Okanagan Valley
Flying from Victoria over the Strait of Georgia back to Vancouver, I decided to land at the Boundary Bay airport instead of the grass strip at Delta where Scott and I had landed before. The main reason was becuase with my broken toe I thought it would be easier to get to and from CZBB with less walking. Boundary Bay is the 4th busiest airport in all of Canada in terms of air traffic! They have multiple flight schools, hundreds of aircraft parked all over the place, and the runways of the old WWII era delta formation are currently under construction for upgrading and expansion! What a contrast to all the old delta triangle airports I've seen across the country where only one of the three runways have been maintained, and often shortened to further reduce upkeep costs. Anyway, the airport was busy enough that it was quite easy for me to hitch hike from there. When I was picked up I asked to just be dropped off at the nearby bus terminal, but Andrew, a student pilot originally from South Korea, saw me limping along and offered to drive me all the way into the city. With rush hour traffic it was over an hour drive but he took me right to Brad's house! I'm recalling now something I said before the onset of this journey a few months ago, "I can't wait to need the help of a stranger". Well there it is, a total stranger going out of his way to help someone in need. I wish those sorts of good deeds were more common in our culture, so often we pass by a stranger in need and don't even think to help.
Brad and I had a beer while we watched the Oilers give away the Stanley Cup, and then we walked to a nice Thai restaurant for some yummy curry and pad Thai.
It took me two full hours in the morning to get from Brad's place back to the Boundary Bay airport. I took two different buses and then had to start walking. I hobbled almost 5km from the bus terminal to the airport, attempting to hitch hike along the way but with no success. After takeoff, it was only another 2 hrs in the air, with slight tail winds and gentle updrafts, before I landed at Penticton in the Okanagan Valley. Penticton is south of Kelowna, situated right between Lake Okanagan and Lake Skaha, with beaches on both lakes and fruit orchards and vineyards on the surrounding hillsides. It looks like a scene straight out of Italy or France. The approach at Penticton was breathtaking, descending over Lake Skaha and touching down just seconds after crossing over the beach which is only a few hundred feet from the end of the runway.
After I parked the plane and got everything packed up, I was told that camping on the grass beside the plan was not aloud. The airport administration people were very official and strict, not like the casual people you find at the smaller town airports. So I was going to have to camp at one of the tourist camp sites by the lake, but that was going to cost $20/night, and I was starting to think "Wait a minute here, I haven't paid for a single night's accommodation on this trip yet, why should I start now?". So I decided that come hell or high water I was going to find a place to pitch my tent for free. Not five minutes later as I was still walking along the airport road, I spotted another Aircoupe! So, I walked over to talk to the person who was standing beside it, watering the grass or something, and then I noticed right in from the Coupe was another older Ercoupe. Incredible! The man didn't own either of them, but he said I'd be welcome to pitch my tent there beside the flying club building. So I did, right between the two Ercoupes.
It was evening time and I was hungry, so I hiked about 4km to the nearest grocery store to buy a loaf of bread, some trail mix, and toothpaste. I already had half a jar of peanut butter left over from the one Scott and I bought in Salmon Arm. On the way out of the shopping mall I noticed some cherry trees in the parking lot so I walked over and and stuffed my face with free, perfectly ripe BC cherries! Walking back to the airport I thought I'd try hitch hiking again to save my aching knee and toe, and was picked up by a guy named Shawn. His old station wagon reeked of pot, but hey, this is BC. He was quite interested in my trip and just as he dropped me off near the airport he said "well, I guess we'll see ya when we see ya". So I settled myself into my tent between the two Ercoupes, and had my fill of peanut butter sandwiches before doing a little journal writing and going to sleep. In the morning I packed everything up, left what I wouldn't need for the day in the airplane, and headed out with my camera and water bottle to find some wineries to tour. The night before Shawn had recommended going to the nearby village of Naramata where there are several estates in the same area. So I started walking down the highway that would take me to Naramata, walking backwards with my thumb out, thinking "so this is hitch hiking, hmmm, doesn't seem that bad" and two minutes later a car pulls over, amazing! At this point hitch hiking was looking really easy. And when I got closer to the car I couldn't believe it, it was Shawn again in his old smelly station wagon, what are the odds?!
Instead of just dropping me off in town where I thought I could take a bus to Naramata, Shawn drove me all over Penticton showing me the sights, downtown, the beach, and then even up to a lookout on a huge hill from where you can see the entire town and both lakes. Eventually he dropped me off at the first of a string of wineries, the Red Rooster. From there I walked up the Naramata Road to the Hillside Estates Winery where I did some wine tasting and pretended to know what I was talking about when asked to compare the 2005 Reisling to the 2004 Chardonnay, or something like that. Eventually I made it right to the Naramata village where there was also lots to see. Art galleries, more wineries, book stores, the Village Grounds cafe, the local farmers market at a park on the beach, so many things to take pictures of.
It took about an hour of hitch hiking out of town before a girl and her mom finally picked me up in their old volvo station wagon. They could only take me as far as downtown Penticton, so it was another 4.5km walk back to the airport. Shortly after changing clothes and setting up my tent again beside the flying club, I walked the 4.5km AGAIN right back into town to check out the Blue Mule, apparently the place to go for night life. It got pretty crowded, mostly scantily clad, fake n' bake 19-21 year old bar stars with their muscle shirt boyfriends. One funny sight was this really old man, must have been at least 75, dancing with a tiny little girl, probably about 20 and definitely a stripper. I met a few people from Saskatchewan but lost interest in the scene before long and finally just took a cab back to the airport.
The next morning I decided to take a dip in Lake Skaha. What woke me up was the sound of foot steps outside the tent. I crawled out to see that the owner of the of the Ercoupes was getting it ready for a flight. So I told him about my trip, talked to him for a while comparing and trading Coupe stories, and then packed up camp while I taxied out for a short local flight before his day of work. There was nobody else at the beach, but it was nice, water wasn't too cold. I thought I'd try once more to hitch hike into town, but by this time I'd already done a lot of hitch hiking that sure resembled regular walking. Other than my good fortune with Andrew in Vancouver, and with Shawn picking me up twice in Penticton, I was finding hitch hiking to be quite a frustrating experience as dozens and dozens of people alone in their vehicles would zoom by without a thought or a care. Meanwhile my knee and my toe were really slowing me down. But I was fortunate once again and was picked up by 3 young fruit picking hippies from Quebec. They were headed into town to look for used bikes so they brought me to the used book store and after a while of looking around we met up again and drove out to the airport. They had found a bike and were going to drive back to Osoyoos where they were working and living on an orchard, but with the bike they didn't have room for all 3 of them in the car. I was planning on flying down to Osoyoos that afternoon anyway, so I offered to take one of them with me in the plane. I had to put most of my luggage in the trunk of their car to keep from going over max gross weight, but I had their friend as collateral so I knew they wouldn't take off with my stuff. I later found out that my new passenger wasn't actually a friend of theirs, he was actually just another hitch hiker that they'd picked up earlier that day! Anyway, they met us in Osoyoos eventually at the beach where all the hippies hang out and I retrieved my belongings.
That night after another cheap grocery store supper, they took me back to my plane where I packed up what I'd need to camp for the night, and by their recommendation I hiked to the infamous "French Hill" where a huge community of young Quebecois backpackers congregate every summer, a place to live while they pick fruit, mostly cherries in the surrounding orchards. Technically they're squatters but the RCMP seams to turn a blind eye to their little colony on the hill in order to keep them out of the town. I found the band of gypsies to be very friendly and welcoming. I pitched my tent on the hill, surrounded by desert shrubs and dozens of other tents, and found a seat by the camp fire. I talked to anyone who spoke English, including a guy from Morocco, played some hacky sack, and then tried to go to sleep while the gypsies partied late into the night, singing and laughing and drinking. I was told in the morning that the next night would be an even wilder and much larger party, celebrating St. Jean de Baptiste Day with everything from tarot card readers, flaming torch jugglers, dozens of musical instruments, all kinds of crazy gypsy merriment, but alas I could not stay. I wanted to get to Rossland to see Yannie and her family. So I hiked back down French Hill to the airport, flew the short distance to the town of Oliver to buy fuel, and then over a couple mountain ridges and along some winding valleys to the airport at Trail, BC. Three days wasn't nearly enough to fully explore the Okanagan, so I'm sure I'll be back again some day...
Flying from Victoria over the Strait of Georgia back to Vancouver, I decided to land at the Boundary Bay airport instead of the grass strip at Delta where Scott and I had landed before. The main reason was becuase with my broken toe I thought it would be easier to get to and from CZBB with less walking. Boundary Bay is the 4th busiest airport in all of Canada in terms of air traffic! They have multiple flight schools, hundreds of aircraft parked all over the place, and the runways of the old WWII era delta formation are currently under construction for upgrading and expansion! What a contrast to all the old delta triangle airports I've seen across the country where only one of the three runways have been maintained, and often shortened to further reduce upkeep costs. Anyway, the airport was busy enough that it was quite easy for me to hitch hike from there. When I was picked up I asked to just be dropped off at the nearby bus terminal, but Andrew, a student pilot originally from South Korea, saw me limping along and offered to drive me all the way into the city. With rush hour traffic it was over an hour drive but he took me right to Brad's house! I'm recalling now something I said before the onset of this journey a few months ago, "I can't wait to need the help of a stranger". Well there it is, a total stranger going out of his way to help someone in need. I wish those sorts of good deeds were more common in our culture, so often we pass by a stranger in need and don't even think to help.
Brad and I had a beer while we watched the Oilers give away the Stanley Cup, and then we walked to a nice Thai restaurant for some yummy curry and pad Thai.
It took me two full hours in the morning to get from Brad's place back to the Boundary Bay airport. I took two different buses and then had to start walking. I hobbled almost 5km from the bus terminal to the airport, attempting to hitch hike along the way but with no success. After takeoff, it was only another 2 hrs in the air, with slight tail winds and gentle updrafts, before I landed at Penticton in the Okanagan Valley. Penticton is south of Kelowna, situated right between Lake Okanagan and Lake Skaha, with beaches on both lakes and fruit orchards and vineyards on the surrounding hillsides. It looks like a scene straight out of Italy or France. The approach at Penticton was breathtaking, descending over Lake Skaha and touching down just seconds after crossing over the beach which is only a few hundred feet from the end of the runway.
After I parked the plane and got everything packed up, I was told that camping on the grass beside the plan was not aloud. The airport administration people were very official and strict, not like the casual people you find at the smaller town airports. So I was going to have to camp at one of the tourist camp sites by the lake, but that was going to cost $20/night, and I was starting to think "Wait a minute here, I haven't paid for a single night's accommodation on this trip yet, why should I start now?". So I decided that come hell or high water I was going to find a place to pitch my tent for free. Not five minutes later as I was still walking along the airport road, I spotted another Aircoupe! So, I walked over to talk to the person who was standing beside it, watering the grass or something, and then I noticed right in from the Coupe was another older Ercoupe. Incredible! The man didn't own either of them, but he said I'd be welcome to pitch my tent there beside the flying club building. So I did, right between the two Ercoupes.
It was evening time and I was hungry, so I hiked about 4km to the nearest grocery store to buy a loaf of bread, some trail mix, and toothpaste. I already had half a jar of peanut butter left over from the one Scott and I bought in Salmon Arm. On the way out of the shopping mall I noticed some cherry trees in the parking lot so I walked over and and stuffed my face with free, perfectly ripe BC cherries! Walking back to the airport I thought I'd try hitch hiking again to save my aching knee and toe, and was picked up by a guy named Shawn. His old station wagon reeked of pot, but hey, this is BC. He was quite interested in my trip and just as he dropped me off near the airport he said "well, I guess we'll see ya when we see ya". So I settled myself into my tent between the two Ercoupes, and had my fill of peanut butter sandwiches before doing a little journal writing and going to sleep. In the morning I packed everything up, left what I wouldn't need for the day in the airplane, and headed out with my camera and water bottle to find some wineries to tour. The night before Shawn had recommended going to the nearby village of Naramata where there are several estates in the same area. So I started walking down the highway that would take me to Naramata, walking backwards with my thumb out, thinking "so this is hitch hiking, hmmm, doesn't seem that bad" and two minutes later a car pulls over, amazing! At this point hitch hiking was looking really easy. And when I got closer to the car I couldn't believe it, it was Shawn again in his old smelly station wagon, what are the odds?!
Instead of just dropping me off in town where I thought I could take a bus to Naramata, Shawn drove me all over Penticton showing me the sights, downtown, the beach, and then even up to a lookout on a huge hill from where you can see the entire town and both lakes. Eventually he dropped me off at the first of a string of wineries, the Red Rooster. From there I walked up the Naramata Road to the Hillside Estates Winery where I did some wine tasting and pretended to know what I was talking about when asked to compare the 2005 Reisling to the 2004 Chardonnay, or something like that. Eventually I made it right to the Naramata village where there was also lots to see. Art galleries, more wineries, book stores, the Village Grounds cafe, the local farmers market at a park on the beach, so many things to take pictures of.
It took about an hour of hitch hiking out of town before a girl and her mom finally picked me up in their old volvo station wagon. They could only take me as far as downtown Penticton, so it was another 4.5km walk back to the airport. Shortly after changing clothes and setting up my tent again beside the flying club, I walked the 4.5km AGAIN right back into town to check out the Blue Mule, apparently the place to go for night life. It got pretty crowded, mostly scantily clad, fake n' bake 19-21 year old bar stars with their muscle shirt boyfriends. One funny sight was this really old man, must have been at least 75, dancing with a tiny little girl, probably about 20 and definitely a stripper. I met a few people from Saskatchewan but lost interest in the scene before long and finally just took a cab back to the airport.
The next morning I decided to take a dip in Lake Skaha. What woke me up was the sound of foot steps outside the tent. I crawled out to see that the owner of the of the Ercoupes was getting it ready for a flight. So I told him about my trip, talked to him for a while comparing and trading Coupe stories, and then packed up camp while I taxied out for a short local flight before his day of work. There was nobody else at the beach, but it was nice, water wasn't too cold. I thought I'd try once more to hitch hike into town, but by this time I'd already done a lot of hitch hiking that sure resembled regular walking. Other than my good fortune with Andrew in Vancouver, and with Shawn picking me up twice in Penticton, I was finding hitch hiking to be quite a frustrating experience as dozens and dozens of people alone in their vehicles would zoom by without a thought or a care. Meanwhile my knee and my toe were really slowing me down. But I was fortunate once again and was picked up by 3 young fruit picking hippies from Quebec. They were headed into town to look for used bikes so they brought me to the used book store and after a while of looking around we met up again and drove out to the airport. They had found a bike and were going to drive back to Osoyoos where they were working and living on an orchard, but with the bike they didn't have room for all 3 of them in the car. I was planning on flying down to Osoyoos that afternoon anyway, so I offered to take one of them with me in the plane. I had to put most of my luggage in the trunk of their car to keep from going over max gross weight, but I had their friend as collateral so I knew they wouldn't take off with my stuff. I later found out that my new passenger wasn't actually a friend of theirs, he was actually just another hitch hiker that they'd picked up earlier that day! Anyway, they met us in Osoyoos eventually at the beach where all the hippies hang out and I retrieved my belongings.
That night after another cheap grocery store supper, they took me back to my plane where I packed up what I'd need to camp for the night, and by their recommendation I hiked to the infamous "French Hill" where a huge community of young Quebecois backpackers congregate every summer, a place to live while they pick fruit, mostly cherries in the surrounding orchards. Technically they're squatters but the RCMP seams to turn a blind eye to their little colony on the hill in order to keep them out of the town. I found the band of gypsies to be very friendly and welcoming. I pitched my tent on the hill, surrounded by desert shrubs and dozens of other tents, and found a seat by the camp fire. I talked to anyone who spoke English, including a guy from Morocco, played some hacky sack, and then tried to go to sleep while the gypsies partied late into the night, singing and laughing and drinking. I was told in the morning that the next night would be an even wilder and much larger party, celebrating St. Jean de Baptiste Day with everything from tarot card readers, flaming torch jugglers, dozens of musical instruments, all kinds of crazy gypsy merriment, but alas I could not stay. I wanted to get to Rossland to see Yannie and her family. So I hiked back down French Hill to the airport, flew the short distance to the town of Oliver to buy fuel, and then over a couple mountain ridges and along some winding valleys to the airport at Trail, BC. Three days wasn't nearly enough to fully explore the Okanagan, so I'm sure I'll be back again some day...
posted by Ben at
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