Adventures in Solitude: What Not to Wear to a Nude Potluck and Other Stories from Desolation Sound
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From Captain George Vancouver to Muriel "Curve of Time" Blanchet to Jim "Spilsbury's Coast" Spilsbury, visitors to Desolation Sound have left behind a trail of books endowing the area with a romantic aura that helps to make it British Columbia's most popular marine park. In this hilarious and captivating book, CBC personality Grant Lawrence adds a whole new chapter to the saga of this storied piece of BC coastline.
Young Grant's father bought a piece of land next to the park in the 1970s, just in time to encounter the gun-toting cougar lady, left-over hippies, outlaw bikers and an assortment of other characters. In those years Desolation Sound was a place where going to the neighbours' potluck meant being met with hugs from portly naked hippies and where Russell the Hermit's school of life (boating, fishing, and rock 'n' roll) was Grant's personal Enlightenment--an influence that would take him away from the coast to a life of music and journalism and eventually back again.
With rock band buddies and a few cases of beer in tow, an older, cooler Grant returns to regale us with tales of "going bush," the tempting dilemma of finding an unguarded grow-op, and his awkward struggle to convince a couple of visiting kayakers that he's a legit CBC radio host while sporting a wild beard and body wounds and gesticulating with a machete. With plenty of laugh-out-loud humour and inspired reverence, Adventures in Solitude delights us with the unique history of a place and the growth of a young man amidst the magic of Desolation Sound.
bulging eyes scanning the rocks and ocean for dead things. I could feel myself starting to come around on Desolation Sound. My sister, however, was not. Innocently, Heather only associated the word “cottage” with “lake,” “comfort,” and “fun.” She had experienced a few in her young life, when our family visited friends in Muskoka (classic Ontario cottage country), the Okanagan Valley (BC’s interior summer land), and for our family reunions in Clear Lake, Manitoba (a 1950s-style resort village). A
the author’s collection, with the following exceptions: table of contents, Ken Kelly; page 25 by Nadine Sander-Green; page 102 from the collection of Andrew Scott; page 196 courtesy Richard Blanchet; page 102 by Chris Kelly. Illustrations by Christy Nyiri. Interior design by Five Seventeen. Printed on 100% post consumer waste recycled stock using soy-based inks. Printed and bound in Canada. Harbour Publishing acknowledges financial support from the Government of Canada through the Canada Book
dropped to my hands and knees and searched until my fingers found them, bent but not broken. My sister was pushed out of harm’s way thanks to a very kind older, fully developed naked girl, who also helped me with my bleeding nose, her perky brown breasts at my direct eye level. While the rest of the kids pulled themselves out of the water below, the kind girl suggested we head back to the main party and find our parents. Both my sister and I readily agreed and followed her round brown bum back to
farmers hate being in the red.” The oyster market never rebounded, and tragically neither did Jeff. He eventually slipped into a dark depression, kept to himself, was in and out of hospital, and when seen by others he exhibited frightening behaviour that was way out of character. He was reported missing on a dreary, wet day in December and was found by the RCMP dog team a day later. He had committed suicide by hanging himself in the woods behind his home, just days before his fifty-second
and dragged it back to the side of the boat. Together Nick and I hauled it up, out of the water and into the bottom of the boat. It was like lifting a soaked toddler. The huge ling slapped and flipped its body from side to side, sending empty beer cans rattling against the inner sides of the boat. Roger and Rory, swearing and muttering with a mixture of fear and delight, scrambled to get out of its way, the boat still rocking from side to side. Nick meanwhile still had the little lingcod on the