Bob Hunter @ strictly personal ® WE STARTED olf thinking everything was superbly under control. tt was the first weekend we'd gone out together without the kids in a Jong, long time, The occasion was the 50th birthday party of one of our very best friends, Deep Cove’s Lyle (‘Doc Midnight’’) Thurston. The party was to be held at an island just off Tofino. More than a hundred people were ex- pected. We would see old friends we hadn’t seen in years. It would be a mass reunion. As many as half a dozen former sets of husbands and wives, now with new mates, would be there to add spice an. show how mature we all were. It seemed fabulously orga- nized. We had been sent in- structions in the mail telling us what to bring, where to meet the boat, etc. We set out Friday afternoon, beating the rush at Horseshoe Bay. The weather was perfect and the forecast was that it would stay that way. We spent the night in Parksville. And woke up in the morning to a downpour, Oh oh. | had somewhat overconfidently not brought a change of clothes. I was wearing shorts and sandals. Swect Buns was similarly at- tired. The rain didn't let up for a minute as we crossed Van- couver Island. We passed three cars that had slid off the road. In Tofino, we stopped at the dry goods store to buy shoes, socks and rainjackets. We waited at the dock in continuing downpour for three hours, watching the whitecaps emerging out of the greyness, our car being shaken by the keening wind. What dim light OLE OVERGAARD Realtor PERSONAL ATTENTION TO PROPERTY SALES AND PURCHASES If vou are contemplating a move, let me evaluate your present real estate holding. A conducted tour with me will save you time and money. OFFICE 922-6188 AES. 985-6695 25 year memoer of the Vancuuvet Reat Estate Board OVERGAARD ASSOC. REALTY tro. 1347 MARINE DOR., WEST VAN, V7T 186 there was began to ebb from the ragged, stormeenashed shy. Some old acquaintance from Calgary showed up. Not as laid-back about fate as us West Coasters, they charged enerpedcally around town until they tracked down a guy with a Zodiac who was crazy enough to head out inte the maw of the pale. Fo tell the truth, there is nothing [love more than Zodi- ac-riding in) bad weather. In good weather, you just skim along the surface like a piant bee on speed. B-o-r-i-n-g. But push out into the heav- ing, sloshing turmoil of break- ing waves so huge you can see the glow of the departing sun backlighting the sheer wall of curling water, and = you are guaranteed a rush, As we approached the island where the party was happenine, the water was so sloppy, as fishermen would say, that even in a Zodiac we couldn't po around into the open. We'd have to land on the leeward side and hike for many miles through the forest. In its dying hours, the day was finally lightening up. The sun-god blinked awake. As luck — ho-ho — would have it, just as we were to undertake this trek, an actual landing craft hovered into view, crawling slowly across the swells. The wind had slackened. Our official ride could now make it through, We transferred boats and headed out where even a Zodiac dared not venture. Much adre- naline Jater, we whooshed be- tween the last great barnacled fangs of death-rock smoothly onto a beach. dhe patty was epic, We contd tell that right away. What tip ped us was the sight, first chagp, of another very old and dear friend whom we hiadn't seen for ages falling: Out of a house and down a chff onto the beach, splat Viking Gil and fo had been On a strict propram oof abstinence, caxercise, diet and sal-discipline tor nearly ehree months, We had decided we would pig out this ong Gime, out of respect for Thurston) break ing the mid-century baerier. Somewhere in the night, we were led off, carrying our cam- ping gear, into the utter blackness of the forest, to carry on partying at another house on the other side of the iskind. We fell down in deep ponds of black ooze and lost one of the sleeping bags, plus the air mat- tresses. After much merry-making, we woke up in the morning on a floor surrounded by a mob of incredibly hungover people, like wounded sea lions in a rookery, looking out on the awesome beauty of the restiess Pacific surf, trying to remember... As we slogged back through the forest, sloshing through those same oozing pits of liquid gumbo to catch a return ride to Tofino, Sweet Angel grumbled and muttered and growled all the way. You should have heard her, Lyle! But she agreed later, when we were safely home, that it had been the best party ever. If you don’t suffer, you forget. Some- day we'll show you our stigmata. Happy 50th, Dac. Pass the aspirins, will you? COCKING A SNOOK “Alex Tiley Purtar's Lake, NS. 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