From the wonderful online news source Salish Current in Bellingham, WA comes this heartening story by Nancy DeVaux. I promise you’ll find inspiration here.
Read, then tell me what you think!
No, this post isn’t about Zohran Mamdani. (Well, maybe a little.) I’ll skip straight to the moral of the story: if your adult offspring sends you a link, read ALL of it before reacting.
That said, sometimes reactions can lead somewhere positive. Let me explain that statement…and also, for those of you who don’t follow my blog, why I’m sending this to you.
Son Two, Casey, has only dipped his toes into filmmaking. But (as he acknowledges) he’s dipped his toes into many things, so when he told us he was filming a promo for his feature, my thought was, Way to be creative–go get ’em, kid.
Then came the fundraising link for Anyone But Linda. I immediately clicked on the video–Hey, that’s my boy! And then came…
Wait. You’re raising money for a movie, now? When it feels like all hands on deck to keep folks in Minneapolis fed and housed, under the ICE/CBP siege?
Wait. If folks donate to you, what are they not going to donate to?
Wait. You’re a healthy millennial with more resources than many. You’re putting your time and energy into a movie? What about more hands-on action, like when you were helping detainees released from the ICE facility in Tacoma?
Such were my maternal reactions. Followed by…
I should be telling my son how proud I am. I should be contributing to his project. How can I tell him about my misgivings without damaging our relationship?
So I wrote Son Two a long letter, giving each of my concerns its own thoughtful, loving (I hoped) paragraph. I put it in an email, then reread it several times before hitting Send. My stomach hurt.
Turns out I could’ve saved myself the gut-wrench. Not only did Casey write back with an equally long and heartfelt letter, not only did he suggest we talk that night, but when we did…
…he pointed out that the fundraising link contained the answers to ALL my concerns. In my haste to watch (and react to) the video, I had missed everything underneath. Like the mission statement:
“Given the state of the world, it’s no wonder so many have given up on politics. Hope is in short supply. This film is meant to reignite the flame of belief, not in unfair systems, but in the unique power of individuals to stand up to them – with a tickle, a wink, and a gentle nudging of the heart.” [emphasis mine]
And the synopsis:
“Linda Santori has been in office FOREVER and, like the rest of the establishment, she is totally out of touch with working class people. Or so says Suresh Palavairayan, the young progressive running to challenge her. The campaign is a long-shot…but Cole has a plan.
Adrift in his mid-20s, in an unfulfilling job and a relationship that’s lost its spark, Cole is searching for purpose. His social media addiction keeps him overly informed – and borderline depressed. Suresh’s firebrand rhetoric is just the push he has been needing, that sends him stumbling into a zany plan of action:
To open the path for new leadership, he will jump-scare the aging Congresswoman so badly that she decides to retire.
It barely makes sense and is hardly likely to succeed, but in this impulsive scheme Cole finds what he has been needing to believe in himself, in democracy, and the power that we each have to make a difference.” [emphasis mine]
This was exactly the passionate purpose I was wondering about. It’s no secret that Gen Z is likely to be the difference-maker in the elections of 2026 and 2028. Someone has to reach out to those dispirited Americans. Do I have any ideas how to? No…but Son Two does.
The rest of the fundraising site (which I’d missed) even answered my main question (above).
“Politics today are depressing. Social media bombards us with endless catastrophe and crisis; each one complex, urgent, and overwhelming. We feel powerless as individuals and our elected representatives can’t, or won’t, take meaningful action.
Yet across the country there are dozens of young progressive candidates challenging establishment politicians with grassroots campaigns. Up against corporate money, the key to their success has been thousands of individuals volunteering to canvass and phone-bank. These candidates are our hope for change and these volunteers are proof that each one of us can play a role in making that hope a reality.
We desperately need a story of politics that is uplifting. And relatable. And funny enough to make you remember it’s not all doom and gloom out there. Anybody But Linda is the political story that nudges you to find your purpose, even if it seems impractical.
With a small cast and few shooting locations, this feature film is designed to be produced like a short. This allows for a speedy timeline (shooting end of March) so that the film’s release will coincide with political primaries in June ahead of the midyear elections. The vision is to host community screenings that allow folks to come together in dialogue about the social and political themes of the film, and galvanize civic participation. It also means getting scrappy with the budgeting, so every dollar counts!
The production itself is an homage to grassroots organizing, with many people volunteering their valuable time and skills in support of a greater mission. Funds raised allow us to compensate our actors, crew, and host locations.” [emphasis mine]
The more I ponder the questions raised by the promo of Anyone But Linda, the more I find myself thinking, Maybe this story does have to do with Zohran Mamdani. Finding power, hope, purpose…in politics? Yes to that. This little movie, when made, won’t detract from anyone giving of themselves to help the next Mamdani, or the citizens of Minneapolis. This little movie can remind folks why they want to do just that.
Now that you know all this, please–enjoy the promo! And consider helping the project. (I did. Then I gave again to a church in Minneapolis and a mutual aid there. Hope and purpose, both.)
Do you recognize this man?
If we were back in my childhood of the 1960s-70s, all watching the same 3 or 4 channels, everyone would know this preacher. Everyone would have seen him preaching, heard him cajoling or roaring from the pulpit. Though his accent is eastern Carolina, not Atlanta, we would have known him the way we knew that other Rev. Dr., the one whose birthday is now a federal holiday.
But we’re all in our separate media silos now; separate channels, separate apps. Rev. Barber is back on the east coast (managing to pastor a congregation at Yale even while doing all this political work), and here on the west, I RARELY meet anyone who’s heard of him.
I’m trying to change that.
One of my very earliest memories is of the civil rights movement in my hometown of Durham, NC: holding hands and swaying in a demonstration, singing “We Shall Overcome.” I learned later that Duke students and faculty–including my dad–came out in support of Duke’s all-Black custodians, probably 1965.
Without going into detail, suffice to say the civil rights movement was a big part of my family. My dad’s arrest at a sit-in led to a Supreme Court case, Klopfer v. N.C., which set the precedent that the right to speedy trial applies to the states. 50 years later, my dad was thrilled to get arrested again…following Reverend Barber. (You can read about that here.)
Out here in the Pacific Northwest, all that history feels remote. Or it did until Trump, the Supreme Court and Project 2025 started attacking voting rights again. Now here we are, right back in the mid-60s, fighting to maintain what we thought we’d won.
The only difference? “We” is more than Black Americans now. “We” is we.
If you find yourself thinking, “We sure could use Dr. King now,” then
a) you’re not alone, and
b) meet Rev. Barber.
This February, Rev. Barber’s group, Repairers of the Breach, will be leading a march modeled on the famous Selma to Montgomery March of 1965. They’ll start in Wilson, NC on Feb. 11 and walk almost 50 miles (15 miles/day), finishing in Raleigh on Valentines Day. How I wish I could be there! I can’t…but I plan to support the march financially. And I plan to tell everyone I can about it.
Starting here. Because, who knows? Maybe you can be there. Maybe you can be part of that history.
Can you? And if not…can you send this post to someone who might be able to join, or support the marchers?
And if you do that, will you tell me about it?
PS: For more information, or to contact Rev. Barber & the Repairers of the Breach directly, click here.
“I’ve tuned out,” your adult son, your cousin, your sister-in-law tells you. “Politics is too f**cked up for me bother. And there’s nothing I can do anyway.”
I hope the first thing you do is to support your loved one for prioritizing self-care. But then I have a question for you to ask them.
What does the word “harvest” mean to you?
That question popped into my mind last night while reading Joyce Vance’s Civil Discourse on Substack. She was asking legal expert Marc Elias (a lawyer who’s argued before the Supreme Court five times and counting) about what voters should be concerned about in 2026. Marc’s answer jolted me:
“According to Democracy Docket’s case tracker, there are about 170 active voting and election cases nationwide. Unfortunately, the majority of those cases (roughly 55%) are anti-voting cases that seek to make it harder to vote…”
Wait–who are these Bad Guys trying to keep Americans from voting? Will the feds crack down on them?
Nope. The Feds ARE the Bad Guys now. Says Marc:
“…One of the most important new developments this year is the Trump DOJ’s emergence as one of the most prolific sources of anti-voting litigation. In less than a year, the Department of Justice has filed 25 anti-voting lawsuits. While pro-democracy attorneys often found ourselves allied with the DOJ in the past, we are now forced to oppose them to prevent the federal government from trampling on voting rights.”
“Okay, Gretchen,” you say, “What does this have to do with harvesting?”
Glad you asked. Because here’s the part that made me realize, even someone’s apolitical son, cousin or sister-in-law might want to know this.
When Joyce asked Marc how our federal government is going about the nitty-gritty of voter suppression, here’s what he told her:
“Trump’s Department of Justice is seeking a comprehensive database of sensitive personal information on virtually every person who might vote in 2026 and 2028. This includes names, addresses, Social Security numbers and dates of birth. In some states, it includes a voter’s race. In most places, it includes party registration, which elections a person has voted in, the method of voting they used, and whether they have moved.“
In other words: they’re harvesting our data. ALL of it. Not this kind of harvest…
…but this:
Marc Elias goes on:
“Never before has the federal government sought all this information from nearly every state. Never before has the DOJ sued more than 20 states (most of which lean Democratic) to obtain it...We are seeing the weaponization of federal power against American voters, and I think this voter data collection effort by Trump’s DOJ could become the major story of the 2026 election cycle.”
So, ask your disaffected son, your cousin, your sister-in-law: “Is that what ‘harvest’ means to you? Are you comfortable with your own government harvesting your voting data in order to keep themselves in power?”
If their answer is No…maybe suggest they look into Civil Discourse, or any other site that relies on lawyers, teachers and historians.
If YOU want to know more, join Substack and tune in to Joyce’s upcoming conversation with Marc, January 15th @ noon EST, where they will dive further into the questions of what’s going on with the data harvest, and what we can do about it.
They may not appreciate the question. But politics is choosing them, regardless of whether they choose politics. And as Leonard Cohen wrote, “There is a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.“
And as Joyce Vance says, “We’re in this together.” Let’s try to keep the conversation going.
Fifteen years ago, I interviewed my LA-based cousin, Susi Kaminski Klein, about her experiences as a child survivor of the Holocaust. Over the course of four days, hanging out here on Lopez Island and visiting beautiful Victoria, BC, I recorded Susi narrating her story.
Nine years ago, I blogged about Susi’s story as depicted in Jewish Journal of 2016. You can read that here.
Five years ago, with some urging, and a TON of formatting, research and illustration help from my cousin Helen (Susi’s daughter), we turned those notes into a book.
But the lede I’m burying here is this: COUSIN HELEN WAS WAYYYY AHEAD OF ME! In 2011, four years earlier, she had already published the story of her father, Fred Klein. Here it is:
Something you have to understand: back then, self-publishing was HARD WORK. I’ll get to that part in a moment.
What I wanted to know was how Helen’s experience interviewing her father compared to mine, interviewing her mother, and…well, I’ll let Helen tell it. Cuz?
“This will be a short and possibly unexpected answer. I never interviewed my father to capture his story. My father started writing his book, believe it or not in 1997! He went through a number of iterations. During the process he found several people who were willing to edit his work and give him ideas on organization, grammar, etc. I was not involved in that process at all.”
Well, that tracks. Susi had separated and Fred by the time we met, so I never got to meet Fred. From what I’ve learned, I think he must have been an impressive man. Maybe daunting to interview? Not really, Helen said, but…
“I think I would have found it extremely challenging to interview my father. Not because he would not be willing but it is such a vast subject, I would really have had to figure out where to begin, how to organize and structure the questions etc. so honestly I am grateful my father wrote his story on his own and got some guidance from others on organization and structure.”
Keep in mind, my cousin’s working full-time during this entire period. When I interviewed Susi, I had just left my teaching job, so I had the time I needed to organize her story after capturing it on tape.
Also…as Fred Klein’s book cover intimates: he survived Auschwitz. While Susi’s story was horrific and traumatic, including her father being sent to the concentration camp Theresienstadt…it did not involve Auschwitz.
Full disclosure, I’m only partway through No Name, No Number, which is written as a mix of personal account and history lesson. History, I think, is more and more necessary these days when precious little Holocaust history is taught. But personal stories are the most poignant.
Here’s an excerpt from Ch. 7, where, in 1941, still living “freely” in Prague, teenage Fred is forced to labor on a collective farm. I have bolded sentences that especially capture the personal reality of the horror.
“For me, the worst part about the camp was the strenuous physical effort required. I was in extremely bad shape, not accustomed to the job, never having learned to push myself. Sometimes the grueling twelve-hour workday seemed like hell to me. I thought I would never last through them. I had to shovel some three hundred times earth up to a little metal wagon. Sometimes I had to carry very long tree-trunks with a fellow forced laborer. Most of my fellow inmates were in better shape than me and enjoyed teasing me. They had me carry the thick end of the tree-trunks which was so heavy that I almost collapsed, whereas the other fellow had it easy. Had I been in better shape, the work would have been exhausting, but tolerable.”
Here’s another excerpt, from Ch. 11, where in 1944, 22 year-old Fred is unloaded at the dreaded camp. Notice the detail in the middle of the passage:
“I jumped out of the cattle car. Barracks, barracks, barbed wire, gleaming lights. SS men with police dogs, wielding whips. Pajama-clad figures – kapos – and other prisoners, something I had never seen before. This place was cold, frightening, there was nothing soft to humanize it. I stared briefly at the hellish scene, and then I took off my glasses. Shouting and shoving, the kapos and prisoners herded us into rows five men deep and made us stand still. The dogs of the SS were poised to attack us. Somehow the pajama-clad prisoners got us moving forward in a single file.”
“I took off my glasses.” To me that act says, I will not look at this. I will get through it.
So, Helen– your dad wrote out his own book. Why was it not published right away?
“What I can tell you is that my father tried very, very hard to get his book published. He wrote lots of letters to a variety of publishers, but none of them seemed interested. I don’t even know if he ever got answers.”
It’s painful to reflect on this answer. There are so many Holocaust stories. The simple truth– that the sheer quantity of such traumatic stories affects their “marketability”–hurts my stomach.
Helen finishes:
“He finally gave up looking for a publisher, and sadly resorted to literally going to Kinkos, making copies of his book, getting the books comb-bound, and then trying to distribute his book that way.”
Ouch. But then here comes my cousin, to ease her father’s pathway:
“Originally, I published my father’s book in 2007 using Blurb.com. That process was long and tedious, but I pushed through it as I really, really wanted to get it done while my father was alive. Little did I know back in 2007, when I completed the publishing on Blurb, that my father would live to 100, something I am ever so grateful for!”
Which brings us back to this moment. Blurb.com no longer exists. Fred Klein passed away in 2022 (at the age of 100, as Helen said). But thanks to his daughter, Fred’s story lives on…easily available on Kindle! Click here to download and read No Name, No Number, for free.
I would like to thank my cousin Helen for her perseverance (not to mention all the photos!)…and my cousin Susi for hers. They are both role models for me.
And, in this season of deepest darkness, please say an extra prayer for the Fred Kleins of the world. May their stories find resonance.
May their stories become, some day…rare.
Dear Ford CEO Jim Farley,
My name is Ol’ Blue. I’m a 2003 Ford Explorer.
I’ve asked one of my humans to write this letter for me, as writing is a challenge–me being an SUV and all. After what happened in the Oval Office on December 4, my humans wanted me to tell you they’ll “never buy another Ford!” But I just wanted to ask you, CEO Jim Farley…
How are you OK with your President standing right in front of you to say this about some of his fellow humans ? Some of whom might even work for you?
“The Somalians should be out of here. They have destroyed our country.”
Or this:
“Most of those people” — meaning the Somali immigrants — “have destroyed Minnesota” and made it a “hellhole.”
Or this, about a woman who moved all the way to America from across the sea, got so much education and respect that she was elected by other Americans to represent them in their Congress:
Congresswoman Ilhan Omar “shouldn’t be allowed to be a congresswoman…and she should be thrown the hell out of our country.”
Omar “should not be — and her friends shouldn’t be allowed — frankly, they shouldn’t even be allowed to be congresspeople, okay? They shouldn’t even be allowed to be congresspeople because they don’t represent the interests of our country.”
You were right there, CEO Jim Farley of Ford Motor Company, MY company. My humans saw your picture. You are #14–not real visible in this shot, but don’t worry: it’s you. You were all nodding and laughing as the President said horrible, dangerous things about his fellow American humans. Things that could get them attacked–maybe even run into by SUVs like me. You should know that, Mr. Jim Farley.
You should have spoken up, Mr. Jim Farley. Said SOMETHING. You’re not an elected official. You’re a guy who makes cars. But you you just laughed and nodded away.
So you agree with the President, Mr. Jim Farley, CEO of Ford? You think Somali immigrants are “garbage”?
Do you have the guts to admit that to all the people who drive Fords like me?
Or do you just hope Ford drivers like my humans don’t notice?
[Note from Ol’ Blue’s human, Gretchen: Please share this photo as widely as possible. And if you have any connection to any of the other humans shown here cheerfully standing by for the President’s evil, racist rant–if they are your representative!–PLEASE call them on it. Literally.]
[As Joyce Vance says, “We’re all in this together.”]
(Though it is a really good T-shirt slogan.)
This was my birthday present to myself, fresh from my Virginia-canvassing-and-family trip, and amped up–only a week later–by democracy’s powerful showing in the November 4 elections.
Notice I didn’t say Democrats (though they did well, and I’m glad). Nine months in to this presidency, people on all sides of politics–including no politics at all!–are starting to coalesce around the basic idea that things should work. And democracy, as Churchill famously said in 1947, is “the worst form of Government…except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.…” [ellipses added for emphasis]
In other words, for things to work (fairness, food, airplanes–that sorta thing), we need democracy. And when you look at election results more focused on immediate outcome than on party, here are some promising signs:
See what I mean? I have a lot of company in thinking, the IDEA of democracy is having a moment right now. And for democracy to work, we need all hands on deck.
“Wait a minute,” I can hear you saying. “I loathe phone-banking, and I’m donating all I can to things like food banks and my church. And now you want me to do take on ‘democracy’ too? I am SO not that person.”
Au contraire. I maintain that if you are looking out for vulnerable people; if you are protecting green spaces or animals; if you are reading to kids, or making art to share, or donating to organizations that multiply those values, you ARE a democracy standard-bearer.
I mean–don’t forget (or underestimate!) voting! Do all you can to keep your loved ones from feeling that voting’s not worth it. Point them to this book if they need a little inspiration…
On my walk today I stopped to make a roadside bouquet. November in Washington State = pretty limited wildflowers. But the low-rent, multicolor assemblage I collected reminded me, there’s so many ways to be a flower!
You can be bright, demure, prickly, robust, delicate, complex or simple–and you can still call it democracy. Just do SOMETHING, keep doing it, and keep talking about it.
As Joyce Vance says, we’re in this together. And as Gretchen Wing says, “For things to work, we need democracy.”
What are some of your ways of participating? Anything new, anything especially challenging or rewarding, or both? Please share as many as you feel like.
Not that Joyce. Nothing against Dubliners or Ulysses; I just don’t think they’ll help get you through another week of our current presidency. I mean Joyce Vance, author of this book that was waiting for me, hot off its October 21st release, when I got home from my canvassing trip this week:
To judge a book by its cover, this one looks boring. To me, though, it looks like mental health. I thought I’d take a minute to explain why.
I’ve written in some detail about Common Power, the Seattle-based organization I’ve been teaming up with since 2019 to phone-bank and canvass in “red” or “purple” states.
In 2022 and 2024, I canvassed in my home State of North Carolina, where my folks still live. This year Virginia has some important elections, so I went there (visits to sister & niece a bonus).
Between doors (we knocked on about 2,000 during the days I participated in Fredericksburg, then Richmond), I split my awe between the lovely big deciduous trees of the east…
…and creative Halloween decorations.
But the best part of CP work, to me, isn’t actually the conversations on voters’ doorsteps (though those can be quite moving). It’s the TEAMWORK, the FELLOWSHIP.
Which brings me back to Joyce’s book, whose opening line is, “Could I have picked a worse time to write a book about saving democracy?”
My answer is: no, this is EXACTLY the right time. Because now more than ever, we need to know we “have friends everywhere” (as they say on Andor), and we need to get our hands on some how-to.
However, if podcasts are what your life has room for, Joyce is all over that landscape. I first discovered her via Substack, where her Civil Discourse unpacks the week’s latest legal WTF?!! as only a former U.S. Attorney (and current law professor) can. Each post ends with, “We’re all in this together.”
Or you might just as easily find her on the brilliant panel-pod, Sisters in Law…
…or untangling legal threads with her former U.S. Attorney boss Preet Bharara. I recommend ALL these pods as a way to feel a little more on top of things…a little more prepared for what’s coming, because–
“Hold UP, Gretchen,” I hear you say. “What makes you think I want MORE civics in my life? Don’t you understand what the news is DOING to me??“
Oh, I do. It was doing the same to me, before I found my people in Common Power, and now–with the magic of podcasts–people like Joyce Vance.
[Shoutout to another GREAT, whom you might already have discovered: historian Heather Cox Richardson.]
While I’m only halfway through Vance’s book, I’m happy to report that the final chapter–titled We Are the Cavalry–is chock-full of options for resistance, participation, finding community, pointing yourself towards hope…or, as one heading puts it, “Understand That Protecting Democracy Comes in a Lot of Flavors.” (146)
In this moment when the bad guys want us to despair and give up, Vance offers this uplifting reminder:
“Although we may be on our own, we are not all alone. We truly are in this together. We have one another, a community of like-minded people across the country who care about democracy. That may seem to be a slender thread, but it’s how we, like others who have faced similar challenges in the past, are going to get through this.
So, gather your resources and take courage.” (138)
Joyce’s chickens also make appearances on her Substack, so I’ll close with this:
Do yourself a favor: Read Joyce. [Support her by clicking here to buy her book!] You will feel empowered–because, as she says, we’re all in this together.
No, The Mate and I were not touring a college campus in a fit of nostalgia for our parenting days. We had someone to visit.
No, Oliver–Ollie to his friends, which we now are!–did not invite us to Vancouver. But Ollie’s “dad”, a former student of The Mate’s, now practically family–just took an important job @ UBC. Apart from all the other good reasons to, um, get away to Canada just now…we couldn’t WAIT to come visit and see firsthand the new Canadian life of our friends.
But of course we HAD to wait. Bust in on a newly-hired student dean in the first week of his new job? Eh…we’ll go visit Bella Coola and Vancouver Island and come back, OK?
So we did that (see 2 previous posts). Now: UBC.
Thanks to their University connections (and their small apartment), our friends housed us in UBC’s own on-campus hotel.
In case you don’t know–as I did not–UBC is ENORMOUS. 60,000 undergrads, 30,000 grads. A beautiful tapestry of (mostly youthful) humanity to walk through every morning. We only had two days, but I made the most of it, re-visiting two sites I’d spent time in, lo, nearly 30 years ago, when I took our small kids up to Vancouver for a visit.
I well remembered their famous Anthropology Museum…
Back then, since my kids’ museum stamina lasted barely an hour (and frankly, that’s about all I can usually manage before sloowwwwing dowwwwwnnn), we went outside to explore. Found a mysterious staircase disappearing down the side of a forested bluff.
“Ooh, where does this lead?” It led to a nude beach–right on the edge of campus! I was so impressed by that, I had to see if the place was still there.
Of course, being brand-new British Columbians, our friends were as eager to explore Vancouver’s environs as we were. So we planned a half-day trip up the road to the town of Squamish, which is halfway between the city and the Whistler ski area. But that description doesn’t do the place justice.
We didn’t do much there–just ate lunch, took a walk to the base of the inlet…
…remembering to turn around occasionally to appreciate the town’s background:
…and noticing inviting little quirks, like this sign:
Don’t know if this will be the death of that cute little town or just its next iteration, but I do have to note the presence of an ENORMOUS development of apartments (or condos?) just getting going, behind this pretty mural…
Back in Vancouver, we spent one last evening with our friends, feeling SUCH gratitude for being able to sip from their overflowing, British Columbian cup.
Yeah, Ollie, you kind of are. But I feel like I should close this final B.C. post with something a little more…conclusive-feeling, eh?
So that’s it for BC, this time around! The Mate & I are applying for Nexus, though, so we can travel back & forth more often to see Ollie our friends.
Next up: join me for (click here) another stint of purple-state canvassing with Common Power!
You’re halfway up Vancouver Island. You only have a few days before heading back to the mainland–not enough time to get out to the Wild West Coast, nor down to Victoria. Where do you go?
This is Englishman Falls Provincial Park, just a hop & skip off the main highway between Campbell River and Nanaimo. And yes, that disappearing waterfall is even more insane in real life. Here’s what it looks like face-on:
…and from the top, just above the drop:
That little park was one of several blips on the map of east-central Vancouver Island that, in classic Canadian fashion, fail to call attention to themselves…until you are standing there with your jaw a-drop.
Campbell River–the actual river for which the town is named–is dammed, but not only does it offer the salmon a big side-channel to bypass the dam, it provides guardians for those fish on their passage:
Further inland, Strathcona Provincial Park certainly shows up on the map, but this little waterfall? We only found it when directed there by a volunteer docent we happened to meet.
We’d intended to camp in Strathcona, but the weather went sideways. No problem backpacking in the rain, but wet car camping? That just feels stupid. So we got in a short hike…
…and rode our bikes along the 14-mile long (and unfortunately-named) Buttle Lake…
…before heading back to Campbell River, where we’d scored one of those cheap hotel deals at a NOT-cheap hotel, Painter’s Lodge.
On that dock we found this map–WONDERFULLY helpful for orienting ourselves in BC’s bewildering array of islands:
Not our usual type of stay, but we took full advantage. Especially because the part we stayed in seemed to be a mashup of our last name & our favorite BC island:
Luckily for us, they let us cook our cheeseburgers out in the patio area!
Our last day, after those amazing Englishman Falls, we found a very cool bike path–along the highway, yes, but screened by bushes & trees, with plenty of curves and hills giving it a very adventurous feel.
Some of those bushes had blackberries on them, and I was shocked at how sweet they still were, in September! So: lunch.
Our final night on the Big Island (move over, Hawai’i–actually, never mind, you’re already pretty far over) we spent in Nanaimo, in order to catch our ferry next morning. I walked all over, discovering the best kind of quirks, like this Flower Wall:
Along with flowers, Nanaimo boasted its own poster-of-random affirmations, because I found a number of these type of signs, here and there:
Next week, the exciting BC conclusion: University of! Thanks for riding along.
because stories are important
Live Life Write
Preserving Lopez Hill
An Independent Nondiscriminatory Platform With No Religious, Political, Financial, or Social Affiliations - FOUNDED 2014
Journal of a Writer-in-Residence on the Washington State Ferries
a year of not reading white men
where love, inspiration, and encouragement collide
Author, Blogger, Social Media Jedi
An American Naturalist in Costa Rica
I like birds
Celebrating Nature and Magic for Kids of all Ages
Believes everyone has a story to tell.
Will Backpack For Chocolate
Finding Yessings and Blessings in Lifes Messings!
Urban Fantasy Author
Will Backpack For Chocolate
Will Backpack For Chocolate
Wing's World 