Home from Home

 Much as I love travelling, I am a homebody at heart. I reconcile these two things easily when I am on the road. (I used to be fabulous at this when we were campers, throughout Ontario and from sea to sea in Canada.) 

Once I settle into a bnb or holiday let, I set out my lares and penates (okay, notebooks and spongebag) to suit me, and once I have my home built I am set to go exploring.

'Home from home' is the delightful English expression that explains that feeling for me. And the fact that I can hear my dear mum-in-law Alice saying it makes my heart hurt.

In August I spent a week on Gabriola Island, one of BC's exquisite gulf islands, reachable by ferry from Nanaimo, or float plane from Vancouver. I tend to do one of each in the course of a visit. Much of the visit is with dear old friends, who have settled on the island. 

But for a different experience this year, I booked 4 addtional nights at an AirBnB. The photos looked wonderful. But, as we say in those reviews, the real thing was even better. 

My hosts had created seating areas on the hillside. I breakfasted at one, had afternoon coctails on another, sat in the sun in all of them. 

My dear friend who suffers from vertigo found the entire property alarmingly tippy. I loved the feeling that if I started to roll, I would only stop at the ocean below.

Look way down. The home of my hosts (of which my home was the lower level) was set on the brow of a very steep wooded incline. And below, from my windows or the seats about my domain: sparkling ocean, shining white ferries, sails and engines of working and pleasure craft.

Look way up. Sky everywhere! Night darkness, stars, sunsets and sunrises, lightning and  rainbows all happened in front of my eyes.

   

The shoreline below was reached by public road. That shoreline was the incomparable stretch of Sandwell Provincial Park beach.

Can you blame me for thinking this would be a good forever home?