Monozygotic Marvels Manufacture Mirthful Merry-Go-Round

Long anticipated when it was a future prospect and much savoured while it was live-action, the twins’ 2014 west coast visit now recedes in the rear view mirror: we delivered them into the care and custody of Air Canada this morning for the long haul back to Cape Breton.

Rather like young border collies, Lynn and Louise require plenty of outdoor exercise. Not for them a stroll in the mall or an afternoon watching Home & Garden television. From the airport we headed straight for the hills to knock the stuffing out of jet lag whilst ogling south Vancouver Island’s profusion of wildflowers and counting a dozen varieties of bird song.

We took three day trips by shank’s mare into the Sooke Hills: the Three Amigos, Mt. McDonald and Mt. Braden. The first of these was historic—the first-ever get-together of all five members of my hareem: Jan, Judith, Mary and the monozygotic marvels from Cape Breton. I could hardly contain myself.

My darling cousins likely rank our long walkabout with Garth, Carole and Judith on Saturna Island at the top of the heap of their west coast days. Pouncing on a sunny forecast, we took the ferry to Lyall Harbour, hiked Brown Ridge from Mount Warburton Pike and scrambled down Taylor Creek to Bruce Bight and Taylor Point. I count this hike the most spectacular in the entire region. The twins saw nothing that inclined them to disagree.

If one Gulf Island outing was a good thing two would have to be that much better. Chancing an iffy forecast we took the Cumberland Queen to Pender Island, grabbed the hiking sticks and got going again: George Hill, Spalding Hill, Brooks Point, Roe Island. The weatherman delivered better than he’d promised.

Apprehensive about what might have befallen the phenomenal forest of chocolate lilies at Brooks Point in the years since I last beheld it, I was gratified and grateful that the spectacle was every bit as grand as ever: thousands of Fritillaria just coming into their glorious peak. Offshore a pod of orcas elicited oohs and ahs by their calisthenic display of breaches, spyhops and tail-slaps.

I did my best to further infect the dynamic duo in the joy of birding. We rambled the Little Saanich Mountain forest and put the gumboots through their paces at Viaduct Flats and Panama Flats. The Cape Bretoners raked in one lifer after another: the two Townsend’s—both warbler and solitaire—mountain bluebird, brant goose, a cooperative American bittern.Before we knew it the trip list approached a hundred species.

The outdoor hours built thirst and appetite. Our local food and beverage purveyors capitalized. I treated the whole hareem and Mike to a ballyhooed five-part Indian feast. The twins perpetrated a much-applauded orzo of shrimp and scallops for the delectation of Garth, Carole and ourselves.

Twelve days of untiring mirth and merriment at the hands of my joy-abounding cousins is hard to surrender—heck, no one laughs more readily at my asinine tomfoolery than they do—but I take comfort from the prospect that if the cosmos cooperates the next installment of the merrymaking commences on the far side of the Canso Causeway in just a couple of months. Whoopee.