Salt.

Today was the day. We were up early and ready to go.

The drive South to Crofton was easy as the roadways were clear early morning. The trick was getting the baby all set–and mum and dad too. We all piled into the family van and made way.

There is always an eagerness when you’re trying to make a connection. You come to a fork in the road, your eyes strained at the road signs. You want to make it. You want to breathe deep knowing that you’re in line and all set. When everything is good you can relax knowing you’re on your way.

We were on our way alright. At Ladysmith we pulled right with mum asking, “is this the exit for cinnamon buns?” I nodded. We had made good time and had plenty to spare for a warm treat. One brewed coffee and one decaf Americano for mum and the missus. One breakfast wrap and an orange poppyseed cinnamon bun. They were happy. I had gobbled up an espresso at home and was willing to wait for the island goodies ahead. Thank you, Old Town Bakery.

Crofton. Exit left. Don’t miss the sign for Salt Spring. We drove past Catalyst Paper mill, zipping by patches of in season corn on the right. Mind the speed zones. We were third in line for our sailing. We slowed down. Dad and I sat on the pier watching a recreation boat pick up a friend below . The boat backed in toward the dock. A bag of fresh salmon was handed off, the friend climbed aboard.
“Crabbing?” the driver asked an adjacent boat.
“Yup. Haven’t seem ’em like this in three years,” replied the other.

It was time to sail. After our brief crossing we landed at Vesuvius Bay. Mum at the wheel. We zipped across island right into downtown Ganges. Barb’s Buns. Locals abounded. Sunworn hats, shaggy beards, over friendly pups licking crumbs up from under patio tables. This was Ganges.

Chicken caesar wrap, two olive tapenade cheese twists. We sat, lounged, nibbled. I was in charge of coffee. Salt Spring Coffee to be exact. The store has been closed on Ganges these last few years. This year I was ecstatic to see a food truck outside the storefront selling their coffee. A double espresso, and then another as I forgot to ask for a long pour. A decaf Canadiano. Cappuccino for mum. We were well fed.

Next? It was time to drive the island. Having holidayed here in the past we knew our route. South. Garry Oaks winery caught our eye. We stopped in for a taste. Theseus, Ariadne, Labyrinth reds and whites full of flavour and fairly balanced. Dad insisted on taking home a 2016 Pinot Noir. “Drinks like a Foch,” he said.

Beer next. We left two bleating sheep behind at the vineyard and rolled down the winding roadway to Salt Spring Island Ales. Dry Porter, Golden Ale, Earl Grey IPA, Heather Ale. All simple and local like the island. Yum. We settled on a tall bottle of Golden Ale and sipped to our health before finding some cheese.

Salt Spring Island Cheese. Off Reynolds Road, this spot has been a longtime favourite. A lot of updates to the buildings, but the same tasty cheese. We crowded into the tasting room and sampled Chili Chèvre to ripened Romelia soft goat cheese. The ice cream at the cafe was some of the best.

Opting for no dinner, but instead a picnic of goodies collected throughout the day we settled into our accommodation. Not much has changed on the island. It has, in one opinion, merely matured over the years. People come and go. Some, as the the local map suggests, decide not to take the ferry back home.

We were only staying the night. The Saturday morning market on our minds. With full bellies and tired eyes we settled in for the night.