Wineries by bike. Or, actually, by bus.
One of the nice things about living in Victoria is the fact that there are quite a few options for weekend mini-vacations that really make you feel like you’re getting away, but require none of the planning and booking and long travel times that a real vacation would. If you can get yourself to the ferry terminal and sit on a boat for twenty minutes, you can end up on a little island packed full of eclectic artisans, farm fields, a hiking trail or two, and more tie-dye-clad hippies than you can shake a stick at.
On Saturday, my sister and I did exactly that: Hopped onto a ferry to Salt Spring Island, jumped onto a decidedly small-island interpretation of public transit along with a handful of tourists and a smattering of Patchouli-scented locals, and emerged in the town of Ganges (it’s just so fitting that Salt Spring Island would have a town named after a river in India) where a weekend market was in full swing. This particular market was packed with island locals hawking a vast array of tie-dyed linens, pottery painted in psychedelic colours, and “earthy” wood-beaded jewellery and was admittedly a bit sparse in the gourmet food department, but we still managed to emerge with a raspberry pastry, a loaf of freshly baked bread, and a cup of tepid mango lemonade between the two of us.
The original plan for the rest of the day went something like this: From the market, we would stock up on picnic supplies, rent two bikes, and spend the afternoon exploring the island’s wineries and cheese makers (if you get a chance, you absolutely need to try the white truffle chèvre from the Salt Spring Island Cheese Company and the Tomme d’Or from Moonstruck Organic Cheese) before heading back home. In reality, the day unfolded slightly differently than we had intended.
As it turns out, small rocky islands are covered in, well, hills. Lots of hills. Hills that don’t really look like much when you’re viewing them from the window of a bus, but suddenly morph into long, steep ramps of misery shimmering with heat waves as soon as you’re facing them on a bike, dressed in decidedly non-athletic clothing (ever tried biking in leggings, a wool sweater, and ballet flats? I have some advice for you: avoid it), and carrying a bag loaded down with gourmet picnic supplies and a heavy camera. While I’m certainly no stranger to exercise, neither me nor my sister were looking forward to sweating our way from vineyard to vineyard. And then, while we were debating whether it would be completely lame to turn and ride straight back to the bike rental shop, the chain fell off my bike. One minute everything was fine; the next minute it was dangling there with an awkward droop to it, just begging me to return the bike. And so I complied. And purchased us a bottle of locally-brewed beer each to ease the sting of defeat.
But here’s a little bit of advice: Don’t leave the liquor store realizing that you don’t have a bottle opener and then decide that you really don’t need a bottle opener, that you can just use one of the rocks at the beach where you’ll be picnicking to pry open the cap, because here’s how that will turn out: All of the small rocks will mysteriously crumble in your hands when any pressure is applied to them, your attempt at opening one bottle with another will get you absolutely nowhere, and when you finally manage to pop the top off on the edge of a boulder and take a victorious sip, the beer will come shooting out of the bottle and hit you squarely in the face.
Anyway. On to the wineries. We may have been deposited on the edge of a dusty road by the bus (after the driver drove right past the stop, all the way to the ferry, and then sheepishly directed us to another bus heading back in the opposite direction) instead of cruising gracefully up on bikes as originally planned, but the point is that we finally made it there. And the wine? Well, it was quite worth the trouble. We tasted several locally grown and produced varieties, nibbled on some cheese, then bought glasses of our favourites and a wedge of dark chocolate to enjoy from a patio overlooking the vineyard.
And when we were done there, we trudged down the road to another winery and repeated the process. Relaxing? Very.
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