Sally and I had traveled over to the community dock with one of our dogs, Fiddich, to see the new-and-improved road work being done at the ‘end of the road’.
As readers know, we have a very steep gravel hill to traverse to get from the parking area to where our boats are docked. It is about 200 feet of trail and slope and the incline is at about 25 degrees. Getting up and down the hill is an effort and, when carrying heavy loads, a real challenge. The local road crew was paving that last 100 feet of road so that we can drive our vehicles with heavy loads all the way down to the beach to lift directly into our boats. It will be a huge improvement. It has been a long time coming and we wanted to check on the progress.
We’ll still have 15 kms of single-lane, dirt logging road over pretty hilly terrain to help keep the vast mass of civilization at bay but having the last and hardest slope paved will make our bi-weekly trips to town incredibly easier. We are very pleased with this.
Suddenly, “Iz zat your dok? It is a nice dok! You haff a very nice dok!” One of two hikers coming up the trail towards us from the community dock smiled and spoke to Sally and I as we headed back from our look at the road work to our boat. She was obviously quite German.
Sally smiled back and agreed that we had a nice dock and explained that it was a community dock.
“Äuf! (I have no idea what ‘auf’ means), a community dok! Very goot! Everybody’s goot dok?”
“Yes. Everybody who lives out here uses it.”
“Everybody? A community dok? Well, zat’s goot……..goot dok. Zat dok is much better than my dok!”
“You have a dock?”
“Ya! Two doks! Two naughty Jack Russels. Not goot doks!”
Sally finally realized they had been talking at cross purposes.
”Yes, dok!” laughed the German woman.
Fiddich had been left in the boat and told to ‘stay’ while we went up the hill to see the road work underway. Our tourists had obviously just met him while they were down on the dok taking pictures. And he had, indeed, been a goot dok and had stayed despite their entreaties to get him within patting range.
And so the conversation shifted to dogs and where we lived. We all chatted nicely and they accompanied us back down to the dock and used their telephoto lens to see across to our island. Fiddich was released and came off the boat to greet them properly this time.
A nice conversation ensued about Canada and Germany and dogs and nature and then they were about to take their leave. One of the women extended her hand as a formal gesture of leaving, saying “In Germany we shake hands.” Sally shook her hand and said, “In Canada we hug.”
Their faces lit up. “Vell, zen ve hug! No!? Ve hug!”
And so it was that we were on the receiving end of two warm bosomy embraces from two unidentified German frauleins on a remote dock in the middle of nowhere.
You can’t make this stuff up.
Roadwork, dogs, frauleins and fun. Admittedly simple stuff but it is this kind of stuff that makes it a pretty good place to live.