Victoria, BC 2 September 2019

Port Angeles, after a short road trip through the usual verdant green forest of the Olympic Peninsula, is a scruffy little town with a wonderful sculpture fixation. This silver what's-it decorates a large random cement block on the sidewalk across from a pretty little pocket park I take the same picture of every time we're here (so I spare you it this time.)

We're waitin' for the ferry...

Not that screwy a day, even though we are preparing to leave the country!

These are, presumably, spare screws (nautical term for propeller) from the MV Coho, our steed that will propel us across the Strait of Juan de Fuca to British Columbia's crown jewel (and provincial capital).

Both of us find this kind of concentration of humanity (below, waiting then loading onto the Coho) trying in the extreme, but the Blackball folks manage it smoothly and, except for a 10 minute wait cooped up in our cars in the ferry on the Victoria side (because the Canadian immigration facilities are too small) we didn't feel inconvenienced. 

Once on the ferry, it's an easy passage over glassy seas.

Below, we enter the harbour (note that Canadian U) past the new cruise ship facilities. Every time I come to Victoria, I'm surprised by the growth ...and surprised by my surprise. In my mind, Victoria remains a graceful, old-timey city, typified by the Empress Hotel (not the Fairmont Empress), the one-time overnight stop for anyone boarding a P&O liner for the orient. Can you spot the old girl there among the pre-stressed concrete monstrosities?

Ninety minutes after our right-on-time departure, we're sitting waiting to be welcomed into Canada. "Where are you from?"

"Caspar, California."

"Where's that?"

"North coast between San Francisco and Eureka."

"Coast, you say. That must be pretty."

"Oh, yes; sometimes we wonder why we leave."

"Well, hope you find it just as pretty here. Welcome to Canada. Safe travels."