You can't imagine how happy I was, when I heard the Oaky was down this weekend. Because I knew, they would pull the Eskimo(Queen of Esquimalt) out of Langdale to fill in as the # 2 vessel out of Dep. Bay usually filled by Coco (Queen of Coquitlam) It meant I would get to have 1 final trip on her on a run long enough to really take in all her glory, before she is retired in September.
So here's how it went down;
I got to HorshoeBay around 2 & caught the Coco @ 3:00. It wasn't as crowded as I would have expected.I mean it was busy, sure - but not packed.
Well...when we got into Dep. Bay around 5, there was such a MOB, coming BACK, there was actually a Bottleneck in the walkway & they had to stop our crowd, heading out at one point, to clear up the jam. I had never seen that before. As I wasked down the walkway, the crowd catching the sailing was backed up past the back of the Cafeteria, however, that was NOTHING compared to the NEXT sailing. The scheduled 7:20 sailing, When I got up to the Arrivals point, they had actually CLOSED THE DOORS to the Departures & were actually QUEING the Footsies outside for the 7:20 pm! I had never, EVER seen them have to cut off the Foot Passengers like they do cars before. It was at this point, I KNEW it was gonna be chaotic. I waited for my chance & then, there was a break in the crowd heading back to HSB & somehow I managed to get through quite quickly. The Coco had just left, so it was gonna be a couple of HOURS until the next sailing. (I didn't tell them when I got my ticket, that I was actually gonna catch the 7:40 & NOT the 7:20. I'm a bad boy for messing up their count!) Soi when I trotted back to the waiting room, it was ALREADY packed & there was a lineup at the counter, past the Arcade. Keep in mind, the Coquitlam had JUST left, so these were the people left OVER. And, as I said - ALREADY the Cafeteria was full. So I wandered around the Terminal, trying for all my old Secret spots to avoid the crowds, but everybody wasd everywhere! There was an evil younc couple sucking fact on the seats beneath Berth 2 (Nicely secluded, by the way) I tried for even way over by Berth 1, but there were a few slack-jawed gawkers wandering around there. I mean, there was just NO WHERE to be alone. How DARE all these people come & ruin my tranquility! Couldn't they have gone & done their travelling some other time?
Eventually (I'm talking, like 7:30) the Cow arrived, & as I sat & watched the absolute MOB of Humanity cram through the Walkway to board. I couldn't believe my eyes. I mean IF they were adhering to the numbers required by the Feds, then the sheer number of Footsies, ALONE must have meant, they couldn't carry full Vehicular capacity, because I must have watched for 20 MINUTES STRAIGHT. A non-stop procession of people going down the walkway to the ship.
Then, the Eskimo arrived. The Cow wasn't finished loading yet (God knows WHERE she was putting everybody) so the Eskimo just glided lazily in the bay. It was a beautiful sight, actually. Finally the Cow pulled out & the Eskimo pulled into Berth 3. There was a fair number of Footsies on this sailing too, but NOTHING, i'm sure as compared to what the Cow just took.
So we all walked on via the Main Cardeck, as the Overhead Walkway to Berth 3 is under Renno's (Whole walkway has been removed) As soon as I opened that green door atop the Stairwell to the Passenger deck - there it was. That smell that only the Eskimo & the Van have now. You know that V-Class smell. I grabbed a spot outside the Chief Stewards office outside, just under the stairs (One of my favorite spots) & I began to pet my beloved ship & talk to her. I felt the same affection for her as an owner would have, say for a cat, or a dog that they are going to have to put down because they're too old. Which, in a sense is what will happen to the Esq & Van when the new ships arrive in just a matter of weeks now. They won't be able to retire them fast enough!
But right now, this was my private time with an old friend, & I don't care what the rational mind says about a collection of bolts & weldings not being a living thing. Maybe it's not life, as we know it, but when you have delivered hundreds of THOUSANDS - maybe even A MILLION people safely to their destination in a span of 45 years, when you've had people born, people die, people get sick (See Sunshine Breakfast) People be healed (Spiritually, or Ships Doctor) When you've provided a vehicle to travel some of the most beautiful scenery human eyes have ever seen - can you HONESTLY tell me that counts for NOTHING??? My god, I'm actually tearing up here. What I mean to say is, yes I talked to this ship, because she deserves AT LEAST that! I patted her gently, as I thanked her for all the memories she gave me. From all those games of Pepper 2 & Venture I would play in her Arcade in 1982, as I travelled to & from Victoria on a Saturday, to the wonderful Chicken Strip dinners I had in her Timeless Cafeteria, perpetually stuck in the 70's with it's bright plastic red. "Strips!" I can still hear the lady yell back to the cook, when I ordered.
To this final trip I would take on her. We hadn't even left dock yet, but I alreasy knew we would arrive safely. Even if we were gonna be late, we would get there. And that was the essence of her. Because despite all obstacles, you always knew - you just KNEW she would get you there. Somebody once said, if you treat her like a lady, she'll always take you home & that's what she was all her life. A lady. A lady who carried herself with poise & a quiet, unassuming dignity that didn't need to be outspoken. You just had to travel on her to understand.
She was a young lady in 1963, fresh out of the Drydock & eager to join her sisters. She was an accommodating lady in 1967, when they asked her to: "Put these things in your Cardeck. They'll help you grow." She was a fearless lady in 1970, when they told her: "We're going to have to put you to sleep for awhile, but when you wake up, you'll be bigger!" She was an understanding Lady in 1981, when they told her: "You're getting older & we need to make you taller to keep your worth." She was anh understanding lady in 1993, when they told her: "We no longer need you to work full time. We have newer, younger & BETTER ships to do your job. But you can still work part time." She was a tired, old lady when I boarded her today. But, she still managed to smile. I could FEEL her smile as I walked aboard. Like she was saying: "Thank you. Thank you for taking the time to see me one last time." As the Officer advised us to beware, ships whistle will be sounded - she gave an effort-filled "OOOOP" & we slowly glided out of dock. It was already past 8 & when the Captain welcomed us all aboard: "The Queen of ALBERNI" YES he actually SAID Alberni, before I guess someone on the bridge corrected him & he corrected his address. I could feel her almost laugh when the Captain got the name wrong, and why not? she's seen it all in her time. In what seemed to be a designed for final trip setting, we were treated to a spectacular sunset over the Strait & I was thankful I was able to share it this evening, with this special lady. I held her hand-rail as we watched the sun sink beneath the sea. Now, I would get to see her in all her nighttime jewelery With her many Fluorescent jewels, sparkling against the nighttime. She truly looked beautiful. I went to the Cafeteria for my last meal ever on her. I ordered the BC Burger & to no surprise, it was delicious. (40 year old grease tastes that way) Once finished, I strolled top deck, outside. Could it be? Maybe for this one LAST trip? But of course - no. The Boatdeck Aft lounge - DESPITE they're being enough people to justify opening it up, was closed. I'm almost certain now that the doors there are permanently closed & SEALED shut. I think the last time I was in there LEGIT, was when they still had the Buffet going in the early 80's
Before I knew it, we were rounding the corner into Horshoebay & of course, just as we were drawing paralell with the Boathouse Restaurant the announcement comes for all vehicle passengers to proceed to the Vehicle deck. You never SAW such a rushed scramble. Boy. The crew sure missed the boat on this trip. From screwing up the name of the ship, to a VERY late arrival announcement. Mind you, they had already done 13 hours today AND were to head BACK to Nanaimo with a load. You tell me these guys don't work hard?
But we were inching our way into dock & I frantically rushed around, snapping as many pics I could get before we all proceeded off. I gave her one last pat & said aloud: "Goodbye, old friend" to which the Deckhand gave me a quizzical look. I guess he's never loved a lady.
