28.07.09
    To balance out the extravagance of the flight to Victoria, we elected to come back on public transit in the early afternoon. We arrived two minutes after our bus left downtown Victoria, so we walked a few blocks and discovered a tea store where we both stocked up. Back at the stop, a novel-looking double-decker pulled up around 2pm and we happily hopped on board and headed upstairs. The ride was warm and scenic, though by this time the effects of our early flight and busy morning were beginning to become apparent. My co-worker fell asleep and I was nodding off as we came to the ferry terminal. Others on the bus did not have nearly as relaxing a ride, as sounds of retching could be heard and we jumped splashes of vomit on the way out.
    At the ferry counter, efficient staff processed people in line, hampered by two women in front of us who were determined to use up all their Canadian change. On other trips (with keener people), I stood on deck through the entire duration keeping watch for unusual wildlife. That trip rewarded us with two types of porpoises and a possible Minke whale. This day was beautiful and the water calm, we went and found a spot in the foreword lounge where we could nap. This was mostly successful except for people who kept sitting in the attached seats behind us and banging around, as well as the trio of loud women (a mom and two daughters) who chose the seats behind us as an excuse to talk to a good-looking guy quietly reading a book nearby.
    Ninety or so unrestful minutes later and we were in Tsawassen. We were shunted into long sloping corridors leading us to an "arrivals" area where we all formed a disorganized queue in the afternoon heat, waiting for the one bus which services the area. It's as far out as I've ever been on public transit, and they helpfully post how much extra cash you have to fork over to get up to the correct number of zones.
    The bus pulled up and the driver leaned out saying something indecipherable to those (like us) more than 10m away; something about not sitting in the back. We sat in the middle seats of the articulated bus, the ones in the accordion area. Other people who had no idea what the driver said (which he didn't deign to repeat over the speakers) headed for the inexplicably empty back. Other people informed them, but this was far from effective communication. Eventually all was worked out and we were headed through the highways and fields of distant suburbia.
    We pulled into a vast bus loop in the middle of a place I had no recognition of. The bus stopped, the engine was turned off, and a lot of people got off. This was not the ultimate destination, and I had no idea how else to get there. We chose to stay on the bus, along with a fair number of others. Some kind of maintenance discussion was going on, and we were assured we'd get where we were going.
    Sure enough, we were underway again. We pulled up behind a similar bus at another stop and were informed that we were switching buses. We obediently trudged off the first bus and got on the second, and our driver followed, opening all the windows himself on the new bus. "He's sure not in a rush," my co-worker observed.
    From there it was a short trip to the transfer station I was familiar with. We waited in the shade of the bus shelter as another, considerably fuller bus pulled up. We were standing in the aisle and got separated by the shifting crowds of people fighting their way through. Finally we hit my stop and I jumped off and waved back at my co-worker who had scored a seat. Another bus ride, then the train, then a few exhausted minutes of walking got me home, a full five hours from when we started out. The cost of the entire return trip: $12.75.

26.07.09
    In more tales of travel, we spent a day in Victoria last month. We had an early morning thing, which meant either a ridiculously early (and by no means guaranteed) ferry, a harbour plane, or going a day before and spending the night. The priority of sleep ruled out the first, and the second two seemed to be comparable in terms of cost, so we chose the harbour plane. The plane goes from Coal Harbour to Inner Harbour making it ludicrously convenient. I showed up at the terminal early, helped myself to the nicely laid out breakfast bar with a choice of four blends of coffee, and settled into an armchair. All the other people seemed to be on business, lots of middle-aged suits, several of them greeted each other by name.
    My co-worker arrived and we milled around the deck, checking out the intertidal. It's a mark of true biologists when you can bandy about names like Fucus and Ulva without giggles.
    When it came time to board, we were well placed to be the first ones on the plane. The pilot helped us up and put our bags in the back. "Can I ride shotgun?" asked my co-worker, who ended up sitting up front with her own headset. My envy was tangible.
    The propeller started up, with no small amount of noise, added to which was a high-pitched reverberation that seemed to cut right through your eardrums. I had earplugs in my bag, which was fifteen feet behind my strapped-in location, and under everyone else's bags, so it may as well have been outside the plane. I opted not to spend the duration of the flight with my fingers in my ears.
    I had plenty of distractions, as we started moving, bouncing across the wake of another sea plane as we took off due North, then swung over Lion's Gate and across the water. We were low enough to make out all the blown down trees in Stanley Park and see the gulls over the water. We paralleled the ferry's route, which I've travelled enough to recognize the landmarks along the way. From this viewpoint I could see all the houses and hidden bays on every island. I had my camera out the whole time and in unnecessary deference to the serious crowd around me, tried to keep from bouncing in my seat with excitement.
    A short while later we could see the familiar buildings of Downtown Victoria. We came in fairly high and did this roller-coaster drop (or at least that's what it felt like) before a smooth and gentle landing. We hopped out and had a ten minute walk to our destination.

22.07.09
    Yesterday morning: bunny. This evening: bunny.

20.07.09
    I was walking home last week; two other guys were taking the same route, so I slowed down to further isolate myself from humanity. We passed through the gate, where you leave the highway and are suddenly immersed in greenery and birdsong, which usually goes unnoticed. Not this day, however, as both guys did an extended stare-and-walk at something off to the side. By the time I reached that point, I had my suspicions, and sure enough, the bunny was back. Exact same location as last time, but I haven’t seen it since.

    My new office has a window, which I treasure, being deprived of a workspace with a window since 2006 (actually, it has two walls and a giant door all made out of glass, which is sort of overcompensation). I am, however, on the ground floor of what has turned out to be a high-traffic area. There are the usual building occupants walking by, which is fine, then the landscapers who are using the space directly outside our windows as their office/lunchroom, which is temporary, then there are all the random people walking around seemingly checking out the building. Some of them look official, some decidedly not. Many have cameras.
    A few days ago, I was walking around inside and kept seeing the same guy just on the other side of the doors I happened to pass. It was kind of disturbing.
    Today there was a guy who came right up against my window to take a photo (in the other direction, thankfully). He decided our “keep off the grass” sign on the newly seeded “meadow” (not a lawn), was not adding to his shot, so he pulled it up to take his photo, and never bothered putting it back. Then he came in. I was working with a co-worker at my desk, when the guy walked into my office and asked if this was the Sustainability building, because he was trying to find it and someone told him it was our building.
    “No,” we said, and explained what our building was.
    “Could you look it up?” he asked, since all we were doing on my computer was working.
    I was kind of curious (and kind of annoyed), so we looked it up and found that there indeed will be a Centre for Interactive Research on Sustainability, when they’re finished building it two years from now.
    Last week we put up a sign to keep people in the building from bugging us, looks like it’s time for another sign for the people outside the building. I’m thinking of making it bigger this time.

    In other notes on wildlife, I think I saw a Green Heron this weekend. It was a small, dark, drably coloured wading bird in a freshwater pond under overhanging trees. Pond is really being too pastoral; it was a litter-strewn discoloured sump of standing water between acres of parking lots along a baking hot suburban road. Still, the heron/egret shape was pronounced, and there’s nothing else that fits remotely, the American Bittern is too large and has vastly different markings. The habitat is a perfect match (minus the asphalt) and the location is close to a known site in my guide. The Green Heron is described as “uncommon” and “secretive” so I’m rather pleased.

10.07.09
    There was a bunny in the woods today. Not a long-limbed skittish shadow disappearing into the undergrowth, a cute brown thing with perky ears happily nibbling grass that didn’t move as I passed fifteen feet away. I’m guessing it was someone’s pet, either an escapee or a release. If it’s just one bunny, that’s fine, the hawks will get a meal out of it sometime. If it’s the first sign of an infestation, that’s another thing. Invasive plants I’ll rip out of the ground with no remorse, invasive bunnies… I’d find another strategy. Adopt-a-hawk, perhaps.

06.07.09
    I went birding several weeks ago, which I hardly ever do. It involved getting to the lake by 6. I woke up at 4 and couldn't get back to sleep. I showed up early, taking pictures of the slugs munching through the butterfly garden. When everyone assembled I discovered I was the only person under 40 (Ce, I need you to come back).
    We went to look at the lake, nothing unusual was around, but the Tree and Violet-Green Swallows were circling over the water in an acrobatic gyre, rising and falling chasing after insects. We gawked. "Good for depression," stated our guide. A Red-Tailed Hawk and Bald Eagle were in their usual haunts, and several Great Blue Herons put on a show for us.
    We headed into the woods to stalk songbirds, found a Black-Throated Gray Warbler, several American Grosbeaks, and a couple exhibitionist Swainson’s Thrushes. We were headed down a trail, talking noisily, when our guide suddenly exclaimed, turned around, walked back 20 metres and started peering 30 metres up a tree, where he had just heard a Western Tanager. Skillz man, skillz.

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