So this time it’s for real, I’m pulling the plug on this pleasant project, this hopeful hobby. The costs are hard to justify and I really don’t write enough. So here’s one last post, which will also have to be a Merry Christmas card since Canada Post is still on strike until Tuesday. Also, I think it has been a weird year all around, and by weird I mean not that great, so I wanted to reach out with an e-hug for all of you. Here it is.
Turns out I was wrong, we do have videos from the Percé trip. They are a little rough, but they give you a feel for the waters around “le rocher Percé” and Bonaventure island.
Famed for its pierced rock, an ancient outcrop probably once linked to Bonaventure island, Percé is as far east as you can go on the south bank of the St-Lawrence river. It is not quite the Atlantic, it’s the gulf of St-Lawrence, but that did not stop u-boats from hunting in those waters during WW2.
Buckle up compadres, it’s been a while so this might be a long and bumpy one.
I came extremely close this autumn to putting the key in the door of this blog/mini vanity project and throwing the (biodegradable) key into an unnamed abyss. After all, there are costs and no matter how much I enjoy writing (you should give it a go, it’s really fun) in the context of my days it started to feel a little bit frivolous. maybe even wasteful. Plus I see most of you on a regular basis, so it’s not like you need my long winded prose to stay in touch.
Way back in time, well before wifi and full body airport scans, I bought my first bottle of “premium” bourbon. It was Blanton’s, touted by the company as the world’s first single barrel bourbon, and it was daaaaaaamn good. In those heady crazy days, bourbon was undergoing something of a renaissance, it was available, affordable (screw you scotch!), and several distillers offered fancy versions of their products. These days are long gone. Today, in Québec at least, you will no longer be able to enjoy the enticing promises of Rare Breed, or Booker’s, and I won’t even mention Pappy, because, well, if you know bourbon you know what I mean. It’s not about cost (though they are now on par with scotch), they are simply not to be found. Even “regular” offerings like Elijah Craig and Knob Creek have deserted the shelves years ago. On a bad day Makers Mark can be hard to find. So imagine how excited I was when I heard rumors (read in a newsletter to be exact and less mysterious) that Blanton’s was making a comeback (of sorts). School girls at a Corey Hart concert had nothing on me.
I had not realized how much I missed the Ocean, or as I call Her, the Mysterious Lady of the Sea. After the Guadeloupe mini debacle, debacle is a strong word (though I feel we did get mini fucked over by the travel insurance that comes with our gold titanium diamond superhero credit card), we had to plan B in a hurry, sort of like the morning after too great a party. As we were cancelling trip number one due to mild civil unrest, I received a promotional email from a place we dove with previously on Cozumel. At the same time, a friend sent us an advertisement for a good deal on a resort on that very same island. I think Cozumel, the Island of Swallows, wanted us back. Since burning tires at crossroads kept us from the French Antilles, Mexico it would be. Avast me hearties!