In light of the news that Vancouver, and more particularly, Vancouver Island, until 2020 where Mrs S and I made our home base, is now cut off from Canada and possibly the rest of the world, I’m awaiting a call from sister in law to ask for asylum over here in the Emerald Isle. She and eccentric brother in law are stuck in the mid island, with only one route out; the local airport, thence to Vancouver airport.
And the border to the USA is also closed. Or rather more accurately if you leave, you can’t come back into Canada without a ‘clean’ COVID test Which you pay for. Wonder if that applies to the migrants getting their bags carried for them by the Mounties in Ontario?
Flights from Vancouver seem to be little affected. According to the departure board, all the major airlines are getting off on schedule. However, now the local politicians are panicking, anything can happen in the next half hour.
The main Coquihalla (Pronounced coke-i-hal-la) highway down to Vancouver is washed out about forty miles east of the Vancouver suburbs near a place ironically named ‘Hope’, I kid you not. It’s like losing a chunk of the M40. I’ve stopped in that town on a few occasions dodging back and forth up the trans-Canada, and trust me, Hope is not as Hope hopes.
Mrs S and I are enjoying a quiet bit of smugness over our decision to leave BC when we did. We know it gets wet, and ferry shutdowns are a regular facet of life on the island, which is overall about the same landmass as mainland England with a 60th of the population.
Vancouver Island is not a bad place to live in terms of views and space, but too heavily infected with the PC virus for our tastes. Too suburban and self involved for our tastes. Too easily ‘offended’. That they are getting a thorough soaking by the weather however, does not mean that they will be any more or less wet.
They’ll still blame ‘man made global warming’ though. Even though the storms are more likely a symptom of cooling.