We didn’t quite make it to the Sunshine Coast on Saturday.
There were some excellent intentions – we left just after 10am, giving us plenty of time to get to Horseshoe Bay via Marine Drive. It was a lovely day, and the scooting was great. Around 10:40, we arrived at The Intersection and confusion set in: to our left was Horseshoe Bay, and to the right was a sign saying “Ferry Traffic”. Ed was in the “well, we need to get to the Horseshoe Bay Terminal, so we should go to Horseshoe Bay” camp, whereas my logic and DPS told me that we should be heading right, following the sign. Since I was in the lead, my cuisine reigned supreme. We went right, and immediately found ourselves on the TransCanada.
I had no fear, though. There were signs, signs that said “Ferry Traffic take Exit 4”. Heavy construction on the highway meant the speed limit was 50 km/h, easily handled by even the wussiest of our gang. Eventually, though, the construction ended and the speed limit shot up from 50 to 90 – no worries, we’ll just ride on the shoulder until exit 4. We were doing an inordinate amount of backtracking, but signs don’t lie.
Exit 4 loomed ahead, and this is where shit got weird. All along we were told to take Caulfield Drive to the ferries, which is fine – except at the exit, another sign said Ferries were to the left and Caulfield Drive was to the right. Well, fuck. We stopped to regroup, and as no one wanted to ride the highway again it was decided that we needed to head BACK to Horseshoe Bay, and take the ferry from there. We made our way through mystery neighbourhoods and expensive houses, winding down secret roads and barely visible “no exit” signs. Finally, we found ourselves back on Marine Drive .. at Lighthouse Park. Our little detour set us about 16 kilometers from where we needed to be. Super!
We did the drive again, this time following the Horseshoe Bay sign at The Intersection. There were signs all around that said “Ferry traffic this way”, so we followed them to find ourselves in the middle of Horseshoe Village. We rode around a little longer, then illegally parked so Ed could dart into the ferry terminal and ask where the hell we were supposed to go. In a group of four, in a village 4 blocks long, we couldn’t find the damn entrance to the ferry and it was infuriating.
Turns out, there was a good reason for that – we weren’t at the ferry terminal. I mean, we were, but for foot passengers only. There was no way for vehicles of any kind to get on the ferry from the Village; you were supposed to take the TransCanada to Exit 4 and turn off at Caulfield Drive meaning I was right all along (this is important, honest). Well, fuck. None of us wanted to backtrack along the highway again, so at this point (around 11:15am; we had missed the 11:10 sailing) we decided to change our plans and spend some time in Horseshoe Village instead. It would save us the cost of the ferry, the need to backtrack, and we’d get to hang out in a cool place for the afternoon – not too shabby. I still want to do Sunshine Coast at some point, but it’ll just have to happen later. Maybe in August. Yes, August.
I’m glad that my DPS didn’t fail me after all. I was seriously worried when it looked like I had led us all astray, and Ed was being a little vindictive about it – but my faith in my directional abilities held strong, and I pledge to always listen to my inner compass because it is never wrong, even when it looks like things are bad. So there.
Sunday was for cleaning – I went through all my drawers and closets, and filled three garbage bags with stuff for Goodwill. My underwear drawer is pristine – things are folded and organized, and my bras are filed by colour and newness. There still isn’t a hell of a lot of room in the closet, but it’s better than it was – you can walk around the bed now, and it turns out we actually do have a floor.
This is just the beginning, I’m afraid. Ed’s parents are coming for their first visit ever over the August long weekend, and I’m feeling about nervous about the state of our apartment. It’s getting there, but there’s still a lot of clutter that needs to be sorted and dealt with. Shouldn’t be a problem. We’re the only people I know NOT going to Pemberton next weekend, so I’ll have plenty of time to clean while everyone else is out having (expensive, loud, sticky, yucky) fun.