Dinghy Pirates

Eons ago, Jean and I wanted to float down the channel in Penticton on inflatables – the year was 2003. Life happened and we never had the chance…I moved away, years passed, I moved back, years passed, until one day we decided that we’d been pissing around long enough and set aside a weekend in June to make the trip. The last weekend in June arrived and we packed up our goods into my auto and took off into the wild blue yonder. The fact that we waited seven years aided the situation – we now had a luxury villa to stay at (thank you, Jean’s boyfriends’ mom), and we were mature enough to not scream about how whore-y and perma-plastered we are when riding the river bus (more on that later.)

After three and a half hours on the road, we pulled into our weekend getaway home up in the hills north of Kelowna.





And it’s all ours for the weekend! Let’s take a tour:
















Jean’s bedroom! No big deal.




My bedroom.


I love dimly-lit bathrooms. Then you can’t see all your facial imperfections. Unlike the one downstairs. I cringe in remembrance.






The ‘hood.



As we got into Kelowna pretty late, we bummed around for a while and then went to the Superstore (aka Suckerstore or Stupidstore) for grub. We followed that up with a late-night TV special of “Mean Girls” and then it was off to the luxuriously-appointed bedrooms for a sleep from heaven.

The next morning we were up and off before nine as we were booked in at O Spa for pedicures, courtesy of Pattie, our absent house mother. This stay just keeps getting better.


It’s going to be a hot one.









Yay! The girls who did our ‘cures were extremely nice, English-speaking (a plus – trust me), and genuinely interested in their work. And I didn’t end up bleeding this time! Success all around! Except the fact that I took a giant chunk out of the polish before we even left the building. But the nice receptionist got down on the floor to fix it. Amazing.

The coffee shop next door also had a lovely patio that we took a break at.



After heading to Canadian Tire (aka Crappy Tire) so Jean could score the dinghy deal of the day, we began our journey out of town, stopping for lunch at the Woodfire Bakery to see what the #8 restaurant in Kelowna tastes like (according to Trip Advisor). They also had a patio – I think it’s popular out here…given that it’s hotter than hell, it makes sense.




My chicken Caesar – I didn’t even get down half. What a truckload.

Like I mentioned earlier, the whole purpose of this trip was to float down the channel in Penticton on inflatables, so we are going to do it come hell or high water. High water might actually assist us in our plan, but that’s neither here nor there. The ride to Penticton was a long one – you hit Peachland, Summerland, Happyland, Rainbowland, and a bunch of other hokey-named towns (okay, I’m jk-ing about some of those names), plus a nasty bout of construction on the highway. We crawled along for a period as it crackled and steamed outside. Yeesh!





The dinghy was a two-personer (the box showed a man and child), so we assumed it meant two-regular sized people. Well, it was kind of right, as long as we had our appendages mostly sticking out. At least it had two oars for safety. We prepared for launch.







As you can see, I’m as white as an albino, and I slathered on SPF 60. Jean wore SPF 4. I suggested that she may as well have just used spit or something, because what good is SPF 4? At least it smelled nice.

The channel was, well, kind of like a small river (as channels usually are) and was fairly sparsely populated today (thank the Lord…I can only deal with so many screaming girls in bikinis at a time.) I kind of wish we had brought snacks or something, but I spent my whole time protecting my camera in two Ziploc bags, so food would have detracted from that. I probably shouldn’t bring a $1,000 camera along in a sadly-inflated dinghy, but I’ve been known to make an occasional bad choice. Urg.






These guys were nasty little squawkers. They were all trying to bite us and stuff…well, they would have, if we had got any closer.





We sailed on and on, the journey stretching up to over an hour. I was sure the sun was just munching through my sunblock so I kept re-applying. I was lying there in a swimsuit, doing nothing at all and still sweating from the sun. Yeeshka. For the most part, we kept away from the shrieking girls and obnoxious couples on air mattresses and soldiered on to the new world. But not without a little ditty that was oh-so-appropriate:


Though I realize boat might be a bit of stretch.

Once we hard reached the meeting point to catch the bus back, we waited around for the bus in the hot hot heat…as the shrieking girls, in tubes far behind us, arrived to wait as well. UGH. As the fates would have it (and they always do, for me anyway), the girls plopped themselves in the benches all around us and proceeded to shriek about how “wasted” they were going to be once they were in University and how so-and-so was going to give them unlimited booze that evening, and how they were going to be all slutty for the rest of their life, etc. Thankfully, once the driver started up the bus, he cranked his Smashing Pumpkins and 50 Cent so loud that it nearly drowned out the shrieking. Nearly.



Also, he drove with the bus door cranked wide open.





After visiting Jean’s old house and viewing the fat guy standing half-naked in the front yard, we tried to find our way up to the giant stone “Penticton” setup on the hill. It was also a lookout – great view!








Okanagan lake. OGOPOGO! WHERE ARE YOUUUUUU!



As you can probably tell, the view was pretty majestic. Here’s my panoramic to share (click to enlarge!):



Sufficiently cooked, we headed back down the hill with Starbucks in mind. One Vivanno later, we are back on the road to Kelowna.



Dinner tonight was on the patio…overlooking the valley with a fancy awning. Jean BBQ’d some chicken with toasted garlic bread and salad. It’s like we live here or something.





As if we hadn’t soaked in enough of the outdoors, we headed out to the waterfront after dinner and partook in the evening with scads of others. We were also on the hunt for a gift for our absent house parents, and were met with nothing but closed stores. Wine it is. We hit up the closest alcohol shop and asked for the most expensive wine in the house and bought it. We should be safe with that.

And, considering we were the coolest (aka grungiest) people walking the block, we got invited to a show by some dudes on the road whose band was playing later that night. Jean says they were called something like Gypsy Fist and were with some other band whose name was _____ dicks or something. In any situation, I feel I am too old for shows and frankly I just can’t be bothered to ruin my hearing further. Unless, of course, MxPx comes to town. Ha ha. Anyway, it was fun.







OGOPOGO!


I like to ride Falkor-style.









After continuous wandering which brought us into some nasty little casino and back out again, we ended up back at the car and onto home, where wine and food awaited. What? We like to eat and dine like it’s 1999.


This wine had some wicked-nasty bite. I can’t drink wine. It all tastes the same to me.

Since we are old and get tired easily, we headed to bed even before midnight. Oh to be a spring chicken again.

In the bright AM, we packed up our goods and made our way away from the luxurious abode and headed down into south Kelowna for one of my favourite activities (yes, of course it was eating), a Sunday brunch buffet at the Hotel Eldorado. Apparently it’s a “must-do” and only $30 a pop.









Pluses: The hashbrowns, lox, and couscous. Minuses: Selection was low…and the French toast was gummy. So…I can’t say it was a “must-do”. That could be my brunch-snobbery talking, but nothing ever has, or likely will, come close to the spread at the Fort Garry Hotel in Winnipeg and I’m sorry, but I can’t get over that. So, it was OK. The view was nice!





After we had stuffed ourselves (as we usually do), we headed further south yet to Cedar Creek Estate Winery. My first wine tour! I’m going to be a winer. What’s that? It’s a wino? Right. Well, I like winer better.






I’m not going to lie – that ladies’ butt on the far left is really distracting in this picture. And not in a good way.

They offer tours for $5 which includes free wine at the end. Yay! But do you remember? I don’t know the difference from one wine to the next. So I guess I’m kind of indifferent.








Merlot!


The fermenting room




These are fancy, ridiculously-priced barrels made from a tree born in 1650. It’s no thang! I wouldn’t know the difference anyway.

We sampled four wines after the tour and then I tried another two, because I wanted to buy some. Reds all taste the same…but I really though the Gewurztraminer was decent for a white! So it’s my current indulgence.

After a hairy trip back through sheets and sheets of down pouring rain, we settled back into our (relatively) cheap homes. I’d like to head back up there at some point, but I’ve been so spoiled now! Sigh. Thanks for the hook-ups Jean! Next weekend I’m off to the Island, so more blogs aren’t far off…but I’m sure you can wait. :P

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