Summer Solace Issue
July, 1995. No. 8


WARNING!!!!

Due to the explicit and controversial nature of the above photograph, the High Tide has decided to publish it in 3D! To view this computer generated stereoscopic image you must: Remove your glasses if you wear them. Relax your eyes. Hold your computer to your face so that the tip of your nose just touches the screen. Then go cross-eyed by focusing on the line bar at the bottom. Hold in this position for 20 seconds and then sloowwlly pull back until your face is approximately 19 inches from the screen. At this moment a startling image should appear before your eyes! If it doesn't, try again; you must be doing something wrong.
And once again: if you are at all squeamish, humourously challenged, or easily upset by the High Tide's humour, DON'T LOOK! This is definitely not for the timid! You've been warned!
Land Claims Update
In a completely unexpected turn of events Bowen Islanders have completely embraced the Squamish Indian Band's landclaim of Bowen Island. Waterfront property owners have already begun tearing down their homes and are willingly relocating to the two reserves the Indians have provided.
There were just two parcels of land that the Band didn't want and that they have gratefully donated for the use of the present residents of the Island. One, the Poison Water Reserve, is located on Queen Charlotte Heights, and the second, the Swamp Township, is in the area known as Chevy Chase Corners. Residents are moving there and setting up communal camps in prefab units and mobile homes.
They seem undeterred by the notion of having to send their children off island for schooling or having to travel great distances to work themselves. In fact, most seem quite cheerful about giving up their traditional livelihoods that were based on land ownership and real estate speculation. As one of the new migrants , Ken Whiteland explained: "Real estate speculation was no way to live. The market was just too iffy. It had become a savage fight for survival and a lot of us were losing our land and dream homes."
Yet he remained upbeat when he described the new migrants mood in the camps. "This is way better than our old way of life. Without a real estate market there is now no fear of a housing slump or downsizing. After all, the Indians have promised us this land for "as long as the rivers flow and the grass is green."
Real Estate Report
Bowen Island housing sales have been experiencing a bit of a performance slump during the period of May through June. Agents have been reporting a marked flaccidity in the market. Gone are the days of the endlessly strong bull market. Over- expectations a nd high demand seem to have contributed to the decline. Nonetheless, some fantasy homes are still being erected.
From Our Files
5 Years Tomorrow. The High Tide, July 1, 2000.
"The much anticipated 2nd Millennium Salmon Derby was enjoyed by thousands of participants on Saturday, a particularly wet and nasty day. But alas, no salmon were caught for the 7th year in a row and no prizes were awarded."
10 Years Tomorrow. The High Tide, July 1st,2005.
"The weather didn"t cooperate as the 15th Round Bowen Sailing Race was another windless affair. Yet the sight of 5000 boats bobbing around the sewage outfall and hanging limp and misshapen spinnakers from their poles was still a breathtaking one. No one completed the course for the 10th year in a row."
15 Years Tomorrow. The High Tide, Aug 30, 2010.
"The spectacular annual event known as Bonefest went exactly as planned, yet again under wet and sodden skies. But the rain didn't dampen the enthusiasm of the crowd that had turned out by the dozens for this predictable and tame event. For the 20th year in a row the event was music-less."
30 Years Tomorrow. The High Tide, June 1, 2025
"Rob Thompson performed magnificently at the senior citizen's annual Sky Dance. He played familiar old tunes to a delighted, though somewhat unenthusiastic crowd. It is rumoured that it was his 100,000th rendition of Mustang Sally that he played that night. "
Island Peephole:
Rocky's Road to Fame
You may not know it but in our midst lives a star. Among the hundreds of baseball cap wearing, Ford F250 driving, nail banging carpenters on this island is a man who once towered above us all in his platform shoes.
Yes folks, that's Al 'Rocky' Cox in the photo second from right. During the heady days of the mid 70s disco era, Rocky was the left-handed bass player of the dance band Heatwave. They 'got down' and 'got funky', burning up the dance floors with their bell bottom pants and platform shoes on their world tour that stretched from here to ... well,... Whiterock! And that's where 'Rocky' got his name and the rest, as they say, is history.

So the next time you find yourself drinking coffee next to a couple of 2x4 heads talking fascias, soffits, and fish stories; look again. And imagine the spinning lights of a disco ball flashing across his silk shirt during the fever of his fame.

*a note on the photo: The High Tide's photo archive contains an extensive collection of historical shots of local personalities. Acquired from various sources, it is permanently on display in the washroom of Seaside #2 cabin and we are always on the lookout for more acquisitions. This particular photo was found taped, face down, over a stove pipe hole in a cabin that Rocky once lived in. His repeated attempts to steal, buy or destroy the photo were all repelled so that the High Tide could share this bit of historical heritage for the benefit and enjoyment of all.
Letters to the Editor
Dear High Tide,
I am outraged at the use of my name, and my business' name, in your last issue of the High Tide. I have never sold, nor do I ever intend to sell, hair shirts. They are, in my opinion, politically incorrect.
I demand an apology.
Lucinda

Dear Lucy,
Never wishing to offend, and always wanting to bare only the truth, the High Tide explored your clothes in an attempt to rectify this embarrassing situation.
And you are right. Amidst all the lingerie and large double breasted suits we could not find a single hair shirt. Our sincerest apologies.

Dear High Tide,
I am aghast at the lack of professionalism and the blatant distortion of facts in your reporting of the sinking of the Star King in your most recent edition ( 'End of an Era', High Tide, Mayday Issue)
wherein you continually referred to my former boat as "she". My God, man, there was nothing feminine about that vessel or its character!
He was cranky, miserable, ornery, stubborn, unreliable, dirty, grouchy, sleazy, unpredictable, twisted, bent, vindictive, and malicious. That boat was as male as it gets! Furthermore, I was also misquoted. The phrase I used should have been: "He saved my life by sinking at the dock, and not when we were at sea."
Also, to the vultures who stole parts of the boat while they were floating around the cove; the "Curse of the Star King" will come and get you! Don't laugh. In the past anyone who injured the boat has come across grave misfortune. And to the person who st ole the steering wheel, I feel sorry for you- if you are still alive!
And to the folks who offered their condolences, many thanks, for it was an awful thing. No more bilge pumps failing at 3 am on a Saturday night. No more sailboaters tying up wrong and doing damage to the old hull. No more fighting the engine to get one la st year out of it. No more catching on fire. No more rudders falling off. No more winches and transmissions failing at the worst possible time. No more getting lost in the fog. No more assholes pulling up your prawn traps or screwing up your fishing gear. And no more other skippers threatening your life because you outfished them with a fossil.
Good-bye old friend.
Yours Sincerely,
Pat McCready
Ex-Skipper of the Star King, CFV 22851
Announcement
The High Tide is now truly available on the Internet! At the end of the information highway you can catch the ferry to Bowen. With your computer you can now go from the Pentagon , to the Louvre, to the High Tide (http://www.wimsey.com/~rwright/) with just a click of your mouse! Our World Wide Web site is putting Bone Island on the world map.

And in keeping with the motto of "Think Globally, Act Locally" we are also proud to offer you free home delivery! Wake up and have the High Tide right at your front door! Our newspaper boys and midwives are now offering home delivery of the paper. Just send, phone or e-mail your pole number and we will deliver your issue to your front step.
Multiple Choices Advice Page:
Ask the Vet

Dear Dr. Foukyou,
Is pectin really made from cow hooves? You see, I am a fruitarian who only lives on jam and condiments. I make them all myself with locally picked fruit. but they always seem to stiffen up if I don't add pectin. What should I do?
signed
In a Pickle

Dear Pickle,
I've found two tricks that work especially well. One: salting your lab will probably cure the slug problem. And two: a 5 inch strip of zinc glued to its back will help get rid of the slime.		 Home Improvements
with Hammer Ed

Dear Hammer Ed,
I have an absolutely gross problem that is ruining my home. My lab has got slugs! Because it swims all summer and never dries off, the slugs have begun nesting in its fur. Not only that, moss is growing on its fat stomach and so now it leaves slimy trails all over the house. What the hell do I do?
signed
Slimy and Desperate

Dear Slimy,
I suggest you cover your tracks and keep quiet or there could be a big stain on your house, ... and your neighbours.		 Condiment Kelly

Dear Kelly,
I've recently found myself in a bit of a jam. It is a sticky situation when you realize you are in love with your neighbour's husband, but when you tell your wife and she admits to having an affair with his wife. . I mean, what do you do?
signed
Blown Away in Bowen Bay

Dear Blown,
If the jam stiffens up too soon you should cool it. And since you only like fruits, I suggest you give up on the cow.
Cornered Poets:
IN HEAT
I am ablaze again

a marionette to every whim
of my metabolism

pursued by thunder through my veins
between the dank sheets of my thighs

(even eye contact alone
is thrilling)

I shudder with a swarm of needs
whose purpose is merely eternal

(the absence of the plow is worse
than being alone with my own shadow)

my back arches with the abundant gifts
of many anxious clumsy friendships

knowing it still must be there

somewhere

that opening

that point between polarities
rare as a moon without motion

Meanwhile

I straddle my lunar throne
feed on my hunger, alone

and I lust,

ravenous.

by Sue D. Nymn
Theatre on the Rock
by Hammer Ed.
Theatre Verite
Have you ever had a job and can't seem to apply it? My role as the theatre critic for High Tide can be most rewarding, and other times excruciatingly frustrating. In the Mayday issue of High Tide, I was fortunate enough to review no fewer than nine play s. (What a critic's dream!). But since then, there has been a definite paucity of live theatre on Bowen. What to do? What to do? I headed out of the Cove, the cultural centre of Bowen, in search for theatre on other parts of the island. A friendly Blow had whispered that on the west side they had Chamber Pot Music. Without another thought, I seized my scribbling pad, stepped into my trusty Nissan and, armed with a cubanette from the Bowmart, headed west.

I didn't reach my destination because I ran out of gas at the S bend, at Ralph's Boat and Truck monument. I made my way into the Cates Hill development, to look for help. And what I discovered was Theatre in the Raw...Theatre Verite.

There before me was a house being built. Doffing my trench coat (the temperature was 30 degrees C.) and chewing my cubanette, I watched with awe the most spectacular theatre event I have ever witnessed. And the play lasted four months. The writer/architect had completed the script. The director/contractor was assembling the cast/crew. The musicians/tradesmen were ready with their instruments/power tools. And the stars/clients, Miss Take and Mister Frugaldays, were paying their inaugural inspection of work in progress. I settled down reverently to enjoy the performance.

Act $100,000
As in any well-constructed script, this act was devoted to laying the foundations of character and plot. It was of true Wagnerian proportions. The big machines, playing a solid base line, poured out their materials to provide a concrete plot. The actors threw their energy into the play with finesse and dedication, never dropping a line. Miss Take and Mister Frugaldays enacted a dance of delight and broke into a joyous Wagnerian duet....Well, as close as Wagner comes to being joyous.

Act $200,000.
This act was devoted to the framing of the plot. Building the character, defining the story, putting on the roof, setting the limitations. And what an act that was! The set unfolded magically in front of me. The musicians and their instruments created a soundscape of unimaginable beauty. Skilsaws, hammers, power drills, screw-guns, melded with the joyous outpourings of the cast to create a brilliant kaleidoscope of flatted fifths and diminishing sevenths that swept me away... When I came back, I knew that I was watching true Theatre Verite. The sets were gorgeous. The costumes and make-up were masterful. I was transported back to medieval times. Leather and iron. The actor's feats on high wood were death-defying and acrobatic. A true Dance Macabre. And in stark contrast to this magnificent backdrop, Miss Take and Mister Frugaldays were thickening the dramatic plot. Their dialogue was clear above the enthusiastic voices of chorus and orchestra. With such dramatic emotion did they vent their anger at each other, that all worked stopped at the site and we we were left with an embarrassed silence.... A brilliant close to this act.

Act $300,000
This act encompassed all the classic nuances of good story telling. It was devoted to enclosing the plot and the enactment of conflict/resolution, (price haggling.) The completion of the siding, shutting off the audience from the inner set was an intriguing piece of stage design. It helped set the limitations of the story. The doors and windows provided those tantalizing question marks. ????? The plot was drawing to a close. The finishing touches were in progress. It was the final movement. The sounds of the musicians were diminished and sporadic. After I heard the mournful ringing of the last hammer striking the final nail head, there was a doomed silence. Out of which arose a plaintive wailing and sobbing, hardly discernible at first, but growing with ever-rising intensity and power. What a performance our lead actors were projecting. I couldn't see them, but I understood their utter defeat. They had gone over budget. The wailing died to a whimper and Miss Take and Mister Frugaldays exited through the unpainted front door. A beaten, dejected pair, standing alone in that awful silence, in front of their dream, kicking stones.

An exquisite moment of true pathos. I was brought to tears. What a closing!
SPLORTZ BEAT
In the High Tide's constant striving for completely unbalanced coverage of all news events we are pleased to introduce our new sportz editor. Karen Petersen, our staff poet and astrologer will now be covering the splortz desk.

Okay, maybe I'm missing something somewhere, but I just don't get it. Here you got this Stanley guy (who also gave us the Park, by the way) encouraging these grown men to chase a little round piece of plastic (and each other) in an ice-filled arena in June (for god's sake) so they can lay claim to a Cup, a chalice, an obvious symbol of the feminine principal.

And how about those innuendoes, eh? He rose to the occasion with his back to the wall. Moved his hand to the top of his stick for a poke check. Didn't come to skate, didn't come at all. Took a mouthful today. A clutch and grab game. Both teams feeling each other out. Gotta go down a couple of games. Missed the pass. Neutral zone entanglement. Hooking. All over him. Pounds it in. Missed the pass. Performance anxiety. Icing (on the cake).

Okay, so it's obvious that puck possession is the name of the game, and what a game it is. But talk about pulling a duffess. Isn't sudden death an awful lot like le petit mort, after all? And isn't the regular season terribly similar to foreplay, when one thinks about it? And even the mention of rebounds is laughable these days. We got a big love/hate co-dependent thing with those hordes in uniform, we do.

But, like, is this really of ultimate importance to the status of Canada in the weltanschauung of the Universe here at the end of another fin de siecle? Seems like it. Divert the masses is really the game's name.
But what's really neat, no doubt, is that the rarely seen hockey announcers all talk like radio guys. Yet, at the same time, hockey camera folk are incredibly brilliant about following that damn puck around. Weird, no? Here you can either watch the game without sound and still know what's happening, or just listen to the game and get the same information. It's so New Age multi-layered, yet so elegantly simplistic, it's scary. Einstein would be proud.

But, know what? I still don't get it.
RESTAURANT REVIEW:
THE BOWMART:
WHERE MEN ARE MEN AND WOMEN AREN'T.

Helen, of course, notwithstanding; an archetype of her own. A woman who can still stand the heat of her own kitchen. And then some. Just the other day I had the great good fortune to be escorted to the Bowmart for coffee. Wow. What an eye-opener.

Talk about brilliant planning, or what. Here this woman has created an incredible coalescence of the impotent proletariat, with self-indulgence as a means to self-knowledge, without introducing either alcohol nor drugs. (Unless, of course, one considers caffeine as a Class A narcotic.)

I mean it's fab! Helen has single-handedly created a restaurant-cum-museum that the Island Historical Society would die for. The intimate late 50's decor combined with an authentic antique charm is incredibly soothing. Ergonomically correct stools at just the right height in ratio to the elevation of the counter allows for brilliant free association, particularly on the topics of weariness and defeat. Kerouac, Cassady and Corso would have creamed their jeans for just the opportunity to visit this temple of revolutionary adventurousness. It is like the Senate of Bowen Island.

And wait! There's more! On an island that is rife with Thai specials, camembert pizzas, and various forms of Bow-Mex cuisine, it is heart hardening to know that one place still specializes in the exotics of white ethnic cuisine. At the Bowmart there is Heinz soup, white toast, egg salad sandwiches and, of course, the world famous Cubanette, a marvel of prepackaged foodstuff. And all at the most reasonable prices in the whole lower East Side of Bowen Island.

A visit to the Bowmart is truly an exquisite dining experience, and I, for one, can't wait to go back. If Helen will let me.
Menses Mind Game
What is the relative hormonally unbalanced state of K if: aq(x)+bg(y)cosC = K
whereas:

a = period of time since last off the Rock
q = number of letters left unanswered
(x) = onset of menopause (in dog years)
b = intended options
g = availability of ready money
(y) = hours since last cigarette
C = desirability/requisite need ratio

Go to it. Just do it. Answer in the next Issue.
Travel
...Salmon...TV...Salmon...TV...Salmon...TV

The rotating sign says it all. Everything you always wanted on your next exotic holiday is available at the HorseShoe Bay Motel. Visit BC's premier destination get-away spot and stay in one of the luxurious suites at this world class inn.

Ideally located, it is close to everything there is to see and do in this fascinating town. You are right next to the cultural center (the ferry terminal), and only minutes away from the Bowen Water Taxi that you were only minutes away from catching! As you meander back from the taxi dock at 12:38 pm, do stop and stare at the giant propeller for at least a second. And ponder where the hell you are going to park your car overnight. Then make your way to the motel where you will get fleeced for big bucks; b ut hey, at least you won't be sleeping outside! And once inside your room you can..well...watch TV! And if it doesn't work you can always stare out of the window, feeling like a Bowen fish out of water, and curse as that stupid sign goes round..and round.. and round.
Classifieds
Turbot Derby. Special events include Spanish Fly Fishing and Pantyhose Driftnetting. Prizes for the smallest fish. (Large catches to be seized and impounded). Tickets available at Chumps Deli.
Drink and Shrink. Our new combo diet/stress syrup will help you shed unwanted pounds AND worries. This special formula is a mixture of Prozac and a leading diet drink and it really works! Become the calmest anorexic on your block!
Wanted. Any kind of reasonably priced accommodation anywhere on the island. I smoke, drink, have a mangy dog, and have lived here for ever. Help me live the impossible dream. Phone HOM-LESS.
Seasickness Cure! Specially constructed glasses will help the migrant flatlander adapt to the coast. The inside of the lens is specially coated with a picture of a prairie horizon. Just slip these on during your next boating trip and feel the nausea slip away! Only $9.47.
Wanted. Large car. Must be roomy, dry and comfortable. Doesn't need to run. Phone HOM-LESS.
Personals
MAOW. Middle Aged Orchard Woman who hasn't been off the island for 15 years is seeking a man with car for mid-life crisis relief in the city. Movies, dining and dancing a must! Phone 947-MAOW.
Lonely intellectually challenged bisexual dwarf amputee (leg) into astrophysics and nature seeks same for companionship, confusing conversation and long hops in the park. Phone Tim 947-9999.
DOGG. Desperate Off-island Go Getter is burned out on commuting. I haven't even seen the daylight on this island in 6 years! Seeking grounded island woman who could show me the lifestyle I moved here for. Lazy beach days, walks in the park, and quiet Sundays is all I want. Phone 947-DOGG.
Unreal Estate
Bowen's Best Buy! 117 square feet of baked dirt for ONLY $339,000.00!!!!
OCP regulations mean you will probably never be able to build anything on it, so we can offer it at this unbelievably low price. This 1/4 acre parcel has great potential for, uh,.. soybeans, corn, or maybe even a chicken could eke out a living here! Perfect for the first time farmer! ACT NOW, this baby will move fast!




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With thanks for a Home away from home to Wimsey Home Page