Generally, we expect to dine out regularly when we’re on vacation. On cycling holidays, that’s a necessity because we stay in hotels, where we can’t cook (besides, who wants to cook after cycling for hours?) Because of the pandemic, last year we opted for a log cabin with a fully equipped kitchen on Salt Spring, but had our dinners out about half the time anyway.
When I first researched Hornby dining options in late summer, I found quite a few. I knew that going in October might reduce that number somewhat, so I checked again the week before we left (part of my just-in-time planning). The more than half a dozen options I’d seen earlier had been whittled down for various reasons (renovations, staff shortages, seasonal openings only), but there still seemed to be at least four.
However, when we arrived, most of those had evaporated. One place was closed for October, despite their website still claiming regular opening hours. Another was just closed, no reason given, no reopening date provided (also contradicted by their website). I made reservations for Wednesday dinner at the Seabreeze Lodge restaurant (where our cottage was; open for dinner Wednesdays and Saturdays only), and hoped to have one or two more meals out elsewhere (even just lunches out if the whole island shut early).
In the end, our only other option was food truck pizza with very limited lunchtime hours and outdoor seating in the rain only. Their gluten-free option was a 10-inch rice tortilla, not quite Mr. Fluffster’s (or my) idea of pizza heaven, and they only provided entire pizzas, not slices, so that would yield far more pizza than we wanted/needed. So much for fine (or indeed any) dining out.
The day we arrived, we stopped at the Co-op, intending to pick up some groceries for dinner and the next day’s breakfast. Who knew they’d decide to close early on Thanksgiving, without any notice? We had with us a packet of pasta, a can of beans, a small quantity of pesto, peanut butter, teabags, instant coffee, one banana, and a few energy bars. We wouldn’t have starved, but it wasn’t quite what we’d envisioned for our first evening, and would have made rather a sparse breakfast (with no milk for coffee/tea!) And we’d had no lunch that day, as the place we’d planned to stop at on Denman Island had also opted to close for Thanksgiving. You’d think it was a holiday or something.
We almost gave up in despair, but decided to peek into the Co-op Gas Bar store, just in case. Luckily for us, it was surprisingly well stocked, so we snagged milk, eggs, bacon, and blueberry Greek yogurt. A veritable feast!
Dinner was pasta with pesto while contemplating the view from our cottage window (below left). The next day, after rainclouds and wind rolled in, that same view would be very different (below right).
The Co-op, when open the next day, was well stocked to meet the survival needs of one vegetarian and one gluten-free diner, so all was not lost, even though we had to battle rain and wind to get there (our hike for the first full day, followed by getting nearly blown off the rocky beach near our cottage). We ate pasta four times that week. We like the stuff, but once, maybe twice a week is our usual quota.
The photo at the top of this post was taken in Parksville, where we stopped for lunch on our return trip. I had a bit of a running joke with colleagues about spending my retirement dining out and drinking mimosas, so I couldn’t resist when I found them on the menu. But this is the first one I’ve had since August (and yes, I have been actively looking for them). I guess this means I really am retired now.
Next time we go on a cottage vacation, I’m delegating the meal planning to Mr. Fluffster. He’s better at circumventing unpleasant surprises.
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