Shelter Point Whisky and Sasquatches

My husband returned from Vancouver this week having had skin cancer removed from his temple at the incredible Moh‘s clinic where he has already been a visitor a few times before. It feels kind of clubby there for him now and he likes to get the conversation flowing amongst the room of newbies. Poor guy removed his bandage the next day and found a patchwork of about 50 stitches. So today I suggested we do something fun to take his mind off his latest wound. We decided to drive up the highway to the Shelter Point Whisky Distillery.

Well – what a timely surprise! Tomorrow, having aged their thousand casks the legally required 3 years and 1 day, they can bottle their first batch of single malt. Can’t wait to try it. Brian, our tour guide, ran us through the process of whisky production and explained that until there is whisky to taste, there would be Vodka – their own Still Master triple distilled Vodka, in a variety of flavours. Vodka goes from the tank to the bottle and doesn’t require the subtle addition of cask flavours.

Not really being vodka drinkers it is ironic that we now have a litre bottle in our liquor cupboard. Still Master is distilled in copper pots hand made in Scotland from barley grown in the sea breezy farm land of Vancouver Island. We chose the vodka that hasn’t been infused with one of the delicious but subtle flavours they offer but the bare version which has it’s own barley imparted whisky flavour. We did buy a bottle of the chocolate infused for a gift too.

On the drive home I was thinking about how Jerry is full of conversational surprises.  A couple of weeks back, there was an item on TV about an island near Tofino and he says, “that’s where Alan and that other guy came across the Sasquatch nest.” Now I have been married to him for 32 years and with him for a couple of years before that and I don’t ever remember him mentioning a Sasquatch nest which is something I’m sure I would have remembered. And he wasn’t kidding – apparently it was pushed down underbrush in a circle with a diameter of about 10-12 feet and stunk unbelievably. And yes, there was excrement and fur that bore no resemblance to that of a bear. I know it was the seventies and the wild west but he’s sticking to the story and don’t even ask about the goat legged man of Stubbs Island.

I was thinking of how when he leaves to go anywhere, I automatically expect him to return at least once more for the items which he has forgotten. My husband  might come back for his phone, sunglasses, the required hat, paperwork, his list – forgetting these items or what I just told him is quite usual. But ask him to remember a joke he was told in grade 4 and there it is, punch line perfect. Ask him about one of Sherlock Holmes’ cases and he probably has an accurate answer. Ask him almost any random question that doesn’t have any bearing on our day to day lives and he ferrets out the answer from his subterranean mind vault with great alacrity.  Like the unexpected delight in a local vodka, he’s great at parties. Long may the Moh’s clinic keep him cancer free.

 

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