What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. A beach by any other name would be a swim waiting to happen. Henderson Beach, across from Henderson Road at the end of Beach Avenue, is by some referred to as Park Beach. The one at the end of Park Avenue is known as Varcoe Beach, after either Kay or Gwen Varcoe (depending who you ask). Flume Beach at the bottom of Flume Road, officially known as the Roberts Creek Provincial Park Picnic Area, is also Beeman’s Beach and of course Roberts Creek Beach will always be Sandy Beach to many.
If you don’t know where Hall Road is you may have trouble getting in or out of town and if you don’t know where the Peninsula Hotel is/was, then I have an idea how new to the coast you are. Not that it’s a bad thing to be new here, it gives people a chance to give you a history lesson or two. How will you know where you are going if you don’t know where you have been?
Motorcycle season is in full swing and, although you should be careful on the roads year-round, it is especially important to keep your eyes open for motorbikes. Being small, nimble and quick, they sometimes elude our gaze from the comfort of our metal box. There are a few things that make bikes dangerous, but number one is car drivers who didn’t see the bike. The lack of enclosure puts the rider in the environment they ride through; every bump in the road and every smell is experienced firsthand, unfiltered by the cage we sit in as we rumble effortlessly down the highway. This same lack of protection will give a car the distinct advantage in any encounter.
I ride, when I have the time. I climb aboard my turquoise and black Honda Shadow 1100 when I get the hankering for some Oak Tree Market pepperoni (if the elk is in, save some for me!). I ride like everyone on the road is trying to kill me, because they can. It keeps me safe. The ride through Middle Point is a tonic for my busy mind, as I can do nothing but focus on the task at hand, as the machine beneath me reacts to my very thoughts to navigate the swirls leading to Madeira Park. One of my biggest pet peeves is tailgaters. I can stop pretty quick if I need to, can you? I tend to use the whole lane when I ride, avoiding potholes and cedar bark chunks, and once had another biker roar past me in my lane, I cannot repeat most of the language I used for him, jackarse is about the kindest thing I said. Even in the dog days of summer, it’s steel toe boots and leather to protect my hands and arms – dress for the slide, not just for the ride.
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