Saltspring Fall Fair

I have heard a few people talk about the Saturday market on Saltspring Island, so last Saturday I thought I'd give it a visit. I stopped in at the bike shop to chat with Brian about Sunday's cyclocross race, stopped in at Walmart to chat with Amy about the same, then headed towards Crofton. For some reason (daydreaming and no paying attention to where I was going), I took the long way: along Bell McKinnon, right onto Westholm to the little cafe where I turned right again, (almost back on myself) towards Crofton. When I got to Crofton, there were cars queued up to the giant fish statue thing. As I was thinking that the ferry wasn't going to be big enough to fit them all on, I saw a gentleman in a yellow reflective jacket walking along the queue talking to each of the drivers. Apparently he was telling them they wouldn't all fit on, and probably wouldn't for two more ferries. It seemed strange that they wouldn't put more ferries on on Saturdays if the market was that popular. I rode past the cars smiling, glad to be a cyclist and jump to the front. And a cheaper fare too. Why do people drive everywhere?
It still surprises me how cold it gets as soon as the ferry leaves the dock. It was a very sunny and hot day, but I got goose bumps on my arms during the ferry crossing. As the ferry was docking at Vesuvius Bay, I was chatting with the deck hand, who mentioned "fall fair". So I followed the route I'd loaded into my GPS receiver. I was literally half way across the island before the cars off the ferry caught up with me. Ferries work on a FIFO system. Cyclists and pedestrians are first on and first off, and motorists have to wait for them to completely clear the off ramp before they can leave the boat.
Approaching Ganges (say Gan-jeez), I saw a sign "Fall Fair this way". There were cars parked on both sides of the roads for about three kilometers. There was a lot going on at the fair, and it was packed with people. There were rides for the children, live music, livestock competitions (everything from emu to rabbits, swine, sheep, to sheep dog demonstrations and a horse show), a craft show, a small history museum, wool spinning demonstration, baking competition, quilting display, people with little stalls selling stuff and loads of food for sale (lamb burgers, smoothies, "shaved ice", hot dogs, chili, chinese, pot-stickers, doughnuts, fruitsicles, and the Women's Institute had made 600 pies in about 15 types). I spent most of the afternoon wandering around.
At about 3:30 I headed off into the town to see if I could find the market. Apparently they pack up at four, but I was expecting that. Ganges is a very nice "tourist-y" town. I rode around a bit and found a big you-are-here-style map, and thought I'd head north to Fuller Harbour (I think), but saw no mention of it on any sign posts. I took a few wrong turns, and the road ended turning into a gravel track, so I made my way back to the ferry.
I was chatting to a British gentleman on the ferry who was reading "The Song of Hiawatha" (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow), which brought "Incantations" (Mike Oldfield) to my mind, which features an extract at the end of part two. The Song of Hiawatha is set on the shore of a lake in the sun:

By the shores of Gitche Gumee,
By the shining Big-Sea-Water,
At the doorway of the wigwam,
In the early Summer morning,

Hiawatha stood and waited.
All the air was full of freshness,
All the earth was bright and joyous,
And before him, through the sunshine,

Westward toward the neighboring forest
Passed in golden swarms the Ahmo,
Passed the bees, the honey-makers,
Burning, singing in the sunshine.

Bright above him shone the heavens,
Level spread the lake before him;
From its bosom leaped the sturgeon,
Sparkling, flashing in the sunshine;

On its margin the great forest
Stood reflected in the water,
Every tree-top had its shadow,
Motionless beneath the water.

From the brow of Hiawatha
Gone was every trace of sorrow,
As the fog from off the water,
As the mist from off the meadow.

With a smile of joy and gladness,
With a look of exultation,
As of one who in a vision
Sees what is to be, but is not,

Stood and waited Hiawatha.
Toward the sun his hands were lifted,
Both the palms spread out toward it,
And between the parted fingers

Fell the sunshine on his features,
Flecked with light his naked shoulders,
As it falls and flecks an oak-tree
Through the rifted leaves and branches.

O'er the water floating, flying,
Something in the hazy distance,
Something in the mists of morning,
Loomed and lifted from the water,

Now seemed floating, now seemed flying,
Coming nearer, nearer, nearer.
Was it Shingebis the diver?
Or the pelican, the Shada?

Or the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah?
Or the white goose, Waw-be-wana,
With the water dripping, flashing,
From its glossy neck and feathers?

It was neither goose nor diver,
Neither pelican nor heron,
O'er the water floating, flying,
Through the shining mist of morning,

But a birch canoe with paddles,
Rising, sinking on the water,
Dripping, flashing in the sunshine;
And within it came a people

Can it be the sun descending
O'er the level plain of water?
Or the Red Swan floating, flying,
Wounded by the magic arrow,

Staining all the waves with crimson,
With the crimson of its life-blood,
Filling all the air with splendor,
Filling all the air with plumage?

Yes; it is the sun descending,
Sinking down into the water;
All the sky is stained with purple,
All the water flushed with crimson!

No; it is the Red Swan floating,
Diving down beneath the water;
To the sky its wings are lifted,
With its blood the waves are reddened!

Over it the Star of Evening
Melts and trembles through the purple,
Hangs suspended in the twilight,
Walks in silence through the heavens.

It's about missionaries showing up in Indian villages I think. I'm not very good at this poetry stuff. I like the poem though.

Distance: 64.1 km
Time (moving only): 3:04