A bridge too far? Take the boat!

Forget Pfizer, and stick a fork in Merck. Big pharma is over and done, at least in my cook-books. When I'm on the mend it's not Neo-Citran I'm seeking, it's always chicken soup this soul is searching for. Granville Island hosts The Stock Market, my usual go-to soup shop, but rumour has it they make a wicked chicken soup over on Lonsdale Quay, which in my weakened state had all the makings of an epic journey.  Bea bike was off the road for some general care and maintenance, and I needed care and maintenance, too, so I did the dancing bear gig and  straddled the Strida.

See, here's the thing.  The reason so many people die from a broken hip is cause they spend too much time in bed, incapacitated.  Not moving. The flu stopped me in my tracks for a couple of days, but moderate exercise is the best way to stimulate your immune system and clear out congestion. So... even though I was feeling run down, I decided to head through down-town and over to the North Shore to score some gourmet Chicken Soup at  the Quay.

There's a lot of real estate between me and my soup.

You'll find Vancouver's best fish and chips here at the commercial docks on False Creek, but that's not what we're here for.

As much as I needed to move, I also needed the Unabridged version of the journey.  No heavy climbing, no windy heights crossing the Burrard Inlet, at least not this time.  We banned the bridges and took  to the boats. Woman and folding bikes first is the protocol at sea, right?

Think Cool Change :D

We started with the Aquabus from Granville Island to Hornby street. As you can plainly see, it's aqua-bike friendly.

The natives are friendly, too.  Everyone stops to talk to you when you're a dancing bear on a silly bike.

My other bike doesn't like boats and no I don't own a car. I'm sorry. David who?

We splashed around through down-town to Waterfront Station...

where we found ourselves with fifteen minutes on our hands before the next Seabus.

Hacking skills might have helped me sort out the ticket kiosk.

It was pretty quiet, so we had a look around.

Waterfront Station is Vancouver's version of Grand Central Station,
sans the masses and the whispering gallery and the acres of space. You may not be able to hear your sweetheart's marriage proposal from across the hall, but you can definitely hear the fart of a crack-head at forty paces.

Having seen what there is to see, and smelled... er... never mind,
we still had a few minutes to kill.
Nine minutes and twelve seconds, to be precise. 

nine minutes eleven

nine minutes ten

nine minutes nine

nine minutes eight
is it time yet?

Hooooooray!

We're on our way!

Once at the Quay, we headed straight to Soup Meister,
where I enjoyed a bowl of Thai coconut chicken soup.
Mmm.

I made a new friend named Glen Gould, and we talked about everything from soup to nuts.  But that's enough about me.

Then the man and I checked out the market 

just for the halibut,

'cause you know I'm always fruity enough!

Afterwards we went outside to soak in the sights

of this, the life aquatic

till the next Seabus arrived to ferry us away, and home again,

fortified.

It did make for cool change from the usual, where you'll find us humping it over bridges.

One more cruise draws us under the Granville St Bridge, and what do you know?

We're in the hood again!

Feeling under the weather this time of year?

The Quay 

is in taking it all in Strida.

Nourish your body and your mind:

 go for a souper ride

and see what treasures you might find.

                       

*chickens were definitely harmed in the making of this babblelog.