We all remember our favorite places. You must really love this place if you want to return so badly. Or perhaps you just want to spend some more special time with Doctor Sababa, our Internal Medical consultant at Harbour City Regional Hospital. He would have amused you with his wit and wisdom, and the spontaneous combustion and thrust they generate, often mixed in unequal proportions, as he dances with the devil in the pale moonlight.
Lawrence Winkler is a physician, traveler, and natural philosopher. As a young man, he hitchhiked around the world, for five transformative years. His middle age morphed from medicine to manuscript, passionately documenting one man’s journey through life, in all its beauty and complexity. He lives on Vancouver Island, and the Coromandel Peninsula of New Zealand, with Robyn, tending their gardens and vineyards, and dreams.
Books by Lawrence Winkler
You will love Harbour City. Most visitors to the island drive right through, without taking time to explore its attractions. But you’re not most visitors. You will get to spend some time. Go head. Turn on your radio. That’s BC Bud, 101.3 FM on your Home and Native Band. He will announce your special arrival. And if you catch something more than a salmon, you could be referred to Doctor Sababa, an Internal Medicine consultant at Harbour City Regional, the Sage of the Salish Sea.
The fates of three tormented men, born as many eras apart, come together in a rock cave on the Coromandel Peninsula of New Zealand— Tama of the Ngatei Hei, Billy Green in the days of gold, and Dr. Sababa from across the ocean— seeking revenge, discovering treasure, and searching for redemption. Inside The Bolthole, on a mossy platform, is the skull of a Maori chieftain, the silver button of a British Naval captain, and a greenstone club.
Most remote islands of the imagination conjure up paradise. Japan is an archipelago of puzzlement. Most remote islands of the imagination conjure up paradise. The principle product of Nippon is mystery. Who are these people? How do they view themselves, and others? What makes them behave so well, and so badly? And why is Japan the weirdest place on Earth?
The American West was a notion, not a nation. It was a process, not a place. Late in the summer of 2013, I set out to find the Old West, what it had been, and what had replaced it. The quest for my own wild panorama would turn wheels of fortune into a movable feast of Wagon Days. And if this don’t get your fire started, your wood’s wet.
It lives in the hole where the moon used to be. And for most of the worst part of the northern winter, over the last two decades, so have we.
The real South Pacific was not a Bali Hai musical, but a drama of cannibals and castaways, headhunters and slavers, paradise and perdition.