Magic. At a last moment we decided to take our trailer to the woods for a few days. What magic led me and my lense to be at exactly this moment in exactly this place. This beauty had flown thousands of miles to be precisely here for me. WOW!
Tuesday, May 5th. Another brilliant sunrise in a cloudless Raincoast sky. There is not even one shower forecast ahead but maybe we’ll have one of those rainy summers. There are folks actually whining about the heat already. They’re probably the same ones who go south for a little of this same weather in winter. And, it’s not hot; temperatures are only in the mid-thirties! We do have forest fires already.
Fly me to the sun. A highway in the sky at sunrise.In the pink. The glories of spring, which include sinus tortures, are a surreal affirmation of life.
At the head of our driveway, where it conjoin’s the neighbour’s, sits a large, ugly cast concrete planter guarding the straggling hedge between the properties. I hate it but it belongs to the reclusive lonley soul next door and I want to respect her. Although not only an eyesore, it is a hazard to navigation and lurks ready to savage any vehicle which gets too near. It has severely gnawed my front bumper.
Eyes wide shut.
Yesterday as we were heading out my wife Jill said, “You’re getting awfully close to the urn.” I replied, “Yeah well, we both are!” And so, with laughter, we launched ourselves back out onto the road of life. As another dawn spreads I realize how true it is. Tick Tock.
Tuesday, May19th. There’s half the month gone by. Tinkering this, tinkering that, times flies whether you’re having fun or not. Spring so far has been cool and clear and very dry. There have been a few days of summer-like warmth but nothing to match the “Hot” predictions of the weather girl in the tight dress. We finally broke out the old travel trailer just to change our perspective, and partly due to the outrageous price of fuel, decided to travel briefly to a place less than an hour from home. What a dream to find an overlooked location right under our noses that meets most of our expectations. Just Google up “Nanaimo Lakes Camping” if you’re interested. No explosions, just simple in the trees escape. And best of all, few people. Enough said, the photos can do the rest.
With over a century of logging these lakes still offer a recreational beauty for folks. Second-growth timber is now being harvested. Despite one’s environmental persuasions the logger’s skill and tenacity have to be admired. Without their efforts there would be no access for the public.Nanaimo River, between First and Second lakes. This river is so clean that it hosts freshwater clams, trout, crayfish and other marine delights.
Roughing it. There was a time when if it rained a tarp and an overturned canoe provided my comfort. How the mighty are fallen!Writing this blog.No bugs. A breeze from the lake kept them away.The way it could be; everywhere. This is how underbrush should be cleared in the proximity of people. With a huge surplus of homeless folks needing a meaningful purpose in life and a dignified way of earning themselves a living, an affordable solution to a few social and environmental issues is obvious. We have an endless supply of second-growth timber to be thinned and fire-suppressed. It is not an ultimate answer but we have to start thinking of possibilities instead of excuses.Spring once more. At a higher elevation the season lags and trilliums still add their final glory in the woods.
Strange. I have never seen these fungi before and am eager to learn more about them.
There is a campfire ban in effect with which I heartily agree. “Cityots” the campground caretaker said. I concure. Most folks have no bush sense at all and on an afternoon like this, where the wind screams across the lake and into the trees, there’d soon be a nasty situation with an explosive inferno racing up the mountain. I’m content to let the wind whistle clean and free through the swaying timber. I’ve heard the now-too-rare chatter of a red squirrel, the cries of loons and geese, the sonorous duet of two barred owls. There has not been one siren. Funny what you can get used to!
For PEGGY. This image appeared outside my window just as I sat down to post this blog. Peggy left this world a few days ago at the age of 97. I never knew her as well as I’d have liked. She was the mom of a man who has been a friend of mine for over 44 years. I can honestly say that she never had a quarrel with anyone and raised some mighty fine kids. She was cherished by all who knew her. Fair winds dear soul.Does the Monarch Butterfly know its own beauty?
What’s warmer and fuzzier than a child playing with a dog, especially when it’s a dog who usually doesn’t like children. This moment made my day.
Nearly everybody loves a parade. Especially if it is their own. Yesterday while driving home from Nanaimo the highway was clogged. Our sleepy little island has become what I call “Surrey West.” There is every style of driving at play and how our roads are not heaped with bodies daily is indeed a miracle. The passing lane was backed up yesterday although everyone was hurtling along well above the speed limit. There was no room for error.
At the head of that zooming parade was a pickup truck with Washington license plates pulling a very large Grady White powerboat on a trailer. It had two 300hp outboards hanging on the transom. A thirty foot boat with 600 horsepower is insanity! Nevertheless what what I really noted was the huge American flag flapping from the boat’s rigging as the T-Rump undergraduate declared his self-absorbed arrogance. When I described this aberration to my wife she declared it an act of aggression. I think she is right. It seemed an American solution was in order, one which involves several machine guns. Do NOT come into my country to piss on my head. This Canadian is not inclined to be warm and fuzzy toward such an affront; eh! Maybe we should build a wall!
It’s that time of the year again. The annual salmon spawn is on.The elk are getting into the mood. The incumbent patriarch is chasing off an usurper. His defeated rump is dissappearing into the brush on the left.
One of the issues on our national plate these days is to continue the plan to purchase a load of several F35s from the US. At this summer’s Abbotsford Air Show an F35 was part of the spectacle. A news story had an expert describing the wonders of this aircraft and how it was “The most technically advanced fighter aircraft ever.” The flight demonstration was cancelled at mid-point due to “technical difficulties.” Say no more. Through my lifetime of being around things mechanical, the ultimate sophistication is always about simplification. A friend recently described problems with his electronic kitchen faucet. He loved the device but parts and support were in Toronto. I suggested a simple turn-the-knob tap from the local hardware store. Yeah but…
In a documentary about a village in rural Russia running water there involved a well with a windlass and a bucket on a rope. The water was murky. You run home with a pail in each hand. Everyone gathered around the well waiting to crank up their daily water declared Russia to be the best country in the world. Da! Perspectives. Here, we’ve had a rainy twenty-four hours. The earth slurped it up greedily. But now it is early autumn, all teetering on that one day of desperately needed moisture. Hopefully a majority of gringos are going back into the woodwork as we grab a few days of residual summer.
The sad state of our island railroad. We desperately need it back in service. There is little hope apparently.The ding dong is done.
In the interior, Indian Summer comes after a first frost. Here it is after that first serious day of rain. The weather at the moment is perfect so… we know that only fools and newcomers predict the weather. Frankly those girls on TV wearing tight skirts can go to hell with their atmospheric rivers and predictions with newly invented words. I am an old-school pilot and mariner. I can still out-predict them usually with an eye on the barometer and the sky; and know that I’m no smarter than I look! Just get in tune with the home planet.
Oh Canada! Should we build a wall?
Last week we went to a place called Saratoga Beach Resort. It is halfway between Courtenay and Campbell River. It looks out across broad white sands to Mittlenatch Island, Desolation Sound and the coastal mountains beyond. We have been driving past this place for forty years and wonder how we have missed it. The RV park is small and patronized by quiet and friendly people. The beach is stunning with spectacular views of the the mainland coast and the rugged mountains inland. I know that part of the coast intimately and take great comfort in seeing old familiar haunts even if from ashore.
A view to mainland Canada and Desolation Sound.Confrontation.In the bosses footprints.Sunup before coffee.Canned people.Solitude and salmon.
On the drive up from Ladysmith it was once again obvious that our old yellow pickup truck was a little too light for towing our trailer. While doing a quick search online to see what decent used trucks were available, and affordable, (virtually none) I found one at a used car lot only two miles away. Go figure! We went for a look. All I’ll say is that this is the story of a twenty-two thousand dollar camping trip. Any other similar used truck was easily twice the price. Jill has done an amazing job of shaking our scrawny money shrubs and she gleaned what we needed. We’ve just bought a house and the ribs on the piggy bank are showing. My imagination is beggared at what folks are paying for used vehicles with very high mileage. New vehicle prices, for me, are incomprehensible. How the hell do people survive while supporting such high prices? We have an enviable lifestyle and nobody is shooting at us, yet, but we seem determined to live within a growing hairball of need and greed.
Honest Harold’s clean used cars.Das Voody. Locals line up for burgers cooked in the old bus.A Dodgy truck, a 1960 D100. The Dodge I bought is 68 years newer. It is very nice but I think I’d rather have the old one. Despite the rust-hole, it is in amazing condition.
At this time of year many folks are able to flaunt a well-bronzed body. However every year one of the signs of summer’s end is men in shorts with a glaring fluorescent pair of shanks. Where they’ve been since spring, with their legs hidden away, is anyone’s guess but Geez Louise! They sure stand out. It is an annual phenomenon which perhaps precludes the winter shorts gang who are out in several feet of snow with glowing red legs. There are also other folks already in wool toques and parkas which leaves me wondering at the togs they’ll sport come winter. It is a cute wee conundrum to have along with taking for granted having food, clean water, hospitals and other infrastructures for all who want them. God bless us every one.
On a final note of how we are so blessed here I sat yesterday on a bench beside the Nanaimo River. The dogs and I were out for our daily walk. The water was crystal clear. I soon noticed that I could see spawning salmon swimming up in mid-stream. I am always drawn to think of their incredible journey, out into mid-Pacific and then back to exactly the same place they were spawned. To have fish and a clean river full of fresh water is an abundance we take for granted. Autumn arrives and the cycle of life continues.
Is this a sign of autumn or did a passing dog leave a pee mail?
“When you get to the end of your rope, there’s often a little more rope.” anon
More rain tonight. Looking out from my desk as I post this blog.
