The Rock Climber
Lake Beauchene
Loon Cabin
Monday, December 8, 2008
LA RESERVE BEAUCHENE
8th – 16th October LA RESERVE BEAUCHENE
On Wednesday 8th October we met up with an ex-colleague of Eric’s who works in the North Bay office of the Ministry of Transportation, for lunch at a Polish deli called Christina’s.
He had generously agreed to allow us to leave our trailer in his driveway for the next week. However in the end, due to the fact this would leave it too exposed to passers-by, we decided to leave it in the campground where we had just spent 2 nights, for a nominal fee.
From the restaurant we headed to our previously agreed upon rendezvous, a grocery store, to meet up with our dear walking/running buddies from London, Don and Aggie. With no trouble at all we found their van and parked right beside it. It wasn’t long before we saw them with their 3year old grandson Amon in hand coming out of the store, clutching good things for little boys to eat in the car.
Don and Aggie had invited us to check out their new venture and spend a week with them in their cabin at La Reserve Beauchene. We followed them northwest to Temiscaming, a small Pulp and Paper Mill town just across the Quebec border and on the upper Ottawa River. From there we travelled for about another hour along a rough logging road, thankful not to be towing, and into the beautiful wilds of Beauchene.
“La Réserve Beauchêne is a magnificent, exclusive 205.7 square kilometre (over 50,000 acres) territory in the high hills of Quebec. The province of Ontario can be seen across the beautiful valley of the Ottawa River. La Réserve Beauchêne contains over 3 dozen lakes each of which offers some of the best fishing in Canada and there are many other lakes in the territory waiting to be explored.”
As we chatted to Don and Aggie we came to understand this is a fish camp which functions as a partnership. They had recently bought into the partnership and in that sense they own one of the cabins, Loon Cabin, and have access to all the benefits the partnership brings. It is also open to the public, a place where people can rent a cabin or a more remote outpost camp, or stay in the lodge. This is of great appeal to those who love to fish or are looking for some peace and quiet in a beautiful setting.
We spent 6 thoroughly enjoyable days with them. The weather was sunny and comfortingly warm. Aggie gave us guided tours of the other cabins and Don took us on a couple of exploratory boat rides on the large Beauchene Lake. We relaxed in the glorious surroundings, went for walks through trees in their fall best and beside lakes, or cozyed up to a log fire and chatted or read.
We enjoyed the company of little Amon who gloried in the constant attention of 4 adults. He soon gained the skill and confidence to climb up and over rocks under the guidance of Eric and Don and willingly succumbed to the bedtime songs and stories with Nana Aggie.
Aggie and Don’s daughter and son and daughter-in-law (parents of Amon) joined us for the long Thanksgiving weekend. Dinner was held in the large dining room of the lodge and we were able to meet some of the other partners.
After the long weekend Amon went home with mom and dad and we stayed on for a couple more days.
It was such a treat to have one final adventure at the end of our journey.
From there we headed back to North Bay to pick up the trailer and drive the last piece south, spending one night in the Cookstown area, before arriving in Nairn at about 1.30 on October 16th.
We had been away exactly 18 weeks and were welcomed home with great purring and cuddles by a healthy happy Nootka.
How fortunate we have been to have such a trip, knowing that our home and cat were held in the safe hands of Annette, Margaret, George, Max and Sam.
On Wednesday 8th October we met up with an ex-colleague of Eric’s who works in the North Bay office of the Ministry of Transportation, for lunch at a Polish deli called Christina’s.
He had generously agreed to allow us to leave our trailer in his driveway for the next week. However in the end, due to the fact this would leave it too exposed to passers-by, we decided to leave it in the campground where we had just spent 2 nights, for a nominal fee.
From the restaurant we headed to our previously agreed upon rendezvous, a grocery store, to meet up with our dear walking/running buddies from London, Don and Aggie. With no trouble at all we found their van and parked right beside it. It wasn’t long before we saw them with their 3year old grandson Amon in hand coming out of the store, clutching good things for little boys to eat in the car.
Don and Aggie had invited us to check out their new venture and spend a week with them in their cabin at La Reserve Beauchene. We followed them northwest to Temiscaming, a small Pulp and Paper Mill town just across the Quebec border and on the upper Ottawa River. From there we travelled for about another hour along a rough logging road, thankful not to be towing, and into the beautiful wilds of Beauchene.
“La Réserve Beauchêne is a magnificent, exclusive 205.7 square kilometre (over 50,000 acres) territory in the high hills of Quebec. The province of Ontario can be seen across the beautiful valley of the Ottawa River. La Réserve Beauchêne contains over 3 dozen lakes each of which offers some of the best fishing in Canada and there are many other lakes in the territory waiting to be explored.”
As we chatted to Don and Aggie we came to understand this is a fish camp which functions as a partnership. They had recently bought into the partnership and in that sense they own one of the cabins, Loon Cabin, and have access to all the benefits the partnership brings. It is also open to the public, a place where people can rent a cabin or a more remote outpost camp, or stay in the lodge. This is of great appeal to those who love to fish or are looking for some peace and quiet in a beautiful setting.
We spent 6 thoroughly enjoyable days with them. The weather was sunny and comfortingly warm. Aggie gave us guided tours of the other cabins and Don took us on a couple of exploratory boat rides on the large Beauchene Lake. We relaxed in the glorious surroundings, went for walks through trees in their fall best and beside lakes, or cozyed up to a log fire and chatted or read.
We enjoyed the company of little Amon who gloried in the constant attention of 4 adults. He soon gained the skill and confidence to climb up and over rocks under the guidance of Eric and Don and willingly succumbed to the bedtime songs and stories with Nana Aggie.
Aggie and Don’s daughter and son and daughter-in-law (parents of Amon) joined us for the long Thanksgiving weekend. Dinner was held in the large dining room of the lodge and we were able to meet some of the other partners.
After the long weekend Amon went home with mom and dad and we stayed on for a couple more days.
It was such a treat to have one final adventure at the end of our journey.
From there we headed back to North Bay to pick up the trailer and drive the last piece south, spending one night in the Cookstown area, before arriving in Nairn at about 1.30 on October 16th.
We had been away exactly 18 weeks and were welcomed home with great purring and cuddles by a healthy happy Nootka.
How fortunate we have been to have such a trip, knowing that our home and cat were held in the safe hands of Annette, Margaret, George, Max and Sam.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
VIA SUDBURY TO NORTH BAY
6th – 8th October VIA SUDBURY TO NORTH BAY
The 300 km drive from Sault Ste. Marie to Sudbury follows the direction of the north shore of Lake Huron. We by-passed Sudbury and stopped for a late lunch at a rest stop on its eastern edge.
I remember the first time I visited Sudbury in about 1983. We’d been on a camping trip to Manitoulin Island and were spending a few days by a lake in this area before heading home. All the surrounding hills were startlingly and grimly barren, simply bare rock and gravel, a so-called moonscape.
After the discovery of a rich vein of nickel copper ore in the late 1800’s 2 mining companies, Inco Ltd. and Falconbridge Ltd., processed and treated its ores in the area and built 3 smelter sites. In the early days an apparent total lack of awareness meant that the very toxic sulphur dioxide gas emissions were spewing straight out into the environment around. The result was the utter devastation of all the natural vegetation over a vast area, affecting places as far away as Killarney where the lakes became dead. Not to mention the affect it had on people’s lungs!
Since the early 1980’s, both companies have made great technological changes and 3 very tall smokestacks with scrubbers were built, which still spew, but thankfully the fumes aren’t as hazardous. Volunteer groups have worked very hard over the last 2 decades treating the extremely acid soil with lime and planting literally millions of trees on the surrounding hills
“Perhaps the best indication of our community's efforts to change its image and mend its landscape is the successful regeneration of trees and plant life in the area. This is due to a concentrated effort at land reclamation that began in the late seventies and which has earned the community worldwide recognition for its environmental efforts.”
At the rest area where we stopped this time I was able to follow a short 1km guided walk to a series of lookouts. From these vantage points it was quite extraordinary to see the affects of the continuing restoration work, with some hills further along in the process than others. There is a plaque now marking the planting of the 4 millionth tree planted in 2004.
After another 150 km directly east we reached North Bay.
North Bay, about 70km from the Quebec border, lies between Lake Nippissing and Trout Lake so there are plenty of options for lakeside property and opportunities for walking, biking and hiking in the good weather. Our campground, Champlain Park, wasn’t far from the larger expanse of water, Lake Nippissing, and a short walk from a small beach. On a bitingly damp, gusty, cold evening we took the stroll and were treated to a beautiful sunset, before promptly retreating to the cosy warmth of our trailer.
The next day we went in search of the Mattawa River Provincial Park.
What we discovered was that the smaller Samuel de Champlain Provincial Park lies inside the long narrow Mattawa River Provincial Park, “a swath of spectacular scenery encompassing the river and the lakes and much of the valley along its path.”
“Stretching between North Bay and the Town of Mattawa on the Quebec border is the historic waterway of the Mattawa River. This was once an important route for voyageurs, trappers and loggers -- and before them for the aboriginals who began inhabiting the region more than 6000 years ago. In 1970, the Ontario government protected a substantial portion of the river -- from the eastern end of Trout Lake downstream to Samuel de Champlain Provincial Park -- by designating it the first waterway park in Ontario. In 1988, the federal government recognized the Mattawa's national historic significance by naming it a Canadian Heritage River.”
It was the Samuel de Champlain park that we visited that day, spending a couple of hours in their Visitor’s Centre trying to absorb some of the long and fascinating history this heritage river in the time we had.
The 300 km drive from Sault Ste. Marie to Sudbury follows the direction of the north shore of Lake Huron. We by-passed Sudbury and stopped for a late lunch at a rest stop on its eastern edge.
I remember the first time I visited Sudbury in about 1983. We’d been on a camping trip to Manitoulin Island and were spending a few days by a lake in this area before heading home. All the surrounding hills were startlingly and grimly barren, simply bare rock and gravel, a so-called moonscape.
After the discovery of a rich vein of nickel copper ore in the late 1800’s 2 mining companies, Inco Ltd. and Falconbridge Ltd., processed and treated its ores in the area and built 3 smelter sites. In the early days an apparent total lack of awareness meant that the very toxic sulphur dioxide gas emissions were spewing straight out into the environment around. The result was the utter devastation of all the natural vegetation over a vast area, affecting places as far away as Killarney where the lakes became dead. Not to mention the affect it had on people’s lungs!
Since the early 1980’s, both companies have made great technological changes and 3 very tall smokestacks with scrubbers were built, which still spew, but thankfully the fumes aren’t as hazardous. Volunteer groups have worked very hard over the last 2 decades treating the extremely acid soil with lime and planting literally millions of trees on the surrounding hills
“Perhaps the best indication of our community's efforts to change its image and mend its landscape is the successful regeneration of trees and plant life in the area. This is due to a concentrated effort at land reclamation that began in the late seventies and which has earned the community worldwide recognition for its environmental efforts.”
At the rest area where we stopped this time I was able to follow a short 1km guided walk to a series of lookouts. From these vantage points it was quite extraordinary to see the affects of the continuing restoration work, with some hills further along in the process than others. There is a plaque now marking the planting of the 4 millionth tree planted in 2004.
After another 150 km directly east we reached North Bay.
North Bay, about 70km from the Quebec border, lies between Lake Nippissing and Trout Lake so there are plenty of options for lakeside property and opportunities for walking, biking and hiking in the good weather. Our campground, Champlain Park, wasn’t far from the larger expanse of water, Lake Nippissing, and a short walk from a small beach. On a bitingly damp, gusty, cold evening we took the stroll and were treated to a beautiful sunset, before promptly retreating to the cosy warmth of our trailer.
The next day we went in search of the Mattawa River Provincial Park.
What we discovered was that the smaller Samuel de Champlain Provincial Park lies inside the long narrow Mattawa River Provincial Park, “a swath of spectacular scenery encompassing the river and the lakes and much of the valley along its path.”
“Stretching between North Bay and the Town of Mattawa on the Quebec border is the historic waterway of the Mattawa River. This was once an important route for voyageurs, trappers and loggers -- and before them for the aboriginals who began inhabiting the region more than 6000 years ago. In 1970, the Ontario government protected a substantial portion of the river -- from the eastern end of Trout Lake downstream to Samuel de Champlain Provincial Park -- by designating it the first waterway park in Ontario. In 1988, the federal government recognized the Mattawa's national historic significance by naming it a Canadian Heritage River.”
It was the Samuel de Champlain park that we visited that day, spending a couple of hours in their Visitor’s Centre trying to absorb some of the long and fascinating history this heritage river in the time we had.
SAULT STE. MARIE & THE AGAWA CANYON
3rd - 5th October SAULT STE. MARIE & THE AGAWA CANYON
A couple of weeks before arriving in the city of Sault Ste. Marie we had booked our seats on the Agawa Canyon Tour Train, “a one day rail excursion into the Canadian Wilderness”. This was something Eric had had in his bonnet for us to do, something he’d wanted to do for a while, having been to this part of the Ontario several times before.
Sault Ste. Marie lies more or less on the south east point of Lake Superior, and across the St. Mary’s River from Michigan’s own Sault Ste. Marie. The word sault, I’ve discovered means waterfalls or rapids.
The tour train, which leaves from this city, chugs its way along at 35 mph, 114 miles northwards, back in the direction we had just come, towards and east of the Provincial Park, to the Agawa Canyon. Here in this broad canyon the Agawa River flows by on its way down to Agawa Bay, where we had been camping, and where it enters the lake.
Our timing couldn’t have been better, the colours promised to be spectacular. When we arrived at the station at 7am on Saturday morning, there were about 13 coaches, all full to overflowing, with people ready to ooh and aah at the famous fall colours deep in the Northern Ontario wilderness.
It was indeed a wondrous sight. The day alternated between sunny and cloudy and the countryside was ablaze with at times shimmering at times brilliant shades of reds, orange, yellows and greens. The trip one way takes 4 hours and we sat and simply soaked in the glorious scenery. The train crossed over deep river valleys on “towering trestles, alongside pristine northern lakes and rivers, and through the awesome granite rock formations and mixed forests of the Canadian Shield.”
No wonder the much-loved Canadian landscape artists, members of The Group Of Seven, were drawn to this area.
My siblings were on my mind that day and I thought, “Wow, they would just love this, I would love to show them this, I wish they were here enjoying this with us”.
As we neared our destination, the long train made its gradual winding descent, down 500 feet to the Canyon floor. Here we disembarked and had 2 hours to explore and have a picnic lunch. Glad to be able to move our legs after 4 hours of sitting, we walked the several trails to waterfalls and viewpoints. The climb to one lookout platform is a mighty strenuous cardiovascular workout, 250 feet above the tracks. Realizing that there were several hundred other people that we would need to negotiate space with, Eric and I rallied our best hiking style and gunned it to the top, (with no pushing or shoving), so that we could get a good view before the hoards arrived. I thought my lungs were going to explode but it was well worth it, with pictures to prove it.
The return trip was a reverse view of the marmalade spectacle though I have to confess to the occasional resting of eyelids.
We were back at the station again at 6pm.
After spending the weekend in Sault Ste. Marie, we left for North Bay on Monday 6th October. Our journey was achingly close to its end but there was one more adventure we were looking forward to. We had a couple of days to spend in North Bay before we were to keep a rendezvous at the local grocery store on Wednesday the 8th.
A couple of weeks before arriving in the city of Sault Ste. Marie we had booked our seats on the Agawa Canyon Tour Train, “a one day rail excursion into the Canadian Wilderness”. This was something Eric had had in his bonnet for us to do, something he’d wanted to do for a while, having been to this part of the Ontario several times before.
Sault Ste. Marie lies more or less on the south east point of Lake Superior, and across the St. Mary’s River from Michigan’s own Sault Ste. Marie. The word sault, I’ve discovered means waterfalls or rapids.
The tour train, which leaves from this city, chugs its way along at 35 mph, 114 miles northwards, back in the direction we had just come, towards and east of the Provincial Park, to the Agawa Canyon. Here in this broad canyon the Agawa River flows by on its way down to Agawa Bay, where we had been camping, and where it enters the lake.
Our timing couldn’t have been better, the colours promised to be spectacular. When we arrived at the station at 7am on Saturday morning, there were about 13 coaches, all full to overflowing, with people ready to ooh and aah at the famous fall colours deep in the Northern Ontario wilderness.
It was indeed a wondrous sight. The day alternated between sunny and cloudy and the countryside was ablaze with at times shimmering at times brilliant shades of reds, orange, yellows and greens. The trip one way takes 4 hours and we sat and simply soaked in the glorious scenery. The train crossed over deep river valleys on “towering trestles, alongside pristine northern lakes and rivers, and through the awesome granite rock formations and mixed forests of the Canadian Shield.”
No wonder the much-loved Canadian landscape artists, members of The Group Of Seven, were drawn to this area.
My siblings were on my mind that day and I thought, “Wow, they would just love this, I would love to show them this, I wish they were here enjoying this with us”.
As we neared our destination, the long train made its gradual winding descent, down 500 feet to the Canyon floor. Here we disembarked and had 2 hours to explore and have a picnic lunch. Glad to be able to move our legs after 4 hours of sitting, we walked the several trails to waterfalls and viewpoints. The climb to one lookout platform is a mighty strenuous cardiovascular workout, 250 feet above the tracks. Realizing that there were several hundred other people that we would need to negotiate space with, Eric and I rallied our best hiking style and gunned it to the top, (with no pushing or shoving), so that we could get a good view before the hoards arrived. I thought my lungs were going to explode but it was well worth it, with pictures to prove it.
The return trip was a reverse view of the marmalade spectacle though I have to confess to the occasional resting of eyelids.
We were back at the station again at 6pm.
After spending the weekend in Sault Ste. Marie, we left for North Bay on Monday 6th October. Our journey was achingly close to its end but there was one more adventure we were looking forward to. We had a couple of days to spend in North Bay before we were to keep a rendezvous at the local grocery store on Wednesday the 8th.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
THE NORTH SHORE & LAKE SUPERIOR PROVINCIAL PARK
THE NORTH SHORE & LAKE SUPERIOR PROVINCIAL PARK
30th September – 3 October
The day we set off from Thunder Bay was a blustery, drizzly fall day, the greens and yellows and the occasional dabs of orange felt damp and muted. Ravens were plentiful and vocal, disturbed, perhaps, by the circling turkey vultures.
After about 100 kms we drove through the remarkable Red Rock area, the distinctly red cliffs rising steeply, edged by the greens and yellows above and below.
We were treated to many breath-taking views of the lake as the highway, at times, gouged its way, the road-cuts exposing the red granite of the Canadian Shield, and wound along the shoreline.
Stopping for lunch at the Rainbow Falls Provincial Park, we donned our hats, gloves and jackets to make the short walk to the falls. Brrrr!
By late afternoon we reached Shreiber where we braved the weather and took a walk around the sleepy town, before hunkering down for the night in the empty campground.
The first of October heralded promises of possible flurries later in the day. Not wanting to have to contend with snow while towing a trailer, the plan for that day became to aim for somewhere close to Sault Sainte Marie, still about 500 km away. From Shreiber the road follows the curves of the shoreline for another 100 km or so before arcing inland east and then south, meeting the lake again at Wawa, thus cutting off a large square nose that extends into the lake.
Once south of Wawa we entered Lake Superior Provincial Park and here we began to see the glorious oranges and reds of the maples along with the yellows of the aspens and birches. There were periodic breaks in the clouds by afternoon and the patchy sunlight added lustre to the marmalade hillsides, the pink granite outcrops and shadowed dark green rivers. Here too mountain ash, which we hadn’t seen since being in the Rockies, grow abundantly, their narrow tapered leaves all gone now till next year, and only the bunches of deep red berries left on grey branches. These will provide winter food, rich in iron and vitamin C, for birds, squirrels and bears.
Toward the southern end of the Provincial Park, to my delight, we came upon the Agawa Bay campground. We were glad to stop driving and spend a couple of nights in this beautiful place.
Lake Superior Provincial Park was another special place for me on our journey.
The campground, lined by a pebbly beach, faces west towards Agawa Bay and the vastness of Lake Superior beyond. Here at last I felt able to stop and be still and fully take in its magnificence. The evening air was cold in the wind, but that didn’t dampen the glow of the sunset or later the moon dropping its sparkles into the waves.
The Visitors Centre had been recently expanded and renovated and the next morning after exploring our options we decided to hike a section of the coastal trail.
Lake Superior is an “international treasure”. It has “the largest surface area of any freshwater lake in the world and it holds 10% of the Earth’s precious surface fresh water.” It is also the deepest of the Great Lakes and “could hold all the water of the other four, plus three more Lake Eries”. It seemed more like an ocean than a lake to me, with the waves constantly rolling, I found myself looking out into the distance in search of whales or seals. It’s interesting to me that no mammals have evolved to live in this vast expanse of fresh water. The rock pools seem strangely empty of animal life; there are no sea stars or urchins here in the crystal clear water.
Lake Superior Provincial Park is one of several parks and protected areas around the lake, and 11 trails explore the variety of landscapes, “rocky shores, beaches, lakes, and rivers, waterfalls, transition forest, wetlands and rolling hills”. This time we had time for only one day’s hiking, the other trails that take one into the interior will have to wait for another longer stay.
The Coastal Trail is 65 kms in total and to hike the whole length would take 5 or 6 days. We began our walk a short distance north of the main Agawa Bay trailhead at Sinclair Cove. We decided we would walk for 2 hours heading north before turning back.
This trail from all accounts is the most challenging one and certainly it was slow going. Clambering up rocky cliffs took us into the wind, which had the bite of the approaching winter though the day was clear and sunny. We were thankful to find some protection as we dropped down to boulder beaches nestled in coves and lined by red and white pines. I especially loved the patchwork of pink and white granite and black diabase, cobbles rolled round and smooth after centuries of waves lashing against the shore.
I felt the yearning to spend more time in this beautiful wild place. I believe its call reminds me that this type of experience is an essential component of my human life, along with my other more urban involvements.
Our final stretch along the shore of Lake Superior was an easy drive from Agawa Bay to Sault Ste. Marie The colours became increasingly vibrant as we drove south and I wanted to soak in those last views of the lake. It was wow, wow, wow, all the way along.
30th September – 3 October
The day we set off from Thunder Bay was a blustery, drizzly fall day, the greens and yellows and the occasional dabs of orange felt damp and muted. Ravens were plentiful and vocal, disturbed, perhaps, by the circling turkey vultures.
After about 100 kms we drove through the remarkable Red Rock area, the distinctly red cliffs rising steeply, edged by the greens and yellows above and below.
We were treated to many breath-taking views of the lake as the highway, at times, gouged its way, the road-cuts exposing the red granite of the Canadian Shield, and wound along the shoreline.
Stopping for lunch at the Rainbow Falls Provincial Park, we donned our hats, gloves and jackets to make the short walk to the falls. Brrrr!
By late afternoon we reached Shreiber where we braved the weather and took a walk around the sleepy town, before hunkering down for the night in the empty campground.
The first of October heralded promises of possible flurries later in the day. Not wanting to have to contend with snow while towing a trailer, the plan for that day became to aim for somewhere close to Sault Sainte Marie, still about 500 km away. From Shreiber the road follows the curves of the shoreline for another 100 km or so before arcing inland east and then south, meeting the lake again at Wawa, thus cutting off a large square nose that extends into the lake.
Once south of Wawa we entered Lake Superior Provincial Park and here we began to see the glorious oranges and reds of the maples along with the yellows of the aspens and birches. There were periodic breaks in the clouds by afternoon and the patchy sunlight added lustre to the marmalade hillsides, the pink granite outcrops and shadowed dark green rivers. Here too mountain ash, which we hadn’t seen since being in the Rockies, grow abundantly, their narrow tapered leaves all gone now till next year, and only the bunches of deep red berries left on grey branches. These will provide winter food, rich in iron and vitamin C, for birds, squirrels and bears.
Toward the southern end of the Provincial Park, to my delight, we came upon the Agawa Bay campground. We were glad to stop driving and spend a couple of nights in this beautiful place.
Lake Superior Provincial Park was another special place for me on our journey.
The campground, lined by a pebbly beach, faces west towards Agawa Bay and the vastness of Lake Superior beyond. Here at last I felt able to stop and be still and fully take in its magnificence. The evening air was cold in the wind, but that didn’t dampen the glow of the sunset or later the moon dropping its sparkles into the waves.
The Visitors Centre had been recently expanded and renovated and the next morning after exploring our options we decided to hike a section of the coastal trail.
Lake Superior is an “international treasure”. It has “the largest surface area of any freshwater lake in the world and it holds 10% of the Earth’s precious surface fresh water.” It is also the deepest of the Great Lakes and “could hold all the water of the other four, plus three more Lake Eries”. It seemed more like an ocean than a lake to me, with the waves constantly rolling, I found myself looking out into the distance in search of whales or seals. It’s interesting to me that no mammals have evolved to live in this vast expanse of fresh water. The rock pools seem strangely empty of animal life; there are no sea stars or urchins here in the crystal clear water.
Lake Superior Provincial Park is one of several parks and protected areas around the lake, and 11 trails explore the variety of landscapes, “rocky shores, beaches, lakes, and rivers, waterfalls, transition forest, wetlands and rolling hills”. This time we had time for only one day’s hiking, the other trails that take one into the interior will have to wait for another longer stay.
The Coastal Trail is 65 kms in total and to hike the whole length would take 5 or 6 days. We began our walk a short distance north of the main Agawa Bay trailhead at Sinclair Cove. We decided we would walk for 2 hours heading north before turning back.
This trail from all accounts is the most challenging one and certainly it was slow going. Clambering up rocky cliffs took us into the wind, which had the bite of the approaching winter though the day was clear and sunny. We were thankful to find some protection as we dropped down to boulder beaches nestled in coves and lined by red and white pines. I especially loved the patchwork of pink and white granite and black diabase, cobbles rolled round and smooth after centuries of waves lashing against the shore.
I felt the yearning to spend more time in this beautiful wild place. I believe its call reminds me that this type of experience is an essential component of my human life, along with my other more urban involvements.
Our final stretch along the shore of Lake Superior was an easy drive from Agawa Bay to Sault Ste. Marie The colours became increasingly vibrant as we drove south and I wanted to soak in those last views of the lake. It was wow, wow, wow, all the way along.
Friday, November 14, 2008
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
THUNDER BAY
27th – 30th September THUNDER BAY
Thunder Bay, with a population of about 110,000 people, is the largest city along the north shore of Lake Superior.
Europeans first settled in the area in the late 1600’s with 2 fur trading posts. These were later abandoned and in the early 1800’s Fort William became a permanent settlement. Several years later Port Arthur was established a few miles further north.
In 1970 the 2 cities were amalgamated and renamed Thunder Bay.
Amethyst is found in rich supply on the north shore of Lake Superior near Thunder Bay and is Ontario’s mineral emblem. Two mines close to the highway are open to the public where you can bring your own hammer and dig for yourself. We did not make it to a mine ourselves but I was able to buy a few gorgeous rocks, with the reflective purple crystals still attached to the grey rock.
“The earliest mention of amethyst near Lake Superior dates back to the 1600s, but the first large deposit was discovered in 1955 just east of Thunder Bay. In the Thunder Bay area, amethyst crystals formed in cavities created during the faulting of the Lake Superior basin about 1.1 billion years ago.”
Sleeping Giant Provincial Park is east of the city on the Sibley Peninsula, which juts into Lake Superior. On Sunday 28th September we headed out with a picnic lunch to spend the day in the park.
“The Sleeping Giant is a formation of mesas on Sibley Peninsula which resembles a giant lying on its back” when viewed from Thunder Bay. This is the main feature of the park, which has lakes, a campground and many miles of hiking trails.
We walked one short trail to see a spectacular landform known as the Sea Lion, jutting out into Lake Superior. This is a “diabase dyke formed after molten rock had squeezed up into a crack, hardened, and the surrounding softer rock eventually eroded away over time.” It was a bit of a stretch to see the sea lion in the rock, but the waves are battering away at it constantly so perhaps it doesn’t look so much like that anymore. To me it looked more like an elephant.
At the south tip of the peninsula, outside the border of the park, there is a small seasonal community named Silver Islet, consisting of privately owned cottages and a general store. A short distance off shore is a small rocky island of the same name, where a rich vein of pure silver was discovered in 1868. At that time the island was only 50 sq metres and 2.5 m above the waters of Lake Superior.
“In 1870, the site was developed by Alexander H. Sibley's Silver Islet Mining Company, which built wooden breakwaters around the island to hold back the lake's waves and increased the island's area substantially with crushed rock. The islet was expanded to over 10 times its original size and a small mining town was built up on the shore nearby.”
This was the first silver mine in Ontario and was in operation for 16 years.
“By 1883, most of the highest quality silver had been extracted and the price of silver had declined. The final straw came when a shipment of coal did not arrive before the end of the shipping season. The pumps holding back the waters of the lake failed and the mine shafts which had reached a depth of 384 metres were flooded in 1884.”
The houses on the tip of the mainland that were built to accomodate the miners are now the small group of privately owned cottages. Silver Islet Store, built at the water’s edge is 130 years old and the only original building still standing from the days of the operation of the mine.
“Throughout the spring breakup and fall, Silver Islet was cut off from the rest of the world. As the mine’s principle warehouse of supplies for the miners, the store was an important structure.” I’ll say!
“The store’s quarried stone foundation accounts for its longevity.”
Today, an older couple, the Saxbergs, owns the store, which has retained its historic character. Eric and I came upon it and wandered in. Mr Saxberg works the front of the store, selling groceries and hardware items that are kept on shelves behind the counter. An amiable man, he was seemed eager to chat to Eric about the history of the area. At the back of the store there is a Tea Room decorated with antiques and pictures from the mining period. We followed the aroma of homemade soup and baking and found an aproned Mrs Saxberg busily rolling pastry for pies in the kitchen. Wow! Sitting at a sunny table by a window looking out at the crashing waves of Lake Superior and the rocky outcrop that is Silver Islet, on a chilly windy fall morning, we ordered coffee and warm cinnamon buns with melting butter. We couldn’t believe our sheer good luck, a real old-time tearoom, where nothing else tastes this good.
The next afternoon we decided to visit the Fort William Historical Park, on the west side of Thunder Bay, which tells the story of the North West Company and the Canadian Fur Trade in this area. We were taken on a tour of some of the 40 buildings, depicting the fur trade life, as well as the medicine, business, domestic life and heritage farming of the time.
Fort William was an intermediary point between the west and Montreal, from where the furs were shipped to sell on the European market. Top hats made of beaver felt were all the rage in Europe in the 1700’s. Furs were brought to trading posts across North America, such as the one we’d visited at Fort Langley near Vancouver or Fort William, where they were traded for such items as blankets, glass beads, needles and provisions. The French Canadian voyageurs then undertook the dangerous journey, transporting the furs in 26ft. birch bark canoes along the fur trading routes, ultimately reaching Montreal.
A beautiful 9 ft. bronze statue of Terry Fox, set on a granite base, commemorates the courageous young man, who had lost one leg due to cancer. He is shown running his “Marathon of Hope”, raising money for cancer research. The site of the monument is on the outskirts of Thunder Bay and overlooks the massive Lake Superior. It is close to the point on the highway where he finally had to end his run, in August 1980, stricken by his illness. He died on the 28th June 1981.
Thunder Bay, with a population of about 110,000 people, is the largest city along the north shore of Lake Superior.
Europeans first settled in the area in the late 1600’s with 2 fur trading posts. These were later abandoned and in the early 1800’s Fort William became a permanent settlement. Several years later Port Arthur was established a few miles further north.
In 1970 the 2 cities were amalgamated and renamed Thunder Bay.
Amethyst is found in rich supply on the north shore of Lake Superior near Thunder Bay and is Ontario’s mineral emblem. Two mines close to the highway are open to the public where you can bring your own hammer and dig for yourself. We did not make it to a mine ourselves but I was able to buy a few gorgeous rocks, with the reflective purple crystals still attached to the grey rock.
“The earliest mention of amethyst near Lake Superior dates back to the 1600s, but the first large deposit was discovered in 1955 just east of Thunder Bay. In the Thunder Bay area, amethyst crystals formed in cavities created during the faulting of the Lake Superior basin about 1.1 billion years ago.”
Sleeping Giant Provincial Park is east of the city on the Sibley Peninsula, which juts into Lake Superior. On Sunday 28th September we headed out with a picnic lunch to spend the day in the park.
“The Sleeping Giant is a formation of mesas on Sibley Peninsula which resembles a giant lying on its back” when viewed from Thunder Bay. This is the main feature of the park, which has lakes, a campground and many miles of hiking trails.
We walked one short trail to see a spectacular landform known as the Sea Lion, jutting out into Lake Superior. This is a “diabase dyke formed after molten rock had squeezed up into a crack, hardened, and the surrounding softer rock eventually eroded away over time.” It was a bit of a stretch to see the sea lion in the rock, but the waves are battering away at it constantly so perhaps it doesn’t look so much like that anymore. To me it looked more like an elephant.
At the south tip of the peninsula, outside the border of the park, there is a small seasonal community named Silver Islet, consisting of privately owned cottages and a general store. A short distance off shore is a small rocky island of the same name, where a rich vein of pure silver was discovered in 1868. At that time the island was only 50 sq metres and 2.5 m above the waters of Lake Superior.
“In 1870, the site was developed by Alexander H. Sibley's Silver Islet Mining Company, which built wooden breakwaters around the island to hold back the lake's waves and increased the island's area substantially with crushed rock. The islet was expanded to over 10 times its original size and a small mining town was built up on the shore nearby.”
This was the first silver mine in Ontario and was in operation for 16 years.
“By 1883, most of the highest quality silver had been extracted and the price of silver had declined. The final straw came when a shipment of coal did not arrive before the end of the shipping season. The pumps holding back the waters of the lake failed and the mine shafts which had reached a depth of 384 metres were flooded in 1884.”
The houses on the tip of the mainland that were built to accomodate the miners are now the small group of privately owned cottages. Silver Islet Store, built at the water’s edge is 130 years old and the only original building still standing from the days of the operation of the mine.
“Throughout the spring breakup and fall, Silver Islet was cut off from the rest of the world. As the mine’s principle warehouse of supplies for the miners, the store was an important structure.” I’ll say!
“The store’s quarried stone foundation accounts for its longevity.”
Today, an older couple, the Saxbergs, owns the store, which has retained its historic character. Eric and I came upon it and wandered in. Mr Saxberg works the front of the store, selling groceries and hardware items that are kept on shelves behind the counter. An amiable man, he was seemed eager to chat to Eric about the history of the area. At the back of the store there is a Tea Room decorated with antiques and pictures from the mining period. We followed the aroma of homemade soup and baking and found an aproned Mrs Saxberg busily rolling pastry for pies in the kitchen. Wow! Sitting at a sunny table by a window looking out at the crashing waves of Lake Superior and the rocky outcrop that is Silver Islet, on a chilly windy fall morning, we ordered coffee and warm cinnamon buns with melting butter. We couldn’t believe our sheer good luck, a real old-time tearoom, where nothing else tastes this good.
The next afternoon we decided to visit the Fort William Historical Park, on the west side of Thunder Bay, which tells the story of the North West Company and the Canadian Fur Trade in this area. We were taken on a tour of some of the 40 buildings, depicting the fur trade life, as well as the medicine, business, domestic life and heritage farming of the time.
Fort William was an intermediary point between the west and Montreal, from where the furs were shipped to sell on the European market. Top hats made of beaver felt were all the rage in Europe in the 1700’s. Furs were brought to trading posts across North America, such as the one we’d visited at Fort Langley near Vancouver or Fort William, where they were traded for such items as blankets, glass beads, needles and provisions. The French Canadian voyageurs then undertook the dangerous journey, transporting the furs in 26ft. birch bark canoes along the fur trading routes, ultimately reaching Montreal.
A beautiful 9 ft. bronze statue of Terry Fox, set on a granite base, commemorates the courageous young man, who had lost one leg due to cancer. He is shown running his “Marathon of Hope”, raising money for cancer research. The site of the monument is on the outskirts of Thunder Bay and overlooks the massive Lake Superior. It is close to the point on the highway where he finally had to end his run, in August 1980, stricken by his illness. He died on the 28th June 1981.
Friday, November 7, 2008
GETTING TO THUNDER BAY
26th – 30th September GETTING TO THUNDER BAY
I felt a strong sense of Ontario as home as we approached Kenora. I had never been this far north before but the landscape of the Canadian Shield felt stirringly familiar to me.
Kenora is situated on Lake of the Woods, the second largest inland lake in Ontario. One third of the lake extends into Minnesota. The map of the area looks like a jigsaw puzzle of land and water, with islands and bays and rivers and creeks, and the town taking hold where it can. We had to negotiate some major roadwork as we bumped our way to a campground in the late Thursday afternoon.
The days were getting shorter and colder, the early mornings were dark and it was definitely more difficult getting out of bed in the morning. We spent one day in Kenora, browsing gift shops and the local museum, where we were surprised and interested to find a traveling exhibition of the submissions to the Canadian Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
This commission was formed to look into aboriginal abuse in the residential schools, and the displays included many photos and letters and recordings submitted mostly by victims of abuse. Working toward reconciliation is distressingly difficult and tenuous, and since that time in Kenora, the chairman, Justice Harry LaForme has resigned, citing difficulty working with the 2 other members of the commission.
It was a full day’s drive from Kenora, through the wilds of Northern Ontario, and the small but significant towns of Dryden, Ignace, Upsala and others, to Thunder Bay. I was struck by the remoteness of these frontier communities, far from the heavily populated southern corridor that I’m familiar with. These are hardy folk, hunters and fishers and boaters who drive 4-wheel drive trucks and know how to cope with the harsher extremes of the Canadian climate.
The black spruce and tamarack of the boreal forest stretched on and on for miles and miles, framing the highway with the earthy green and bedraggled look of trees accustomed to withstanding long cold winters. In the rockier, drier areas there were stands of whispering aspens and white birch, their colours beginning to change to warm yellows, catching the light in the warm sunny early fall day.
The boreal forest is a “world-wide band of conifer-dominated forest that stretches across Russia, Scandinavia, Alaska and northern Canada.” This eco-system, apparently stores more freshwater in wetlands and lakes, and carbon in trees, soil and peat, than any other.
A steady stream of transport trucks towered over us as they barreled past in both directions along this Northern Ontario highway.
By mid afternoon we reached Kakabeka Falls on the Kaministiquia River, 25km west of Thunder Bay. These impressive broad falls drop 130 ft. into a dangerously eroding gorge, with rocks that contain some of the oldest fossils in existence. The water in the river is a deep reddish brown due to the rusty nature of the native ironstone in the area.
There is a legend of this area which tells of an Ojibwe chief who “upon hearing news of an imminent attack from the Sioux tribe instructs his daughter, Princess Green Mantle, to devise a plan to protect her people. She entered the Sioux camp along the Kaministiquia River and, pretending to be lost, she bargained with them to spare her life if she would bring them to her father's camp. Placed at the head of the canoe, she instead led herself and the Sioux warriors over the falls to their deaths, sparing her tribe from the attack. The legend claims that one can see Green Mantle when looking into the mist of Kakabeka Falls, a monument to the princess that gave her life to save her people. Other versions of the legend say she came across the Sioux herself, and later jumped out of the canoe ahead of the falls and swam to shore, leaving the Sioux to go over the falls, then ran back to the camp to warn her people.”
We arrived in Thunder Bay ready to stop and spend 3 nights in a KOA campground.
I felt a strong sense of Ontario as home as we approached Kenora. I had never been this far north before but the landscape of the Canadian Shield felt stirringly familiar to me.
Kenora is situated on Lake of the Woods, the second largest inland lake in Ontario. One third of the lake extends into Minnesota. The map of the area looks like a jigsaw puzzle of land and water, with islands and bays and rivers and creeks, and the town taking hold where it can. We had to negotiate some major roadwork as we bumped our way to a campground in the late Thursday afternoon.
The days were getting shorter and colder, the early mornings were dark and it was definitely more difficult getting out of bed in the morning. We spent one day in Kenora, browsing gift shops and the local museum, where we were surprised and interested to find a traveling exhibition of the submissions to the Canadian Truth and Reconciliation Commission.
This commission was formed to look into aboriginal abuse in the residential schools, and the displays included many photos and letters and recordings submitted mostly by victims of abuse. Working toward reconciliation is distressingly difficult and tenuous, and since that time in Kenora, the chairman, Justice Harry LaForme has resigned, citing difficulty working with the 2 other members of the commission.
It was a full day’s drive from Kenora, through the wilds of Northern Ontario, and the small but significant towns of Dryden, Ignace, Upsala and others, to Thunder Bay. I was struck by the remoteness of these frontier communities, far from the heavily populated southern corridor that I’m familiar with. These are hardy folk, hunters and fishers and boaters who drive 4-wheel drive trucks and know how to cope with the harsher extremes of the Canadian climate.
The black spruce and tamarack of the boreal forest stretched on and on for miles and miles, framing the highway with the earthy green and bedraggled look of trees accustomed to withstanding long cold winters. In the rockier, drier areas there were stands of whispering aspens and white birch, their colours beginning to change to warm yellows, catching the light in the warm sunny early fall day.
The boreal forest is a “world-wide band of conifer-dominated forest that stretches across Russia, Scandinavia, Alaska and northern Canada.” This eco-system, apparently stores more freshwater in wetlands and lakes, and carbon in trees, soil and peat, than any other.
A steady stream of transport trucks towered over us as they barreled past in both directions along this Northern Ontario highway.
By mid afternoon we reached Kakabeka Falls on the Kaministiquia River, 25km west of Thunder Bay. These impressive broad falls drop 130 ft. into a dangerously eroding gorge, with rocks that contain some of the oldest fossils in existence. The water in the river is a deep reddish brown due to the rusty nature of the native ironstone in the area.
There is a legend of this area which tells of an Ojibwe chief who “upon hearing news of an imminent attack from the Sioux tribe instructs his daughter, Princess Green Mantle, to devise a plan to protect her people. She entered the Sioux camp along the Kaministiquia River and, pretending to be lost, she bargained with them to spare her life if she would bring them to her father's camp. Placed at the head of the canoe, she instead led herself and the Sioux warriors over the falls to their deaths, sparing her tribe from the attack. The legend claims that one can see Green Mantle when looking into the mist of Kakabeka Falls, a monument to the princess that gave her life to save her people. Other versions of the legend say she came across the Sioux herself, and later jumped out of the canoe ahead of the falls and swam to shore, leaving the Sioux to go over the falls, then ran back to the camp to warn her people.”
We arrived in Thunder Bay ready to stop and spend 3 nights in a KOA campground.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
THE PRAIRIE DRIVE
22nd – 25th September 2008 THE PRAIRIE DRIVE
On the sunny, chilly Monday morning Eric and I were at our posts preparing for take off; Eric outside hitching trusty van to trailer, getting torsion and sway bars into position, and me inside ensuring that the fridge doesn’t fly open and off-load its goods along the way, and that dishes and glasses stay put in the cupboards.
It was time to leave Alberta, a province, which I have to say I absolutely loved. The landscape is stunningly varied, with high mountain ranges on its western border, rolling green hills along its mid section, flat prairie farmland and pockets of badlands in the south. The badlands were so-named by the early French immigrants who found it to be no good for farming. Northern Alberta, which we didn’t get to, is a vast expanse of wilderness, much of it inaccessible by vehicle, as is true of all the Canadian provinces.
By the way…
Hoodoos are the “oddly shaped pedestals of earth or pillars of rock that develop through erosion by wind and water, especially in the areas where sedimentary layers alternate between hard and soft material.”
Coulees (in Western Canada and US) are “deep ravines, usually dry, that were formed by running water.”
Our return trip through Saskatchewan took us through the prairie towns of Swift Current and Moose Jaw.
This is the land of the long straight trains and the wide-open skies. Flat lands transform into humpy grass covered hills then flatten out again. Pastel colours extend far out to the horizon, textured by patches of sunlight illuminating golden fields, and bales of hay as far as the eye can see.
Our stop at the end of the day was at a campground, Buffalo Lookout RV Park, just east of Regina.
We spent one day looking around Regina, which, though it is the capital city of Saskatchewan, is smaller than Saskatoon and has a population on about 200,00 people.
It is not easy to tap into the unique jewels of a city when it is completely unknown and we’ve had no recommendations. So my feelings about Regina were mixed.
We headed into town with the morning traffic, and made our way to Wascana Centre, an urban park in the heart of Regina. This area surrounds the Wascana Lake, which is fed by the Wascana Creek, and within its boundaries are the Legislative building and the University of Regina.
A network of walking and biking trails wind through the park. There are picnic spots, a ball diamond, a cricket pitch, canoe and kayak rentals and the like, a busy place in the summer I’m sure. But all was quiet the day we were there, in late September.
From this parkland we walked several downtown blocks, no different from other small city downtown blocks, and found ourselves a mediocre lunch. Actually mine was a bad salad.
Saskatchewan is a narrow province from west to east and by the next day we’d traveled the populated southern corridor and crossed the border into Manitoba.
We by-passed Brandon, which was where the trailer had suffered from a severe dose of disintegrating tires, three months prior. At that time we were moving north to intersect the Yellowhead Highway, this time we were heading due east.
We arrived at Portage La Prairie by evening and found a spot at the almost empty town campground, on the banks of the Assiniboine River. As evening came, a beautiful sunset provided a backdrop for hundreds of noisily honking geese landing and taking off from the gently flowing river. They come here in droves at this time of year to rest and feed, all part of their migration south.
Janet and Mike Bell had recommended to us Bill’s Sticky Fingers restaurant, so we sought it out and this time had a very satisfactory and tasty meal. Eric enjoyed their famous ribs and I the chicken souvlaki.
We skirted north of Winnipeg, stopping for a couple of hours at the Hammock Oak Marsh. I had hoped that perhaps we’d see something of the thousands of migrating shore birds and snow geese that travel this way in the fall. However for the most part they take off early in the morning to feeding grounds, returning to the marshes in the evening to rest.
Nevertheless we did enjoy lunch and a peaceful walk through prairie grass and marshland before continuing our trip, back onto the Canadian Shield and towards Kenora in Northern Ontario.
On the sunny, chilly Monday morning Eric and I were at our posts preparing for take off; Eric outside hitching trusty van to trailer, getting torsion and sway bars into position, and me inside ensuring that the fridge doesn’t fly open and off-load its goods along the way, and that dishes and glasses stay put in the cupboards.
It was time to leave Alberta, a province, which I have to say I absolutely loved. The landscape is stunningly varied, with high mountain ranges on its western border, rolling green hills along its mid section, flat prairie farmland and pockets of badlands in the south. The badlands were so-named by the early French immigrants who found it to be no good for farming. Northern Alberta, which we didn’t get to, is a vast expanse of wilderness, much of it inaccessible by vehicle, as is true of all the Canadian provinces.
By the way…
Hoodoos are the “oddly shaped pedestals of earth or pillars of rock that develop through erosion by wind and water, especially in the areas where sedimentary layers alternate between hard and soft material.”
Coulees (in Western Canada and US) are “deep ravines, usually dry, that were formed by running water.”
Our return trip through Saskatchewan took us through the prairie towns of Swift Current and Moose Jaw.
This is the land of the long straight trains and the wide-open skies. Flat lands transform into humpy grass covered hills then flatten out again. Pastel colours extend far out to the horizon, textured by patches of sunlight illuminating golden fields, and bales of hay as far as the eye can see.
Our stop at the end of the day was at a campground, Buffalo Lookout RV Park, just east of Regina.
We spent one day looking around Regina, which, though it is the capital city of Saskatchewan, is smaller than Saskatoon and has a population on about 200,00 people.
It is not easy to tap into the unique jewels of a city when it is completely unknown and we’ve had no recommendations. So my feelings about Regina were mixed.
We headed into town with the morning traffic, and made our way to Wascana Centre, an urban park in the heart of Regina. This area surrounds the Wascana Lake, which is fed by the Wascana Creek, and within its boundaries are the Legislative building and the University of Regina.
A network of walking and biking trails wind through the park. There are picnic spots, a ball diamond, a cricket pitch, canoe and kayak rentals and the like, a busy place in the summer I’m sure. But all was quiet the day we were there, in late September.
From this parkland we walked several downtown blocks, no different from other small city downtown blocks, and found ourselves a mediocre lunch. Actually mine was a bad salad.
Saskatchewan is a narrow province from west to east and by the next day we’d traveled the populated southern corridor and crossed the border into Manitoba.
We by-passed Brandon, which was where the trailer had suffered from a severe dose of disintegrating tires, three months prior. At that time we were moving north to intersect the Yellowhead Highway, this time we were heading due east.
We arrived at Portage La Prairie by evening and found a spot at the almost empty town campground, on the banks of the Assiniboine River. As evening came, a beautiful sunset provided a backdrop for hundreds of noisily honking geese landing and taking off from the gently flowing river. They come here in droves at this time of year to rest and feed, all part of their migration south.
Janet and Mike Bell had recommended to us Bill’s Sticky Fingers restaurant, so we sought it out and this time had a very satisfactory and tasty meal. Eric enjoyed their famous ribs and I the chicken souvlaki.
We skirted north of Winnipeg, stopping for a couple of hours at the Hammock Oak Marsh. I had hoped that perhaps we’d see something of the thousands of migrating shore birds and snow geese that travel this way in the fall. However for the most part they take off early in the morning to feeding grounds, returning to the marshes in the evening to rest.
Nevertheless we did enjoy lunch and a peaceful walk through prairie grass and marshland before continuing our trip, back onto the Canadian Shield and towards Kenora in Northern Ontario.
Monday, October 27, 2008
ROYAL TYRELL MUSEUM, DRUMHELLER
"What an amazing race-walker I could be if I had leg bones like this!"
DINOSAUR PROVINCIAL PARK
Partially excavated dinosaurs bones in their original place of discovery. A structure has been built around the bones to protect them.
ALBERTA FARMLANDS
Typical Central and Northern Alberta Farmlands; thousands and thousands of bales of hay. Rocky Mountains visible on the skyline.
Friday, October 24, 2008
50 - 75 MILLION YEARS AGO
19th – 22nd September 2008 50 -75 MILLION YEARS AGO
I really couldn’t imagine what the Badlands of Dinosaur Provincial Park were going to be like. I only speculated that the scenery would be different from anything I’d ever seen so far. Our drive there had been as expected through flat prairie farmland and cattle ranches, but as we drew closer to the boundary of the provincial park we suddenly and startlingly found ourselves in the badlands. From this initial vantage point these were not hills rising up and visible from a distance, but deep yawning holes opening up in a dry and desolate landscape, the result of years of ravaging erosion. I remember catching my breath in amazement the first moment I saw this odd looking earthscape.
Once in the park itself we found ourselves surrounded by the cliffs, and valleys called coulees, of deeply weathered ironstone-topped hillocks. They reminded me of cone-shaped layer cakes with mudstone as the middle layer and sandstone at the base. In some places all that was left of the cake was a sculpture that created a balancing rock look, known as a hoodoo. Mule deer could often be seen clambering along the rugged slopes and grazing the prairie grass.
Dinosaur Provincial Park is a World Heritage Site as designated by UNESCO and its sharp angular features forms the largest area of badlands in Canada.
The campsite is attractively situated on the banks of The Little Sandhill Creek under the shade of 25year old cottonwood trees, and adjacent to this is the 10km Public Loop Road. One can explore freely inside the perimeter of this road, and there are several marked walking trails as well. Outside of the loop road we noticed a large area that was closed off to the public. This is a natural preserve area where dinosaur palaeontologists and research students continue to work on active digs, and is accessible to the public only when on guided tours.
One of the marked self-guiding trails, The Trail of the Fossil Hunters, ends at an old quarry site, discovered during The Great Canadian Dinosaur Rush. Evidently the fever was every bit as intense as during any gold rush, with fiercely competitive palaeontologists vying for glory and the best specimens.
There is now a glassed in exhibit, an old dig that had been left in process, of enormous fossilized dinosaur bones still partly imbedded in the rock from which they had been exposed. These were the bones of a Centrosaurus, a duck billed dinosaur (hadrosaur) that lived in the Late Cretaceous Period, 50 to 75 million years ago.
This was my first visceral experience of the reality of the existence of these enormous animals living during an unimaginably distant past. To me they will never again be simply those plastic toys or rather tiresome animated talking creatures seen in numerous movies.
The Centrosaurus was a “medium” sized horned dinosaur that lived in herds of up to about 400 hundred animals. It lived before and was smaller than Triceratops.
We booked ourselves a busy Saturday with a 3hr. guided walking tour in the morning and a 2hr guided bus tour in the afternoon.
However, wanting make the most of our time here we got up early and went on a self-guided walk, the Cottonwood Flats Trail. It was on this walk that I began to get a better sense of the lush and varied riverside habitat that exists in proximity to and in harmony with the badlands.
There are 3 distinct eco-zones in this park, offering habitat to a variety of bird, animal and plant species. Prairie grasslands form only about 10% of the park’s area, “an important remnant of the native prairie ecosystem that once covered most of the vast Interior Plains stretching from Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba as far south as Texas.” The other 2 zones are of course the badlands and the riparian or riverbank zone.
This walk took us away from the dry and rugged coulees onto the floodplain of the wide Red Deer River. This is a narrow greenbelt that extends back a few hundred metres from the river’s edge. “Towering cottonwoods act as a canopy, creating a cool moist environment for under story species such as wild rose, saskatoon berry, chokecherry, buffaloberry and dogwood bushes”. There are an abundance of burrowing and aquatic insects, and a variety of nesting opportunities that attract over half of the parks 165 species of birds. May and June is apparently the time to come for keen bird-watchers. It also provides habitat for small mammals, coyote, beaver and porcupine, as well as the mule deer.
I was interested to learn that in this part of southern Alberta, the cottonwoods (a member of the poplar family) are at risk. They do not send out runners and will not survive being transplanted or grown from seed in a controlled environment. They will only seed themselves in wet mud in the aftermath of a flood, which happens periodically and unpredictably. The oldest trees are several hundred years old and the youngest ones are 25 years old. More recently a dam has been built a several hundred kms upstream, for, guess what, flood control and for irrigation purposes. To my mind this is very sad as it means those beautiful trees now have no way of regenerating themselves in this area, and could ultimately die out completely.
Dillon was our enthusiastic guide for the Centrosaurus Bone Bed Hike and for the Badlands Bus Tour, and took us into the Natural Preserve area. Though the information overlapped somewhat it was a most fascinating day.
Our first instruction on the hike was to stay on the trail and walk in single file. (The discipline of my convent days came in handy here!) This really emphasized for me how imperative it is to protect the very fragile, wind-swept and precious eco-system.
75 million years ago Alberta was covered by a huge subtropical ocean and coastal area. This ancient sea extended the whole length of what is now the North American Continent. It was home to sharks, crocodiles and turtles having lush vegetation similar to present day Florida. It was also home to large herds of dinosaurs. In what is now the Dinosaur Provincial Park something occurred to cause the deaths of a herd of hundreds of adults and juvenile Centrosaurus leaving behind these extraordinary fossilized bone beds that tell something of their story. One theory is that perhaps they were drowned crossing a flood-swollen river and were rapidly covered in sand and mud. As I understand it, in very simplistic terms, eons of time went by, several ice ages came and went, glaciers advanced and retreated, and lakes formed and dried up. Much more recently wind and rain eroded away the soft under layer of sandstone and worked more slowly on the mudstone, leaving behind toppings of the much harder ironstone layer. After millions of years this process has finally exposed an amazing legacy, this rich record of fossilized bones and petrified wood.
To realize that almost every rock we picked up to look at or walked on top of was part of an enormous bed of bones, the bones of reptiles that could weigh up to three thousand pounds each and that had evolved to the point where they would care for their young, was truly mind blowing.
The following day we left early to drive the couple of hours to Drumheller and the Royal Tyrell Museum, so as to get there as the doors opened. Drumheller itself is a small town with the main attraction clearly being the museum. Great dinosaurs stood at entries to gas stations, campgrounds and the like, and there were stores dotted about selling fossils.
Eric and I spent a full day, with only a short lunch break, thoroughly immersed.
It was set up in such a way that we were able to walk through the various eras, going from Precambrian to Palaeozoic to Cretaceous and so on. This was extremely helpful to me. I was able to enter into the experience of our planet’s history and acquire some understanding of the order of life’s progression through billions of years.
There were intriguing exhibits of tiny life forms such as magnified fossilized grains of pollen, of various species of prehistoric plants such as kelp, and of dinosaur footprints. Impressive dinosaur skeletons towered over us, while at eye-level there were examples of such things as ancient sea turtles and other marine fossils and prehistoric animals.
The fossils of the very large down to the very tiny was captivating.
Time in that place felt strangely beyond time, more like timeless.
I really couldn’t imagine what the Badlands of Dinosaur Provincial Park were going to be like. I only speculated that the scenery would be different from anything I’d ever seen so far. Our drive there had been as expected through flat prairie farmland and cattle ranches, but as we drew closer to the boundary of the provincial park we suddenly and startlingly found ourselves in the badlands. From this initial vantage point these were not hills rising up and visible from a distance, but deep yawning holes opening up in a dry and desolate landscape, the result of years of ravaging erosion. I remember catching my breath in amazement the first moment I saw this odd looking earthscape.
Once in the park itself we found ourselves surrounded by the cliffs, and valleys called coulees, of deeply weathered ironstone-topped hillocks. They reminded me of cone-shaped layer cakes with mudstone as the middle layer and sandstone at the base. In some places all that was left of the cake was a sculpture that created a balancing rock look, known as a hoodoo. Mule deer could often be seen clambering along the rugged slopes and grazing the prairie grass.
Dinosaur Provincial Park is a World Heritage Site as designated by UNESCO and its sharp angular features forms the largest area of badlands in Canada.
The campsite is attractively situated on the banks of The Little Sandhill Creek under the shade of 25year old cottonwood trees, and adjacent to this is the 10km Public Loop Road. One can explore freely inside the perimeter of this road, and there are several marked walking trails as well. Outside of the loop road we noticed a large area that was closed off to the public. This is a natural preserve area where dinosaur palaeontologists and research students continue to work on active digs, and is accessible to the public only when on guided tours.
One of the marked self-guiding trails, The Trail of the Fossil Hunters, ends at an old quarry site, discovered during The Great Canadian Dinosaur Rush. Evidently the fever was every bit as intense as during any gold rush, with fiercely competitive palaeontologists vying for glory and the best specimens.
There is now a glassed in exhibit, an old dig that had been left in process, of enormous fossilized dinosaur bones still partly imbedded in the rock from which they had been exposed. These were the bones of a Centrosaurus, a duck billed dinosaur (hadrosaur) that lived in the Late Cretaceous Period, 50 to 75 million years ago.
This was my first visceral experience of the reality of the existence of these enormous animals living during an unimaginably distant past. To me they will never again be simply those plastic toys or rather tiresome animated talking creatures seen in numerous movies.
The Centrosaurus was a “medium” sized horned dinosaur that lived in herds of up to about 400 hundred animals. It lived before and was smaller than Triceratops.
We booked ourselves a busy Saturday with a 3hr. guided walking tour in the morning and a 2hr guided bus tour in the afternoon.
However, wanting make the most of our time here we got up early and went on a self-guided walk, the Cottonwood Flats Trail. It was on this walk that I began to get a better sense of the lush and varied riverside habitat that exists in proximity to and in harmony with the badlands.
There are 3 distinct eco-zones in this park, offering habitat to a variety of bird, animal and plant species. Prairie grasslands form only about 10% of the park’s area, “an important remnant of the native prairie ecosystem that once covered most of the vast Interior Plains stretching from Alberta, Saskatchewan and Manitoba as far south as Texas.” The other 2 zones are of course the badlands and the riparian or riverbank zone.
This walk took us away from the dry and rugged coulees onto the floodplain of the wide Red Deer River. This is a narrow greenbelt that extends back a few hundred metres from the river’s edge. “Towering cottonwoods act as a canopy, creating a cool moist environment for under story species such as wild rose, saskatoon berry, chokecherry, buffaloberry and dogwood bushes”. There are an abundance of burrowing and aquatic insects, and a variety of nesting opportunities that attract over half of the parks 165 species of birds. May and June is apparently the time to come for keen bird-watchers. It also provides habitat for small mammals, coyote, beaver and porcupine, as well as the mule deer.
I was interested to learn that in this part of southern Alberta, the cottonwoods (a member of the poplar family) are at risk. They do not send out runners and will not survive being transplanted or grown from seed in a controlled environment. They will only seed themselves in wet mud in the aftermath of a flood, which happens periodically and unpredictably. The oldest trees are several hundred years old and the youngest ones are 25 years old. More recently a dam has been built a several hundred kms upstream, for, guess what, flood control and for irrigation purposes. To my mind this is very sad as it means those beautiful trees now have no way of regenerating themselves in this area, and could ultimately die out completely.
Dillon was our enthusiastic guide for the Centrosaurus Bone Bed Hike and for the Badlands Bus Tour, and took us into the Natural Preserve area. Though the information overlapped somewhat it was a most fascinating day.
Our first instruction on the hike was to stay on the trail and walk in single file. (The discipline of my convent days came in handy here!) This really emphasized for me how imperative it is to protect the very fragile, wind-swept and precious eco-system.
75 million years ago Alberta was covered by a huge subtropical ocean and coastal area. This ancient sea extended the whole length of what is now the North American Continent. It was home to sharks, crocodiles and turtles having lush vegetation similar to present day Florida. It was also home to large herds of dinosaurs. In what is now the Dinosaur Provincial Park something occurred to cause the deaths of a herd of hundreds of adults and juvenile Centrosaurus leaving behind these extraordinary fossilized bone beds that tell something of their story. One theory is that perhaps they were drowned crossing a flood-swollen river and were rapidly covered in sand and mud. As I understand it, in very simplistic terms, eons of time went by, several ice ages came and went, glaciers advanced and retreated, and lakes formed and dried up. Much more recently wind and rain eroded away the soft under layer of sandstone and worked more slowly on the mudstone, leaving behind toppings of the much harder ironstone layer. After millions of years this process has finally exposed an amazing legacy, this rich record of fossilized bones and petrified wood.
To realize that almost every rock we picked up to look at or walked on top of was part of an enormous bed of bones, the bones of reptiles that could weigh up to three thousand pounds each and that had evolved to the point where they would care for their young, was truly mind blowing.
The following day we left early to drive the couple of hours to Drumheller and the Royal Tyrell Museum, so as to get there as the doors opened. Drumheller itself is a small town with the main attraction clearly being the museum. Great dinosaurs stood at entries to gas stations, campgrounds and the like, and there were stores dotted about selling fossils.
Eric and I spent a full day, with only a short lunch break, thoroughly immersed.
It was set up in such a way that we were able to walk through the various eras, going from Precambrian to Palaeozoic to Cretaceous and so on. This was extremely helpful to me. I was able to enter into the experience of our planet’s history and acquire some understanding of the order of life’s progression through billions of years.
There were intriguing exhibits of tiny life forms such as magnified fossilized grains of pollen, of various species of prehistoric plants such as kelp, and of dinosaur footprints. Impressive dinosaur skeletons towered over us, while at eye-level there were examples of such things as ancient sea turtles and other marine fossils and prehistoric animals.
The fossils of the very large down to the very tiny was captivating.
Time in that place felt strangely beyond time, more like timeless.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
CALGARY
16th – 18th September CALGARY
On Tuesday 16th September we packed up and left Waterton Lakes National Park. It was a final goodbye for now from me to the mountains, which have a way of shaking me down to my very core. I will miss their extraordinary indescribable splendour, no pettiness there, only the grand issues of life and death.
I was very aware that the little town was beginning to close its shutters, the tourists were dwindling, and a lot of the townspeople were making plans to leave for places more comfortable. Only 30 people brave the winter in Waterton. All the sentient beings of the area were in fine tune with the power and processes of nature, and were making arrangements to make it through the long deep cold. We too, needed to make our arrangements and stay ahead of the snow, in order to reach the coziness of Nairn before the towing of a trailer became hazardous.
Our neighbours at the campsite are from Calgary and gave us some tips about where we could stay, before we set off for our next destination. Our route was along the TransCanada Highway, the #1 Highway, which took us through miles and miles of flat prairie ranch land, in sharp contrast to the terrain we were leaving. This was home to thousands of black and brown cows and not quite as many horses, and fields upon fields of neatly rolled and piled up bales of hay.
We bypassed the city itself and checked in at a campground in the dormitory community of Cochane north of Calgary. Calgary has boomed in recent years and is a sprawling city with many examples of mushrooming suburbia perched on the desirable tops of all the surrounding hills. Looking to the west in the far distance, the faint blue of the Rockies can be seen.
Wednesday morning we left early without the trailer in tow, to do the 2-hour drive back to Rocky Mountain House. I wanted to spend just a few last hours with Jean, and to see Sarah and her brother Michael, who was visiting from England, before we headed back to Ontario. On a clear sunny day, it was a lovely drive, once more in fertile farm country.
Thursday was designated as the day to spend in Calgary. Public transit is very good and we took the fast train into the city centre. The downtown core was strikingly busy and something of a shock after the great silences of Waterton. Lunchtime was a crazy cacophony of city sounds. We, at first, attempted to sit out on the restaurant’s patio to watch the smartly dressed passers-by, purposefully moving about on their lunch break. But a concrete mixer nearby, part of a road repair project, was grimly and determinedly rotating its viscous load and spewing it out, creating such an ear-exploding din, that we retreated inside. Once inside, conversation annihilating high volume canned music, and a TV relentlessly and simultaneously droning on, assaulted us. Eric and I, beaten by the onslaught, simply ate our meal and left. As if in consolation, the food was good, not always the case in an unknown city, and the server was a cheery soul.
It was the gods’ idea of black comedy, I suppose, as in the midst of it all Eric and I were gloomily and impossibly attempting to resolve a conflict. Funny really…now!! In the end, the external craziness had the effect of diffusing our tension and left us quiet and weary.
Perhaps Calgary deserves another visit.
On Tuesday 16th September we packed up and left Waterton Lakes National Park. It was a final goodbye for now from me to the mountains, which have a way of shaking me down to my very core. I will miss their extraordinary indescribable splendour, no pettiness there, only the grand issues of life and death.
I was very aware that the little town was beginning to close its shutters, the tourists were dwindling, and a lot of the townspeople were making plans to leave for places more comfortable. Only 30 people brave the winter in Waterton. All the sentient beings of the area were in fine tune with the power and processes of nature, and were making arrangements to make it through the long deep cold. We too, needed to make our arrangements and stay ahead of the snow, in order to reach the coziness of Nairn before the towing of a trailer became hazardous.
Our neighbours at the campsite are from Calgary and gave us some tips about where we could stay, before we set off for our next destination. Our route was along the TransCanada Highway, the #1 Highway, which took us through miles and miles of flat prairie ranch land, in sharp contrast to the terrain we were leaving. This was home to thousands of black and brown cows and not quite as many horses, and fields upon fields of neatly rolled and piled up bales of hay.
We bypassed the city itself and checked in at a campground in the dormitory community of Cochane north of Calgary. Calgary has boomed in recent years and is a sprawling city with many examples of mushrooming suburbia perched on the desirable tops of all the surrounding hills. Looking to the west in the far distance, the faint blue of the Rockies can be seen.
Wednesday morning we left early without the trailer in tow, to do the 2-hour drive back to Rocky Mountain House. I wanted to spend just a few last hours with Jean, and to see Sarah and her brother Michael, who was visiting from England, before we headed back to Ontario. On a clear sunny day, it was a lovely drive, once more in fertile farm country.
Thursday was designated as the day to spend in Calgary. Public transit is very good and we took the fast train into the city centre. The downtown core was strikingly busy and something of a shock after the great silences of Waterton. Lunchtime was a crazy cacophony of city sounds. We, at first, attempted to sit out on the restaurant’s patio to watch the smartly dressed passers-by, purposefully moving about on their lunch break. But a concrete mixer nearby, part of a road repair project, was grimly and determinedly rotating its viscous load and spewing it out, creating such an ear-exploding din, that we retreated inside. Once inside, conversation annihilating high volume canned music, and a TV relentlessly and simultaneously droning on, assaulted us. Eric and I, beaten by the onslaught, simply ate our meal and left. As if in consolation, the food was good, not always the case in an unknown city, and the server was a cheery soul.
It was the gods’ idea of black comedy, I suppose, as in the midst of it all Eric and I were gloomily and impossibly attempting to resolve a conflict. Funny really…now!! In the end, the external craziness had the effect of diffusing our tension and left us quiet and weary.
Perhaps Calgary deserves another visit.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
GLACIER NATIONAL PARK
Walking on the first afternoon in the Many Glacier portion of the Glacier National Park
BACK IN THE MOUNTAINS
10th – 15th September BACK IN THE MOUNTAINS
There was a noticeable difference in the weather and in the number of daylight hours, since we had driven through the Rockies in early July.
We awoke the next morning to rain and cloud-shrouded mountains, with fresh snow in places, so we took it easy and only after lunch did we head over to the St. Mary Visitor Centre to plan some hiking. That afternoon we drove to Many Glacier and from there began a short hike to Fishercap Lake hoping to see a moose, but no luck there. On the way though we had our first black bear sighting, 2 small dots on a hill that became an adult and a juvenile with the help of binoculars. Our trail continued past Red Rock Lake to the Red Rock Falls, a vivid deep red mudstone.
By the time we were driving back to our camp it was getting dark but we were lucky enough to see a handsome male moose with an impressive rack by a lake’s edge. A bit further away, a grizzly bear (or were there 2?) was feeding in among some bushes. It was fairly dark by this time and I could only just make him out even with my trusty binoculars.
The next morning the air was cold though the day was sunny. To reach the trailhead of the Highline Trail, our planned hike, we drove about a third of the way along the scenic 50-mile Going To The Sun Road until we reached Logan’s Pass, where the road crosses the Continental Divide.
Going To The Sun Road is a scenic route through the Glacier National Park between the west entrance near West Glacier and the east entrance at St. Mary. It was completed in the 1930’s and is winding, narrow and steep. Trailers are not allowed to travel on it hence we had to take the longer route the day before.
The Continental Divide extends through both Glacier and Waterton Lakes National Parks and beyond to Crowsnest Pass. This is the dividing line of high ground; on the one side of which the rivers flow to the Pacific and on the other side the rivers flow to the Atlantic.
At Logan’s Pass we were already above the tree line and we followed along a narrow rock ledge for some way, against the side of the steep mountain. From this ledge we could look way down and far out at a wide-open vista of mountains in all directions.
As the trail continued it kept at a fairly even gradient, and some way along we were introduced to wild huckleberries by a couple of girls who were picking this local specialty. They’re popular with the bears too I’m sure.
On a distant hillside we watched Long Horn sheep grazing and further along followed the movement of mountain goats down into a valley.
We had lunch high up on an alpine vantage point with a magnificent view and watched as the group of about 20 mountain goats, which included about half a dozen young ones, came closer. They seemed quite unperturbed by our interest, so we were able to get very close and watch them feeding on the low growing vegetation. In late summer groups of females and young ones stay together, feeding up in preparation for winter. I’m assuming this was such a group.
The handsome males, which have great furry beards and straight black horns, are solitary or cluster in small groups, (females have shorter black horns).
These animals are quite large and strong looking with glorious thick white fur. Their sturdy back legs looked particularly impressive to me, needed I’m sure, for good balance and for leaping from rock to rock.
They live all winter high in the deep snow of the mountains, feeding on lichens and whatever else they can find. The veins in their feet are able to enlarge to prevent them from freezing, and the fermenting of the digesting food in the first of their 2 stomachs also helps them to withstand the below zero temperatures.
I felt privileged to have been able to watch them so closely go about being beautiful mountain goats.
Next morning we left St. Mary and made a hassle-free crossing into Alberta at the Chief Mountain Border. Checking what kind of bear spray we had seemed to be the only concern. Apparently some varieties can be used as weapons! Nasty! Nasty!
We established ourselves at the campground in the little town of Waterton, which is nestled on the edge of the large and beautiful Waterton Lake and planned to spend several days. A herd of mule deer has grown accustomed to grazing in the campground and around the town, taking shelter against the wind and rain by huddling together up against the walls of buildings. Easily recognized by their large ears, which stand straight up, ever alert to any alarm, and black-tipped, white tails, they moved contentedly about the grassy campsite, feeding, thereby eliminating any need for lawn mowing.
I was thrilled to be revisiting Waterton. We’d been there 4 years ago, with Matt and Alan and cousin Dave, my first experience of The Rockies, and I had lovely memories of beautiful hikes and lots of laughs.
On our first afternoon we hiked the Bertha Falls and Bertha Lake Trail, which begins right at the campsite. The round trip is about 15 km and it took us about 5 hours. The first part of the trail has magnificent views overlooking Upper Waterton Lake, which extends south and into Glacier Park in Montana. The trail then begins to climb up to a lovely view of the Lower Bertha Falls, followed by switchbacks taking one up more steeply past the Upper Falls, which we caught but a glimpse of, to the alpine lake. Having a snack beside the water were a group of about 5 people and their horses. Eric and I continued on to do the gently rolling 4.5 km trail that circles the lake. “Bertha Lake is a beautiful, deep-blue lake set beneath tremendous cliffs.” Steep avalanche slopes come straight down to the water’s edge. We noticed a few campsites hidden away but close to the lake and I thought how great it would be to spend a couple of days up there taking quick dips in the perfectly clear water (if it ever got warm enough) and enjoying the alpine wild flowers and the sun.
On the way down we came upon the group of riders again and as we came up behind them I marveled at how the horses managed to negotiate the narrow rocky path.
Egg sandwiches and power bars were the sustenance for a longer, more strenuous hike the following day. Our plan was to climb up onto, and walk some of the way along the Akamina Ridge. To get to the trailhead we drove along the Akamina Parkway. From there we began by walking the 1.5 km, which took us up to the Akamina Pass and to the border with BC. Now we were entering the Akamina – Kishenena Provincial Park, which abuts Waterton, and we made our way along the Wall Lake Trail, which rose gently through forest. There were small patches of fresh snow here and there; reminding us that summer is a very short season in the mountains. There can be snow for eight months of the year. Once we reached Wall Lake we could look way up high towards the heavens and see the Akamina Ridge long and strangely flat. As I contemplated the sight I couldn’t quite believe that this was really where we were headed.
We walked around the north end of the lake and then began the very steep climb up to Bennett Pass. I have to say that this section was The Most Challenging piece of hiking I have ever encountered. I had done some pretty tricky scrambling up and over rocks, and walked some pretty steep terrain, but this was extremely hard going and it felt as though it would never end. The narrow path, covered in loose gravel that was inclined to roll under foot if you didn’t play close attention, ascended sharply and mercilessly. We were walking up the side of a mountain, which disappeared down into the valley below us. No place for switchbacks here. I concentrated on watching my feet, and trying to control my breathing and didn’t look up or down without first stopping and standing steadily. I was proud of my legs that day.
Once at the top of the pass the reward was evident all around me, in every direction. Sitting down, protected from the gusting wind by a couple of courageous shrubs, I caught my breath.
After a few minutes we heard voices the sound of horses coming up that treacherous path. Four beautiful and sweating horses and their chatting, obviously skilled, riders appeared. I was quite amazed by this. The group consisted of a young woman whose family has a cattle ranch not far from the park. Her companions were three men, 2 were Israeli and one was Argentinean. Her family had, over the years, often had foreign agricultural students come and work on the ranch in the summer. This was Sunday. Perhaps she was taking them on an adventure on their day off.
However we were not yet on top of a high point on the ridge, and that was where we planned to have lunch. The journey continued a little further. The ridge itself was broad and fairly flat, and I felt like one of the little people in Gulliver’s Travels walking on the back of a giant whale or something.
Up we went to the appointed summit, which was neither broad nor fairly flat, and with little protection from the fierce wind. There is something frighteningly overwhelming for me about being up so high with vast mountains and valleys literally as far as the eye can see. The impulse to shut out the experience and move swiftly down to lower ground is strong. I remember experiencing this the last time I was in Waterton, and the sense of disappointment I felt afterwards knowing that I hadn’t had the courage to let the immensity of it really penetrate. This time I wanted to do it differently so I sat there for quite a while, speaking to Eric about the experience. I feel as though by being up there I must confront my mortality, my ultimate human frailty. I feel so small and powerless against the huge forces of nature. It’s as though in this place I come face to face with and must acknowledge a truth that isn’t very visible to me when I’m in my ordinary life.
We could have continued on and done a circuit but there was a particularly rough section coming up and we didn’t know quite what to expect, so decided to go back the way we had come. It had been challenge enough.
The next day we rested and later in the afternoon took a drive to Red Rock Canyon. On the way we were lucky enough to see a mother bear and a cub feeding quite close to the road. She seemed anxious and alert, not really happy to have us viewing her, being a protective mother bear, and putting on weight ready for the winter.
There was a noticeable difference in the weather and in the number of daylight hours, since we had driven through the Rockies in early July.
We awoke the next morning to rain and cloud-shrouded mountains, with fresh snow in places, so we took it easy and only after lunch did we head over to the St. Mary Visitor Centre to plan some hiking. That afternoon we drove to Many Glacier and from there began a short hike to Fishercap Lake hoping to see a moose, but no luck there. On the way though we had our first black bear sighting, 2 small dots on a hill that became an adult and a juvenile with the help of binoculars. Our trail continued past Red Rock Lake to the Red Rock Falls, a vivid deep red mudstone.
By the time we were driving back to our camp it was getting dark but we were lucky enough to see a handsome male moose with an impressive rack by a lake’s edge. A bit further away, a grizzly bear (or were there 2?) was feeding in among some bushes. It was fairly dark by this time and I could only just make him out even with my trusty binoculars.
The next morning the air was cold though the day was sunny. To reach the trailhead of the Highline Trail, our planned hike, we drove about a third of the way along the scenic 50-mile Going To The Sun Road until we reached Logan’s Pass, where the road crosses the Continental Divide.
Going To The Sun Road is a scenic route through the Glacier National Park between the west entrance near West Glacier and the east entrance at St. Mary. It was completed in the 1930’s and is winding, narrow and steep. Trailers are not allowed to travel on it hence we had to take the longer route the day before.
The Continental Divide extends through both Glacier and Waterton Lakes National Parks and beyond to Crowsnest Pass. This is the dividing line of high ground; on the one side of which the rivers flow to the Pacific and on the other side the rivers flow to the Atlantic.
At Logan’s Pass we were already above the tree line and we followed along a narrow rock ledge for some way, against the side of the steep mountain. From this ledge we could look way down and far out at a wide-open vista of mountains in all directions.
As the trail continued it kept at a fairly even gradient, and some way along we were introduced to wild huckleberries by a couple of girls who were picking this local specialty. They’re popular with the bears too I’m sure.
On a distant hillside we watched Long Horn sheep grazing and further along followed the movement of mountain goats down into a valley.
We had lunch high up on an alpine vantage point with a magnificent view and watched as the group of about 20 mountain goats, which included about half a dozen young ones, came closer. They seemed quite unperturbed by our interest, so we were able to get very close and watch them feeding on the low growing vegetation. In late summer groups of females and young ones stay together, feeding up in preparation for winter. I’m assuming this was such a group.
The handsome males, which have great furry beards and straight black horns, are solitary or cluster in small groups, (females have shorter black horns).
These animals are quite large and strong looking with glorious thick white fur. Their sturdy back legs looked particularly impressive to me, needed I’m sure, for good balance and for leaping from rock to rock.
They live all winter high in the deep snow of the mountains, feeding on lichens and whatever else they can find. The veins in their feet are able to enlarge to prevent them from freezing, and the fermenting of the digesting food in the first of their 2 stomachs also helps them to withstand the below zero temperatures.
I felt privileged to have been able to watch them so closely go about being beautiful mountain goats.
Next morning we left St. Mary and made a hassle-free crossing into Alberta at the Chief Mountain Border. Checking what kind of bear spray we had seemed to be the only concern. Apparently some varieties can be used as weapons! Nasty! Nasty!
We established ourselves at the campground in the little town of Waterton, which is nestled on the edge of the large and beautiful Waterton Lake and planned to spend several days. A herd of mule deer has grown accustomed to grazing in the campground and around the town, taking shelter against the wind and rain by huddling together up against the walls of buildings. Easily recognized by their large ears, which stand straight up, ever alert to any alarm, and black-tipped, white tails, they moved contentedly about the grassy campsite, feeding, thereby eliminating any need for lawn mowing.
I was thrilled to be revisiting Waterton. We’d been there 4 years ago, with Matt and Alan and cousin Dave, my first experience of The Rockies, and I had lovely memories of beautiful hikes and lots of laughs.
On our first afternoon we hiked the Bertha Falls and Bertha Lake Trail, which begins right at the campsite. The round trip is about 15 km and it took us about 5 hours. The first part of the trail has magnificent views overlooking Upper Waterton Lake, which extends south and into Glacier Park in Montana. The trail then begins to climb up to a lovely view of the Lower Bertha Falls, followed by switchbacks taking one up more steeply past the Upper Falls, which we caught but a glimpse of, to the alpine lake. Having a snack beside the water were a group of about 5 people and their horses. Eric and I continued on to do the gently rolling 4.5 km trail that circles the lake. “Bertha Lake is a beautiful, deep-blue lake set beneath tremendous cliffs.” Steep avalanche slopes come straight down to the water’s edge. We noticed a few campsites hidden away but close to the lake and I thought how great it would be to spend a couple of days up there taking quick dips in the perfectly clear water (if it ever got warm enough) and enjoying the alpine wild flowers and the sun.
On the way down we came upon the group of riders again and as we came up behind them I marveled at how the horses managed to negotiate the narrow rocky path.
Egg sandwiches and power bars were the sustenance for a longer, more strenuous hike the following day. Our plan was to climb up onto, and walk some of the way along the Akamina Ridge. To get to the trailhead we drove along the Akamina Parkway. From there we began by walking the 1.5 km, which took us up to the Akamina Pass and to the border with BC. Now we were entering the Akamina – Kishenena Provincial Park, which abuts Waterton, and we made our way along the Wall Lake Trail, which rose gently through forest. There were small patches of fresh snow here and there; reminding us that summer is a very short season in the mountains. There can be snow for eight months of the year. Once we reached Wall Lake we could look way up high towards the heavens and see the Akamina Ridge long and strangely flat. As I contemplated the sight I couldn’t quite believe that this was really where we were headed.
We walked around the north end of the lake and then began the very steep climb up to Bennett Pass. I have to say that this section was The Most Challenging piece of hiking I have ever encountered. I had done some pretty tricky scrambling up and over rocks, and walked some pretty steep terrain, but this was extremely hard going and it felt as though it would never end. The narrow path, covered in loose gravel that was inclined to roll under foot if you didn’t play close attention, ascended sharply and mercilessly. We were walking up the side of a mountain, which disappeared down into the valley below us. No place for switchbacks here. I concentrated on watching my feet, and trying to control my breathing and didn’t look up or down without first stopping and standing steadily. I was proud of my legs that day.
Once at the top of the pass the reward was evident all around me, in every direction. Sitting down, protected from the gusting wind by a couple of courageous shrubs, I caught my breath.
After a few minutes we heard voices the sound of horses coming up that treacherous path. Four beautiful and sweating horses and their chatting, obviously skilled, riders appeared. I was quite amazed by this. The group consisted of a young woman whose family has a cattle ranch not far from the park. Her companions were three men, 2 were Israeli and one was Argentinean. Her family had, over the years, often had foreign agricultural students come and work on the ranch in the summer. This was Sunday. Perhaps she was taking them on an adventure on their day off.
However we were not yet on top of a high point on the ridge, and that was where we planned to have lunch. The journey continued a little further. The ridge itself was broad and fairly flat, and I felt like one of the little people in Gulliver’s Travels walking on the back of a giant whale or something.
Up we went to the appointed summit, which was neither broad nor fairly flat, and with little protection from the fierce wind. There is something frighteningly overwhelming for me about being up so high with vast mountains and valleys literally as far as the eye can see. The impulse to shut out the experience and move swiftly down to lower ground is strong. I remember experiencing this the last time I was in Waterton, and the sense of disappointment I felt afterwards knowing that I hadn’t had the courage to let the immensity of it really penetrate. This time I wanted to do it differently so I sat there for quite a while, speaking to Eric about the experience. I feel as though by being up there I must confront my mortality, my ultimate human frailty. I feel so small and powerless against the huge forces of nature. It’s as though in this place I come face to face with and must acknowledge a truth that isn’t very visible to me when I’m in my ordinary life.
We could have continued on and done a circuit but there was a particularly rough section coming up and we didn’t know quite what to expect, so decided to go back the way we had come. It had been challenge enough.
The next day we rested and later in the afternoon took a drive to Red Rock Canyon. On the way we were lucky enough to see a mother bear and a cub feeding quite close to the road. She seemed anxious and alert, not really happy to have us viewing her, being a protective mother bear, and putting on weight ready for the winter.
OUR DRIVE FROM SPOKANE TO GLACIER
8th – 9th September OUR DRIVE FROM SPOKANE TO GLACIER
On Monday 8th September we left the semi-arid Spokane, and our drive took us into Northern rural Idaho, known for its potatoes, and through the small towns of Coeur d’Alene, Sandpoint and Bonners Ferry.
In the early afternoon we crossed into Montana, and a more mountainous terrain replaced the farm fields of Idaho. A sign on the road explained that ahead there would be crosses marking the places where there had been fatal accidents. This came as an effective reminder and made me think of the many people whose lives have been affected by tragedies of this sort.
This beautiful drive also made me think of horse riding in the mountains (from the movies I expect) and I felt an inexplicable sort of sense of belonging although I’ve never been to Montana before. It did also remind me of my dear old school friend Bookey who taught me to ride many years ago in the Vumba Mountains.
For some way the road follows the path of the Kootenai River as it travels south through the Kootenai National Forest. We stopped at a viewpoint and then took a short hike down to the wide, fast flowing river, a series of staggered falls caused by various angled rock drops, and a pedestrian swing bridge.
It was almost dark when we finally stopped to lay our heads down at the Logan State Park, having lost an hour in the crossing of a time zone, and it wasn’t long before we were tucked up in bed.
This was a beautiful place to wake up to on a clear sunny chilly morning. We were beside the Thompson Lake, one of several lakes along that road, and the park, which has cabins as well as camping facilities, is popular with hunters and fishers. It is open all year round, open for ice fishing enthusiasts in winter.
We were headed for Montana’s Glacier National Park, which meets at the international border with Alberta’s Waterton National Park. In 1932 these 2 parks were designated the first International Peace Park. Separate countries administer Glacier and Waterton but cooperate to manage their natural and cultural resources. “The wild plants and animals ignore political boundaries and claim the mountainous terrain on both sides of the border.” The parks which are in the Rockies, have been designated a joint World Heritage Site. “This recognition by the world community celebrates the International Peace Park’s rich geologic history, biological diversity, and dynamic cultural heritage.”
We entered the park at West Glacier and traveled around its southern extremity, across to East Glacier. This took us up to Marias Pass and the Continental Divide, where we stopped to take in the memorial to a certain John F. Stevens. The Blackfeet Nation has lived in these mountains for centuries and still does so today. They were the first to use horses as a means of transportation. Historically they were a very fierce people and no other peoples dared to try to find a way across the mountains, until, in the late 1800’s the civil engineer John Stevens, looking for a way through for the rail line, found this pass which was later named Marias Pass.
From East Glacier we traveled north to a small place called St. Mary where we found a KOA campground and booked in for 3 nights.
On Monday 8th September we left the semi-arid Spokane, and our drive took us into Northern rural Idaho, known for its potatoes, and through the small towns of Coeur d’Alene, Sandpoint and Bonners Ferry.
In the early afternoon we crossed into Montana, and a more mountainous terrain replaced the farm fields of Idaho. A sign on the road explained that ahead there would be crosses marking the places where there had been fatal accidents. This came as an effective reminder and made me think of the many people whose lives have been affected by tragedies of this sort.
This beautiful drive also made me think of horse riding in the mountains (from the movies I expect) and I felt an inexplicable sort of sense of belonging although I’ve never been to Montana before. It did also remind me of my dear old school friend Bookey who taught me to ride many years ago in the Vumba Mountains.
For some way the road follows the path of the Kootenai River as it travels south through the Kootenai National Forest. We stopped at a viewpoint and then took a short hike down to the wide, fast flowing river, a series of staggered falls caused by various angled rock drops, and a pedestrian swing bridge.
It was almost dark when we finally stopped to lay our heads down at the Logan State Park, having lost an hour in the crossing of a time zone, and it wasn’t long before we were tucked up in bed.
This was a beautiful place to wake up to on a clear sunny chilly morning. We were beside the Thompson Lake, one of several lakes along that road, and the park, which has cabins as well as camping facilities, is popular with hunters and fishers. It is open all year round, open for ice fishing enthusiasts in winter.
We were headed for Montana’s Glacier National Park, which meets at the international border with Alberta’s Waterton National Park. In 1932 these 2 parks were designated the first International Peace Park. Separate countries administer Glacier and Waterton but cooperate to manage their natural and cultural resources. “The wild plants and animals ignore political boundaries and claim the mountainous terrain on both sides of the border.” The parks which are in the Rockies, have been designated a joint World Heritage Site. “This recognition by the world community celebrates the International Peace Park’s rich geologic history, biological diversity, and dynamic cultural heritage.”
We entered the park at West Glacier and traveled around its southern extremity, across to East Glacier. This took us up to Marias Pass and the Continental Divide, where we stopped to take in the memorial to a certain John F. Stevens. The Blackfeet Nation has lived in these mountains for centuries and still does so today. They were the first to use horses as a means of transportation. Historically they were a very fierce people and no other peoples dared to try to find a way across the mountains, until, in the late 1800’s the civil engineer John Stevens, looking for a way through for the rail line, found this pass which was later named Marias Pass.
From East Glacier we traveled north to a small place called St. Mary where we found a KOA campground and booked in for 3 nights.
Monday, September 29, 2008
SPOKANE, WASHINGTON
A well-deserved treat during our bike ride with our friends from Spokane. Left to right: Mary, Colleen, Janice, Kevin, and Fred.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
GREY WHALE
One old grey admiring another. Location Botanical Beach with the Olympic Mountains of Washington State in the background.
Monday, September 22, 2008
GOODBYE TO VANCOUVER ISLAND AND HELLO TO SPOKANE
GOODBYE TO VANCOUVER ISLAND AND HELLO TO SPOKANE
What a very full time we had on Vancouver Island and I began to feel the ache of the goodbye as the days counted themselves down.
We spent a final (until next time) day walking and talking and picnicking in Goldstream Park with Bridget and Don, climbing up to a view point, and then even higher to look at the metal rail trestle over the very deep gorge. Up for adventure we daringly walked along the still active rail line to the middle in order to have a good look way down, down, down. The train wasn’t due till 5pm and it was only 4.30, but it did feel cavalier.
We had a couple of final goodbyes with Mike and Janet as we’d delayed our departure by one day. Our 2nd last night was spent with them having dinner at the Waddling Dog and then back to their home for tea.
During our last weekend we maximised our time with Al and Emi as much as we could. On Thursday evening we had a delicious Cajun dinner at the Blue’s Bayou, overlooking the water. They had just returned from 4 days of sea kayaking among the Broken Islands off of Ucluelet and we got to hear all about it and see the pictures. Friday afternoon we spent walking at Royal Roads, and then back to their place for risotto and sole, yummy, and to meet their friends Sandra and Nicole. On Saturday Al joined us for a final trip to one of our favorites, East Sooke. Here Al gave us our first sea-kayaking experience on a smooth and glassy bay, Eric and I in a double kayak and Al in a single one. From there we walked a section of the Galloping Goose Trail through old growth and around a lake. Sunday morning was breakfast at a very busy Lady Marmalade and then goodbye. Al was fitting in a last blast before school began again, and was heading off to do a couple of days climbing with his friend Mark in Strathcona Park.
We spent our very final evening with Emi and surprised Alan when he arrived home exhausted but satisfied. We’d originally planned to leave on Wednesday.
On the 4th of September, exactly 7 weeks after we’d arrived on Vancouver Island, we hitched up the trailer and turned our noses eastward. We took the 2½ hr. ferry trip from Sidney to Anacortes in Washington State. We were into a new state and beginning the 2nd half of our journey.
Our destination was Spokane, Washington to spend the weekend with our friends Colleen and Fred Brenize.
Our drive took us directly south along the highway #5, through the green forested mountainous area, with the Olympic National Park on the west and the Cascade Mountains on the east. We bypassed Seattle and then traveled south westerly through national forests stopping in Ellensburg for the night.
The road between Seattle and Spokane makes a wide bowl shape with Ellensburg more-or-less at the base. Next morning, moving away from the mountains and still traveling west, the road now went somewhat northwards. With that the landscape changed. It became gradually drier and more desert-like, rather like Kamloops, and the day grew hotter. Where the land was flat enough there were grassy fields complete with irrigation systems, otherwise the round pebbly hills were covered with sagebrush.
It was fun to find ourselves in Spokane, something we hadn’t anticipated or expected to do until a week or so before we left Vancouver Island. Colleen and Fred were so welcoming and once again I appreciated a break from trailer life.
Saturday was a beautiful day and Colleen and Fred had planned a day of bike riding for us with their friends Janice and Kevin. We all headed out to bike a section of the Trail of the Coeur d’Elene in northern Idaho. This trail goes along an old rail right-of-way and is a total of 72 miles in length. The section that we rode went across a cleverly constructed bridge that went up in wide steps, reaching a high point so that tall pleasure boats could pass under it, and then down again in wide steps. This makes the pedaling easier, if you’re skilled at changing gears. In this way we crossed a narrow piece of the lake, and then went west along the shore for about 10 miles. We lunched at a little lakeside pub and stopped for ice cream cones at a handy juncture on the return trip. By the time we reached the cars again I was feeling well exercised and a little less wobbly. I hadn’t ridden a bike for many years so it took some getting used to. However I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and am keen to do some more of it.
Kevin and Janice are very special people who went to Zimbabwe with Colleen, Fred and Bryan earlier this year, despite the political chaos and potential danger. They seemed open to the experience and were moved by the desperate situation and the plight of the people trying to cope, as well as appreciating its wonderful aspects.
Sunday included a “from scratch” pancake breakfast, a gentle hike along the river and a walk through a bit of the downtown. We finished off the day with a lively dinner at a restaurant called Twigs. Somehow, not-mentioning-any-names, our server had the impression that it was Eric’s birthday, so his meal included with a birthday treat, a chocolate brownie and cream, on the house, which we all shared, of course.
What a very full time we had on Vancouver Island and I began to feel the ache of the goodbye as the days counted themselves down.
We spent a final (until next time) day walking and talking and picnicking in Goldstream Park with Bridget and Don, climbing up to a view point, and then even higher to look at the metal rail trestle over the very deep gorge. Up for adventure we daringly walked along the still active rail line to the middle in order to have a good look way down, down, down. The train wasn’t due till 5pm and it was only 4.30, but it did feel cavalier.
We had a couple of final goodbyes with Mike and Janet as we’d delayed our departure by one day. Our 2nd last night was spent with them having dinner at the Waddling Dog and then back to their home for tea.
During our last weekend we maximised our time with Al and Emi as much as we could. On Thursday evening we had a delicious Cajun dinner at the Blue’s Bayou, overlooking the water. They had just returned from 4 days of sea kayaking among the Broken Islands off of Ucluelet and we got to hear all about it and see the pictures. Friday afternoon we spent walking at Royal Roads, and then back to their place for risotto and sole, yummy, and to meet their friends Sandra and Nicole. On Saturday Al joined us for a final trip to one of our favorites, East Sooke. Here Al gave us our first sea-kayaking experience on a smooth and glassy bay, Eric and I in a double kayak and Al in a single one. From there we walked a section of the Galloping Goose Trail through old growth and around a lake. Sunday morning was breakfast at a very busy Lady Marmalade and then goodbye. Al was fitting in a last blast before school began again, and was heading off to do a couple of days climbing with his friend Mark in Strathcona Park.
We spent our very final evening with Emi and surprised Alan when he arrived home exhausted but satisfied. We’d originally planned to leave on Wednesday.
On the 4th of September, exactly 7 weeks after we’d arrived on Vancouver Island, we hitched up the trailer and turned our noses eastward. We took the 2½ hr. ferry trip from Sidney to Anacortes in Washington State. We were into a new state and beginning the 2nd half of our journey.
Our destination was Spokane, Washington to spend the weekend with our friends Colleen and Fred Brenize.
Our drive took us directly south along the highway #5, through the green forested mountainous area, with the Olympic National Park on the west and the Cascade Mountains on the east. We bypassed Seattle and then traveled south westerly through national forests stopping in Ellensburg for the night.
The road between Seattle and Spokane makes a wide bowl shape with Ellensburg more-or-less at the base. Next morning, moving away from the mountains and still traveling west, the road now went somewhat northwards. With that the landscape changed. It became gradually drier and more desert-like, rather like Kamloops, and the day grew hotter. Where the land was flat enough there were grassy fields complete with irrigation systems, otherwise the round pebbly hills were covered with sagebrush.
It was fun to find ourselves in Spokane, something we hadn’t anticipated or expected to do until a week or so before we left Vancouver Island. Colleen and Fred were so welcoming and once again I appreciated a break from trailer life.
Saturday was a beautiful day and Colleen and Fred had planned a day of bike riding for us with their friends Janice and Kevin. We all headed out to bike a section of the Trail of the Coeur d’Elene in northern Idaho. This trail goes along an old rail right-of-way and is a total of 72 miles in length. The section that we rode went across a cleverly constructed bridge that went up in wide steps, reaching a high point so that tall pleasure boats could pass under it, and then down again in wide steps. This makes the pedaling easier, if you’re skilled at changing gears. In this way we crossed a narrow piece of the lake, and then went west along the shore for about 10 miles. We lunched at a little lakeside pub and stopped for ice cream cones at a handy juncture on the return trip. By the time we reached the cars again I was feeling well exercised and a little less wobbly. I hadn’t ridden a bike for many years so it took some getting used to. However I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and am keen to do some more of it.
Kevin and Janice are very special people who went to Zimbabwe with Colleen, Fred and Bryan earlier this year, despite the political chaos and potential danger. They seemed open to the experience and were moved by the desperate situation and the plight of the people trying to cope, as well as appreciating its wonderful aspects.
Sunday included a “from scratch” pancake breakfast, a gentle hike along the river and a walk through a bit of the downtown. We finished off the day with a lively dinner at a restaurant called Twigs. Somehow, not-mentioning-any-names, our server had the impression that it was Eric’s birthday, so his meal included with a birthday treat, a chocolate brownie and cream, on the house, which we all shared, of course.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
MARINE LIFE - THE VERY SMALL AND THE VERY LARGE
MARINE LIFE – THE VERY SMALL AND THE VERY LARGE
My yearning to see the huge mammals of the ocean led me to take a whale-watching excursion. Twelve of us left Sidney harbour with our guide, for a 3hr. outing, donned in heavy, bright red, oversize overalls called stay-warm Cruiser suits. Now I know what it feels like to be a teenage boy wearing shorts with a crotch that reaches the knees!
We traveled north up the Strait of Georgia for an hour in an open aluminum whale watching boat, toward a position roughly adjacent to Vancouver, where we were hoping to find two pods of Orcas. The noise of the engine and the wild wind made conversation difficult but I did manage to talk to the woman beside me. Her parents are now living on Vancouver Island after 20 years in California. She is working on her doctorate in Hawaii and studying Diplomacy and the Military. She was very articulate and interesting to talk too. One of the courses she has taken that perked my curiosity was the study of genocide.
We did indeed see the 2 orca pods from about 100 feet away. The boats are now mandated to keep a good respectful distance away so as not to disturb or distress the animals. One group of about 10 was apparently in their rest mode, which is how whales sleep. While in this resting mode, whales, which have 2 brains, with one asleep while the other stays awake (undoubtedly a gross simplification), keep close to each other and close to the surface of the water. They will periodically take breaths and spurt small fountains of water into the air, while their bodies rise and fall in a graceful wave-like motion, gently nudging against each other.
This was a particularly interesting sight as I was able to get a fairly good view of them, unfortunately not having adapted yet to seeing through water.
After an hour or so the engine came on again and we made our way back in and out of the islands, passing some seals sunning themselves on rocks along the way.
The next morning Eric and I set off early with a plan to visit Botanical Beach. Botanical Beach is a place that Alan had taken me to when I’d visited several years ago, and I wanted Eric to see it. It is not far from Port Renfrew on the west coast of the island and you get there by driving along the Sooke road. It is important to get there at low tide as the lure of the place are the many rock pools, home to all kinds of marine wonders. We weren’t sure how long it would take us to get there and in point of fact we had time for a hearty breakfast in the little town of Port Renfrew.
There is a short walk down to the rocky beach and once there you can meander along and explore, answering only to your own whim. One is encouraged to tread carefully mindful of all the fragile marine life forms.
At first it doesn’t look as though there is very much of interest, just a bunch of barnacles one might think. But barnacles too are an important park of this eco-system and don’t want to be trodden upon. If you stand still for a bit you may begin to notice movement and see the tiny hermit crabs busily bustling about, and lots of little fish just an inch or two in length, swimming in the shallow pools.
On the rocks, still dripping from the retreating water, well disguised but in abundance none-the-less, are countless small anemones. It is in the larger pools that you can see the larger anemones, luminous in their oranges and greens, alongside ochre and red sun stars (or starfish as I know them) of different sizes, and purple sea urchins.
Then there are all the things I didn’t recognize or didn’t even see.
At one point, as we made our way gradually along the beach, and the tide was beginning to come in, Eric called out “There’s a whale!” Sure enough, not very far from shore where the bull kelp was bobbing on the surface and between rocky outcrops, was a Grey Whale clearly visible and wonderful to watch with the help of binoculars. A little further out were several more. People were gathering to watch and so were small fishing boats. I gathered from conversations that it is not uncommon for Grey Whales to come close to shore at this time of year, to feed. I stood transfixed and we watched for 2 hours as this baleen whale rose up and then dove down, displaying its huge back and the long ridge of its spine. There were many comical moments when it came up adorned in great lengths of bull kelp. A couple of times it flipped its impressive tail for us to see.
I do not want to diminish the thrill of watching the orcas of the day before, but there was something truly special about the close up view of the grey whale.
I felt lucky and grateful for the powerful experience of the presence of this beautiful intelligent marine mammal. There is so much I don’t know about them.
Finally we dragged ourselves away and began to make our way back to the car. On the drive home we stopped off at China Beach, a pristine sandy beach, a perfect place to swim. Next time I’ll have to come better prepared for that. We sat on a log on the beach for a while watching the waves and the changing sky, and in the distance saw the telltale spurt of whales as they made their way south.
It had been another perfect day.
My yearning to see the huge mammals of the ocean led me to take a whale-watching excursion. Twelve of us left Sidney harbour with our guide, for a 3hr. outing, donned in heavy, bright red, oversize overalls called stay-warm Cruiser suits. Now I know what it feels like to be a teenage boy wearing shorts with a crotch that reaches the knees!
We traveled north up the Strait of Georgia for an hour in an open aluminum whale watching boat, toward a position roughly adjacent to Vancouver, where we were hoping to find two pods of Orcas. The noise of the engine and the wild wind made conversation difficult but I did manage to talk to the woman beside me. Her parents are now living on Vancouver Island after 20 years in California. She is working on her doctorate in Hawaii and studying Diplomacy and the Military. She was very articulate and interesting to talk too. One of the courses she has taken that perked my curiosity was the study of genocide.
We did indeed see the 2 orca pods from about 100 feet away. The boats are now mandated to keep a good respectful distance away so as not to disturb or distress the animals. One group of about 10 was apparently in their rest mode, which is how whales sleep. While in this resting mode, whales, which have 2 brains, with one asleep while the other stays awake (undoubtedly a gross simplification), keep close to each other and close to the surface of the water. They will periodically take breaths and spurt small fountains of water into the air, while their bodies rise and fall in a graceful wave-like motion, gently nudging against each other.
This was a particularly interesting sight as I was able to get a fairly good view of them, unfortunately not having adapted yet to seeing through water.
After an hour or so the engine came on again and we made our way back in and out of the islands, passing some seals sunning themselves on rocks along the way.
The next morning Eric and I set off early with a plan to visit Botanical Beach. Botanical Beach is a place that Alan had taken me to when I’d visited several years ago, and I wanted Eric to see it. It is not far from Port Renfrew on the west coast of the island and you get there by driving along the Sooke road. It is important to get there at low tide as the lure of the place are the many rock pools, home to all kinds of marine wonders. We weren’t sure how long it would take us to get there and in point of fact we had time for a hearty breakfast in the little town of Port Renfrew.
There is a short walk down to the rocky beach and once there you can meander along and explore, answering only to your own whim. One is encouraged to tread carefully mindful of all the fragile marine life forms.
At first it doesn’t look as though there is very much of interest, just a bunch of barnacles one might think. But barnacles too are an important park of this eco-system and don’t want to be trodden upon. If you stand still for a bit you may begin to notice movement and see the tiny hermit crabs busily bustling about, and lots of little fish just an inch or two in length, swimming in the shallow pools.
On the rocks, still dripping from the retreating water, well disguised but in abundance none-the-less, are countless small anemones. It is in the larger pools that you can see the larger anemones, luminous in their oranges and greens, alongside ochre and red sun stars (or starfish as I know them) of different sizes, and purple sea urchins.
Then there are all the things I didn’t recognize or didn’t even see.
At one point, as we made our way gradually along the beach, and the tide was beginning to come in, Eric called out “There’s a whale!” Sure enough, not very far from shore where the bull kelp was bobbing on the surface and between rocky outcrops, was a Grey Whale clearly visible and wonderful to watch with the help of binoculars. A little further out were several more. People were gathering to watch and so were small fishing boats. I gathered from conversations that it is not uncommon for Grey Whales to come close to shore at this time of year, to feed. I stood transfixed and we watched for 2 hours as this baleen whale rose up and then dove down, displaying its huge back and the long ridge of its spine. There were many comical moments when it came up adorned in great lengths of bull kelp. A couple of times it flipped its impressive tail for us to see.
I do not want to diminish the thrill of watching the orcas of the day before, but there was something truly special about the close up view of the grey whale.
I felt lucky and grateful for the powerful experience of the presence of this beautiful intelligent marine mammal. There is so much I don’t know about them.
Finally we dragged ourselves away and began to make our way back to the car. On the drive home we stopped off at China Beach, a pristine sandy beach, a perfect place to swim. Next time I’ll have to come better prepared for that. We sat on a log on the beach for a while watching the waves and the changing sky, and in the distance saw the telltale spurt of whales as they made their way south.
It had been another perfect day.
CASTLES AND GARDENS
CASTLES AND GARDENS
Apparently it is a powerful human impulse to want to be a king of a castle. Some castles are small like a trailer on the road, or a shack in the woods, some castles are bigger like a dream house with a view and some are full-scale castles with turrets and trophies.
We did hear about a castle-to-be, still being dreamed of, on Salt Spring Island, and we visited two others in the Victoria area, that had been around for a while.
Robert Dunsmuir was born in 1825 in Scotland. In 1850 he and his wife Joan immigrated to Vancouver Island taking a contract with the Hudson Bay Company. After struggling for many years Robert to make a living in mining, he discovered a rich seam of coal near Nanaimo in 1869, and ultimately made his fortune becoming a very wealthy coal baron.
Craigdarroch Castle was built for him between 1887-1890 on a hill overlooking the City of Victoria (and also overlooking Alan and Emi’s apartment). It “announced to the world that Robert Dunsmuir was the richest and most important man in Western Canada.” Craigdarroch means “rocky, oak place” in Gaelic, an apt name, as the rocky hill on which it is built is part of the Garry Oak ecosystem.
Robert died before it had been completed and his entire estate valued at $15-20 million US$ in 1888 was left to Joan in spite of the oral promises he’d made to his 2 sons. (They also had 8 daughters by the way) This caused great family strife as the sons had both worked in the family business for years. They oversaw the completion of the building of the castle while their mother was in Europe and she moved into Craigdarroch in 1890 living there until her death in 1908. This castle was an example of a “bonanza castle, massive homes built for men who became wealthy because of the industrial transformation of North America.”
When Joan died she left her estate to her 5 surviving daughters and 3 of her grandchildren. In order to divide up the proceeds all the contents of the castle were sold in a 3day auction. Most of the property was divided up into 144 lots and sold, leaving the castle with grounds of about 2-acres. The names of those who had purchased a parcel of the land were put into a draw and the winner, a Mr. Cameron, won the castle. He used the castle as collateral for loans to finance his business ventures. Ten years later he lost the property when he failed to pay his $300,000 bank debt and the Castle became a public building in 1919.
Massive renovations were made and it was converted to a military hospital for WW1 veterans.
In 1921 Victoria College, an affiliate of McGill University, became the new tenants and there were more renovations. By 1946 the school had grown too large to be accommodated in the castle and the Victoria School Board moved in and was there till 1968, when it became an Historic House Museum.
The castle was then gradually restored to the way it had been when Joan Dunsmuir lived there.
It is now owned by the so-called Craigdarroch Castle Historical Museum Society and the Society has slowly managed to track down some of the pieces that were sold in the auction all those years ago, and return them to their original home.
I did find it fascinating to walk through this magnificent stone block building, which spoke of the extraordinary personal wealth and extravagance of a bygone time, and also of a life style that we can now only see in the movies.
The interior white oak paneling which had been pre-fabricated, as well as stairs, doors and window frames “were shipped from Chicago to Victoria in 5 railcars”, and that’s not to mention numerous other local and exotic woods used in the house. The Castle also has one of North America’s finest collections of Victorian stained and leaded glass windows.
Wealth and the thirst for stuff just take a different form today.
Hatley Park is “one of the finest examples of an Edwardian estate in Canada”. This magnificent 565-acre estate was designated a National Historic Site in 1995 and has old growth forests and Garry Oak meadows. It overlooks the Esquimalt Lagoon and the Juan de Fuca Strait and on a clear day the Olympic Mountains in Washington State can be on seen in the distance, a mystical sight. It is on traditional land of 1st Nations people who lived there for thousands of years.
James Dunsmuir, the oldest son of Robert and Joan, as a young man, was in charge of his father’s mining operations in Nanaimo. By about 1900 he had become the Premier of BC and a few years later became the lieutenant governor. In 1906 he retired from public office and was hoping for a quiet life far away from the public eye, after going through a nasty lawsuit over the Will of his father. However his wife Laura had very different ideas. She was an American woman accustomed to the social life of the wealthy. She apparently loved to hold large parties and needed grand spaces for entertaining. She persuaded James to purchase the Hatley estate and to build a castle. The formal gardens and Hatley castle were completed 3 years later and they moved into it in 1910 with their youngest daughter. Like Robert and Joan they had 8 daughters and 2 sons most of whom were grown up by this time.
James stocked the woods on his property with deer and the rivers with fish. He even built 3 fish ladders from the lagoon so that the salmon could come up to spawn. Wanting a life with more privacy he and his buddies would hunt and fish.
He had hoped his oldest son would eventually inherit and take over the running of Hatley estate, but he had wayward ways and was an alcoholic so that wouldn’t work for the old man. Could it have been his way of coping with family strife and escaping the stress of it all?
The younger son was very beloved and therefore being groomed for the role. Hopes were pinned on him to keep the property in the family. Tragically, as a very young man he signed up for the 1st World War and the Europe bound ship he was on was torpedoed. All on board were lost. Both parents were grief stricken but James, bitterly heartbroken, never fully recovered from this great loss. He died just a few years later.
Laura lived on in the castle for about another 15 years until she died.
By this time her daughters all had lives of their own and there was no one wanting to take over the running of this huge estate so once again all the contents were auctioned off.
Curious people came from far and wide to see what there was to be sold and valuable pieces went for very little.
In 1940, the estate was sold to the Federal Government, which established a naval base there. Later it became a military college and was renamed Royal Roads Military College. The college was closed in 1968 and the property leased for $1 a year to what is now the Royal Roads University, which “offers innovative applied and professional programs for people who wish to advance in the workplace.”
We spent a couple of enjoyable afternoons (one on our own and one with Al and Emi) wandering through the gardens and along the many trails that take one through the extensive wooded areas.
In the grand old days on James and Laura there were many Chinese people working in the gardens. Today the university is responsible for the expense of maintaining the property, hence only a dollar rental.
I preferred these gardens by far to the more famous Butchard Gardens, which are much more showy and varied and glorious in every season.
These gardens felt much more like real food for the soul gardens to me with, in some places, a sort of “Secret Garden” feel to them, a place where a child’s imagination could run free.
There are stone walkways and a covered pavilion draped with flowering wisteria in the Italian garden. In the 4 corners are the statues of four appropriately chosen Greek Goddesses.
The croquet lawn (Eric was especially taken by this – happy memories of Malham and Sunday afternoons in Pretoria) is surrounded by perennial gardens with Calla (or Arum, as I know them) lilies and Agapanthus. There are also Angels’ Trumpets (or Moonflowers, as I know them), white and yellow, and banana plants. Both of these must be taken into the greenhouse for the winter and all of the above made me think very fondly of my earliest home.
Many flowers and shrubs that grow happily here on the west coast would not survive the winters in Ontario, or grow much larger, such as the masses of huge rhododendrons.
There is a Japanese garden with soothing babbling brook, pagoda and water wheel, and a walled rose garden with its original sundial, dated 18 something.
I particularly appreciated a wild flower garden sporting an enormous 6ft. thistle (that had to go, I was told), a happy place for butterflies and other creatures.
Apparently it is a powerful human impulse to want to be a king of a castle. Some castles are small like a trailer on the road, or a shack in the woods, some castles are bigger like a dream house with a view and some are full-scale castles with turrets and trophies.
We did hear about a castle-to-be, still being dreamed of, on Salt Spring Island, and we visited two others in the Victoria area, that had been around for a while.
Robert Dunsmuir was born in 1825 in Scotland. In 1850 he and his wife Joan immigrated to Vancouver Island taking a contract with the Hudson Bay Company. After struggling for many years Robert to make a living in mining, he discovered a rich seam of coal near Nanaimo in 1869, and ultimately made his fortune becoming a very wealthy coal baron.
Craigdarroch Castle was built for him between 1887-1890 on a hill overlooking the City of Victoria (and also overlooking Alan and Emi’s apartment). It “announced to the world that Robert Dunsmuir was the richest and most important man in Western Canada.” Craigdarroch means “rocky, oak place” in Gaelic, an apt name, as the rocky hill on which it is built is part of the Garry Oak ecosystem.
Robert died before it had been completed and his entire estate valued at $15-20 million US$ in 1888 was left to Joan in spite of the oral promises he’d made to his 2 sons. (They also had 8 daughters by the way) This caused great family strife as the sons had both worked in the family business for years. They oversaw the completion of the building of the castle while their mother was in Europe and she moved into Craigdarroch in 1890 living there until her death in 1908. This castle was an example of a “bonanza castle, massive homes built for men who became wealthy because of the industrial transformation of North America.”
When Joan died she left her estate to her 5 surviving daughters and 3 of her grandchildren. In order to divide up the proceeds all the contents of the castle were sold in a 3day auction. Most of the property was divided up into 144 lots and sold, leaving the castle with grounds of about 2-acres. The names of those who had purchased a parcel of the land were put into a draw and the winner, a Mr. Cameron, won the castle. He used the castle as collateral for loans to finance his business ventures. Ten years later he lost the property when he failed to pay his $300,000 bank debt and the Castle became a public building in 1919.
Massive renovations were made and it was converted to a military hospital for WW1 veterans.
In 1921 Victoria College, an affiliate of McGill University, became the new tenants and there were more renovations. By 1946 the school had grown too large to be accommodated in the castle and the Victoria School Board moved in and was there till 1968, when it became an Historic House Museum.
The castle was then gradually restored to the way it had been when Joan Dunsmuir lived there.
It is now owned by the so-called Craigdarroch Castle Historical Museum Society and the Society has slowly managed to track down some of the pieces that were sold in the auction all those years ago, and return them to their original home.
I did find it fascinating to walk through this magnificent stone block building, which spoke of the extraordinary personal wealth and extravagance of a bygone time, and also of a life style that we can now only see in the movies.
The interior white oak paneling which had been pre-fabricated, as well as stairs, doors and window frames “were shipped from Chicago to Victoria in 5 railcars”, and that’s not to mention numerous other local and exotic woods used in the house. The Castle also has one of North America’s finest collections of Victorian stained and leaded glass windows.
Wealth and the thirst for stuff just take a different form today.
Hatley Park is “one of the finest examples of an Edwardian estate in Canada”. This magnificent 565-acre estate was designated a National Historic Site in 1995 and has old growth forests and Garry Oak meadows. It overlooks the Esquimalt Lagoon and the Juan de Fuca Strait and on a clear day the Olympic Mountains in Washington State can be on seen in the distance, a mystical sight. It is on traditional land of 1st Nations people who lived there for thousands of years.
James Dunsmuir, the oldest son of Robert and Joan, as a young man, was in charge of his father’s mining operations in Nanaimo. By about 1900 he had become the Premier of BC and a few years later became the lieutenant governor. In 1906 he retired from public office and was hoping for a quiet life far away from the public eye, after going through a nasty lawsuit over the Will of his father. However his wife Laura had very different ideas. She was an American woman accustomed to the social life of the wealthy. She apparently loved to hold large parties and needed grand spaces for entertaining. She persuaded James to purchase the Hatley estate and to build a castle. The formal gardens and Hatley castle were completed 3 years later and they moved into it in 1910 with their youngest daughter. Like Robert and Joan they had 8 daughters and 2 sons most of whom were grown up by this time.
James stocked the woods on his property with deer and the rivers with fish. He even built 3 fish ladders from the lagoon so that the salmon could come up to spawn. Wanting a life with more privacy he and his buddies would hunt and fish.
He had hoped his oldest son would eventually inherit and take over the running of Hatley estate, but he had wayward ways and was an alcoholic so that wouldn’t work for the old man. Could it have been his way of coping with family strife and escaping the stress of it all?
The younger son was very beloved and therefore being groomed for the role. Hopes were pinned on him to keep the property in the family. Tragically, as a very young man he signed up for the 1st World War and the Europe bound ship he was on was torpedoed. All on board were lost. Both parents were grief stricken but James, bitterly heartbroken, never fully recovered from this great loss. He died just a few years later.
Laura lived on in the castle for about another 15 years until she died.
By this time her daughters all had lives of their own and there was no one wanting to take over the running of this huge estate so once again all the contents were auctioned off.
Curious people came from far and wide to see what there was to be sold and valuable pieces went for very little.
In 1940, the estate was sold to the Federal Government, which established a naval base there. Later it became a military college and was renamed Royal Roads Military College. The college was closed in 1968 and the property leased for $1 a year to what is now the Royal Roads University, which “offers innovative applied and professional programs for people who wish to advance in the workplace.”
We spent a couple of enjoyable afternoons (one on our own and one with Al and Emi) wandering through the gardens and along the many trails that take one through the extensive wooded areas.
In the grand old days on James and Laura there were many Chinese people working in the gardens. Today the university is responsible for the expense of maintaining the property, hence only a dollar rental.
I preferred these gardens by far to the more famous Butchard Gardens, which are much more showy and varied and glorious in every season.
These gardens felt much more like real food for the soul gardens to me with, in some places, a sort of “Secret Garden” feel to them, a place where a child’s imagination could run free.
There are stone walkways and a covered pavilion draped with flowering wisteria in the Italian garden. In the 4 corners are the statues of four appropriately chosen Greek Goddesses.
The croquet lawn (Eric was especially taken by this – happy memories of Malham and Sunday afternoons in Pretoria) is surrounded by perennial gardens with Calla (or Arum, as I know them) lilies and Agapanthus. There are also Angels’ Trumpets (or Moonflowers, as I know them), white and yellow, and banana plants. Both of these must be taken into the greenhouse for the winter and all of the above made me think very fondly of my earliest home.
Many flowers and shrubs that grow happily here on the west coast would not survive the winters in Ontario, or grow much larger, such as the masses of huge rhododendrons.
There is a Japanese garden with soothing babbling brook, pagoda and water wheel, and a walled rose garden with its original sundial, dated 18 something.
I particularly appreciated a wild flower garden sporting an enormous 6ft. thistle (that had to go, I was told), a happy place for butterflies and other creatures.
Friday, September 12, 2008
VISITING ISLANDS
VISITING ISLANDS
There are hundreds of islands in close proximity to Vancouver Island. During our time here we visited Salt Spring Island and the Sidney Spit National Park, which is on Sidney Island. These both belong to the group known as the Gulf Islands.
There are over 200 Gulf Islands, most of which are tiny. They lie in the Strait of Georgia, which is the body of water between Vancouver Island the BC mainland. The 6 larger ones are serviced by BC ferries. Salt Spring Island is one of these and I associate it with the 60’s and the days of flower power when it was a popular home for hippies. Today it is a magnet for artists and artisans, a large number of whom live and work there. It has beautiful fertile farming country and we brought back a jar of delicious organic blackberry jam. It is also known for its spas and alternative health practitioners and as a wonderful place to kayak or hike. There are stunning views of the sea and rocky cliffs as you drive around the island.
I believe it also has its share of eccentrics and we met a couple of them soon after we landed.
We had decided to head first for the highest point on the island and in our efforts to do this, a friendly couple in their little Smart car offered to guide us to a good lookout point. We needed their permission to take the steep winding road up as it did not comply with the provincial safety regulations, and so the people who owned property up there were responsible for it’s maintenance. It did feel like a precarious drive, I must say. The road had next to no shoulder and dropped away steeply to the ocean.
These two also invited us to visit their place and we accepted with curiosity. From what we could gather they owned a large acreage at the top of the mountain and had subdivided the property into lots that were for sale, known as a strata. Their own piece of land was up at the highest point and had a gravel pit on it. The only building on the place was a large double-double garage, which he used as his workshop. What did he do in his workshop? He built train tracks for his small sit-on size train engines, which he had had specially built and he had 4 sets of tracks running into the one end of the workshop. His plan was to make a 2km track around his property, and then he would be able to load up his train with rock from the quarry (or other things) and move it around I suppose. His wife told us that the bigger plan was to build a castle at the very top using the rock from the quarry, which they would live in during the summer. They had hired a stonemason from Scotland to build the castle, and the windows had been ordered from China. Completion would take several years. They were building their own kingdom at the top of the mountain. In the meanwhile they had another house in Vesuvius, a small town on the island.
We thought about June and Rod as we explored the island. Rod’s uncle has lived there for many years, and we wondered where.
We took a short trip on a privately operated ferry to the Sidney Spit from Sidney.
The long, low lying, narrow, gravelly spit runs north and we were able to walk the length of it in the morning, when the tide was low, noticing several large red, beached jellyfish along the way. Later in the day the spit gradually began to disappear as the tide came in, eventually leaving only a golden grassy patch exposed right at the end, like a small fuzzy mound. Roughly at the point where the spit connects to the thicker body of the island, a wiggly arm of land curves out and around north forming a lagoon. In this protected lagoon several hectare of eelgrass grow, which apparently makes it a critical habit for fish, invertebrates and seabirds.
This is a popular destination for bird watchers and we met a couple of keeners, carrying a telescope. I would have loved to spend time with them, they seemed very knowledgeable, but they weren’t looking for any hangers on.
The long sandy beaches here are “the legacy of the long-vanished glaciers.” We noticed several families with young children and I thought what a marvelous place to come for a day of sun and sandcastles and swimming, or to camp. The endless supply of bleached logs, that wash onto the beach are perfect for building shelters or forts.
The island is home to quite a large population of the introduced fallow deer, which have overtaken the native blacktail deer. We came across several groups as were walking along the various trails. There is a long spiritual history here on the island that still continues. The Coast Salish people have hunting rights and spend every winter here hunting deer and ducks and gathering berries and medicines.
Eric and I had fun sitting quietly on the beach watching the antics of an otter. It caught a fish then came running out of the water with it and dashed across the beach and into the bushes. Perhaps it had a family to feed. After a while it returned to the water to do some more fishing.
The time came when we had to leave the otter to its chores and catch the last ferry back to Sidney. It was an open boat and we were chilled through by the time we reached the other end, so stopped off for something warm to drink before returning to our camp.
There are hundreds of islands in close proximity to Vancouver Island. During our time here we visited Salt Spring Island and the Sidney Spit National Park, which is on Sidney Island. These both belong to the group known as the Gulf Islands.
There are over 200 Gulf Islands, most of which are tiny. They lie in the Strait of Georgia, which is the body of water between Vancouver Island the BC mainland. The 6 larger ones are serviced by BC ferries. Salt Spring Island is one of these and I associate it with the 60’s and the days of flower power when it was a popular home for hippies. Today it is a magnet for artists and artisans, a large number of whom live and work there. It has beautiful fertile farming country and we brought back a jar of delicious organic blackberry jam. It is also known for its spas and alternative health practitioners and as a wonderful place to kayak or hike. There are stunning views of the sea and rocky cliffs as you drive around the island.
I believe it also has its share of eccentrics and we met a couple of them soon after we landed.
We had decided to head first for the highest point on the island and in our efforts to do this, a friendly couple in their little Smart car offered to guide us to a good lookout point. We needed their permission to take the steep winding road up as it did not comply with the provincial safety regulations, and so the people who owned property up there were responsible for it’s maintenance. It did feel like a precarious drive, I must say. The road had next to no shoulder and dropped away steeply to the ocean.
These two also invited us to visit their place and we accepted with curiosity. From what we could gather they owned a large acreage at the top of the mountain and had subdivided the property into lots that were for sale, known as a strata. Their own piece of land was up at the highest point and had a gravel pit on it. The only building on the place was a large double-double garage, which he used as his workshop. What did he do in his workshop? He built train tracks for his small sit-on size train engines, which he had had specially built and he had 4 sets of tracks running into the one end of the workshop. His plan was to make a 2km track around his property, and then he would be able to load up his train with rock from the quarry (or other things) and move it around I suppose. His wife told us that the bigger plan was to build a castle at the very top using the rock from the quarry, which they would live in during the summer. They had hired a stonemason from Scotland to build the castle, and the windows had been ordered from China. Completion would take several years. They were building their own kingdom at the top of the mountain. In the meanwhile they had another house in Vesuvius, a small town on the island.
We thought about June and Rod as we explored the island. Rod’s uncle has lived there for many years, and we wondered where.
We took a short trip on a privately operated ferry to the Sidney Spit from Sidney.
The long, low lying, narrow, gravelly spit runs north and we were able to walk the length of it in the morning, when the tide was low, noticing several large red, beached jellyfish along the way. Later in the day the spit gradually began to disappear as the tide came in, eventually leaving only a golden grassy patch exposed right at the end, like a small fuzzy mound. Roughly at the point where the spit connects to the thicker body of the island, a wiggly arm of land curves out and around north forming a lagoon. In this protected lagoon several hectare of eelgrass grow, which apparently makes it a critical habit for fish, invertebrates and seabirds.
This is a popular destination for bird watchers and we met a couple of keeners, carrying a telescope. I would have loved to spend time with them, they seemed very knowledgeable, but they weren’t looking for any hangers on.
The long sandy beaches here are “the legacy of the long-vanished glaciers.” We noticed several families with young children and I thought what a marvelous place to come for a day of sun and sandcastles and swimming, or to camp. The endless supply of bleached logs, that wash onto the beach are perfect for building shelters or forts.
The island is home to quite a large population of the introduced fallow deer, which have overtaken the native blacktail deer. We came across several groups as were walking along the various trails. There is a long spiritual history here on the island that still continues. The Coast Salish people have hunting rights and spend every winter here hunting deer and ducks and gathering berries and medicines.
Eric and I had fun sitting quietly on the beach watching the antics of an otter. It caught a fish then came running out of the water with it and dashed across the beach and into the bushes. Perhaps it had a family to feed. After a while it returned to the water to do some more fishing.
The time came when we had to leave the otter to its chores and catch the last ferry back to Sidney. It was an open boat and we were chilled through by the time we reached the other end, so stopped off for something warm to drink before returning to our camp.
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