What Light Breaks...

We hiked down to Wreck Beach today, and as we descended the many stairs of the southern trailhead, the sunlight was breaking through the trees, creating incandescent beams that illuminated the mist rolling in from the ocean. And as I sit here writing this post, I thought of how the technological revolution that I've lived through has illuminated and coloured my world.

I basically grew up a nerd. There, I've said it. Yes, I had the frickin' pocket protector, the pens that had multiple colours all-in-one, used a sliderule, and actually built my first calculator from a kit (a Sinclair... anyone remember them?). My first computer was the Commodore PET, a useless piece of shit with a chiclet keyboard and a cassette tape storage device that allowed one to do really basic BASIC programming, and little else.

When I started work in the CATV industry (where I would remain for another 34 years), I taught myself to program cable TV network design using a Hewlett Packard HP-25 calculator, and used the HP programmable calculators until the Apple ][ computer and VisiCalc, the very first spreadsheet came along. At that time, there was a booming business in cloned motherboards and plug-in cards for this system, and I, and my trusty soldering iron constructed a few of them from individual parts.

From there, I remember the next really big thing being the IBM PC, where we had... wait for it... a 5 MB hard disk drive! Yes, you've got that right, a measly 5 MB! But at that time, it was nirvana, dope, the shit! And man, how you had to optimize your programming to make the memory and storage space go the distance. I built a succession of IBM PC clones before computers became mainstream enough to be able to go into a store and choose one off the shelf at a reasonable cost.

Now, I sit on my couch and write my blog on my iPad Air that has 128 GB of storage space. My camera uses 32 GB SD memory cards the size of a small postage stamp, and the files it creates are 24 MB in size... each! I remember when the iPad first came out, I was already using an Apple laptop, having happily abandoned the Microsoft world, and I thought no, that's not something I really need. Then I made the mistake of actually looking at one in an Apple store. Well, that was that! Marcelle was adamant that she didn't want one, but about two weeks later, there we were, picking up one for her.

Now, the iPad basically goes almost everywhere with me. I read my books and magazines on it, I compose music on it, type my novel and my blog posts on it, process images, play games and surf the web. Indispensable! The contrast from the early computers I used is staggering, not just in the storage and speed, but the presentation... remember the mono green and then amber screens we had? Now I see my photos in absolutely stunning high definition, my books in crisp characters that I can adjust for size and display against light or dark backgrounds. I'm simply amazed by it, and yet today's kids will see this as normal. What wonders will they grow up with?

Ah well, enough of the reminiscence, let's segue onto the pictures from today's little expedition. As I mentioned, the mist was starting to disappear as we commenced our walk, but there was still enough to display some dramatic lighting.

 

 

In amongst the usual greens from the sea, we came across another of these peculiar (as I call them) 'jelly-dreads'. They look as though they might be some kind of egg sacks, but I've yet to find out exactly what they are, and no one I've yet asked can tell me. If you, Dear Reader know anything about them, please leave me a comment.

 

Lately, on several of the Pac Rim beaches, we've found car wheels, complete with tires and I suspect they are part of the tsunami detritus as they are replete with encrustations that would seem to indicate a lengthy time in the water.

 

Elsewhere along the beach, I always marvel at the colour and variety of foliage that the Pacific Northwest presents. It is always a treat for the senses.

 

 

 

That's is for today, from life on the edge.

 

On the Boat Again

Monday, we left for a trip to the mainland for some appointments we had there, staying overnight in Ladysmith with my sister and brother-in-law. Early Tuesday, we hauled ass up to Departure Bay to catch the 6:20 AM ferry to Horseshoe Bay. BC Ferries TAP program came to the rescue and paid for our crossings as we were going to see our specialists in Vancouver. I'm not sure just how long this excellent program will last however, as they've already announced they intend to curtail it. Boo!

The morning was spectacular, with almost no clouds, and the temperature balmy. We ate our brekky on the boat and the hour-and-a-half crossing seemed to fly by. We arrived at the doctor's with plenty of time to spare, copped some lattes, and read in the waiting room.
Appointments done, we drove back into central downtown and visited the Apple Store as we wanted to upgrade our iPads. This accomplished (and wallets lighter), we spent some time walking around in the sunshine.

Adjacent to the Art Gallery is one of our favorite cafés, Caffè Artigiano, and we stopped for lattes and lunch.

As we sat outside, enjoying our food and beverages, I noticed an attractive woman who had spotted something sticking to one of her high heel shoes. I'm always a sucker for interesting poses, so I couldn't resist capturing the moment.

After lunch, we headed back to the car, walking around the Art Gallery, which has an exhibition by artist Douglas Coupland. One of his sculptures, Gum Head (a self portrait) caught my eye.

As we had another appointment early Wednesday morning, we stayed at a hotel in New West, and had an amazing Greek dinner at Taverna Greka. The restaurant is situated overlooking the Fraser, and just upstream, the Skytrain and Pattullo bridges could be seen.

As we ate, tugboats escorted log booms and barges upriver. A very talented strolling guitarist played for us and the ambiance and the food was divine.

Next morning, we went to our last appointment, then caught the ferry back to the Island, noshing on the leftovers from our Greek meal. Once back, we loaded up the car at Costco and then hightailed it back the the edge.

Wesley Hardisty: Fiddler on the Rocks - A Mini Review

Last night, Marcelle and I attended the 'Fiddler on the Rocks' concert presented by the Pacific Rim Arts Society at the Black Rock Resort. We had the great pleasure of listening to Wesley Hardisty, a young artist from the Dene First Nation, who lives on Salt Spring Island.

Hardisty, a mostly self-taught twenty-year-old, is a powerhouse musician whose debut CD won the 2012 Aboriginal Peoples Choice Music Award, also played at the 2010 Vancouver Olympics and performed for Royals Will and Kate on their honeymoon. He is described as "a fiddler / guitarist/ composer/ singer, whose unique blend of rock, folk, Celtic and Métis music is compelling and emotional", and this account is certainly true.

His performance last night for an intimate gathering at the Black Rock was mesmerizing. He has an easy stage presence, with an infectious smile and a self-effacing manner that simply disarms you. Soft spoken and clearly moved and appreciative of the audience's very positive reaction, he presented two sets of songs that ranged from lyrical and mournful slower tunes to fast-paced foot stompers, where his bow attacked the strings in intricate percussive motions that explored a palette of sonic nuances.

Traditional, contemporary and original compositions were offered in a masterful and passionate performance. His audience loved every minute and demanded an encore during which Hardisty sat to accompany the fiddle with an intricate two-footed tattoo beat out in time on the floor. The night closed with him beaming to a standing ovation.

Photographer's Notes: While the Wine Cellar Room at the Black Rock is a scenic venue, it is marred by the fact that the performer was placed against the window, and by the complete lack of adequate lighting. This meant that for the first set, Hardisty was virtually a silhouette to those of us in the audience. Even during the second set, when the outside ambient light had faded, the uselessly dim ceiling lights meant that being able to see the artist's expressive face was difficult to impossible.

Because I find flash to be very distracting for live performance capture, these images were very dark, and only because I shot RAW and exposed for the outside lighting was I able to post-process them to bring up the detail in the shadows in order to get something usable.

Technical issues aside, the evening was magical, and Wesley Hardisty is a spectacular talent, whose forte is not simply the mastery of his instrument, but being able to charm and relate to his audiences. Bravo!

 

 

In Appreciation of Dogs

Marcelle's sister, Denise, visited us today with her dog, Ruby, and seeing Ruby again, I thought, Dear Reader, that a discussion of dogs was in order. Faithful friend and companion, the dog has been at man's side for millennia. But what is it about dogs that makes them such marvelous company?

As puppies, they are adorable to the point of irresistible, all paws, licking tongue and an appendage at the rear whose function seems to be to remove anything not bolted down from the coffee table. And teeth... mustn't forget the teeth. Some dogs go just a bit overboard in this department, gnawing everything in sight.

I recall when my sister and I were growing up, my parents, rather unwisely, bought a beagle pup, whom we named Patch. Patch distinguished himself in many ways, such as regularly escaping the leash and running amok, only to be coaxed back within mere inches before bounding merrily away, while I (it was always my job to "go and get that bloody animal"), stood stupidly, leash in hand, holding back tears of frustration. The end came for Patch after my father came home to find the "bloody animal" had devoured the entire arm of our living room sofa, rendering it to drifted piles of splinters and stringy bits of couch fabric. Soon after this Patch moved on to a farm, a locale much more suited to the beagle than subdivision domesticity.

Looking back on it, although I love dogs, I must admit to having had spectacularly dismal luck with them. My ex and I lived in several farmhouses, and as such, had quite a lot of animals: goats, sheep, a pig, a number of calves, chickens and a turkey. (Perhaps I should clarify that we did not have these animals in the farmhouse.) Added to this, we also had a succession of dogs that were acquired from various sources that were offering the beasts free of charge. This, of course, should have raised large red warning flags, but that is the problem with dogs... generally, one look at them and you fall in love, and simply have to have them.

One of our first was Freeway, a Lhasa Apso (or as I called it, a half-an-asshole). Freeway was a nice dog, all things considered, gentle and loving, and seemed to consist of a plump roll of fly-away fur with a disreputable flag of a tail at one end, and a set of prominent underslung teeth and boot button eyes hidden deep in the fur at the other. Often, his entire jowls were stained orange as he loved leftover spaghetti, and we used to put a cut stocking over his head to at least keep his ears out of the sauce.

In complete contrast to the half-an-asshole, was a Great Dane named Zeus, who was also free, and thus a bargain that could not be refused. Zeus was a striking dog, caramel-coloured with uncropped ears and tail. Despite the astonishing size difference, Freeway was the alpha, and I can still remember the scene of Zeus standing with a plaintive look as the half-an-asshole literally hung, clamped to a jowl. Zeus developed a rather inconvenient habit of defecating in the house, and naturally it was always yours truly, Dear Reader, that discovered this in the middle of the night. Or more correctly, it was my bare foot that discovered this. The animal could produce astonishingly large piles of shit, and so the experience was not in any way pleasant.

Zeus's height meant that his head was level with the kitchen table, and as you might imagine, this provided him with all manner of temptation, and the rest of us with a morbid fear that your dinner might not be there the moment you turned your back. At one point, he woofled down a pound of butter in under three microseconds. This, naturally, precipitated a night of exceptionally runny and odiferous dumps that littered the place.

The death knell for Zeus was when he scarfed down a large and intricate gingerbread house that my wife and the kids had made for Christmas. It had been high up on the mantelpiece over the fireplace, but obviously, not too high for the "bloody animal". Shortly thereafter, we paid Zeus forward to try his fortunes with another family.

Freeway had one thing going for him though, and that was staying power. He outlasted a good many other dogs that joined our household over the years. Notable among this pack was a Bouvier that, although having a seemingly good disposition, developed an unhealthy desire to eat anything with two or four legs in the farmyard. He would stand outside the pen of Lucy, the pig, following his porcine target with locked eyes, and literally salivate. The downfall of the Bouvier was when one of the sheep got loose, and the dog immediately latched onto its hindquarter and could not be dissuaded to let go. I had to take a two-by-four to the creature to get its attention, and soon thereafter, he was rotated back off the premises.

Then there was Hamlet, a Dalmatian, that I brought home and who proceeded to race around the house at warp nine and made it his ongoing mission to devour every shoe and stuffed animal in sight. This was a dog of enduring stamina and was reminiscent of a windup toy gone amok. He too, was re-gifted out in short order.

I do recall another dog of indeterminate breed, evidently some bizarre cross-breeding experiment involving Rottweiler, Pitbull, and Komodo Dragon, that would hide in its house, growling and glowering at anything and everything. This one lasted all of about two days as it took a run at my son Cameron, and thus earned its walking papers in record time.

Since my divorce, I have been dog-free, with only a cat as a pet. In some ways, this suits me fine as a cat is a far easier pet to care for, not requiring walks and letting it out to pee etc. But on the other hand, as the saying goes "dogs have masters, and cats have staff". There's just not the same devoted attention that a dog gives. There's not all those inane things that dogs do that make them such irresistible animals: the way that when they walk, their back ends seem to want to outpace the front, giving them that curious sideaways motion; the way they cock their heads from side to side; the way they invariably, inconveniently and mortifyingly hump somebody's leg when you have company; just the sheer, downright goofiness of dogs! These are things that a cat simply can't compete with.

Thanks, Ruby, I needed a 'dog fix'!

Killin' Time in Tofino

Our GP, Doctor Pamela Frazee, whom we love, is located in Tofino, and this morning, Marcelle had an appointment set up for 10:30, so we drove up the peninsula and parked near the clinic. Near the clinic... that, of course, should have been the first clue, right? Well, the waiting room, which is a good size was full up, and the receptionist told us that Dr. Frazee had been called the the hospital on an emergency and there could be a 45-minute delay.

OK, this is how it goes here on the edge, and as we're retired, we're also on "Island Time", so we are able to take these things in stride. We opted to go and have a coffee and do a bit of an amble down to the dock and kill some time.

It's a pity that there isn't a trail along the inlet, because it's very beautiful, the surrounding mountains lose themselves in the low clouds, and there is activity on the water to capture the eye.

 

Close in, there were some sea planes getting ready to ferry sightseers on aerial tours, and on the other side of the dock, a gentleman came ashore in a kayak.

 

 

Looking southward, there are more docks offering tours to see whales and bears (oh, my!).

 

On one of these, I spotted a Coast Guard helicopter (I'd dearly love a flight on that baby).

 

As were readied ourselves to head back to the clinic, we stopped to watch one of the float planes roar into motion across the water and then rise into the cool morning air. Eagles yelped overhead, their nonchalant soaring an apt counterpoint to the clumsy mechanics of man.

We ended up seeing the doctor, who had been called back to the hospital yet again, some two hours late, but hey, by the time we were through, it was lunchtime, and we just happened to be near the TacoFino Cantina! As we stood awaiting our delicious orders, my eye was captured by the shoes of some ladies near us. The colours and form were neat, but damn, it irks me that everything these days is covered in advertising!

Ah, well, that's life on the edge!

 

Lost in the Mist

Florencia Bay, or Wreck Beach as it is also known, is one of our favorite Pac Rim beaches. Yesterday, we happened to go at a very low tide (0.6m) and there was more exposed beach than we have ever seen there before. Although the day was sunny and clear, off shore there was a dense fog bank that stretched the entire length of the horizon. On clear, sunny days, we sometimes hear the fog horns from home, and wonder why, but today the reason was graphically demonstrated... I wouldn't not have wanted to be out in a boat!

We decided to head south this time, crossing the stream that bisects the beach not far from the northern trailhead. Usually, one has to wade this creek as it is too deep to walk through with hiking boots on, but because the tide was so low, I was able to ford it in the 'delta' by hopping across the many smaller rivulets close to the surf. Once across, and watched by an eagle perched high above the bank of the creek, we set off down the beach to explore.

The ocean had disgorged a starling amount of detritus in places: huge masses of kelp and other sea greens. At one point, a metres-long strand of kelp, a small anchoring rock at one end and at the other, a floatation bladder, grinned at us.

Curiously, in one smallish area, we found hundreds of pieces of Dungeoness crab shells, as if a great undersea banquet had taken place just offshore and the waiters had swept the remains up onto the beach during cleanup. In the same area, we also saw three medium-sized Sunflower Stars. This fellow below was on his back, so I turned him over in anticipation of the rising tide.

Walking along near the waterline, I am always fascinated to see myriad tiny trails in the wet sand, and with the sun at an oblique angle, they appear as random etchings describing routes with seemingly no purpose or destination.

I am also enchanted by the way the water from the retreating waves and from the fresh water leaching out from the water table form tiny channels and courses in the sand. They remind me of looking down at the landscape from a plane, high in the sky soaring over epic river valleys and flood plains.

 

 

 

The way the light hits the wet sand, throwing off brilliant highlights, looks like you're flying over an island archipelago, shimmering in the sun.

 

The farther we walked, the closer we got to the fog, and soon found ourselves enveloped in a soft grey cocoon, with glimpses of the trees at the back of the beach and the sound of the waves on the other side, the sea itself lost in the opacity.

 

As we plodded on, we became totally surrounded, as if walking through a giant cotton ball. Visibility dropped to just metres.

Every now and then, some small feature on the sand would present itself out of the obscurity and you would reassert that fact you did indeed have a visual sense.

Finally, since there was literally nothing to see any more, we turned and headed back into the realm of the senses.

As is my wont, I did the return trip near the back of the beach in order to get a different viewpoint, and at one place, noticed what I though might be a seal lying on the sand. I was approaching from its back, and as I got nearer, I realized it was not in fact a seal, but a dead Sea Otter about a metre long. Lying outstretched on its back, it was difficult to see what might have been the cause of death, although it looked as if the upper side of its muzzle was bloodied. I didn't want to disturb it as it had already attracted flies and was beginning to smell. What a shame that the very first otter I've seen here has to be a dead one. They are such beautiful and enchanting animals.

By the time we once again reached the stream, the tide was too high for me to do the 'delta hop', and I had to strip off my boots and socks and wade. This is not pleasant for me as I have peripheral neuropathy which renders my feet mostly numb, but enigmatically, remarkable sensitive, so walking on the stones is extremely painful. I did, however, manage to get across with nothing worse than a wet bottom from sitting on the wet sand to put my shoes back on.

All in all, a splendid experience here on the edge!