Have you ever had a photo that frustrated you with its lost potential? A picture where the image captured wasn’t the one you saw?
This photo (the one below) is one of mine. It’s too far, too bright and too exposed. It doesn’t capture the muffled sound of the surf or the silent flight of sea birds. It doesn’t hint at the rough texture of the sand or the whisper of salt in the breeze. It doesn’t show the serene splendor of the Pacific Rim.
I was ready to launch this in to the trash heap but then thought what if. What if this wasn’t a photo. What if it is was just a picture, a rendered line drawing that captured the highlights and textures. A digital editor could do that.
And so there it is. My featured photo and reclamation of a lost shot.
Surrounded by the natural wonders of BC’s rain forests and wild life, it is easy to appreciate the myths and legends of the First Nations people.
The original inhabitants of the Pacific Northwest relied on oral tradition to record their history and carved totem poles to create a permanent record of events. Typically the totems were carved from the single trunk of a cedar tree. Totem artists often speak of a spiritual connection to the original tree.
“When a great tree is chosen for a totem pole or a canoe, there are ceremonies to celebrate the rebirth of the tree into a new existence. These ceremonies reflect our understanding that there is a spiritual connection between man and tree, that we are all aspects of a greater whole, and that the apparent differences between flesh and wood are insignificant compared to the kinship between the spirit of the tree and the spirit of the carver.” (Richard Krentz, Salish artist. Nov 2012).
The city of Duncan aka “City of Totems”, has one of the world’s largest, outdoor collection of publicly displayed totem poles. They were created in a joint community project with the Quw’utsun’ (Cowichan) people. Altogether some forty totems are placed around the city, on land acknowledged as traditional Quw’utsun’ lands.
In another city Sooke, is an artfully painted fiberglass bear “Kody”.
Legend of the Spirit Bear
Kody was part of a public art initiative and was created by local Sooke artists Gene Sebelius and Bonnie Spencer. He captures the Kitasoo legend where Raven, who created all living things after the great ice age, went among the bears and turned every tenth bear white as a reminder of the time when the world was pure and clean and covered with ice.
As a point of fact, the Spirit bear does actually exist.
In modern science he is called the Kermode bear and lives only in British Columbia’s Great Bear Rainforest. He is not related to the polar bear nor is he an albino. He is a Black Bear with a recessive gene that causes about 1 in 10 bears to be white. Families of these bears can consist of both black and white bears.
A wonderful meet up of myth and science, history and life, coming together in art.
The best way to experience nature is to take a walk.
While exploring Tofino we took a hike to Schooner Cove in the Pacific Rim National Park. The web page said it was a short and relatively easy trail, leading through lush rainforests and over gentle meandering streams.
“How long is it?” I asked.
“It’s not far,” hubby said. “Less than ..” he mumbled into his shoulder as he turned away to get something from somewhere else.
So we walked. It started out easy enough.
Down into the ravine
Across the marsh
But after walking down and around for what seemed like forever, we came to this extended ramp.
At this point, with only the faint promise of surf in the distance, we had too much vested in the walk to turn back. We continued walking, going up and down several more ramps and valleys until we faced the final ascent.
Up and out …
.. Further up
On paper it is only a two kilometre hike. However most of it is climbing up or down stairs. It could have been worse. If there wasn’t a board walk for instance. But then I probably wouldn’t be taking this hike.
How was Schooner’s Cove, the final destination? It was good.
After the walk we went back to the hotel.
Thoughtfully displayed, for our post-walk reflection were these warning signs.
Pacific Rim National Park in Tofino, Vancouver Island. BC. 2017
“It’s the fourth driest city in Canada,” he said. “Summerland is at the edge of Canada’s only semi-arid desert.”
“Kelowna looks like it’s right near there,” I said pointing to Google Maps on my phone. “They closed down the airport due to snow two days ago.”
“But Kelowna is way north of there. We’ll be fine.”
According to Maps it’s a four hour, high-way drive from Vancouver to Summerland in the Okanagan valley. Ample time we thought, to take the morning ferry, disembark at noon, drive and arrive before dinner. That might have worked, except that ..
It was mountain range driving.
It had snowed the previous two days.
After leaving Hope, the BC-1 exit signboard warned of fog and ice on the mountain pass.
Extreme caution and tire chains were required.
I didn’t recall seeing a snow brush in our rental car. I didn’t think there were tire chains hidden in the trunk. I was the trip navigator (Google Maps reader) and with hubby’s assent, we doubled back to Hope and took the slightly longer (30 minutes) but more southerly BC-3 route to Summerland.
After three hours of driving, Maps said that we still had another 259 kilometers and three hours left to go.
I spent my time looking at the mountain views, peering for deer and big horn sheep.
“Pretty scenery,” I said. “I see a deer! But don’t look! Sharp curve coming up ahead.”
By 3pm darkness was falling like a blanket over the winding and steeply descending road. We had forgotten that Daylight Savings Time had pushed the clock back one hour. By 4pm the Maps screen had gone black for the night. It said we still had three hours left to go.
Eventually we reached our hotel in Summerland, nearly six hours after leaving Vancouver. It was pitch black over the lake and distant city lights barely flickered through our room’s window.
But here is what I saw the next morning.
After breakfast we wandered in to the city’s Information Center.
“Oooh, it doesn’t normally snow this much in winter,” the lady with the maps said. “Normally we’re quite dry and warm. It hasn’t snowed like this,” she waggled her eye brows in concentration, “since 1995!”
“What can we do today?” I asked.
“Well, let’s see. The wineries are all closed for the season. Otherwise its a lovely wine tasting trail up through Naramata. And the museum… sorry, that’s closed too. The restaurants … hmmm, probably closed. You could go up Munson Mountain. You’ll see the valley and the two lakes. It’s a very pretty view.”
She was right.
Stretched out below is Penticton, Summerland and Lake Okanagan. On a clear day, we could probably see Skaha Lake. Maybe even Kelowna.
I apologize for taking so many pictures of sunsets.
I apologize for calling them fabulous! gorgeous! stupendous! I apologize for doing the hysterical equivalent of SHOUTING in caps.
I just cannot help myself. When faced with the spectacular splendor of a setting sun, I am overcome with sappy alliteration and I take pictures. I take hundreds of pictures. More pictures than I can use. More pictures than I dare to share.
Forgive me as I share one more.
Davis Bay, Sechelt. British Columbia, Canada. 2017
After years of living in China and South East Asia it was time to come home.
But after a few weeks in Toronto, hubby and I realized we still had the whole of Canada to explore.
Starting with Vancouver Island in beautiful British Columbia. The island is off the Pacific coast line of Canada and USA. It has an unprotected face to the Pacific and is characterized by extreme weather, rugged coastlines and awe inspiring views of mountains, sea and sky.
These pictures were taken at Long Beach in Tofino. It was an unusually warm (12 degrees!) and sunny day in November. Normal weather is cold with constant rain and intermittent periods of more rain. With a dour scowl a local resident told me that “last year it rained every day for four months.” This summer though was a good one. It was a dry and sunny. Lucky for me, a bit of summer hung around.