The old, familiar places ... We're in Campbell River, in the same motel we've stayed in twice before, settled in as though we had never left.
After a long, hot day, breakfast at the ferry landing in Tsawwassen, lunch at an unnamed beach just out of Qualicum, antiquing near Bowser, an accident in Union Bay ( Laurie gashed his leg badly on the car door, and I had somehow left the first aid kit at home) and a forced stop in Courtenay to buy bandages, it was so heartening to see the familiar names slip by: Black Creek, Miracle Beach, Oyster Bay; delights to look forward to this week. And then, supper at "home", and afterwards, a limp down to the cliff top to watch the sun go down, as usual.
|Misty blues of sky, water, and hydrangea.|
|Black treetops against a patchy, streaky sky|
|I never tire of this view; "our" snag, the curving coastline, and layers of pale blue mountains.|
We sat on a bench watching for a long time, just listening to the silence; a whisper of breeze in the evergreens, a murmur of waves on the beach; nothing more. Heaven!
One other event in the day; we passed a pod of orcas in mid-channel, too far away to see more than moving black spots, but the camera has better eyes, even through dirty ferry windows.
|Orca and marker float. No, he's not playing with it.|