And the meme goes on ...

I've been tagged with the 8 facts meme. I don't know whether to thank Cathe or not. It's sort of like a chain letter, isn't it? But I remember falling forparticipating in the Friendship Bread one, years ago; for a while, every house in the area had a batch going. And it was fun.

So here goes.

The rules are as follows:

• We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
  
• Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
  
• People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
  
• At the end of your blog post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
  
• Don't forget to leave them each a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

So, my 8 facts, randomly chosen, are:

1. I have a pen holder on my desk made of an animal horn of some kind, covered with inscribed aluminum. I have no idea why anybody would do this.
2. I was kicked by a deer when I was a pre-schooler.
3. Sometimes I temporarily manage to break my habit of biting my nails.
4. I have a vintage log-cabin design quilt, quite tattered, on my bed. I don't think it is particularly valuable, but I like it.
5. I have lived in three countries and in villages of less than a dozen people as well as in a city of over 10 million at the time. (Mexico, DF.) I loved both extremes.
   
6. I dream of hang-gliding, but I never will actually do it.
7. I am a night-owl and have always been, from baby-hood.
8. I re-read my favourite books, sometimes many times.

And that's the eight. Next step: tag eight more people. (Will this earn me eight enemies? I hope not.)

Here are 8 from my blogroll:

1. Celeste, from Dzonoqua's Whistle.
2. Hugh, from Lulu Island Blog.
3. Oaksong's Nemeton. Because he is a "once and future goatherd."
4. Carolyn from Roundtop Ruminations.
5. Bug Girl, from Bug Girl's Blog.
6. Cicero Sings, up in Williams Lake. I just discovered this one today.
7. A Mark on My Wall.
   
8. Jeenybeen on Ginkgo Leaves. Because I love his (her?) photography.

And that's it. Whew!

Back to my normal blogging. But not tonight.

Just because...

... I liked these.
Boundary Park, Surrey, Tuesday.

And it's late, and I've been wrestling with code all night. See you tomorrow!

It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is taking photos.

Bella Coola trip, Part VI:

(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V)

The sun always shines in Bella Coola in the summer time. Always. If anything, it's too hot, but the evenings are balmy and long; the sun sets well after 9:00, and dusk lingers on for another hour. Perfect photography weather.

So I told Laurie.

Promises, promises.

It rained off and on that first day; we drove down valley, but saw no mountain peaks because of the cloud cover. We went to the wharf, but it was raining too much to hike to Clayton Falls.

Photo from Nusatsum House B&B.

We did stop briefly near Thorsen Creek, where eagles often are perched on snags visible from the highway.


See what I mean about cloud cover? There are tall, snowy peaks and waterfalls behind all that whiteness.

By supper time, it was raining steadily. And it kept up most of the week. Still, we were there to see the valley; we went out doggedly next morning into the weather.

Saloompt Mountain (pronounced Salumpt) is on the north side of the river. There is a story told about this mountain; once, long ago, when there was a big flood that filled the valley, a chief herded his people onto a raft and tied his rope around a notch in the peak of the Saloompt until the water went down. You can see the mark of the rope to this day.

We didn't see it. But we did get out of the car at the Bailey bridge over the river, to look at the mist. I had found an umbrella, and I held it over Laurie's head while he took photos, getting good and wet myself.

Logs floating down the river, mist and rain.

And a fisherman in rain gear, as insane as we were, standing at the base of the bridge on the far side, casting for trout. He saw us watching him and waved; hail, friend! Isn't this fun?

Good weather for a rainforest, though. The lichen and mosses love it.

Still, we enjoyed our stay. We found little artist's galleries here and there. I bought dried pine mushrooms to make pine mushroom butter for potlucks at home. We managed to see one glacier. Looking for a place up-valley where Laurie could get a drink of water, we ran into an unadvertised shop where a man carved burls into fantastic shapes. We went up to Burnt Bridge and found mushrooms and heard the rocks that always rumble down the creek, the mountain gradually falling into the valley.

And a week later, on a rainy, drizzly morning, we caught the ferry south. And it poured the entire journey.

Oh, but the sun came out, gloriously, for our return down Vancouver Island. That's next post.

Silver wings, golden pouches

Boundary Park, Surrey: A small extension of the Watershed which we hadn't visited before. A tiny "lake" and a long stretch of semi-wooded green space between housing developments, mowed in lieu of paving a walk-way. The neighbours on each side mostly keep their backyards open to the space, and fill them with flowers. Beautiful!

Dragonflies by the lake.

White duck. Escapee?

Rabbit. White "cotton" tail, unusual markings.

And this from Crescent Beach, yesterday: a bumblebee with pouches of nectar.

Just like the fjords of home ...

Bella Coola trip, Part V: Hagensborg Church.

(Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV)

The last day of October, 1894, just before the winter set in in earnest, 120 settlers arrived in the Bella Coola Valley, from Norway, via Minnesota. A difficult time of year to start homesteading; residents have spent the summer building up their stores of food and firewood and now they are hunkering down to withstand the winds storming down from the icy slopes. But these newcomers were determined. And tough.

Their leader was a Lutheran pastor, Christian Saugstad. They intended to set up a "little Norway", where they could follow their beliefs without the controversy raging back in Minnesota.

Jacob Johnsen's house. Photo from Bella Coola Valley Museum

That first winter, they cleared land and built their log cabins, tiny shelters from the cold. Soon they were building in the traditional Norwegian style: solid, squared-off logs, neatly joined with dovetailed joints, built to last. Which they have; we can still see some as we drive up the valley.

By 1904, they had built their church, which they named after the one they had left at home; Augsburg. It is still in use today.

Our hostess is a granddaughter of the first pastor, Christian Saugstad, and lives a stone's throw from the church. She lent us the keys and we walked over.

An old photo from my album, 1980s. Slightly faded.

Simple, unpadded pews, and the original altar at the front.

One window: there are three on each side.

From inside, in the summer, the windows, with their view of the mountain ash covered in berries, almost look like stained glass.

Looking inwards: mountain ash and reflected trees.

Moody reflections.

Apples in my hostess' field; a far cry from those first days.

Vines.

Next Bella Coola post: rain on the Saloompt.

A River Runs Through It

Bella Coola trip, Part IV: Layout

(Part I, Part II, Part III)

Long before we reached the Bella Coola valley, we could see the river. It mingled with the salt water of the ocean all the way down North Bentinck Arm and well into the Burke Channel, turning the current a milky pale green.

(See Google map.)

What turns it that colour is glacier melt. The Bella Coola River is a short one, as rivers go; less than 75 km from its start at Burnt Bridge to the tide flats in Bella Coola. But it is formed by the union of the Atnarko and the Tlachako rivers flowing down from the mountains, both glacier runoff. The glaciers, inching down the rock slopes, grind that rock into a fine powder. In the summer, when the glaciers are melting more quickly, the rivers and creeks of the valley run greenish white.

The tide flats, at high tide. Half river water, half salt.

One of the many creeks, Thorsen Creek, I think. Or Snootli.

The Bella Coola Valley is a favoured tourist destination. No Club Med, very little "entertainment", at least in the summertime; what it offers is scenery, fishing (some of the best in the world, they tell me), wildlife, hiking, historical and arqueological "points of interest" and even some mountain climbing.

The valley itself is about 75 km long, and only about a mile wide at the bottom; a crack in the Coastal Range between high mountains. Nusatsum* (7400 ft.), Mt. Saugstad, the Saloompt, Mt. Stupendous, Table Mountain, Mount Defiant and more; wherever you look, a high peak forms the backdrop.

At the eastern end, the road (there is only one) loses its pavement and crawls up to the plateau, some 2500 feet above, which is accomplished in a few short miles, some at an 18% grade. "The Hill" and the long, lonely drive back to civilization serve as a natural barrier. Most visitors fly or, now, take the ferry, as we did.

I had lived here (up-valley) for 8 years, long before I met Laurie; this was the first time we had made the trip together. There was much to show him.

First, just beyond the ferry landing, is the rock inscribed by Sir Alexander Mackenzie, arriving overland from the East coast in 1793. The end of his trail; from here he turned back because of the hostility of the Bella Bella natives, just down the Channel and perpetual rivals of the Bella Coolas. Hikers still follow his old trail up the valley and on to the volcanic Rainbows (8000 and more feet).

The Rock. Written by MacKenzie with bear grease and vermilion, later scratched in by surveyors.

My daughter's in-laws picked us up at the ferry and drove us to Hagensborg, half way up the valley. Here we would have a house to ourselves and the use of a car for the week. We would see everything!

Weather permitting, of course.Next post: Hagensborg church, Saloompt bridge, etc.
* My story: Nusatsum: A Parable.

Working late, again

Too much work; another of those all-nighters.

Tomorrow, I'll continue with the Bella Coola trip: milky river, insane fishermen (and photographers) and more.

For now, back to the plowing:

Richmond field.

Good Planets are Hard to Find, June Edition # 2

How cunningly nature hides every wrinkle of her inconceivable antiquity under roses and violets and morning dew! ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Fragility and Durability; two sides of the same coin. The most transient, delicate butterfly emerges, flies and is gone, but she leaves behind a row of eggs; and conversely, the most solid, taken-for-granted, ancient ground under our feet will someday crumble.

Robin forwarded this photo, sent by Evan of Virginia; his newborn son. He writes:

"The doctors are still wiping the fluids off of him seconds after birth."

Congratulations, Evan! And long may he thrive!
A little girl comes to grips with impermanence.Bev, of Burning Silo, sends this tiny plume moth, possibly a Himmelman's PM.

And also from Bev, a pair of Delicate Cycnia moths, photographed at her farm this week.
Robin, at Dharma Bums, says,

"I saw this very sweet chickadee pulling fibers from our doormat again. She may be getting ready for her second brood. There is something about the black-capped chickadee that is the essence of cuteness. They are tiny, but have incredible presence."

And this one, from C. Corax, rouses all my protective instincts; a temporarily, I hope, blind garter snake.

She writes,

"When I saw this garter snake, I assumed she was getting ready to shed. But I wonder--perhaps someone knowledgeable about snakes can tell me for sure--whether the snake has actually shed already but is retaining the eye scales. She was very nervous at my approach. Certainly when a snake is blind, even temporarily, it is very vulnerable. If vulnerability is viewed as a sort of fragility, this photo fits the theme."

Yankee Transplant sends this New England reservoir, demonstrating "durability and variety from season to season."
Along the Kamloops - Merritt highway, this dead tree still serves as a handy roost for birds.
A glacier calving brings to mind the fragility of our planet and its climate. From Wrenaissance Woman.
Eggshell china, almost a century old: Japanese Kutani porcelain. So delicate you can see through it to the signature on the back, so sturdy it stands up to a lifetime of tea ceremonies. From Laurie's collection.

Detail of the saucer.

And the cup to go with it.

And also from Wrenaissance Woman,

"Denali, ... one of the sacred places of the earth. Its durability gives me hope that we, and our good planet, will survive the current mess we're making."

It's a Good Planet we have here, a splendid, breath-taking planet. Thanks to all for sending these amazing photos of it.

Next Good Planets will be hosted by SBGypsy, of The Gypsy's Caravan. You can e-mail your photos to sbgypsy AT hotmail DOT com, on or before the Friday after next.

See you over there!

The Sasquatch, in plain view

Bella Coola trip, Fourth leg, Port Hardy to Bella Coola, by the ill-fated Queen of the North:
(Previous posts, #1 and #2.)

So many photos, and we haven't even gotten to photographer's heaven yet...

The ferry trip from Port Hardy, on the northern tip of Vancouver Island, to Bella Coola takes approximately 10 hours, starting with an 8 AM boarding. The first few hours are in open water,
but soon enough we slipped behind Calvert Island into Hecate Strait. From here on, the shore rises steeply on both sides.


We spent most of our time on deck, chasing from one side to another to watch the killer whales and the sea birds.

Blowing steam.

Try as we might, we could not identify these.* They never came close to the ferry, and never stayed in one spot for more than a moment. Our captain told us that auklets nest on the cliffs in this area; these could be them. Or not.

*Update, July 2nd; They're Thick-Billed Murres.

And the Sasquatch: here he is, walking along the shore.
I must admit, I never imagined that one would be wearing a hat and coat, or that he uses a walking stick. But why not?

Laurie was commenting today that he is amazed that no-one else saw him. Maybe if we'd pointed him out, instead of just taking photos...

Nanaimo to Port Hardy: Found treasures.

Bella Coola trip, part II:

The third leg of the journey was by car. We drove up Vancouver Island, from Nanaimo to Port Hardy. A long, hot day, with a deadline at the end; a ferry to catch. We didn't waste much time.

We did stop, however briefly, at a rest stop:

And we spent a good hour in Union Bay. The highway hugs the beach here; a pile of driftwood at the entrance to a garden attracted our attention.Right side of the road.

And left side.

The driftwood surrounds Corry Lunn's shop and garden. She is "a clay sculptor and copper enamel artist. ... Her work incorporates driftwood, slumped glass, found treasures, within her clay and enamel wall pieces." (From her site.) (Joint site with Darrel Nygaard) More glass and found treasures blend with the tangled roots and stumps around the garden, which includes a marvellous table made of one thick, golden, freeform slab.

Corry was very welcoming, encouraging us to loiter in the backyard as long as we wanted. Eventually, though, we drifted into the shop, and remained, Oooohing and Aaaahing. Laurie bought a Raku plate for the wall and a ceramic starfish that I took a fancy to. We stashed them carefully in the trunk and regretfully took our leave.

North again. Another beach:Late in the afternoon, where the highway moves inland, we came across this pond full of dead trees. The orange/brown material floating on the surface is made up mostly of evergreen needles.
Oh, the sasquatch? Sorry, that's the next leg of the journey. But just because I promised, here's a glimpse of his mate in the distance.
The Walker, I always call this photo.

From far, far away, he has walked, a weary way, steadfast through rain and mist; now he faces a long valley, and at the end, the sea, where he can rest and bathe his blistered feet. Where he comes from, nobody knows; nor can they tell what message he brings. He is the Walker.

Photo taken from the now lost "Queen of the North".

Next post: Port Hardy to Bella Coola, by ferry. And a good, clear photo of the sasquatch.