Mud Bay, in normal BC weather

It had rained hard all the way to Mud Bay Park, but when we got to the parking lot, it had slacked off to a gentle drizzle. We bundled up; I dug an emergency plastic cape out of my bag. (One of those $1 things; awkward and fragile, but it did keep the wind and rain off.) Laurie decided his jacket was waterproof enough; he didn't want to be hampered by flapping plastic. At least he took the big umbrella to keep his camera dry. (Dryish, anyhow; I carried a soft rag and dried it off for him a couple of times.) I had the small umbrella, since I was swathed in plastic.

Umbrellas are stubborn, persnickety things, especially if you need them. How do you hold a camera, manipulate its controls through plastic, and hold a bucking umbrella at the same time? I shoved the handle down my back, inside the jacket. Didn't work; dumped water on my nose. I need three hands.

We walked past the fields to the dike, then along the top of the dike to the other side of the railroad bridge, where the sandpipers hang out. It was wet going; the rain had intensified again.

Mud Bay as Laurie saw it.

Laurie, as I saw him.

Mud Bay, with heron. The mist hides the hills on the far side.

The view was amazing, with a magic I'd never seen here before. The water seemed to go on forever, until it blended into the grey sky; distant trees and hills were mere ghosts in the mist. Everything looked soft, even the dead weeds and the jagged rocks.

Farmlands and the hills of North Delta behind them.

A heron, shaking the water off his wings.

The second heron, posed on a mud spit.

When we got too close, he moved to the railroad bridge.

Wet tracks. The train crosses to Crescent Beach here, on its way down to the US.

We were fascinated by the weeds; with summer past, the colours are dying. Browns predominate. The rain highlighted their architecture, something we usually pass over without seeing.

Tansy, with brown flower heads.

Unidentified weed.

Bejewelled stems.

Hurrying now because someone had turned on the taps overhead full strength, we headed down the trail towards the parking lot. But we stopped to look at the scat, and I scanned the field for birds; we often see hawks here, on both sides of the path. But now, nothing moved. We went on.

Hunting ground. Plenty of small birds and rodents, and a few scrumptious rabbits.

A bit of that hunting ground, up close. It's holding hundreds of water droplets.

Lupins, still green.

Goldenrod in a sheltered spot. Still yellow, but bowed down by the weight of water.

Tansy buttons.

On the way home, with the heater blasting out warm air, and Laurie complaining about wet pants, we passed a flock of starlings, several hundreds strong, blowing from tree to wires to field to fence and back again. Laurie stuck the camera out the window and took photos; photos of starlings through raindrops on the lens.

I got this one through the windshield.

This was fun! Gotta do it again some time. With proper rain gear, maybe.

A Skywatch post.
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