Where the road ends

Tyee Spit is less than 5 minutes from my house, by car. A road leads about 2/3 of the way to the end, and stops. There is a parking lot behind us here, but a few cars always park at the very end, where big rocks block the way. I walk to the tip of the spit, at the mouth of the Campbell River, and stand there listening to the splashing of waves on stones, and the whine, roar, and hum of traffic.

Where the road ends, the air and the sea continue. Little floatplanes drone over the hills beyond the channel, roar overhead, splash down, and rumble in to the dock. Another revs up, its song going from bass to alto; then the plane lifts off the water, and the motor settles down to a hum, fading off in the distance. A skiff with a couple of fishermen putt-putts along; someone drops a crab trap before they speed away, the outboard motor howling.

Down channel, I see a fish boat beating away against the current under the cliffs of Quadra Island, a barge with its tug and load of brightly painted boxes. And the ferry is just turning into the landing in Quathiaski Cove. If I wait, I might see a cruise ship sliding by, a city in a white floating box.

For much of the forbidding coast of northern Vancouver Island, these are the main methods of transport; small floatplanes, and boats tiny, small, and huge.

Touching down. Tyee Spit.

One minute later, the next plane lands.

On the far side of the Island, the west coast, the highway stops where the Gold River meets the sea, at the inner end of an Nootka Sound, still 40 km. from the open sea. Here, the Uchuck III, which regularly visits small coastal communities with no road access, ties up; and Air Nootka float planes pick up mail and travellers to be delivered up and down the coast.

Air Nootka plane. This photo taken in July.

The dock next door. Photo taken in March. Same view; still green even in winter, but with more snow on the mountain peaks.

Beside the offices (we stopped in to discuss a possible trip on the Uchuck next summer), a sign advertises the mail run:

2 hour flight, with several stops. $190.

I am seriously tempted. I was on this flight many, many (55+) years ago, on my way south. The landing procedure, spiralling down into the Gold River dock, one wing pointing at the clouds, the other pointing directly down into the water, and spinning, spinning, frightened me so badly that I don't remember any more about that trip.

I should go, if only to prove to myself that I'm no longer scared.

On the other side of the Gold River docks, Western Forest Products machinery herds logs. On land big, toothy machines pick them up and stack them; in the water, tiny, also toothy, nimble tugs sort them into booms for transport.

These little tugs fascinate me. So tiny, so solid, all welded steel; they look like they should sink. But they chug about, slamming into logs, tipping and whirling and thudding, water sluicing over the decks. Nothing fazes them.

I had to look this up twice. 3 seconds - seconds! - after the previous photo. Wham!

And 16 seconds later the log has been rousted out and is on its way to the boom.

The average boom boat measures approximately 16 feet long, 8 feet in the beam, and 4 feet deep. The typical gross tonnage is only a mere 3 tons. (Custom Boat Building -scroll down)

Gold River on the west, Tyee Spit on the east coast.

180 calories

Laurie's pop can airplane, one of two that he bought some 8 years ago at a collectibles fair.

The propeller spins with the least little breeze. But it never goes anywhere.

Just wandering around, taking wild shots at anything that strikes my fancy. Waiting for the rain to stop.

Six red wings over Iona

Kite, Iona Beach Regional Park:

The Red Baron flies again!

And I'm babysitting in a few hours, so that's it for tonight.

Coming up in the next few days: mating bugs, a challenging hike, Devil's club, and Iona's dunes, with birds. But first, I've got to get some sleep. G'night!

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Cold day, hot fusion

It's too cold, at least for the Vancouver area. The weather page, updated a few minutes ago, gives the temperature here as -5.6°C. (22°F.) And we aren't prepared for it; we didn't get the slow decline of temperatures that we have come to count on. The long johns are still in storage.

So we stayed inside, in the warmth, and cleaned desks (me) and messed them up (Laurie).

I sorted photos in the afternoon, and since I was on the topic of rats yesterday, I was reminded of this photo:

Wooden rat line-up, Arnt Arntzen

Which brings me to the artist, and post # 6 about the 2008 Eastside Culture Crawl. (Previous posts: Crawling at the Wilder Snail, Sweeping nudes and other mix-ups, Scrambled Birds, Bugs in the Alley, and Two potters, side by side.)


Arnt Arntzen is a designer of

"mixed media sculpture that demands to be touched, sat on, dined upon and slept on."

The "steel macaroni" (my name for it; sorry, Arnt) that I keep taking photos of (one here), shows the dynamic, sculptural quality of his work. (He calls it "Transflexion".) He takes his inspiration from the qualities of reclaimed wood and found metal, and shows a special affinity for scrapped airplane parts. Scrapped, but not denatured; the tables and chairs he creates with them seem ready to fly, barely harnessed to the ground.

Arnt receives Culture Crawlers in the shop where he works. His tools, machines, and materials are as much on display as the sleek furniture.

Table and bowl. Reclaimed wood, airplane wing section

Propellers, polished and ready to be incorporated into the next piece.

Table, with three wooden drawers.

Glass table, with propeller pedestal trained into fluid curves. Two stools.

Airplane propeller, patterned with the polisher. I think the base of the bowl is also an airplane part.

Bowl, reclaimed wood, with brass "staples" over cracks.

Arnt was having fun this day; a polished grinder.

Detail of equipment.

Another metalworker and furniture designer, just down the street, fuses practicality and flights of fancy, as Arnt does, but with an altogether different result:

Ironside Metalworks sign

Noah Goodis creates security gates and bars, iron furniture, frames, and sculptural pieces, sometimes useful, but, as he says,

"The odd time, there’s something quite invigorating about creating a piece that's only function is to express a feeling, a fact, a thought, an opinion... or, absolutely nothing at all!"

This quirkiness attaches itself to all his creations. For example:

A plant stand. About 5' tall. Quite steady; I touched it to see.

In the bedroom, an "electric shovel", off-centre slab clocks, and a candlestick.

The bed. Welded iron, with integrated "flame" lights. Chair hangers; practical for small rooms, maybe.

On the porch; plant pot refashioned from a part of old machinery.

On his website, go to the "Sculpture" page. Scroll down. And down. Down to the toothbrush holder, and the --thing-- below it. I guess that's what he means by

"a piece that's only function is to express ... absolutely nothing at all!"

And that's a valuable function, sometimes.
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