Morning at Oyster Bay

I went down to Oyster Bay early in the morning, just after sunrise. Sea and sky lay washed in pink and blue light, the land still sleeping, gumweed flowers all half closed, waiting for full sun. A flock of swallows passed overhead, chattering as they went. Then the only sounds were the crunching of my shoes on stones, a faint rustle of dried grasses.

Walking the dogs. I was the second visitor this morning.

Misty hills, a loon and a fish boat.

Light on the water beside the breakwater.

The tide is low. Morning light on seaweed-coated breakwater rocks.

This surprised me. As the pink faded, light streamed down onto one small spot on the water, as if aimed by a spotlight.

The old maple, warmed by pink light.

Tea in the car, then home for breakfast.

A Skywatch post.

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Fui a caminar en Oyster Bay muy temprano, un poquito después del amanecer. El mar y el cielo estaban bañados de una luz tenue, azul y color de rosa; la tierra dormitaba, las flores amarillas de Grindelia seguían todas casi cerradas, esperando a que les tocara el sol, escondido todavía tras las montañas. Una bandada de golondrinas voló sobre la bahía, parloteando mientras iban. Después, los únicos sonidos eran el crujido de mis pies en las piedras, y el susurro de hierbas secas.

1. Una mujer con sus perros. Yo era la segunda persona allí esta mañana.
2. La neblina cubre los cerros y las montañas lejanas. Hay un barco pesquero y un solo colimbo. (Su pareja acaba de sumergirse.)
3. Luz sobre el agua al lado del rompeolas.
4. La marea estaba baja, y las rocas están cubiertas de algas marinas.
5. Esto me sorprendió. El color rosa se iba desapareciendo, pero se enfocaba sobre un solo punto en el agua, que brillaba como si se estuviera quemando.
6. El viejo arce de hoja grande, bajo la luz cálida.

Un post para Skywatch.

 

"Styling" the rocks

 I do love a good rock. This is part of the breakwater at Oyster Bay.

The tide is low. Barnacle colonies mark the usual tidal level.

The long, dangling white streak is gull poop. I had to scramble over the rocks to confirm this. And from there, I arrived down at the outer shore, where I found more dangling rock decor.

Seaweed anchored to the protected side of the rock. Green algae cover the outer sides.

This is a reddish-brown alga, soft and moist, even in full sun, when the rock it's attached to has completely dried. It seems to prefer spots away from direct wave action, and I usually see it growing like this, with each one well separated from its neighbour.

This bit of sponge seemed to have been placed (by the retreating waves) as an element of decor in its own right.

Bit of dried sponge, propped against a driftwood log. As found.

Barnacles, next.

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Me encantan las rocas. Estas en la primera foto forman parte del rompeolas de Oyster Bay. La marca blanca, que parece algo colgado de la roca, resultó ser heces de gaviota. Me tuve que trepar sobre las rocas para asegurarme que así fue.

Y desde allí bajé a la playa en la parte exterior del rompeolas, y encontré otras decoraciones de las rocas; estas son algas marinas marrones. Están suave y flexible, húmedas aun cuando la roca está expuesta al sol y todo alrededor se ha secado. Crecen en la parte más protegida de la roca, siempre con cada individuo separado de los demás. Los lados más expuestos a la acción de la roca están cubiertos de algas verdes.

Y al borde de la zona intramareal, como si se hubiera colocado allí a propósito para decorar el sitio, encontré un pedazo de esponja reseca.

Mañana, unos bálanos.

Inside the breakwater

The breakwater at Oyster Bay is a line of large rocks, barely underwater at high tide, fully exposed only at the lowest tides. The rocks are clean, scoured by currents and wind-blown waves; barnacles crust a few of the more protected ones; here and there along the landward end patches of lichen grow on top.

At the lower tides, at the outer tip of the breakwater, I find anemones nestling in the cracks at the base. And in between rocks, in the blackest corners, there are barnacles.

I tried squinting down one of the cracks between rocks; too dark, too narrow, too hard even to get my head in position. My hand fitted, with the little pocket camera. I set it on flash and took photos blind. Here's what the camera saw.

Mussels, barnacles, limpets, green and reddish algae.

Barnacles and algae. Tar spot (Ralfsia sp. maybe?)

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El rompeolas en Oyster Bay consiste en una linea de rocas grandes amontonadas, apenas cubiertas con las mareas más altas, totalmente expuestas en las mareas bajísimas de verano. Las rocas están desnudas; las corrientes y las olas impulsadas por el viento las mantienen limpias. En algunas, más protegidas, crecen unos pocos bálanos; en el extremo más cercano a la tierra, hay manchas de líquenes.

Cuando la marea está baja, encajonadas a los pies de las rocas en el extremo exterior, encuentro anémonas. Y en las grietas aquí, se ven los bálanos.

Quise ver lo que había en las grietas oscuras entre estas rocas. Pero allí no hay luz, el sitio es demasiado angosto, no logré acercarme suficientemente. Pero cabía mi mano, llevando la cámara chica, la de bolsillo; armé el flash, y saqué fotos a ciegas. Esto es lo que vió la cámara.

Fotos: 

1. Bálanos, lapas, mejillones, con algas rojas y verdes.
2. Más bálanos, y algas. El alga negra tal vez puede ser Ralfsia sp. (mancha de chapopote).

Looks organic

 Branching cracks ...

In a rock in the breakwater.

Colour as found.

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Parecen ramas ... Grietas en una roca en el rompeolas. El color es como lo encontré.

Colour on the breakwater

A grey, gravelly beach, a large gravel and mud parking lot, a few straggling, brown plantings along a walkway, and a long, high pile of bare rock down the middle and reaching out into the ocean. Grey, brown, black. And there, in this barren wasteland, bright green and red mosses and off-white, greenish lichens thrive.

Three mosses, one rock. The white-haired moss is a rock moss.

More rock moss, with a few red soredia.

Bullseye lichen on conglomerate

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En el borde del mar, piedritas grises; arriba hay un estacionamiento amplio, de lodo y grava, unas pocas plantas medio muertas al lado de un caminito. Y en medio, un montón largo de piedras grandes, limpios, que dividen la playa del estacionamiento y se extienden al agua para encerrar la marina. Gris, negro, color café.

Y en esa tierra baldía, crecen abundantes musgos y líquenes, verdes, blancos y colorados.

El musgo con pelitos blancos se llama musgo de piedra; los otros, no los pude identificar. El liquen es "Ojo de Toro", o sea, el blanco, el objectivo. Forma parches más o menos circulares en las rocas.

Grey day

It's been a typical Vancouver Island summer; a few hot days, and the rest are cloudy or rainy. Yesterday was about normal: rain in the morning, a ray or two of sunlight around noon, then the warm light vanished, and everything turned a soft grey. Grey skies, grey water, greyish green trees.

Before the rain started up again, I walked around Oyster Bay. When everything is grey, the different colours of grey stand out. The grey rocks had more colour than the grey seas.

Rocks along the breakwater, looking south. There's a hint of blue sky thataway.

The breakwater, looking north. Logs and rocks and the edge of the inner bay.

A couple of multicoloured rocks.

And on one of those rocks, a sea slater, Ligia pallasii. A creature of the night, not often seen in daylight.

I tracked the sea slater for a while, trying to get a head shot. He wasn't interested. I hadn't even seen the little fly until I looked at the photo. These flies were all over the shore,looking mostly like hopping sand grains.

Breakwater, inhabited

Walking along the shore, I set myself goals; I'll walk to that interesting stump in the distance, then turn back. Or, it's time to head home, but I'll walk to that erratic, then turn back. Often, I get to my goal, see something else interesting ahead, and keep on going; just to that next huge log, then it's time to go, I tell myself.

The other day, my third goal was the breakwater at the south end of Miracle Beach.

Formed concrete blocks.

I was intrigued by these blocks. Most of our breakwaters are made of huge natural rocks, of which we have no shortage. It's a rocky island we live on. These looked like pieces of some giant's board game, smooth to begin with, now eroded and barnacled. I stopped to examine them.

Each one is a fat X.

They're not as durable as our native rock; the edges are chipped and gouged, probably by storm-driven logs. And on the undersides and protected areas, the mussels have settled in.

Mussels, barnacles, limpets, and a snail or two. Nothing moving; no crabs or hermits.

Looking over the photos later, I noticed the little guy waving at me:

See him? On the leading edge, at the left. Looks like he's fishing. Or collecting seaweed.

One of the Wee Free Men, although he's not blue. Maybe the woad washed off.

There was another, on the fourth playing piece of the top row: I cropped him from the original photo and moved him up to join the fisherman. He's at the top right.

Roots

High and dry on the rock breakwater at Oyster Bay ...

A recent addition to the shoreline.

With time, the tree will be banged and rolled about, floated and dumped, soaked and sunburnt, chipped and peeled, until it turns pale and smooth, and goes to join the rest of the driftwood along the high tide line, south of the rocks.

Rust in peace

(continued from A bit of logging camp history.)

Simpson's Folly, they called it. Al Simpson, of the Iron River Logging Company, had built the causeway out into Georgia Strait, but the waves were too strong, and broke up his log booms. He added pieces of derelict ships to make a breakwater, starting with a 68 year old, three-masted clipper ship, the St. Paul, in 1942. The winter storms shifted them around, so he had them dynamited to the ground.

Remains of one of the Oyster Bay derelicts

Near the top of the breakwater, the old iron doesn't collect seaweed.

It wasn't enough. This is open coast, and the currents are strong.

In 1944, H.R. MacMillan bought the logging rights and camp. He expanded its operation, and brought in over one hundred worker's cabins. A cafe, the Blue Grouse, opened next door. And he began an ambitious program to protect the bay, adding, over time, a whole fleet of drowned ships.

The HCMS Matane, Royal Canadian Navy

... British Columbia's first Chief Forester. MacMillan reportedly gained considerable experience in world lumbering during World War I. With his colleague Whitford Julian VanDusen, another forester, MacMillan incorporated a company in 1919 to sell British Columbia lumber products to foreign markets. In 1924, they established a shipping company that would become one of the world's biggest charter companies. ( In response to competition, they began) ... to purchase mills and creat(e) the first truly integrated forestry company in British Columbia.
During World War II, MacMillan acquired numerous small mills and timber tenures on the south coast of British Columbia. (Wikipedia)

When World War II ended, many of the ships used in the war effort became redundant, and were sold off. In 1947, MacMillan bought and beached the Matane (almost new: built in 1943), the Levis, and the Charlottetown, from the Royal Canadian Navy.

Another view of the Matane. This was a large ship.

More ships followed:

• the WWI destroyer President Burns, 
• the Union Steamship steamer Lady Pam, 
• the Consolidated Whaling Company tender Gray (b. 1889), 
• the Island Tug and Barge Company’s chip barges Drumwall (aka. Puako) and 
• Betsey Ross (b. 1943), 
• the San Francisco car ferry Golden Bear, 
• the steam freighter Chatham, 
• the car ferry Border Queen, 
• two tugs (Cape Scott was one), 
• the 245-foot Muriel (built 1920), and 
• a large floating drydock.

The ships rested there, slowly rusting, until the mid-1950s, when rocks were brought in to replace them; the ships then were "removed". A 1956 report from the Campbell River Museum archives claims that "Removal of the hulks of old vessels has been underway for some years ... will be completed in 1956."

"Hat guy". Not much left of this ship.

Their footprints are still rusting peacefully today, in 2017.

Rust and barnacle remains.

As to how much they rusted and deteriorated, I put it down to the fact the tide goes out past them and exposes them entirely to air, twice a day, whereas sunken ships are entirely underwater forever and thus somewhat protected from oxidation (rusting.) (From Fransen CR; Graveyard of the Canadian Navy, Flickr.)

(Also see Ted Boggs collection, Campbell River Museum, for photos of logging camp and booming grounds, 1942 - 1945, and Helen Mitchell collection, for typical bunkhouses.)

Rust and rocks

Remains of wrecked ship, Oyster Bay.

Still useful, anchoring the breakwater.

Story tomorrow.

Rust, sea lettuce, and a baby chiton

The tide was as low as I've seen it at Oyster Bay, and I was wading around the remains of old ships left decades ago as a breakwater.

Clammers, and remains of an old ship, draped heavily in sea lettuce.

A long ship, reduced to spikes and sea lettuce holders.

In a few inches of water between rusty girders, I noticed a little chiton, upside-down. Unusual; they're normally stuck tightly to the substrate, but maybe his perch had gotten too hot and dry for his taste.

I picked him up, and he immediately rolled himself into a tight ball. I didn't know they did that.

I think this the woody chiton, Mopalia lignosa; his hairy girdle is lighter, softer, and has shorter hairs than the common hairy chiton.

After a brief wait, since I wasn't moving, he started to unroll himself again.

Orange underside. Like a limpet's, his foot includes a mouth (not visible on the right) and is separated from the girdle by a space which includes the gills.

When I moved, he rolled up again, so I gently replaced him back in the water, foot down.

These chitons grow to about 3 inches long; this was a youngster. They live in the middle to low intertidal zone, mostly on the sides and bottoms of rocks. There are no rocks in the area where I found him, so he had to make do with rusty metal.

They eat mainly sea lettuce; he'd picked a good place for that; these old ships are loaded with the stuff.

Grass on the breakwater

At Robert Ostler Park in downtown Campbell River.

Study in contrasts.