Showing posts with label campsite. Show all posts
Showing posts with label campsite. Show all posts

Sunday, July 14, 2024

Pit stop

Before I go on to other things, here are a few photos of my last stop on the Rock Bay road; at a campsite on McCreight Lake. It was cool, and quiet, and dim; a relief after the glare and dust of the road.

A windowed wall of trees encloses the picnic and parking area.

A short climb takes me down to water's edge, where this old stump sings to the afternoon sky.

Stopping on the climb back up, to look at the view, all in cool blues and greens.

There is even a tiny beach, after another short climb.

The amenities here consist of a picnic bench, a circle of rocks for a fire pit, and the essential plywood outhouse, with a sign asking visitors to please fasten the door open when they leave (there's a rope loop and a hook); probably to avoid having bears rip the door off its hinges to see what's inside. Enough; the waves rattled stones on the beach, and the wind whispered in the branches overhead. A distant eagle called, that high squeal that sounds more like a distressed mouse with a loudspeaker than the voice of the king of the skies. What more could anyone want? 

I was reluctant to leave, but the road was waiting and my garden needed its evening drink.

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Antes de seguir con otras cosas, otros sitios, aquí hay unas fotos del último lugar que visité en mis exploraciones del camino de Rock Bay, en un pequeño campamento al lado del lago McCreight. Era un sitio fresco, tranquilo, y sombreado; un alivio después del resplandor y del polvo del camino.
  1. Como una pared con sus ventanas, los árboles encierran el estacionamiento y el area de picnic.
  2. Después de un corto descenso, casi a gatas, llegué a la orilla del lago, donde este tronco canta su himno al cielo del atardecer.
  3. Me detuve mientras escalaba las rocas para apreciar la vista, todo en colores frescos, azul y verdes.
  4. Hasta hay una playa miniatura, al pie de otro sendero.
Las "amenidades" aquí consisten en: una mesa de picnic, una fogata básica (un círculo de rocas), y la letrina rústica tan esencial, en este caso una estructura ligera hecha de madera contrachapada, y llevando un letrero pidiéndoles a los visitantes que se aseguren al salir de dejar la puerta abierta, y bien fijada así (hay una cuerda y un gancho para el propósito), probablemente para evitar que los osos la arranquen con todo y visagras, para ver que hay por dentro.

Bueno, es suficiente: las olas rodaban piedras en la playita, con un sonido como de la sonaja de un bebé; las ramas de los árboles susurraban en armonía. Un águila distante llamó, con su chillido agudo que suena más como el de un ratoncito con altavoz, que como lo que es, la voz del "rey de los cielos". ¿Qué más se podría pedir?

Me sentía con ganas de quedarme hasta ver la noche caer sobre el agua, pero el camino me esperaba, y mi jardín se estaba secando. Regresaré algún dia.

Saturday, November 21, 2020

Out on the edge of the world

Vancouver Island sits off the west coast of Canada. Nootka Island sits off the west coast of Vancouver Island. Only the Queen Charlottes, to the north, take Canada further west. Looking straight west from the west coast of Nootka Island, the closest land is just north of Japan, 7,000 km. away.

Shortly after Japan attacked Pearl Harbour, during World War II, the Canadian and U.S. governments, jointly, established a radar station on a peak on the farthest west point of Nootka Island, tasked with watching for submarine and air activity in the northern Pacific. Barely three years later, the war having ended, the site was evacuated.

A few years later, the staff at Esperanza Hospital, some 30 km away as the crow flies, if ever a crow flies in a straight line, about 4 hours away by boat, as we measured distance, were permitted to use the abandoned facilities for a summer camp for kids from the surrounding communities, Tahsis, Zeballos, Nuchatlitz, Ceepeecee, Yuquot, and floating logging camps. And us, at Esperanza and Hecate, of course. I spent most of the summer here for several years; Dad was camp director, Mom the nurse. We arrived early, stayed through several batches of kids, stayed to close down the camp at the end. Summer, to me, meant Ferrier Point.*

The Point itself is surrounded completely by water, making it its own island. On the "inside", in a deep bay, is the sandy beach from yesterday's post. The inlet cuts across to the far shore, the "outside" along a narrow tidal creek. Everywhere else, the shore faces open water; on the west, 7,000 km. of open water.

The west end of the tidal cut between the Point and Nootka Island. A camp outing.

On the rocks. "That's Japan, over there," we used to say, ignoring the fact of a round earth. We did know better, but it was fun to imagine.

The view from the radar tower, looking southeast. The "lagoon". The island was densely wooded; still is, even as the rest of the islands are logged off.

From the campsite, looking north, past the "Ocean Spray" cabin. There was a short trail going down to this shore, a narrow strip of pebbles where we sat around a campfire and watched pounding waves. We were told never to set foot in the water, no matter how quiet it looked; there was a dangerous undertow and it would drag us down and away. We behaved. We all knew the power of the sea.


Google maps: Ferrer Point. Looks like some sort of eared beast. The lagoon is the eye. the mouth cuts the island off from Nootka Island.

The old buildings are gone now, the board road across to the tower crumbled into the earth, but occasional visitors still show up. And in the waters around the point, the fishing is excellent.

*We called it Ferrier Point; today's maps say Ferrer, but the campsite is still labelled as Ferrier on Google maps.

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La isla de Vancouver queda al oeste de la masa continental de Canadá. La isla Nutka está situada al oeste de la costa de la isla de Vancouver. Solamente las islas Carlotas, al norte, se sitúan más al oeste, entre las tierras canadienses. Mirando desde el punto más occidental de la isla de Nutka, la tierra más cercana es Japón, a unos 7.000 kilómetros al oeste.

Poco después de que el Japón atacó a los EE. UU. durante la Segunda Guerra Mundial, los gobiernos canadiense y estadounidense, en conjunto, establecieron un sitio de observación con una torre de radar en el punto más al oeste de la isla de Nutka, con el propósito de observar actividades submarinas y por aire entre Canadá y Japón. Apenas tres años más tarde, al terminar la guerra, abandonaron el sitio.

Unos pocos años más tarde, los encargados del hospital en Esperanza, unos 30 km. de distancia como vuela el cuervo (si es que los cuervos alguna vez vuelan en linea recta) o como lo medíamos los habitantes de la región, a unas cuatro horas por barco, fueron permitidos a ocupar el sitio para campamento de verano para los niños de las comunidades cercanas, como Tahsis, Zeballos, Nuchatlitz, Ceepeecee, y Yuquot. Y nosotros en Esperanza y Hecate, por seguro. Yo pasé la mayor parte del verano aquí por varios años. Mi papá sirvió como director y Mamá fué la enfermera del campamento. Llegábamos temprano, nos quedábamos mientras venían y se iban varios grupos de niños, y nos quedábamos a limpiar el sitio al final del verano. Para mí, el verano significaba el Ferrier Point.*

Ferrer Point está completamente rodeado de agua, lo que lo hace también una isla. En el lado "de adentro", como lo llamábamos, queda la playa arenosa que subí ayer, en una bahía larga que corta hacia las rocas en el "exterior" por medio de una especie de rio sujeto a la marea. En toda la costa aparte de esto, la isla mira hacia mar "abierto", en el oeste, hacia 7.000 km. de mar abierto.

Las fotos: caminando hacia el exterior. 
En las rocas, mirando, decíamos, a Japón sin mencionar que la tierra es redonda y no se puede ver más allá de las nubes.
Desde la torre, mirando al sudeste; la laguna. Toda la isla estaba cubierta de bosque denso; aún hoy, sigue igual, aunque en el resto de nuestra isla la industria forestal ha dejado grandes espacios vacíos.
Una vista desde el campamento, mirando hacia el norte. Hay un caminito hacia el borde del mar aquí; una playa angosta de piedras redondeadas por el agua. Aquí no nadábamos, ni siquiera nos mojábamos los pies; el mar aquí nos podría agarrar y llevarnos rapidamente al fondo. Nos portábamos bién; todos sabíamos el poder del mar.

*En el mapa de hoy, el lugar se llama Ferrer Point, pero en aquel tiempo, lo llamábamos Ferrier. El mapa Google mantiene este último nombre unicamente para el sitio del campamento.

Monday, February 10, 2020

Steller's Jay

I went to look at the Strathcona Dam and the campsite sleeping below it in the snow. The campsite was deserted, of course, but a Steller's Jay found me tramping about under the trees, and hung around, hoping I would have goodies, like the summer campers do. Sorry, little bird, I wasn't thinking ahead.

With the snow on the ground, and the white mid-afternoon sky, my eyes were dazzled. I couldn't see anything but his shape. Good thing the camera saw colour.

He moved to a higher branch to get a better look at me. And my hands were empty, except for the camera; no treats to share. When I left, he didn't follow me.

More dam and campsite photos tomorrow.

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Fuí a mirar la presa a media isla, y el campamento público situada justo a sus pies. Todo estaba en silencio, abandonado y cubierto de nieve, pero mientras exploraba los bosques, me halló una chara de Steller, y se quedó observándome, sin duda esperando para ver si traía alguna cosa de comer, como los visitantes en el verano. Lo siento —le dije —no vengo preparada.

Cuando por fin regresé al carro, no me siguió.

Con lo blanco tan brillante de la nieve y un cielo con nubes igualmente blancos, mis ojos estaban deslumbrados, y no pude ver más que la forma del pájaro, y nada de color. Por suerte, la cámara ve mejor que yo.

Habrá más fotos de la presa y campamento mañana.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

Campsite mushrooms

The (free) campsite we stayed in just outside of Tahsis runs alongside the Liener River, in deep rainforest under Douglas firs and cedars. The only amenities offered are picnic tables, one per cleared site, and small fire pits, plus a couple of outhouses. We hadn't brought our own firewood, and soon found that all the fallen wood in the area, even bordering the river and road, where the sun occasionally reaches, is soaked through. We had to go into town to collect fire starter and driftwood.

The far side of the river; a dense wall of boundary plants, ferns, salmonberries, and thimbleberries, and beyond them, old evergreens, standing and fallen, moss-covered.

It's always dusk under the evergreens, and the mosquitoes are enthusiastic morning and evening. There is a distant smell of bear; old fish, ancient urine, leftover meals, stewed together in two-inch deep fur.

It's prime mushroom country, even in midsummer.

Polypore with a thick, whitish lip. On the side of a mossy log.

More shelf fungi on the end of a log. Conifer-base polypore and resinous polypore?

A white, oozy shelf fungus on well-rotted wood.

This tiny one was inside a stump. I couldn't get in to see the underside. Note the grey springtail on the edge, and in the centre of the dried evergreen needle, an even smaller globular springtail.

Lichen or mushroom? On a small twig I brought out into the light, resting on the grey picnic table. The mushroom is about 3/8 of an inch tall.

Looking down into the cup. One side has been knocked out.

Yellow slime mold, scrambled egg slime. On well-rotted log.

These are awkward critters to photograph. They grow in dark places; even though it was 11 AM when I took these photos, it was still twilight under the trees. And they don't respond well to flash; the colours change, even fluoresce. So it's handheld, wobbling on precarious, slippery ground, in the dark. And even so, my camera does better than my eyes. It manages to see texture; I didn't.

Scrambled egg, up close.

These were all taken at the same place as yesterday's lot:

GPS coordinates: 49.91553, -126.62502



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