Just a beach.

Poking around Google maps, I discovered a beach access point I'd not seen before. And today the sun came out; a good day for exploring.

The tide was high and the beach was just a narrow strip between a mass of wet logs (they don't get much of a chance to dry out these days) and the piles of rotting seaweeds. But there's good sand, and there were birds and snow-capped mountains. And romping dogs.

Strips of white, snow on the mainland mountains and gulls on a sandbar. The tide is going out, leaving a line of wet sand.

Empty water, with one lonely bird, a male Common Goldeneye.

A bit further on, masses of gulls, staying warm, waiting for low tide. With a couple of peeps.

A broken moon snail shell, exposing the inner column. The segmented tube just below it is the discarded home of a jointed tubeworm, probably Spiochaetopterus costarum.

Jointed tubeworm. Photo from 2012 in my salt-water aquarium.

One of the dogs.

About this dog; I caught up with him later on; he had collected a large, round stone, almost too big to hold in his mouth. He was dropping it among other stones, then pawing at it to make it roll away, leaping after it, catching it and dropping it again. Looked like fun! Then he upped his game; he picked up the stone and went to a deep pile of disintegrated seaweed and dropped it in. Then he went crazy digging through the seaweed, grabbing big mouthfuls and tossing them about. (And that seaweed was slimy and stinky!) He pawed and dug and scraped until the stone rolled out, then grabbed it again and dropped it in a fresh pile. He was busy there when I finally turned to go home, laughing.

I'll be back. At low tide, next time.

A Skywatch post.

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"Andaba" por las calles de mi ciudad, un paseo virtual en Google Maps, y descubrí una calle con aceso a la playa que no había visto antes. Y ayer salió el sol; un buena oportunidad para ver como era en vivo.

La marea estaba a lo máximo y la playa en ese momento consistía en unos pocos metros de piedra y arena entre un multitud de troncos mojados (en estos dias no llegan a secarse) y montones de algas marinas desbaratadas. Pero hay arena buena, y había nieve en las montañas del continente, y pájaros. Y perros felices.

1. Lineas blancas: nieve en las montañas, y gaviotas en los bancos de arena. La marea va bajando, y deja un tramo de arena mojada.
2. Agua, montañas, cielo. Y un solo pájaro en la distancia. Un porrón osculado, macho.
3. Y más adelante, una bandada de gaviotas, manteniéndose muy juntos para conservar el calor.
4. Una concha rota del caracol luna, Neverita lewisii, con la columna abierta a la vista. El tubito segmentado en frente de la concha es el tubo de un gusano tubícola, probablemente Spiochaetopterus costarum.
5. El gusano tubícola, visto en mi acuario, en 2012.
6. Uno de los perros. Un Dálmata.

Acerca de este perro: más adelante, lo vi de nuevo. Había capturado una piedra redonda, muy grande; apenas lograba cogerla con la boca. Andaba depositando la piedra entre otras, y luego pateándola hasta hacerla rodar, y entonces saltar encima, levantarla de nuevo y de nuevo tirarla. ¡Divertido! Al rato decidió añadir interés a su juego; recogió la piedra y la llevó a una pila de algas marinas podridas. Una pila bien grande, diría alrededor de 30 cm. de algas amontonadas. Allí depositó su piedra, y luego se puso a desenterrarla con gran entusiasmo, tomando grandes mordidas de algas y aventándolas a todos lados. (¡Y esas algas estaban ya bien podridas, apestosas y viscosas!) Pateaba y excavaba y mordía hasta que la piedra rodó fuera del montón. Y entonces, la agarró y fue a depositarla en otra pila de algas. Yo, por fin, lo dejé y me fui, riéndome.

Regresaré. A marea baja, la próxima vez.

Just wondering

 Why?

Why do people feel compelled to build precarious driftwood shelters on the beach?

A lot of work, a bit of shade, a menagerie of wooden beasts.

Why do dogs so love cold water, even when it's so chilly that people on the beach are wearing winter coats?

It even looks cold.

But he's so happy!

And this. Why, just why?

Pole with rocks from the breakwater. Oyster Bay far shore, a good 10 minutes walk from anything. Underwater at high tide.

Life is so full of mysteries!

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Me pregunto: ¿Porqué?

¿Porque nos sentimos con la necesidad de construir albergues de madera flotante en la playa? Mucho trabajo, una poca de sombra después, y figuras fantásticas para poblar los sueños.

¿Porqué a los perros les encanta echarse al agua helada, aun cuando hace tanto frío que la gente en la playa lleva abrigos de invierno? ¡Pero les hace tan felices!

¿Porqué esto? ¿Para qué? Un tronco viejo parado por medio de una pila de rocas traídas del rompeolas, a 10 minutos de caminata de cualquier cosa, y sumergido en agua cuando sube la marea.

La vida; ¡tan llena de misterios!

Interlude

 Happiness is a dripping dog.

Waiting for someone to throw his stick.

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La felicidad se define con un perro empapado, esperando a que le avienten su palo al mar otra vez.

Wistful Blue Eyes

Behind Cougar Creek Park:

"How about taking me for a walk? I'm bored in here."

Orange, blue, ... and pink

Another happy dog, this afternoon on Boundary Bay.

Going places, waving that blonde tail like a flag.

Mmmmm ... salt!

Meanwhile, we wimpy humans bundled up in jackets, tuques, and gloves, and tried to keep our feet dry.

We are so spoiled!

We were discussing cameras, as we often do, and Laurie mentioned a Bilora Radix that he bought in the 1970s. He didn't use it long, because the film had to be removed and replaced in a darkroom, and it got expensive.

 "... it uses the Agfa Rapid (or Karat) system, in which 35mm film is loaded into a spool free cassette, and advanced by direct driving of the sprockets into another cassette." (Link)

"I still have it, though," Laurie said. He's a hoarder.

He dug it out for me. It's a little camera, 4 1/2 inches long, about the size of my little Nikon Coolpix, but much heavier. German-made, and solid. It takes a special film, producing 24 x 24 mm photos in a roll of 36. Laurie's was made in 1949 or '50; it was well used when he bought it. He shot in black and white. Colour rolls were expensive and had to be developed in a special lab.

Front view.

The lens (5.6/38, or 40mm) had very little play; turning it extended it barely 1/4 of an inch. The little round dial at the top shows the aperture, but is almost impossible to read.

There is a slider just under the lens, but not visible in this photo. I can't figure out what it does. By the time Laurie got the camera, the manual was long gone.

Top view

The toothed lever at the top right operates the shutter. It was a little sticky, after some 40 years stuck away in a drawer, but loosened up quickly. It advances the film nicely; the number of photos taken shows in the window below. 10, here, after a few trial clicks.

At the far right, on the side is a plug-in for a remote shutter cable, probably just a flexible wire operating a plunger. On the left there is another plug-in, this one probably for a flash attachment. The company added a flash shoe to the 1951 model.

The toothed lever on the lens closes or opens plates to regulate the amount of light.

The aperture setting regulates the light, as well as changing the depth of field.

Back view.

That lever at the top right advances the film. It only works once after each shot taken.

The wheel in the centre is the locking mechanism for the film cover. I took it off, and discovered a film in it, which means that I ruined about 3 frames by letting in light. I closed the back and advanced the film three spaces. Maybe, possibly, if we're lucky, we might be able to get 23 photos out of this.

That's assuming, of course that the film hasn't completely deteriorated. But another camera collector got a decent photo with 30-year-old film, so there's hope.

But then again, there's the shutter and lens:

Lens and shutter plates, badly corroded.

The blades work, but they feel gritty. And the inner lens is dusty. No wonder! 63 years; even bagged, in a dresser drawer, entropy happens.

It worked nicely, back in the 1970s, though; here's a sample.

Penny

She's Laurie's dog, taken at Ryder Lake, in the hills above Chilliwack. The photo was dusty and faded to sepia, so I cleaned it and restored it to black and white. Otherwise, it is as taken.

I have never been so grateful for my modern cameras with all their automatic settings, the instant adjustments, the load capacity (hundreds of photos without a break!); and the ability to process them all myself, and without a darkroom!

We are so spoiled!

Mostly blue, almost wordless

Disappearing beach

Reflection in a car windshield

Blue water, with orange dog

Sea foam on the incoming tide

A Skywatch post

Molly, waiting

A grizzled old dog by the railroad track sat ignoring us, just a step away taking photos of wildflowers. Her companion had gone back to collect his bike, and she wasn't going to take her eyes off the path he would return by.

And then they went off down the tracks, man, bike, and Molly.

Checking in

Brief report of a hectic day:

Great-grandkid, turning two.

Luna (short for lunatic, I think). The sanest member of the party.

Great-grandmas can get awfully tired.

Tomorrow, back to normal. I hope.

P.S. I'm sorry, but I've had to turn on Captchas on the comments. I've been getting tons of spam these days.

Cave canem

Seen in a Strathcona alley:

A sign on the fence says, "Beware of Dog".

Happiness is a chewy board

And a soaking-wet dog.

Centennial Beach, March 31st.

Lily Magnolia

Or just Maggie, to her friends:

She supervises the management at the motel where we stayed near Campbell River. About as big as a small cat, but very business-like. Here she checks on us: "Everything ok? Enjoying your stay? And, do you have any treats today?"

Because Canucks fans are wearing mustaches these days

Hairy:

Purple dead nettle, Lamium purpureum

Luna in a rare quiet instant. At the Mothers' Day picnic, Queens Park.

Midge found drowned in my salt water reservoir. The hairy antennae show that it's a male.

Rex, sure, you're a hairy hermit, but don't you think wearing an anemone on your shell is going a bit overboard?

Not hairy:

Red-eared turtle, Cougar Creek Park. Not a Canucks fan.

His name is Louis

Or Lewis, maybe.

We passed this dog on the Semiahmoo side of the White Rock beach, obviously enjoying himself.

I thought he might have been injured, so I asked his companion about him. No, she said; the condition is genetic. He is 11 years old, and has been in the rig for most of that time. His hindquarters are completely paralyzed. He has had surgery, but it was ineffective.

He comes to the beach several times a week, and loves it.

Laurie said he is fortunate to be so loved. I think ...

... the affection is mutual. They're both fortunate. So are we for having made their acquaintance.

In Strathcona, expect the unexpected.

Post #4 of Culture Crawl, 2009 series. (#1, #2, #3)


I'm still working my way through the photos of the Culture Crawl a week ago. These are details noticed along the way; in Strathcona, even the ordinary folk have quirky ideas and don't mind sharing them:

Incense sticks in a holder on the front wall of a house

Christmas lights  in a box

Buddha among the rocks

Stained-glass fish in a window

So don't bother checking.

Snake on the front steps. Not poisonous, though.

Painted pink plug

Old pushbuttons, new paint job.

Greeter

Cosmic egg

Coffee and comfy chairs. At the Gem & I studio, a Crawl first-timer. Laurie bought a few stones here.

Inside the Gem & I, a worried guardian.

A pair of dogs on the street

This big white sheepdog reminded me of the garage sale dog I wished that I had bought in Campbell River. Just as bouncy, just as foolish. He was thrilled to have a friend to play with; he bounced and flopped about, grinning from ear to ear. We stood in the middle of the street and laughed out loud.