In the cool of the evening

At the end of a long, hot day, an evening walk as the sun goes down hits the spot. I even had to wear a light jacket! Here's the sun setting over Oyster Bay, as it developed. 

From the parking lot, looking Northwest, over the meadow. 8:30 PM.

From the outer shore. More or less North-northwest. 8:43 PM.

8:52. Still walking the outer shore. Northwest by north

9:08. From the dike, looking over the inner bay. The tide is low, so there's mud. 

9:12. Turning my back on the sun, to watch the swallows chasing mosquitoes far above.

And the last gasp of the light. 9:20 PM.

And sunset, with no trees to shield the sun, was at 9:36 PM. that day. By the time I'd returned to the meadow, all that was left was a warm orange haze on the clouds.

Another Skywatch post.

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Al final de otro dia caluroso, se antoja un paseo mientras se pone el sol. ¡Hasta me tuve que poner una chaqueta ligera! Aquí el final del dia visto desde Oyster Bay.

Fotos:

1. Mirando hacia el noroeste sobre la pradera, desde el estacionamiento. A las ocho y medio.
2. Saliendo a la playa exterior, miraba hacia el norte-noroeste. Las 8:43.
3. 8:52. Volviendo un poco más hacia el oeste.
4. Las 9:08, ya desde el dique, mirando sobre la laguna interior. Con la marea baja.
5. Olvidando el sol por un momento, le volví la espalda para mirar las golondrinas cazando mosquitos. Las 9:12.
6. Y ya mero desaparece el sol. 9:20 PM.

La puesta del sol oficial — si no hubiera árboles para impedir la vista — era a las 9:36 ese dia. Ya para cuando llegué otra vez a la pradera, lo único que quedaba era un tinte anaranjado en las nubes.

Bench facing west

 Sit and rest a while. Watch the sun go down.

Big-leaf maples on the dike at Oyster Bay.

Sunset today, 9:34 PM. Sunrise tomorrow, 5:13 AM. But the sky turns pink an hour earlier. I love these long, slow evenings, the morning glow in my window.

A week from now, we will have lost 7 minutes of sunlight. The sun is moving south again.

A Skywatch post.

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Siéntate, descansa un rato. Mira mientras se va a esconder el sol.

Foto: arces de hoja grande en el dique de Oyster Bay.

El sol se puso hoy a las 9:34. Y mañana amanece a las 5 con 13 minutos. Pero el cielo ya se tiñe de rosa una hora antes. Me gustan estas tardes lentas, y el fulgor mañanero en mi ventana.

Dentro de una semana, habremos perdido 7 minutos de sol. El orbe está en camino al sur otra vez.

Last of the light

The sun came out, the sky was blue. Sunset was just before 5 PM. I made it to Oyster Bay on time to watch the light fade.

About 5:15 PM. Orange-tinted clouds and ducks settling in for the night.

Mini-lake on the top of a log.

The last photo: I take this photo almost every visit.

Day settings, Jan. 22: Sunrise, 8:07, sunset, 4:58. Coming up to 9 hours of daylight!

I was in time to find a few lichens and mosses. Photos tomorrow.

A Skywatch post.

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Salió el sol. ¡Hasta hubo cielo azul! El sol se ponía un poco antes de las 5; alcancé a llegar a Oyster Bay con tiempo para ver los últimos rayos anaranjados.

Fotos:

1. Oyster Bay, a las 5 y cuarto; nubes entintados y patos dormidos.
2. Un "laguito" encima de un troncón viejo, reflejando el cielo.
3. La última foto de la tarde; saco esta foto en casi cada visita.

El horario del dia ahora: el 22 de enero, el sol aparecerá a las 8:07, y se pone a ls 4:58. ¡Casi 9 horas de luz tendremos ya!

Llegué a tiempo para encontrar unos líquenes y musgos. Mañana subo fotos.

Un post para Skywatch, donde encontrarás fotos del cielo al dia desde el mundo entero.

A few rays

It was a good day for a drive, sunny and calm, and the highway west, all curvy and green, was inviting, with the sinking sun angling down through the trees, picking out a glowing mossy bank here, a snow-clad mountain peak there. At the bridge over the Buttle Lake Narrows, I stopped for a few minutes, turned and drove home, now in shadow most of the way.

Buttle Narrows; the link between Upper Campbell Lake and Buttle Lake. 4:59 PM.

Sunset was just before 5:30, but here in between mountain ridges, the sun hides well before then. When I drove on, just a few minutes later, only the very top of the ridge was lit.

Rocky ridge facing the Narrows. I do love big rocks!

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Era un muy buen dia para dar un paseo en coche. El sol brillaba, no había viento. Y la carretera rumbo al oeste, me llamaba: tan sinuosa, tan verde, con el sol ya bajando atrás de los árboles, enviando sus rayos por entre los troncos de los pinos, apuntando aquí un cerro acojinado con musgos resplandecentes, allá una cima nevada. Llegando al puente que cruza el estrecho del Lago Buttle, me detuve un ratito, luego di vuelta y regresé a casa, ahora casi toda la ruta en sombra.

El sol se pone en estos dias cerca de las cinco y media, pero aquí en el valle entre montañas, se esconde un buen rato más temprano. Saqué estas fotos un minuto antes de las cinco; pocos minutos más tarde, cuando regresé al coche, ya la luz apenas tocaba la mera cresta de las rocas.

Sundown from Willow Point

Rocks, water, and the faintest touch of pink.

Facing the mainland, with the sun dropping behind the trees at my back.

4:56 PM. Sunset was at 5:15, but the sun was gone behind the hills before then.

A Skywatch post.

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Piedras, algas marinas, agua y un toque de color de rosa, durante la puesta del sol, desde Willow Point. Mirando hacia el este, con el sol medio escondido tras los árboles a mis espaldas.
Eran las 4:56 de la tarde; la puesta del sol fué a las 5:15, pero antes de eso el sol ya había desaparecido atrás de los cerros.

Sky and reflections, Oyster Bay

I'm still catching up with photos from the last busy month. These are from Oyster Bay, just after sunset, three weeks ago.

The sky, facing northwest. The sun has dropped behind the trees. 7:44 PM

And the reflection of that sky in the water of the bay.

Sundown today was earlier: 7:12 PM. And sunrise tomorrow will be at 7:11 AM. We're down to 12 hours of sunlight, and it is shrinking fast.

A Skywatch post.

Sundown on the estuary

Cool and windy, with a light scattering of clouds. I went to Tyee Spit to watch the sun go down.

8:23 PM. Campbell River estuary. Tyee Spit on the right.

8:36 PM. From the bird blind.

8:43 PM. "Official" sunset was at 8:37.

As I left, another photographer was arriving, loaded with cameras. He had missed most of the colour, but the glow persists.

A Skywatch post.

Turning points

Sunday afternoons, I often point the car north or west and let it go until sunset, not going anywhere in particular, just watching the sky and the hills, the roadside rocks and trees. Then I turn around and come home.

This was where I turned back east, at the first viewpoint over Upper Campbell Lake, with the setting sun making me and the camera squint.

Heading south from Woss; I was looking for snow, since it's winter. This was all the snow I found.

A Skywatch post.

Barely made it

I ran out on a last-minute errand, leaving the camera behind. And on my way home there was a triple rainbow, three full bands, the entire bow showing, with two pots of gold, one behind my house, one on Quadra Island.

And me without a camera!

I got home, ran for the pocket camera, since the big one needed a lens change - no time for that!

7 minutes to sundown, and the tail end of the rainbow over the museum woods.

The rest of the rainbow had faded. And that pot seems to have moved a few blocks away. Oh, well.

Down at the pier, the crowds were settling in to wait for the fireworks; I was happy on my empty street with a rainbow and orange clouds.

Last gasp. Sunset in 6 minutes.

A Skywatch post.

A few more sunset photos

The colours of the sunset change from one moment to the next.

Tyee Spit, 9:22 PM. Looking north.

9:26 PM. Looking northeast.

9:32 PM. Looking north.

Late afternoon at Oyster Bay

In these days, just around the solstice, the sun slides down the sky slowly, so slowly. At this latitude, 50°North, it reaches its highest point at about 1:30 PM, not directly overhead, but at about 64° above the horizon. And sunset comes at 9:30 or thereabouts, so it takes 8 hours to drop those 60°.

At 8:30, the sun is just under 8° over the horizon. And its light is orange. I wandered in the pre-sunset dusk at Oyster Bay.

Hawthorn, half green, half red, side-lit. 8:27 PM.

View from the far side, looking south. The pilings and purple martin nest boxes, normally a dingy grey, look warm in this light. 8:31.

Pilings, eagle, rocks. Looking from the breakwater east across Georgia Strait. 8:32.

New pickleweed plants and sand ripples, inside the breakwater. 8:38 PM.

8:54. The sun no longer reaches this area of the shore, but there's still a reflected mauve light from the sky. Daisies and logs.

Dreaming under a pink sky

Resting Beaver, Tyee Spit, at sunset:

9:42 PM, facing southwest. Just visible: wings of an active float plane, down at the dock.

This is a DeHavilland DHS-2 Beaver. These were produced from 1947 to 1965, and many are still slogging away, hauling people and equipment to our isolated coastal communities. They have been called, the "workhorse of the north".

Pink dusk

The sun has gone down behind the trees, but the light remains.

Canada geese and diving ducks, 9:31, looking northeast from Tyee Spit.

And from the far side of the spit, looking southwest.9:34.

Sunset was at 9:30.

Another Skywatch post.

Sunset over Oyster Bay

With the longer days, sunset goes on and on, with the colours changing from pink to mauve to yellow to orange, then finally fading back to a warm violet. And there's time enough for me to drive down to Oyster Bay to watch the show.

9:20, facing the sun as it finally drops behind the trees.

9:18 With my back to the setting sun. The warm light highlights the usually greyish swallow nest posts and the rocky bank behind. Even the mud looks interesting.

The "official" sunset today was at 9:32, but when I left to go shopping in the cool of the evening, at 10:00, the sky was still streaked with orange and mauve lights. Only a few more days before the sun starts going to bed earlier again, though.

A Skywatch post.

Silhouette, with dropping sun

Every time I go to Oyster Bay, I end up taking a photo (or three) of this pair of trees. Most get deleted; there are only so many almost identical copies worth keeping.

This time, the late afternoon sun through the leaves almost blinded me. So I took the umpteenth photo, leaning out of the open car door.

8:04 PM. View from the OBSP parking lot.

The yellow shrubs at the edge of the meadow are the horribly invasive Scotch broom, that is gradually colonizing any dryish fields on Vancouver Island. Worrisome.

Unplanned stop

I am so glad the days are getting longer. Coming home at 7 PM, the setting sun on the mainland mountaintops and an empty beach dragged my car into a parking lot, and my feet down to water's edge.

Stories beach, and the mainland mountains.

Warm light on a snowy peak.

The incoming tide brought fresh seaweeds with it, mainly rockweed and eelgrass, fresh, green, and with roots. I brought home a full bag for my tank, and the hermit crabs are now clambering through an eelgrass forest loaded with good eats: hydroids, diatom fuzz, ("Yum!" they say, between mouthfuls) and tiny, waving red algae.

Blue again!

We had rain yesterday. A few minutes, is all, but a hint of a possible return to normalcy. And here in Campbell River, the sky was blue again, with white clouds. The brown smoke that hid everything farther away than the shore of Quadra Island, less than a mile away, has gone. I can see the white caps of the mainland mountains for the first time in weeks.

Good news, for us. And more rain is promised; good news for the rest of BC, still battling the Plateau fire, the largest wildfire in BC's history. But some people, in other areas, are being allowed to return home. September, with its rainclouds, is in sight.

And I was so glad to see a sunset against a blue sky, that I took its photo with the pocket camera propped on the roof of the car for stability.

So the roof is curved. But the sky is blue again.

Yay!

A Skywatch post.

One hour before sundown

It's that time of year again, when the days grow noticeably shorter. The long, slow dawns, when the orange glow warmed my window at 5:00 AM, are no more. Now, I make my morning coffee in the dark. And a short walk on the beach after supper means that I come home with the headlights on.

This is Stories Beach, just south of the 50th parallel north, four days ago, starting at 5:47 PM. Sunset is at 6:49.

5:47, looking Southeast. The sun is off to my left, 9° above the horizon.

Looking up.

10 minutes later, looking Northeast. The beach and the lower trees are in shadow already.

And today's sunset will be at 6:40, nine minutes earlier. Our day will be just over 11 hours long. It will go down to 8 hours by mid-December, with the sun barely 16 degrees over the horizon. Time to dig out my winter coats!

I've been looking at a site that gives all sorts of data on the sun's position at any given time or place, SunEarthTools; a map, graphs, tables; anything you can think of to ask. One curious number I noticed is that noon today is at 1:08 PM. Words mean different things depending on the context.

A Skywatch post.

Light over the water

Sunset sometimes turns up with a palette bearing only the palest, most subtle of pinks.

Monday, 6:30 PM Sundown is at 7.

Wednesday, 6:59 PM.

A Skywatch post.

Tyrannosaurus rex

There's something inspiring about driftwood. People, from toddlers to ancients, seem compelled to rearrange it, to create something new of it. Fences around sandcastles, teepees or hideouts leaning on logs, shacks simple and complex, roofed or open to the sunshine, full-sized art installations, barricades and territorial markers, circular "rooms" with a fire pit at the centre, bagel holders, flagpoles (I saw one today with a purple t-shirt as a flag); all doomed to disappear with the next tide or the next winter's storms.

At sundown this evening, I met a driftwood dinosaur.

Young T-rex, human-sized, Stories Beach

He's built near the top of the intertidal zone, where only the worst storms will reach him. And his creator intends him to last: he's put together with many brass screws.

I don't know why he has a rock in his head.