Over-exposed

At low tide on the open sandy areas north of Oyster Bay, almost all that can be seen are the sand dollars. Underneath ( I dug down) there are more sand dollars. Many more. And the occasional clam.

One of the sand dollars. To my naked eye, the live ones looked black, but the camera saw the red colour.

The exposed sand dollars were all waving their spines, trying to bury themselves in the sand as the water receded. They look helpless, but they're quite efficient diggers.

And one lonely crab molt.

Coming up to the ship graveyard, the sand dollars peter out, and other critters show up.

One of the old ships innards, draped with sea lettuce.

Those round lumps in the sand? Sand dollars, sheltering. Every few steps I could feel one crack under my foot. Sorry, guys!

Beside the ship above, I found this unhappy Opalescent nudibranch, Hermissenda opalescens. Also a worm poop.

The very low tides can be hard on creatures from the lower intertidal zones. Out of the water, those rusty iron ship bones get hot. I found a couple of limpets belly up in the heat beside this boat. I brought them home wrapped in cool, damp sea lettuce: one survived and is now cleaning the wall in my tank.

And this nudibranch was moving sluggishly, out exposed on warm sand. I took a few photos, then covered it with several layers of wet sea lettuce.

Orange starfish, with one new arm.

I found green anemones, a pink anemone, a very red one (mostly buried, keeping away from the sun), and this orangey one, under a couple of inches of water. A hermit crab is sheltering under its shadow.

A row of whelks, closed down to preserve moisture. The sea lettuce here is still wet, and if you look closely, you'll see a green anemone (or is it two?) still open for business.

Starfish can move quickly when they want. On the far side of the boat, I saw a big purple starfish. By the time I went around to that side, having to go up onto the headland to dodge shoe-eating mud, I couldn't find the star anywhere. It had probably buried itself under the sand; starfish don't like sunshine.

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Cuando la marea está baja, en la playa arenosa al norte de Oyster Bay, todo lo que se ve son los dólares de arena. Y debajo de la arena (excavé varios hoyos) lo que se encuentra son más dólares. Y una que otra almeja grande.

Los dólares de arena vivos se ven, a mis ojos, negros. Pero la cámara ve el color rojizo. Todos los vivos estaban agitando las espinas, tratando de enterrarse bajo la arena, fuera del alcance de los rayos del sol. Parecen no tener defensas, pero son capaces de desaparecer en pocos minutos.

Un cangrejo había dejado su muda de carapacho. Al tostarse se hace más rojo.

Estas mareas bajas son un episodio difícil para muchos animales de la zona baja; no toleran el sol. Y junto a los barcos viejos, que normalmente proveen habitat para muchos, ahora se siente el calor; los fierros viejos se secan y se hacen un hornito. Al lado de este barco, encontré dos lapas boca arriba, lo que no se ve si están sanos. Me los traje a casa envueltos en un poco de alga marina húmeda; una sobrevivió y ahora está felizmente limpiando la pared de mi acuario.

Y un nudibranquo, Hermissenda opalescens, sufría en la arena; apenas se movía ya. Le saqué unas fotos y luego la cubrí de varias capas de algae.

Luego había una estrella de mar anaranjada, con una pata nueva.

Y una anémona anaranjada en un poco de agua. Un ermitaño se estaba escondiendo en su sombra.

Vi anémonas verdes, color de rosa, y una de un rojo muy fuerte, casi por completo enterrada en la arena, escondiéndose del sol asesino.

Junto a los caracoles hay una anémona verde escondida entre la alga.

Las estrellas de mar se pueden mover muy rapidamente si quieren. Vi una grande, morada, al otro lado del barco. Pero cuando fui a verla, después de tener que dar toda la vuelta para evitar el lodo comezapatos, no la encontré en ninguna parte. Se habrá enterrada ya; a las estrellas de mar no les gusta el calor.

Just one of those November days

On Boundary Bay.

Looking toward Crescent Beach, at high tide.

And I'm too tired to say much more. Found some goodies, listened to birds, filled my shoes with wet sand.

Going to bed now.

A taste of summer

The rain stopped. The sun came out. It was even warm! We went to Crescent Beach while it lasted.

A glorious summery day!

At high tide, the beach is a mere strip between warm yellows and cool, cool blue.

Runner and train at the Point

Blinding sunlight gives black shadows, starry specks

Splashed stones in the sunshine

Yellow, orange, blue

A tangled mess of wild roses enlivened by so-yellow leaves and red rose hips

Detail of a wind-polished stump

Too-bright light eats a hole in my finger.

I couldn't resist posting that last one, even though the photo is ruined. The sun was low and far too intense for my eyes or the camera sensor, so I was shielding the lens with my hand until I could see the horizon. But the sun bit right through my finger, apparently. Chomp! And I didn't feel a thing!

2012: so far, so good.

We stood at the window, around noon, pondering: "Will the sun come out? Does it look more like rain? Will it, won't it ...?"

We decided to risk it, and drove down to Crescent Beach. And the sun came out!

Facing into the sun, the camera rebels. But this silvery sea is the result.

The rest of the photos will wait for tomorrow.

(If I believed in omens, I would say this presages a good year in 2012. But maybe it at least hints at the possibility of sun tomorrow, too. One can hope.)

A remedy for the grumpies

"Still raining!" This is the common greeting around here, these days. Yesterday was the eighth straight day of the stuff. Drizzly, cold, constant rain. And the weather people are promising us another two weeks of it before the first sunny day. In which I no longer believe. It is going to rain all winter, every single day; I'm sure it is. Bah!

That's the greyness speaking. Snow, at least, reflects and whitens the light; rain drowns it. At three in the afternoon, it was too dark to read outside. And we couldn't see the red colouring on the finches; all the birds looked drab grey and muddy black.

I needed to remind myself of sunshine; it exists, even here, even at the tail end of the year. Really. These photos, from the White Rock beach, barely nine days ago, prove it.

Orange dog carefully walking a log.

Common  goldeneye male.

Hello!

Mount Baker, reflecting the light. Look for the two eagles.

Robin's heart on a rock

By the railroad track two rabbits hid in the wild rose thicket until we had passed.

Red canoe and pink sky

Bare branches with crow's nest, turned red-brown by the sinking sun.

The rose hips are plentiful this year.

Folds in a sandstone rock.

Laurie sees a face in this log; I see a sleek otter curled up to sleep inside the scar.

A Skywatch post. 

On a hot, hot afternoon ...

This is the way to see Chinatown:

As far back, away from the light, as possible.

Out on the street, there is too much light, colour, movement, glare.

Too much fun, too.

We sat in the cool darkness and I drank iced coffee.

Blazing farewell to 2010

The last day of 2010, the sun put on a show for us. At dawn, it set the clouds on fire:

7:56 AM. Sunrise is at 8:07.

In the early afternoon, we drove in to New Westminster to check out the plantings along the Quay. It was chilly, barely above freezing (it had gone down to -6 overnight) and the air was clear. It seemed like nothing was between us and the sun. And it was outdoing itself, making up for all those dull days last week; I had to dig out my darkest sunglasses. On the quay, what with the sun glaring at the glassy river, the big-windowed offices and hotels, and all the white railings, my camera rebelled. "Too much light!" it said, blinking madly at me. I closed down the aperture, sped it up to its maximum, forgot to reduce the ISO. The camera kept blinking. Any photos I took turned out mostly white.

Laurie's camera was a bit more co-operative, but not much.

There's always a way around difficulties. We could take advantage of those shining windows, and take photos of the view in the reflections:

In a dusty window, a "vintage" photo of the river and the Alex Fraser bridge.

Coming around a building, I happened to look right up at the sun. Even through my sunglasses, it blinded me for a while. But for that instant, I saw a rainbow-like halo around it. Ice crystals.
This photo, taken through a corner office window, shows the halo, as I had seen it.

Logs and barges on the far shore, and the glare off the water.

I found a shadowy window, and got a photo of the mountains, the Port Mann, and the Skytrain bridges.

Paddlewheeler.

Another solution was to zoom 'way in, take macros, which reduces the light entering the lens.

Miniature cotoneaster.

Moss

White ornamental cabbage. Looks better close-up than at normal distances.

Or find bits of shade and then zoom in:

Lichen on a black tree trunk. 

Pansy under a hedge.

I even tried taking a photo through my sunglasses:

Ornamental cabbages and kale.

Laurie took photos of the reflections underneath the promenade:

White railings and the blackness under the pilings.

On the way back, now close to sunset, the light was dimming, finally. And with our backs to the sun, we didn't even have to squint!

Viburnum. I love how it flowers at New Year's every year! No leaves, just the flowers and buds.

Unidentified tree that keeps its leaves, long and skinny and curly, all winter.

We went up to 6th and 6th for tea. It was a relief to drive into the dark basement parking lot. When we left, just before 5, night was falling. Beautiful blue night!

A Skywatch post.

Heat wave, remembered

Such a short time ago ... It's raining now, has been at it all day. I'm wearing a sweater and have the heater on. But in that last week of July, every day was hotter than the one before. In Powell River, waiting for the ferry, I was dizzy and headachy from the heat; we were drinking salt water and draping damp cloths over the car windows.

We had over an hour to wait, lined up alongside monstrous trucks with heat waves floating above their engines. Ahead, though, beside the loading dock, was a wharf with boats and blue water. It looked cool, so we abandoned our makeshift shade and walked down the pier.

Shimmering waves.

It was cooler down there. Marginally. But the sun was glaring off the white boats and bouncing off the water. Our eyes rejected the light; so did the cameras. At least, we could wear sunglasses. And squint.

White-out.

Tank on the shore. One of a pair.

Red and black boat, detail.

Red is not the most comforting colour on a hot day.

Reflections work better; the light dims.

Light patterns reflected from the water to the hull of a boat. With rope.

The gas station, detail. Too hot at the moment for music.

Laurie challenged me to read this sign, using only the reflections.

Can you?

(Hint: look at the previous photo. No, the original is not there. It's overhead.)

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