The Jane loom is quite a piece of equipment. And it is sitting quietly in my spare room waiting for use. Wow. It is an efficient looking thing. I can’t say I am intimidated exactly, that is not the word, but I am weirdly grateful to have time to get used to it, to circle around it and look at it, before I use it. (There was one little piece missing, and this piece is winging its way from Saltspring Island. The customer service with this purchase has been exceptionally good, and I think the little missing piece is just a fluke. ) I have warped it with more of that never – ending blue yarn, in anticipation of weaving yet another bit of blue yardage, only this time to see what working with eight shafts is like.
So small projects it is, a pair of vanilla socks knit in short bursts to be nice to my hands. Gratefully spinning seems to be OK for the delicate digits. I am looking forward to weaving on the Jane with my handspun – the idea delights. There is that factor of bounce and life in hand spun yarns, and that has certainly been the case with the rigid heddle projects.
Two hundred and forty metres of merino, fingering weight give or take. The loom arrived a couple of weeks sooner than expected – poor me, I have to purchase and spin some yarn. And while I wait I am lurking on the weaving groups on Ravelry, googling images of all sorts of weaving, just letting my imagination drift. It is important to just let the mind wander a bit I think. It keeps the well from running dry.
More pictures from the Stein Valley.
The reaction ferry is an engineering marvel. It may be hard to see them, but this ferry is held by strong cables and steered by wooden rudders, pulled across by the river itself. It fits two vehicles and when one is on it, the current can be felt in the floorboards of your car. I always look at that rescue boat with speculation but have not had the nerve to ask. Later in the spring, when the snow melts in the mountains the Fraser will be too high and too full of debris for the ferry to run. Then it is down to foot power, crossing into Lytton by way of the railway bridge, or driving a winding, rugged road through the mountains to Lillooet. One year we backpacked in and on coming out the ferry had stopped running. We ran into a local guy who directed us to that winding road. “Its scenic” he said. It certainly was.
From deeper in the valley, near the site of ancient pictographs. I have always thought these rocks acted as guardians of the valley. I don’t know if that is what the people who live in the region believe, it is just an impression I have had on every trip.