Noted along the way.

This at the trailhead for Deeks Lake. There are many trails along the Sea to Sky corridor. I’ve walked a lot of them and not fully realized who actually holds the land here. I’m grateful for this generosity. 


Brandywine Falls near Whistler.


Cheakamus Lake. There are mountain peaks behind today’s fog.


Really? We need a sign to tell us this? I guess it too needs pointing out?

Up High

En-route to my friend’s place I hung out here. Skihist Provincial park day use area. High above the Thompson River in the Fraser Canyon.


The next day, the “invincible” car took me high above the Botanie Valley. The wildflowers were peaking I think. I watched a Barred Owl and a Red Tailed Hawk squabble after what looked like a surprise encounter. It was brief and noisy and ended with both birds flying in opposite directions each calling loudly. This right above my head essentially. 


It was difficult to heed my sore feet and stop walking. 

Thanks for letting me park the tin can in your yard Victor. 

Alone- Not Alone

   
   
Sometimes a hike with friends is just the thing. Sometimes its good to go for a quiet walk in the woods. After the Baden Powell trail I sat in the sun at Cates Park, where the second and third images are from. There was a First Nations man drumming on a secluded part of the beach- the drum seemed to echo the rhythm of a heartbeat. 

A Ramble or Two on the Other Side of the Continent

I think I have a bit of insight into why so many maritimers pine for their home.
We were both a bit sad to leave, Alison and I.

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Every photo is a bit of a cliche – like all those calendar pictures we have seen over the years. You know, the ones the bank gives away, with the shots of Peggy’s Cove. For someone from “away” these scenes are a bit unreal. Take my word, it is rather wonderful to be walking here. A calendar photo doesn’t come close, no matter how skilled, in conveying the size of the sky and the taste of the wind.

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When you’ve spent all your time on the west side of the continent, a walk on the east side has such novelty. Even the trees are just a bit different, as is the underbrush. Light and air get through, and bursts of bird song was our accompaniment through the woods. What a treat to be informed, on one of our walks, that we had passed through a grove of sugar maples.

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Our cottage is one of the little white specks on the point. We went to the viewpoint on Smokey Point, just to say we did.

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This was a little guy we met at one of the hot tourist attractions. How to tell you aren’t in the big city anymore – a yarn shop with sheep attached. Purchases may have been made.