Friends, laughter, and, oh ya, photography.
"Hey, let's go two hours west of Thunder Bay, Ontario at the end of November for a self directed photography workshop." Really!?!
Isn't it cold that time of year? Won't there be snow and ice? What!?! The cabin we rented has no running water?? Not to mention is in the middle of nowhere. Jeez Louise!!
Pack your parka Alice, we're off to Quetico Provincial Park for whatever comes our way.
What came our way was an absolutely fantastic trip full of laughter, deepening of friendships, the serenity that comes with the quiet cold of northern Ontario and a new found appreciation for saying 'yes' to experiences.
Snow gently landed on our windshield as the three of us made our way west from Thunder Bay. The danger of hitting a moose after dark was real so our goal was to make it to the park before sunset. Had me wondering if this venture was a vacation or simply a game of chicken - Nature vs Human Numbskulls.
By happenstance, upon entering the deserted park we ran into Jason, a park ranger. I'm sure with thoughts of "OMG city girls in his head" he kindly guided us straight to our cabin. He let us know that we were the only ones in the entire provincial park. And his name was JASON!
Stepping over the threshold of our cabin the three of us were dumfounded when we saw that it was a single room cabin. Certainly didn't have to do much head swiveling to take in the whole place. We were going to have to be neat and definitely live out of our bags.
First order of business was to find the latrine. The three of us headed in the direction Jason had pointed. The sky was cloud filled and the park was being enveloped by darkness. It was at this point I realized that this 'vacation' would require a certain symbiosis among the three of us. Trust all of a sudden became paramount. I didn't expect anything disatrous to happen, it wasn't like we were attempting to summit Mount Everest, but still we needed to rely on each other to care for one another.
I love the our of doors but it still amazes me how a benign day lit landscape can become a menacing threat once the light of day disappears. Each sound is magnified and turned into a charging moose or a wolf with bloodthirsty fangs. With my vision limited and my ears as big as saucers I certainly made night time water getting, from the nearby lake, a very efficient activity. One of those challenges in life that is supposed to make me stronger I suppose.
Bundled up, our day hikes were marvelous. We stopped every so often to try to capture a shot but really the beauty of the day was in the soaking up of the peaceful atmosphere while enjoying the simplicity of it all. Besides seeing a few squirrels and a million rabbit tracks, a friendly Grey Jay was the only wildlife we saw. Skidding down some hills, preventing one of our mates from taking a picture of herself in front of a possible bear's den and having our Grey Jay dive bomb us made for the excitement of the day.
Smokey campfires, cooking (beer chicken on the BBQ), lively scrabble games, a little drinking, storytelling, futon fighting, photo reviewing thoroughly occupied our evenings. The ease with which we interacted was as refreshing as the cold November air.
Not surprisingly, some would say that this was not a vacation they would enjoy. For me, eventhough I could literally see the lake freezing, it was a wonderful trip. The three of us are already talking of backcountry trekking next SUMMER!! LOL
Spectacular 7000 foot coral reef drop off.
Today I felt as though my mere matter had no business being between the sun's penetrating rays and the ground. The thermometer is telling me that it is only 32 degrees, however, a few seconds of out right exposure was all my skin could manage before feeling as though my body had been put under the broiler in an oven. I marvel at those frolicking here and there without appearing at all concerned about internally combusting. Seems I am a wee bit sensitive to heat.
The white sand beach is beyond inviting. Soft sand squeezing between my toes has me wanting everyone to take turns molding the sand around their feet. Looking up from the sifting sand my eyes are treated to the shades of blue that only the ocean can conjure up.
I place my snorkeling equipment on the lounger while I put on a t-shirt. Visions of a thoroughly cooked snorkeler's back are erased with the donning of the protective layer. Snorkeling equipment in hand, I head to the warm calm water of the Atlantic Ocean. Janet, Sasha and Jaime are of the adventurous sort as well.
Our destination....the reef drop off. Turks and Caicos is home to the third largest reef system in the world. Most impressive is the 7000 shear cliff drop to the depths of the ocean. Trying not to exaggerate, I would say we were required to swim a kilometre out from shore to reach the miraculous drop. The darkest of blue coloured water delineated the reef drop off point.
With only the sounds of my breathing and the odd heave hoe blow on my snorkel keeping me company I take in the sights of the ocean floor. Desert like in its colouring and terrain, it is not intimidating in the least. Depths of five to thirty feet allow me to clearly see my surroundings. I am enjoying the comfortable solitude.
Raising my head I see we still have a fair distance to cover before reaching our detination. Placing my face back in the snorkeler's position I begin to wonder how a 7000 foot drop effects the ocean. Will a powerful current assume the driver's seat of our destiniy? Will the temperature of the water plummet? Not deterred we continue on our quest.
With a few meters to go I can see the edge of the reef. My heart rate accelerates even as I type this. Like taking a leap off a cliff we swim out over the edge. Our bodies now suspended over nothingness, the seemingly supportive shallow waters no longer beneath us. The breathtaking mystery of the abyss is complicated in that it is both frightening and exhilarating. Outer space is a thought that comes to mind. Floating weightless with endless darkness as the foreground and background.
I am captivated.
Why New Brunswick? A formidable answer....the town of St. Andrews by-the-sea.
The roar of the prop plane engine intensified. The scene outside my window began to blur as the plane gathered speed. Lifting off, I felt like I was leaving home.
On this four night family vacation I came to learn that the Canadian province of New Brunswick has a seaside gem of a town named St. Andrews by-the-sea. The town left a wonderfully warm impression.
Located on the Bay of Fundy we watched the rise and fall of the greatest tidal change in the world. The ocean's ebbing and flowing enhanced the unique character of the town. Brightly coloured houses, quaint shops, seaside patios and a captivating history solidified the towns place in authenticity.
Exploring what the town had to offer had us whale watching, sea kayaking, taking a jeep tour of Ministers Island, experiencing the Thursday morning town market, walking on the ocean floor, stepping into the cells of the town's historical prison, wandering Kingsbrae Gardens, brousing many quaint local shops and enjoying great meals.
Rich in wonderful subtlties this small town holds more than it's own as a destination.
W.B. Yeats was a driving force behind the Irish literary Revival. In 1932 he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature for what the committee described as “inspired poetry, which in a highly artistic form gives expression to the spirit of the whole nation.”
Visiting County Sligo I was drawn to the bronze statue of William Butler Yeats. Crouching down on a bronze cloth which held the words of his poem it appeared as though he was reading them. So moved by this poem I chose to place the poem in our Journal Entires.
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, / Enwrought with golden and silver light, / The blue and the dim and the dark cloths / Of night and light and the half-light, / I would spread the cloths under your feet: / But I, being poor, have only my dreams; / I have spread my dreams under your feet; / Tread softly because you tread on my dreams
The horses pulling the jaunting car whinned. In jostling their heads the jingle, jangle of their bit and harnesses set me back in time.
A time where kings and queens ruled and getting about was a horses domain. It was a beauty of a day. The breeze passing by created a rustle in the leaves of the trees lining the long paved path leading us deep into Killarney National Park. The clip clop of the horses hooves pleasantly broke the romantic silence. The partially canoped laneway majestically opened up to Muckross House. With it's spectacular gardens and mountainous backdrop is a sight to see. I took note of the old country setting and massive trees. The most outstanding memory of the inside of the house was a huge room with two small beds. It was the obsurdity of the demension descrepancy that had me raising an eyebrow. In the 1850's, in preparation for Queen Victoria's visit in 1861, extensive renovations were undertaken. The cost to prepare for such a visit is said to have contributed to the financial difficulties incurred by the owner and the eventual sale of the property. Built in Tudor style with sixty-five rooms it is, most certainly, a house fit for royalty.
Historically - In 1932 Musckross House and it 11,000 acre estate was presented to the Irish Nation. This property formed the basis of present day Killarney National Park.