out there...

I've been trying to write this post for a couple days now. I've been trying to write about our visit to the richly historical and beautiful Yuquot. About pushing myself well out of my comfort zone just to paddle there. And exploring along the coast of Nootka Island amongst more humpbacks and sea lions.

But it's just not working. I hope you'll enjoy the photos (and click through to flickr for a little more info).

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I'm feeling even more off kilter than usual this week. Focus is not a big skill of mine right now. I feel like I say that a lot. If you think I never get anything done, you're not the only one. That Avett Brothers song keeps running through my head... "I haven't finished a thing since I started my life, I don't feel much like starting now / walking down lonely has worked like a charm, I'm the only one I have to let down." Wow, this post got depressing real quick, didn't it? Best I get back to packing, as no one wants to travel down the rabbit hole to see how deep my insecurities really go.

nootka part two...

this is a continuation from yesterday's post.

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I awoke in the twilight before dawn to the shriek of eagles high in the trees. A moment later I heard the telltale blows of a whale in the bay and pulled myself from the last remnants of sleep to go investigate. But the whale disappeared around the point as I stepped out on the rocks, leaving me to admire the pink glow lighting the peaks of Nootka Island in the distance. I sat on the ragged shore and watched the tide creep slowly in, listening to then constant patter of mackerel jumping, then went back to the tent in time to hear AK's 7:30 alarm sound. After a simple breakfast we packed up and got on the water.

Almost immediately we spotted a blow ahead; this humpback slipped quietly between us and the shore. Around another point and the wind was picking up from the west, coming straight at us. We wound through the channels, reassessing our plans but continuing forward for now. Another whale popped up ahead, in a narrow channel between two islands. We clung close to the larger one, hoping not to get in his way. He emerged for a few breaths, tucked up against the opposite islet, then came up in a froth to feed. Our paddles were still in our hands, eyes spellbound.

We paddled out around the isthmus of Bligh Island, mostly protected but feeling a bit of the quickening wind. Our goal for the day had been Burdwood Bay, a wide stretch of sand across from Friendly Cove, requiring a larger crossing exposed to the open ocean. Nootka Sound is a winding labyrinth of islands offering sheltered spots to explore, but the rugged coastline is also regular host to wild storms, where waves explode off rocks to touch the treetops high above. We moved along our channel until we could get a view between two islands. At the same time we listened to the marine forecast on the VHF. Gale warning, said the monotone voice over the airwaves. Hmmm...

After a bit of exploring, slipping through the shallows between islets where sea stars and oysters carpeted the seafloor, we headed back to the isthmus to set up camp. A sea otter popped up to spend a few moments with us, calmly floating away on its back. We set up camp on a flat spot at the edge of the forest, including a communal tarp for cooking and sitting under as the rain set in.

Throughout the afternoon brief squalls moved through, pounding rain and stirring up the sea, only to leave it flat calm moments later. We continued to spot whale spouts on both sides of the isthmus, but the real show set up in our little bay. Just like the humpbacks, California sea lions were busy in the sound, gorging on mackerel. Our bay was teaming with them, and a motley crew of sea lions was corralling dinner (and snacks, and more dessert, and...). While much of the action took place below, the beasts would chase the schools of mackerel until the fish would swell at the surface, even jumping clear of the water in their efforts to avoid those grizzly-like jaws (see video above). Over and over this was repeated as the night crept on, the shhhhhhhhh of the disturbed sea surface lulling our ears as we watched. Even as we crawled into our sleeping bags the feast continued, and the raucous chorus of sea lion barks crept into our dreams.

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there are new mushrooms and a coyote in the shop.

in the land of the singing whales...

the main voice in the video is my friend's, not mine - just because several people have mentioned it

* fair warning, there will probably be several posts coming up about our trip to nootka sound. i'll probably intersperse them with posts about crafting, etc., but be prepared for me to wax a bit poetic about nature (even more so that usual!).

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The good omens started as soon as we arrived at Cougar Creek, and quickly spotted the misty blow of a humpback whale across the inlet. Actually, it could be argued that the first good sign appeared all the way on the other side of the island that morning, where i sat on the foreshore as a sea lion lazily worked his way up Discovery Passage. Nonetheless, when we pushed our kayaks out onto the water at 5:30 in the evening we had our eyes peeled for whales. Sure enough, as we paddled around the headland and into the wider channel, more spouts appeared, at least six spread out in the distance. We paddled easily in the waning late afternoon breeze, the sun creating a path of jewels shimmering on the sea surface. Directly in our path ahead was a plume of mist coming up at frequent intervals, a little closer than the others. We elected to veer slightly left and skirt around the active whale. Yet as we drew nearer it surfaced abruptly, just 100 feet ahead. It came up again in a large exhale of mist, then its back arched steeply and the tail broke the surface dripping water. It slipped below and all was quiet. We waited, unsure of the humpback's plans. Our kayaks slipped forward silently, paddles hovering just above the surface, eyes and ears alert to every bit of movement or sound. As I turned my head to check behind me it came up with a blast, about 30 feet to the right and behind. Our hearts jumped up in our throats and a swear word or two escaped our lips. The humpback continued moving away behind us and slowly we started forward again.

Not farther along and there was another spout straight ahead, but this one passed to our starboard side with less fuss. I mused that I hoped we could see the whales from our campsite, but AK assured me our destination bay was much too small and tucked away for any whales to come in. It seemed true, as we guided our boats carefully through rocks to the tiny beach where we made our camp. In the fading light we set up our tents and got to work making dinner. Then, clearly through the trees, a sound that could only be a whale blow; a resolute exhale of breath. With high tide cutting off the shoreline route we set off through the woods, over branches and under bushes, climbing moss covered bluffs in an attempt to reach the point. AK was first out of the bush, calling to us as we scrambled over the rocks. Gaining a vantage point once out in the open, we understood his jubilation. A large humpback was making its steady way in our bay, arching and diving as it went.

In the low light I struggled with my camera, knowing photos would be nearly impossible even under the brightening half moon. We waited, breathless. A rough circle of bubbles began to form on the surface, and then the gaping mouth of the whale thrust through it, pointing straight up to the deep blue sky as it swallowed a gullet-full of fish along with innumerable gallons of seawater. The whale gathered a few breaths and then repeated the process at least a half dozen more times. In our spellbound state we had barely noticed that the night had taken over, but we were reluctant to leave. Farther out along the shore two more humpbacks blew spouts, and our whale moved out to join them. The three lunge fed together by the pale light of the moon.

As we picked our way back to camp to eat dinner a haunting sound broke the stillness. The alien song of the humpback whales, a sound I can't even begin to describe, came to us through the darkness in a serenade. As we climbed into our sleeping bags, we fell asleep to the humpback's song and the occasional shotgun-like crack as a whale breached clear of the sea. Our trip had just started, but we felt welcomed into the sound with wide flukes, er, arms.

so much more to come...

back...

We're back from our escape. A few days spent kayaking in Nootka Sound, on the wild wet (and I mean that quite literally) coast of Vancouver Island. The weather was a bit, ahem, inclement, but the wildlife viewing more than made up for it. The moment we arrived at our put-in point, a humpback whale was spouting out in the channel. We proceeded to see humpback whales at every turn, including some close encounters while in our kayaks, from on shore, and even fell asleep the first night listing to the whales singing. Incredible. Add to that an equally abundant sea lion population (both species in the area to eat large schools of mackerel), quite a few sea otters, porpoises, and a lot more other creatures. It filled us up. I don't have too many photos of the wildlings, both because my camera generally stays safely tucked away while I'm paddling through unpredictable waters and due to the wildlife's knack for putting on prime performances just as the daylight is disappearing. But I have a few, plus other shots of the scenery and beauty of the sound. Back soon with more pics.

night / morning

home again after a blissful weekend at the beach. much sand, sun and saltwater, and falling asleep under the light of a bright moon. soon it's time to crawl into a real bed, but i'll be back again tomorrow with some more shots. hope your weekend was a good one.

getting back to it...

a few shots from the weekend, a deep breath taken by the western sea. there was sideways rain, thundering hail, even a fresh dusting of snow our last morning. but in between there was also a good dose of vitamin d, beautiful sunshine to warm your bones, and possibly the most vibrant rainbow i have ever seen. there was also a bit of exploring, lots of good food and drink, and so much laughter.

as usual though, i'm having trouble getting back into it this week, so far feeling quite unfocused as the to-do list looms over me. it took all my energy last night to wrap up a few packages to head out in the post today. tonight though, i must get back to work.

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a few things:
• i made these spicy lentil wraps last night for dinner - so tasty! (not to mention healthy after many goodies eaten on the weekend)
• it wasn't a total indulge fest though - i made this beet hummus to take along and it was awesome.
• have you seen the pieces Margie is working on right now? i'm in awe of this one especially.

july calendar

my apologies for not getting this up earlier, everything seems a little behind schedule these days. but hey, it's only the first of the month, so really it's just in time! i hope you will enjoy a new calendar for july - click the image to download. happy canada day! as seems to be the general trend this year, mother nature keeps forgetting it should be summer around these parts, and today is grey and gloomy and chilly. so i looked back in my photo files to last july and found this shot from a hike A and i took to a remote west coast beach. i hope this photo puts you right inside the sea cave with me, or exploring the ragged shoreline in the sunshine, looking for beach treasures. summer as it should be on the coast.

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as part of my participation in poppytalk's handmade market this month, there is a little post about me on their blog today. yay!

cedar weaving...

as mentioned, yesterday my friend Em showed me how to do traditional cedar weaving, starting from harvesting the cedar bark all the way up to making a final product. i tried to take photos of steps along the way. please be assured that some of the bark can be removed from the tree without permanently hurting it - the first nations of the pacific northwest have been using cedar bark for thousands of years in this way. in fact not far from the tree we picked we found another tree that had been "culturally modified" in the same way - and saw how the bark was growing back to cover the scar.



first up, we found a suitable tree, a western red cedar, and then made a little offering and thanked the tree for sharing with us. then she made the first cut. we made a cut horizontally across a section of bark, and then a vertical slice on each side until we could pry up a section to grab hold of.



then we pulled up and the bark released along a length of the trunk until it came free. we pulled off several thin sections with a bit of work, although the bark does come off fairly easily in this way.



above you can see a cross section of the tree, showing the inner bark between the rough outer bark and the smooth wood of the tree. after pulling the bark from the tree, we thanked the tree again, and began on the next step. we peeled the desired inner layer from the outer bark. then we put the inner bark in a tub of water to soak and soften.



after the bark has softened, it often needs further work by making thinner strips that are easier to work with. Em then taught me to make basic cordage, which can be used for a variety of things but makes great bracelets and necklaces. but i still have a fair bit of cedar left, so i am doing some further research on weaving. perhaps eventually i will be able to make a hat like this.



the peoples of the pacific northwest traditionally use cedar for a variety of items including clothing and hats. if you are interested in a comprehensive look at how cedar plays a part in the first nations cultures of the coast, hilary stewart's book cedar is a wonderful resource. i am also hoping to perhaps incorporate some of the cedar into my stitch work; i would love to bring a bit more of the coast into my work this way.

sea anemones, two ways

on my recent wanderings on a nearby beach, i have been surprised at the way that many sea anemones nestle in sand, rather than clinging to exposed rocks as i am used to. i've since realized that of course there are many types of anemones around here, and each has their preferred habitat. this led to these new stitched pieces, continuing in my shore fragments series. on left is a moonglow anemone (similar to this one), on a sandy spot with a few clamshells and other shore debris. on the right are a pair of giant green anemones tucked under a barnacled rock.



each cloth measures roughly 8"x8". while on my last fragments piece i added a braided cord for hanging, i am thinking these would look nice framed with a wide white mat, and i think i will mount them on archival stock so that they are ready for framing. a shadow box frame would work well so that the glass will not touch the layers of fabric. i will let you know when they are available in the shop



with pretty much all my work originating in the wilds of the west coast, the creatures that inhabit this area are very important to me. there are areas of this coast that are natural jewels, where the way of life has been the same for thousands of years. recently, an oil company from the alberta tarsands is lobbying to build a pipeline over the rocky mountains and across northern bc to the coast, crossing many sensitive watersheds. once this dirty crude reaches the coast, it will be loaded on tanker ships to head to markets overseas. there are no oil tankers on this coast right now. annie wrote about this recently, as she lives much closer to the affected area than i do. however, if there is an oil spill on this coast, we will all be affected. and with our winding waterways with many islands and tidal challenges, even the oil company admits it is a matter of when, not if that spill will come. if you get a chance, i highly recommend the 44 minute documentary spoil. it is a breathtakingly beautiful look at the great bear rainforest, and shows what would be lost if oil tankers are allowed on the coast. i try not to preach very often, but this is a huge issue that could change our coast irreparably. i spent the whole film on the verge of welling up, both in awe at the scenery of the coast, and how it could all disappear.

okay, enough out of me. i hope you are having a good (long, if you are in canada) weekend. i am headed out later this morning with my friend who is going to show me how to harvest some cedar bark for weaving. i have been wanting to try this traditional first nations activity for a while - i will share more if i am successful in my weaving!

seven hour road trip...

6pm - drive 3 hours-ish west, to the open coast. 10pm - turn around and follow your trail home. 1:30, go to sleep. yup, we made a very quick road trip yesterday. see, A is leaving on a trip tomorrow, departing by kayak from a remote town northwest of here tucked away up an inlet, and paddling the winding passageways of nootka sound and then out along the open coastline south to clayoquot sound and finally finishing in tofino. i dream about tagging along, but my kayaking skills are not up for open water, especially compared to his experienced crew. but since he and his two paddling partners needed to shuttle a car to tofino to be waiting for them upon their return, i tagged along for the ride, camera in hand (as usual). here are a few shots along the way.



cathedral grove is one of the first landmarks you come across after leaving the main freeway to follow winding highway 4 to the west coast. aptly named, as you will be looking to the heavens to find the tops of most of the trees, stout and sturdy cedars and douglas firs hundreds of years old.



and apparently it was black bear night along the highway! i think i did a good job of willing them there, as while we were driving alongside where a river flows and dips over gravel bars i said "there's a bear! no, not really." yeah, i'm hilarious. but nonethelesss, not five minutes later we were curving around a corner and A pointed, "well there's a bear." and there was.



this black bear snuffled along in the ditch beside the road, not two metres from the car, eating grass. he wasn't the least concerned about us. i don't really like that, as i think we both should have a healthy fear of each other. but at least he didn't object my camera snapping, although the waning daylight made it hard to get sharp shots (my apologies).



once we left him, not another five minutes along, we spotted mama bear and two cubs perched on the edge of the road where it dips quickly down into forest, and stopped again. the cubs disappeared below our view while mom stayed at the road, eating and watching. while this highway is generally fairly quiet, we found ourselves joined by several more cars within a few minutes, stopping to have a boo. i suppose this was more than mom liked, and suddenly the cubs appeared again, but this time hurriedly shimmying their way up the nearest tree, er, telephone pole. and this was definitely becoming a trip where i cursed myself for not bringing the telephoto lens, although the falling darkness was making shooting with my regular lens hard enough. but with mama guarding the bottom of the pole there was no desire for me to get closer. it seemed much safer to remain in my perch peeping out A's sunroof.



after a few minutes it seemed best to leave the threesome in peace and we continued on our way, stopping only once more for me to snap a few shots at my favourite little hilltop lake along the route.



the light faded as we drove along, catching the pinkening sky along huge kennedy lake in our last stretch before the coast. daylight was all but gone as we drove past the open shores of long beach and into town. after a short wait our friends caught up with us and we parked one car, piled together in the other, and headed home in darkness, to finally fall exhausted into bed well into saturday morning.

fresh air...

home again, home again, jiggety jig. as i ease myself back into the everyday rhythm of life and mentally prepare for heading back to work tomorrow, i thought we could all use a few images to bring a breath of fresh air into the start of the week. it was a wetter than desired weekend, but beautiful nonetheless (always). plunged into the cold ocean for a bit of surfing (with thick neoprene to keep warm), walked down long expanses of sand bent against the wind (and sometimes pouring rain), slipped between ragged trees in a rainforest, watched perhaps too many movies, drank my fair share of wine & ate too much chocolate, and laughed many good long belly laughs. and my camera kept busy snapping all the lush scenery to be found.





















and i wore sandals! the air is fresh with the spring and warmer weather and i'm hoping to carry my renewed spirit into the rest of the week.