Wandering And Wondering

Mid-September. I’m anchored in a placid cove, the rain is gently pattering down. Darkness came early this evening. I tip-toed in through the narrow rocky entrance in the dark and now sit peacefully in less than twenty feet of water. I’m on my way to Silva Bay again to get the old diesel running in that little schooner. First I had to make repairs in ‘Seafire’ and spent two hours after arriving here contorted into the bilge repairing a leak in the shaft log. It’s fixed and I won’t have to sleep in a sinking boat. How do people manage in boats they can’t fix themselves? Well manage they do but I’m happy to be self-sufficient.

Back in Ladysmith the movie making is in full swing. The streets were crowded with people trying to catch a glimpse of something, anything and anyone. There was a movie to be made off-set of the crowds. I’m happy to be where I am tonight with the rain spattering down and an aromatic pizza bakes in the oven. Let it rain, let it blow, I’m snug in my little home.

A few blogs back I simply posted photos with interesting captions and guess what yer gonna git again. The feed-back was very positive and so here we go once more.

Wandering into the magic, and the mystic of late summer. It goes by so quickly.
Think you’ve got problems? Imagine owning this beautiful wooden monster. Imagine the boathouse!
No, not somewhere in Mexico but rather a campground on Gabriola Island. Please, no dog-washing!
An Australian Cedar. You know the joke: “Brace yerself Sheila!”
It’s complicated
The bumper crop of blackberries this year far exceeded what people could pick. As the berries became over-ripe, bees and wasps became drunk on the fermenting berries. Now dessicated, the berries will provide excellent winter forage for the birds.
Right then!
The bicycle remained secured to a stout chain with an old boot lace. However, the seat, the chain and both wheels had been stolen.
Long, long after the old tree had been cut down and hauled away, its progeny wash firmly established and thriving.
Resplendent in its ancient demise, the old charred cedar stump still reaches for the light.
Watching from the edge of the forest, wild creatures regularly surveyed what happened in the fields..
One day at the end of summer, the old swimming hole was suddenly quiet. its clear water was empty and ran placidly and pure.
Where dogs and children climb out of the water then leap, screaming with delight, back in again.
Well past middle age, he still looked at the wonders of the forest with the blue-eyed wonder of the boy he had been most of his life.
Abandoned in the forest, the old hay rake remained well spoken.
It’s just fungus man! Picked,baked in an oven then lit to smoulder, these make an excellent although pungent insect repellant.
I will strangle you, ya old stump.
A bumper crop of maple seeds and datum of the passing of summer.
THe way we were
The way we are
It was not a place to visit on a moonlit night yet during the day dogs and children loved to explore.
The old head rig stok like an abandoned neolithic alter where virgins were led to the top and then sacrificed by the big wheel shamans who cast them into the bottomless pit beneath.
It could be imagined that this donkey was descended from those used to haul loads into the sky on the big wheel.
An old coal chute in a back alley of Ladysmith. The date on the cast handle is 1895
TILT! A self-dumping log barge is pumped back to level in preparation to head back up the coast for another load. The logs will be sorted and the best will be reloaded onto a ship bound for Asia. Several ship loads of raw timber leave our coast every week. All the while, our sawmills are closed due to lack of a good log supply. You figure it out!
In morbid silence the crowd watched as the old woman was hoisted aloft with a noose around her neck. Then the rope broke and she silently walked away with her rope necklace through the opening which parted from her path because they knew, now, that she was indeed a witch.

I arrived in Silva Bay the following morning and rafted onto ‘Aja’ once again. A long day followed squirming my ribs into impossible spots freeing badly corroded bits, trouble-shooting wiring, clearing water from tanks and gearboxes. Finally the moment came, wires were jumped and blappety, blap, blap the poor mistreated little Yanmar sprang eagerly into life after a very troubled two-year sleep. Fixing boats is one of those things that you do, in part, because it feels so good when you’re done. My old bones protest loudly at the continuing abuse and it’s time to move on to other things. Maybe if I wash my face and hurry back to Ladysmith, those Paramount picture people might…! Uh huh.

Not sure what these gorgeous mauve flowers are, I was amazed to find them blooming on a path in mid-September. Old tales claim that new violets blooming in the fall herald a death or an epidemic.
And finally, a mobile phone still life.

 

IF you smile when no one else is around,you really mean it.”… Andy Rooney

The Wharfinger’s Zuchinni

“Just walk on by and take that floppy-eared, skinny-flippered creature with you. Jack is fascinated with the temerity of these seals.

Suddenly the evenings are noticeably shorter; and cooler. The morning light comes a little later each day. A few days ago we had a lovely warm rain. After our dry smokey weather it felt grand. That is despite all the wetness of Shearwater which I’ve sworn I was so fed up with. The crickets chirped on through the downpour just as they do now that it has dried again. Suddenly we’re in mid-summer. There is a mild sense of the distant yet approaching winter. We savour the beauty of each day, and it’s fading flowers, knowing nothing is forever. Part of the fascination is knowing how fleeting the moment is.

On the morning tide. This derelict, capsized sloop was towed in to the boat ramp during the night. It was later dragged ashore and put on a trailer. Hopefully it will sail again some day.
Drifting and dreaming. a long passage northward with smoke obscuring the horizon.I passed this beautiful boat while delivering another vessel to a shipyard in Campbell River.
The Dream. A soft focus image to portray the sense of glassy water and low visibility.
Crossing The Bar. Northbound from Comox requires a circuitous route across a shallow bar and around Cape Lazo. There’s a sailboat ahead on the starboard bow.
Fishing for pinks. It is a time of harvest and bounty. Coho salmon are spawning and provide feisty sport for fly fishermen. They’re out there in their chest waders from first light to last.
Crows in a weeping willow. Their dry rasping calls are an anthem of midsummer.
Look up. A view from my table in the pub.
Ah summer! The Blackfin Pub in Comox has an amazing panoramic view.

There is an abundance of fresh produce. Even the wharfinger’s flower box has a tumbling wealth of vegetables. The tomatoes are ripening and the zuchinni is ready. Happily adopting the lazy spirit of the season I’m posting this blog as a photo essay. See you at the beach. I’ll be under the Corona umbrella.

The Wharfinger’s Zuchinni
Coming down. What better way to chill out in the evening than a flight in a home-built Sopwith Camel replica?
Jack and Fred row back from the beach. Jill took this shot of us returning from our dawn patrol.
Jack and Jill on the beach at low tide.
Jack’s Bliss. A tidal pool is all he needs for day-long self amusement.
I can’t get enough. the views on the sandy northern tip of Denman Island amaze me.
Beach Apples
This old apple tree, rooted in sand, manages to still bear fruit!

 “A little bit of summer is what the whole year is all about.”
John Mayer