28 Valentines

A picture of two people admiring the view of the Athabasca Glacier from Wilcox Pass, two people who have enjoyed a few hikes together over the past 28 Valentine’s Days. Strollmates 💜

On Valentine’s Day, I found myself scrolling through Instagram seeing many photos of couples celebrating their time together. This prompted me to sift back through photos of us, pretty much all of which were taken on hikes. We have a few that we like, but I wanted something that was more about the scenery and not just a picture of the two of us.

I settled on this photo taken in Wilcox Pass back in 2009, with its grand view over the valley and the Athabasca Glacier below. It appeals to me because the fact that we are also looking at the view makes it feel like a viewer could be there with us, rather than just looking at a photo of us.

The word strollmates came to my attention via our favourite guide-book authors, Kathy and Craig Copeland (who, coincidentally, have a very similar photo of the two of them on their current home page!). I don’t know if they coined the term or heard it from someone else but they talked about finding your “strollmate”, someone with whom you want to be while hiking. I immediately felt that summed up the two of us, and I’ve since helped spread that definition to a few other fellow hikers.

This then prompted me to add up how many Valentine’s Days we’d shared. Twenty-eight. And then how many miles or kilometres we’ve walked together in that time. Thousands, many thousands. Truly, strollmates.

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Snowmageddon 2019

I went out for a wander in the snow to experience Vancouver’s own version of Snowmageddon 2019. My favourite first signs of spring got a timely reminder of winter (I guess that pesky rodent saw its shadow last week) and if you zoom in on the photo you might be able to see some cute little snowflakes.

And snow it continues… Snowmageddon 2019 is well and truly here! I love seeing snow on the beach, even one that’s decorated with a stranded yacht.

It’s been a long time coming but we finally get some wintry weather in Vancouver. Despite its rainy and mild reputation, Vancouver does see some snow most winters, invariably causing the city to grind to a halt as the car drivers freak out and the buses try and get up hills without winter tyres. At least it started on a weekend so we could get outside to admire it before it turned to a frozen or slushy mess.

I took quite a few photos that I was happy with, and my original plan was to post five or six of them on Instagram. For some reason I preferred the idea of separate posts to a multi-photo post but I probably should have stuck with the latter as I ran out of steam posting the individual photos.

One of the problems with a multi-photo post is that it’s the first photo that is the one that catches a viewer’s attention; if that’s not the strongest of the bunch then the viewer probably is not going feel inspired to swipe to see the others. Now I know that Instagram will show the second in a group if you didn’t swipe the first time but I don’t want to rely on that. I’d prefer that my photos were noticed first time round (uh oh, that begins to sound like I’m being sucked in to the whole social media game…). But often the first photo of a group isn’t always the one that makes the most sense, to me at least.

So there’s always some tension when creating a multi-photo post (and that’s before you get to the issue of remembering the exact sequence so you can write a meaningful caption!), which, at some unconscious level, is probably behind my initial thinking about posting the photos separately. Alas in this instance I only had the energy/inspiration to post the first two and so my approach failed.

With that in mind, let’s get to the two photos above. The first is a no-brainer for me: colourful witch hazel blooms wearing a hat of pure white snow? I’ll take that picture every time, especially for a tree like this one with the multi-coloured flowers. I don’t think I realized at the time that I could make out the individual snowflakes so I was really pleased to notice that when I viewed the photos on my laptop. Instant post!

The second appealed to me for several reasons. There’s the obvious feature of the snow on the beach, especially as it’s right up to the water’s edge. The second is how the city fades into the background, the high-rises barely visible across False Creek. Third is the stranded yacht, which we’d seen being buffeted by high waves a week or two earlier, having dragged its anchor in the storm. Finally, the beach is empty, a rare sight indeed. This is a popular view in the city, but there’s one thing about that that bugs me: the beach is just too straight! It drags my eye to the middle and forces me to look there, making it hard for the other elements in the scene to be appreciated. Ideally I could have taken a few steps to my left to keep some perspective along the edge of the beach but what can’t be seen is a large tree that would make that shot impossible.

And there you have it. Only a couple of photos from the storm of the year. If I post some more on Instagram I may add them to this article. But don’t hold your breath…

Expansive peace

A few throwback-Thursday favourites from our Heather Trail backpacking trip last September. A great hike to soak up some wide open alpine space and big skies…

Our decision to hike the Heather Trail on the Labour Day weekend was made as we approached Hope along Highway 1. Do we take the turnoff and continue into the Fraser Canyon towards the Stein Valley, or head for the alpine of the Heather Trail? In the end the weather looked good enough for a few days of alpine enjoyment, and so we continued on to Highway 3 and into Manning Park.

It turned out to be an inspired move. We set off under cool, cloudy skies and began our 12 km hike in to Kicking Horse campground. Late afternoon sunshine caught up with us near the final pass, bathing the meadows in warm light (photos 1 and 2) for some wonderful scenes. These two photos are among my favourites from the entire trip.

We found a suitable spot for our tent and enjoyed as quiet a night as we’ve ever experienced in the backcountry with not even the slightest breeze to ripple the fly sheet. I remember lying in my sleeping bag, probably around 1 or 2 am, holding my breath and enjoying the sheer weight of the silence.

The next day we hauled ourselves off in the direction of Nicomen Lake for a day’s hiking. We passed through more expansive meadows below azure skies, meeting barely a handful people along the way. (At least, until the ridge above Nicomen Lake itself.) We enjoyed lunch on a peak high above the lake (photo 3) before retracing our steps.

The light was perfect on our return, though we could see the beginnings of some dramatic clouds over the summit of Third Brother (fourth photo), portents of the weather to come that night and the following morning. The square format of this photo doesn’t really do justice to the size of the meadows we were passing through.

As we neared the campground we opted to pick our way carefully across country to the windy summit of Fourth Brother (photo 5) to enjoy a view we hadn’t experienced before. Then back to the tent, a rainy night followed by a snowy morning, and a steady hike back to the car.

It was only three days but it was some of the most enjoyable hiking and camping we’ve had, adding to some of the best hiking and camping we’d already savoured over the summer. Gambling on the Heather Trail was definitely the right decision.

Before the eclipse

Before the eclipse – the full moon rises over the mountains between Stave and Harrison Lakes.

I was heading back to the car having finished yet another round of attempting to photograph bald eagles in flight when I thought to check the time of moonrise. It turned out to be less than 20 minutes away so I drove back down to the dyke on Boundary Bay and waited for the Moon to appear. There were some wispy clouds near the eastern horizon so my hopes weren’t particularly high.

However, that didn’t stop me trying to get a clear line of sight to where I suspected the Moon would appear. A mature cottonwood on the golf course, bare of all leaves, made for a convenient point of interest, and (if necessary) an object on which to focus. I watched the light turn orange and pink on my favourite mountains – Golden Ears and the Cheam Range – before fading completely. A pair of bald eagles chased each other into the top branches of another cottonwood.

And yet, within ten minutes of rising, I caught a glimpse of something through the clouds that I knew was our nearest celestial neighbour. At first a faint semi-circular outline that gradually brightened as the sky simultaneously grew darker, eventually freeing itself from the clouds to begin its day, interrupted briefly by the passage of the Earth’s shadow across its disc.

I snapped a few photos while the sky was still pink before packing up and heading back home. And I’m really glad of that cottonwood tree for something to anchor the scene.