November

The Moon and Jupiter November 28 2012 Source

 
"November is the worst month", my mother-in-law, who lived on this Wet Coast for many years, used to say.

I used to find that quite astonishing as for me, living as I was in eastern Ontario, January was the worst month. So much so that my life's ambition at the time was to spend the entire month of January in the house.

Now I think I know what she means.  There was a full moon out there somewhere last night but I could only catch a glimpse of it as the night clouds raced across the sky to cover it up. Tonight, no chance of a moon, I can hear the rain beating down on the skylights. It's November and rain month here on the Best Coast. Hey, if you want to live in a temperate rainforest...

Last November, our first winter here was quite different. I remember a lot of workmen hanging around doing lots of exterior work - stone brick patios, fences, gates, the side arbor (summer greenhouse) at this time - with no interruption for rain right up till Christmas. Not so this year. We're back to more usual November weather. Rainy and windy a lot of a time, which makes the afternoon breaks, blue sky and sun, even if just for a few hours such a treat. The sun is so low on the horizon this time of year that even mid day on days when it shines, it only hits part of the back garden - and then only for a short time before it dips behind the tall trees of the Forest, fading away to a 4:00 sunset. The sun shines here at a mid-day 16 degree angle by Winter Solstice I'm told, a few weeks away.

The GreenHouse is leaking like a sieve.


But it's not all wind and rain. November Scenes:

On a long raft, just off the dock at Fanny Bay, about 40 sea lions were snoozing in the brilliant early November sun. What a sight! And sound as well. Ignored by most of their dozy compadres, a few buddies were awake and barking.

On another day, my neighbor Dee and I were driving along the coast road to an art show, when I noticed some kind of commotion just off from Qualicum Beach. We pulled over to take a closer look. Lots of shore birds out there, but something else... A tail, a leap, a dive - it was a group of dolphins, close offshore. Unlike the seals that surface as they feed on their way to somewhere else, these guys were all staying in one place waterprancing. We were laughing with pure delight. I had no camera then, but sometimes that's a good thing - to just look, without trying to capture the shot.

The beaches are always a source of amazement, always something unexpected. Another day we came upon this small public access beach in a neighborhood not far away. Obviously a prized outjut (look it up and let me know if it's a word) of land into the winds of the Strait of Georgia.  Half a dozen neon windsurfers dancing on gray.

Meanwhile...

When I landed on this coast on July 4th, 2011, I declared that I would not set foot in an airplane or in an airport for a year. At least. I wanted a break from it all, after our 4 years of constant exploring. I wanted to see what being grounded felt like. Well 16 months later, the possibility of travel now felt right. Where to go? A few interesting suggestions on the short list, from 3 different continents, but we're going back to Asia in January, just for a visit this time. To Burma.

High Drama in the Garden

I was in The Bunkie studio painting when I heard an enormous commotion in the garden. Birds were squawking, Howard was shouting and I could tell at a glance it was a Dennis-related tragedy that had been waiting to happen. I ran over to the coral bark maple where two large, very vocal robins were dive-bombing Dennis who was sitting beside another large bird lying on his side under the tree. As I grabbed Dennis who was examining at the bird with great curiosity and was about to swat at him to see what would happen next, I could see the bird's little beak moving as he chirped out his last.

From inside the house, where I deposited Dennis, I then saw quite an extraordinary sight. Dozens of birds were congregating on the branches of the tree just over the back fence. All different species. The Robins were still very upset and vocal as they perched on the lowest branches they could while still being beyond reach. The sound was amazing as well - sounds of upset coming from all the bird witnesses.

I recognized the attacked bird. The previous day I'd been watching the front garden where the Robin couple, who have been hanging around for some weeks now, had been hopping and pecking their way around the newly dug final bed of the new landscape. Mr. Bird, our now victim, a large thrush of some kind, had made a play for some of the action and had been dispatched in no uncertain terms by the male Robin. "Get lost, this is my territory".

Now he lay dead under the Japanese maple.

The birds now were behaving like onlookers at some big accident (which it was) and I watched them for a awhile before returning to The Bunkie. We'd dispose of the bird later. However, after 10 minutes or so I looked out the window at the dead bird under the tree to see that he was gone. Walking outside I checked under and around the tree. There were several big gray feathers on the ground but no sign of the bird. He was alive after all and had crawled away somewhere. I was thrilled to see him hopping around the garden, but that was tempered with some sadness as he had a very obviously damaged wing. He couldn't fly, but as the hours passed he seemed to be getting stronger. He started hopping around the garden, munching on bugs, pretty lively despite his injury. I watched him throughout the rest of the day. Later in the early evening, patrolling the perimeter, I found Big Gray Cat who lives down the street in our side garden and shooed him away in short order. I already know that Big Gray Cat is a hunter, as I've seen him on more than one occasion trotting down the center of our road with a dead mouse in his mouth. Between that and all the eagles, hawks and other wildlife in our neighborhood beside The Forest, I had almost no hope that Mr. Bird would survive the night.

Mr. Bird's damaged right wing

But he did, and the next day I could see him getting stronger and more active. All day long  this little brown bird, living in our garden, had taken over completely.  Dennis, firmly in the doghouse, watched from behind the patio French Doors. When he would catch sight of Mr. Bird outside hopping openly around the garden, Dennis' tail would wag, he'd stare intensely and mini-meows would erupt from that little mouth. "Sorry Dennis", I'd say, "Mr. Bird now owns this garden and you're inside until he leaves, for however long that may be."

Dennis in the "doghouse".  Stuck inside, looking out.

Another night passes and I get up in the morning and stand at the large patio door window. There he is! He's survived another night. I start to admire his strength and good luck.

The evening of the third night, I find Big Gray Cat trespassing in our garden, on his hind legs sniffing around the composter. I haven't seen Mr. Bird since the rainstorm this afternoon.

Scumbags

Sea Gulls Feasting

I was driving home from Parksville the other day and as I passed by French Creek I happened to glance over to see an extraordinary sight. Twelve million sea birds on the small beach behind the harbor. I pulled in to take a closer look.  As I drove in to the parking lot and looked the other way I saw something even more amazing. Right in the middle of the marina, where the fishing boats unload and the Lasqueti Island passenger ferry docks was a congregation of huge sea lions, about 8-10 of them. A few were swimming around but most were staying put in their group, rafting. I hurried home to collect spouse and camera and went back for a closer look.

Sea Lions in the harbor at French Creek

It is Pacific herring spawning season on the coast, aka lunch. Up and down the coast you will find these huge groups of sea birds and mammals, along with eagles and herons, feasting on the fish and roe. Between the chattering of the gulls and the barking of the sea lions the place was a mad house. I had only seen a sea lion in the wild once before, from a whale watching boat in Tofino. This was a HUGE thrill.

As I walked around the marina, watching them from different angles I noticed a sailboat motoring into the marina. I soon became aware that they (there were two guys on board) were a) traveling faster than they should be in the marina, and b) they were heading straight towards the group of sea lions in the water. Unlike a couple of other boats who had earlier left the marina traveling super slow and keeping well clear of these mammals, to my horror these guys kept on going, not reducing speed, deliberately targeting these huge creatures. At the very last minute the sea lions screamed and scrambled out of the way. They would have been hit, no doubt about it, and I wasn't even sure they had all made it to safety.  The two guys on the boat laughed uproariously, the ugly sound carrying through the marina and then they turned their boat around and headed to their dock.

Shame on them.

Bastards

What a Difference a Day Makes

Yes I know that I declared that spring had arrived earlier this month, but this time I really mean it.

Yesterday morning I got up early.  When I opened the door to the back garden. I noticed immediately the sounds coming from the trees in back of our house. Birds. Lots of them, with all kinds of whistles and chirps and cries and odd little noises. Sometime between yesterday and the day before, the birds have arrived and are staking territory and seeking mates. Later in the day I went for a long walk around the 'hood with camera, looking at paint colors on houses (still planning the exterior paint job this spring) as well as front yard landscaping ideas, and ended up looking more at robins and all kinds of other birds with names I don't know.

All this week the weather has been changing every half hour it seems. Clouds, sun, rain, snow, partly sunny, partly cloudy, rain showers, sun showers, frost, overcast, bright overcast - we must have as many words for winter weather in Qualicum Beach as the Inuit have for "snow". But today, even as the morning was cloudy and drizzling (another descriptive), after noon the sun came out and stayed out. On my way home from my walk I stood in the road and chatted with neighbors I hadn't spoken to since December; we've finally hatched ourselves from our houses. I ended the day in the backyard sitting in the sunshine reading my book.

The signs are all there. Spring.

And spring cleaning. I feel an urge to sweep the floor. Need to recline until the urge goes away.

Bonus Day

 Leap year day yesterday. An extra day of winter. Although for those of us in the northern hemisphere, wouldn't we all rather have the extra day in July?

Truth is, I've been enjoying this winter in my new home. Back in the fall everyone was talking about the predictions for this winter to be a weather misery here on the west coast. Hasn't happened. We had a week of snow in January and that was it. I've also been waiting for all this gloom and rain people always mention when talking about Pacific Northwest winters. Well, first of all, if you want to live in a temperate rain forest, guess what, you need rain. And second, it's not at all bad and even when there is a rainy day, it rarely lasts the whole day, there is lots of clear sky.

Dennis helping. He has since been banned from the GreenHouse.

I've been paying a lot of attention to outside temperatures and daily weather patterns as I play in the GreenHouse. Every morning I take my coffee outside to check the min-max thermometers both outside and in the GreenHouse, recording everything. Keeping the temperature in there to my target range has not been easy and there is a lot of trial and error. I'm on my second heater, the first one lasted six weeks before its thermostat broke. Most mornings I linger in there, sometimes for an hour or two, checking on the plants, repotting, planting seeds, picking off aphids, watering, taking cuttings of fuchsia new growth, moving things around, adjusting lights, making notes, listening to tunes and, I will admit it, talking to the plants. It may be chilly outside, but inside that wonderful place I am warm and extremely happy.

Many afternoons have found me in The Bunkie studio "working" (playing) on the miniature theater. This winter I have been creating the actors and the Carnevale costumes. The gas fireplace heats the room and the space is cozy and inspiring. As I clip and glue and scratch my head trying to figure out how to do things, I listen to music or half watch concert DVD's or CSI reruns. Another week and I'll be finished this part of the project and will move on to something else, perhaps the woodworking of the theater stage itself. Eventually. Who knows when and how inspiration will strike again. This theater project has been in the dreaming stage since I commissioned the stage backdrop in Chiang Mai, Thailand, a couple of years ago. It feels good to have come to the time of actually putting it together. Here's a Sneak Preview - 4 of the 6 actors in front of Dusit's painting of the Rialto Bridge in Venice.

4 of the Carnevale actors - about 5-6 inches tall

Since I figured out how to dress properly (Who's the Doofus...) I have been loving the walks or hikes in the forests this winter. (What's the difference between a walk or a hike? Answer: One hour.) With the deciduous shrubs and trees bare, my focus is on the shapes of the forest now that easier to see the trees and I love to look all the greens (the colors man, the colors) of the mosses and ferns and evergreen leafed shrubs - and of course those huge cedars and firs. The cool air is refreshing and there are no people.

Speaking of which, I'm much more into flora and fauna these days than human beings. It's a whole new world, paying attention to things I never saw before. One day walking through "our" forest at the end of the road, we heard a very loud banging noise - a new sound, that turned out to be a red top woodpecker and two of his buddies. I'd seen evidence of them before - very distinctive rectangular holes in tree trunks - but to see one was new for me.

Pileated Woodpecker

Another January visitor to the backyard, a group of Varied Thrush stopping by to pick up some berries on the tree just over the fence:

Varied Thrush

It's March now and whatever the worst was, it's on it's way out. I've spent quite a lot of time in the Benjamin Moore store pouring over paint chips, trying to decide on colors for the outside of the house which needs repainting. I'm also looking at fabric swatches for the "redecoration" of the new boat. I rediscovered the Public Library which turns out to be a pretty lively place all things considered (could it have something to do with the fact that QBBC has the oldest population in Canada?) and spend hours at home stretched out on the couch in front of the fireplace reading mystery novels.

Hellebores

Road trips. We continue to explore. We've made a daring raid on Salt Spring Island to buy hellebores for the garden, a plant I was unaware of as they won't survive the cold winters of the East, arriving at Fraser's Nursery just in time for it to start pouring. We've hiked up the mountain trails behind Nanaimo in search of an elusive waterfall, and followed the signs along the dirt road to the Horne Lake Caves where the only person we saw was a maintenance worker (I did NOT go into caves). We hiked into a woods near the estuary of the Englishman River where the rushing water of centuries, millenium, eons, whatever, who knows how long, has carved big circular basins out of the granite. The only other people there on the huge rocks near the suspension bridge that day were a couple of guys along with a mother and baby smoking a joint. The guys that is, not the mother and baby. Everywhere we go we find amazing places and the air is so fresh it makes me yawn.

View of the Coast Mountains on the mainland from our waterfall mountain hike behind Nanaimo

Walks on the beach have been less frequent for no particular reason but one day in February the fog was so thick outside I could barely see the houses across our own street, so I grabbed my camera and headed for the beach. You couldn't see much beyond the shore birds close by the beach but the smell of the air and sea was amazing and the sight of the rest of the world vanished was magical.

Qualicum Beach February Fog Day 2012

Then today, I went for a long walk on the beach all the way around the bay where I came across this sight of these two hardy souls on the water. The days are getting most noticeably longer, there are buds on the trees, spring bulbs and early flowering shrubs are out. March 1st - I'm going to call it spring.

Qualicum Beach March 1, 2012

Couch to 5K

Last spring, as we were getting ready to leave Manila and move here, I started to think about what I was going to do to get/stay fit. I had quite a routine going for myself - private pilates lessons twice a week, cardio at the gym at least 5 times a week, free weights and eating clean most of the time. The gym was an elevator ride away in the basement of my condo so that was a no-brainer, and Brenda was an amazing pilates teacher. All was fine and I felt great. What was I going to do when I moved?

A friend of mine in Manila who was from Vancouver just happened to know Qualicum Beach very well. In fact, she and her family come here every June to participate in the Qualicum Beach Triathalon.  She told me that it was a fun, low key type of event - swim 400 meters in the pool no less, bike 18K and run 5K. Hmmm. Maybe this was an answer. Training for something like this would certainly keep me fit.

There were just a few problems with this bright idea. I didn't run, I'd never owned a bike, and on the very rare occasions I did swim, it was only a gentle breast stroke. Wouldn't want to put my face in the water and ruin my makeup now, would I? Oh well, details, details. Not going to let that deter me. Back in Manila, I started cranking up the treadmill to start running intervals. How hard could this be? When I got to Qualicum Beach I figured I'd buy a bike and even sign up for a stroke clinic in the pool, since the last time I had a swimming lesson I was probably about 8 years old.

Well here's the update. I did buy a bike - and rode it about 3 times. It wasn't exactly like "riding a bicycle" and it didn't come easy for me. What the hell are you supposed to do with all those gears? I managed to stay upright and moving forward but that was about it. More practice needed.

As for the swimming, well I know where the pool is in town but that's about it. The thought of actually going in it makes me cringe. For one thing it's too wet. For another all kinds of traumatic memories are coming back to me from my childhood, including a particularly vivid one of a little me sitting shivering poolside at swimming lessons, with those horrid little white tiles and the echo chamber sounds of that huge indoor pool. There was also the incident when I dove into the pool and chipped my front tooth on the bottom, scarring me for life. So let's just say that GETTING TO the pool is still a work in progress.

That leaves the running.

I have never run outside before. The only running I've ever done was on the treadmill in the few months leading up to our departure from Manila. However, undeterred, I went shopping (as in, when the going gets tough...) as I need the appropriate running gear, no? It turns out that running outside is becoming an unexpected pleasure where I live. A 5 minute power-walk away and I'm on trails and roads running through acreage properties where llamas, horses, Shetland ponies and market gardens are raised. Sometimes the llamas, there are 5 in the field I regularly run past, are lined up against the fence looking at me with very strange expressions on their faces. "What on earth is SHE doing?" The ponies in the field across from the llamas are also intriguing - can I call them cute?. The woman who owns them has a dog that is as big as they are. The wild also is everywhere to see - birds and ducks and deer. The air is fresh, the trees are tall and if I turn one way on a clear day I see the magnificent Mt. Arrowsmith of the Vancouver Island range. Run (or more likely for me, walk) up to the top of the rise in the other direction and the mainland coast mountains come into view across the sea.

Mt. Arrowsmith - Vancouver Island

With views like this, the running is almost enjoyable. Almost. One foot in front of the other. Still doing the walk/run thing, but the run intervals are getting more frequent and longer AND, by the end of the time I'm surprised to realize that I'm feeling great. Love it ... when it's over. All is well.

And while I did say I'd finish the Qualicum Beach Triathlon I never did say in what YEAR I'd do it.

Changing Seasons & Some Kind of Segue

Last weekend was Thanksgiving and here in coastal British Columbia the leaves have just started to color within the last week or so. It's been quite a few years since I have seen the seasons change like this and it's just one more layer upon the layers of natural eye candy all around us. I'm out walking every day around my house - in the forest, on the beach, along the trails. The fresh air is amazing, as are the smells of forest and ocean. They say, that breathing forest air is good for you - it reduces stress, blood pressure, blood sugar - something about the chemicals given off with the breathing of the trees that affects human beings. If we want to drive to walk, there are provincial parks, riverside trails, fish hatchery land, mountain trails, rainforest walks, public access to beaches all up the coast. Every time you turn around there is another huge park. The entire Vancouver Island seems to be just one big park, with little pockets of people here and there.

As it turns out, I'm not wrong in that observation. More than 14% of the land in British Columbia is protected in nearly a thousand parks. Some are for the hardcore hikers, campers, climbers and such but what I really like about the park system is how many are so accessible to everyone and so well maintained. Lots and lots of relatively easy trails so everyone, young and old, (and me) can experience in some way, this temperate rainforest here on the coast - elsewhere in BC there are mountains and deserts and everything in between). As for the little pockets of people in a huge geography that's true too. There's only 4 1/2 million people living in the entire province, a quarter of the number of people who lived in Manila, my home for the past 4 years. Surreal. The scale of things is so completely different from southeast Asia.

Watch out for this, my friends, for therein lies the rub. Having (enjoying) no people and huge land and resources is the complete opposite of what our friends on the other side of the Pacific have, which is NO land accompanied by large and growing populations. As their middle class explodes, China needs more and more and more resources to fuel the beast.

Already sucking up their southeast Asian neighbor's resources, it is only natural that they would cast an eye at us. And as it turns out, many on this side of the pond have no problem bellying up to the trough.

They want to build an oil tanker port on the northwest coast of British Columbia and run a pipeline through the mountains to the oil fields of Alberta.

The Enbridge corporation, the oils sands players, the politicians, the bankers and the Chinese who are quite literally invested, want to build this pipeline so that oil tankers will navigate their way up the narrow fiords and channels in these pristine and sensitive areas to slurp up the oil through the pipenipple, then turn around and go back through these channels, up the Hecate Strait with all its weather extremes and history, eventually to the ocean and onwards to China, to regurgitate into their portside pipes. Turn around go back again. 14 huge oil tankers a day, these people are proposing to run.

This through an area where fishing boats have been the major boat traffic since all time. To the north was where the sinking of the huge oil tanker Exxon Valdez happened. In the very same waters where they want to run these new oil tankers, the BC Ferry, Queen of the North, sank in the middle of a cold night in March, 2006, when it struck land with 101 people aboard. 99 of them were rescued by the people living in the nearby Gitga'at community of Hartley Bay who went out in any boat they could get their hands on, but 2 people, a man and a woman, are, as they say, unaccounted for and presumably rest 1400 feet below with the vessel.

Proposed oil tanker port between Queen Charlottes (Haida Gwaii) and northern BC.

Source National Geographic

I first heard of the proposal to build the oil tanker port and the pipeline half a dozen years ago when I visited Haida Gwaii, or the Queen Charlotte Islands as it was known then. (The name was officially changed recently to reflect the people, the Haida, who were the original inhabitants pre-white guy. These islands way up on the very north west coast of British Columbia and just south of Alaska is the home of the Haida people. The Haida are, of course, hugely concerned about this project. They have lived there for 8000 years, give or take, and they, more than anyone, know the Hecate Strait. There is no fucking way they want those oil tankers going around their islands day in day out, year after year. In that geography, some say, disaster is only a matter of time.

The thing that gives me hope about all this is that the Haida and other aboriginal tribes, as well as many other West Coasters, know a thing or two about protest and about stopping industry in its tracks. Their early history stopping Queen Charlotte clear cutting and protecting Meares Island in Tofino (not only stopping industry but enabling beautiful, pristine areas to be protected for all time) and other David and Goliath scenarios has taught a lot of people a lot of things about being effective. More drama ahead.

Check out the article in August 2011 National Geographic, Pipeline Through Paradise, Great website, it has an article explaining the whole issue, plus a fantastic article about the Spirit Bears whose home this area also is, as well as lots of pictures of what this land looks like, this land and sea that they want to change so dramatically. There is also a link to an article about the Exxon Valdez oil spill when 11 million gallons of crude spilled into Prince William Sound in Alaska. That huge environmental disaster has impacts on the life on that land to this day.

Meanwhile, the Queen of the North, resting on the bottom of a channel in the area in question, leaks diesel.

By the way, a little name dropping if I may. I was in the local bike store in town to pick up my new bike. A guy was talking to the owner about custom designing a new bike. Turns out this guy is a photographer for National Geographic and has just moved to our area. I'm impressed, those photographers are the best of the best (to say nothing of covered bridges).  Now I'm looking at these AMAZING shots of the Spirit Bear in the Great Bear Rain Forest article in the August issue and look at that, there's the new neighbor's work, Paul Nicklen. Click on his website, his photos are beyond amazing.

National Geographic - Paul Nicklen

Grounded

One of the things I'm finding I really like about this house is that it is all on one level. A ranch house. Not only that, there is no basement (I loathe basements), so when I am in the house, walking around on the top layer of slate tile or wood flooring, there is nothing separating me from the earth, other than a concrete slab. There are two exits to the back garden and the bunkie, one through the mud room that leads in to the kitchen and the other through the patio door off the dining area. I can step directly to the outdoor patio and garden from these doors, less than a step down. I feel the earth under my feet always.

Now coming (via Asia) from Ontario, this is a real novelty. Where I came from, with its winters of mega-feet of snow and snow melt, there were always steps and elevations and separations from the ground, from the earth. And I noticed it. In our last house, only a few steps down to the garden, I remember daydreaming about a house where you step in or out, with no barrier. I've dreamed myself into this house.

At the bottom of the road, 2 houses away, is the 55 acre Heritage Forest. It really is an amazing thing to walk a few hundred whatevers down the road to find this...

The Heritage Forest at the end of our road

Entrance to the Forest Path - Very tidy and well maintained, as is everything in this town. Garbage bins, little bags provided for dog poop and signs about bears...

Stepping through the entrance-way, into the Forest

Inside this Forest are Giant Douglas Firs estimated to be about 700-800 years old, 2.3 m/7.4 ft  in diameter and 57 m/187 ft high

You can tell the Douglas Fir for sure from its pinecones, where if you look closely, you can see the hindquarters and tail of a mouse from a long ago tale, hiding within it.

Around 1870 part of The Forest was logged. Loggers stood on spring boards set in notches in the trees, to get above the butt swell for easier cross-cut sawing by hand.

Today you can see many huge stumps in the forest where those long ago lumbermen balanced themselves to cut the giant down.

You can see the history of The Forest if you look closely. Lots of signs of long ago and perhaps not so long ago forest fires.

Lots and lots of fallen trees, that provide life for new growth to build a new layer of the forest floor

Many shallow root trees are susceptible to high wind. I'm thinking you should heed this sign at the entrance and hightail it out of there in stormy weather.

In the evening, walking through The Forest, I am struck by its silence. In the morning walks, I can hear the birds.

Looking down, 6 inch slugs munch away.

Here's the human part of the story of the Heritage Forest of Qualicum Beach, earlier known as the Brown Property.

In 1996, a group of interested people in the town got together to find ways to keep this 55 acre property from being sold to developers. At first the idea was to have the Town purchase the property but when a referendum went to the wider taxpaying townspeople asking them whether they would vote for an increased tax to allow for its purchase, they voted NO. So, this group of Forest Friends, undaunted, set up a Foundation to raise funds which they did through a combination of community events, donations and sponsorship,  and to manage it, hoping to provide for the enjoyment of this wonderful forest for townspeople and visitors alike.

And they did it. They raised the money, bought it, and set it up to preserve it, for all to enjoy. Forever, how ever long that lasts.

I like this story. And I really like that it is just about in my backyard.