This post contains photos from our trip along Canada's Great Lakes, starting near Thunder Bay and ending at a vista in Neys Provincial Park (somewhere between Marathon and Terrace Bay).
Thursday, October 30, 2008
The Way Home - Along The Great Lakes (aka. "My Dad The Hero")
At this point, I was six weeks in to my eight week trip and was rather tired of driving. There was no doubt in my mind that I could get back safely on my own, but I was definitely happy to to take my dad up on an earlier of his to fly out to Ottawa and drive back with me. On long drives like this, one cannot underestimate how nice it is to have someone else beside you.
This post contains photos from our trip along Canada's Great Lakes, starting near Thunder Bay and ending at a vista in Neys Provincial Park (somewhere between Marathon and Terrace Bay).
This post contains photos from our trip along Canada's Great Lakes, starting near Thunder Bay and ending at a vista in Neys Provincial Park (somewhere between Marathon and Terrace Bay).
Friday, October 17, 2008
My time in Ottawa, a photo essay of sorts
From Quebec I continued on to Ontario, just in time for the beginning of the fall colors.
There was a lot of relaxati0n, long conversations, and good time with all of my family. Not many big stories or photos, but it was a wonderful time nonetheless.
My grandfather took me for an excellent tour of Gatineau Park with stops at the MacKenzie King Estate and Pink Lake (named for its algae-driven hue in some seasons).
On the way home, we stopped by a small park along the Ottawa River Parkway to visit and feed the ducks. When we pulled up, there were maybe 5-10 mallards waddling around along the path. Moments after the first handful of cracked-corn was thrown, at least 40 more mallards, seagulls, and canada geese exploded out of the nearby bushes to join the feeding frenzy.
And finally, one of the greatest joys of my visit, my new cousin (once-removed), Parker. I've been officially named "Uncle Jonathan"... I like it.
Parker is an awesome little guy. He's about two-weeks old in all of these photos and, when he's not sleeping, is already an active and aware little kid. I may be biased, but I think he's pretty darn cute.
*It's worth noting that this photo is one of the last taken of my Grandfather, Sydney Dove. He was so proud of his first great-grandchild, I'm glad to have captured this moment.
There was a lot of relaxati0n, long conversations, and good time with all of my family. Not many big stories or photos, but it was a wonderful time nonetheless.
My grandfather took me for an excellent tour of Gatineau Park with stops at the MacKenzie King Estate and Pink Lake (named for its algae-driven hue in some seasons).
On the way home, we stopped by a small park along the Ottawa River Parkway to visit and feed the ducks. When we pulled up, there were maybe 5-10 mallards waddling around along the path. Moments after the first handful of cracked-corn was thrown, at least 40 more mallards, seagulls, and canada geese exploded out of the nearby bushes to join the feeding frenzy.
And finally, one of the greatest joys of my visit, my new cousin (once-removed), Parker. I've been officially named "Uncle Jonathan"... I like it.
Parker is an awesome little guy. He's about two-weeks old in all of these photos and, when he's not sleeping, is already an active and aware little kid. I may be biased, but I think he's pretty darn cute.
*It's worth noting that this photo is one of the last taken of my Grandfather, Sydney Dove. He was so proud of his first great-grandchild, I'm glad to have captured this moment.
Day 39 - New Brunswick and Quebec
Left Hantsport and made my way back through New Brunswick and Quebec.
Made a point of staying in Fredericton just to see Christ Church Anglican Cathedral. I first heard about this church in a Art History course in my third year of college and immediately became a fan of its architecture. I could pass up an opportunity to see it in person and, hopefully, take some photos. Unfortunately, particularly heavy rain from the leftovers of Hurricane Ike made photography impractical (I'm not one to test the weather-sealing on my camera).
Just in case some of you are not familiar with the building in question, these google'd images will have to do for now:
After Fredericton, I pushed on through to Quebec City. After two or three hours on the road, I came to the conclusion that, for the sake of the safety of tourists and generally sane folk alike, no Quebec resident should ever be allowed behind the wheel. Thanks to a suggestion from my father, I made my way over to the secondary highways and found myself immersed in uniquely and surprisingly pastoral surroundings. Five minutes after pulling off the freeway, I found myself in the town of Saint-Denis.
It had been raining all day long and the misty fog had just started to lift. Coming down the road, I could see the outline of a massive stone church standing on a tall hill right in the middle of town. Through the thinning mist, I caught the familiar outline of a church. It was unremarkable from the ground to the roof's peak, but I found myself in awe at a gleeming white steeple. The tapered white-stone went up and up until it disappeared in to the slowly-lifting fog bank. In that first glance, I would have sworn that it kept on going until it melded with heaven itself.
I love small-town ecclesiastical architecture!
Made a point of staying in Fredericton just to see Christ Church Anglican Cathedral. I first heard about this church in a Art History course in my third year of college and immediately became a fan of its architecture. I could pass up an opportunity to see it in person and, hopefully, take some photos. Unfortunately, particularly heavy rain from the leftovers of Hurricane Ike made photography impractical (I'm not one to test the weather-sealing on my camera).
Just in case some of you are not familiar with the building in question, these google'd images will have to do for now:
After Fredericton, I pushed on through to Quebec City. After two or three hours on the road, I came to the conclusion that, for the sake of the safety of tourists and generally sane folk alike, no Quebec resident should ever be allowed behind the wheel. Thanks to a suggestion from my father, I made my way over to the secondary highways and found myself immersed in uniquely and surprisingly pastoral surroundings. Five minutes after pulling off the freeway, I found myself in the town of Saint-Denis.
It had been raining all day long and the misty fog had just started to lift. Coming down the road, I could see the outline of a massive stone church standing on a tall hill right in the middle of town. Through the thinning mist, I caught the familiar outline of a church. It was unremarkable from the ground to the roof's peak, but I found myself in awe at a gleeming white steeple. The tapered white-stone went up and up until it disappeared in to the slowly-lifting fog bank. In that first glance, I would have sworn that it kept on going until it melded with heaven itself.
I love small-town ecclesiastical architecture!
Day 37 (or so) - Hantsport
After my two-day jaunt around the Cabot Trail, I made my way over to the town of Hantsport (75km northeast of Halifax). I stayed there for two nights with Sue and Bob, Sue being my mom's loving and hospitable cousin (I think) and Bob being her witty and rebellious husband. Rebellious would not be a term one would usually apply to someone just beginning retirement, but it is the only word that comes to mind after many long discussions with Bob about his hard-fought victories (and on-going battles) against "The Man". This fellow has become an expert at taking corporations and governments to task over their mistreatment of the little guy, be it the lousy service from the local cable company for the clients of his tech-support company, or the shameful state of care for military veterans across the country. This man is an expert shit-disturber and I think that's awesome. As he pointed out on many occasions, there are too many people out there who need help but are being ignored by companies and agencies who realize that those individuals have no power to fight the unfair, arbitrary, and often crippling decisions that these organizations make. Someone's gotta stand up for them!
So ya, I came away feeling inspired to do a bit more in this world to help the down-trodden to get back on their feet.
Toured both the Shearwater and Halifax aviation museums while I was in the area. Received a guided tour through Shearwater's museum (I was the only visitor at the time) through Canada's naval aviation history by a fellow who had served on at least two of Canada's aircraft carriers (I never even new we had aircraft carriers!). There was a great selection of aircraft, but my favourite was definitely the Swordfish (same type that crippled the Bismarck). The Halifax air museum has a wider selection, but, due to construction and a smaller budget, it wasn't as nice to walk around. They went for quantity over quality, at least in terms of the museum experience.
No photos to share. My camera stayed apathetically bagged for those days.
So ya, I came away feeling inspired to do a bit more in this world to help the down-trodden to get back on their feet.
Toured both the Shearwater and Halifax aviation museums while I was in the area. Received a guided tour through Shearwater's museum (I was the only visitor at the time) through Canada's naval aviation history by a fellow who had served on at least two of Canada's aircraft carriers (I never even new we had aircraft carriers!). There was a great selection of aircraft, but my favourite was definitely the Swordfish (same type that crippled the Bismarck). The Halifax air museum has a wider selection, but, due to construction and a smaller budget, it wasn't as nice to walk around. They went for quantity over quality, at least in terms of the museum experience.
No photos to share. My camera stayed apathetically bagged for those days.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Day 35 - The Cabot Trail
Took two days to do Cape Breton's Cabot Trail, a loop through what has to be one of Canada's top natural wonders. For my Albertan friends, I would compare The Cape to the Rockies with the Atlantic ocean in place of the foothills. It's quite an adventure driving around the island, perched on narrow roads winding through switchbacks that seem like they'll never end; That is until that last switch brings you over the top of the mountain and leaves you looking 300m down a mind-bogglingly steep valley. I don't have any photos from the top... I was too busy screaming in terror. The guardrails did little to dissuade the utterance of certain words that mom would've slapped me for if she had been in the car with me.
Don't get me wrong though, it really was beautiful though. These are some of the shots from around the trail and near the end of the day along the Bras d'Or Lake near Baddeck, home of Alexander Graham Bell (most awesome inventor ever).
Don't get me wrong though, it really was beautiful though. These are some of the shots from around the trail and near the end of the day along the Bras d'Or Lake near Baddeck, home of Alexander Graham Bell (most awesome inventor ever).
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Musings
I don’t have many photos from the weekend or my first day here in Nova Scotia. There was no lack of interesting scenes and subjects, simply a lack of will on my part to pull the camera out. With Daniel here, I was both a tourist and a tour guide. As were walking around, it felt right to be snapping photos left, right, and centre to capture what we were seeing. It’s not the same when I’m on my own.
I love sharing experiences with people, and I’m so glad that my photography has opened up opportunities for people to live vicariously through my lens; But there are some things that just cannot be captured. As I stood on the balcony of my B&B in Cheticamp tonight, watching the last remnants of the sun skimming across the bottoms of the flowing and billowing clouds, I didn’t bother to get my camera out. My camera can’t capture colors of that intensity. Nor can it capture the cool wind blowing through the valley, carefully perfumed by the wood-burning stoves of the town, the various blooms in the fields of wild-flowers, the freshly cut grass on the neighbour’s acreage, and the salty ocean spray from the harbor just over the hill. Were I to take that photo, all you would see is a cheap facsimile of but one facet of an otherwise rich, dynamic, and beautiful scene.
When we’ve seen something beautiful, our understanding and appreciation of beauty is expanded. It’s a language that we become more fluent in as we experience those beautiful details of the world. Why was I so passionate about bringing friends along with me on this trip? Because I would then have others who would understand the PEI/maritimes dialect of beauty! I’ll come back and talk about what I experienced, and you’ll try to understand it in the terms of your own experiences, and the story will lose something along the way. The beauty of the island is not better than the caribbean, the rocky mountains, south america, europe, or anywhere else that my friends of been; It’s simply different. Just as I struggle to comprehend the beauty of the places that they have all been to, I know that they will struggle to fully comprehend the beauty of what I’ve seen. I wanted to bring you with me so that we could have that shared language, that common knowledge of a beauty that we can remember, remark upon, and discuss with full confidence that we're actually talking about the same thing.
I honestly wish more people had been able to make the trip with me. I was glad to have Daniel along with me and I hope that he found the experience to be enjoyable and enriching. I’m glad to have another person fluent in the beauty of PEI. Who’s next?
(Details and photos from today's trip through the Cabot Trail will be posted in the next day or two. I'm tired and I'm going to bed.)
I love sharing experiences with people, and I’m so glad that my photography has opened up opportunities for people to live vicariously through my lens; But there are some things that just cannot be captured. As I stood on the balcony of my B&B in Cheticamp tonight, watching the last remnants of the sun skimming across the bottoms of the flowing and billowing clouds, I didn’t bother to get my camera out. My camera can’t capture colors of that intensity. Nor can it capture the cool wind blowing through the valley, carefully perfumed by the wood-burning stoves of the town, the various blooms in the fields of wild-flowers, the freshly cut grass on the neighbour’s acreage, and the salty ocean spray from the harbor just over the hill. Were I to take that photo, all you would see is a cheap facsimile of but one facet of an otherwise rich, dynamic, and beautiful scene.
When we’ve seen something beautiful, our understanding and appreciation of beauty is expanded. It’s a language that we become more fluent in as we experience those beautiful details of the world. Why was I so passionate about bringing friends along with me on this trip? Because I would then have others who would understand the PEI/maritimes dialect of beauty! I’ll come back and talk about what I experienced, and you’ll try to understand it in the terms of your own experiences, and the story will lose something along the way. The beauty of the island is not better than the caribbean, the rocky mountains, south america, europe, or anywhere else that my friends of been; It’s simply different. Just as I struggle to comprehend the beauty of the places that they have all been to, I know that they will struggle to fully comprehend the beauty of what I’ve seen. I wanted to bring you with me so that we could have that shared language, that common knowledge of a beauty that we can remember, remark upon, and discuss with full confidence that we're actually talking about the same thing.
I honestly wish more people had been able to make the trip with me. I was glad to have Daniel along with me and I hope that he found the experience to be enjoyable and enriching. I’m glad to have another person fluent in the beauty of PEI. Who’s next?
(Details and photos from today's trip through the Cabot Trail will be posted in the next day or two. I'm tired and I'm going to bed.)
Day 34 - Leaving the island
If I told you that I cried, would I be less of a man?
Yes, yes I would, but one can’t run from the truth.
Confronted with the reality of leaving the island, making that final drive through the rolling hills and along the glorious coast, I actually shed a few tears. Not bawling, not crying out, but I totally teared up at sight of all of that beauty in my rear-view mirror.
On my last full day on the island, I went for a long drive to nowhere in particular up along the northeast coast. Finally found a heron that would stand still long enough for one photo (he then flew off); Spent a few minutes wandering the overgrown grounds of an abandoned church; Stopped at every harbor along the way to smell the sea air and watch the boats bobbing gently beside the pier; And, finally, I ended up on a little road that promised a harbor but didn’t lead anywhere... except for here:
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Picture a beautiful red-clay country road that gradually turns to sand as it brings you to a narrow gap between two sand-dunes framing the roaring ocean breaking on the seemingly endless beach. I parked my car, called my mom, and told her right out that she was lucky that I missed her so much. I had found my happy place, and the only thing that could possibly tear me away from it is the overwhelming desire to see my family and friends again soon.
That pretty much sums up my time on the island. I had gone out there to both vacation and job hunt. It became evident early on that job hunting just wasn’t going to happen. Even if I did actually make contact with the people that I wanted to, it would have been in vain. I honestly don’t think I could make the move away from my family and friends. If I ever marry, maybe it’ll be to a girl with a similar love for the island and we’ll make the move together. Maybe my friend will give in to my petitions and move his film studio out here, then I’ll have a job and a good starting base of friends. Or maybe my parents will give into the temptation and build their retirement home one a bluff overlooking a harbour. All I know is that I cannot, at this point in my life anyway, bring myself to be away from everyone I know and love. The island will have to remain a regular (yearly?) vacation destination.
Anyway, here are some photos from my last days on the island:
Yes, yes I would, but one can’t run from the truth.
Confronted with the reality of leaving the island, making that final drive through the rolling hills and along the glorious coast, I actually shed a few tears. Not bawling, not crying out, but I totally teared up at sight of all of that beauty in my rear-view mirror.
On my last full day on the island, I went for a long drive to nowhere in particular up along the northeast coast. Finally found a heron that would stand still long enough for one photo (he then flew off); Spent a few minutes wandering the overgrown grounds of an abandoned church; Stopped at every harbor along the way to smell the sea air and watch the boats bobbing gently beside the pier; And, finally, I ended up on a little road that promised a harbor but didn’t lead anywhere... except for here:
.jpg)
Picture a beautiful red-clay country road that gradually turns to sand as it brings you to a narrow gap between two sand-dunes framing the roaring ocean breaking on the seemingly endless beach. I parked my car, called my mom, and told her right out that she was lucky that I missed her so much. I had found my happy place, and the only thing that could possibly tear me away from it is the overwhelming desire to see my family and friends again soon.
That pretty much sums up my time on the island. I had gone out there to both vacation and job hunt. It became evident early on that job hunting just wasn’t going to happen. Even if I did actually make contact with the people that I wanted to, it would have been in vain. I honestly don’t think I could make the move away from my family and friends. If I ever marry, maybe it’ll be to a girl with a similar love for the island and we’ll make the move together. Maybe my friend will give in to my petitions and move his film studio out here, then I’ll have a job and a good starting base of friends. Or maybe my parents will give into the temptation and build their retirement home one a bluff overlooking a harbour. All I know is that I cannot, at this point in my life anyway, bring myself to be away from everyone I know and love. The island will have to remain a regular (yearly?) vacation destination.
Anyway, here are some photos from my last days on the island:
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