Essentially the Only One

Continuing what is turning into a rather magical tour of the westward northern US and southern Canadian states and provinces, we left our delightful Blue Mountain Motel in Pincher Creek, Alberta this morning and drove westward through Crowsnest Pass and beyond.

We ended up here, at the Bavarian Orchard Motel in Creston, British Columbia and I find it hard to believe that serendipidity could have led us to a more beautiful setting.

Creston is a small town set on a high valley, almost a plateau, surrounded on three sides by high mountains with a gap towards the south looking onto the Washington state. Our motel is well named except for the curious 'Bavarian' reference, for the vast garden in the back is indeed an orchard with cherries and apples ripening and some vines for grapes.We will stay here for a while.

We've stayed in Pincher Creek for a couple of days. We like this town and we like our motel, The Blue Mountain Motel. Very accommodating and friendly.

This gives us the chance to look around locally in a bit more depth, and today we went again to Waterton Lakes National Park.

A drive through the park took us to Red Rock Canyon, where we found this happy scene of people playing and bathing in the bright red rock creek, as this fisheye shot shows. It reminded me of Missouri's Johnson's Shut-Ins before that particular park was hit by a dam failure.

We decided to skip the creek, and walk down a trail that led deep into the valley. I recalled the trails we had taken in the Scottish Highlands last year, except we, on the trail path, were already at 1500 meters and the highest Scottish mountain, Ben Nevis, is only 1344 meters high!

Each I found myself lulled into a Highland mood, I would look up and see some vast rocky crag rising to the sky that was most un-Highlandish.

The air is wonderful here. Clear, light, and rich with the scent of pine trees.

The trail was easy, but we stopped frequently just to look at the view.It's not easy to do justice to the scale of these huge mountains, but this shot of my wife disappearing down the trail ahead of me perhaps gives some idea.

After a while, I began to get a feel for this landscape, cooler, drier and more remote than the Highlands. Less forgiving and friendly perhaps, largely because, unlike many of the Scottish hills, it rises out of a high plain and not the sea.




Beautiful and impressive, nonetheless.

An image that caught my eye as I was flipping through old photo archives this evening - this from northern Ontario, summer 2007.

Interesting for the different sets of terrain and flora - a rocky, lichen covered, foreground, tall pines to the right and far left, reeds to the left, marsh grass in the center. All mostly silhouetted by that glorious white sun.

One month ago to the day and almost to the hour, I was standing on these rocks photographing a very attractive sunset over Lake Superior. Very enjoyable it was too.

We were staying at the Poplar Grove Motel on Highway 17 that runs just behind the treeline that you see in the photograph. An old fashioned motel, currently for sale. It's nice to think of it again, and that's why this post is here!

The temperature here in St. Louis has just equaled the 1936 record for this day, 102° F. The stock market has creamed another 200 points off the Dow. Tomorrow is my birthday, and I will be 50.

All clutter. Instead, I find myself thinking of a time only just over a week ago, yet already assuming the detached distance that is the fate of all memories. At the Cedar Shores Motel in Jellicoe, Ontario, with no news (the television remained off over the 5 days of our stay), no internet, and just the trees, lake, gravel roads and rivers around our cabin on this charmingly ramshackle estate.

We were so far north that the sun did not set until about 9:30 at night, and light lingered in the twilight sky until almost midnight. This gave each evening a languor that altered my sense of time and eased out each day into a much more relaxed state. It was not possible to hurry in such a place, the best thing to do was to sit and watch the sun go down, or take a lengthy and leisurely drive in the forest, float in a canoe, or simply read a book. (In this case, the latest and last Harry Potter.)

Our cabin was small and simply furnished but had everything we wanted. To wake in the morning, make a cup of tea and a plate of bluebery pancakes, and then sit out on the wooden porch overlooking the lake and watch for loons - it is hard to think of a better way to spend time. In many ways, the stay reminded me of childhood memories at my grandfather's country house, but the setting, the wildness of the place set it apart. No bears or moose showed themselves to us, but we knew that the woods all around us were their home. Despite the highway - Ontario King's Highway 11 - close by us, there was a strong sense that this was a land that had not been conquered by man. Perhaps it was the almost complete absence of any sort of farming that aided this impression. It was like a nature reserve that had not yet needed to be reserved.
The air was filled with biting things - mosquitos, flies, strange insects that I had never seen before, and we were scratching bumps of varying size and soreness almost the whole time we were there, yet it really didn't bother me at all. Somehow, to offer a little blood to these creatures was a small price to pay for being allowed to briefly share their world. Not that I did not take pleasure in swatting a lazy mosquito sinking its proboscis into my wrist - it's just that when I missed them it really didn't seem to matter. With the sun sinking and the cool evening air stealing over me, I was immune to disturbance.

One of the most fun things you can do is plan a vacation. This year we are returning to one of my favorite places, Canada, and instead of Quebec and the east we are taking the central route around the top of Lake Superior this time.

One of the fortunate consequences of this particular trail is that we have the opportunity to take the train to Moosonee on the James Bay. This appeals to me. The arctic seas have always fascinated me, and a chance to be on the shoreline of the water system that embraces the Hudson Bay and beyond seems very romantic. It's a remote area, far removed from the industrialization of the United States, and that appeals to me as well.

We'll see - plans are not finalized yet. But it is fun to think about.

For the past few nights now, I have been lulling myself to sleep with Erik Satie's set of six Nocturnes. Very much in the idiom of the well-known movement from Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata they are, but with that extra otherworldliness that Satie demonstrates in his best compositions.

They reminded me of a scene from our vacation in 2005 in Quebec Province. We were staying in the highest hotel in Tadoussac, overlooking both the town and the St. Lawrence River just at the point where it widens into an estuary. During the day, it is possible to make out the far bank but it is a long way away.

At night, though, a bright moon came out to illuminate the water and the silver sheen seemed to draw the other bank much closer. That, and the clear and bright lights from the towns and villages across the water. I photographed it, but it only gives a pale impression of the beauty of that scene. Nevermind, it is better than nothing, and it was nice to look at it again tonight.

By the way, that is one reason why I like digital photography so much. It is so much easier to find and look at old photographs!