Like A Teapot

I visited a part of Vancouver's Burrard Inlet yesterday. Got a fantastic story to tell. I was so excited when it happened that I nearly turned myself inside out (got to love that expression). But I cannot tell it now because I am too tired and have not edited the photos that provide the setting to the story. I have, however, uploaded a new photo album of seasides and animals. It will be continuously updated.

Vancouver's Chinatown Summer Night Market is ongoing. It is a yearly commercial and cultural event, held to attract local residents and international tourists alike. It was originally conceived as an initiative to revive Chinatown. This evening was the second time I paid it a visit in the span of almost a decade. Like many, I had some apprehension over transportation. I had a hard time choosing between public transit and driving.

There is some distance between Chinatown and the nearest sky train (as opposed to subway, the train runs not only above ground but also up in the sky most of the time) station and I was not sure about walking the distance at night on my way home. China Town is also notorious for lacking parking space. In the end I drove all the way there just to save the headache of having to worry about return.

Since it was Sunday late afternoon, the traffic was not too bad. After a rather smooth local driving I got on a relatively new highway that runs along Vancouver's scenic Burrard Inlet. I had tried this highway once long time ago and forgot how wonderfully exhilarating it was to be driving on it. Most of the Metro Vancouver drivers use the mainstream Highway 1 to travel around BC's lower mainland and I was also accustomed to using that route. But where I am living now, it is less tortuous to use the (partially) scenic route and I need not compete with annoying big trucks. The disadvantage of using this route, however, is that the highway ends a bit early and there are many sets of traffic lights to deal with on one long stretchy street. The first time I used it I was so frustrated that I used Highway 1 on my way back.

Today, that long street was relatively empty, and I arrived at Chinatown in a peaceful mood. I also found a free parking spot after making a few turns. I only needed to walk two blocks to get to the night market. But I also realized that I had arrived at an awkward time, with all the permanent shops already closed and the night market stands just starting to make sales. Had I got there half an hour later, parking would have been a serious problem.

With that big problem (in my mind anyway) solved, my mood got even better. I had come to Chinatown with a mission - to take some pictures and find some cool stuff for a dear friend and his children.

(to be continued...)

Last Saturday I visited Minnekhada Lake up in the mountains in northeast Greater Vancouver. It is in Minnekhada Regional park, which features a lake, a trail system and an old lodge. I walked part of the trail from the north gate that leads to the southern part of the lake that is called Southern Marsh. Entering the trail from the parking lot is entering the mountains. It was early evening when I arrived. Only four cars were present on the parking lot, including mine, which was surprising considering it was Saturday.

A "Bear Aware" sign was the first thing that greeted my eyes. I became instantly worried about the small bottle of coca cola in my backpack. Normally I don't buy or drink soda at all; I got a six-pack one evening when I was very thirsty and needed something cold to drink. And when I left home I had no idea where I was going to hike, it could be an open area or a secluded zone. My first thought was to leave the soda under the car seat but changed my mind almost immediately. I feared that a bear smelling it would break into the car. I had seen on TV how it is easily done. So I took it with me. I also thought of leaving it in the bushes near the entrance, but decided to carry it along in case I got thirsty.

 The first fifty meters of walk was pretty scary and I almost turned around. Suddenly the sun was gone, blocked by the surrounding mountains. I looked at the vegetation on each side of the trail and did not see any berries. So I was less concerned with bears than with perverts. But then again with no public transportation to the area I figured that chances of coming across a pervert are slim.

Before I needed to drink, I needed to pee. It was the tea I drank earlier. I thought I had gotten it out. But no sweat, in the last three months I had become a pro at answering nature's call in open air. It took me three solid practices to achieve that.

The first three times I was pretty nervous. Not only was I a newbie, but the topography presented much difficulty. I was in truly open air, on river banks with the only help of tall grass. The fourth time I was by a mountain trail next to a lake. There was better coverage and I found some goody by being close to the ground. This was in Buntzen Lake, a provincial park which I visited the previous Saturday (its album is up; a post will follow). It was there that I became a pro. This time, too, the topography helped. When I got up and started to walk again, lo and behold, I found a super cool stick by roadside, just the right size for defense. I was already wearing a powerful pealess whistle, the kind used by NATO. But in such an isolated area, it was almost useless. With the super stick in hand, my spirit soared; in no time I got out of the woods and was face to face with what I had come for: the lake.

I was pleased that I had pressed ahead earlier. The open space is filled with light, the remaining daylight. The lake itself is a bit disappointing. Nothing spectacular. Too small. However, it is truly a well managed wildlife habitat, with all sorts of animals living in the marshes, making wonderful sounds. You could hear movements and caught glimpses of large aquatic animals, such as beavers. The birds were also singing beautiful songs. I had never heard such pleasant orchestra of nature. It was totally different from the crazy frogs and geese combination notes on Pitt River and Fraser River. Such is the advantage of visiting the park in early evening, the couple I met half an hour later told me.

More photos here.

I went to a beautiful area called Blue Heron Loop yesterday. It is in Pitt Meadows, a suburban town of Greater Vancouver. It is called a loop because early European immigrants who arrived through Pitt River and settled down at Pitt Meadows, which they quickly recognized as an ideal farming area, built a dike surrounding a long and winding river that lasts 14 km. It is called Blue Heron Loop because a bird name heron lives on the river water. The dike is ideal for walking and biking, especially for dating couples. It is part of the great Trans Canada Trail.

I did catch a glimpse of a Heron, which is a huge bird with more than half the grace of a swan when resting in water, but only near the end of my walk, about two hundred meters back to the parking lot. When I first started the walk, at the exact same spot, I heard a tremendous splashing sound at water edge but could not figure out what it was. I looked but saw nothing. I was so taken by the landscapes that I did not even associate the sound with a heron.

Last month, my opera friend DerWandersmann (what a name!) jokingly complained that the photos in my Bike Trail album hardly showed a biker (he missed a tiny figure which he took as a walker). Hehe. I had realized that. The thing is, at the time I showed up, the trail was quite empty. When I occasionally came across another human being, it was either a runner or a hiker. But, I have managed to go back there and photograph some bikers. This time it was late afternoon and the trail was busier than usual. I have added the new photos to the same album.