Amazing work by Donna Stevens that graphically illustrates what we all inherently know about TV… it sucks your soul out through your eyes!
Parents: beware the downside of “the easy option” for a bit of peace and quiet…
Amazing work by Donna Stevens that graphically illustrates what we all inherently know about TV… it sucks your soul out through your eyes!
Parents: beware the downside of “the easy option” for a bit of peace and quiet…
Heard about this on the radio this morning. As an employee of Canon, I thought it particularly interesting.
You know that annoying “red eye” you get from flash photography, where the blood vessels in the retina cause a red glow in the eyes of the people you’re photographing? Well… sometimes it’s not red. It can be yellow or white… and that’s usually not a good thing!
Turns out it can be an early diagnostic of several eye problems. Some very serious. Early detection is key to good outcomes from treatment. So – go take some photos of the ones you love!
Here’s a web page for more information: Home – Know The GlowKnow The Glow | Know The GLow.
To give you an idea of what to look out for they also have a gallery of examples.
Well that was a busy few days. A few more to come too.
As I mentioned a while back, I flew to the UK to visit some customers.
I headed North to help my mum celebrate her birthday (“The North remembers”) with a trip to the Lake District.
Then I spent a few happy hours walking the haunts of my childhood.
Next I flew to Cologne/Köln for a trade show.
Then back to the UK for a quick curry then back home to Vancouver.
Bugger the jet lag – Saturday was my birthday and we took a trip to a local formal gardens at Darts Hill. It’s rarely open to the public, and I took my 100mm macro for a jaunt in the spring showers.
Sunday saw a bit of gardening and a visit to the cinema with my son to watch the Mad Max relaunch (basically a 2hr car chase through the desert. Think “Dakar rally meets Wacky Races”).
Because the trade show spanned a statutory holiday in BC to celebrate Queen Victoria’s birthday I took Monday as a holiday in lieu. A day trip to Victoria on the Island seemed appropriate and my two youngest and I spent an interesting day in the provincial capital.
Today saw me back at work just to do a bit of paperwork, and tomorrow I’m off again. This time to Connecticut. A US state I’ve never before seen. I gather it’s quite a sight in autumn. As for spring, I’ll let you know…
Spring seems to have sprung.
At least in my neighbour’s front garden where his blossom tree has, well, blossomed.
And yes… it’s supposed to be largely out of focus! That’s art that is. A deliberately tight depth of field.
They say it’s about the journey, not the destination. Very philosophical and all, but it’s still a bugger when you set out on a hike and don’t get to where you’re aiming.
Sunday was a lovely day here in BC. Despite losing an hour’s sleep to daylight saving, breakfast was had, the dog was fed, watered and walked, and we were all ready for the offsky pretty well on schedule.
We’ve been reasonably good at getting a hike in most weekends, and this time it was up to Mrs E. to pick the route. We have several books of local hikes and scrambles, and she picked one pretty much at random from Dawn Hanna’s “Best Hikes and Walks of Southwestern British Columbia”.
Today’s adventure was to be in the environs of Grouse Mountain, a favourite haunt where many pleasant hours have been previously spent. Mosquito Creek Cascades promised to be a reasonably leisurely hike – 8km in total with most of the ascent in the last 1km before the turnaround.
Things didn’t start very well with me missing the turning for Burnaby along the highway, and therefore forcing us to go right through the middle of Vancouver. Davie Street offered its usual collection of interest, and we were at the Lion’s Gate bridge before too long. Here I got a little worried because it seemed the entire North Shore was under a low lying blanket of cloud. Thankfully this turned out to be a narrow band over the water itself, and we were soon through to the North side and glorious views of the mountains.
The car-park at Grouse was quite empty, but it didn’t stop some bloke in a Tesla taking my parking spot, despite me clearly indicating my intent. Times must be hard with the lack of snow, because there was actually some chap checking parking tickets on the assembled vehicles. I’d never seen them doing that before.
The recent good weather has made the various routes up the Grouse (including the still officially closed Grind) appealing once more, and some previous community spirited individual had thoughtfully inserted a stick into the self-locking gate so it couldn’t. Self lock, I mean. The gate’s a complete joke, of course. It’s nominally there to prevent people attempting the Grind when it’s dangerous to do so, like after dark, or when there’s snow on the rocky trail. The cynic in me would also point out that it would encourage more people to pay to ride the SkyRide and ski/board at the top. The total lack of snow there though makes the continued closure of the Grind laughable. More to the point, there are many more trails starting here than just the boring though popular Grouse Grind.
Anyway, we started our adventure as per the book, by heading East along the BP trail. This vaguely contours the lower reaches of Grouse with a gentle ascent as it heads further East. As we continued, we passed over two tributaries of MacKay Creek, the second of which looked almost man-made. In a way, I guess it was, since the clear cuts of the past had removed much of the soil stability, so when the heavy rains of 1996 came, the soil was swept away right down to the bedrock, leaving an ugly scar allegedly visible from Vancouver.
A little later we met a few people coming from the opposite direction, and one pair of ladies had a huge panting Bernese Mountain Dog. Despite the women taking a lower trail, the dog approached us on the higher rail, huffing and puffing. The owner apologised for this mountain (of a) dog crowding our path, and the dog quite definitely and distinctly gave me an ice-hockey style shoulder check as it passed!
Pretty soon we came to a gravel path and needed to check the GPS as there were paths converging from all sides. We followed the BP trail down a bit of an old path, past a very West Coast house with an orange steel roof, and down to the creek. There is a substantial bridge over now, but apparently its predecessor was swept away in the 1996 floods. There’s a couple of large green water towers and we headed up the actual climb towards the cascades. We opted for the Cascade Trail, which is slightly to the East of The Old Grouse Mountain Highway. This was a pleasant steady climb, and is joined from the left by the “highway”. Only a couple of hundred metres further, the well marked and wide trail suddenly disappeared. Literally. The hillside looked like it had suffered some major slides. The path to here was following an old iron pipeline, and here it was suspended in the air, as the supporting ground had been washed away.
An alternate path had been marked by some intrepid predecessor with pink surveyor’s tape, and we gamely angled down towards Mosquito Creek itself. After about 100m though, it was pure bushwacking. We still had more than half a kilometre to go, but no clear route to follow. We opted to stop and eat by the creek and call it a day. It was a peaceful little spot, and we soaked in the silence. Right up to the point when we heard a family and dog crashing through the brush on the west bank of the creek. The trail there is supposedly closed now, but I guess it was less closed than the supposedly open trail we’d chosen!
After a pleasant break, we tried to retrace our steps to the maintained path, and noticed that in this direction someone had carved markers into the various fallen logs to try and permanently mark the path. Back up on the main path, we opted to take The Old Grouse Mountain Highway back down to the water towers.
This was definitely the steeper route of the two, and there were a couple of huge trees fallen across the path to make life even more interesting. Industrial archaeologists would be interested in the old water pipe exposed in places on the trail. It was used up until storm damage in the 1980s damaged the intake.
After we’d crossed back over the bridge we opted to take the powerline trail back to the Grouse car-park which is a very pleasant easy amble back.
Busy day yesterday.
First born was at the tail end of her reading week from Waterloo and seemed to be reasonably recovered from her first outing up The Chief last weekend. In celebration she and our youngest joined Mr & Mrs E on a trip to Petgill Lake.
The trailhead is near Murrin Provincial Park – just north of Britannia Beach on the Sea to Sky highway. The various hike websites all agree it’s about 5.5km each way and takes about 5hours or so round trip.
However, they all make light of the fact that the trailhead is on the opposite side of one of the most dangerous stretches of the most dangerous highway in BC! By the time all four of us had safely made it to the eastern side of the highway, I was pretty much ready to go home. We’d learn later though that it was actually comparatively quiet on the highway. It was much worse crossing it on the way back.
The trailhead itself is an unassuming little track heading into the undergrowth and I can see how several people had reported it as easy to miss. Though I’d taken the precaution of placing a waypoint in my Garmin to be on the safe side, we actually had no problem finding it. The pile of empty beer cans helped.
The trail starts off reasonably steeply, but still quite definitely a track, narrow though it is. Within a few metres though, you are into full on scrambling, and I have to say it was not a particularly pleasant start. It’s not overly difficult or anything, but slimy moss on oozing granite rock is not a particularly pleasant proposition. After a reasonably steep climb though you’re back onto normal woodland trails, and are rewarded for the effort with a rock outcrop serving as a viewpoint out over Howe Sound.
Whilst we were having a short breather, a group of four 30-somethings came down the trail. Initially I was impressed and a little surprised. It was only about 10:30am by this time and for them to be almost back to the car-park must have meant an early start since they didn’t seem to have camping gear. One of the guys seemed a little under-dressed too in only trainers and T-shirt/shorts. The two ladies seemed to be of the antipodean persuasion and much better prepared to be out on the hills. Mr T-shirt asked if we had walked the trail before, and I replied in the negative. I was a little taken aback when he said that there was a logging road and they’d turned back because it seemed to be active. The trail is closed Monday to Friday to avoid conflicts between the logging operation and the general public. A lone hiker is no match for a fully loaded logging truck. I asked him to clarify though, and it was their choice to return, they hadn’t actually been turned back by logging staff.
Though we hadn’t walked this trail before, we had researched it and I was aware that there was a stretch of a couple of kilometres of logging road we needed to follow. The fact that these guys were spooked when they came across it seemed to indicate that they were far from well prepared. Probably safer they turned back when they did, and thankfully they didn’t ask if they could tag along with us. We met two other parties during the day. One young couple up near the lake itself and an older couple walking their terrier like it was just a stroll in the park. They too seemed to be ill prepared and under-dressed for the conditions, but at least seemed to know where they were going.
This is one of those “uphill – both ways” kinds of hikes. It’s about 5.5km each way, as I mentioned and it’s a steady climb all the way. In practice there’s a bit of contouring around a few hills, but because this happens in heavily wooded terrain, you’re not really aware of it.
After a while we came to a rock outcrop that offered a view northwards towards Squamish.
The steepest part (after the initial scramble) is on the logging road itself, so it’s just a slog up the muddy track. As we came through the woods to the road, there’s a definite change in the aura of the place. You move from the usual tranquil woodland vibe to this sense of despair and destruction. Logging is a prime resource for BC, but the up-close consequences of the industry are quite heart-breaking. The trail is closed Monday to Friday because of the trucks and other traffic on the logging road, but despite the old signage and assurances that the logging isn’t current, there was still the unmistakeable sound of a lone chainsaw somewhere not too distant, interspersed with the harrowing thud of another IKEA table in the making. I suspect this chainsaw is what had scared off the others, rather than any actual indication of traffic on the road. Anyway, as we descended to the road, we kept a leery eye open for any unexpected trucks. Thankfully there was none.
The logging road was a stark reminder of the brute strength mankind can bring to bear on issues of commerce. There were various items of heavy machinery parked up for the weekend, and the ever present buzz/whomp as the unseen feller systematically moved trees from the vertical to the horizontal. Some sections of the road were quite steep and it was amazing to imagine fully loaded log trucks climbing their way up the unmade track. We spotted a series of whimsical signs that appeared to be there to help the trucks figure out where they were in the relatively monotonous roadway. The first we saw was called “Bark and Bite” with a face of a cartoon bulldog. Out of context as it was at that point, we thought it may be a warning of guard dogs. This annoyed me as we were on a public right of way. I felt a little silly when we passed “Old Boot Hill” in the same style.
We missed the trail leaving the logging road by a hundred metres or so, but thankfully the GPS helped us find the rather discreet trail back into the woods. Tranquillity immediately re-descended and the calming effect of being swaddled in nature was palpable.
The lake itself was small and very pretty. It was overseen by a huge peak, which a trail called Goat Ridge. Looking at maps, this seems to be a range which leads East to SkyPilot. As we bundled up against the suddenly chill air, a young guy appeared from the forest with a bundle of wood under his arm. It seems he’d left his girlfriend further back on the trail while he came ahead to cook sausages on the firepit by the lake. After we’d finished our own lunch and headed back, it was still a good while before we met her on the trail. I hope the bangers weren’t burnt!
As we headed back to the logging road we met the older couple with their terrier. They were lightly dressed in training shoes and no heavy clothing. Despite the glorious sunshine it was still quite chilly by the lake, but they seemed to know where they were going, at least.
The hike back seemed to have an unexpected number of “up” bits, considering it had appeared to be up all the way to the lake. Now familiar with the route though, the time passed quickly and we were scrambling back down the rocks to the road before we knew it. Crossing the highway was not pleasant, and the increase in traffic volume was quite marked. As was the increase in average speed!
Did I enjoy it? Yes – the lake is a lovely spot in an idyllic setting. Would I go again… probably not. The logging enterprise was quite heartbreaking in its ferocity, and the couple of km on the logging road left a bit of a bad taste.
Feeling a bit stiff today. No – not like that, unfortunately.
The lack of snow hereabouts has been a real downer for the local ski and boarding enthusiasts. The North Shore mountains are positively verdant. I don’t partake in either sport, but I do enjoy a spot of snowshoeing. So much so that I invested in some decent MSR snowshoes a couple of years ago. I deeply resent not being able to use them.
The temperature yesterday was a balmy 11-12°C by afternoon in the Lower Mainland. Anyway, for once I’d planned ahead. I was so determined to get my snowshoes wet this season that I was willing to travel if necessary. A little research on uncle Google determined that Manning Park was actually reasonably well endowed with the white stuff. This was to be our target for Sunday.
Manning Park is about two and a half hours east of White Rock, but significantly higher up, on Highway 3. Number three offspring had elected to sleep over at a mate’s house on Saturday, so Mrs E and I were free to get up bright and early and managed to leave the house by 7am. We had a brief pit-stop in Aldergrove for the ridiculously cheap petrol (still less than a dollar a litre despite it being $1.11 here in White Rock), and a caffeine injection at Timmie’s. As we hacked off down Highway 1 heading for Hope (yes people really do live in Hope their whole lives. Also, yes there are people who are beyond Hope) we suddenly encountered a few bands of low cloud over the road which when mixed with the bright early sunshine made driving a little… exciting!
Once through Hope the highway splits and we took Hwy 3 towards Manning. As we climbed steadily we were grateful of the light traffic and the long weekend. This road, even without the usual seasonal ice/snow can be really uncomfortable with the heavy trucks plying their wares across the province. The cloud was still patchy and made some lovely veils across the mountains. You can see from these photos that the previous day’s rain had – as predicted by Environment Canada’s met. office – moved on and would not be messing with our day.
The temperature had started out at about 6°C as we’d left White Rock early in the morning. As we climbed Hwy 3 the temperature had steadily dropped and hovered around 0°C as we descended past the Rovent weekend camp at Cambie Creek and into the Lodge car-park at Manning. I’d read up on the various snowshoeing trails in Manning and was pretty sure that we’d be able to do something, no matter what conditions met us when we arrived. There was avalanche risk in the area, but this was primarily to the North towards one of my favourite hikes to Three Brothers (documented elsewhere in these pages). Most of the snowshoeing trails are relatively flat and snake westward towards the alpine ski runs, or around Lightning Lake. The one I’d got my eye on though was to Windy Joe, with a summit at about 1800m or so. This peak is interesting because it has an old forest fire lookout station, built in the 1940s. If you’re that way inclined you can stay overnight there, but we were aiming for a round trip in the day.
As is always prudent, I checked in with the staff at the Nordic Lodge to make sure the trail was open and that conditions were safe. Though I was pretty sure from my pre-reading, I also checked the expected travel time. It’s around 2.5hrs up during summer, so I reckoned on about 3 or so on snowshoes. It’s inevitably quicker coming back down, but a ballpark of 6 hours round trip meant we’d be back before dusk. We were prepared with additional layers, waterproofs, first aid, space blankets and the like as well as Petzl headlamps just in case darkness did overtake us. It was a pretty straightforward route with about a third on the flat by the Similkameen river, and then a series of switchbacks up the old fire road (not as easy as it sounds when you add in snow and a long series of fallen trees). Worst case, I reckoned we’d definitely be back on the flat before dusk could catch us, and the risk there was very low. Though woods can be disorienting in the dark, the nearby highway gave a constant orientation check as it runs west-east, to the north of the trail and lodge.
The following image from Google Earth has been rotated to show the Windy Joe peak in a better perspective. North is to the left of the image.
I’m always interested in documenting the trails I’ve walked, so I made sure my GPS had fresh batteries and we set off on the 16km round trip. Snowshoeing is currently free in Manning Park, but they do ask you to stay clear of the groomed cross country ski trails. As you can see in the above image, finding the start of the trail was a little harder than anticipated and we started a little more to the east than was strictly correct. We soon found a trail heading west along the north side of the Similkameen river, and once we crossed the road bridge, the trail back east on the south side was easy to spot. As I mentioned, this part of the trail is pretty flat, and though it meanders a lot through the woods, it was pretty fast going. There were a few pools and tributaries of the river and the silence added to the beauty.
Eventually the trail meets up with the old fire road, and the sign reminds us that Manning is actually the start of the Pacific Crest Trail, recently made famous by the film of Cheryl Strayed’s book Wild. The US border is very close here – though it is more easily crossed south to north than north to south. If one is caught crossing south, you may become part of America’s terrible statistic for having the most people behind bars. The penalty is a year in jail plus $5,000 fine. There is no legal way to hike the PCT north to south!
We stopped for a snack and met a group of four hikers on their way down. We later learnt that they’d overnighted at the fire lookout. From here on in, it’s up followed by more up. A steady 5km or so. As we gained height the snow quality changes quite noticeably and it morphs from crispy ice-covered snow to more soft powdery snow. The previous day’s valley rain had probably fallen as powder here. The bright sun was hidden by the dense trees thankfully, so it was actually a near perfect day for hiking. We had glimpses of perfect blue sky, but also the constant drip of melting snow from overhead branches.
Occasionally there were heavier clumps of falling snow and ice and it was easy to see how on a more exposed slope these conditions could lead to avalanche. Indeed, near the top there were trails of 10m or so where snow falls from trees had caused balls to form and roll down the slopes until they’d run out of energy.
Around the 1550m mark, the path to Windy Joe departs from the Pacific Crest Trail. This, along with the Frosty Mountain Trail head off due south at one of the many switchbacks this trail has. In summer, I’m sure this trail is very easy to identify as it was originally a supply road for the forest fire lookout. However, without the previous snowshoers packing down the trail through the forest there are definitely a few places where one could easily go astray. It was all the more weird then to suddenly come across this very formal waymark, with nothing between this and the previous marker at the intersection with the Similkameen Trail.
From here, we “just” (never trust a sentence with just in it) had 3 more switchbacks. It was still 250m of ascent though, over about 2.4km. The air was suddenly pungent with the familiar aroma of BC bud, but we never caught up with the couple who were expelling the fumes. Finally we were getting high enough for the trees to start thinning out, and at the next switchback we were rewarded with amazing views to the west. There are so many peaks in this wonderful place that many remain nameless.
We were conscious of the time now. We’d set a nominal “turn-around” time of 1pm, to give us three hours to get back comfortably before dusk, and it was now five past. The weather was still glorious and the steepness of the this last few kilometres left us confident that we needed significantly less time for the descent. It was noticeably cooler at this elevation, but neither of us was wearing even all the layers we’d begun with, let alone the backup layers we were carrying. The risks seemed low, and only 30 minutes later we passed the sign for the toilet outhouse and turned the corner to be suddenly greeted with the lookout itself. Here we met the two cool dudes who we’d smelt earlier as they were just about to head back down. They informed us that the lookout was full of “over-nighters” and there was no room to get in the lookout.
We could see the evidence of the residents and they seemed to be fully in possession. Though one of their number came to greet us, there was really no chance to take a look around inside. He mentioned that there were four of them and that there had been eight the night before – presumably the younger crowd we’d passed down at the start of the climb.
The lookout – despite its age – was in excellent condition. It is the same basic style as the one we’d seen on Mount Revelstoke. Presumably a kit of parts, the walls are actually wired together for strength against high winds, and then anchored out like a tent for extra stability. Built to provide warning of forest fires, the building itself tried to avoid being the cause by having a lightning rod in order to earth any stray sparks from the heavens. As the only structure on an exposed peak, it must surely attract the very lightning that can start wildfires. I’ll bet being inside when it was struck would literally make one’s hair stand on end!
Conscious of the time, we had a quick lunch, and let our outer layers dehumidify before heading back down.
Mrs E felt her snowshoes were not actually necessary for the descent, and I finally got to use the 5m of parachute cord I’ve always taken with me on hikes in order to attach her snowshoes to her backpack. The descent was substantially quicker as expected, and we still had good light as we headed over the bridge and back towards the lodge. From this direction, it was a lot easier to see the flagging tape marking the correct trail and so we crossed the road slightly further west than on the way up.
16km in all. Almost exactly 6 hours including late lunch at the top. A great day’s hike. The snowshoes probably weren’t strictly necessary, but they did make for easier going up the slope, for sure. I sank up to my calf in a few places even with them on, so I’m sure those could have been much more interesting (read – potentially dangerous) without them. I shall definitely return in summer to see it in a different light.
We were all packed up and in the car by 5pm, and heading back home as the light failed. As we dropped back into the Fraser Valley, the temperature rose again, and it was 12°C. So glad it wasn’t that warm up on the hill!