Prince George to Vancouver

Ok, it’s catch up time. I want to share the journey from Prince George to Vancouver, which happened over a week ago-

Ok, Prince George, Fort George, named after King George, was a fur trading settlement, now it has three pulp mills. Air quality is an issue, although the two times I’ve been there the air was clear. Its one magnificence may be that it is situated where the Nechako River meets the mighty Fraser River and there are some excellent sites of the rivers in easy access from town. We were only there for two days and I got out for a drive up the hill to the University to get some good sites of the lay out of the city, and managed to get a few good photographs. You can see one of the mills in the distance. But look how clear the air is! Then I spent the afternoon down at Cottonwood Park and the Nechako where gorgeous walking trails follow the banks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Leaving P.G we (husband Bob) decided to take the Duffey Lake Road to Squamish, a far superior scenic drive that follows a small river and past Seton Lake with great camping all along the way. The photographs that follow are taken along the Duffey and into Squamish, then ending in Vancouver. We stopped and stayed a night in Vancouver to see our son and his band play at the yacht club to promote their new EP, then caught the B.C. Ferry home the next morning. Even the ferry home is like a mini cruise, and seeing my little island rise up as we close in on Departure Bay is always a warm welcome. I love where I live!

Foothills near Lilloet B.C.

 

Lilloet B.C. on the Fraser River

 

Seton Lake

 

Last years land slide on the Duffey Road.

 

The old Chief Mountain in Squamish B.C.

 

Kite surfing in Squamish B.C.
Vancouver False Creek, Granville Island (which isn’t really an island) from the Granville Street bridge

 

 

Granville Island Vancouver, from the Granville Street bridge

 

English Bay from the Granville Street Bridge, Vancouver, B.C.

 

Ferry Home

David and Goliath

We got out on our first little sail of the summer the other day, the winds were light but steady and the sun had finally burned away most of the clouds. We didn’t venture far, just around Snake Island four miles out due to the light air. We were kept company by a couple of these big fellas waiting at anchor to get into Vancouver’s port across the Strait.

They are a bane to some of the residents here, hearing the rumbling as they let out their chain rode to drop heavy anchors, complaining of their noisy generators running during the night, and their sometimes bright lights, especially if they anchor particularly close to our island, but I’m fascinated by their  scale, the engineering of their structure, and the historical connection they carry.

Moving cargo by sea is ancient, the world’s economy has hinged on floating vessels up and down great river and ocean systems for millennia. I don’t want to comment necessarily on the cargo they now transport other than to say besides the many loads of sneakers, import cars, stuff for the Wal-Mart’s, or raw log exports – lets face it we buy all this stuff, no right to judge what is necessary goods; there is perhaps much more that is down right dangerous like the diluted  toxic Bitumen that will be coming through the pipeline from the Alberta tar sand’s channeled through B.C.’s mountain range and pristine wilderness for freighter export out of Vancouver’s busy harbour.  Odds are certain this big red ship from Majuro will have such cargo.

It’s the paradox of human ingenuity, we can create incredible feats of engineering that by the same token can harm or destroy. The double edge sword that’s hidden in our many revered works. The Pyramids or the great wall of China can inspire and we marvel and congratulate our innovations, but the lives of thousands of slaves that severely toiled and perished seem to escape us.

And while these ships are striking to see up close, their tenuous journey out to the open pacific before first threading through our narrow passages and skirting our active gulf islands causes some amount of disdain.   But what can we do? We are hypocrites all.