Category Archives: animal and plant life

The Sunshine Coast

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 24, 2024, Kent, WA- The fiords are both forbidding and welcoming at the same time, and I can imagine that the navigators taking us safely to port today must exercise the same caution, around rocks, shoals and marine mammals, as had the kayakers who first came here from Alaska, thousands of years ago, or the various Europeans in their great carracks and frigates, in the final stages of the “Age of Exploration”, in the Eighteenth Century.

It took forever, it seemed, to leave Saltery Bay, the southern edge of the district of Powell River. Someone got carried away and overbooked the late morning ferry, resulting in dozens of people having to wait until the 2:30 sailing. I was one of those who got there after the cutoff. So were the demure woman in the car behind me, and the boisterous, overwrought guy behind her, who blared his car’s horn at the slightest provocation, until the gate guard informed him that he would be asked to find another way to get to his destination, if this were to continue. 2:30 came, though, as 2:30s always do, and we were looking at the scenes below, in short order.

Approaching Earls Cove, on British Columbia’s Sunshine Coast. (Above and next three photos)

Before too long, I was in Halfmoon Bay, the blowhard having zoomed past, at his first opportunity and the sweet lady just going on, once I turned left, onto this property.

The little bit o’ heav’n, Halfmoon Bay, BC

My hosts over the past two days present a reassuring picture for the next two decades of this life. David and Carol are keeping active, both physically and mentally-adjusting to the challenges that advanced maturity, as I prefer to call it, bring to the best-lived of lives.

My hosts, on the Sunshine Coast

I spent much of the past two days in their company, going along for an errand trip to town and joining in a devotional, yesterday morning. Our meals were simple, but David is a healthful cook and presents balanced fare. I can’t top his fish, ginger and rice porridge.

My assistance was with the few things that they cannot do on their own. A key to being successful, in the ninth and tenth decades of life, lies in not giving up those chores and actions that are still within one’s power-even while facing the limitations that nature imposes. I visited with Carol, in her quilting studio and helped with a small item-putting a new battery in her wall clock.

A quilting studio
Heirloom embroidery. The calligraphy is in Arabic script: “God is the All-Glorious”.

The small flower beds add the ambiance of the British countryside. This is not hard, as things grow easily here-despite the thinness of the topsoil in a rain forest environment.

Shrubbery and forest co-exist. The shrubs actually help the soil become deeper and more stable, when the leaves fall and are left to become humus. Evergreens need this sort of symbiosis.

I took a short (5 km) hike in the surrounding area, above Halfmoon Bay. The loop road offers a fine cross-section of mainland rain forest, akin to that on Vancouver Island, as well as those of southeast Alaska and the Olympic Peninsula, of Washington State.

Gateway to Trout Lake Road
Rain forest off Trout Lake Road
British Columbia is increasing fire-wise education, as the past several years have brought horrendous wild fire, even in the rain forest. (As I was hiking in Halfmoon Bay, yesterday, there was a massive wildfire wreaking havoc in Jasper, Alberta, in the Rockies, well to the northeast of here, but still gripping attention across Canada-and beyond.)
A local teen hangout, on the Bay side.

Halfmoon Bay also has a small beach, and a general store.

Some surprising items may be found here. I picked up a package of Filipino spring rolls, for David and cashew cheese, for Carol.

Around 9 a.m., it was time to head down to Langdale, and the ferry to the Vancouver area. Again, in short order, I was back in the land of hustle/bustle-but no city stopover ensued, until I got here, to the suburban climes of Kent.

Here are a few more scenes of the Sunshine Coast>

Norwest Bay, from lower Sechelt, BC.
Horseshoe Bay, just northwest of Vancouver. (Above and below)

Onward I went, past the city of Vancouver, through the US Border, with minimal ado and stopped at the delightful Newsroom Restaurant, in the border town of Lynden, WA. Two lovely servers, working as a team, brought a small basket that satisfied my fish and chips craving. I passed on the ice cream, though I’m sure it’s delectable.

Bypassing crowded I-5, I took a more leisurely drive down WA Highway 9, only encountering rush hour between Redmond and Kent. Oh, well, some things can’t really be avoided. Golden Kent Motel is spacious and clean,and I have the joy of a kitchenette. Tomorrow will see me further down the road towards Astoria, which is still calling.

Pacific Rim National Park Reserve

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, impediments, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 22, 2024, Halfmoon Bay, BC- The earnest young guide touted West Coast Trail, a strenuous 75-mile trail that incorporates just about every skill a wildland fire fighter, or candidate for the Survivor reality series, would need in order to meet with success. He is in university, and so has not set aside his own time to do the trek-but I could see in his eyes that the will is there. The trail’s northern terminus is near Bamfield, southeast of the Ucluelet-Tofino main segment of this Reserve. Its southern trailhead is just northeast of Port Renfrew, which itself is 110 km west northwest of Victoria. The route is on par with Newfoundland’s East Coast Trail, Ireland’s Wild Atlantic, the Florida Trail, Rim-to-Rim in the Grand Canyon and Michigan’s Keweenaw Peninsula Trail. It would be a good prep for an Appalachian, Pacific Crest, Continental Divide, Colorado, or Arizona Scenic trek.

My own short hikes today gave me a good sense of what a dedicated exploration of the area would entail. Stops were at Radar Hill, Grice Bay, Combers Beach, Rainforest Trail and Kwisitis Visitor Center (where the young man was touting the trail.)

Here are scenes from those spots.

Approach to Radar Hill. This site has the remnants of a World War II era Canadian Forces radar station, which kept watch for any Japanese incursions into Canadian airspace.

Canada was a key member of the Allied forces in the Korean War, as well. This plaque commemorates the Canadian Forces’ landing at Kapyong.

Commemorative ciinul for Radar Station. Like indigenous people in the United States, First Nations people in Canada were all-in, for defending the homeland during wartime.

Grice Bay lies about three kilometers east of the main Pacific Rim (Tofino-Ucluelet) Highway. It’s a major recreational fishing area, as one might expect, and there were quite a few boats being launched, while I was checking the place out.

View of Grice Bay from the west.
Southwest view of Grice Bay
Dolphins were moving about the bay-also looking for fish.
Incinerator Rock is a spot popular with surfers, just north of Rainforest Trail and Combers Beach.

The trail to Combers Beach has several elements of the rain forest, in and of itself.

Looking at these giant ferns transported me to the Silurian Era.
Huckleberries abound at Combers Beach.

Driftwood forts are everywhere at Pacific Rim. Combers Beach reminded me of Kalaloch, Washington, in that respect. (Next two photos)

This looks like a fair shelter from a storm.

The surf at Combers looks as enticing as any I’ve seen, north of Doheny. The beach is famous for its riptides, and guidance on how to handle a riptide is prominently displayed here.

Incoming tide, Combers Beach

Next up was Rainforest Trail. It was not really redundant, after the Combers experience, reinforcing the importance of recognizing the fragility of both the water table and the soil. Water storage is not strong here, because the soil is so thin. For communities like Tofino and Uculuet, this means taking strong conservation measures, despite the high average yearly rainfall. Rainforests endure more droughts than one might think.

Canopies help to preserve water, by limiting sunlight.

Red cedars, Rainforest Trail, Pacific Rim.
Sitka spruce coexist nicely with red cedars.
Saplings, springing up, guard the soil’s moisture even more.

Finally, at Kwisitis, there was a feast of driftwood and black basalt.

Wickawinnish Beach, Kwisitis
Basalt outcroppings, Kwisitis

In this Visitor Center, we learned much about the sacredness with which the Tla-o-qui-aht and neighbouring nations approach the whale hunt, to this day. The bowhead is taken with the same reverence that other Indigenous hunters approach the hunting of bison, deer or elk. The entire animal is put to use, once the kill is made, and there was/is a strict limit on the hunt.

The balance of nature weighs on the minds of all who wish to see our Planet thrive. The Nuu-cha-hulth-aht, of Ucluelet, are no exception.

Tofino

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, children, collaborating, Entertainment, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 21, 2024, Powell River,BC- I must have looked like a duck out of water, clad in t-shirt and shorts, in 55 F (12.7 C) and cloudy weather. A Tofino pull-over hoodie presented itself, and so the duck was back in the water, in short order. The few small children present appeared to breathe a sigh of relief. The adults, being the flinty sort, were more “Well now, that shows there’s a light on upstairs, after all, eh?” Thus it goes, when one finds slivers of foggy dew, after days of high heat, even ten kilometers inland.

Tofino, and its sister town, Ucluelet, are the north and south anchors of Pacific Rim National Park Reserve, western Vancouver Island’s well-visited gem. I first heard of the place, when sent a recording of a young girl prodigy from there, and was drawn to its artsy vibe. Friends who had been to the area corroborated this rather laid back aura, but said it was getting somewhat more commercialized. So, as with any other place that sets forth competing reputations, I had to go see for myself.

This brief break from Baha’i-centered visits took me to Whalers on the Point Guest House, at Tofino’s north end. The name refers to the whale hunting traditions of the Tla-o-qui-aht (“Clayoquat”, in English parlance) First Nation and their neighbours along V.I.’s west coast, as well as of the Makah people, across the Strait of Juan de Fuca. The large and comfortable, family-friendly hostel was a beehive of activity, especially in and around the kitchen. The ambiance, though, was most welcoming.

Between an evening sunset stroll (at 9:45 p.m.) and a longer walkabout in the downtown area, this morning, I got a sense of Tofino life. Here are some scenes.

The salubrious hostel
Clayoquot Sound, on a foggy Sunday morning

The entrance to Tofino’s children’s park
Salvage art, part of a display by Pete Clarkson, a marine debris collector. His Washed-Up Workshop has several pieces in this unique downtown garden.
Another of Pete’s pieces
Ciinul (totem pole), with explanation below:

So I found this earnest community, of First Nations people and eclectic artisans. Now, it was time to check out the National Reserve itself.

Farm to Table

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Personal Values, Service Activities, Slow Food, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

July 15, 2024, Orland, CA- My hosts have a “tomato problem”. The fruit is everywhere, on their ten acre spread. Lots of goodness has found its way to fruition here, on the south side of this earnest, and squared away, farming community, west of Chico.

The Central Valley is hot, as it always is in the height of summer, with the added burden today of a massive fire at a recycling plant on the edge of Chico, some twenty miles east. There have already been fires in Oroville, 40 miles to the south, and I could see the faint outlines of smoke to the north of here, as I drove into Orland’s neat and clean downtown.

Here on County Road 18, though, the air is cooling off and the fields are lush, drawing sustenance from the canals and the irrigation ditches that connect these tendrils of one of America’s prime breadbaskets. My hosts came here from the oven of Phoenix, about 18 months ago, and immediately felt a ton of relief, at the ambiance of being between two mountain ranges and the sense of contributing to food security.

Almond orchard, Orland, CA

Assorted fruit trees (apple, plum and apricot) adorn the north and east sides of the spread. (Above and below)
Irrigation is king here. This ditch nourishes several farms in southwest Orland.

The trees also serve as windbreaks.
Every farm needs a barn with good bones.
Lee, with the bees. This mini-apiary helps to not rely on commercial hive keepers, who service the larger farms nearby.

Needless to say, 9/10 of the dinner plate was filled with goodies that came straight from the backyard: Potatoes and a good part of the salad mix. The meat was from down the road, but it was organic, too.

The road here from Carson City was a very clogged, slowed by construction along I-80 and CA 20, and much quicker on CA 32. Truckee was a fun stop, with mid-morning snack at Coffee And, and just people watching along Main Street. Families are just a joy to observe.

Breathing country air is, likewise, a joy-especially on a spread that is free of toxic pesticides. It’s been a reassuring break, to see the fruits of good folks’ labours.

Eastbound and Back, Day 31: Cave of Wonders

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, children, Community, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Personal goals, Personal Values, service, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 29, 2024, Dickson, TN- The little girl saw an elephant, a red horse, octopus suction cups, a jellyfish, as our party of six visitors and two guides walked along the cavern path. We all saw the ghost of George Washington, a Persian palace, various wooden ships, Lover’s Lane, Dante’s Inferno and a grand ballroom, within the confines of the southern sector of Grand Caverns.

This is the vacation part of my journey. In between family visits and days of service, I am in the Southland, taking in natural wonders of this incredible cavern system and, in the days to come, a few historic sites. The guides, Lily and Malachi, are fonts of knowledge about this system, only half of which is open to general tours, with another 1/3 available for an “Adventure Tour” package-which I would consider on a different visit, if a certain someone is interested in coming along. Time will tell.

The day started nicely, with a light breakfast at Broad Porch Coffee House, the latest successor to beloved and sorely-missed Artful Dodger. The counter staff have the same bright energy and sweet disposition that Jasmin (not her real name) had, ten years ago. Maybe it’s the feng shui of the place.

Leaving Harrisonburg, I noted a sign for the little town of Grottoes, which intrigued me enough to turn off and head east on the small Virginia highway. Grottoes have fascinated me since the days when one was able to visit the three waterfalls of Jeju, Korea. (Those waterfalls have since been expropriated by a Chinese businessman, who uses their water for his own ends.) The name of the Virginia town is drawn from Grand Caverns, discovered serendipitously by a curious teenager, in 1804. The caves became a tourist attraction, shortly thereafter, and remain so to this day, the oldest show caves in the United States.

Lily explained, without editorial comment, that both Stonewall Jackson and Union officer Dixon Miles had brought their men into the caverns, at various times. No battle was fought in the caves, though there was a skirmish on Cave Hill, above the labyrinthine system. (Dixon Miles is remembered for planning to surrender Harpers Ferry, but died before he could do so. Stonewall Jackson, of course, ended up being shot and killed by one of his own men, in what was officially called “a case of mistaken identity”.)

Here are some scenes of the caverns. For perspective, the guides explained, note that stalactites (ceiling-based) and stalagmites (floor-based) grow at a rate of 3 cubic inches a year. The collective term for these formations, and for any other cave formation, is speleothem. That includes all the animals that the girl saw, and the ghost of George.

The Elephant
The Hitching Post

After this incredible seventy-minutes, I thanked the guides profusely, then headed over to a food truck, parked on the south side of Grottoes’ town center. El Carreton offers fabulous north Mexican fare, from the unassuming vehicle. Enjoying half of the burrito especial, I savoured equally the serene emptiness of a town, whose residents were mostly at work elsewhere.

The Ghost of George Washington
Reflecting Pool
End of the Line

Down through the Spine of Virginia, and across Tennessee, I did not stop at my customary refuge. It was not a good time for a visit. So, positioning myself for tomorrow’s long-delayed exploration of Shiloh, I stopped for the night at this western anchor of I-840, the southern Nashville by-pass. Music City has much to draw me in, but this time is intended for other pursuits.

Eastbound and Back, Day 29: The Forest’s Edge

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, children, collaborating, Family, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 27, 2024, Oley, PA- It was a time of assessment, as the eight-month old regarded me from her high chair, as seven of us gathered for breakfast this morning, at a substantial place called Nudy’s Cafe. I’ve noticed that infants born this year are less likely to grasp a finger that is placed in their hand, without first carefully looking at the person for a while. This is a new experience for me, and it will be interesting to see how the youngest Alphas and first-born Betas (from next year on) turn out, in terms of later social interaction. She did call out to me and maintain eye contact, as the meal progressed. Her older brother, on the other hand, talked non-stop, about subjects ranging from the planets to dinosaurs. He is bound and determined to be a social butterfly.

My PA family (2/3 of them)

Rain, or the hint of it, led to another event in Exton being canceled. So, after the sumptuous breakfast, I bid farewell to 2/3 of my Brandywine Valley family and headed up here, a scant forty minutes and a cultural world away. Oley Valley is all about farms, traditional values of Mennonites and a strong bond between humans and the land. My host, David, said that there was a time when a lively camp existed, at the end of the road which borders his family’s properties on the west. There was camping and fishing there. Now, since the owner of the camp died, the forest has grown back up and there is a clear marker between fields and woods. Manatawny Creek is only reached by bushwhacking a bit, at least in that particular spot.

The Greenhouse, which still bears the Glick family name, and was built up by David and his family, goes on without his leadership. It looks like it is still booming, though, having expanded to nine houses, during his last few years of active work there. He is turning his attention now to the garden beds, on an adjoining property. Love for the soil never leaves a true farmer’s heart.

I walked down to the edge of the forest, and saw these scenes, during the course of this afternoon.

Eastbound and Back, Day 27: No Fire This Time

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, children, collaborating, Community, distraction issues, Entertainment, Family, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal goals, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 25, 2024, Bethlehem, PA- I was drifting off to another blissful sleep, and the unmistakable sound, from years of running drills at various schools, got me out of bed and out of the building, in a flash. There I was, pajama-clad, and in sockless shoes, with a slowly-accumulating gathering of fellow guests, and the few staff who didn’t need to be in the office. “It’s just like school, huh?”, I remarked to an excited little girl, as her father grimaced and shook his head. The whole episode lasted twenty-five minutes, the police officer gave the all-clear and we headed back inside, as the seven firefighters continued their inspection of the wiring and checking for signs of (illegal) indoor smoking, or untended cooking. (This is an extended stay establishment, and there are two flat stove burners, in each room, as well as a microwave oven-which could lead to burnt popcorn.) The Cuban maintenance director, sounding like Desi Arnaz on steroids, promised he’d find out if anyone was responsible for the mayhem. All I know is, it wasn’t me-and probably wasn’t the guy standing next to me, who looked as if he were a clean-shaven Rip Van Winkle.

My last night in New England, for this trip, anyway, came to an end with a small purchase of a coffee and empanada, from 7-11, and a farewell to Nitey-Nite Motel’s owner, who barely looked up from his game of Solitaire, as I dropped off the key card. That’s okay; he offers clean, quiet rooms at a decent price. Hartford and Waterbury were a breeze to get past. Danbury was still Danbury-the same jockeying for position, at the split between U.S. 7 and I-84, leading some of us to wait 2-3 seconds in the inner lane of 7, before a quick break let us onto the 84.

It’s been a while since I stopped at Arlene and Tom’s Family Diner, Port Jervis. The same “Home of the Free, because of the Brave” sign is there, and the TV is still set to Newsmax. The pastrami is still among the best in the Catskill region, though, so that’s what matters most. Besides, it is always good to know what both sides are thinking, in this cosmic stew that is America, and the world, in 2024.

This visit to New England, and to the northeast Atlantic region beyond, reassured me of everyone’s love. Seeing cousins from both sides of the family, being able to repay Mom for all the nurturing she has given, over seven decades, being with my three siblings in a delightful dining room, visiting the graves of my father and baby brother, visiting a boyhood friend and connecting with Baha’is in Cape Breton Island, Corner Brook (NL) and Green Acre Baha’i School have made the month an exemplary one. Starting May off with a visit to the House of Worship certainly helped, in terms of spiritual energy. There was more interest in the Faith, from family and friends, this time around. Mom even read some prayers from my book. I was sent forward with top-notch pizza in Mishawaka, and, despite the jibes from someone I love very much, managed to keep in the good graces of hoteliers from Gallup to South Windsor. Time on the French-ruled island of St. Pierre was the icing on this very rich cake.

Now I am in Pennsylvania, with this hotel, an Air BnB and a private guest room as places of rest, during this second round of family visits. This evening was another special event-well before the fire drill. I visited these fine people, enjoyed fabulous Persian rice, salad and soup, with copious amounts of jicama and watermelon for dessert. I was also edified by the various “Got Talent” clips of performances by American and British senior citizens-most of whom were extraordinarily talented.

I also was briefly introduced to Tatamy Village’s community park.

Tatamy Park

Now, I lay me down to sleep, again.

Eastbound and Back, Day 24: The Harbour is Home

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, Assistance, children, collaborating, Community, Education, Family, Hiking and Nature, Historical, Inspiration, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 22, 2024, Boothbay Harbor- The voices of the thirty or so fourth graders were music to my ears. They were scattered across the grounds of Boothbay Region Land Trust’s Oak Point Farm, where my cousin and I were walking, this morning. Kevin and his extended family are neighbours to this splendid Trust property We walked the 1-mile loop trail, with the joyful noises of chatter and singing as a backdrop.

Oak Point Farm, Boothbay Harbor

The property gives focus to all that makes life in Boothbay such a treasure: The interplay of water, land and sun, with clouds as frequent visitors; the birds, large and small, with cardinals and goldfinches as the most numerous, and vocal, of the lot; the gray squirrels and chipmunks, scattering as large, lumbering humans approach; the red squirrels, sometimes “standing their ground” and chittering, “Thus far, and no farther”, whilst standing on their hind legs.

Downtown Boothbay Harbor

We went later to downtown Boothbay Harbor, taking in the harbourside scenes, with K describing what he knew of the town’s history-which turned out to be a considerable amount. The area was once both fishing haven and a tannery hub. The tanneries are gone, but fishermen still rule here, even as the high and mighty still come into the harbour, in their yachts and small cruise ships. It is the small fisherman who makes towns like Boothbay Harbor what they are-regardless of their appeal to people of means, or to artists and artisans.

After a round of photos, we went to the local YMCA, and an hour or so of soaking in the warm Therapy Pool. As I have not been to Planet Fitness for several weeks, the buoyancy of the pool was a nice treat for my muscles, and was followed by fifteen minutes in the sauna. This YMCA is directly across the road from Boothbay’s public schools, so it is a natural gathering place for teens from the middle and high schools, after classes. In addition, each second grade student enjoys mandatory swimming lessons.

We went back to the house and enjoyed a fine spaghetti dinner, then spent an hour or two talking of spiritual matters-a good segue, as this evening brings the observance of the Declaration of al-Bab, the Day in 1844, when the Herald of the Baha’i Dispensation first told another soul of His (brief) Mission to humanity.

Rest will come easy tonight, and tomorrow-down to Massachusetts, by way of Green Acre Baha’i School.

Central Wharf, Boothbay Harbor
An opportunity for a park or greenspace, downtown Boothbay Harbor
Stone mason’s gift, Oak Point Farm

Eastbound and Back, Day 20: Newfoundland Notes, Part V

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, impediments, Inner Struggles, Matters of Faith, Personal Values, Service Activities, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 18, 2024, Corner Brook- The giddy photographer stopped, rolled down his car window, and called out to the two moose who were nonchalantly grazing away, in a field adjacent to the road. He snapped a couple of photos, as I was passing by in the opposite direction, to tend to other business. When I got back, the shutterbug and moose had disappeared. Oh, well. They are probably not the last moose I will see this trip. There have been four, so far.

After opting for a light breakfast, this morning, I left Carriage Inn around 10:30. The road back to Corner Brook was generally lightly-trafficked and the weather was delightful. A lone cow moose, grazing off the road, was cause for people to flash bright lights at one another. The big elk could have cared less. She was way off the road and the grass must have been sweet.

Carriage Inn, Grand Falls-Windsor
Meeting with Baha’is of Corner Brook
Crow Gulch mural

I arrived at River’s End Motel, around 2, and was directed to use a code, in order to get into my room. This seems to be an anomaly, as yet, absentee owners and a brief, every-other-day housekeeping service. I am only here overnight, so it makes little difference to me. The room is clean and comfortable, so we’re good.

My visit to Baha’i friends here was more old school-a hearty and joyful conversation, of about two hours, followed by a simple and satisfying meal of pizza and chicken soup. Then, more conversation, focusing on ongoing issues with treatment of First Nations people in certain parts of Canada. I have seen some strides being made in that regard, in the west of the country, at least, and in some areas of Cape Breton, but as in the U.S., much remains to be accomplished.

Crow Gulch was an area, largely settled by Miqmaq families, just above a paper mill, on the outskirts of Corner Brook. It was the object of scorn from those who considered themselves “better off”, as the homes were seen as being haphazardly built, with few having electricity or running water. The community lasted from the 1920s until about 1980, when it was vacated and bulldozed. Crow Gulch is now honoured by a mural and by a book of poetry, written by a descendant of two of its residents. Those looking back on the place today recall it as having been a vibrant community, where the joy of close-knot families outweighed the hardships caused by outward poverty.

It is places like Crow Gulch that are as important to me, if not more important than, any swanky or upscale locales. The spirituality of a given place is its most important feature, and such strength of purpose is stronger, quite often, in rural communities than in areas where the pace of life is more brisk. This is recognized by many, in the video below.

Tomorrow marks my final day in Newfoundland, for this year, at least. It’s gratifying that I would be welcome back here, to stand with those making a decent life for themselves in this beautiful and sometimes harsh land of four seasons: Just another place to call home.

Eastbound and Back, Day 18: France in North America, Part II

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Posted by on in animal and plant life, collaborating, Community, Hiking and Nature, Inspiration, Personal Values, Social, Spiritual, Striving, Travel

May 16, 2024, St. Pierre- White-breasted nuthatch sat on a small fir branch, and chirped at me to follow THIS way. Going in the direction he was flying, I heard rushing water, indicating there was a small waterfall. I followed a short path, through the firs, and there was indeed a small, but feisty, stream that had produced the makings of a pair of rills, just noisy enough to catch the attention of bird and man. The nuthatch flew off and I headed back towards the Anse a Pierre Road, and Auberge Quatre Temps.

Small rill, near Anse a Pierre

I seem to be getting greeted more by happy, chatty dogs and small children today. That is a good way to live. A large black lab/Rottweiler mix stood guard at one of the houses I passed, but was more glad to see me than perched ready to guard his owner’s house. A little Shih-tsu came out the sidewalk, a bit later, and wanted to play and have her belly rubbed. Her owner had other plans, and called to her: “Remy! Maintenant!”, so playtime ended. A couple of boys who were heading home for lunch (Students can still do that, here) were curious as to why I was inside the cathedral, when there were no lights on. I didn’t need lights for a brief visit, was my answer. There also was no other activity inside, other than a curious Americain saying a few Baha’i prayers and taking photos.

Cathedral de Sacre Coeur, St. Pierre

Today was a good day for crepes, so I stopped in at Roc Cafe, just as the lunch hour was starting (It’s 12-2, in the French style), for a plate of 3 Fromage Galettes, avec jambon. The young waiter gave a quizzical expression, when I mentioned having enjoyed galettes in Amiens and in Lille, ten years ago. It’s true that the dish is essentially Breton in origin, but other parts of northern France have jumped on the galette bandwagon, much as in the U.S., one can get Maine lobster in Phoenix, jambalaya and gumbo in Buffalo, Cuban sandwiches in Seattle and just about any style of barbecue anywhere besides where the style originated. I did recall later, having had my very first galettes at Daily Gourmand, in Vannes, exactly where they would be expected. Galettes are buckwheat crepes, usually with a savory filling.

As indicated earlier, I spent a good part of the day on the trail. My route went from just north of Quatre Temps to a small rock overlooking Anse a Pierre, and the island of Langlade, five kilometers to the west. There were ups and downs, bogs to be worked around, a section of road, which served as a good marker-as this taiga/tundra landscape is just large enough for a wanderer to get lost. Fortunately, I also learned enough about hiking in boggy terrain, at L’Anse aux Meadows, two years ago, so that I scanned for trails below my vantage point, and was able to stay on course.

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Ile Langlade, from Anse a Pierre

Now, I am back at Quatre Temps, and it is worthwhile to mention dinner. Chef Cristelle is of Michelin quality, even though she would be shocked to hear such a thing. Last night’s fresh-caught, grilled cod was accompanied by smooth risotto and freshly picked lettuce, in a light vinaigrette. This gem of a plate was followed by large pear halves, topped with caramel sauce, vanilla ice cream and not-too-sweet whipped cream. Now you know why, along with the galettes, I was easily enticed into this afternoon’s eight kilometer hike. This evening, Cristelle proposed two pressed smoked salmon cakes, served chilled, with more smoked salmon flakes on a bed of fresh lettuce and cherry tomatoes. That filled the bill nicely. Of course, 3 mini-profiteroles with ice cream and caramel sauce were the dessert, but hey, this is France-for all intents and purposes.

Tomorrow will see me back in Newfoundland, with more joyful adventures to follow-including a visit with Baha’is in Corner Brook. One of them is K’s friend from the Philippines, so I already feel connected.