Fat, noisy, smelly - they are back, cluttering the floating breakwater in Cowichan Bay Fisherman's Wharf.
Sea Lions, on their way back to California, for a little stop to catch a few salmon before those disappear up-river somewhere to spawn. Maybe to catch a couple of crabs...who knows. But they must be getting plenty, judging by their obviously well nourished appearance.
Asleep...bit crowded on this finger.
Having a barking conversation with a couple of huge truck tires.
Resting on an upturned dinghy beside a cooler.
No people on the floating outside breakwater, no one would want to get to close to these monsters. Note the dusting of snow on one of the far away mountain tops...
Ah, a little friendly chat between the newly awakened party goers.
Colder weather shrivels up the last bits of deer edible greenery, now the local ungulent polulation is into the deer proof stuff in earnest. This girl is munching at heather sprigs (definitely deer-proof), whilst boyfriend takes his ease in the back garden chewing the cud.
Cowichan Valley goes to the polls today - maybe. The most talked about issue is the creation of an ECO-DUMP, in other words a re-cycling station, smack in the middle of a rural area with a lot of cows, chickens, hay fields and a number of small farmish houses. A narrow windy country road leads to the site. Not much room for dump trucks to pass each other to and fro the Eco-Dump. Someone else's back yard and that is where most of residents want to keep it, even the ones which are 'pro-dump', who mostly live in areas somewhat removed from the disputed site.
However, a first look out of the window this morning does not bode well for voter turn out, historically the worst for municipal elections, in all of our glorious Canada, even in the best of weathers. We may 'stand in guard for thee', but jumping onto the voting band waggon is another story.
A test step on my driveway proves the point, black ice underneath a thin layer of snow, which highlights the last red maple leafs still clinging to the branches of a tree down the road.
My apple tree still hangs on to the last crinkly leafs as well.
And overnight, a large ocean freighter has dropped anchor below my windows.
Yes, I mean below my window....
Pompano is the ship's name. It appears as if he is hoisting his anchor, but closer inspection through binoculars reveals the white anchor chain of his port anchor. So he is NOT drifting around in the currents.
Well, lets hopethe black ice melts before long, and I will go and perform my civic duty...
From home to nature's backyard. Down at Gulfstream River, the Chum Salmon are defying all predictions of no-shows and jump, struggle, swim their way upstream in search of their gravelly place of origin. There they court each other, fight each other, mate and procreate, and protect their precious eggs from predators (like the guys above) wait for their skins to flake off, and die a slow death.
Here is the heavy clean up equipment, not as numerous as our winged friends. However, these fellow don't worry about how far the fish carcass has decayed, they just swallow the whole thing in one piece.
The whole show takes place under the canopy of ancient cedars, who have witnessed a few salmon runs in their lives. Traces of salmon, which made their way through gull droppings into the surrounding earth and from there into the trees, are found in the oldest growth rings of these giants of the forest. Recycling and composting are not exactly a new invention.
Keep the bears at bay! School kids are getting a hands on biology lesson made palatable with a little picnicking on the river side.
The Cowichan Valley boasts a few relics from the not so old pioneering history. Little churches, which were built many decades ago, hide along quiet country roads. Abandoned railway beds wind their way through rural landscapes and enclaves of old growth and replanted forest. The country roads pass through a few villages and along occasional farms, crossing creeks and rivers which snake their way amongst the mountains and hills of Cowichan region.
Resting in peace now, when Fall has cooled the air. In summertime picnickers would spread their lunch on a few tables set out in the church yard with a view of long departed settlers and enjoy the restful country ambiance.
Just opposite the church a tiny park at the Koksila River Bank, commemorating one of the heroes of a by-gone era, when logging was king, and the giant trees of the valley would be turned into ships' masts, building materials, railway sleepers, bridges, mine shaft supports and docks amongst a host of other things.
Reflection of branches in the clear Koksila River, where fallen Maple Leafs line the river bottom...
Or cover the forest floor, silently changing colour...
A solid wooden bridge leads Across the River and into the Trees...
The roads turns from pavement to gravel to hard earth and narrows along a twenty kilometer access to Kinsol Trestle, recently renovated and saved from slowly rotting away.
Here it is in all it's refurbished beauty, hundreds of new heavy wooden beams have replaced the rotting timbers which made the bridge unsafe for transit. The rails are long gone, the trains have stopped ages ago. Now the bridge connects two segments of the Trans Canada Trail, the longest trail in the world. Before the re-opening of the trestle, hikers had to trudge along a 25 km detour to get to the other side of the gorge just a couple of hundred meters away.
A little history confirms, that this engineering marvel is actually the largest wooden trestle in the Commonwealth, and one of the highest in the world. Cowichan's entry into the record books...The name 'Kinsol' harks back to the time, when the bridge connected to a nearby mine proudly called King Solomon's Mines.
Koksila River at the bottom of the Gorge. The area around the bridge is fast forest land with interlacing trails for hikers and bikers
