If you’re fortunate enough to live in a city by the sea, you should bloody well go visit it sometimes. This last weekend I was on single-Dad duty, so Sunday morning I ignored the lowering sky and general dampness, bundled the protesting urchins into the van, and took them to the beach.
I’m not sure what this piece of Vancouver waterfront is actually called; it’s the wild part between Kitsilano and Jericho, with the really big piece of drift-log on it. There is sand but you wouldn’t really call it a beach, because it’s messy and rocky and mostly ignored. It’s totally my favorite local piece of our oceanfront.
When we got there it was still really damp, low clouds caught in Stanley Park’s trees.
Vancouver’s a nautical kind of place; there was some sort of rowing rally going on. I’m not sure which of the many variations of rowing craft these are. There are always lots of big ships floating in the outer harbour here, waiting for there loads to arrive.
Then a different variety of fast rowboat came along, with an outrigger and two people really reaching for it.
There’s always wildlife to see; rodents in the bushes, seals in the water, eagles and gulls and herons, and every which kind of duck in the water.
This woman came walking along the beach, climbed up on the big drift-log (I seem to recall hearing that it washed up in 1973), and commenced what seemed yoga practice.
By this time the sun was peeking through here and there; the kids, who’d been happy for an hour pottering and climbing and throwing rocks, were getting hungry.
I’d been enjoying shooting with the nice new 50-135, but after all, these are mountains and the Pacific ocean, something bigger is called for.
Sometimes you just can’t beat a good old-fashioned wide-angle.