Like walking in the rain, writing can require overcoming intertia

Thoreau by the fire: why would I want to leave?

I stare out the window as the autumn rain pours down, washing yesterday's slate clean.

I am thankful for the needed rain.

However, the deluge is enough to discourage all but the most dedicated walker.

I love the rain; its sound always seems to comfort me. 

Further comfort arises from the crackling fireplace. I am in a cozy cocoon, from which I do not want to stir. 

Nevertheless, as I sit reading, like a larva whose time has come to metamorphose into a butterfly, I struggle against the boundaries of my unseen prison, unconsciously at first, then more attentively

I am reading Thoreau's "The Maine Woods," and more than once he tells of trekking in the rain. Finally I put the book down, my mind made up.

Why leave this...

...for this?

Rain or no rain, I will walk.

Motivating myself to walk in the rain is much like motivating myself to write. There is an inertia that chains me to my comfortable chair, preventing me from acting on my conscious thoughts. Yet, in either case, once I shed those chains, there is little that brings me greater pleasure.

As I pull out my rain pancho, I think this trek through the torrents will transcend a stroll in the sunshine. There will be fewer people in the park where I walk, so I may see more wildlife.

I am not disappointed. As the rain slackens, the wildlife stirs from its mid-day meditations. It seems I have the entire park to myself. I am Adam, alone in the world with no one but the animals for company. I spy a pair of deer, then a pair of ducks. Two geese wing their way overhead. I hear, then see, a downy woodpecker going about his business on a tree trunk.

Nature's magic is not limited to chance wildlife encounters. Each time I inhale, my senses revel in the fresh, clean scent of rain-covered forest.

Pecking away, despite the rain.

Half an hour into my jaunt, the rain ceases and I find myself missing the very element that kept me chair-bound earlier. The sun wakens from his mid-day slumber. 

As he wipes the vanishing clouds of sleep from his face, I awake also, to the fact others are walking the park's pathways. 

With that realization, twinges of regret begin to coalesce inside my rain-hungry soul. After hiding inside from it for much of the day, I now want the rain to return, and with it the solitude and serenity of a wet, wild world.

 

But I realize that for today, the winds of Aeolus have banished the rainclouds of Zeus from the skies.

I do not dwell on this realization for too long, for I know the rains will return. And that happy knowledge stays with me, adding a spring to my step as I wend my way home, ready to shatter those other chains, ready to sit down and write.

As I conquered the rain that kept me inside, so have I conquered the inertia that kept me from writing.

Lilies, mergansers, and bears - oh my!

As we turned yet another corner in the sharply meandering River of Golden Dreams, I looked downstream to our next turn in what could be described as the top half of an "S" curve in the river. And there, about 25 yards away from us, sat a bear, just about to walk into the river.

"There's a bear!" I called out to the divine Ms. K., my paddling partner in the bow.

"Where?"

"Right ahead at 12 o'clock!"

"Oh -- holy shit...!"

"Backpaddle, hard!"

Bear encounters were the one thing the guide had not mentioned in our pre-trip safety talk.

We were essentially renting a canoe and shuttle service from Whistler Eco Tours, choosing to paddle independently on this "three-hour tour." The B.C. company offers guided trips on this river for individuals and groups, but with our experience, we felt we could handle it on our own, and go at our own pace. We could stop to take photos or videos if we wanted to, not have to wait for anyone else to catch up, and just enjoy the day without any chatter other than that from the birds and the wind whispering through the trees.

Ready to put-in at Alta Lake.

It's a popular trip, and it was a perfect day for it.

We took our time paddling north from our put-in on Alta Lake. We paddled across the glassy surface past swimmers, kayakers, canoeists and other boaters, surrounded by mountains on all the shores and under a sunny, blue sky. As I said, a perfect day for a paddle.

As we came to the end of the lake and the marshy outlet that would eventually connect with the River of Golden Dreams (that really is its name), a family of Canada geese swam in front and lost themselves in the reeds to our right.

We paddled leisurely through along the stream, which was thick with yellow water lilies, soaking up the sun, happy to not have to share the water with any other paddlers. Under a bridge, then we soon came upon the only portage we would face that day, a short carry around a fish weir.

The stream is very narrow and close at this point, and within a minute or two, we spied the junction of this stream with the river.

As the guide mentioned before we bid adieu at the lake, entering the river can be a little tricky if you're nor prepared, since you're moving perpendicular into a moving river from a still stream, with the current hitting you broadside.

We had no difficulty.

Then the fun began.

The river is not terribly fast - it's considered Class I - and not that deep; still, no one ever wants to swamp a canoe. It is fairly technical in that, it's narrow and there are numerous sharp turns, cut banks on which you can become grounded - and plenty of deadheads (partially submerged logs), sweepers and strainers that can cause issues for inexperienced paddlers. However, we managed to deal with anything that came our way with a minimum of fuss.

Time to get out and walk.

Although the river is slow and shallow, any moving water needs to be respected. Particularly on a river like this one, there is not much time where you can say, "Okay, let's stop paddling and rest for a while," like you can on a calm lake or pond.

That can present a few problems if you want to take photos, since by the time you get set to snap a pic, you've probably already floated past your subject. We saw an entire family of common mergansers standing on a bank that protruded out into the river. Paddling past it would require both of us paying attention to the task, so we pulled over to a bank that allowed us to sit relatively still. Too far away for good shots with an iPhone, though. C'est la vie. We enjoyed the experience.

Further on, we encountered another merganser. This one seemed to be eager to "lead" us, as it continued to swim downriver about 20 feet in front of the canoe. We dubbed the bird "our guide," cracking jokes about how we thought this was supposed to be a trip without a guide. After about 10 minutes, the bird swam off down into a small indent in the river and we continued on without it.

It was a few minutes after that we came around the curve of the river and saw we were pointed smack dab straight into a black bear that was preparing to bathe.

We backpaddled and grabbed onto some reeds, and as we reversed our direction, the bear climbed into the river and sat down with only its head above the water's surface. There was no place to really pull ashore here, at all. It was just a mater of waiting.

"There's our guide!" said Ms. K.

Thinking she meant from the tour company, with another canoe that had opted for a guided trip, I said (only half-kidding), "Good! Let him go first, that way the bear will get him!"

She turned around and gave me a funny look - and I realized it was the merganser.

Eventually the bear turned around, walked out of the water, back up the bank and into the bushes, and we were able to continue along, chatting about how that was a highlight of the trip and comparing notes as to how close we'd ever been to a bear in the woods. Ann had been closer, than me --- or so she thought.

We accidentally paddled past where we had planned to take out for picnic lunch, at Meadow Park, and crossed underneath a railway track and a bridge that held the Sea-to-Sky Highway.

Trip completed at Green Lake.

We were continuing to discuss our "bear encounters" when Ms. K. said, "There's something moving on the left bank...you can see the brush moving."

I should point out that at this point, the river is only 10-12 wide.

"Maybe we'll get to see a heron or some other bird," I said, thinking it was something small.

As soon as those words came out of my mouth, a big black snout peered out from behind the brush, looking right at us.

Another black bear. But one we could "reach out and touch" with our paddles if we didn't pass on the far side of the river.

I got us over there and there weren't any issues. But at one point, we were close enough we could have literally reached out and touched the bear with our paddles.

"Well, I guess that's as close as we've both been to a bear in the woods!" I said.

And that became the day's No. 1 highlight.

Within a few minutes, we reached Green Lake, paddled around a point and landed at Edgewater Lodge.

Like its counterpart, this lake was glassy and surrounded by mountains on all sides. As we rounded the point, another family of geese swam past. Geese must be the official greeters for canoeists on these lakes.

As we pulled the canoe up out of the water, I was reminded of that old saying, "A bad day paddling beats a good day working."

And a great day paddling beats just about everything.



The River of Golden Dreams: a great day trip full of fun and adventure.

Want to see more photos from the trip? Check out my photo album, Canoeing the River of Golden Dreams on my Facebook page.

No time for a long paddle? Try Deer Lake in Burnaby

You don't have to be a rocket scientist - or even a brain surgeon! - to figure out that I love to paddle. (Just look at the name of this blog.)

But I can't always get away for a three- or four-day trip; sometimes it's tough even to get away for a day, even out to a place as close as Pinecone Burke Provincial Park (where there's great canoeing) or to Bowen Island (for kayaking).



Off we go, into the wild blue -- er,
the urban wild blue yonder.

But about 15 minutes away from where I live lies Deer Lake Park. It's a small lake, not even as big as Burnaby Lake Regional Park, but it has one advantage over BLRP: you can rent canoes and kayaks at Deer Lake; you can't do that at Burnaby Lake (although there is a boat launch there, if you bring your own canoe or kayak).

The boat rental facility is seasonal, mind you. After Labour Day weekend, you really need to phone them the day you plan to go to see if they're open, especially on weekdays. Of course, if you have your own canoe or kayak, you don't have to worry about that.

Deer Lake is not challenging, it's not demanding, it doesn't even take very long to paddle around the entire perimeter of the lake. But if you're looking for a nice quiet paddle, a respite from the hustle and bustle of the city, and you don't have much time, you really can't beat it.

There are plenty of ducks and geese there to keep you company on the lake, and they don't seem to be too shy of paddlers, probably since they see them there all the time. If you get close enough to the shore, and have a pair of binoculars, you'll probably be able to spot some songbirds, as well - maybe even a wild squirrel! And overhead, if you're lucky, maybe a raptor will wing its way past you.

One of the striking things I found about paddling there is the way I was within a few metres of wild waterfowl, quiet woods and still water - but if I turned my head and looked in another direction, I could see high-rise buildings off in the distance.

Map of Deer Lake Park,
source: City of Burnaby Parks Dept.

They're far enough away that they don't disturb the ambiance of the lake. It really is quite quiet there, at least during the week, and especially when school is in session. I can imagine it might be a bit busier during the summer months, unless you get on the lake early or late - which you can do, as long as you have your own watercraft.

I'm surprised it took me eight years of living in Vancouver before I actually visited the spot this September.

While that may be my first visit, it certainly will not be the last time I dip a paddle into the waters of Deer Lake.

(If you want to see more pictures taken while paddling at Deer Lake, check out my Facebook photo album, Deer Lake Paddle.)

Reifel not the only place to go for milk and quackers

Anyone following this blog - or (even more noticeably) my Facebook and Twitter posts the last few weeks has probably detected the fact that I've been spending a great deal of time shooting pictures and videos of birds at the Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary.

Reifel is about a 45-minute drive from my house in Vancouver, just over the Knight Street Bridge, down Highway 99 to 17, then over onto Westham Island.

Driving past the farmers' fields to get to the sanctuary means we often drive past grazing cows - in other words, we get "milk" with our "quackers" (i.e., the many ducks that inhabit Reifel.)

However, there is a place even closer to where I live that is also a pretty darn good spot for bird-watching: Burnaby Lake Regional Park. Located in central Burnaby, it is easily accessed from anywhere in the Lower Mainland, with plenty of free parking and transit stops at the east and west ends of the park.


Looking west along Still Creek,
from the bridge that leads to Cottonwood Trail.



While it may not boast the presence of sandhill cranes like Reifel can, Burnaby Lake certainly has its share of mallards, wood ducks, geese and herons - as well as kingfishers and if you're lucky enough to see one, the occasional osprey. It also boasts beavers, and although I've seen the lodges, I have yet to see one of the flat-tailed little tree-munchers - but then I've only been to the park twice.

The park is pretty large, containing tennis facilities, a sports complex, a pool and a rowing pavilion in addition to the natural area around the lake. That includes a nature house and a series of trails, the main one consisting of an  11-km main trail circling the lake.

You can paddle on the lake as well, in a canoe or kayak, which is often one of the best ways to get close to wildlife - as well as the best way to see much of the lake. While the trail does provide a nice walk, for much of the walk, you can't actually see the lake itself.

Traversing it by canoe or kayak eliminates that problem. There is a public canoe launch at the sports complex, although - to my knowledge - there is no place there for the public to rent boats.

I first visited the park back in July of 1988 during a quick visit to a friend who lived in Vancouver at the time (I was living in Alberta, then). We only spent about an hour in the park.

Bath time for ducks!

It would be 23 years before I'd return again - this time for an entire day.

The day's highlight took place at Piper Spit, a bit of land that juts out into the lake from the north shore, about two-thirds of the way down the trail from the sports complex parking lot and trail head in the west end. A boardwalk allows further access out to view the lake.


Map of Burnaby Lake trails.

 

But you don't have to out there to see plenty of birds. Sitting on one of the benches on the land just before the start of the boardwalk, you'll see plenty of ducks and geese cruising up and down Eagle Creek, which empties into the lake. And of course, the real entertaining part comes when they take a bath.

While eating lunch on the bench, I also spied a northern flicker, sitting in a tree off in the distance, a fairly common bird in the area during the fall. Later on, from the end of the boardwalk, I watched a heron fish for his lunch.

Not far away from the spit is a raised viewing tower, two stories tall and wheelchair friendly, that provides you with a more expansive view.

Of course, I always contend the best view is the view from the water - and I'm already planning next year's paddle trip on the lake ...

 

(If you want to see more pictures from the lake, check out my Facebook photo album at

Birds love riparian precincts of Burnaby Lake Regional Park )

Reifel offers sanctuary for birds - and people looking to escape the city

"Quack!"

"Honk!"

"Oka-dee!"

No, those aren't new sound effects for comics that feature waterfowl as superheroes. Although they could be, I guess...(Darkwing Duck, move over!)

Those are the sounds that constantly surround you when you visit the George C. Reifel Migratory Bird Sanctuary just outside Ladner, B.C. Just take a half-hour's drive from the Vancouver International Airport, and you'll find yourself in a wetland paradise full of ducks, geese, cranes, and herons - not to mention songbirds like red-winged blackbirds or raptors like bald eagles or marsh hawks (a.k.a. northern harriers).



Bald eagle soars over our heads.

I won't go into too much detail about the sanctuary itself, its history and its functions; that can all be gleaned from the sanctuary website .

I will say that although it is a stopping place for birds migrating north and south in the spring and fall, respectively - an avian "motel" of sorts - it is also a year-round home for many other birds.

Reifel is one of those rare spots you can visit again and again, and never tire of going there. It's a special place where you can get close to nature without having to drive too far from your front step, if you live in the Greater Vancouver area. The experiences there are pretty much the same every time, but for me, there's always one gem of an experience I have that's a bit different each time, something that sets that visit apart from others.

For example, when I was there last Monday, I saw a great blue heron fly across a pond and alight on a log right in front of me. It then proceeded to spend several minutes grooming itself while I shot videos and images of the bird.

Another time, I was able to watch and record a pair of sandhill cranes strolling along the edge of the marsh. You won't see these large, rare and beautiful birds every time you go to Reifel, but I have seen them on more than one occasion.

Of course, you'll never lack company if you take the time to spend a few toonies and purchase the bags of seed ($1 each) they sell at the admission gate for people to feed the ducks and geese in the sanctuary. (That's the only food people are allowed to feed them, so be forewarned). Be prepared for a stampede, though - if you start sprinkling too close to where you're sitting or standing, you'll quickly be swamped by ducks (no pun intended, but if it works, hey...).

A quick word of caution: remember, these are wild animals - they're not pets, nor is this a zoo, so if you do go and you do feed them, keep that in mind, also.



Great blue heron gets ready to groom.



As I sit there on a bench, emptying the last few bits of seed from my paper bag, I look out at the various marshes and ponds, separated by the earthen dikes that form the trail system within the sanctuary and wistfully wish I could hop in a canoe and go paddling through the area's waterways.

Alas, that's not one of the activities visitors are allowed to participate in.
So as much as I'd love to hear the sound of a paddle dipping into Reifel's waters, I guess I'll just have to settle for walking the trails and hearing the sounds of "Quack-Honk-Oka-dee!"