A Summer of Love, Adventures and Photographic Journeys! (Part 3)

A Summer of Love, Adventures and Photographic Journeys!

(Part 3)

This third part of last summer’s journeying really brought forth, again, surprises I couldn’t have expected… As the adage would say “Timing is everything!”.

In “2016 Review in Photos”, https://steemit.com/life/@eric-boucher/my-2016-review-in-photos-for-you-all , I mentioned getting a phone call from my friend Sylvain, out of the blue, at Taissia’s, to go to the Rockies and hang out for two weeks. Well.. The precise wording actually being spoken were “hiking” not “hanging out”… I simply didn’t know whether or not my 45 year old body that had not really hiked for the past ten and a half years would be able to make it in its entirety or even partially for that matter! This timely turn of event propelled me forward into another trip under the heat of our West Coast sunshine but, also, toward the warm hearts of so many very beautiful people encountered throughout this summer.

After an almost 4 hours long wait near and in the terminal of BC Ferries in Nanaimo, where I had not taken reservations as I only wanted to be going with the flow with Taissia, I finally jumped on the one hour and thirty minute ride across to Horseshoe Bay, just north of Metro Vancouver. The view of the city of Vancouver from the boat offers some very decent shots… Here- as seen above- through the Gulf Islands, we can perceive the bustling downtown Vancouver and, in the background, Mt. Baker, a dormant volcano in Washington State, USA.

As the evening sun was coming down to a salute, I stopped a few kilometres away out of the rock-climbing mecca of Squamish to take this shot.

Far in the distance, on the bottom left-hand side, the sun is setting over the prominent summit of “Stewamus Chief”, a.k.a. “The Chief”, rising at around 700 meters above the village townsite, is the second largest granite monolith in the world. Also, and for good reasons, it is one of North America’s classic standard rock-climbing face, really worth the climb! This though, extreme sports weren’t in the air and friends in Pemberton were awaiting my arrival.

Minutes away form entering Whistler, a very fond old memories of mine came rushing through my mind as I kept on driving north-easterly. Catching in my right eye the glimpse of “Black Tusk”, the very first mountain I have ever been on top of in British Columbia during my first time on the Westcoast and only three days after having left Quebec City, it automatically reminded me of my then running around on snow covered crested ridges under a blazing summer sun, among screams of joy and flips, echoes of laughters returning to my ears like good old friends missed for too long…

For a snow baby like me, growing up in amounts of snow-time hard to conceive by many, the sight and the joys experienced then were nearing the sublime.

Out of the combined 2 necessary stops was “Whistler Village”, where I was going to be able to deal a bit more with some steemit.com interactions. Considering the hardly tolerable heat, this had to be interspersed with multiple daily swims in glacier fed lakes, some excellent coffees and high-speed internet, at the LIFT coffeeshop, and, of course, for decent sustenance, very good sushis, at “Sushi Village”.

Now, imagine yourself sitting outside at the bottom of the hills, on a terrace, sipping on your favourite beverage(s), among thousands of people from the world over where hundreds of mountain bikers were gathered for an international week of competitions, many of which were projected day and night onto huge screens for all to see in giant format! As if one couldn't already be satisfied with the live action happening in the half-pipes and quarter-pipes, jumps, rails and tracks themselves!?! Buzzing like ants, we were finding our niches and going about our business in various levels of frenzy yet in a very harmonious fashion.

On the other hand, Pemberton, only a 30 sinuous minutes drive away from the world famous Blackcomb/Whistler Village is another world altogether. Imagine leaving the crowds of thousands to end up in a quaint little village of around 2800 souls at the base of these beautiful mountains, notably Mt. Currie seen down below, where life seems to be simply on another time.

Chill and super relax, there I came across a Thai restaurant to die for in the village of Mount Currie, near the intersection to the Duffy Lake Rd. Then, if you are looking for a great coffee and some seriously decadent baking goods, -that actually reminded me of the quality found in the old Quebec City- I would greatly recommend the “Blackbird Bakery”. Like a little chick having to jump out of the comfort of home, you will not want to leave the place for a long time…

Being able to easily transit between the two locations allowed me to stay in the areas for the following unexpected 5 days and hang out with my friends Caroline and her partner Oli while waiting for the long awaited meeting, in person, of one of my favorite artists of the last 10 years, the sacred bass world electronica singer songwriter Deya Dova, originally from Australia and on tour in the Pacific Northwest of North America for a great part of the summer. I was going to see her three times over the course of the summer, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Here’s an example and my introductory album to her work, available from her own web site http://music.deyadova.com/album/the-jasmani-garden . (Enjoy, while reading maybe?) Mind you, if you feel like listening to what I heard while out in Whistler the first night, simply check out http://www.deyadova.com .

I said unexpected because originally, Deya Dova was going to be performing in 2 days and, from there, I was going to slow make my way over to the Rockies, but it wasn’t going to be the case. During that week, something else that happened to be reeling me in effortlessly was happening: The now world famous “Wanderlust Festival”, a yoga & healthy living festival!

Meanwhile, the village of Whistler was featuring, to my surprise, just as if I had hit the jackpot, a series of free outdoor concerts of world renown performers such as Rising Appalachia, José Gonzalez & Steel Pulse to name but a few.

Super high quality bands for an equally amazing tribe had gathered from the four corners of the world to practice, perfect and share sustainable ways of living mostly around yoga practices. Being there was in itself shared blessings and a treats for all senses. Many tourists were stopping by just to watch the yoga practitioners and the ones practicing the spectacular gravity defying acro-yoga.

On the very last night I was there, after the last show presented by Steel Pulse, and as if the night had not already seen enough, I found myself ambulating along with that night’s “hippy invasion”, to quote someone who was standing by seeing the great majority of the people attending the outside scene flocking to an actual bar where various DJs and dance catalysts including Tasha Blank (TASHABLANK.COM) and, again, Deya Dova and, her equally accomplished husband, Hamilton Barnett were churning the crowds energies. His bio, found here https://balispiritfestival2016.sched.com/speaker/barnett_hamilton.1ura4qw2 , also underlines the seriousness of his and their family’s involvement into the realms of global healing circles as a man, a father and as a human. One more powerful link of their graced family.

After an exhilarating night of sweat pouring ecstatic dance, it was time for me to go for one last night swim, a bit of rest while driving and on the prow for a spot way up in the mountains to pitch my tent, somewhere along the Duffy Lake Rd., away from the crowds, lights and noise, to start on a fresh and fairly short day drive later on that morning…

6 hours later, the tent was packed again and a series of spectacular sceneries of semi-desertic flavours “sparsed" the day’s drive. (I just invented a new English verb, didn’t I!?!)

At the eastern most end of the Duffy Lake Rd., you descend on toward Seton Lake just before arriving in the city of Lillooet.

Driving right through, I continued toward the little agglomeration of Pavilion where one can appreciate the vast walls and rock formation surrounding Marble Canyon.

From here, as the drizzle came on down, I kept on going all the way to the juncture of HWY 97, just a few minutes north of Cache Creek and turned right. Just before arriving at the turning point though, I came across this very beautiful sight, a reflection that came rushing right through my senses and took me over. I abruptly stopped the truck, disembarked and took a few shots. As the lake varies in height and evaporates, the lake leaves behind very colourful residues of salts and the reflection that instructed me to bank right to a stall was perfectly clear and without a ripple.

Continuing, I drove all the way to the north end of the city which allowed me to access a new part of HWY 1 I had never explored yet giving me direct link to a little town named Savona, where I hoped to find some rest in a decent camping… The long high valleys and desert-like austere environment had the air filled with the scent of sage and highly contrasted red-orange stone outcrops formations came out of the valley floor on which tall yellow grasses and the white-silvery greens of sage bushes grow sporadically.

From Savona, a few bleak campings highly exposed to the extreme heat- it was about 30 degree Celcius then- winds and the ever present train tracks didn’t inspire in me even a hint of desire to camp in the area. Coming across a sign at a fork on the road commanded me to turned off south and up toward a mountainous area on my way toward Tunkwa Provincial Lake. I figured a bit higher up the train would most hopefully not be heard and the pounding heat much less burdensome…

Driving uphill another curvy 30 minutes or so, the climate and environment drastically changed. Now, evergreens were ever present. pine trees were surrounding me from each angle! The forest dissipated progressively giving a deeper and wider range of vision and I started coming across a few little mirror-like lakes where very small numbers of pickup trucks were parked here and there, apparently on a daily basis, for the purpose of fishing while some other people were seemingly simply sitting on their plastic chair contemplating the overclouded area. The light was so flat, distance seemed veiled yet somehow there. A very strange feeling altogether otherworldly.

Finally coming across the turn off sign to the park, I proceeded to go examining the campgrounds. I have to admit that, if I had to stay here for the night, I wished I could have had found an obvious, at least, aesthetic reason or something to convince me to do so… The camping was so bleak. At that point, I couldn’t see a reason yet, and, other than being exhausted, I sure hoped for some signs from the sky coming down on me to tell me why on Earth I had ended up there… Meanwhile, on the northwest side of this campground, a few hundred meters away from me were three backhoes working away, digging constantly both in the ground and at my nerves. In moments like this, I often regroup around good foods and pause. It couldn’t hurt and, at that moment, I thought let’s be patient as patience is the mother of all virtues cause I’m about to loose my religion!

I set up my tent. A quick chat with one of the local who had decided to retire away from the heat for the weekend and who knew the area very well told me that I had taken “the long way in”, instead of driving here from Ashcroft, and that I was only 10 minutes away from where he lived Logan Lake, a bit further down south. In retrospect and after deliberation over maps, the time difference didn’t make much of a difference compared to the road I had taken and the scenery alone had definitely been worth the drive.

Dazed from the heat, drive and tiredness, I nevertheless took some pictures during a short stroll around the premises and was already dreaming of sleeping for the night by the time the sun settled. I guess the mosquitoes and the cold convinced me once and for all to hit the hay taking only a matter of seconds before falling asleep.

What seemed like a few seconds later, a full bladder woke me up after a 10 hour sleep. In spite of the cool humidity laden tent, I convinced myself to unzipped the fly of my tent and realized the reason why I had to be here. I was as eager to relief my bladder as I was ecstatic at the sight. A thick fog was covering the pine trees all over the surrounding hills and was slowly lifting while rolling away and was hiding almost the entire lake. It was surreal!

A few minutes later, I had regained my composure and my brain was fired up, the swallows and a myriad of other local songbirds were flying in an out of vision through the thick white layers becoming yellow with the sun starting to shine through the trees and the ghostly suspended vapours.

On the edge of the lake, a mother loon was fastidiously and patiently retrieving minnows from the lake feeding her by now giant new born. A few minutes walk away from there, through the dew-filled grasses and pebbled trail, I was graced with some extra photographic opportunities, a family of ducks floating by a rustic fence at the mouth of a little creek surrounded by sedges, grasses, flowers and a few trees moving in sight as veil evaporated and moved aside.

As per the so often usual, I was alone in the semi-silence, the sleeping souls of my neighbouring campers, including a photographer I had came across the previous evening, weren’t there to witness the sublime of this morning light.

So much beauty, so much bliss, grace and gratitude were walking hand-in-hand pouring out of my heart.

A quick breakfast as the heat of these highly appreciated sun rays came flooding into camp drying everything in sight and off I was, on my way to Golden, B.C., the west gate of the Canadian Rockies where I would spend the last night before reacquainting with Sylvain who had left from Quebec City, only 2 days prior, on his super-marathoner drive across the country to come and meet me in the village of Lake Louise, over 4000 km, almost 2500 miles!

I have never seen the Trans-Canada Highway so packed: From Salmon Arm to Golden, 250 km of road, driving bumper to bumper for hours! Too boot, the heat thick and the tempers were hot… Finally in the mountains, driving up through Rogers Pass, at 1330 meters, was as exhilarating as always and left behind the ponding heat waves for a while.

Arriving in Golden just in time to catch a good dinner at a little healthy coffeeshop, I hoped to find sustenance and reliable internet to check on both Sylvain’s and the Steem fulgurant progress! So, as I walked in, I noticed a young woman working on her computer and asked right away whether the internet connection was fast and reliable. She promptly assured me that it was fine and she told me there was even an electrical plug I could hook up to while being able to use the comfort of a sofa next to her’s.

After inquiring about a good spot to go camping to for the night and, more importantly, about the location of a lake or river where I could wash, the owner of the establishment, Jita of “Jita’s Cafe”, illuminates me about the handmade and too humble little poster hung by the cash machine: A couple of musicians/ music producers were going to be in town overnighting at her place, as per requested and offered by her 10 year old boy whose a major fan, as they are on their way to the famous and infamous Shambhala Music Festival, an annual world renown electronic music festival taking place near Nelson, in the West Kootenays. One of them “Vekked", an apparently shy and humble man from Kitchener Ontario, had apparently just won the first prize as the World’s Best Turntablist!?

I only recently discovered that he is actually a 5-time World DJ Champion! Along his side was going to be DJ “Fresh Kils”, another Canadian producer of high caliber sampling classics and building music from the likes of Led Zeppelin to the Beatles to James Brown to name but a few.

For an extra $10.00 on top of the dinner’s price, I thought just had to go for it and buy a ticket for tonight intimate performance, a “warm-up” to their official show the following day.

So, after ordering a great organic plater of Indian foods, I come and join her. We started chatting and within a matter of minutes discover that we really had to meet: She happened to be telling me that she was just about to quit her job as a heli-hiking guide in the nearby mountains to go to Northern B.C. where she wanted to go to an ashram… On this, I interjected and told her a mouthful of smile “So, you are going to see Thomas!?!” Her jaw dropped and her eyes came rushing toward me another 30 cm closer. Long story short, she knew the girlfriend of the person who had planned to build the ashram in the Nass Valley, the Anuttara Ashram, (http://www.anuttara.org). Many years ago, Thomas had arrived in the city of Terrace where I used to live and after a rather short conversation about who we were had asked me where I thought a good location for an ashram would be. And there she was going to this spiritual retreat to reconvene with her friend while being able to reconnect with herself through the practice of yoga and and meditation. As she was going to be able to see Thomas before me, most hopefully a bit later on that summer, I asked her to pass the salutations shared a very familiar hug and she went on her way never to be see again both of us still easily smiling.

After a quick dinner and internet session, I moseyed over toward the ski hill where I had been directed in order to find a decent lake to swim in and a possible campsite. Finding both I thought I dive in for a wash and major cooling off. “Secret Lake”, like the illusive Haida Gwaii “Secret Cove” where you can catch or gather all the best and most amazing fish or oysters, has a name well guarded and a location even more reluctantly relinquished to any tourist, a.k.a. non-locals. I guess I had friends in high places on that day.

I came back down the hill refreshed after a long awaited swim and ready for a dance or anything that would be coming my way. I was in for whatever synchronicity had set for me.

As the time ticked and tacked toward the beginning of the show, a handful of people had gathered. After we finally hit the magic number of 13, we started the epic presentation of unassuming skills.

Set on a background of one of the wall, where rather psychedelic paintings were taking place, the two artists were equipped to the hilt and ready to leave a tattooed memory in the Columbia Valley's town social consciousness that could hardly be forgotten.

Well, it has been another slice, hasn't it!?! On my next adventure, we are going to the heart of the Rockies and the very best hikes of my entire life, not to mention the breathtaking scenery... ;) I hope you all have greatly enjoyed the journey, please feel free to send me comments or any questions in regards to this piece, or any other ones I've shared with you so far. It will be a pleasure, as always to answer them and share some more with you.

(Below, here's some kudos to the painter who has done the psychedelic background paintings for the show, at Jita's Cafe.)