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My favorite radio station, CKUA, has a campaign to adopt an album or a song with funds going to support capital projects. We've physically gifted a number of albums/78s in the past and made a major donation this spring to the endowment fund, so IF I had the money, here's my three favorite albums.

Simon and Garfunkel's Sounds of Silence. Fall 1966 grade 7 music. Mrs. Kirkpatrick said we were going to listen to music and then "do projects". I don't remember the projects but I still remember the power of "hello darkness my old friend". Until then, I'd never really thought about music-we had no record player and the radio was perpetually tuned to talk. After a brief flirtation with top 40 pop, I came firmly back to folk and roots.

Chris de Burgh's Spanish Train Spring 1980 sitting around a friend's house talking about the new technology (CDs) and listening to great music you didn't find on the local station. Shortly after, we discovered the CKUA transmitter and the rest is history. We bought our friend's five year old state of the art stereo system so he could upgrade. Which we still have, including turntable and a lifetime supply of needles.

Loreena Mckennitt's All Soul's Night from The Visit. Summer 1991. For three summers we sublet a house in Victoria while Cal attended grad school. We treated ourselves to Friday out at the little fish and chips place down the street. Like all neighborhood pubs, we got to know the owners and the staff as we introduced our children to the joys of live music. Between sets the owner put on her favorite CDs. My daughter used All Soul's Night for her grade three public speaking poem while her older brother used Tom Waits I Don't Want to Grow Up. And our three year old decided to be Bart (as in Simpson) for the summer.

And if I had to pick one song that send shivers through me, it would be the version of Lament for a Warrior that Andy Donnelly first played on 19 April 2002, two days after four Edmonton soldiers were killed in Afghanistan.  And for a similar reason, Redgum's I was only 19 which I first heard on a bus between Alice Springs and Uluru in 2009.

Iceland 2012

Was I glad we spent almost four weeks in Iceland?  Absolutely.  Would I go back sometime?  In a heartbeat.

We started our adventures in 1976 by moving from Calgary to a small town in Northern Alberta “for a year or so”.  For the next thirty years we explored anywhere our car/truck/van could take us. The next step was to venture out of country so in 2009 it was three months in Australia and New Zealand.  2011 found us hiking and exploring the wilds of northern Scotland.  Next on the list was Iceland – puffins, volcanoes, waterfalls and making our way in a country whose first language was not English.  Where next?  So many places, so little time.

 

We spent a little over three weeks in Iceland.  We arrived on their Independence Day then left for a week hiking from Landmannalaugar to Skogar – including past Eyjafjallajökull and Fimmvörðuháls, sites of the volcanic eruptions in 2010.  A few day long adventures (yes we saw puffins) and then a small 4 by 4 bus tour around Iceland and through the central highlands.  In a country of about 300,000 people who call each other by their first names it seems that everybody knows each other and has had an experience with volcanoes.  It’s that small community feel that has kept us living in our small town in Northern Alberta.

 

Highlights of the trip included surviving day six of the hike – 14 km of a 900 meter elevation gain on lava fields, ash and snow, including lunch on the fissure where the eruption happened a little over two years before.  A fantastic cruise around the Westman Islands to see the newest island and flocks of nesting sea birds capped off by the captain demonstrating the echo qualities of a cave by playing saxophone.  Snorkelling along the Trans Atlantic Rift.  Riding an Icelandic pony on the same peninsula with the polar bear (every year or so, a polar bear arrives from Greenland looking for food and this year he/she arrived the day we were also there!)  Learning Icelandic politics from our guide, whose sister was the front runner for deposing the present President.  Staying in the most marvelous guesthouse in downtown Reyjkavik.  Icelandic hot dogs, puffin, whale, lamb, reindeer, fish, skyr.  And a bit of retail therapy in the shops of Reyjkavik and Akyreyi.

 

If you are on Facebook,  check my Iceland 2012 album for some pictures and comments.

More than a year later, my memory of day six of our hike is still vivid.  Confession time.  I have no depth perception and have discovered I'm not good with heights.  What this means is that going up is not a problem - you are looking at the ground at eye level and one leg is planted firmly while you move the other one.  Going down brings out the worst in me - have you ever noticed that to go down, you destabilize one leg while the other one is airborne and then hope that it will find a stable footing?  And you have to look at how far down it is when you fall....  If I can't avoid it, my approach to going down is to go sideways and/or slide down on my behind and definitely VERRRRRRY slowly.

So, we had been hiking with a group for five days with Bryn, our guide and miracle worker.  I managed to avoid steep cliffs and down hills and had a thoroughly lovely time.  Day six, our group was smaller and it was described as a significant elevation gain (uphill is good, right?).  Actually, it was serious up and down all day on loose volcanic rock/snow/narrow ridges.  There really were no paths - this is where the volcano had erupted a year before and changed the landscape. After our morning break, we started the first big downhill, and I mentioned to Bryn that I had no depth perception, and was not good with heights, but that I'd be fine and just going very slowly.  He looked at me with disgust (was my thought) and said, that no, I would hike with him and he would make sure I was ok.  On the down hills, he would plant himself securely, reach up and hold my hand as I climbed down - I was NOT to be doing any sliding on the butt on his tour.  We crossed a couple of narrow ridges step by step.  He slowed his pace over the snow drifts so I was walking in his steps.  It WAS a hard day and I was the least fit, but I found I was thoroughly enjoying the fact that I was doing it.  

We stopped for breath with about six km to go - directly across was where we were staying for the night, but we needed to go down and up and down again to where our food and sleeping gear was at the old hut.  Next confession, I didn't see the up and the down, and thought the lower hut was where we were going and had no idea of the distance.  When Bryn looked at me and said "You're really tired, aren't you?", I agreed, but reassured him I could make it.  His nod and "OK" felt like the gold star you get for good work in elementary school.  At that point, I was not going to disappoint.  Arriving at Fimmvörðuháls hut was worth every second of that exceedingly long day.  Would I do this again?  Hmmm, not sure.  Would I do something equally challenging?  Absolutely.  One step at a time.  And I now have a set of hiking poles for that extra security when Bryn is not around.

The next day (that I had been worrying about because the description was how many hundred meter elevation loss it was) was a piece of cake.

Oh, to put this in perspective, on Johnsmas (late June holiday), Icelanders park at Skogafoss and hike or run the last two days backwards to Thorsmerk in one day to party.  We met the first runners mid morning of our first day.

The two new volcanoes.  Yes we walked along this ridge.

Final (almost) steps.  Up to the top of the snow, down, then up to the hut for the night.

View from the hut.  Down to the ocean.

On our way the next morning.  Trust me, this is a steep downhill.

It is absolutely bizarre to hike for seven days and then finish
by walking down a set of steps with a railing
to this parking lot/viewpoint!

A wee quilty pleasure

It's been mostly fixing things for kids the last couple of weeks. Creating a huge tshirt quilt to use up 30 or so tshirts and a couple of pairs of jeans way past wearable. Then putting a well loved afghan back together. I learned how to mend knitted holes for that project. And, still in the works, repairing a vintage backpack.

It was fun to play with some scraps and create this little quilt just because. Ok, it is going to cover a lovely wooden table in the living room that badly needs refinishing not just covering.

The front is a block from Elizabeth Hartman that I loved the first time I saw it. As I was sewing the binding on tonight, I realize that I had actually used left over pieces from the tshirt quilt! Clearly it's time to clean up and put away before the next project.

Visiting Haida Gwaii 2013

Souvenirs of our trip - hey, I'm a prairie girl and am very easy to entertain
 when near a beach.

We’ve just returned from Haida Gwaii – a shorter closer to home vacation this year as we plan for our year of travel in 2014.  We first planned to visit these islands off the BC mainland 27 years ago.  An impromptu driving holiday with two children under 4 and a large dog stopped at a rainy and misty Prince Rupert when we realized that

• It was a seven hour ferry trip that needed to be booked ahead of time
• In the summer you need to book accommodation, or be prepared to camp

This time, we planned ahead.  BC ferries had a package that included the booked ferry for us and our vehicle as well as 4 nights accommodation at Haida House (and accommodation in Prince Rupert before and after the ferry).  We had a fantastic time, made even more memorable because the weather was dry, warm and sunny.  The manager at Haida House helped us plan a day to Skedans as well as pointing us in the right direction for a couple of days of hiking and exploring.  To be honest, as a Northern Alberta prairie girl, put me near an ocean and I’m pretty easy to entertain!

The ferry from Prince Rupert to Skidegate was comfortable and the time passed very quickly.  We started out in thick misty fog, which was great for some atmospheric pictures, then the sun broke out and we didn’t see fog again until returning back to the mainland.  While waiting for the ferry, we met a couple from Australia who were also taking the same package trip as we were.  It turns out that they had just visited Iceland and were planning to travel to Scotland AND Rob was an even more passionate birder than Cal.  We shared stories and suggestions for great books to read.

Dock at Prince Rupert looking atmospheric

And the sun arrives and stays with us for the next five days

Hiking to the Pesuta wreck was a great way to spend the day – first half of the hike was through forest and then along the beach.  Amazing how you can feel so isolated, even though you know that you are only a few feet away from the river (and your hotel is on the other side).  We watched fish jumping and even skipping along the water.  There were groups of fishermen catching salmon and making Cal wish he had thought to bring his fishing gear.  I had a lovely time playing in the water and taking quilty pictures.  That night we realized that the Tlell river was tidal (ok, I’m a prairie girl, give me a bit of a break).  We watched as it changed from flowing south (away from the ocean) to flowing north (toward the ocean) with a few minutes of it flowing both ways.  Here’s a link to the hike. Pesuta Shipwreck Hike

The sunshine on the wreck just made fantastic pictures - perhaps an idea for a quilt?

everything is so green and lush.
Lots of rain (less than Prince Rupert, mind you)
 and every tree that falls becomes a nurse tree for others.

Playing with the water and the waves and practicing pictures with the new camera.

Loved the mossy/lichen communities

Playing with waves and water (hey, I'm a prairie girl)

Just as we came out onto the beach.  Trust me, there's an interesting fishing cabin in the trees.

I wasn't supposed to take pictures, but I couldn't resist.
Heavily beaded, I can't begin to imagine how many hours work.

Our hotel, Haida House, was newly renovated this year and used to be a bear hunting lodge.  Yes there are bear and there are also 20,000 deer that are beginning to make a nuisance of themselves.  Off islanders can get a license to shoot 14 deer a season.  It's a partnership between a big resort chain and the Haida nation.  Some pretty impressive art was scattered through out the building, all of it for sale.

Totem pole by Reg Davidson

I was fascinated by the way the wood grain is integral to the design.
 Traditionally, poles were not painted.  Blame Bill Reid for making changes.

Bentwood box, also by Reg Davidson.
Used as a drum (no lid on it)

 

And surprise, when you move it away from the wall,
the inside is also painted.

Non aboriginal artist from Tlell.
 This picture doesn't do justice.
 It was hanging in a narrow dark hall.
 Canvas has been painted, then cut, folded and sewn.
Totally incredible. Sewn art

Haida House logo.  Created by a 19 year old student.
Drop of water with a salmon eye.

Saturday, we got up early to head to Queen Charlotte City to meet with James from Haida Style.  I had no idea what we were doing or where we were going (hey, I’m a prairie girl and I was cool with the idea that we were going on a boat ride on the ocean).  Turns out, James is one of the members of the Haida council and involved in much of what is happening in Haida Gwaii.  He was also an incredible teacher about anything and everything.  My biggest problem is that he would be talking about something, and I would want to ask a question but he would have moved on to something else even more interesting.  His assistant, Stas (sorry if I have spelled it incorrectly, it was the short form of his Haida name) was a young very quiet man who was equally fascinating.  He piloted the boat for the over one hour trip there and back and it turns out his career plan when he finishes grade 12 next year is to get his license to pilot the big freighters that ply the waters along the coast.  Oh yes, his father will be the next hereditary chief of Skedans and his brothers were the main carvers of the Legacy Pole Gwaii Haanas Legacy Pole and his grandmother was in the last canoe to leave Skedans in 1906.  To be guided through this once thriving community by someone who learned the stories from those who have lived there was a privilege.  As we walked, he and James would consult each other about memories to make sure they were telling the stories of the poles correctly. And the fresh cooked salmon on the beach was excellent.

Setting off from Queen Charlotte City.  No, it wasn't cold,
Cal didn't want to burn his head anymore!!

on our way to Skedans, we pass an island of Sea Lions.
First the ladies jumped into the water.  Then the younger males started making a lot of noise.
Then the big male sat up and took charge. With my camera on a small boat with maximum zoom,
 you can get some great pictures.  If you take dozens to allow for the boat and the waves...

some more quilty patterns

way cool effects.  Thank you sunshine.

beach at Skedans

even driftwood looks cool

our zodiac waiting for us.

mortuary poles (you can tell from the rectangular holes at the top
where a bentwood box would have been situated)

  

this huge tree had fallen since James had last been here.
  I get the term Widowmakers now.

post card photo of Old Masset in 1881.  Skedans would have looked similar.

James (front) and Stas

I would have never know that this was a totem pole "returning to mother earth".
 Stas could point all the amimals out and knew who it belonged to.

yes, another fallen totem pole

environmentally sensitive.  Note the wind turbine at the top of the tree,
the satellite panels part way down and the solar panels on the top
 of the cabin where the Watchers stay all summer.

The chief's house.  Six beam.  Abandoned in 1906 (at least for full time living)
  James and Stas both remember coming back here to stay in the summers.
 Reminded us of Iceland - in that ancestors are still very much
 remembered and you know about the buildings

Answering the question about how do you get the boat
 out in the middle of the water - kayak.

The southern islands are very mountainous.
Haida Gwaii is on the boundary of two plates which are pushing together.

Cormorants.  Getting better at taking long distance maximum zoom pictures

Lunch on the beach.  It's a tough life.

Our last day, we drove up to the North of the island.  North Beach, Tow Hill, Masset, Old Masset.  Some walking, some climbing, some more time on a beach.  Old Masset was the First Nations community and we were warned that there was a lot of poverty there.  Interesting, because coming from Northern Alberta where we have close contact with first nations communities, or impression was more how thriving the community was.  Yes there were buildings that were abandoned and in poor repair, but also there were houses that people were clearly proud of.  James had explained to us how the Haida nation are working on a process where land can be individually owned (so you can then be eligible for mortgages and have a feeling that it belongs to you).  Masset also is home to a number of new totem poles.

Sarah's Haida Arts, Old Masset.
Door was carved by Reg Davidson for his father and step mother (Sarah)
 in 1975.

Assorted interesting finds on North Beach

I have no idea what these are, but they were very much alive with
arms reaching out from the shell.

North beach from the top of Tow Hill.  Fairly easy climb.
Other than the fact that there were steps build by "fit young, long legged men"
 which meant that natural walking wasn't happening.

Our final stop was to walk into the site of the Golden Spruce.  We have the book by John Vaillant and I’d recommend it to anyone. 

On our way from Prince Rupert, listening to CBC Vancouver as the only radio available, we heard about the first winter storm of the season which closed down the ferries for two days.  And the first snow in Fort Nelson.  Thanks Haida Gwaii for a great holiday.  

The clouds rolling in as we leave on the ferry.

Inn on the Harbour Prince Rupert
Carpet and wall coverings.  Must have been designed by a quilter!

And finally, just around the corner from our hotel in Prince George...

Revolving doors used by Al Capone and others