Griffin and I drove out to French beach the other morning...
Long before you even get to the seashore, you can hear the crashing of the surf...
Along the tree lined tunnel...
down the sea grass lined path...
And there it is...the beach.
With not a soul in sight...
...except Griffin who's miles ahead of me...
I wanted to find out more about why this beach is called French beach and found out something extraordinary...James French was an explorer, naturalist, adventure seeker who took 2 years to travel from his home in New Brunswick (on the east coast) in the 1880's and after paddling around Vancouver Island found this place.
Not an easy task I assure you with the wild coastal weather.
No fancy GPS or Gortex in those days.
Probably hostile territory as well.
And all of this after falling through a crevasse in the Northwest Territories and losing all of the toes on one foot and the heel of the other foot to frostbite!
His family continued to live here until the mid '70's at which time they donated the land to the province for parkland...it now has a campground and lovely picnic sites.
Of course the beach is the star of the show...
Surfing dogs love it here!
Logs that escaped from booms...
natures anchors made with rock and seaweed...
bits of the giant moon snail shells...
beautiful rocks with every step that have a hard time resisting coming home with you...
gifts of feathers left for curious noses...
Then we ventured up into the woods...watch out though!
About 4 years ago we had the most violent windstorm in a century which ripped through these parts.
Loads of trees came down and not just snapped off but pulled straight up roots and all by the power of the wind...evidence of this is still everywhere in these parts...
People have been killed from standing by the root ball when the upper part of the tree is cut off.
The shear weight of the earth and roots falls back to the ground burying the bystander.
Lots of strange little things in the deep woods...
The tourists have gone home now that the stormy weather is back and once again the locals return to favorite, deserted places.
3 comments:
you must have known i needed to visit this place. imagine! all that beach to yourself. so many times when i look at photos from others and listen to their words, they never squat down and show me the little things i yearn to know about. i found this entirely satisfying.
First, had I the means, your Ivy would be on her way to my house. What a charming small elephant she is, a work of art indeed. Your French Beach post carried me to Calif. versions of stormy, empty beaches visited as a child. It seems worlds away from here, and yet familiar. Not so the giant moon snail shell and other "strange little things." Magic and mystery, aftermaths of violent weather and the menacing root systems...it feels, it looks, like the makings of folklore. My thanks.
Once again, you have taught me something new about a favourite place. So interesting.
And that first picture? Absolutely beautiful!!! I love the soft glowy green.
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