Ramble on....

Yesterday was raw and damp and grey and cold...

The perfect day for a ramble in the countryside, collecting a bit of the wayside, to bring home
for decorating the porch.

Griffin and I ventured up  Island to visit with Irma and Griff's brother Frank.
Fueled by lunch and chocolate torte at the Rock Cod Cafe,

Irma wanted to show me another gem of a place she discovered while

out wandering. She's been a bit stir crazy since she broke her arm after it

got in the way of her horse Sophie's hoof.

Our destination was the original homestead of Swallowfield Farm.

 There was once a lovely old house here on a 300 acre farm.

Apparently famous for the potatoes grown there.

So down the long road now abandoned and closed off to vehicles

and used by ramblers such as ourselves...
The lads on the prowl...

The house sat on a little hill and looked down the valley towards 

the estuary and the ocean beyond that...

Just to the right, the view includes the mill.

Looking quite ominous, but at least it's not pumping out the toxic dioxins it used to.

Now imagine... back in the day when, as quoted from the book 'Memories of the Chemainus Valley',

"Sweeping meadow lands alternate, in season, with fields of oats and potatoes, 

Jersey cows graze knee deep in clover and alfalfa, pheasants and duck

"put up" anywhere, for it's probably the richest game preserve

on Vancouver Island. The Chemainus River winds through the 

meadowland to the sea, and on a ridge in it's midst rises

Mrs Hutchinson's most artistic and spacious residence,

full of works of art and books."

Sigh....

We wandered amongst the bright rose hips which speckled across the landscape

in little clouds of scarlet...

As we wandered along on high ground, we spotted something in the bush...
Far from any water there it was...

A boat!
It even had paddles and a life jacket underneath.
It was trying to be in disguise with branches and wood placed carefully to hide it.
So we left it in peace to pretend it should live up on the hill.
Down the old road we went, through the old farm fields,
past a beautiful reclining Garry oak..

Evidence of the containing of livestock of long ago...

...to the banks of the meandering river.
We had kayaked down here many years ago, so seeing the view from
land was quite different.
We talked about coming back in the spring for a picnic along this pretty stretch...

Bald eagles were still hanging around for the last bits of salmon who'd spawned
upriver just a month or so ago...

The Native Indians come here to duck hunt and we found a strange 'decoy'
or whatever it was pegged on a stick by the water...

After collecting rose hips, birds nests, privet branches and ivy, it was time
to head back to the van.
One last stop along the road though...

The old E & N railway line.
Not in much use these days, although there is talk of commuter rails, which
would be LONG overdue.
We took a stroll down to the river crossing.

 Frank, curious of the one hunched on the ground...

All in all a great wander...just what the doctor ordered.

Adieu...

This river that we walk along is ancient and it has been here long before any of us.

It's floods and droughts, the salmon who've lived and died in her swirls and riffles,

the bear and cougar who roam along her banks, are all part of her story.

But I have only known this river for a minute.

It's a place where our dogs love to run...

The fields above her shores are a place I dream of living...

...a place where farmers used to keep their cattle...

This land has been bought and sold and now serves us as a wide open and lovely park...

During these crisp autumn nights and sun kissed shortened days, 

we walk through the maples shedding their summer dress.

...and peak into the beginning of the dying days before winter falls upon us...

The salmon have begun to swim upstream and with it the fly fishermen try their hand

at catching and releasing...

I am mesmerized by the sound of the reel and the quiet flash of the line...

These will be some of my last days of the year down here.

Although it is one of the most beautiful places to walk, the salmon will slowly start to

die after spawning and leave their rotting carcases on the beach.

This is something that some dogs (like mine and Regina's) can't resist and so

we stay on other paths where this can be avoided.

For now, for today, we soak in the beauty and the quiet that is

The River.

A place in the sun...

Summer seems to be slipping by and almost everywhere, I read and hear, that it's been a slow start.

A wet and cool one for us here on the Island.

But oh! When the sun and heat do come out of hiding...it's glorious!

Not far from home, a secret place awaits us on days like this...

The turn off the main road sends thrills through Griffins furry bulk...

The river!

His favorite place in the whole wide world!

Probably one of mine as well.

Down through the woods, along the meadow path...

...the bracken fern and salmon berry closing in on us...

...and then we come to the bend in the river...

we sit facing the cliff face, basking in the warmth

of a perfectly lazy summer Sunday...

Norene and Bill have brought their grand kids from the other coast of the country, the east coast, to come

and play for a month on the west coast...

I've brought my nieces and nephews, and as kids do, they all dove into an instant friendship

with nature and play as their common connection...

sticks and stones...

hide and seek...

wait for me!...

visit the big tree...

What is it about kids and water?

The primal connection to where they came from?

The draw to discover what lies beneath?

...just a beautiful sunny day is all.

(p.s...no, not a bear...just Griff waiting for a stick!)