I Flirt with a Lion

9 March 2017 – And with a lighthouse. And a whole lot of mossy trees. And clouds who are too busy flirting with mountain-tops to notice me.

And with a dragon.

Who also doesn’t notice me, perhaps because he is too busy chin-chinning with the lion.

Aren’t I the coy one? All will be revealed. Soon.

I’m in Stanley Park — the 405-hectare downtown park that Vancouverites rightly adore & tourists rightly visit in droves.

Though the droves have not yet arrived, this damp & still-early morning. My only fellow passenger, when the bus reaches its Stanley Park terminus, is a young woman bearing a carefully-swaddled kayak paddle. She strides off, clearly knowing where to go.

Which is one up on me, since I have no idea where I am or where, precisely, to go. But I don’t care, since … how can I lose? A random walk anywhere will be just fine.

For example, down to this suitably massive chunk of tree, honouring the BC lumber industry.

Lumbermen’s Arch, it is called, and it is the latest (1952) focal point in a clearing that has been a meeting place since the West Coast Salish people first began using it thousands of years ago.

I continue downhill on pathways that remind me, absolutely unreasonably, of bits of High Park in Toronto. Perhaps it’s the downward slope, the shrubbery, and the water ahead. Except Grenadier Pond (High Park) does not also offer a suspension bridge!

Even peek-a-boo, I’m in love with the bridge.

Built in 1938, officially named First Narrows Bridge, but pretty well always called Lions Gate Bridge. No, I don’t know why, but it’s more appealing to flirt with a lion than with a first-narrow …

I am diverted by the sound of yet another small plane droning its way overhead. Some have been helicopters, some seaplanes; I tilt my head to this seaplane  as it climbs above Burrard Inlet, silhouetted against the clouds draped around (maybe) Grouse Mountain.

Don’t hold me to that Grouse Mountain ID, I don’t really know, Grouse may be a bit farther to the east. Well, anyway, part of a line of very handsome cloud-draped mountains.

There’s a slipway down onto the beach and I take it. Instant flash-back: I’m visualizing an entry-point I used to take onto the beach at St. Peter Port in Guernsey, during a visit several years ago. The resemblance is probably slight, but …

but Guernsey is on my mind. (Spoiler alert.) I’ll be there again in May! As you will see.

I head east, but look back west, now able to see pretty well the full length of Lions Gate Bridge. Stretched gracefully across the Narrows, as sinuous as any cat inviting your admiration. (Oh, I’m getting silly.)

Passing ducks are nowhere near as impressed as I am.

Then I look east, and walk on east — and turn my attention to a dragon.

Effigy of. The 1960 replica of the figurehead of the SS Empress of Japan, which — says the plaque — from 1891 to 1922 carried Vancouver’s commerce to the orient.

Now you know what I was blithering about at the start of this post. Here is the dragon, and there, tucked neatly under his chin, is the lion.

But I am diverted once more! Good-bye lion, good-bye dragon; I have a lighthouse to track. Down there on a point, with (I think) North Vancouver & Mount Seymour in the background.

It looks like the beach will soon-ish collide with the seawall; I spy some steep steps, and climb to the adjacent path. I would here love to insert some informed comment about the state of the tide … but that wouldn’t fool you for a minute, would it? I have no idea.

On the path now, still heading east, and I dodge up-slope a bit, to indulge yet another of my BC obsessions: moss on huge tree trunks. But look, this time it’s like a quadruple-hit in Scrabble: big old fir trees AND moss AND the ocean AND a lighthouse.

By now the visitor droves are beginning to arrive.

We dodge each other politely on a narrowed section of path just west of the lighthouse. I wait, camera at the ready, for one group to pass, meanwhile admiring the ability of a young mother to calm her little boy, who is  hiccuping with distress. “Darling,” she says, “I promise, we will come back tomorrow. And mummy will have a surprise for you. Yes, really!”

A seagull is also listening in. He doesn’t care.

Seagull & I, we are at the Brockton Point Lighthouse, which guided ships in and out of Coal Harbour 1890-2005, when newer technologies made it superfluous. But still handsome. Still deserving our respect. One of our icons.

Speaking of icons!

I salute a couple of Canada Geese before I turn back west.

Then I’m onto the bus, back across town to the Mount Pleasant neighbourhood where I’m staying, and off the bus in time to fall into the Main St. outlet of Cartem Donuterie. This mini-chain is a legend, says local friend Louise, and who am I to argue with insider info?

Especially when it includes a hazelnut mocha doughnut.

 

 

Wet City: The Sequel

20 February 2017 – The “merde il pleut” attitude (see previous post) …

Main St. at East 11th Av

… is not shared by all.

 

 

Wet City

18 February 2017 – “Wet City.” That’s a clue. Make a guess.

Oh, never mind. The answer is: Vancouver, B.C.

I’m back in Vancouver, and, currently at least, this art gallery in the Mount Pleasant neighbourhood has exactly the right name.

art gallery, Main St. nr East 6th

Moments later, in a near-by alley, I see some hot art.

alley s. of East Broadway at Quebec

Though perhaps not exactly what the gallery owners had in mind.

It’s a damp, drizzly sort of Saturday, the moisture so soft & diffuse I mostly don’t notice it & never put up the hood on my jacket. A landscape, & seascape, of gauzey grey.

But… so mild.

Cambie & West Broadway

See? Bare legs. And my jacket is half-open. (I mention all this diffidently. A pet peeve among eastern Canadians is the flood of photos this time of year from BC-coast friends, flaunting their crocuses & snowdrops & lattes out on a café patio.)

On the other hand, pooches must be pampered, even in mild weather.

down near False Creek

I this this warning unnecessary — at least, today. Surely the attraction today would be unguarded expensive umbrellas!

nr Columbia & Broadway

So far, I’ve been looping around East & West Broadway Ave. Now I head on north to the water, to False Creek. Lots of people out & about — with dogs, with kiddies, with their FitBits & serious running gear, with snazzy bicycles — drawn to the parks & the Greenwall (seawall) that define south-east False Creek.

People out on the water as well. Dragon boats skimming in all directions. From ‘way out there somewhere, I can hear a cox barking at his crew, “Just think about what you’re doing!” But that’s the cox’s job, is it not? To bark?

And here’s another dragon boat, just about to set out from Spyglass Place Dock, by the Cambie Bridge. Though that’s not why I’ve stopped. I’ve stopped to enjoy the art.

Spyglass Place Dock, False Creek

Emily Gray is the artist, and if you click, you’ll get an aerial view of this mural.

I like the details all along the edge, including this fat little bumble bee.

detail, mural at Spyglass Place Dock

I walk on east a bit along False Creek, into Hinge Park, admire yet more art. This time on wooden posts out in the water.

just off Hinge Park, looking east along False Creek

But, this time, I can’t tell you the artist. Or anything else about it. I just like it, I like it in combination with the tall towers & the spherical World of Science to the east. I’d like it with the mountains as well — if they were on offer. Which they aren’t.

Because, even though we’re having a moment of watery sunshine, the atmospheric theme du jour is, pervasively, droplets of rain.

pedestrian walkway in Hinge Park

When I reach Olympic Village, I make another stop. This one you can guess…

Of course. For a latte. (Some rituals travel so easily!) Then I walk on east & a bit south, angling to Main Street and my temporary home just beyond.

With a passing glance, on Main near East Broadway, at an editorial comment on life in Wet City.

shop window, Main nr East Broadway

Should I go back & buy it?

 

 

  • WALKING… & SEEING

    "Traveller, there is no path. Paths are made by walking" -- Antonio Machado (1875-1939)

    "The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes" -- Marcel Proust (1871-1922)

    "A city is a language, a repository of possibilities, and walking is the act of speaking that language, of selecting from those possibilities" -- Rebecca Solnit, "Wanderlust: A History of Walking"

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