Cape Race Lighthouse

Part of our foray down the coast last weekend was a trip to Cape Race Lighthouse. John and I ventured out here once before, about a month ago, and it was so stormy and miserable that you couldn’t see anything. This was a much more pleasant excursion.

Assuming you have driven all the way to Portugal Cove South, you might think that you’re really very close. That’s not quite so, I’m afraid. You must start down a fairly narrow dirt road (that, as of this year, has been freshly graded and is in remarkably good shape, complete with new bridges) and drive on. And on. And on. And up. And down. There is one particularly alarming valley, but it’s definitely worth getting down into (go down in first gear, but take a bit of a run at it coming back up).

Brain Rock

This beach is called “Drook Beach” and lies in a gorgeous valley.

It’s a very fine cobblestone beach; not quite sand, but with tiny pebbles that make barefootedness a pleasure at first and an ache in short order (they look like sand, but are quite hard).

Drook Beach

As you head out toward the lighthouse, you’ll pass the starting point for the Mistaken Point Fossil Tours (more on that in a future entry – I’m still editing the photos).

Note: You need to book a tour to go out there. It’s an ecological preserve like none other and they are being quite careful about who goes in and what they do there. The tours are free, the guides are informative and friendly and frankly, the site itself is utterly worth seeing and made much richer by having the guides there to point out things you could easily overlook.

We went out to Cape Race for lunch before the fossil tour. Nothing was open at the lighthouse, but it made a dandy spot for a picnic.

And what does a goofy group of people on the tip of the Avalon Peninsula do?

Lighthouse pyramid!

On bottom: Evan Edinger, John Taylor-Hood, Garnet Edinger
Next row up: Jasper Edinger, Katherine Taylor-Hood
On top: Kieran Edinger

Filed under: D7000, Newfoundland & Labrador, photography, photos, Travel ]]> http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/27/be-a-beacon-cape-race/feed/ 0 VickyTH Cape Race Lighthouse Brain Rock Drook Beach Lighthouse Pyramid! http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/26/battery-resident/ http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/26/battery-resident/#comments Sun, 27 May 2012 01:18:28 +0000 VickyTH http://seastrandsstudio.com/?p=2704 ]]>

I’m up to my ears in meetings today and haven’t much time to write, but I thought you might like to meet a gull that we spotted, nesting on the rocks below the Blue Moon Pottery Studio in The Battery, St. John’s, Newfoundland.

On guard

More tomorrow, I promise!

Filed under: birds, D7000, photo, photography ]]> http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/26/battery-resident/feed/ 0 VickyTH Battery Resident http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/25/visiting-the-quidi-vidi-village-plantation/ http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/25/visiting-the-quidi-vidi-village-plantation/#comments Sat, 26 May 2012 00:20:23 +0000 VickyTH http://seastrandsstudio.com/?p=2701 ]]>

The second floor view

It’s the weekend of the Craft Council AGM and that means a Friday of Studio Tours as well as a sneak peek inside the Quidi Vidi Village Plantation. I’ve written about it before (before its name was changed from The Tucker Premises to the QVV Plantation) but it’s nearing the opening date now, the tenants have been selected and it’s all getting very exciting.

I took a few photos and am posting them here for those who are curious as to what the building looks like on the inside.

Jessica Butler, jeweller extraordinaire and one of the tenants.

The space was designed by architect Philip Pratt and is a marvelous blend of old and new. The beams vaulting the ceiling were left outside to weather naturally.

The bottom floor has a kitchenette, office space, and other public spaces.Outside there are picnic tables and benches along the wharf.

Lower floor, looking out into the Quidi Vidi Gut (and Village)

It has an elevator and a staircase both, to take you upstairs to the actual studio spaces.

The grand staircase

The units are small, but efficient and each contains a sink, cupboard, ethernet connection, 220amp service and an openable window. They’re all individually lockable as well.

While they look a little boxy now, once folks get craft equipment and product into them, I expect that they will perk right up and be truly fascinating microcosms of creativity.

Some have partitions between units, allowing two users to open space between them and share working accommodations.

It’s a joint venture between the City of St. John’s, the Province of Newfoundland & Labrador, the Anna Templeton Centre and the Craft Council of Newfoundland and Labrador. It is one of the most exciting things to happen on a grand scale for craft in this province and we’re thrilled beyond measure that it has come to fruition.

I can’t wait to drop back again and see it replete in all its creative splendour.

Jasper chose caramel

On the way back from our weekend trip, of which I have not yet relayed all the marvelous adventures, we stopped at the Riverside Restaurant in Cape Broyle for supper. Jasper order and devoured mussels and Katherine, after some initial disgust, tried one and fell in love. She is now planning some major mussel feasting during our summer sojourn on Exploits Islands (Jasper and Jean are in on this scheme as well). The rest of us had clubhouse sandwiches because we have learned that even a poorly made clubhouse sandwich (which these definitively were not – they were excellent) is a good bet on a road trip.

Katherine worked with strawberry

I think the best part of the very good meal might actually have been the ice cream sundaes. As you can see, a weekend without ice cream brings out the silliness in folks.

John sized up chocolate

(I had caramel too, but I also had the camera. )

.

Filed under: apropos of nothing, D7000, family, food, Life, Newfoundland & Labrador, photography, photos, Travel ]]> http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/24/the-ice-cream-crazies/feed/ 1 VickyTH Jasper Katherine John http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/24/boo/ http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/24/boo/#comments Thu, 24 May 2012 14:40:58 +0000 VickyTH http://seastrandsstudio.com/?p=2692 ]]> Two of the things that I most love about driving down through the southern-most tip of the Avalon Peninsula, are the vast and seemingly endless stretches of untrammelled openness and the abundance of wildlife that inhabits these tundras.

A lot of what you see between Cape Race and Cape Pine looks like this:

Vast expanse of what appears to be nothing.

I never cease to be astounded by just how big treeless land can be. It makes you suddenly feel vulnerable and naked. Added to this sudden feeling of conspicuousness is the realization that everything that lives there is much better adapted to travelling the terrain, blending in and surviving than the humanoid visitor. Looking at that photo, you see land and more land and sky and a small pond. In reality, the land is teaming with birds, the pond is probably full of fish (surprising how many fish-laden ponds there are in these spots) and there are more plant varieties that a quick glance would indicate.

There are also these:

Sneaking up on a caribou

I spotted this one munching on the side of the road. As we pulled over, he moved inland a bit and I was able to crawl up behind some rocks and get a better view. He noticed me after the first shutter click. I say “he”, but since females also grow antlers and I’m no caribou expert, it could just as easily be a she. My guess is male mainly because of the relative size of this beast; others I’ve noticed in the past have been considerably smaller. Then again, it could just as easily be a gravid female. Anyone out there care to posit a guess?

Spotted!

He watched me for a while, but didn’t seem too worried.

Caribou watching you

Then after I shifted too close for comfort, he headed for the high ground.

Leaving now

I really like the picture below, as you can clearly see how well they can blend in at will. If he lay down behind a rock, he’d be pretty hard to spot.

Camouflage

Dawn. One of my favourite parts of camping is waking up before the sun rises and watching it creep up over the horizon. It’s much easier to do this when you go to bed at a reasonable hour and when you have Kinderclocks, which wake you up at 5am.

Feeling the need to get out-of-town for the long weekend and being possessed of a rare forecast for said weekend that did not contain precipitation, either liquid or solid, John and I teamed up with the Edinger Family for a rollicking good time on the southern shore.

We skedoodled on Saturday morning and headed down the highway for Chance Cove Provincial Park. Once a tiny community of about 50 people in the 19th century, Chance Cove has long been abandoned and is now the location of the only provincially-run, unserviced campground in the province.

This means that while there is no charge at all to camp there, the sole ammenities consist of an outhouse (actually, four) and garbage cans. Ostensibly it also has rules prohibiting alcohol and open fires. In theory. In reality, no one really cares and there was evidence of both booze and blaze in abundance. Happily, it didn’t interfere with our excursion (or sleep) to any serious degree and most of the campers seemed to be there to genuinely enjoy the outdoors.

Kieran on a massive and rolling live beach. Many rocks to throw back into the ocean.

If you plan to camp there, you should note that the provincial park webpages are inaccurate. There are no water taps throughout the park. There is a river at the bottom of the hill, but that is the only water source. So bring your water or bring a bucket and either a stove to boil it on or your water filtration purification/tablets.

Surprisingly, even though it’s not monitored constantly, the garbage bins are changed regularly and the outhouses were clean and stocked with toilet paper.

There is a fair amount of driftwood on the beach, but it’s early in the summer now. In a few months, there may be decidedly less, so bring wood if you think you’ll need it. Not that you’d be building an illicit fire in one of the dozen firepits.

The nearest convenience store is in Portugal Cove South and entails a thirty minute drive to find out, upon arrival, that they have highly variable hours that make sense only to locals. On the Sunday that we were there, for instance, they didn’t open until 7pm. The nearest grocery store or reliable convenience store is in Trepassey, but even that wasn’t open when we went through.

There’s also an outdoor bank machine in Trepassey and a place called “First Venture” that serves a very fine club house sandwich and drinkable coffee.

The water from Portugal Cove South is often under a boil order (although the locals drink it without ill effects), so don’t count on refilling there if you don’t have the means to boil or purify water.

The campsites filled up fast. I wasn’t expecting to find many folks there, but the best tent sites vanished quickly. We snagged a nice one with a spectacular view.

The view from our campsite.

The kids had a whale of a time. They fished and swam….

Jasper and Katherine swam twice and enjoyed themselves thoroughly.

and buried each other alive.

The beach was close enough to the campground to keep them entertained almost perpetually. Getting the sand out of the tents was a challenge.

All-in-all, it was about the perfect campground for a family. Lots for the kids to do, a nice little walking trail with a geocache, plenty for adults to enjoy and because it was officially unsupervised, it was quite relaxed. We saw ducks, a loon, rabbits and a seal in the park itself. One of the other campers said there are truly massive trout in the river, but they’re tricky to catch.

But that was just base camp. On Sunday, we went to Mistaken Point and Cape Race…..

Filed under: D7000, family, kids, Life, Newfoundland & Labrador, photography, photos, Travel ]]> http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/23/chancecovepark/feed/ 0 VickyTH Dawn Great Big Beach Chance Cove Jasper Beach Fun http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/23/lesson-learned/ http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/23/lesson-learned/#comments Wed, 23 May 2012 12:10:34 +0000 VickyTH http://seastrandsstudio.com/?p=2686 ]]>

The cherry tree in front of our house. Taken May 19, retrieved May 22!

I’ve been off the radar for a few days and for that I apologize. We went on a very nice camping trip to Chance Cove Provincial Park over the May 24th long weekend, about which I’ll write more soon. The real reason for my absence has been a massive computer hard drive failure. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been a problem as I usually have a backup drive that keeps everything, well, backed up, so that in the case of a problem, all the critical stuff that cannot simply be reinstalled is not lost. Of particular import are photos and documents, but really, anything that contains original material matters (including email).

A few weeks ago, my backup drive got snargled up and garbled files when I tried to retrieve them and I spent a heady day making sure that the originals still existed, copying, dumping, swapping and fixing and doing all sorts of fun stuff. Formatted and repaired the drive (not in that order) and thought that had done the trick.

Apparently not. What I should have done was replaced the drive.

Monday evening I got back from my trip, dumped the memory card and was in the process of deleting the files from that card after dumping when the main hard drive gave me the blue screen of death and told me that hard drive failure was imminent. That was when I discovered that my backup drive had not been working since it last crashed, so everything recent was in one copy only on a failing drive.

After checking the basics (was the drive seated properly? did switching cables make a difference?), I resigned myself to the inevitable and started salvage work.

I shut down the computer, high-tailed it out and bought a new unit, managed to get the old drive to boot long enough to grab documents, email and half of the photos. The older half, as it turns out. Then  borrowed a USB hard drive docking station, chucked the HDD into the freezer for an hour or so, brought it back up to near room temp and managed to run chkdsk on it enough to make it accessible. This morning has seen two more successes; I managed to undelete the deleted files from the weekend from the memory card of the camera, so now I’m only missing photos from May 15-19, which, to be truthful, I could live without. There’s still a good chance I can get those back, as now the dying HDD is allowing me to modify the permissions on the Power User folder (the old computer ran Windows XP) to claim ownership and I might just (fingers crossed) be able to access at least some of the missing files.

If I’m lucky.

Memo to self: pick up new backup drive this afternoon and burn CDs of all images. Three copies can’t hurt.

The Fighting Newfoundlander. The flecks of red on the plinth are red, plastic Remembrance Day poppies that visitors have jammed into the crevices.

It can be very tricky to get a new angle on an old shot. Public parks and grounds that are particularly well-travelled and epitomize this challenge, since everyone, their uncle and their fourth cousin, three times removed, takes their camera and snaps the same shot.

The statue above, The Fighting Newfoundlander, in Bowring Park, has been photographed umpteen times in all seasons. I was walking by yesterday when I spotted the magnolia bush in bloom. Or rather, I smelled it and turned around to find out where it was. Kneeling down to enjoy this rarity (they are challenging to grow in Newfoundland and less frequently found therefore), I glanced up and spotted the statue.

The shot framed itself instantly in my mind and it was a question of balancing the need for as long a shot as possible to get the depth of field (using a small aperture), working with the high contrast between the white flowers and the rest of the shot, timing for when the moments when the sun glinted out from behind a cloud, and also working between vigorous gusts of wind that rippled the flowers and blurred everything. The tripod left my hands free to manage the variables and the remote shutter enabled me to get my shadow out of the frame.

I’m rather pleased with how this came out.

Shot at ISO 100, f22, shutter speed 0.5, focal length 11mm (Tokina 11-16mm lens) with an exposure compensation of -0.3, for those interested. Also had an ND graduated filter on, but at the lowest level.

Rowan came too.

Rowan usually comes along.

*(Yes, to answer the emails a couple of people have sent, we do indeed have two dogs. See the note at bottom of page)

Ocean+sky+trail+iceberg = perfect day

After you reach the intersection near Torbay Point, you head uphill very steeply until you reach a marvelous clifftop. The view is spectacular and makes the steep climb rather worth it.

The trail near The Cobbler, as seen from the cliff.

There was a nicely-placed iceberg!

Earlier in the day, I chanced to meet a gentleman from Ontario who had never seen icebergs before. When he mentioned this, he also said, “But I suppose you see them all the time and they’re old news to you,” in a slightly quizzical way. He appeared to be gratified to hear that even people who see them annually find them spectacular.

Flat berg

And after wandering down about 260 (not that I counted) steps, I found myself at The Cobbler.

At The Cobbler

It is a beautiful place, best visited in morning or early afternoon, before the sun tilts over and casts the cliffs in shadow.

Red rocks and blue ocean

Rowan had fun, too. Almost more than was good for her.

The dog is HERE. A contrail and a sun flare pinpoint Rowan’s location.

I was setting up to take the picture below, when Rowan decided that she was going to dodge in from my right and LEAP the six-foot-wide chasm that you see in this shot.

Churning Chasm

I spotted her just as she was about to take off and had to stop myself from stopping her, since what I would likely have done is thrown her off enough to topple her in. Plus I had a camera firmly attached to a tripod with the strap still around my neck (even tripod catches fail sometimes) and there was a good chance that either the camera or I or both might also end up in the drink.

So in an unpremeditated act of trust to which I would not have consented, given adequate notice, I let her jump and she landed cleanly on the other side.

After my heart started beating again, I put her on a sit-stay and finished the shot.

The walk back was less dramatic (after the 260 steps up), but equally beautiful. To access this trail, start at either Doran’s Lane or Red Cliff Road in Outer Cove. It’s a moderately challenging hike, mainly due to those stairs. Bring water and sunscreen.

The Cobbler is a marvelous place for a picnic!

*Moss doesn’t come on day hikes, as a rule, because Moss is not interested in hiking. Moss wants to drive in the car, stay in the car and never, never, never LEAVE the car. He particularly likes it if you’ll turn the windshield wipers on for him and jingle the keys. After car rides, which send him into paroxysms of ecstasy, Moss is as high as a kite for the rest of the day. When “under the influence” of a car ride, his behaviour towards strange dogs becomes more erratic and unpredictable. So when I want a relaxing walk for which I have to drive to the trailhead, Moss stays home. This is just who he is and now that we all know that, we get along just fine.

The bee’s knees, or behind them, if you’re looking for pollen.

Or as a bee. I’ve never understood why beavers, bees and baymen are considered to be the archetypes of frenzied activity. Every mother I’ve met could give them a pretty good run for their money.

Between trying to keep this household on an even keel and juggling (rather poorly just now) volunteer responsibilities, lately I’ve been feeling, “…all thin, sort of stretched, if you know what I mean: like butter that has been scraped over too much bread. That can’t be right. I need a change, or something…” to quote The Professor.

While I do not begrudge even an iota of the effort and time that has been given to volunteering over the past couple of years, I have come to the conclusion that I am within a hair’s breadth of emotionally and mentally burning out. If I can stagger through the next two weeks and finish off the current phase of things, I’ll be able to step back from major responsibility and breathe again. It’s not just about the time things take, but also about one’s ability to defuse stresses and keep perspective and I fear that I’ve lost those abilities temporarily. I’m not sleeping properly, I can’t think clearly, I don’t feel like running and I’m not enjoying the garden as much as I should.

When you cannot stop yourself from lying awake in the middle of the night worrying about budgets and people and the like for an organization for which you volunteer, you need to step back for a spell and get a grip.

And in two more weeks, I’ll be able to do just that. Hopefully it will do the trick and give me the ability to enjoy the work again.

Filed under: apropos of nothing, D7000, Life, personal, photo, photography, work ]]> http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/16/busy-as-a-bayman-with-two-wood-stoves-or-maybe-as-burnt-out-as-one/feed/ 3 VickyTH The bee's knees http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/15/stepping-off-the-edge/ http://seastrandsstudio.com/2012/05/15/stepping-off-the-edge/#comments Tue, 15 May 2012 12:09:25 +0000 VickyTH http://seastrandsstudio.com/?p=2667 ]]>

Stepping off the edge of the world at Torbay Point. Taken on a relatively clear day as the sun was dipping. You can see the stairs in the foreground as well as the path far out on the head. It’s a lot further than it looks.

Just south of Torbay is the community of Outer Cove. Following Marine Drive will take you to a quiet little road called “Doran’s Lane”, at the end of which is the trail to Torbay Point and The Cobbler.

This may be one of my favourite spots in the area of Torbay. It’s about a two-kilometer trip out to the point and back, so it’s one that can be done when you’re short on time.

And nowhere else in this area have I ever felt so completely and utterly isolated and vulnerable.

As you walk further and further out, you follow a narrow, winding path that drops you down over rocks and cuts through soil that is nothing but peat moss (this means it’s slippery). The East Coast Trail Association has done amazing work on the path and made it much safer, but there is still the sensation that the only thing between you and the rocks and ocean below is a good sense of balance.

Walking out to the point in the mists. A spooky sensation, since the path appeared and vanished with every footfall. I watched it swallow a couple of tourists.

You can also backtrack, after visiting the point, and proceed along the main trail heading south toward Red Cliff. The Cobbler Path is magnificent and rather a good workout, with hundreds of steps taking you up over several headlands and dropping you down into the ensuing coves.

The path to The Cobbler. You can see the trail winding up over the cliff.

It’s on my list to do again sometime soon, when I don’t have a sick child at home.  As you go, you could check out the numerous geocaches in the area!

Taken along the East Coast Trail, just north of Tapper’s Cove, Torbay.

One of the icebergs that has been hovering just off the coast nestled itself into Tor Bay today, strewing bergy bits throughout the cove and attracting photographers and sight-seers of all sorts.

Two women donned wetsuits (or possibly dry suits), hauled surfboards out of the back of a pickup truck, and paddled out a good ways toward the berg, making for a magical shot just as the sun went down.

Fiddleheads unfurling

Monday is a day of unrolling the path that the week will take and laying out the framework for getting things done. This week is a big week garden-wise, as I hope to move one bed, rework another and get many things planted, both in the ground and in starter trays in the greenhouse.

The asparagus is up and the snow peas have peeked their heads above ground. Looks like this really is spring…

Bleeding hearts bloom at a local garden store, with John and Katherine in the distance (we stopped in to get out of the rain).

By E. E. Cummings

Omphalodes. One of the first plants that Katherine could identify by name!

Living in a climate that leans precariously toward cooler temperatures even in the most hospitable of seasons tends to bring out either hope and joy or despair and gloom in folks.

A Mourning Cloak Butterfly, basking in the sun.

Busy as a bug. Although this may, in fact, have been some form of bee, as it was striped. Thankfully, due to a telephoto lens, I wasn’t close enough to obtain physical proof.

I’ve noticed that runners and gardeners fit the “hope” category, since we lean towards remarking on and enjoying every subtle improvement in our circumstances. I am quite determined therefore always to pursue both activities even after I become a doddering old woman who talks to her plants.

An azalea. Can’t remember the name, but I bought one a couple of years ago at the Botanical Garden plant sale and it has happily bloomed every year in my garden. this shot is of a larger plant at the Botanical gardens.

The Memorial University’s Botanical Gardens is a treasure. When we first bought our house, eight years ago, our lot looked like this:

Looking up the lot (the “before” pictures). We needed all the help we could get. There was no topsoil, no grass, no nothing, really, except for mud. We had lots of that! I’ll try and get some after pictures later in the season, so that you can see the change.

We went to the gardens for information, inspiration and to see what might possibly grow without too much fussy care and without taking over the yard.

Bloodroot, in the shade, near The Pools.

I recently heard a prominent gardener who was flown in to speak at a local home and garden show talking about soil improvement and one thing that he said really struck home. He said (and I’m paraphrasing loosely here),

You folks have the most wonderful resource here. Anyone know what it is? The Botanical Gardens at the Memorial University. It’s one of the top three or four gardens in Canada. I go there every single time I’m in town. Even when they’re not open, I call ahead and get a chance to see what’s new. And you know what always astonishes me?

There’s no one there.

He’s right, you know.

In the heath (Erica carnea). Katherine likes that you can see the proboscis in this shot. I like that she knows what a proboscis is.

  It is a gem of a garden and there’s something new to see every week (every day, even).

Because it’s an active garden, with all sorts of things going on, there’s also regularly new information. They have kids’ weekend programs, the cheapest and coolest summer camps in town and trails to walk and think on.

Annual membership is only $35 for a family, which gets you unlimited entrance while the garden is open and first dibs on the plant sales. It’s worth it for those alone!