It wouldn’t be a tour guide without a photo of the pier at White Rock.
Despite the residential area only a few hundred metres away, solitude can be found on a lonely spit and with a bright jacket, you can stand out in a crowd even when no one is around.
Sometimes it’s more interesting to see what is left behind after the H2O has gone.
Lost in the moment
gazing out to sea
rhythms of the tide
carry far away voices.
As I reached this spot above the tracks, on our way to the beach, I noticed a woman walking along the promenade with a bright pink umbrella. Together with the green grass and the yellow bench, I’m thinking the pink should fit in nicely, especially since there are no other people in view. Because of the drizzle, my camera – securely wrapped in a ziploc bag – rests safe in my backpack. By the time fumble fingers me has gone through the process of taking off the backpack, pulled out the camera, removed it from the baggy and switched it on…well, of course, both the lady and the pink umbrella have disappeared out of the potential picture. Since everything was all set up to snap a photo, I went ahead when I noticed all the parallel lines running horizontally in the scene, plus I still like the bright yellow against the lush green grass.
Hard to miss the East Beach totem poles from either the road or the beach. They were commissioned in 1998 and placed in 1999 to commemorate the 125th anniversary of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and were a gift from the White Rock RCMP detachment. An excellent spot to survey the ocean, watch people passing by below on the promenade or contemplate the bigger picture while relaxing on the stone benches.
Well, a mini version anyway. Water at just the right height to give the illusion of a group of islands awaiting the last rays of the sun. For the seagulls, the rocks do provide an island viewpoint into the surrounding waters for clams and other possible dinner goodies. The undersides usually provide shelter for dozens of baby crabs as the tide recedes and they become vulnerable to the birds. And then you stroll along the water’s edge until some other interesting aspect catches your eye.
Walking down the hill I spotted this heron gazing intently for its next meal. Since it was still going to take the better part of ten minutes to get to the track crossing and return along the beach, I figured he would be long gone. But his pace was even slower – one very careful, long legged step at a time. Gave me plenty of time to use a boulder as a tripod and snap a couple of shots despite the dull, grayish, overcast skies. Where’s the fish? Only the shadow knows.
Must be the usual post Christmas discussion about when to remove the decorations. There used to be a lot of debate about this since Little Christmas – or Feast of the Epiphany – falls on January 6th and no one really wants to cut short the holiday season. However, these northwestern crows are just having their usual midday confab about who knows what. Since they all roost together in one spot every night when it is not mating season, their gathering in the middle of the day must have some rationale other than intense vocalizations and flapping of wings. As suddenly as they group together, within fifteen minutes or so they disperse back to their own little territory to scrounge for food. About the lights, well… pretend they’re not there until next December and quit bugging the birds.
Spotted this gull skimming into shore from about forty feet out in the bay moments before he landed at water’s edge with supper dangling from his beak. Gulls are usually pretty human tolerant but he kept a wary gaze in my direction as I raised the camera. And from his other side a dozen of his avian compatriots were winging or swimming in to try for a share of the prize. He vigorously flayed the crab on the rocks to break open the shell and basically gulped the contents in two quick snorts before taking flight. Didn’t even stop for a quick drink of water or pause to wipe off his beak.