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Strolling Down Nostalgia Lane

6/4/2015

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I recently took custody of the three Rubbermaid totes of family photos, now that I have more storage space than my sister. Our mother kept every Mother's Day card and postcard we ever sent, and though nothing is in albums, she also has photos all the way back to a 1909 postcard someone sent to Svea, my Swedish great-grandmother, which was pressed up against my university grad photo 93 years later.
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Things are looking messy in my condo right now, but it's all for the greater good. The cat disapproves. She likes sitting on the junk mail that's at the right of the shot, though.

My trusty Film Scanner has been working overtime. I love it!

The negatives and slides are an archeological dig into my parents' history. The slides are jumbled (but that's for another post), but the negatives are chronological. I smiled at these shots. They smack of "we're new homeowners." I have similar shots of my first home--no people or interesting angles, just "this is our first home."
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They certainly did listen to the adage of "buy the worst house in the best neighbourhood." It was by no means a hovel, and the back yard was huge, but it was torn down shortly after we moved. 


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I lived there from 6 months to 4 years, so all my earliest memories were within the basic boundaries of these photos. Childhood memories being what they are, most are nebulous and fragmented, but when I saw these photos, they whooshed right back:
  • The crawl space that was built for Lilliputians. I didn't understand it was just for storage. 
  • Watching Sesame Street with my sister and yelling out the number and letter each episode was "brought to you by." Apparently, that's how we woke up our parents
  • Lying in my parents' bed with my Nana while she taught us about cloud animals. What do you see? Close your eyes...keep them closed....OPEN.... what do you see now?
  • Getting a gift of a crocheted blanket from the same Nana
  • Being terrified of a black and white Dracula movie our babysitter let us watch. I remember Dracula crashing through the huge windows and biting the lady. I wouldn't go near our picture windows for ages. I don't think that babysitter was invited back.
  • Peering over the fence at our neighbour's pool fountain, which was a nude boy peeing. Right in the pool!
  • Louise Sawyer's white plastic wicker-look basket on her bike with big handlebars. It had 2 colourful plastic daisies too. Can't believe her name came back to me as well
  • Inheriting our dog Crockett from my mom's friends Lorna and Bob when they moved to Malawi
  • The ottoman (maybe the one in the following picture) that we would flip on its side and pretend was our tv. The wheels were the knobs (the what? youngsters will ask). We even drew squiggly lines for the screen. I think I remember that because our mom got mad at us



There are a few more, but they might be influenced by seeing photos or hearing the lore in years since. Maybe some of the above are too, but I am claiming them as my own.



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There's me and my smiling little face. That's my maternal grandfather partly in the frame, and possibly the ottoman from my memory, though I think this is my grandparents' house. "My" ottoman seemed more stripey and not as tall.

Thank you, Lomography Smartphone Film Scanner!


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Hoh Rainforest: In search of all the greens

5/30/2015

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The Hoh Rain Forest--one of the last primeval temperate rain forests in the continental US, and the destination for my long weekend long hike. My first visit here was during a rare summer drought, and I didn't venture must past the first 1/2 km of trail. Having grown up in rain forest country, I didn't expect to be more than casually impressed with the surroundings. I am glad I gave it another go.

I hit the traill by 9:30, which was perfect. It was 2 hours before I saw another human. This turned out to be the perfect hike for me: long enough that I felt it, with enough elevation gain and diverse tread to keep me interested but not too tired.


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Although I was alone most of the way, I keenly felt the life around me. According to the trail literature, the Hoh has more life per square inch than almost anywhere else on Earth. The Amazon outdoes it in fauna, but not flora. Every surface, except for the human-made trails, is covered in layers and dimensions of growth. Lichens, moss, ferns cover the Sitka Spruce and Western Hemlock and the occasional carpet of dwarf dogwood and other flowers cover ground and tree.


Everything lives and dies in symbiosis here. I suppose that's not unusual for anywhere on Earth, but it's visible here. The recently fallen logs decay into shades of brown, the long-fallen logs support green growth, and the trees provide shade. Everything provides moisture. In the dense parts of the hike, my glasses steamed up, less from my effort than the breathing matter around me. Although it hadn't rained in days, even in the early afternoon the leaves were covered in dew and dampness.

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As often happens on my solo journeys, my mind wanders to weird places. I got a fit of the giggles mid-way through, as the forest suddenly brought me back to my retail days in my early 20's. I had to learn the difference between ecru and bone and taupe, and all the shades of green. Suddenly the trees were customers, and I was saying "That's a nice chartreuse blouse." "You prefer more of a lime? Look right over there. Try this one in kelly green." "Here, shrug on this emerald jacket".



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The Hoh River Trail is a bit of a misnomer, at least for the first 5 1/2 miles. There's a small number of refreshing river views, which bring you out of the forest and into the bright, but much of the hike is deep in the forest. Background music is often the river or one of the creeks, and sometimes it's just the chirp of birds and squirrels (chipmunks?)


I saw a Roosevelt elk on the way back! In all my years of coming to this area, this is the first I saw. There were actually two, but this was the closest. I may have been violating the 100 foot rule, but he came out of the forest in front of me, and I didn't want to move.

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I love the US National Parks. They deserve their recognition. I don't mind paying modest entrance fees ($15/week for the Olympic NP). I can see my fees hard at work with well maintained trails, excellent services at the trail heads, and a relatively clean privy here and there.


My Fitbit was as happy with my hike as I was.

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Lindeman Lake: In search of emerald water

5/11/2015

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Sore quads. Good pictures. Sunshine. A successful weekend. This is my new favourite Lower Mainland hike--must be the emerald green, crystal clear water plus clean air plus pounding lungs.

I had attempted the hike the weekend before, but the rangers closed it due to bear activity. I was secretly happy, as I don't do steep climbs well, thanks to my general laziness and layers of insulation. But I soldier on. My wonky depth perception troubles me on uneven surfaces, too, which this hike had in plenitude. In retrospect, I wish had taken more pics of the terrain to remind myself that I did it. 


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The beginning of the trail is deceptive--flat and wide. It quickly climbs at the trail head. Rocks, roots, switchbacks, sweat. I stopped looking up because I was tortured by the dots of neon from the fit hikers climbing up, up, up. Evil little beacons.

A quick rest at the graffiti rock, which turned out to be the top of the elevation gain.




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Thankfully, the lake was just a few hundred meters ahead. I immediately forgot the steep.

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The trail guide warned that the popularity of the trail means solitude is no longer an option, and the groups of hooting teens and weekend warriors attested to that. But no matter. The beauty of the water won out.

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In the immortal words of the Terminator: I'll be back. Next time with a friend who will patiently help me over the rockfalls and onto Greendrop Lake a few kilometers further.
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April 06th, 2012

4/6/2012

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