The Eagle Has Landed

"I am the eagle, I live in high country. In rocky cathedrals, that reach to the sky. I am the hawk and there's blood on my feathers, but time is still turning they soon will be dry. And all those who see me and all who believe in me, share in the freedom I feel when I fly."~John Denver The Eagle and The Hawk

I have been to some of the finest galleries and museums in the world. I have been incredibly privileged to see works of art by Da Vinci, Monet, Michelangelo, and Picasso up close and personal, and I have reveled in the beauty and the artistry. But all of it pales in comparison for me to seeing wildlife in their natural habitats. The photos, paintings, and poetic descriptions simply cannot adequately do justice to the sight of a bald eagle in flight or a sea lion basking on the rocks with her pups. 

Those were just a few of the spectacular visions we were privy to today in Ketchikan, our first port in Alaska. Once again blessed with outstanding weather, we boarded a small vessel in order to fully capture the natural beauty of the southern part of the state. Armed with my fleece, earmuffs, scarf, and gloves, we were almost immediately treated to eagles, immature and mature, as well as eaglets high up still nesting. My emotions swelled to the point that I just could not help myself from humming a John Denver melody. I am fairly certain that I understand him and his music much better today. I could have gone to sleep happy right then and there, but more was still to come.

As we came around the back side of the Ward lighthouse, we were gifted with the joyous sight of sea lions fishing and several pups sunning themselves on the rocky islands. According to our guide, Captain Obvious, (dressed exactly for the part) there are humpback whales in these parts, but even my begging and pleading couldn't coax them to the surface. But that is the unpredictability of nature and I will accept the flakiness of that whale any day, if I could once again experience the loftiness I felt when witnessing that eagle take flight. I almost didn't mind the cold.

**Photo credit to my heart, Barry Bernstein

On the Waters to Alaska

We have been on several cruises but never one that has seen the water as clear and smooth as glass as this one has been so far. I almost hesitated writing that sentence for fear that the motion-sickness gods would be angered and strike me down with a raging case of heaving and vertigo without offering me a hat for a remedy. (My closest friends will understand the reference.) But, the northern waters of British Columbia have offered some stunning vistas and the weather, while appropriately chilling, has been clear and given us some sparkling views.

It is unusual that I would write about a sea day. Usually these are down times limited to reading and overeating, but there is much to observe from the ship today and I must say that if one is thinking about traveling in this direction, seeing it from the balcony of a boat might just offer some of nature's finest spectacles. As we pass through Alert Bay, Johnstone Strait, and Robson Bight, we may just spit some Orca pods and view some eagles circling. This area has been dubbed the Orca Highway and is key on their migration path.

But here's the thing. While I am hopeful of experiencing that childish giddiness that I felt a few days ago, I am not in the least bit greedy. If they seem to grace us with their presence, I will happily spend hours, minutes, or even seconds watching and wishing them well. If not, well....I can honestly thank them for the gift bequeathed me. Keep you all posted. 

One last thing for this lazy day. Happy Anniversary to us. Like Baskin and Robbins we are celebrating 31'derful years, flavours, and adventures. Here's to the next 31 and beyond to my heart, my touchstone, my source of aggravation, my smartest critic, and my biggest fan. A'int nothing like the real thing, baby. 

** The interweb is quite hinky here. I will try and add a photo later. So sorry. 

The Gift of Grace

Sometimes one finds grace in the unlikeliest of locales.

As we made our way down Robson Street toward the glorious urban oasis that is Stanley Park, I spent several minutes thanking the Divine Spirit for the glorious weather with which we have been blessed. You know a city gets a great deal of rain in a year when even the local Starbucks has an umbrella basket at the front of the shop. But, not this week. This week Vancouver has been gifted with mid-summer temperatures and radiant sunshine. And while I won't read too much into the fact that we are experiencing the best that this city has to offer in terms of its climate, I might just have to make good on one of my many vows and prayers directed towards the heavens. (I swear it has nothing to do with the selling of my offspring or theirs, but I can't in true sincerity promise that renouncing a vice or two might not be in the picture. I'll really miss my chocolate.) But I digress.

We decided to walk the seawall at Stanley and we were struck by the magnificent views of the skyline and Vancouver harbour. We knew that we would eventually come across the lighthouse and the totem poles that adorn the park, but I was captivated by the benches that dotted our path. Each bench is donated by a citizen and many are memory markers in honour of lost loved ones. Most are generic in their inscriptions, but one in particular caught my eye.

I have absolutely no idea who Bill Orr was or what kind of life he led, but he obviously left a lasting impression on whoever dedicated this bench. Isn't that what we all hope for? To be remembered for our spirit and our strength? I can think of no finer legacy.

In honour of Bill, I sat on his bench and looked out onto the water. As I sat, reflected, and rested two sea otters lazily swam in the distance. Another gift of grace bequeathed from this beautiful city on the left.

Vancouver Skyline

Lighthouse at Stanley Park

Totem Poles at Stanley Park

**Tomorrow we board ship headed north to Alaska. (That sounds like a ridiculous Hope/Crosby road picture.) There may be a gap of a day or two in these blogs. I will try and keep up. Thanks for following.

Going Green on the Left Coast

There is an ease in the lifestyle out here in British Columbia that makes an old libtard like me feel right at home. I feel a true forwardness in philosophy and a conscientious effort on the part of the people to live their best lives. Now, don't get me wrong. I would abhor the 200+ days of dreary, rainy weather, but I find the adroitness of the creativity and naturality out here most appealing.

Those qualities were on full display in our two major stops today. Wandering through the luxurious florals at Butchart Gardens in Victoria reminded me that the gift of natural splendour is greatly enhanced when guided by a gifted creative force. There was very little that seemed out of place in the gardens that Jennie Butchart bequeathed to the people of British Columbia. Vibrant colours bursting out of all species of flora were placed in perfect harmony with a brilliant architectural design. I could have sat for hours in the rose garden or quietly meditated in the Japanese garden. But I think that I loved the old Victorian English layout the best. Crafted out of an old quarry, the place gave off the impression of a grand fairyland filled with leafy vines and colours of all varieties. There is a sense here that the outside world can wait for just a bit while one's consciousness is renewed and reinvigorated. Sigmund Freud once said "Flowers are restful to look at. They have neither emotions nor conflicts."

And if that wasn't enough to stir the environmentalist in me, we decided to visit Capilano Suspension Bridge Park just as evening was setting in Vancouver. The jaunt across the 450ft long and 230 ft high bridge that is described as "reassuringly wobbly since 1889" was a motion-sickness nightmare. My equilibrium was off immediately as I set foot on the expanse and I felt appropriately nauseated, but I wasn't about to let it deter me. The rainforest ecosystem must be properly viewed from above else it is lost in muddled descriptions. The Treetops adventure of seven suspension bridges through the enormous Douglas firs is enough to bring even the worst acrophobic to his knees, but it is a must experience. As is the cliff walk that is suspended along the granite cliff faces of the canyon, but my height-fearing friend chose to sit that one out. Vancouver has really figured out how to live green and the park at Capilano is a testament to that resolve.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't mention my heart on his birthday. I can't think of a better way or  better place in which to celebrate his day. We finished off a wonderful jaunt with a wonderful meal at an amazing vegan joint in Gas Town. Happy Birthday to The Husband. May all of our days be as lovely as today.

Through the Eyes of a Child

Today I had an extraordinary experience that was totally random and entirely unexpected, and the best part was that I got to witness the joy through the eyes of a four-year-old.

I had great trepidation as we boarded the ferry for Victoria. As I have mentioned in this space more times than I care to remember, I have motion-sickness angst every time I board a sea-going vessel. As we would be trapped like hamsters on a wheel with no escape in sight for almost two hours, and the weather out here in British Columbia has been more like mid-summer, we headed immediately to the outdoor deck at the stern of the ship. I figured that if the crossing was rocky, at least I could hang my head over the railing in relative peace and not disturb too many other passengers. I chose our location well, for not only were the seas very calm but immediately after launch we were treated to my joy of joys; a pod of at least a dozen orcas was right beside the boat. When the announcement came on over the intercom informing everybody else of the whales' presence, we were already in direct view and had a front row seat to the show. We saw several breach and more than a few displayed their flukes for us. I sobbed with joy knowing how special this was.

But, my exuberance was intensified by my partner at the rail. Standing beside me was a young boy named Colton who rushed over to see the show with his mother and older brother. He was desperate to see the whales, but due to his size and excitement was having some problems finding them in the water. 

Colton: I want to see the whales, Mommy. Where are they?

Mom: Straight out there. Look over there Colton.

Colton: I can't see them. I want to see them!

Mom: Straight ahead.

I totally understood his problem. Being of stunted height myself, I am often left behind when the world is having a collective vision.

Me: Colton...follow my finger and look straight where my finger is. Do you see them now?

Colton: YES!!! Are they killer whales?

Me: Yes. Yes, they are.

Colton's mom then told the both of us how very special this experience was. She recounted that in all her years taking this ferry back and forth from Vancouver to Victoria, she had never once before seen the whales. Colton jumped up and down with the glee that only a child could get away with, and clapped his hands in absolute delight. I desperately wanted to jump up and down and clap right along with him.

It is a wonderful thing to be able to have a once in a lifetime experience and have it come entirely at random. It is even better to view it with the unqualified purity and unmitigated joy of a child. What a gift I was given today. 

Photo credit: Barry Stein

Photo credit: Barry Bernstein

A Day For the Senses

I have come to the conclusion that the worst thing to happen to travel in this generation has to be the invention of the selfie stick. I have never witnessed so many people in the presence of so much incredible beauty so totally oblivious to their surroundings because of their collective obsession with capturing their own faces in pixels. Today I stood before one of the most stunningly exquisite visual natural sights I have ever had the privilege to witness, and I was shoved aside by a miniature woman from a tour bus, armed with a selfie stick who complained that I was messing up her shot. I wish I had had the cojones to tell her to look up at the awe-inspiring magnificence that is Lake Louise, but instead, I slunk away in abject embarrassment.

If I could do it all over again, I might have told her that these images are fleeting, and viewing them all exclusively through the back end of a camera can't possibly do them justice. I believe that one day that woman will look at her collection of selfies and ask the very real questions "Where was that taken?" or "Was I there?"

So, in that vein, today I offer a post for the senses. One image, smell, sound, taste, or touch from our day as we left the Canadian Rockies and travelled through the Okanagan Valley.

Sight: It is truly impossible to describe the colour of the water at Lake Louise. Never before have I seen water the colour of turquoise crystals. As the morning sun hit the glacier-fed lake, there was a teal hue that reflected off the brilliantly off the white snow-crested mountains in the background. A myriad of red canoes silently at paddle offered a prismatic multitude of crisp pigments. It was stunning.

Lake Louise

Smell: The fragrance comes from a garden outside of a restaurant in Banff. As we walked through the parking lot, the air was filled with the aroma of flowering sage. While I normally would abhor scents as powerfully sweet as this, there was something wondrous about the idea of it blooming wildly. In the words of John Denver, "It filled up my senses."

Sound: As we walked through City Park in Kelowna, I was moved by the buskers adding their voices to the summer sounds of the city. One guy, in particular, stood apart from the others, and his clear guitar and plaintive vocals were just the tonic needed to wash away a long day of driving.

Taste: I have never been one to fully appreciate the flavours of a good glass of wine, but today the vintages I tasted at the two wineries we visited in the Okanagan Valley were sublime. The cool crispness of the white and the tanginess of the red brought the heart of the region into clear focus.

Touch: The rocky lake bed that has been exposed by evaporation at Lac Moraine, is difficult to traverse, but worth the effort. The stones have been smoothed by decades spent underneath the water and the driftwood littering the beach felt uneven and somewhat featureless.

Photos are important memories. Selfies are fun and have a place in today's social media experience. But there is no doubt in my mind that the trend towards inflating one's ego is leading most people to miss what is right in front of them. I am desperately trying to absorb it all.

Lac Moraine

Vineyards at Arrowleaf Winery

Esa Einai

Esa einai el heharim, 

me'ayin yavo ezri

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains.
From where does my help come?  

Ezri me'im Adonai, 
Oseh shamayim va'aretz 

My help comes from Adonai, 
who made heaven and earth.  (Psalm 121)


I spent a huge chunk of my time today believing that I was staring into the face of the Almighty.

How could one feel anything less when gazing upon the majesty that is the Rocky Mountains from the summit of Sulfur Mountain in Banff Alberta?

God exists for me here because here I feel the natural presence of creation. Here I feel the need to utter words of thanks and prayer for the simple beauty that comes with the wholesome, the unrefined, the organic. Here I remember the music of benediction, the rhythm of invocation, the beat of devotion.

I will lift up my eyes to the mountains....

Today on the top of a mountain I saw God.

From where does my help come?

Today on the top of a mountain I felt spiritual strength manifest into physical strength.

My help comes from Adonai,

Today on the top of a mountain I knew unequivocally that I was not alone.

Who made heaven and earth.

Today on the top of a mountain I saw heaven and earth touch and together become infused with an intense spirit of holiness.

God walked with me today and I felt invigorated.