Snake Island

The waves were a bit rough on the windward side of the island, so I paddled around to the back side and a small cove where the water was still and landing was easy. Snake Island is a rather large island in the midst of the many islands in the area.

Crossing the channel from the main land to Snake Island

I walked around the cove noticing the fire rings on the rocks and away from the tree areas. Some great camping spots with mossy ground. It looked inviting for setting up a tent and comfortable  for sleeping. The top of the island had a wonderful view of the bay.

The lee side of Snake Island

I took a swim and enjoyed the windless north side on the hot rocks. Just like a pool, the slabs of stone were large and warm after a swim. Looking at the map, I discovered the island was called Snake Island, so I thought I would look around a bit for snakes.

There were juniper trees and low-lying bushes, grassy areas and large rocky areas.  Fortunately I didn't find any snakes, but there must have been a good reason to name this island after them. Since this was the Killarney area,  St Patrick came to mind and I figured he cleaned out this area also. 

Mike and Anna crossing Collins Inlet

 I watched two other kayakers cross and land on the island, hike up the hill to the small peak where I was standing.

Looking South towards Killarney

After they saw the cove where I had landed they moved their gear to the lee side and started to set up camp. I would think that after exerting so much energy paddling that I would be hungry and ready for an evening meal. Food didn't cross my mind until Mike offered me an apple.  I stuck it away for later. That evening as I did finally camp, I found a simple thing like an apple was amazing. That was a whole meal for me that night. 

I loaded up again and headed out for Solomon Islands farther east. I was used to afternoon and evening wind dying down and expected the waters would be still in the coves behind the islands. I took some more photos of the island, said good by to Mike and Anna and headed east along the coast. I was looking forward to evening golden light and reflections of stone faces. It was about 7:00 pm and it didn't get dark till about 9:30. Plenty of time to do photograph and still set camp.
I paddled past some small rock out cropings and headed northeast along the coast still sheltered by the island.

I floated past some great campsites with more campers on other islands.  It wasn't overly isolated nor was it crowded. It was good to see some people in the area yet not too close.


The only noise were the waves and wind. I could see Solomon Island in the distant and set course for the pine tops.




Continued....  Solomon Islands?

Cerulean Waters of Killarney

 I was in Wolf Country, a billboard caught my eye and told me so. I would love to see a wolf in the timbers. I drove north out of Britt and towards Killarney, a two hour drive.  I turned onto Hwy 69,  the only road to Killarney.  I wanted to see the landscape, but the silhouette of pine trees at dusk was all I could catch of the area. Arriving in Killarney after dark I knew there were camp grounds around there some where, but I was dog tired and pulled into a pay parking lot behind a church to sleep in the van.
The evening was still hot at 11:00pm, as I tried to figure out how to set the tent up in the van for the mosquito net. I stretched the netting between the clothes hangers in the van, crawled in, zipped the net shut and slept to  the drone of bugs. A great source of white noise.
Sounds miserable, but I slept well and it wasn't that bad, The bugs didn't arrive until after dark .

The next morning I walked about Killarney to find a place for breakfast. I wanted to get acquainted with the area and the people of this little town.There were no traffic lights.  There was one grocery / dry goods store under renovations, three marina's, three or four restaurant / bars, A fishing business that ships fish out as well as offers fish and chips on the dock, It fills up on the weekends with travelers and boaters.

Killarney Church on Main St

I met John, a sailboat owner who was repairing his boat after a winter in drydock and launching that day. He was looking for a buyer for his sailboat and an adventurous type to join him on a trimaran sailboat that he would sail from Florida to Cuba to Cancun Mexico. Actually it was his wife looking for some other person to join him in his trip. He was going to go alone. I considered it for about two seconds and thought about the last time I was out on the ocean. a captain kept asking me "What ya looking for down there? I was leaning over the edge all day LONG.

I drove out to the view the light house on the edge of town looking for a launching place.

Area around the light house

Light house view from land

Parking is a premium in Killarney. The state park wanted $14/ day to leave your car overnight,and there weren't too many access points to the bay close by. A Marina owner, Dutch allowed me to park on his property and launch from the public park next door. Dutch also had some great bear stories. One mother had crossed the channel with her two cubs in tow. The smallest lagged behind and started to cry out. With out missing a beat the mom and the other cub circled around and got behind the lagger and stuck with him till they reached the other side. Another time a cub walked into Dutched marina looking hungry, Dutch put some dog food down, and the cub ate it, and left only to return and leave some scat on the floor. Of course he wasn't welcome anymore.

Across the channel from Killarney

Across the small bay from the lighthouse

I launched from the mid town area about 2:00 pm. There was still about 8 hours of light left. I paddled through the channel that leads out into the northern part of Georgian Bay. I followed the coast towards the light house.

View of the light house from the water, turning the point

I paddled north following the coast through some of the most beautiful water I have ever had the chance to paddle in. and on up to another channel crossing to the islands.

From the wind protected West side of the main land I paddled the coast and towards the channel crossing the narrowest point of the inlet. The crossing was large waves and very windy. I like paddling into the wind and waves, water crashing over the pointy bow of the boat. I was not used to paddling with the waves coming at me from the side lifting me up on the peak and dropping me into the trough. I was not experienced in these conditions, a loaded boat made for a more stable boat. I caught on but was still on alert.  My original course was for Solomon Island, but with the wind and waves I headed towards the lee side of the first island I came too.

Continued  Snake Island

The Storm

continued from Telluris Vultus II

A light breeze had risen as I paddled on the edge of the Canadian Shield of granite. To my right was open water and the left were the smooth rocky islands. I left Norgate Inlet and moved south towards Nasicoot River. Passing tree covered rocky shores.

I spotted a cottage in the trees on the edge of the open water and thought of storms that may have cast waves large enough to hit the home. The trees all leaned towards the east. Winds could be a constant at certain times of the year. Next to the home there stood a large rock carin as I called it but the Canadians called them Inuksuk. Markers on the trail.

Three canoes emerged from behind and island moving in the same direction I was headed. The water in front of me started to get choppy as I made my way towards the canoes. I was hoping to get a clear idea of my exact location, as there were no sign posts or named areas. I paddled over very shallow water that would rise and fall on the flat rocky area I was crossing. The rough water would lift me up and drop me to the rocks and I hit the rock shelf a few times.  I was a bit puzzled because there was only blue sky and a slight wind in my face. Turning around I saw a white sheet of cloud surrounded by a dark grey sky that engulf the island I had just passed. It was barely visible as the rain started churning towards me.

This squall was moving fast, over taking me and I decided to get to land. There was some thunder, but I didn't turn around to look for lightening. I was the high point on the water and I didn't want to get fried.  I paddled towards the canoers who had landed and were now taking cover in the low trees. I paddled after them and landed.







I thought I may be there for the rest of the day so after pulling the boat up to high ground I grabbed the tent and other gear from the boat to set camp. I ran across a swampy area, the kind I had been warned about. Tall grasses, low lying juniper trees, and water. Hearing the sound of fast rustling and feeling something hit the back of my leg I jumped straight up and turned around, thinking I had been snake bit. The self rescue air bag had unfurled and made the noise and hit my leg. Even in the rain I had to stop and laugh at how comical it must have looked like to see me jumping up and turning around trying to find a snake. I continued on to the trees to wait out the storm. I found the canoners sitting on the soft mossy ground under a blue tarp. A group of 9 boys from Camp Huron, on a five day trip. As we waited out the storm,  Killareny ON came up in our conversations and the rocky areas there. I had heard how different it was compared to the Britt and Bayfield areas. The islands were rougher, larger,  and the water deeper.

I thought about staying where we were for the night, but then I remembered the mosquitoes and changed my mind. They aren't as bad out on the rocky openings, but in the trees they can be ferocious. We waited out the storm for about an hour, then they went on south and I continued my search for faces and thought about Killareny.

The storm wind was still blowing and the water was still churning. The reflections seemed to be gone for the day. I discovered some basalt streaks running through the granite. I paddled around them  marveling at the forces that had put them in place. Heat, molten rock that at one time must have swirled. Metamorphic rock.

 I decided to paddle back to Britt and drive north, The wind and waves still kicking a bit, but not intolerable. Behind the islands there were sporadic winds and small gusts. Occasionally I would find some reflections.

Paddling by a smaller group of islands, I came across some boulders lined up in a trough.  I wondered who had rolled these stones into place and propped little stones at their base. I figured a group of people had spent an afternoon using some pry bars and a few beers to make this arrangement.
Later in the tip I met some local folks who talked of storms waves large enough to move boulders larger than these.






I paddled through some other small canyons
on the way back, past the outer light house,
and continued on to Britt.

I carried a small transponder called a "SPOT". A Spot is a small locater and communicator letting those know on your call list where you are and giving them updates on your location. In an emergency there is a call for rescue to the Canadian Coast Guard in this case.  I checked in home to let them know I had decide to head to Killarney. I didn't realize the number of hours in the boat or the miles covered until I called in. 

I was beat. The marina had a shower for a dollar.  Oh ya! 

The boat loaded I headed to Killarney,

next week "Cerulean Waters of  Killarney ON"

In Search of Tellruis Vultus II

(Continued from post 10-19)

The sunlight broke through the tent side as the sound of diehard mosquitoes were still lightly buzzing.
In the cool of the morning I spent some time walking around the area before beginning the days paddling.



 As I was packing at the dock in Britt on the first day I over heard that rattlesnakes had been very active due to the unusually warm weather. I stayed away from low lying juniper bushes and swampy areas. Air horns could be used to clear a blackbear out of the area but they probably wouldn't move a snake. I carried a stick and walked in clear paths staying on the warm slab of rocks.

Later, I again loaded the kayak and paddled back into the low canyons I had visited the day before.

The walls ranged from a couple of feet high to 10 feet of steep and solid rock outcroppings.
 Finding a patch of blueberries close the edge of the rocky cliff, I turned the paddle to hit them in an upward motion, the blue berries would rain down into the water and I would gather them. A slight breeze had risen and rippled the water erasing the reflections that I had seen the night before.





I paddled into a "water field" of wild lilies in a wide open area. By this time the wind was blocked by the rocky shore and trees. There was shallow water,  clear enough to see the sandy bottom and the tendrils of the lilies as they floated upward. From below, the lily pads looked like big green clouds, and life lines to the sunlight. A green glow from the sun shining through the lily pads lit the underwater world.        

                             It is a miracle that curiosity survives formal education. 

                                                                        Albert Einstein 

As Rusty's comment about "Art is not in the creating, it is in the finding." I knew I found something wonderful in these water fields of lilies. Something handed to me. I counted it as a gift. I didn't create this shot, I captured a view. I was curious enough to want to see the underwater world of lilies.

I forgot about the reflections I was after and enjoyed the "water fields" of lilies. I continued paddling through three large "fields". I was very quite, and slow hoping to see other wildlife, I spotted an otter moving smoothly through the lilly pads and slowly ghosting away without a ripple.






 In Norgate Inlet, and Foster Island I came across a barge of building materials. The builders were framing a "cottage" as the Canadiens called them. It seemed to be large for a cottage. All the materials were on board. I saw the windows and roofing materials as well as stacks of lumber. There are no roads to these islands to deliver by truck, so the lumber barges were the delivery system. I watched the framers for a moment and moved on.

Still on my quest for Telluris Vultus, (earth faces) I was not satisfied with my search. I decided to paddle father south and broke out to the rocky islands that were on the edge of the open water.  I headed towards a little harbor in Bayfield, 4 miles away.  As I paddled south east the sky was blue and small clouds were before me. A slight wind in my face and ripples on the water.  I stayed close to the shore making time. I carried a map and compass, but no weather radio or UHF radio. I had all I needed at the time, shelter, food, and close enough to land to camp if the waves got to be too much to handle. Thunder storms were forecast for later that day.  The weather seemed to be just fine at the moment so I was enjoying the journey.

The view looking south west Georgian Bay ON

Land of 30,000 Islands

Next post " The Storm"

In Search of Telluris Vultus

In Search of........... the keys, a mate, a friend, a job,
 a car, the other sock, the salt, the salsa in the fridge, a good cup of coffee in Iowa,
 the remote, once found something worth watching, something to wear,  . Most of us have a search going on some where.   I'm searching for more things we search for. You can find anything on Craig's list.  

Everybody's searching for something.

This summer my travels led to Britt, Ontario Canada. I was here for a purpose, to find Telluris Vultus. Earth Faces. I had vision for more reflections, more art. It was also about the adventure in the quest, the discovery on the path. 

After paddling all day in unfamiliar waters, I started searching for a place to camp. I hadn't seen what I had come to Georgian Bay to find yet. Like fishing, patience is key.
The question was still there, "Am I in the right location?"  I had been paddling around in circles I think. I had scouted the area as best as I could and wasn't finding what I was looking for. I knew where I was by map, but that sense of being close to my purpose and not finding was haunting me. It was during this time that I entered into a stillness on the water. I caught the shift in purpose and my focus changed. This seemed like a sanctuary. 

The stillness, the quite, the evening when the light is just right. I paddled so quite I could only hear the small dripping of the water off the paddle as I slowly made my way into a multi canyon area. I saw a raccoon at the waters edge watching me. A mink swam across small channel with a fish in his mouth. I had seen bears earlier that day and wanted to see one in this area. This was rich, light, stillness, reflections, animals. I wound my way through the rocky areas finding the reflections I was searching for.

At last he sun did drop and the sound of a thousand hungry mosquitoes gave me amazing speed in setting up my tent. The sun heated rocks were like a sauna as I lay in the dark under the rain fly. This was a sweat lodge.  I tried to undo the rain fly by a tiny hand hold in the netting. I was bombarded by mosquito bites and realized I might just have to sweat it out that night. It wasn't a restful sleep. 

I reviewed the days photo shots that night to the drone of bugs. I did my work, I focused on my purpose. I was rewarded for my efforts. Putting a price on art has not been an easy task, but through that experience I  found out how to price art by the misery you endure. Hard, hot rocks, mosquitoes, no breeze,  That evening cost me something.

In search of Telluris Vultus    Part 2 Next Week

"Vision is the art of seeing things that are not seen." John Mason, from " You're born an Original don't die a copy!"

Then art must be the result of acting on an inner vision.

"

Artists are magical helpers. Evoking symbols and motifs that connect us to our deeper selves, they can help us along the heroic journey of our own lives.   The artist is meant to put the objects of this world together in such a way that through them you will experience that light, that radiance which is the light of our consciousness and which all things both hide and, when properly looked upon, reveal. The hero journey is one of the universal patterns through which that radiance shows brightly. What I think is that a good life is one hero journey after another. Over and over again, you are called to the realm of adventure, you are called to new horizons. Each time, there is the same problem: do I dare? And then if you do dare, the dangers are there, and the help also, and the fulfillment or the fiasco. There's always the possibility of a fiasco. But there's also the possibility of bliss" Joseph Campbell "Pathways to Bliss"

The Journey is the Destination

So it didn't turn out the way you thought it should!

What were you expecting?


Well I was expecting to see the same kind of photography opportunities that I had become accustom to.
I mean wide rivers, plenty of rock outcroppings, clear, smooth water, 10 to 12 miles of paddling a great river. I did my homework and studied the landscape and found the terrain I was looking for.
I drove 5 hours to the northwest corner of Connecticut to Bull's Bridge. This trip I
 invited Zig Ziglar, a motivational speaker to join me. He rode in the CD player and encouraged me the whole trip. Along the way I passed through the Delaware Water Gap and noticed the water was high. I hoped that the torrential downpour that we experienced in Pennsylvania had not reached Connecticut. Not to be. The white water guys in Connecticut were all smiles. The roaring and rushing white water eliminated the photo op that I was expecting to find.

Now What?
A bit discouraged I drove north to Kent, CT and walked around asking the locals if they knew of rocky shores farther north on the river. The answers I received were not favorable. The previous storm raised water levels and knocked the red fall foliage off the trees. As I walked around the town I started to notice the large bronze sculptures dotting the town lawns.

It was late in the day so most of the shops were closed and not much was going on. I decided to drive farther north along the river hoping to find my photographic subjects. About 8 p.m. I came across a place to eat with a wifi connection to check mail. I heard from some locals that there was a possibility of reflections on a lake farther east. I traveled to Colebrooke Lake and looked for a place to camp.

My "Now What ?" turned into a different adventure. On my bare-bones trips grilled tortillas and cheese are the main stay and sleeping in the well padded van are the quarters. About 10:30 p.m. I pulled into a small town hoping to find a camp ground or Walmart. Instead I found a small grocery store still open.  I met an employee, Terry, stacking shopping carts and asked about sleeping in the parking lot. I told him  I was in search of rocks and rivers to photograph.  He invited me home to meet his family and discuss art. We drove to the  cross roads called Pleasant Valley, just south of Riverton, CT. This journey led me to some fine folks, Terry and Darlene (Pouchy) with some northern hospitality who allowed me a nights stay and some fine dining along the beautiful Farmington River.

 Early morning fog shrouded the wading fly fisherman, as I drove north to the lake where I had hopes of my finding my assignment. More disappointment as the lake did not hold the images I had hoped for, but many beautiful backroads and ponds with fall colors.




 I had to readjust my plan and recognize that this did not work out like I thought. I was feeling a bit discouraged in my quest. I felt this nagging like being skunked after fishing all day without a hit.

 There was something about the Kent area that I couldn't shake, I felt that I had to go back.  Even though the town was small, there was a hugh potential.

As  I walked around the town with my large portfolio, people would ask what I had and wanted to see some art. The conversation was always encouraging. I stopped by the coffee shop in town, where some locals were ending their day. After asking questions about directions to a certain gallery, a local guy asked what I had in the case. As I showed him some "fine art prints" photos he made some comments and a small crowd started to gather in the cafe.  One guy got up from an easy chair  in the back of the shop and handed me some literature of the art scene and said, "Welcome to the area, I'm Pete". I may be in the right place after all, I don't ever recall being welcomed into an area like that. Our conversation centered on the arts of that area, galleries and how I might fit in.


This is not what I expected to find, art galleries that housed famous artist whose paintings were about the 100k price. Fine furniture that sold in the 10s of thousands. I was able to transfer the purpose of the trip from photographing the area to marketing fine art prints. This was a new experience and purpose for this trip. I had the desire to travel thinking that my purpose was to get photos, when actually it turned out to be the marketing for art.

I have heard it said that "the journey is the destination."

Looking back I realized that I had allowed some disappointments to throw me off track for a period of time. I was stuck on a perceived failure instead of seeing new opportunities.
My weekend trip didn't turn out the way I thought it would but I see things differently now and can go with the flow a little better. I met some wonderful folks and got acquainted with an area that values art. I acquired a deeper appreciation for art and gained a better vision for what I could offer in my own work. I also realized that there can be hidden treasures within disappointment. I have an idea I will be back in that area to visit and hopefully establish some art connections.

Still learning to look at life from different angles.



Steve

There's a War?

It was mid August 09, a turning point in my journey of fine art photography. Lisa and I spent a weekend kayaking on the middle Youghiogheny River in Central Pennsylvania near Ohiopyle. We didn't do any major whitewater, I was looking for quite still water for reflection photos. We paddled a ten mile section and enjoyed the day.

I was unable to find the type of rock outcroppings I was looking for so being with good friends and enjoying the water was a reward in itself. We camped two nights in the van and enjoyed the different terrain and star shine that we don't normally see in our home area.

During the weekend I read a book by Steven Pressfield "The War Of Art". Not just for artists. I found it on the book list by Donald Trump. Steven, a seasoned warrior, opened my eyes to a new direction and discovery of doing "my work", of overcoming resistance, and self doubt in an endeavor.
This book was instrumental in the paradigm shift, like my photography, of seeing what is before me in a different view.  I finished the book on the way home, a quick read. I was inspiried to step into a new role and make a transition. Monday morning I still had the kayak on the van, I took my camera and lunch and headed off to work, on the river.


"Eternity is in love with the creations of time" William Blake  From "The War of Art" Steven Pressfield

There is always prayer during war, the book talked of praying to the muses, asking God to guide. Any great artist knows that it's a gift, something that is easy and flows in their life. So I prayed and asked for guidance to my objective of reflections on the water. I wasn't gone long, it didn't take all day to get what I was looking for.

" It's one thing to study war and another to live a warriors life."  Telamon  of Arcadia From "The War of ARt" Steven Pressfield

 I paddled out on the Susquehanna river to a familiar place but to a lower water level and found the reason for the trip. I can see rocks and water, but I see more than landscapes to photograph in nature. I did my work, I accomplished my given task for that particular moment. I found the shot from a distance and can mark the day as a turning point.

Since that time this photo has been an inspiration to me as well as an amusement to many people who have stopped by my art show booth. As I hang my photos on the wall in coffee shops and galleries I've had folks ask "They hung the photo all wrong" Then I hear the "Wow, do you see that face?"

 I like the images both portrait and landscape.



     There is a resistance, a struggle, the war still rages but I can recognize the enemy a bit better and understand the forces that try to deter me from my work. Some folks have mastered the war and others are still wondering where the war is.
What's your war? Who is the enemy? Where is the battle? It's not the family, or boss, job or finances. It usually lies with in.





"Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, magic,and power in it. Begin it now".W.H. Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition From "The War of Art" Steven Pressfield


 "The War of Art:" Steven Pressfield.

For more "Faces of the Susquehanna" check out www.vertizontalarts.com

Steve