Monday was the 2017 Great Solar Eclipse. Obviously I really wasn’t paying enough attention prior to
the event because I didn’t manage to acquire appropriate eyewear ahead of time.
Been too busy I guess. Also, I really thought I was already well equipped as I
have a welding shield that I was planning to use. Little did I know that welding
filters vary in degrees of eye protection. I learned last weekend most welding
helmets are constructed with a #12 filter; however, number 14 is the lowest
grade recommended for viewing the sun. Doh!
Sunday
evening found me searching for a box and a Youtube instruction video to
construct a pinhole viewing box; basically a pinhole camera without
photo-sensitive paper inside. I built one, and it worked, but boy, was it ever
inferior to viewing the event directly through a safe filter!
Here's Shauna modeling my home-made pinhole viewer.
On Monday morning we traveled to
Science World to at least view the spectacle with hundreds of other people. As
luck would have it, some generous people were letting others less fortunate
(like us) borrow their viewing glasses for quick glimpses of the slowly
unfolding event.
It really wasn't as hard as I make it look to find the tiny reflected image
of the sun inside my viewer.
I think what surprised me most is how much the
air temperature dropped as more of the sun disappeared from view. Officially it
was only a degree or so, but on our skin it felt like quite a few more.
Officially in Vancouver about 86% of the sun was covered by the moon at peak
eclipse. It’s also surprising how light it remained with only 14% of normal
sunlight striking the ground. I’ve since watched videos of how the daylight
diminished approaching the full eclipse, essentially producing night during the
day. It looks like it would have been a bit of a creepy experience, but none-the-less one I’d
like to experience. Maybe next time in eastern Canada in 2024.
This is about as good a view as was possible inside my home-made pinhole
viewer.
Unfortunately this quality of image is unattainable from a simple pinhole viewer.
To shift gears
entirely (pun intended) from Saturday’s full immersion salmon experience, Sunday
was car show day. The Great Canadian VW Show congregated on the paved area just
north of Science World. Hard to believe that site has been vacant for over 30
years now. For a few years, way back when, it played annual host to the
Vancouver Indy race; now it’s mostly used for parking semi-trailer trucks for stadium
events, and for siting such events as Cirque du Soleil. One of these days I'm sure there will be more highrises on the site.
Coincidentally since it's been about 30 years since Expo 86 occurred, I’ve been a VW (air-cooled) nut
for over 30 years. For some reason I just can’t shake that particular
addiction. Lots of split window Type 2s (vans) this year. They’ve skyrocketed
in price in recent years. Every time I see one I’m (painfully) reminded of the
one I bought around 30 years ago for $500. It was minus its engine and
transmission, but that was OK because my customization plans included removing
the stock gearbox and reduction gear assemblies to swap in a Beetle
transmission to greatly reduce the vehicle’s height. I was all about lowering
cars back then. Mine was a late ’55 model which meant it was the one of the
first ones produced after the “barn doors” (the engine lid was double the size
of later models) meaning, even then, that it wasn’t quite as valuable as an
early ‘55. This trip down memory lane was probably sparked by the very first
Volkswagen I saw through the fence on Sunday as I approached the event; a
lowered barndoor panel van sitting in the swap meet area. Not for sale mind
you; it was apparently driven there by a vendor.
This lowered barndoor panel was my favourite, and it wasn't even entered in
the car show portion.
This was by far the most colourful entry. But what's up with that exhaust pipe?
I was really hoping to see this panel van again. It was built by the same guy
responsible for the creation of Heb Rod. Subtlety is the van's strength I think;
not to mention the 2.7 litre Porsche 6 stuffed in the engine bay!
This Syncro completes VW's rear-engined van heritage. I'm really not interested
in their modern front wheel drive models. To me it's all about the classics!
2020 VW Microbus
Update: However, it would appear that all is not lost. I may not get back my beloved rear engine format, but as of today, Sept. 5, 2017, an electric Microbus has been unveiled. In all likelihood this one'll be all wheel drive to complement it's announced electric propulsion. It's even claimed that "driverless mode" will be an option. Despite that innovation (I really can't imagine me "not driving" at any point), sign me up to that waiting list!
On Saturday morning after jogging
our 7 km training segment for the (rapidly) approaching East Van 10K, and a
wonderfully big brunch afterwards, we finally settled on Saturday night to take
in a new visual projection about wild BC salmon that is being shown under the
north end of the Cambie Street bridge all summer. We’ve tried a couple of times
previously to see it but once it was a Nights of Fire fireworks night (not
playing), and another time it was a Sunday (not playing).
It’s an amazing
production, definitely recommended. It’s the same technology that we witnessed
in Beaune, France this summer. Every evening they project light shows on many
buildings in the village. The best one I saw was a cat running vertically up a
clock tower from bottom to top chasing a red laser dot, until the cat jumps
through a top floor window. The walls then appear to turn transparent revealing
the building’s interior and we see the laser dot transformed into a red ball
bouncing from landing to stair tread to landing until it reaches the ground.
This is the Beaune tower but I didn't get a photo of
the red ball bouncing down the stairs.
The Cambie Bridge presents an odd sensation in that the best viewing position is lying flat on one’s back looking up, because
if you think about it, you’re actually watching a stream flowing above you,
defying gravity. In other words it’s like a full immersion experience, like
you’re in the water with the salmon. The complete life cycle is shown in the
film starting with travel upstream to the spawning beds as a golden autumn umbrella
unfolds in a slightly water-refracted tree canopy above. Frantic motion of fish
tails burrowing into rocky stream beds ultimately leads to bright red fry
hatching, starting lives of their own. Completion of the lifecycle must
ultimately result in rapid aging and decay of the parent salmon. I didn’t realize how much I’d forgotten since I was a kid at school learning about them, but it
was certainly a surprise to see what jagged teeth the salmon skulls display as
they lie scattered on the stream bed.
Bubbles under the bridge.
Bubbles under the bridge.
Swimming with the fishes.
The salmon stream.
Autumn canopy.
Almost makes ya hum a few bar of the "Jaws" theme...
Once I was safety off the clock, I did some more exploring. I asked at the hotel front desk for some suggestions regarding where to find attractions of interest rather than following roads that led to lumber/pulp mills. Apparently all the interesting stuff is north of town.
Williston Lake.
At first I thought there was a bird of some sort in the trees, but it turned out
to be artistically placed deadfall.
I decided that since I'd received a free upgrade to an all-wheel-drive SUV, I might as well take advantage of it to traverse a few roads that a car may find uncomfortable; hence the mountain view site at Morfee Mountain Trail. I took the wrong turn-off the first time and drove through a gravel pit; definitely not it. The second time produced the ski-doo ramp I'd been told about, so I knew I was on the right road.
An abstract explosion of berries noticed en route to a mountaintop viewing spot.
Two communications towers on two distant peaks (centre; the right side tower
is hard to see in the photo). That's where we're going!
The view from close to the top. Again, looking like a Nissan commercial.
Not sure what these two metallic items are, located on a steep slope. They
look like remains of a UFO crash site, but more realistically they're likely
related to the communications tower higher up the slope.
There's Mackenzie with Williston Lake behind it.
A rainsquall near the northern end of Williston Lake.
Parts of the mountaintop appears somewhat lunar.
I watched a truck crawl up the moon-like far slope. From my perspective it
looked like bug. I would have compared it to a toy, but it was even far too
tiny for that. I've had to crop the photo even to be able to identify it.
A splash of rainbow appeared over the east mountains, although I have to
admit, it looked more impressive in person; more intense colours.
Leg Two of my northern BC trip is in Mackenzie. Never been here before. It's a pretty small place. I kept thinking there must be another portion of town as there seems to only be about 6 restaurants here. But nope. I did some driving around before dinner (which turned out to lessen my dinner choices as some eateries had already closed) but all I found were lumber and pulp mills at the ends of every road I drove down.
One bonus however was that I finally got a chance to photograph a pair of deer at the low sun angle of early evening. I'd encountered two instances of deer crossing the road today on the highway linking Dawson Creek and Mackenzie, but of course I was driving and couldn't get their picture.
These two were dining on roadside plants.
We mostly seem to have wasps at home in Vancouver, so it was an
opportunity for celebration to have a bee on my bumper. The magnification
of the dust on my bumper make it look almost like pollen.
I drove the Rogue rental to Morfee Lake and discovered it's rained here
pretty recently. Those aren't my tire tracks BTW.
Last evening I took a drive south of Dawson Creek to Swan Lake where
I indulged in abstract photography of a mushroom.
Traveling backwards in time, this on the way to Mackenzie yesterday.
Looks to me like it should be part of Nissan's advertising campaign.
I couldn't resist this (near) sunrise shot in Dawson Creek this morning
adjacent to Mile 0 of the Alaska Highway.
I look a lot more fatigued than I really was at Mile 0. It's not like I'd just
jogged in from Alaska; it was only a morning 5K.
Late last year, in December I think, we received a commission to conduct a PCA in Whitehorse. The weather wasn’t ideal, but I still wanted to see the city, considering I’d visited Yellowknife for similar business in the summer of 2015. I thought perhaps I’d witness the majestic northern lights, which is definitely on my bucket list.
But the trip kept getting postponed month after month after month. For good reason I suppose. After all, a winter assessment would mean plenty of snow cover, and since a Property Condition Assessment encompasses the roof and site features it’s almost like doing half a job if those items are obscured by a blanket of snow. Not exactly good value for the money.
Finally however, the job was approved to proceed. I like to think I played a small part in landing this job by initiating some good karma in the form of displaying a talisman of sorts in my office cubicle in about March; a “Yukon – Land of the Midnight Sun” license plate (you know, the one with the prospector panning for gold).
However, it’s already been seven weeks now since my trip to Whitehorse, a trip I’d anticipated for over half a year, and I have yet to blog about it. And there’s lots to blog about.
First off, before I left, a colleague recommended a restaurant that I should definitely check out for dinner. “Klondike Rib and Salmon” is apparently quite a bit deal. It was certainly my intention to partake in its culinary delights, but, interestingly enough, I struck up a conversation with a fellow traveler on the plane who gave me another recommendation, “Epic Pizza”, whose main attraction was an open mic night, which would occur on my first night in town. I figured I’d leave “Klondike” for night two. Unfortunately, a report deadline cut in to my leisure time and I ended up spending 8+ hours in the library, leaving me with time only for a quick sub sandwich dinner on the way to the airport.
Open mic night was hit or miss, which is fine. That’s probably quite common for its genre. But there sure was a wide range of talent. A couple members of a band called “Whiskey Epiphany” was in da house. Folky, but quite good. My musical tastes cover a wide range. A couple more acts followed, then a few guys were urged to get on stage and jam. The lead guitarist had an eastern European accent and really seemed to know some licks, and after a short discussion it was decided they’d play a Black Sabbath classic. All they needed was a vocalist…from Whiskey Epiphany. Folk meets metal (Molk? Fettle?). It was indeed “epic”.
Good thing I did my sight-seeing on my first evening or I likely wouldn’t have seen much. I’d heard about a suspension bridge near town and just happened to see a sign for it while driving around. It was already well past 10 pm and I was intending to stay up late anyway to witness the almost-midnight-sun that Whitehorse experiences, being located slightly south of the 24-hour-sun zone. Also, I’d brought along a small prop; a 1962 Yukon license plate that I bought about 20 years ago at a Lone Butte garage sale. It had adorned the interior of my Mom’s cabin at Horse Lake for a decade or so until she sold the place. I was looking for a scene in which to place my rental car, complete with the vintage “Prospector”. At the Miles Canyon suspension bridge parking lot I discovered just such an opportunity; the Whitehorse Parks sign.
Malibu time travel.
Miles Canyon suspension bridge.
The Yukon River flowing through Miles Canyon.
Sunset at 11:37 p.m., one day past the summer solstice.
Somebody must've paid the ransom on the North Shore mountains. They're back! I detected the faintest of mountain outlines at dinnertime tonight; the forest fire smoke is thinning. Then just now as I was taking Tannah on her evening neighbourhood rounds I noticed the lights atop Mount Seymour. It's been 10 days under this smoke blanket. Hopefully the air quality index will be more favourable tomorrow for our weekly 5K run.
Moon photos have been my obsession this
summer. When we were in Europe in July we experienced a full moon, and I could not get a clear distinct photo no matter
what I tried. It was especially frustrating as I have gotten a few good moon
shots in the past, but either they were complete flukes, or I’ve simply
forgotten the procedure. In service to that end the local enveloping forest
fire smoke has actually been of benefit to me. It spurred me forward to research
and practice moon photography.
A couple of nights ago I finally overcame my
last technical stumbling block and produced a good clear image that I was
satisfied with. Then yesterday I looked up sunset and moonrise times online and
realized they were forecast to be literally minutes apart. I figured I could
check off multiple boxes at once by going to Spanish Banks near sunset to see
how filtered the sun would be as it approached the horizon (because from my
deck the trees of QE Park prevent me seeing the sun’s final descent), the smoke
blanket hiding the north shore mountains, and the rise of the moon through the
smoke layer.
The vanishing setting sun.
It was surprising how high above the horizon the sun faded from view and how high the moon had to
climb before it was visible to photograph. The moon wasn’t visible at all as it
cleared the trees south of Spanish Banks. The official moonrise time for August
7 was 8:45 pm, but my camera sensor wouldn’t even register the lunar orb for about
another 25 minutes. Similarly with the sun, there was virtually nothing for my
camera’s sensor to detect as the sun dropped towards the mountains on Vancouver
Island. It gave me time to pack up early to hike my gear from the off-leash dog
beach to the east beach concession stand area.
Full-moon rise near the east concession stand at Spanish Banks.
This weekend I gave myself an assignment to teach myself a few new tricks on a couple of my cameras. One of them was to take a good shot of the moon, which is shown in a recent previous post. I'd taken a decent shot a few years ago of the moon, but recently I've been having great difficulty producing another one I'm satisfied with. Last night I had some success. The next task is committing the process to memory. Or iPhone notes. :-)
This weekend was a dedicated Staycation. Still recovering from our European vacation (we've been home for almost a month already! Where did the time go?).
Tannah found an ice cream sandwich store on Main
Street that she thinks she wants to try. I think she may
have to settle on sampling the water.
We had friends over for dinner last night, and, sitting on the deck, since we
could smell smoke anyway, we decided to evoke a campfire-ish environment
with a circle of candles. Our glass tabletop plays the role of a lake reflecting
campfire flames. There's ways around them campfire bans!
Our friends brought us fresh Chilliwack (domesticated)
blackberries and bright summer flowers.
Just can't seem to get away from these Citroens this summer. Not that
I mind, of course. A reminder of our vacation is always a good thing.
