It feels a bit weird to be back in a city.
I got home at ten this morning via train; haggard and smelly, tired of listening to the worriers sitting behind me. What a ride. I left Halifax Central yesterday noon. Nothing like a good, long train ride to provide a rolling backdrop for a period of quiet reflection.
What. A. Trip! Wild, refreshing, peaceful, delicious. And to think! Two days ago I was kayaking in the ocean and cutting through water ducking under the boom on a sailboat. Glorious.
Here is the first of many photos to come. Shot by Irma De Sie, in the midst of Race Night for sailboats at the mouth of the harbor in Lunenburg, Nova Scotia. Prairie woman on water, hilarious.
|Meg, Steve, Simon and Geof on Race Night in Lunenburg. Our boat came in third. Party.|
I shot and shot and shot some more. The architecture! Lost sea homes, standing proud, bellies to the salt spray. Simon and I climbed inside homes like this on Bell Island and after testing the strength of the floors like cats, we and shot around each other, surprising the other in forgotten rooms with curling rose wallpaper. Lenses for noses. Pulling cameras away from our faces, smiling. There was such delight in the freedom of each moment.
It was also really nice to shoot alongside someone with a very different eye. I would laugh every time we would race for our respective cameras at the same time. Eventually a gear table came to be and the range in equipment was impressive, not to mention the film stock between the two of us! Easy shootin'.
Two words: underwater cam. Two more words: icy Atlantic.
Days were easy on Bell Island. Coffee, CBC radio, book, paper, ink, rock, veranda, ocean. I wandered, letting my mind stray like a kite while following a deer path in the bush on a Thursday. The life! I hadn't felt so at home, so far from home in a long while. It was a wonderful time spent cooking in an incredible kitchen, reading, throwing horseshoes. No agenda, no pressure.
Grabbed my child sized mountain bike when I felt led and raced off on island roads, bombing hills like a pre teen. Party.
More stories to come.
Photos seem to take the place of words these days and with any luck, so will the batch to come. It is always thrilling to arrive home, organize my film and take an account of what was shot. I can never remember all the scenes frozen. Near the beginning of the holiday, I shot so many photos of my feet in different locations as the beauty of the east coast sea just blew my mind. I was so surprised to recognize so many of the species that make the bush boreal. Black and white spruce! Red and white pine, poplar, birch, ash. The list is endless. I love trees. And I fell in love with the sea.
Mind spinning. Good to be home!