Now, my partner, June and I plan to move part way around the globe to France. Instead of an eighteen-hour drive, it will be an eighteen-hour day flying across the world when we wish to visit family.

Why Leave

I would like to say it’s because my wanderlust has grown strong these past years, but no. While wanderlust is a contributor, the state of the States is the catalyst.

As legal resident of the USA, I don’t have the right to vote. Wouldn’t have made much difference if I did as the representatives I would vote for get elected without my assistance. We were going to assimilate into the Borg on a number of occasions, but something came up delaying the event.

So, here we are. Early twenty-twenty-six. The Mango Menace is threatening the world just so he can put his name on it.

The republican party is enabling his utter shredding of what was thought was law for fear of losing his favor.

The democrats aren’t much better. They haven’t been able to make life better for the common man even when they have enjoyed a majority.

I fear for the world my children and grandchildren are inheriting.

So… as an immigrant, I will vote with my feet. I will self deport my white, privileged ass out of this not so democratic shit-hole country (beauty is in the eye of the beholder.)

Why France

It would be so much easier to pack a truck and run home to British Columbia except for the price of housing. They are just as stupid expensive there as they are here in Washington.

We could keep our cars and be closer to family and friends right.

Well, not so much. North Vancouver, where my brother and sister live is totally out of the question. Homes cost north of one million. Move up the Fraser Valley, and housing costs decrease, but the distance to family and friends increases as does access to resources. We would gain a saner government, at the expense of long drives - no thanks.

I have an Irish passport through my mother. As Ireland is an EU member country, I have access to anywhere in Western Europe. We have chosen to begin a new adventure in the south of France.

In France we will have access to great medical care without fear of being rung out to dry by some insurance company. In France we will have the opportunity to live in communities where a car is an option, not a necessity. In France we will be able to explore the history of the western world.

In France we will experience Liberty, Equality, Fraternity. Not to say that France or its politics are perfect, but I would hope that a turd like Trump would never make it to Versailles. (Macron has his moments, but nothing like tRump.)

About the culture

We fully expect to have some adjustment issues. The language is the obvious one, but we had culture issues when immigrating to the US. While Canada and the USA are similar, they are not identical. We tripped over many stumbling blocks in our early years. You don’t know what you don’t know.

On the other hand, I think the French culture is the ultimate draw. The easy pace of life. Walkable cities. Regular outdoor markets. Easy and affordable transportation.

I expect to be able to strike up a conversation with a local, have a spirited debate about what stupidity is being put forward by Parliament today, and walk away as friends. I won’t have the fear that I might be shot because we disagree. Refreshing.

When

So, the plan is wheels up in April. Fly to Paris. Drive south to Toulouse and locate our new home somewhere between Montpelier and Bordeaux.

That’s the plan.

More to come…

This photograph speaks to me on a number of levels…

Obviously, it was shot in the autumn. I easily identify with the season as I am also in the autumn of my life.

I love the golden foliage on the trees. Gold suggests wealth and beauty. While I may not be rich, and my good looks may be fading, I feel wealthy for the life I have lived, and for the future years to come.

And then there is the way the aspen wander down the hillside. Their path suggests my own wanderings. They search for water in the soil. I search for the beauty in the world.

Captured in October of 2018, from the side of BC highway 97c, just south of Merritt.

Goodbye to a close friend

I lifted the box out of the back of my car. With mixed emotions I opened the door to the FedEx Office store. My heart was heavy as I placed the box on the counter, passed the shipping documents to the clerk, and wished my camera kit godspeed.

Five years I have enjoyed that Canon R6. Five years of improving my skills as a photographer. Giving it up is hard.

So, how did it come to this? Well, mostly cause my body told me to get real. In the past six months, I have been avoiding my friend. It’s heavy. It takes great photos, but it’s heavy.

A couple of years ago my knees decided my hiking, let alone my backpacking days were done. If I wanted to take banger landscape shots, they would be close to the road. Then I had a valve replacement, and a spark plug for good measure. Something had to change.

So, I bought a bike. The knees don’t complain so much about the rotary action of pedalling like they do with walking. My heart doesn’t complain about the exercise. It’s a good kind of workout. I won’t be joining the Lycra set, however.

When I was out hiking, my camera would be out. Ready to respond at a moment's notice. On the bike however, it’s different. I can’t have the camera bouncing off my body so it has to be in my bag. By the time I pull it out, the moment is gone.

Usually, Liddy and I ride the local rail trails. It’s fun, it’s refreshing, and we love being outdoors. While I’m trying to set a better pace, ten miles per hour is about as good as it gets, especially as Liddy is riding behind in our trailer.

When we are out hiking, I pay attention to the birds, the bees, the flowers, the trees. I get some good shots this way.

When I’m riding, I don’t see them. I don’t see those moments like I do while on foot. If I do see a moment, by the time I get stopped, get the gear out ready to shoot, the moment is gone.

Catalyst for change

We recently travelled to Germany to enjoy Christmas with our daughter’s family. I was thinking that I would be able to get some good photos and videos during our travels. In addition to the Canon and my smartphone, I brought along an action camera.

I have lots of video, lots of photos, but they are a disjointed mess because I couldn’t make up my mind as to what camera I should be using. I have a pretty good story, but I was shooting stills when I should have focused on the video and vice versa.

I’m disgusted with myself for schlepping around fifteen pounds of gear with not much to show for it.

A new beginning

So, is this the end of my photography career? Nope! Don’t think so.

Am I going to buy a smaller, lighter camera? Maybe a Fuji XT something, or a Ricoh GIII? Maybe an Olympus four thirds kit?

Nope. Not happening.

Instead, I’m going to upgrade my phone. I’m going to trade in my Samsung S21 for the latest Samsung S25 Ultra. Don’t think I’m buying an expensive smartphone; I’m buying a reasonably priced camera.

The S21 has a lot of good camera features that I have not taken the time to learn. Why would I when I have the Canon with me. Except when it isn’t.

The good and the bad

The truth is smartphone cameras fall short of what you can do with an interchangeable lens camera. The smartphone’s long lens isn’t long enough and there is no aperture control. Taking advantage of depth of field is challenging.

On the other hand, I always have my phone with me. Upgrading it to the S25 Ultra, the phone becomes my primary camera. As I will be using it all the time, I should be able to figure out how to take some bangers with it.

Another advantage to the smartphone is that they are invisible. Everyone has one. Everyone has them out in hand, so nobody sees them. Shooting locations in a crowded street, you’re not alone. It’s crazy really. Taking environment shots in a museum or restaurant. If you don’t enable your flash, you’re invisible.

I know the tiny sensors won’t enlarge to satisfy a sixteen by twenty print, and that is a shame as I do like a good print. On the other hand, mostly we display our product on these tiny smartphone screens or as wallpaper on our computer.

So. Goodbye old friend. Parting is such sweet sorrow.

“A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles.”
– Tim Cahill

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

This story is about me. It’s not about you. How can it be about you? I don’t even know you. So… about me.

A bit self-serving what? Well yes, it is.

But, by sharing my story with you, I want to pass on a few thoughts, a few ideas, that may be of benefit to those who care to listen.

We all know that life is a journey. We know the endpoints, where we began and where we will end. As has been said many times before, it’s what we do along the way that matters. We should make the most of it.

By today’s standards, my journey is not nearly over. Approaching three-quarters of a century with the probability of seeing the meter roll past one hundred. It’s amazing really. Not many years ago reaching sixty was a great milestone.

Mostly, I have enjoyed these past seven decades. I squandered my youth on my girlfriend, my love and my partner of over fifty years. The most important thing to me has been family. I have always put my family first.

It’s time for a midcourse correction. It’s time to put me first.

Well maybe I will keep the family in mind, but I am going to squeeze the most out of these next years and this is how I plan to do it.

The goal is to be happy. I want to be able to enjoy the things that make me happy, so the first order of business is my health. I need to ensure I am fit enough to enjoy this journey. I see my doctors regularly and I am not ashamed to bring my complaints to them. My doctors have responded by providing good solutions, and good guidance.

My stretch goal is to live forever. Probably not going to happen, but hey… dreams can come true.

A year ago, this month, I woke up in a cardiac intensive care unit. Waking up there was not a surprise. It was comforting to find myself back in the land of the living. A few hours earlier I had said goodnight to my partner and my son and went to sleep. My surgeon and her team sliced me open and replaced my Aortic Valve. Today, a simple valve job.

My recovery was on track to be just as simple except for this atrial fibrillation thing I have had going on for years. It became worse. The drugs I was taking to control the afib, were as bad as the problem. Not good. Back to the operating theater. Do they still call it that?

This time, while on the table, I went to sleep to the sound of my heartbeat resonating through a speaker… beep — beep — — beep — beep beep — beep. Totally irregular as I was used to. I woke up a few hours later the speaker reported a rather boring… beep — beep — beep — beep. Boring is good yes?

While I slept the team had pushed a catheter up my leg into my heart. They had sent a small cartridge up the catheter and dropped it into my ventricle. They also burned the electrical connection between the atrium and the ventricles. I will forever be paced by a small spark plug in my heart.

Well for as long as the battery holds out. Ten years I’m told.

Today, about nine months on, I am planning how I will take over the world. I feel great. I can peddle my bicycle twenty to thirty miles in a day and enjoy it. My forty-pound dog enjoys being taxied along in her trailer during those rides. No land speed records. I won’t be riding a century for a while yet, but soon.

The point is that I can plan to conquer the world because I am looking after ME. Selfish bugger that I am, I come first. It’s MY life. I want to enjoy it. I want to be able to love my partner, my dog, my kids and the rest of the world. Well, maybe not the entire world.

I can’t do that unless I’m healthy and neither can you. I don’t care if you’re an axe murderer. I mean really, how can you expect to swing that axe properly if you’re not healthy and fit, so get with the program. Eat better. Stay active. Keep your mind busy. Enjoy the occasional afternoon nap.

But most of all, enjoy your friends and family. (leave the axe in a tree)

Be the person your dog thinks you are. Be a superhero!

Sign up here for our free weekly newsletter featuring the best of Crow’s Feet: Life As We Age.

The Way It Was

Once upon a time, like last month, crossing into the United States with your dog was not an issue. Customs and Border Protection (CBP) didn’t care. For the eleven or twelve years we have been travelling with Liddy, I can’t remember being asked for her rabies certificate once. I’ve been hassled about her dogfood, but rabies certificate… not so much.

On our trip to Europe in 2022, we needed export papers signed and sealed by the US Department of Agriculture (USDA) dated no more than a week prior to travel. These export papers were required so we could import her into Germany.

Our vet recommended that we engage a service that would ensure all of Liddy’s documents were in order. Bringing her home… not so much because at that time, CBP didn’t care. Arriving in Seattle, the guys at the desk didn’t want to look at her even though I specifically asked if they needed any documentation.

This contrasts so differently from our arrival in Frankfurt. The customs agent was very helpful getting us processed. But. He was certainly diligent in his inspection of those documents that I had stressed over and paid a few coins for. We were glad to have them and glad to be able to walk out of the custom hall with Liddy at our side.

August 1st and Beyond

I didn’t hear about this until I was chatting with my sister. She lives in Vancouver, BC, Canada. We were going to visit and then take our biannual service dog assessment.

I haven’t heard anything on our local Seattle news about this. It may have come up, but I could have missed it.

What is it, you ask. Well, it is a new directive from the Center for Disease Control (CDC).

The CDC is tasked with keeping the people of the USA safe from… oh Diseases. Things like smallpox, polio, measles, Covid, and rabies.

It’s that last one, rabies, which is pertinent to this discussion.

According to the CDC, as of 2007, the US domestic canine population is rabies-free. Rabies is still alive in the wild, showing up in squirrels, bats, and raccoons, from time to time, but not in our domestic pets.

This situation is credited to the requirement that our domestic pets be vaccinated against rabies with a booster every three years.

The CDC reviewed the US import regulations in 2024 and realized that the risk of introducing a rabid dog is greater from outside the US than inside.

The new directive requires that all dogs imported into the US on or after August 1st must meet some basic requirements. Requirements similar the ones in place to bring a dog into Germany.

What Requirements, and Why do I Care?

Most of my family lives in Vancouver, BC, Canada. A weekend trip to visit my brother or sister will require crossing an international boundary, entering Canada from the US. This has never been a big deal. Canada hasn’t put any policy in place for dogs except you may need to show proof of vaccination.

The kerfuffle will happen on the way home. On the return trip, we will be importing Liddy back into the US, so the new CDC rules apply. We will need:

• A Certification of US-Issued Rabies Vaccination

• A recent photo of our dog, Liddy showing the face and body

• Liddy’s microchip number

• A copy of the CDC Dog Import Form Receipt

The receipt needs to be printed after completing the import form on the CDC website. Note that I said printed. A copy on your phone won’t cut it. The receipt will be emailed to you, so you need access to that account as well.

The complete set of instructions are available on this page on the CDC website: Required Documents for Bringing a Dog into the United States

Note that if you don’t live in the US, or if you travel to one of several countries considered high risk for rabies, there are additional requirements, so read these pages closely.

Your vet may not be aware of these new cross border requirements. When I asked mine, the advice I received was that I should contact the service that we used when taking Liddy to Germany. Not a satisfactory answer to someone who travels to the great white North five or six times a year.

What to do

The CDC forms became available on July 15th. After reading the instructions described on their website, Required Documents for Bringing a Dog into the United States, I don’t think it is as big a deal as it will be if the form isn’t completed. The biggest issue is knowing the port of entry before completing the form. I have a choice of three and I like to use the one with the least traffic. The completed form can be revised, but that damned receipt must be printed. I don’t keep a printer in my car.

So, we are ready. The vet assures me that Liddy’s Rabies Certificate has been registered with the USDA. It has her microchip number on it. I have a photo of Liddy on my phone to upload to the form. I can fill out the CDC form from my phone before we leave our host’s home, or I will find a shop that will print it for me. Check. Ready.

For the moment, I will be happy if this article helps a fellow traveller from being blindsided on returning home from a trip abroad with their canine companion.

“A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles.” – Tim Cahill

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

It’s Sunday morning.

Liddy woke me at 6:45 this morning. Something about a canine snout in your face that makes you take notice.

Get up — get dressed — go downstairs — unlock the kitchen door — she goes out to do her business.

Now she demands her breakfast. I ask her to close the kitchen door while I get her meal, which is quickly dispatched. This is why she got me out of bed so early — she was hungry.

Ok, now it’s my turn.

First coffee. I haven’t had a coffee for a couple of days because of a bout with the flu, one of the gifts my partner brought home from a sewing conference in San Francisco last week.

Cappuccino made. Put some frozen blueberries in a bowl. Add yogurt. Top the bowl with Cheerios. Toss some Cheerios at Liddy — God help me if she doesn’t get hers.

Sit. Enjoy the view of the garden with breakfast. It’s a wonderful time to meditate about the joys of the morning.

A hummingbird flits by, sampling the crocosmia lucifers in the garden.

Time to move on. Go fetch the pharmacy drawer from the bathroom. Portion out the pills for each day of the week. This is one ritual I could do without. Oh well. They have kept me going this long. The other option isn’t really an option.

Second Cappuccino. It’s a bit bitter. I’ll have to fix that. Not right now though, my four-legged friend is demanding attention. She wants to go for a run. She has been cooped up in the house while my partner and I struggled through this damned flu. Oh yeah, she was also doped up because of the July fourth Armageddon this week. She is really freaked by the explosions made by fireworks.

Enough.

It’s time we indulge ourselves with a ride.

Lord knows, with Liddy being 13, and me at 72, I’m going to indulge us as much as we can.

Life is meant to be lived, so live it well!

Sign up here to receive our free weekly newsletter featuring the best of Crow’s Feet.

Some Background

It was early — five thirty in the morning I think — I hadn’t slept well. Too excited.

I was excited about finally loading up the Brompton and heading out on an overnight adventure. An adventure that had been in the making for over a year.

Plan A was to go to France and cycle EuroVelo 17, the ViaRhôna. We would join the route in Geneva and follow it down to the Mediterranean Sea.

Unfortunately, life got in the way and the trip didn’t happen.

Nine months later, health issues are under control. My cardiologist doesn’t want to see me till next year.

Looking for a New Challenge

Not ten minutes from our house is the Foothills Trail in Pierce County. I can’t think of a better exercise program than riding this. It’s wide, it’s paved, and it has some reasonably steep grades. I mean it’s perfect and as my fitness level improved, the challenges it presents… well they are no longer challenges.

When training for the ViaRhôna, I searched for local cycle paths that might be comparable to it. Here in the Puget Sound region of Washington, there are plenty of suitable trails. We cycled around the south end of Lake Washington. Up the west side to I-90, crossing the lake on the floating bridge, then back to Tukwila on the east side. Cycling around Lake Sammamish was also a good ride. We also cycled twenty-five kilometers out and back along the Snoqualmie Valley Trail.

These are great rides but … They are, shall we say, too good. By that I mean that the surface is well packed if not paved. I question if these are good trails to measure one’s abilities. How well will we do on a looser surface? Oh, and there are no places to camp overnight. Another requirement when training for longer bikepacking trips.

I was looking for a new challenge. A rougher trail and an overnight camp.

Ride the Willapa

I have been searching the web for rides which would be fun. A sponsored ride with a twenty-five-to-thirty-kilometre distance. With a campout being involved, at the beginning or during the ride, didn’t matter. Oh, and because I tour with Liddy and our trailer, being off busy roads was also a requirement.

I found quite a few opportunities. Unfortunately, the local ones are one-day affairs, or are intended for the Lycra set. Something Liddy and I, on our Brompton, are not.

It showed up in my Facebook Feed. Ride the Willapa, only an hour’s drive from home. It checked all the boxes. Long ride for the endurance nuts, shorter rides for the casual types, and the opportunity to camp out. Perfect! I signed up for the ride with the campout option.

The Willapa Hills Trail is an abandoned railroad right of way that follows the Chehalis River from the town of Chehalis to Pe Ell and then along the Willapa River into Raymond and South Bend. This is a Washington State Park. The section from Chehalis to Pe Ell is ok for most bikes, from Pe Ell to Raymond is considered unimproved.

Should you choose to take part in this event, the organizers provide drayage services (courtesy of the local UPS office) to take your camping equipment from the Chehalis trailhead to Rainbow Falls State Park and back. For an added small fee, dinner and breakfast are included.

Self-Contained

As I was looking to test myself and my equipment, I chose to forgo the drayage service, packing all my equipment, and Liddy, on the Brompton and Chubby Trailer.

Liddy shared the trailer with our tent and a small chair. My sleeping gear, change of clothes, and food were packed in a thirty-liter drybag supported between the saddle and the rear rack of the Brompton. The front bag held my Canon R6, a stove with fuel, rain gear, water, and snacks.

Who travels without electronics these days? My cell phone and a GoPro were mounted on the handlebars connected to a power brick in the front bag.

Add Liddy’s twenty-kilos and my hundred … a substantial load for our Brompton, methinks.

Pedaling to Rainbow Falls

As I said previously, Rainbow Falls State Park was our destination, twenty-five or so kilometers (16 miles) from Chehalis as the bicycle wheel turns.

The first nine kilometers (5 miles) are paved with the steepest climb being the one to the top of the highway six overpass at Steams Road, about five kilometers. This is a nice bridge that makes crossing the highway so much safer.

After the Adna Trailhead, we cross the Chehalis once again. The Chehalis wanders back and forth across the valley. We cross the river three times. The second time, just west of Adana, the pavement ends, and the crushed gravel surface begins. They call it compacted gravel, but I would call it sharp marbles on hard pan. I’m sure this was done to make you want wider tires on the bike.

From Adna, we began a long, slow, steady climb. No huge elevation gain here, just a constant push against the pea gravel under the tires. The rest stop at Ceres Hill was a welcome respite.

Lest you think that the rest stop is at the top of the climb, not so. The trail continues north until finally swinging west where we get to enjoy the daisies in farmers' fields along a long straight stretch. Truly, this is a flat ride. The total elevation gain to the park is only seventy meters (230 feet).

Twenty-five kilometers (16 miles) done, and we arrive at the ride’s welcome center at Rainbow Falls State Park. Liddy helped me set up our tent and then she went swimming in the Chehalis River just below the falls. I didn’t pack a swimsuit, was too weary to pack the camera along to the river, so no images (that’s my excuse anyway)

I’ve included a photo that I took of our rig while on the Foothills Trail so you can get an idea. Not shown in this photo, there was a drybag hung between the saddle and the rear rack.

Dinner was good. Fresh cooked bratwurst with sauerkraut on a bun. Dessert was some brownie bites with mixed berries.

Because Liddy is a house dog, she wore a heavy sweater in lieu of a sleeping bag. She also claimed the foot of my — our air mattress. Seems she had had enough of the pad in the trailer thank you very much. Even so, I slept well. On waking at midnight to use the facilities it struck me how coordinated the snoring was in the surrounding tents.

Returning to Chehalis

We struck camp early. It had rained during the night and was still raining lightly so the tent was packed wet before loading into the trailer.

A breakfast of pancakes, sausage patties and scrambled eggs was enjoyed with a young family from Centralia. Some good conversation and several cups of coffee later, it was time to take our leave. We found our way to the trail leading out of the park, back to the Willapa Trail. The park’s connecting trail is quite pretty.

On reaching the trail, we turned east, looking forward to an easy downhill run back to Chehalis. The sky promised more rain and a few miles later it was delivered, but not too much, just enough to be annoying.

On the previous day, I noticed this spot as a possible photo opportunity. I tried to capture the tiger lilies with the rapids behind. I don’t think it works as well as I wanted. It was raining as we crossed the first bridge over the Chehalis. This view down the river was softened courtesy of raindrops on the lens.

That’s a Wrap

When I look at videos people have taken while touring Europe by bike and compare their reports to what we can experience here in the northwest the first thing I think of is campsites and services. Their cycle tourism support industry is huge. Here, not so much. There were over 300 people participating in the Ride the Willapa event. According to the ride organizer, over 100 of those stopped in and bought an ice cream from a shop in Doty, halfway to Pe Ell from Rainbow Falls. Nice sales courtesy of a bunch of silly cyclists.

Well, I think I accomplished what I wanted. We journeyed fifty kilometres (32 miles) with a fully loaded bike. The pace was slower than expected because of the trail surface. The Brompton’s rear tire is done, the sidewall is bulging, ready to pop. Probably coarse gravel and the load caused it as there is only about one thousand kilometers (600 miles) on the bike. It didn’t break, so we were able to ride all of the way back, but it was close.

So, met great people, learned some things for the future and had a great ride.

Liddy was pretty happy with the weekend too.

“A journey is best measured in friends, rather than miles.”

– Tim Cahill

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

I recently had the opportunity to come to grips with my mortality. Open heart surgery and inserting a pacemaker will do that to you.

I will start with the valve job. My aortic valve was done. Calcified. Needed to be replaced. My partner and I consulted and decided full open-heart surgery was the way to go. Crack open the chest, snip out the old valve, then insert a shiny carbon-titanium one. Month or so of recovery, then done. Less trauma to get one of the newer pig skin valves, but they only last a bit over ten years. Mine is good for thirty or more.

Prior to the valve, there was the permanent Atrial Fibrillation. A-Fib is a condition where your heart won’t keep to a regular rhythm. Just forgot how to dance. Twenty years ago, they didn’t know many of the things they know today, so the treatment was drugs. Better living through chemistry.

My cardiologist prescribed channel blockers and beta blockers. These things have horrid side effects. They cause dizziness, lightheadedness, weakness, nausea, flushing, constipation, headache, depression, and mood swings, to name a few. But these horrid pills have kept my ticker running at close to a normal rate.

Cardio rehab is an exclusive gym membership made available after cardiac surgery. You go to a supervised work out twice a week. A trainer is assigned to help you work out properly and to make sure you aren’t straining your heart. You will wear a portable electro cardio monitor allowing the trainer to keep an eye on your heart rhythm. Did I mention that I hate treadmills?

When experiencing A-Fib, the heart doesn’t behave like normal. A normal resting heart rate is considered to be between 60 to 100 beats per minute (bpm). My resting heart rate was usually around 80 bpm. Start a workout and that rate could jump up to 180 or higher. After a workout, the rate is expected to drop below 100 fairly quickly. For me, not so much.

One morning, after walking across the parking lot to the gym, my heart rate was over 100 bpm. The trainers were a wee bit concerned and didn’t want to let me work out without first being cleared by a cardiologist. They escorted me downstairs to consult with one. A full electrocardiogram (ECG) was ordered. Come back next week and repeat the ECG. Based on the observations from the ECGs I was referred to a Cardio Electrophysiologist — who makes up these names — really. Let’s just use CEP.

On visiting the CEP, he was ready to drop a pacemaker into my heart, then burn the electrical connection between the atria and the ventricles. This would free the ventricles from the misbehaving atria. I would still have a-fib, but it wouldn’t matter because the ventricles, the bigger chambers, would be paced by the pacemaker at a controlled rate.

This solution is a one-way street. Once on the pacemaker, always on the pacemaker. A door is closed. I chose to see if we could bring things back under control with more drugs. Ok, we can try that. Double the dose of beta blocker and get back on the treadmill. After a month, it was obvious that chemistry wasn’t going to do the job.

So, back to the operating room. I lay down on the table and was hooked up to the “Machine That Goes Ping” [1]. This was my heartbeat being repeated over a speaker. My “Ping” was more like… Ping — Ping — — — PingPingPing — Ping. And that is what I heard as I fell asleep.

While I was sleeping, the CEP and his team inserted a catheter into my leg, pushing it up and into my heart. The pacemaker was pushed up through the catheter and dropped into my heart. The same magic was used to ablate my AV node, divorcing my atria from my ventricles forever.

On waking up, the “Ping” was very regular. Ping — Ping — Ping — Ping … quite boring, really. The fact that I was awake, and the regularity of the “Ping”, I’ll take boring, thank you.

Ok, the drugs. On discharge from the hospital the next day, I was instructed to stop taking my blockers. That beta blocker and the channel blocker with all those side effects. Didn’t have to tell me twice.

First couple of days were good. Then the withdrawal began. Lots of chest pain, lots of just plain feeling shitty. I was wondering if the cure was worse than the disease.

A bit of research and I learned I should not have gone off these drugs cold turkey. Even after three weeks, the withdrawal symptoms were there, being annoying. Just not fun!

I’m cool now, right? Well, yes and no. The valve job and new spark plug are working fine, so physically, yes, I’m cool.

However, just as I was thinking about getting on with life — to get out and train on my bicycle — Liddy decides to have issues with her hind legs. She started having trouble jumping on the couch, climbing the stairs, and let’s not ask her to jump on the bed.

Off to the Vet. Full set of X-Rays of her rear legs. Vet found nothing he could say was the problem. We went home with arthritis medication and angst. It would be several days before the X-Ray analysis would come back.

After all the crap I have gone through in these last months, this had to be the worst.

Keeping Liddy from doing things that might make her condition worse was easy because I was moping on the couch beside her. I recognized that I was a depressed wreck. Not pretty.

Meanwhile, as I was experiencing how much she means to me, she was healing and getting over it. She was more or less back to her normal self before we received the X-Ray analysis. We don’t know what the problem was. The X-Rays came back with no obvious issues.

We were out on the Foothills Trail a week later and she was trotting along at better than eight miles an hour. Kept it up for half a mile or so before I had her jump into her trailer. So, Liddy is fine.

I guess I am too. Life goes on. When it’s time, it’s not about the one who left, it’s about the heartbreak of those left behind. I’m ready for the time when the fates snip my strings, but damn! It’s going to be hell when they take Liddy.

[1] Reference to Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

It was a glorious Sunday; mid-April as Liddy and I began an adventure into the wilds of Seattle. Daffodils and tulips are popping out in all their glory.

The past six months have been a wee bit of a challenge because of health issues. I managed to survive the Pandemic only to experience a valve job in November and the insertion of a small spark plug this month. No roving expeditions to the wilds of Montana or Utah for me this spring. While this old bag of bones gets used to its new parts, Liddy and I will be enjoying places closer to home.

This past weekend, for example, Liddy and I left the Prius at the SeaTac Park and Ride. We jumped on a Link Light Rail train, taking it north to Westlake Station. Westlake is in the heart of Seattle and is a convenient place to begin wandering. Lots of shops if you are into that. The monorail terminal is part of Westlake Center and can be ridden to Seattle Center where the Space Needle, Experience Music Project and Climate Pledge Arena are located.

I had already decided to go down to the waterfront. Armed with my Canon R6, sporting a 35 mm lens, I was looking for some interesting subjects. Perhaps some street photography, or simply photos for a travel essay.

From Westlake, we strolled west along Pine and on reaching 1st, turned south towards Metsker Maps, located between Pine and Pike Streets on 1st Avenue. I have been wanting to explore the shop to see how extensive their collections of maps and other products they offer. I found they have an extensive array of travel books as well as maps for most anywhere in the world.

Liddy was noticed and spoiled by the staff (owners?) with biscuits and attention. She loves to go shopping. (I don’t wonder why.)

Pike Market Entrance

From Metsker Maps we continued south on 1st, restraining the urge to enjoy a snack at The Crumpet Shop. Taking a few steps further and rounding the corner onto Pike Street, we arrived at the Iconic Pike Place Market.

Just inside the market entrance, on the left, is the Pike Place Fish Market. This is the home of the famous flying fish. When things get a bit slow, market staff will pick up a salmon, shout and fling that salmon across the shop to another associate. Not quite like a basketball game, but close. Some poor salmon might fly across the shop several times. This, of course, causes excitement and cheers from the spectators which, in turn, draws in more potential customers. Usually, some members of the crowd will purchase a slightly abused (tenderized?) salmon.

Not The Pike Place Fish Market, but another one of the number of fishmongers in the market. I really like stuffed salmon cooked on the bar-b-que. Perhaps I will pick one up for a celebration this summer. I’m drooling just thinking about it.

This day was, as I said, in mid-April. A bit early for the crush of crowds you may find at the market, but just right for the spring flowers. Like myself, many people were capturing the dizzying display of colours. Some even walked away with pretty bouquets in their hand.

It was hard not to notice this well-dressed young lady and her companion enjoying the display of flowers. I’m always interested in other people with cameras and how they take advantage of a situation for good shots. Can you say Instagram? I’m quite happy with this shot of the couple chimping their camera. Engrossed in their shots and discussing how to improve them no doubt. I like the way I caught them framed between two ladies strolling up the aisle.

Liddy and I crossed through the market to the west side where we were able to view some of the construction happening along Alaskan Way.

As you can see big changes are happening here. Back in 2019, the Alaskan Way Viaduct was removed as the Highway 99 Tunnel had recently opened and now takes the Viaduct traffic under the Seattle Waterfront. There is going to be huge amounts of open space with great views of the Olympic Mountains and Puget Sound. Exciting.

Liddy and I found our way down to the stairs of the Pike Street Hill Climb.

The Pike Street Coffee Shop is tucked in under the stairs and Liddy was telling me it was time for a drink so we went in.

An interesting gentleman was sitting in a corner of the shop. He was neatly framed by the windowpane in front of him. I couldn’t bring myself to shoot him and capture the moment because I felt I would be intruding on his moment.

In retrospect, I should have taken the shot and then used that as an excuse to introduce myself and perhaps strike up a conversation. Until I can figure out how I want to deal with these opportunities — build up my confidence — I will not feel that I am an accomplished street photographer.

A portrait of Liddy will have to do.

Having enjoyed our refreshments at the coffee shop, we ambled down to Alaskan Way. There is so much construction activity here.

In addition to creating new pedestrian causeways, connecting Pike Place Market to the waterfront, the city has had to replace the pier that was Waterfront Park. This park is located between the Seattle Aquarium and Seattle’s Great Wheel. It is a popular place on days like today. On a sunny summer day, you might be musicians or other entertainers performing here. Hopefully, the rebuilt park will be ready to go before the tourist season gets into full swing.

Looking south you will see the arches over Lumen Field and the Marion Street pedestrian causeway. The causeway is located at the Coleman Docks Ferry Terminal. You can take a sea cruise from here across Puget Sound to Bainbridge Island, or Bremerton, on a Washington State Ferry.

Turn around and look north, you see the construction along the waterfront and the causeways that will connect Pike Place Market to the wide promenade that Alaskan Way is becoming.

I am very excited about the changes to the Seattle Waterfront. There are so many interesting sites to see, and world-class restaurants to enjoy. So much space has been provided for people to walk along the waterfront. We chose to use the Marion Street Causeway to cross Alaskan Way so that I could take advantage of the view.

I think the changes we saw on our wander are great. I think they will improve Seattle’s reputation as a walkable city, making it a world-class place to visit.

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

Sometimes, just like a prepubescent teen, our planet shows signs of acne. You remember that horrid period of your life when you would look at your face in the mirror and find new boils popping up on your nose. Horrid memories…

The earth has many hot boils across its surface. We usually refer to them as volcanoes and rather than being repulsed by them, they hold us in awe.

Here in Washington State, we have a collection of dormant volcanoes, including Mt. Baker, in the north, Mt. Rainier, southeast of Seattle and Mt. Adams further southeast near Yakima. Mt. St Helens sits south of Mt. Rainier and west of Mt. Adams. As St Helens erupted within the last fifty years, I don’t believe it is considered dormant.

The thing about volcanos is that they are beautiful. Put volcano into a conversation and we immediately envision snow-covered, cone-shaped mountains reaching up into the sky. It is an iconic vision even if we have never seen one up close. Looking at these photos of our local volcanos, I trust you understand what I mean.

The other thing that attracts us to volcanos is their absolute power. Before exploding, Mt. St Helens had a cone shape similar to Rainier and Adams. The top of the mountain exploded outward and fell into the valley below. Lakes and streams were diverted or created.

When Mt. St Helens erupted, we lived in Kamloops, BC, over five hundred miles north of the mountain. I remember the volcanic ash that was deposited on our streets and driveways. There was a constant fallout of ash onto the cities of Yakima and Portland which was a major safety issue. It was an amazing display of the power that lies beneath our feet.

Currently living within thirty miles of Mt. Rainier, my mind frequently wanders to the question of when it will become active again and erupt. I am always speculating about what the impact would be on the Puget Sound Region.

When we visit the island of Hawaii, I always like to check the status of the Kilauea Volcano, southeast of Kona. I want to know if it is active, and where the show is.

A word of caution, sulphur dioxide, ok, two words. Kilauea Volcano and the others surrounding it have high concentrations of sulphur dioxide emissions. This gas is very toxic. If you will be observing eruptions, please consult the Hawai’i Volcanos National Park website for current conditions before you go.

In 2009, we hiked over a mile across fresh lava fields to see the amazing site of hot lava reaching the Pacific Ocean from the Puʻu ʻŌʻō crater. According to Wikipedia, the flow was through tubes just below the surface.

As the night grew darker, the pyrotechnics became brighter and brighter. An awesome sight caused by the lava flowing into the Pacific Ocean.

I find the resilience of life simply amazing. So much of the forest knocked flat by the eruption of Mt. St Helens has since regrown.

In Hawai’i, where you might walk out onto the relatively fresh lava fields, you will find plants putting roots into the cracks and clinging so hard to survive. Mosses and ferns and in Hawai’i, the ohia lehua, one of the first trees to take root in the lava fields.

Don’t pluck the red Lehua, if you wish for weather fair

Tis Pele’s sacred flower, which she guards with jealous care

Her Akuas all are watching, and to her they will complain

For surely as you do it, she sends down the rain

Our last visit to Hawai’i was in February of 2021. This photo on the US Geological Service, shows the lava lake in Halema‘uma‘u Caldera from the western rim of the crater, looking eastward. The public viewing area, managed by the National Park Service, is on the northern edge of the Halema’uma’u Caldera.

We were prevented from getting close enough to the caldera’s edge to look down into the crater for fairly obvious safety reasons. What we did do, was wait. We waited until after the sun had set and the glow from the lava lake 1600 feet below lit up the clouds of smoke and ash venting out of the earth.

Gazing at this it is hard not to feel that one is not standing on the edge of oblivion.

Other articles in Globetrotters about Volcanos:

Shelley Rohm

That Time Pele Smote Me
You don’t mess around with the fire goddess.medium.com

M T Sutphin

Visit Mountain Saint Helens
The story of America’s most violent volcano.medium.com

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

Have you ever had the occasion to encourage someone to take a long walk off a short pier? I kinda like the phrase and have used it in jest more than once when someone has been a little irritating.

Some of my readers will know that I recently underwent surgery to replace my aortic valve. The operation was a success, but the patient has been a bit of a mess. Nothing like a little heart surgery to get you thinking about the end game. Thinking thoughts that take you into some deep and dark places. Thoughts that are not fun or helpful. I have refused to write woe-is-me stories.

So… What about this pier then?

This is a pier in Kitsap County, the Harper Fishing Pier. Seattle is on the other side of the sound, way past the end of the pier.

I like this shot. It is a long exposure so the ripples on the water have been smoothed away. Restful. This image is in the collection of wallpaper that graces my computer screens. I was in one of those reflective moments and I thought about that long walk off a short pier saying. Turning it around, I thought, we could wish for someone to enjoy a long walk to the end of a long pier.

Another shot I like is this one of Oceanside Pier in Oceanside, California. A very popular holiday destination.

Again, I used long exposure to calm the waters making a more restful image.

Oceanside Pier has a shop and restaurant at its end. A destination beckoning visitors to enjoy their walk to the end of this pier.

I didn’t take photos of the view from either of these piers beyond the end because… well there isn’t much of a view, just a broad horizon way out in the distance.

I did, however, take photos looking back down the pier. A view of where we came from.

So… this is my metaphor. Comparing life to a walk down a pier.

We don’t know when we will reach the end, but we know we will. We should enjoy turning and looking back along the way we have come. We should savour our defeats and our victories. Celebrate the many accomplishments and friendships we have made along the way. I pray we can accumulate many more before reaching the end of our pier.

I know, given my age, that I am approaching the end of my pier. But I haven’t reached a railing limiting my journey or a sign not to enter. That is still shrouded in the foggy mystery that is the future. To be honest, the end of the pier is not exciting to me. It’s all about the long walk to get there.

There is still roving to be done!

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

Sign up here to receive our free weekly newsletter featuring the best of Crow’s Feet.

January Six Word Photo Story Challenge: FUN

Life is an adventure. Live it!

On one of our many good days last summer. Liddy and I are on a footbridge across the drive to the Vashon Island Ferry dock below. The bridge connects Ruston Way and Point Defiance Park.

Twenty-twenty-four is looking to be a year of New Beginnings. In November, I received a new aortic heart valve, and I am recovering from that. December saw the arrival of a Surface Pro Tablet. And last week, my Canon R6 came home from the repair shop looking like it was brand new.

Start with the R6.

Some months ago, I dropped my R6 while my 100–500mm lens was attached. The 100–500 did not appreciate the tumble and was sent off to the Canon repair shop (Ka-ching). It came back, as I knew it would, all shiny and bright. Ready to go. The R6 soldiered on until just before Christmas when it started throwing an ERR 70 message. A bit of research and I knew I would be invoking my Canon Professional Services (CPS) membership yet again (Ka-ching).

Repair Complete Comment:

Your product has been examined and it was found that the circuit board had been impacted causing the unit to display an error 70 message. The main circuit board and top cover ass’y was replaced. Product functions were confirmed.

The camera arrived home late last week, and I wasted no time testing it out. Yep, the Error 70 message has been vanquished. Because the main circuit board was replaced, all of my configuration settings have vanished. It’s like I have a new camera. Yikes! My personalized settings — gone.

On the bright side, this has forced me to review all of the features of the R6 again. Watching many YouTube videos and many consults with the manual. I haven’t finished configuring all of the settings yet. There are quite a few. My appreciation of this fine camera has just been reinforced as I work through this exercise.

So, a new beginning for my Canon R6.

A New Surface Pro Tablet.

Some years ago, I purchased an HP Spectre Laptop. Fifteen-inch 4K display, 16GB of RAM. Pretty solid device. Pretty weighty device. Not a device I want to throw in my pack and go travelling with.

The Spectre hosts Lightroom Classic and Photoshop. In addition to being my main image processing tool, Lightroom Classic keeps track of all of my images and videos. I wish Adobe would put better video support into Lightroom. Oh well.

Before Christmas, Microsoft was clearing their inventory of Surface Pro 7s for the same price as a Surface Go with a keyboard. We bought two of the Pro 7s. One for my wife, and one for me.

Yes, I know, these are two model releases behind the current one, but hey, let’s consider the use case. I’m replacing a three or four-year-old Android-based Samsung Tablet which I have been using as my travel device.

I don’t plan to use the Surface for any major editing. I installed Lightroom Desktop on it. This is the newer Creative Cloud edition of Lightroom which is heavily dependent on an internet connection to Adobe’s servers. The latest release of the desktop module now has a local mode in addition to the cloud mode. This means that you can use the tool while offline. Because Lightroom Desktop does not use a database catalogue to track files as Lightroom Classic does, the issue of conflict between two catalogues is avoided. I can choose to send the images to Lightroom Classic via the Adobe Cloud sync function, or just import them when I return home.

Truth is, there is a lot of functionality in Lightroom Classic that is not in Lightroom Desktop or Lightroom Cloud. For instance, I rename all my files with a format that puts the capture date in front of the camera-generated name. This ensures that all files have a unique name and aren’t going to be written over by mistake. There doesn’t seem to be a file renaming function in Lightroom Desktop let alone a renaming function on import.

I expect Adobe will address most of the gaps between the two applications eventually. In the meantime, I can use Lightroom Desktop to do my in-the-field culling and initial edits. To address the file naming issues, I have purchased an upgrade to an old friend, Downloader Pro by Breeze Systems. I used this app for years until I surrendered to the options in Lightroom Classic deciding they were good enough.

Downloader Pro will download images from the camera cards and use the EXIF metadata to rename files and save files to folders according to my directions. It works really well, and now that I have reason to use it again, I will be exploring how I want the image files stored on the Surface. And how it will flow through to Lightroom Classic.

For those readers who feel the need to say Apple is better than Microsoft, I will say that they may be right but after forty-five years of Windows, I’m not about to find out.

So, a new workflow. Download files from my cameras using Downloader Pro. While travelling, do my edits and culling with Lightroom Desktop on the new Surface tablet. Import the final set of files into Lightroom Classic when back at my desk.

A Valve Job.

In late November my aortic valve was replaced with a bright shiny new one. (I assume it is bright and shiny, I wasn’t awake to approve their choice 😊) I am told it will be good for at least thirty years. I hope so because I plan to be a nuisance to my friends and family for a long time to come. I also hope to take advantage of the extension I have just been given to get out and explore more places and have more fun.

So, new beginnings. A newly refurbished camera. A new tablet computer. A new lease on life. What a way to start the new year!

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

January Six Word Photo Story Challenge: FUN

Take some time. Smell the Roses

I have been a wee bit distracted these past weeks. December was a bit of a challenge as I was very restricted as to what I was permitted to do.

Add to that, my camera decided to declare an “ERR 70” with a cryptic message saying something to the effect of “turn the camera off then on again and maybe the problem will go away”.

Of course, the problem didn’t go away. Pile of 💩.

The camera is scheduled to return from the repair shop today so Liddy and I can get out and have more FUN!

About the image, I was shooting at f/4, 105mm so the depth of field was small. Liddy stuck her nose into the frame — she does that — and so she is a bit fuzzy.

There are several approaches to the problem she told us. You can take the TAVR route with the advantage of a speedy recovery, or you can go the SAVR route which is more invasive and impactful up front, but we won’t have this conversation again in ten or twelve years.

TAVR? SAVR? Yeah, I was learning too. TAVR is short for Transcatheter Aortic Valve Replacement. SAVR is short for Surgical Aortic Valve Replacement. The commonality is of course the Aortic Valve Replacement bit.

In case you don’t know, the Aortic Valve is one of four valves in your heart. Without one, your heart can’t move your blood around your body. The Aortic Valve is one of those key body components for which failure is not an option.

Some weeks before this conversation about TAVR and SAVR I had been informed that my very own aortic valve was in a state where it was about to fail. Acute Atrial Stenosis was the line item on the echocardiogram report. Turned my world upside down it did. A true WTF or OMG moment that was.

Turns out that calcified aortic valves are not uncommon amongst those of us lucky enough to reach our 70s. Not so long ago, this would have been a death sentence. Fifteen years ago the only answer was the surgical replacement of the valve through open heart surgery, SAVR. Today, we have the option of having a new valve pushed up through our leg arteries and positioned over top of the defective one. This is the TAVR method.

Let me think about this … crack open a perfectly good chest bone, slice into a reasonably working heart and sew in a new valve or … deliver one in place simply by snaking a tube up from my groin to my aorta. Mild sedation, maybe out the same day, where is the debate here? Sign me up.

Which brings us back to our conversation with the cardiac surgeon. That spunky smiling surgeon remarked that she was not planning for the TAVR that she could perform next week. Nope, that one was easy. She was thinking about the second one that would need to take place in 10- to-12 years. It seems these new porcine or bovine valves are very good but their life expectancy … well, it’s not forever.

My surgeon laid out the options. Yes, she told us, there are fewer complications with TAVR if you don’t consider the future. The outcome is great especially if you have some chronic conditions which make open heart surgery risky. But for a fit young man of 72 years, wouldn’t you rather a one-and-done solution? Sure it’s a wee bit more invasive, but it’s done all the time now. We crack open your sternum. Hook you up to a heart-lung machine. Pop in a mechanical valve in place of the defective original. Sew you back together and you’re done. Good for thirty years.

As an additional bonus, you will enjoy intensive care for a day or two then a few more days in the cardiac care ward. We provide a walker and make sure you are ready when you leave the hospital. You will be chauffeured about for a month. This means you can practice your backseat driving and honestly tell your wife where to go.

What can go wrong here?

My wife June and I left the appointment a bit stunned. The drive home was quiet. When we got around to discussing the options, we found we were both on the same page. It was a short discussion. When my surgeon called the next day, I was able to say that we agreed the SAVR procedure was the path to follow.

I had a chance to talk to my daughter and son together about our decision before the surgery. They were very supportive. While my daughter and her family would be returning to Germany before I went under the knife, my son would be there with his mother while I was out.

So, here we are. Several weeks after the event. My chest has a nice neat zipper scar down the sternum. It hurts less each day.

In the morning now, I wake to a new soft sound echoing in my head, a flip-flub kind of sound made by the replacement mechanical valve pushing blood out to my body.

It will be Christmas before I can get behind the wheel of a car again. On the other hand, I will be able to get behind the wheel of a car again.

Thanksgiving was last week and I have a long list of things to be thankful for. The important ones are the amazing support from my family, the great work by the MultiCare surgeons and caregivers — again amazing — and the fact that I will continue to be able to meet wonderful people and visit beautiful places. Gotta love it!

This is my story. My aortic stenosis was diagnosed because I was under care for atrial fibrillation. We didn’t know how far the condition had advanced. Aside from some fatigue, I didn’t feel any different. I was planning a 500+ mile bicycle tour in France during October. I can only imagine what a kerfuffle it would have been had I collapsed during my ride along the Rhône River.

New plan for 2024. Get fit. Get out. Enjoy life.

What about you? What’s your story? Do you have any surprises lurking in the closet? Don’t wait to get them checked out.

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

Six Word Photo Story: Freestyle

Gray Dawn. Adventure Awaits. Set Sail.

This morning, when my computer woke up, this was the featured background image.

Given where my head is right now, this was such a wonderful start to my day.

Throughout my life, I have been blessed with generally good health. I have never indulged in recreational drugs aside from alcohol. Smoking was not a habit I acquired. I enjoy the outdoors so take every opportunity to get out and enjoy it. Not to say I don’t have issues. My sweet tooth is catching up to me it seems. But in general, I am fairly fit and healthy for a septuagenarian.

Next week I will be having a valve job. I am told that this is a very routine procedure these days. Fortunately, it hasn’t been a part of my routine ever!

I won’t say I’m scared shitless, but my apprehension level is just a tad high.

So. I am enjoying these relaxing images a bit more than usual, at the moment. I hope you will enjoy it also.

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

November Six Word Photo Story Challenge: “Happiness”

Happiness is Attitude and a Dog!

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

Six Word Photo Story Challenge: “Site or Sight”

UNESCO Heritage Site: Some Imagination Required.

When you follow Highway 3 East or West across Southern Alberta, you will reach the town of Fort Macleod. This town was significant in the history of Canada because of its association with the Northwest Mounted Police.

If you have time, visit the Fort Museum of the NWMP and First Nations Interpretive Center. Unfortunately, on the several occasions I have visited Fort MacLeod, I have not made the time to visit this important Canadian historical site.

In May of 2023, we passed through the area and instead visited the UNESCO World Heritage Site: Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump.

Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump World Heritage Site
Where the foothills of the Rocky Mountains meet the Great Plains sits one of the world's largest, oldest, and…headsmashedin.ca

As you can see from this photograph, the sight is rather underwhelming. Just another cliff above a valley on the Canadian Prairie.

The site, however, represents so much more. The site enshrines how the Blackfoot tribes managed and exploited the Buffalo or North American Bison. Imagine the tribes gathered below these cliffs with a camp established. Imagine a path created on the plain above the cliffs to guide the Buffalo herd towards these cliffs. Imagine the natives stampeding the herd along that path and over these cliffs to their deaths. The tribe’s people participating in this hunt would butcher and preserve their kill, providing meat for the rest of the year.

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

Street Photography is not easy. If you are persistent and lucky, you may be blessed with a great sunset. But this isn’t really street is it? This is an urban landscape. In my mind, true street photography is the art of capturing people being people. Great Street Photography tells compelling stories through candid shots.

The Washington State Fair, 2023 edition, closed its doors a month ago. I was browsing through my collection of shots and thinking that these images tell a story of a fair that could be anywhere. The Ferris Wheel. Lots of people on the Midway. Could be a shot from anyone’s cell phone just recording the moment. Ho Hum!

I will say it again, Street Photography is hard. Trying to capture a moment that tells the story about a place and time. It takes a practiced eye. Add to that there is a building fear of litigation because the subject of the image may be recognizable. Never mind that the context of publication is editorial and therefore does not need permission.

So, what is a person to do?

Well, Washington is the Evergreen State. It’s supposed to be raining and gloomy all the time, right? How about living for that rain? How about using the rain to gain a different view? How about looking down? How about looking for puddles and reflections? The reward may be something completely different.

While browsing my fair photos this morning, I came across this shot. Lots of color. Lots of reflection Too much dead space in the lower half of the frame, but lots of potential.

OK, let’s crop it. Let’s crop it hard. Let’s get rid of that distracting yellow drain on the right.

Better.

But what happens when we rotate the image one-hundred-eighty degrees?

Yes! Now I have an image of people walking in the rain.

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.

Six Word Photo Story Challenge: “Site or Sight”

Historic sites are sights worth seeing.

Fort Langley, British Columbia, was founded by the Hudson’s Bay Company in 1827. Located on the south bank of the Fraser River, upstream from what is now the cities of Vancouver and New Westminster, it served a major role in the Canadian Fur Trade.

On November 19, 1858, Governor James Douglas proclaimed the Colony of British Columbia on this site. I’m sure Douglas enjoyed his dinner at a larger table, but this is the one that was set the last time I visited.

Wherever you travel, make time to visit the historical sites. How else can you experience the world that was and understand how it impacts our world that is.

The world is a beautiful place. Share the beauty. Leave only footsteps.