A Moment of Personal Triumph

So today, We decided to hike Quarry Rock. It's a part of the Baden Powell Trail, located in Deep Cove. It's a punishing, steep and winding 8 km hike to a view point. The trail is a mass of roots, loose rock, slippery sections, rough stairs (some of which are hip high!) and bridges. Conditions are such that if you're like me and have no proprioception (& therefore, no balance) you cannot allow your attention to stray from you feet for a single second.

The trail head begins with a climb that is 45 degrees straight up. I stood looking up at it and thinking "WOW!" and wondering if I was out of my mind. My second thought (the one that usually gets me into trouble) was "Well...as long as I'm here..."

We took our time, taking lots of little breaks because as I was climbing, I was loosing feeling in my legs. (That's the fun part of having spinal cord damage!) It made me a bit dizzy, but I sucked it up and kept moving. There was no way I was going to give up.

An hour and twenty minutes later, we were looking at this:

Deep Cove (left) and up Indian Arm. (right)

We stopped to cool off, down some water and a snack. Indy found a mud puddle and wasted no time plunging into it up to his armpits. That's a Lab for ya!

See? He's smiling, right after he did it. I noticed some fixed points in the rock. I think if you have the right equipment, you could take a shortcut down. That would have been cool! I'd like to repel at some point in my life-not necessarily there specifically, but just to try it once, for fun.

This is my favourite photo from the day, an old dead tree used as a sign post.

The hike back was equally as challenging, especially since my right hiking shoe was eating a hole in my heel and my knees were screaming. Every step down was painful, but I got through it. The view was *so* worth it and I am glad I did this hike while I am still able-bodied enough to manage it. There's a certain satisfaction in pushing yourself to do things that are hard. It feels just that much better when you persevere and succeed. 

I am proud of myself today. 

Anything is possible!

*****

P.S. Click on any of the photos to view them larger.

Skiing Is Believing: Redefining What's Possible

Saturday, I spent the entire day at Whistler Olympic Park, which was home to the Olympic and Paralympic Cross Country Skiing and Biathalon events. My friend Andrea asked me to come and be the photographer for the Skiing is Believing program and I jumped at the chance. I adore Whistler and I was more than happy to support the important work she and Paralympian Courtney Knight are doing.

The Skiing Is Believing program introduces people with disability to cross country skiing. Paralympians, their coaches and team of dedicated volunteers teach people with a variety of physical and sensory disabilities, (wheelchair users, amputees, people who are blind or visually impaired, people with cerebral palsy) as well as their friends and family to ski. 

Here's a quick peek:

(That was Andrea talking about the program!)

I spent the morning capturing various aspects of the program. It was a bit of a challenge because the weather was absolutely not cooperating-we had a combination of rain, rain mixed with slushy snow and then outright snow. I'd planned ahead though and brought an umbrella, as well as a Ziploc bag, some duct tape and scissors so I could McGyver a way to keep my camera dry. It was a good thing I did because by the end of the day, pretty much everything I owned was soaked. It pays to be prepared!

 

No one seemed to mind the less than ideal weather conditions-they geared up and got out there. What I really enjoyed was the opportunity to observe and learn. The coaches and volunteer guides were incredible. In no time they had their skiers geared up and ready to go. Everyone was assigned a volunteer so they had one-on-one support and instruction for the day. It was wonderful to see someone go from being tentative as they were learning, to gaining confidence as the day wore on. The transformation was amazing to witness.

Late in the morning, I went inside to warm up and see what I had shot so far. While I was sitting there, a skier and guide came in. The guide got her skier situated and then left to grab some lunch. We were the only two people in the room, so we chatted with one another, sharing our stories. It turns out I was familiar with her story because it had been in the news. We had a long conversation about processing and coping with difficult things and how we move forward in our lives. It was one of those moments when I realized the universe had conspired to put us in each other's path for a reason. That conversation was meant to happen. Her courage in the face of terrible adversity is remarkable. I am continually in awe of the resiliency of the human spirit.

After lunch, while everyone who'd spent the morning in lessons went off to ski the trails, I geared up and Andrea gave me my own lesson. I cross country skied as a kid, but that was some time ago and long before damage to my spinal cord made me to lose my proprioception. (The ability to know where your body is in space, which is absolutely necessary for balance.) I was very scared, but I was also determined to ski. I never allow fear to keep me from doing anything.

Andrea was super supportive and patient while I got used to moving on the skis. Even though we were working in what appeared to be a fairly flat area, there were still times when the skis would pick up speed on slight inclines and I would struggle to stay on my feet. Andrea told me to crouch down and put my hands on my knees to maintain balance. Most of the time that worked, but I fell a few times. I slipped and fell backwards once and whacked the back of my head, but I was okay though I think I might have scared Andrea. We got my feet out of the bindings and in less than a minute, I was up and laughing and went right back at it. It never occurred to me to give up.

I figured out that as long as I could keep my center of gravity over the tops of my boots, I wouldn't fall down. I found skiing uphill much easier than downhill. When I was going uphill, my balance was in the exact right place and I felt like I had control over my skis. It was much harder going downhill, but I attempted skiing down an incline (across and down a bridge) just to have the experience. (I'll try anything once!)

I got about 3/4's of the way down the bridge before I
 wiped out. *laughs* I knew falling would be part of the deal and I was okay with that. It's part of the learning process. The best way to describe what being on skis felt like for me is to liken it to when you see someone in the circus balancing on a piece of 2x4 , which is balanced on top of a ball. It took every ounce of my concentration to stay on my feet.

At one point, we were skiing in front of the Olympic rings and Andrea asked me if I realized I was skiing where the Olympic and Paralympic XC skiers had all crossed the finish line. I hadn't till she said it and I loved her for pointing that out to me. She knows how much I adore the Games. She took the photo of me standing in front of the rings at the top of this post. I felt the way I look in that picture-happy and grateful for the experience and personally triumphant that with Andrea's help, I DID IT.

 Skiing Is Believing beautifully illustrated for me how important Para sport programs are. It gives those who live with disability the opportunity to reclaim their physicality, to redefine what they believe is possible for themselves, to connect with others and if they so desire, to train to become competitive.

My experience on Saturday reaffirmed for me that anything is possible and that when life offers you an opportunity, you have to grab it with both hands. 

Rose Coloured Glasses, Week 1

So Rose Coloured Glasses began on Monday. I'm back into the regular practice of shooting for class and it feels good. I just realized that I've been shooting now for 22 straight months. This is by far the largest body of work I've ever created and I'm pretty pleased about it.

I shot these birch trees up at the lake. They are one of my favourite trees because they remind me of home (the prairies) and you don't see too many of them here in BC. Yes, I have favourite trees. I'm weird like that. My other favourites are blue spruce, (my grandfather had them on his farm, so they also remind me of home) arbutus trees, and of course, Canada's beloved maple trees.

Autumn berries, up at the lake.

The trees are just beginning to turn now. We had an Indian Summer, so it was sunny and warm right up until a couple days ago. Now we're socked in with fog and it's supposed to rain. We haven't had rain in ages.

I love this sunlight and blur shot. I paired it with the Harvest Prayer I posted on Thanksgiving. 

 The secret world on a sunflower.

I think this is my favourite shot this week. I took it in my studio. I collect vintage scissors and pieces of old quilts. I love shooting still lifes.

Processing

(Our classroom at Lost Lake yesterday.)

I'm back after a 3 day weekend in Whistler, BC. There's so much I want to tell you about it but I'm pretty tired and have just begun sifting through my photos from the You Are Your Own Muse class. I think I need a day or so to process the whole experience, (as well as my photos) so bear with me. I'll give you the scoop real soon!

On the Wing

On the Wing

This morning, I have a couple more images taken at the salmon graveyard on the weekend to share. (You can click on them to view at full size.)

This image of geese taking flight over the river is so emotive to me. I wonder if your experience of it is the same as mine?

Branches Bare

I was taken by these frosted branches along the shore line. They reminded me of a quote from Hemingway:

"You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you dies each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring, as you knew the river would flow again after it was frozen."

Isn't that beautiful? 

Autumn is drawing to a close-I can feel the change in season starting to happen. Winter is close at hand.

Turn, turn, turn...

The Natural Order of Things

The Natural Order of Things

Yesterday my husband and I drove out to the wilds to view the eagles who are gathering in the thousands to feast on the late spawn of salmon.

We walked the beach, the only two people (and a dog) there. It was absolutely quiet. We wandered for well over an hour, through a salmon graveyard. The fish, at the very end of their life cycle had washed up on the shore, many of them freezing in the sand. Some were whole, some nothing but hollow tangled skins and many, nothing but bones picked clean. I was utterly fascinated.

The eagles, giant, majestic birds were perched high in the snags. Some bald, some golden, all of them beautiful and breathtaking, in numbers too many to count.

That time, wandering slowly, taking notice of the light, the cold and revelling in the solitude of our surroundings felt sacred in a way that left me feeling deeply connected. I believe I see things differently now and experience them more fully through the lense. Nature has the power to move me again and again and I will remember this day for a long, long time.

In This Moment

In This Moment

This is the beauty of today, on the west coast of Canada.

Truly, this is the season that stirs my soul and makes me glad to be alive.

Delicious autumn!

My very soul is wedded to it,

and if I were a bird

I would fly about the earth

 seeking the successive autumns.

 ~George Eliot

I wish you quiet moments in the weeks to come, to sit and watch the leaves change and to soak up the goodness of the season.

The Road Less Travelled

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveller, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.

~Robert Frost

*Images shot at Pitt Lake & Davison's Hole, Maple Ridge, BC