Autumn colours

It has been a long time since my last post. Not that there was nothing to tell or show, but the overload of new impressions during my travels through Canada and the USA has confused me. I have seen so many amazing things, been reunited with so many friends, travelled through so many different landscapes, that apart from a day to day travelogue I can find no pattern. I may write more about my trip later, but for now I like to share an impression of autumn - or fall if you like - in my own country. Yes, I have been greatly impressed by the fall colours in Canada and the USA, because of the variety and the many reds. But autumn here in the Netherlands can be quite beautiful too. Last week the colours were just unbelievably bright, it may be a cliché, but the leaves seemed to be made of liquid gold when - to our delight and surprise - we had two days of sunshine and bright blue skies. 

Hoog Soeren

Today I wasn't so lucky. There was an interesting veil of mist in the morning. Hoping the sun would come out by the time I needed it, I decided to go on a photo "safari" in the east part of the country. We have had hardly any wind for the past few days, and as soon as that changes the trees will be robbed of their leaves in just a few days. I used to take my father on a tour each year to see the autumn colours, so I missed his company and his joy. He had the eye of an artist and would take lots of pictures. We shared our love of nature. I took a similar route I would have taken with him, going on minor roads through an area with mainly beech trees which are always majestic, but best in spring when they seem to swim in a sea of strikingly pale green leaves, and in autumn. The oak trees have already lost their leaves, their gnarled bare branches providing an interesting pattern against the sky and against the yellow leaves on other trees. Beech trees are the last to shed their leaves, which have an amazing copper colour, or sometimes even a bright orange. There were many yellows and rusty colours, looking even brighter against the very dark and smooth trunks of the beech trees. 

 Moorland

A typical Dutch smallholding, tucked away in the woods

I took a dirt road across the moors, the heather still showing a faint mauve colour, the tall grasses a pale yellow sea in the slight breeze, changing colour with each movement.

And not only did I see many interesting sheds and outbuildings on my recent trip through Canada and the USA, but in our miniature landscape I also noticed unusual barns and outbuildings. 

 What the English call Dutch barns - and they are!

A gate leading to a track through the woodland

I arrived rather late in the day at Staverden, a castle which has been restored to its former glory during the past ten years or so. According to their website the restoration was completed in 2007. Unfortunately dusk sets in early at this time of year, especially since the sky was overcast, so the pictures I took tend to have a bluish hue, due to the fading light and the slight mist. The parking lot closes at sunset, so I have to go back one day to explore the promising park and gardens. 

 Staverden estate

 The castle, or half of it.

 The watermill

Virginia Beach, October 4th 2012

After a road trip of 3850 kilometers, we are now luxuriating in a beach house in Virginia Beach. Beach house is a euphemism for “palatial mansion” built on the beach of this lovely part of Virginia. It has a southerly feel, because of the heat and the humidity. Not the dry heat of the Rockies or Nevada. 

Dawn

Here I live a life of leisure, taking a dip in the indoor pool, followed by a dive into the ocean which is warm in comparison. Not like the cold and grey North Sea, never warm, never really clear, only enjoyed by masochistic swimmers. It is a joy getting into the water here, being beaten by the surf and swept off one‘s feet. 

Waders, too quick for the camera

Watching the pelicans from one of the decks, the dolphins playing around and cruising along the shore, seeing the little waders quickly running in front of the waves, foraging in the wet sand, it is all bliss. I go for long walks mornings and evenings, just after dawn, when the sun has risen over the water, and the crabs scuttle away into their holes. We could be on the moon, with hundreds of small craters everywhere. 

  "Beach houses" for crabs

The crabs have a sandy colour and the small ones are only noticed when they race away, sideways of course.  They are called sandfiddlers or sandpipers. There aren’t many shells on the beach, but crablike creatures with long tails looking like warriors from outer space are washed ashore regularly. They have no meat to them so are not edible, and they look really weird. 

Extraterrestial invasion?

Because of the surf the air seems misted over. Distances are deceptive. On one side there are the beach houses, veritable palaces, although interspersed with more modest and older ones, weathered and not brightly painted like the new abodes. The houses go on and on, facing the sea and the dawn which comes in many shades of pink and orange. The wet sand mirrors the sky. Walking along the waterline is like walking the sky. It is best early in the morning, when hardly anybody is about yet, except for the anglers who think it the perfect time for a good catch.

The house at dawn

The house fills up gradually, with new guests arriving every day, till all the ten rooms will be occupied and everything will be ready for the big wedding.

Knowing that in Winnipeg where we came from the first snow has fallen and temperatures are below zero at night, makes us all the happier that we can enjoy those wonderful summer days here on the beach. We eat mussels and clams, the shells piling up on the tables on the deck and in the kitchen, use the two big BBQs, eat and drink from the six (!) fridges filled to overflowing, while the bride and groom and her parents chop and peel potatoes, carrots and cabbage, pummel a catering size casserole full of bread dough, slave away preparing everything for their great day. This is how they wanted it, and this is what they are doing. The cupboards are full of home made preserves and pickles, the freezers stuffed with containers of lasagna, the champagne is waiting in the cellar. The bride and groom will be worn out by the time of the wedding, but this is their choice. Among all the family members, I am a welcome guest, although up till now the only one who is not a family member. More friends will arrive on Saturday, but for now it is just family.

Sunset

The house is wonderful with its outdoor and indoor pool, the spacious ten bedrooms all with their own bathroom, the round library with – while I am writing - a view of the moon on the water. But I could be happy in a modest beach house. It is the view that makes me happy, and being among friends and accepted as one of the family.

Canada with its cold days and nights, its stunning autumn colours, its lakes and rocky outcrops, its barns red or weathered, seems very far away. But is was only last week we were there. We stayed with friends in Deep River, a name as poetic as names come, the small town living up to it with leafy streets, nice and well kept houses, a marina in the Ottawa River, and houseboats floating on the water. So different from the marina in Alexandria, where we stayed with friends of mine, a woman once in my charge when she was an 8-year old girl, living in the Netherlands for two years. Alexandria has pastel coloured houses, some dating back to the 17^th century. Not so many trees here, but a busy and lively main street, leading down to the Potomac and the marina, where even cruise ships moor. There is a nice and modern river walk with shops, café s and a park.

In Alexandria the temperature changed. It was our first warm day turning into a very hot and humid one. How quickly one forgets the cold, and how addictive is this life style! I will enjoy it as long as it lasts, as next week we drive north again, towards Minnesota, into autumn, and as far as Winnipeg is concerned into the icy tentacles of winter. 

Thursday September 27

We are now some 1850 km from Winnipeg, and for the past few days we have seen nothing but glorious colours, hills, rocks, and lakes. Many lakes, some so smooth when there is no wind in the early mornings, that the sky and the lake seem to flow into each other and merge. It has been very cold, with frost at night, but that has brought on the autumn colours early, which is a bonus. The Trans Canada is very quiet, and crossing the road is no problems, as long as one is aware of the huge trucks which come thundering down the hills. This is a very vast country, days of just forests, lakes, rocks, hills and the occasional village, called town here, however small it is. We buy coffee and sandwiches in cafes along the Trans Canada, just a two lane road in most places. Here and there old wooden sheds are falling to pieces. Nobody seems to care. We also pass many small wooden churches, some in good repair, others sagging and obviously no longer used. At Batchawana Bay we pass a small white clapboard church facing the bay. It looks idyllic. When we leave to travel on the next morning, bulldozers have taken the church down. It is really sad. Few people live here year round, but there are many cottages facing the bay which are used in summer. Some stay to do ice fishing, a sport I would not appreciate, sitting in a hut on the ice in the freezing cold trying to catch something through a hole made in the ice. I have seen those huts one year around Christmas on the Red River in Winnipeg. They looked like big lit balloons or lampions, lights shining through the canvas of the tents.

We see so many colours, so many lakes, such beautiful vistas, it s difficult to get an impression of all of them.

Here are some pictures taken in Thunder Bay, before we saw all the glorious colours.

I will try to post some more pictures if I have a good internet connection. But usually we don’t. 

Thunder Bay

The second day we drive on to Thunder Bay. We have plenty of time to explore the back roads, drive along some of the lakes and take pictures of small churches, in good and bad repair, have a leisurely lunch at a café/shop/ lunchroom/take-away where the locals gather and chat. From Dryden on we see more logging trucks, heavily laden. The landscape also changes and is less rocky. I think I prefer the rocky outcrops the road cuts through at regular intervals between the Whiteshell and Dryden. But here we get more vistas. And more showers, although not till we cross the watershed. From there it is downhill, towards Lake Superior, which is the cause of the rain.

Before that we admire the silvery light on the lakes, W. admires a water plane, an old one, the type in which he was transported into the bush when he had a summer job. Canoes were tied to the drivers and thus transported. It is a nice, bright yellow plane, an Otter.

We also stop at an outfitter at English River, a nice spot also on a lake. As it is in between seasons – the fishing is over and the hunting hasn’t started yet – the place is closed. When open there is a coffee shop with a view of the lake – and of any piece of game hanging out in the trees opposite. Once W. and J. faced a moose hanging there. There are trucks in bush colours, one even creatively painted with tiny leaves and flowers, which are used to drag the killed animals home. It is not exactly easy to carry a dead moose!

In Thunder Bay we stay for a few days, enjoying the hospitality of my friends’ relatives. On Saturday J. takes us for a drive to Silver Islet, on the Sleeping Giant peninsula. Here we see beautiful autumn colours, vivid reds and yellows, especially in the undergrowth. On the map the distance is negligible, but in fact the distances are deceptive. Besides, we only have road maps which give no indication of the landscape  at all. Everything is just white with red or black roads. National Parks are green. Altitude is not indicated. So it is a surprising trip, the map being coloured in in my mind, unfolding as if building up the landscape.

The shop cum cafe. Below some of the shelves of the shop

Silver Islet is another surprise today. It is a quaint old place, on the shore of Lake Superior. It was once a mining town, as silver was mined on a very small island off the shore, not very far away. How they could build shafts on that island, and a mine, seems a mystery. But the mine was successful. Many of the houses facing the lake are original, some dating back to the 1880-ies. Theylook very picturesque, but it is also clear the will be very cold and uncomfortable in winter with the wind blowing down from the lake. It is cold now, only 7 degrees. We meet some people who tell me that a bear cub is in a tree nearby, so we take the car and carefully drive further along the road. But all we see is a doe and a stag with antlers, grazing in between the houses.

There is an old-fashioned store which sells anything one can possibly need, and with a tearoom, attached to it which opens this Saturday at 2 o’clock. It is marvellous, as an old couple is serving us, making coffee and soup. By the locals it is used as a pub, a place to meet and exchange the news, gossiping about this and that and the other.

The shop is painted a bright blue, which reflects in the water of the lake.

On our way to Quimet Canyon

We go back via dirt roads and on to Quimet Canyon, an amazing canyon with lookout platforms hanging over it. We can see the lake, the autumn colours and the awesome granite rock formations. But the wind is very cold and we wouldn’t mind a pair of gloves. So we walk back via the boardwalks. It is an hour’s drive from here via the Trans Canada to Thunder Bay, where we arrive just before 6 o’clock. It was a wonderful day, and we warm up on red wine, a lovely meal cooked by our host, and enjoy each other’s company.

 Some views of the Canyon and the road towards it.

Winnipeg to Virginia Beach: Day 1

Thursday September 20th; Winnipeg-Dryden

Today we have started on our trip to Virginia Beach. The first stage is the Trans Canada from Winnipeg to Thunder Bay. Since our start wasn’t as early as planned, we decide to take it easy and do the 700 kilometers in two stages, so that we can enjoy some photo stops. The dire forecast of heavy rainfall hasn’t come true. It is sunny weather, although there is a cold wind. But as long as it is dry, that doesn’t matter. We stop off the Trans Canada at West Hawk village for a look at the lake and a cup of soup. The village is deserted, as the tourist season is really over. Work is in progress on a new sidewalk.

The Trans Canada is very quiet. Vistas are wonderful, especially because in the East the sky is spectacular with dark clouds. The colours, mainly yellow with bright red and orange in the undergrowth and the low bushes, form a wonderful contrast with the dark tall pine trees and the water of the many lakes. Some of the rock formations along the road are yellow and beige, some very pink. Supposedly it is granite. I love this landscape, with the small rocky islands dotted across the lakes. It is amazing the fir trees can grow on those rocky outcrops. We stop often along the way, and I also try to take some pictures through the windshield. They may be a bit blurred, but at least they give an impression of the road with its many turns and dips.

We visit Rushing River National Park on the way, just off the highway. It is closed for the season, but we can have a hike there. The colours are stunning, and getting deeper every day. It is cold though.

We find a motel in Dryden, a place which from the road doesn’t seem interesting, but which actually turns out to be a very pleasant town. When we go out to explore it at sunset, we are surprised by a wonderful spectacle. The red sun which is low in the sky behind the ugly pulp mill, transforms the plumes of steam into clouds of liquid fire. It doesn’t last very long, but is unforgettable. As dusk sets in over the lake, deer seem to appear from everywhere and roam the streets. Thus this town which most people will pass on the Trans Canada without giving it a second thought, all at once has a magical quality.

Being with friends

Relaxing with friends, having leisurely meals, drinking home made wine - and very nice wine too - , discussing music, religion, especially Mennonite theology and doctrines, playing around with two new cameras, walking in the park, going on some trips nearby, it is all enjoyable. Even in the few days I have been here, the colors have changed dramatically, as if overnight. Also the temperature has dropped from 30 degrees to less than 10 degrees in one single day, and the wind coming from the north is cold. I am happy to be here, where I have no responsibilities. Perhaps that is the nicest thing about being away, seeing much loved friends and being carefree. 

 Lower Fort Garry. An old boat used by the trappers who came from the North down the Red River to Winnipeg, their boats loaded with pelts

 

 Entrance gate to the main house of the governor

 Back into the past

Fishing in the Red River near Lockport Dam and Bridge

 Assiniboine Park, Winnipeg

 Sculpture Garden, Assiniboine Park

Canada, The joy of travel

September 13^th 

I have never been so early ready and prepared for a trip as this time. I started packing and checking and doing the laundry a few days in advance, so I could even cope with a visit of two hours and a 45 minute telephone call the evening before my departure. A kind friend collected me and drove me to Schiphol in plenty of time. Just as well. I thought I had checked everything several times and wondered why I could not check in at home. So I tried the machine at Schiphol, which also refused to check me in. Then an air-hostess told me where to go. So I joined a line, waited till it was my turn only to be told that I had to go to a row of desks opposite.  Again I waited, and when my luggage had been weighed, and all the papers – or almost all – checked and I had been allocated a seat, the airhostess asked for my ESTA document, which I produced. Apparently it was outdated, which I did not know. So I had to pick up my bags again, and go to a special computer, one of three close together, to apply for a new ESTA document. These were dreadful machines with touch screens which either reacted too slowly, not at all, or too quickly. It took ages to fill in the forms, and when they were all done, and it was time to pay by credit card, the forms miraculously disappeared and the screen told me that I could expect the document by mail in about 7 days! That clearly wouldn’t do and I started the whole procedure again, with the same result. It was rather hopeless. And it wasn’t just me, quite a few people, mostly men, were waiting their turn and were cursing the machines. A woman was in tears, fearing she would miss her plane and thus her holiday. There was nobody to give us any assistance. In the end, when we all despaired, an official came to our rescue. No document, but a number was all we got after having paid by credit card. With this I was sent again to a desk, and when I suggested that the other row of desks opposite would be better, she said: No. So I waited again, and when it was my turn the air hostess told me I was at the wrong desk and should go to the other desks opposite. Here I waited again. But lo and behold, when I had given her the number, I was finally issued with my boarding card! The whole procedure had taken an hour or so, which meant there was no time left for shopping as the terminal was right at the other end of the building. I longingly looked at the electronics shop, but had no time to look around. Perhaps just as well, as I noticed that my new camera would have been a lot cheaper if I had bought it here. 
Once on the plane we were all given similar forms as the electronic ESTA form, and I had to start all over again! It seems overdone and rather paranoid to me.

After all the hassle it was a surprise to see the big church in Haarlem from the air, looking like a wooden toy, surrounded by lots of miniature red roofed houses and buildings, straight from the toy box of a young child.

At Minneapolis we landed some 30 minutes late. Here too, the terminal for Canada is kilometers away from the one for the transatlantic flights. So I walked at a fast pace for 15 minutes at least, to get at the gate on time. Because at Minneapolis we had to go through customs, pick up the suitcase and put it back on a conveyor belt and go through security again. Every traveler knows the drill of undressing bit by bit, as if being admitted to prison, no jackets, no shoes, no belts, no metal jewelery, fluids in small quantities in clear plastic bags, laptop open etc. Once at the gate I thought I had made it. But I was called to the desk over the intercom as something was not right. They did not tell me what but started typing in my name and many other data, were on the phone all the time, waiting for a response or the all clear, etc. I despaired of ever getting to my destination on time, but lo and behold after some 20 minutes I was given the all clear, issued with a new boarding card and could finally board the plane just 5 minutes before take-off.

More forms to fill out, now for Canada. But at last, after a rather short flight of just over an hour, I reached my destination. Once more through customs and passport control. I had a seat at the back of the plane, which meant I was the last person out and the last one to retrieve my luggage. But I had reached my destination. My friends who were waiting had almost given up hope as I was the very last person to emerge through the glass sliding doors. It was a happy reunion. All is well that ends well.