1
Iris writes.
2
Martin and Akiva play ball.
3
Iris and Akiva trace shadows.
4
Akiva and Iris make footprints.
5
Martin reads.
6
Akiva and Iris find a pallet; I add logs.
We build a craft.
They set off!
Iris is up—
and down.
Iris and Akiva push off—
into the sunset.
Perhaps some year we will hike all the way there.
1
Witness the strange optical illusion of inverted footprints on sand.
2
Cars are an important part of any camping trip.
The orange Toyota 4×4 (right) is a favorite. Most parts of it return every year.
It is one of Martin’s jobs to play with cars on rocks.
Playing with cars on rocks is always done early in the morning.
3
Iris takes a photo of me cooking.
4
I take a family portrait.
5
While the tide is out, the kids go climbing on an otherwise inaccessible rock.
Akiva has an easy time going up. Iris has less confidence in her grip.
Akiva demonstrates that, in addition to jumping, he can climb down the way he went up.
Iris is open to jumping— if she can get close enough to the ground first.
Two people up on top.
6
Iris takes a photo of me resting.
7
Contrary to typical engineering practices, the best sand-home engineers always build where the next high tide will cause great devastation.
Canal building commenced around seven in the morning.
The purpose of the canal was the creation of an island.
Digging of the pool began past eight. Akiva dug, Martin brought the reinforcement material.
Iris documented the days activities in her journal.
She drew and wrote in the morning light on a driftwood log by the bay.
After allowing them to admire it a bit, the rising tide lent its creative hand to Martin & Akiva’s stone ringed pool.
Back at camp, there was a chess tournament.
It is very difficult to get an action shot in chess.
I have never seen one.
This is our kitchen tent. We have our own spot on the bay with our own entrance, to the water.
It is just a bit over two kilometers from where the nearest car can drive.
There are no idling RVs, no cars driving, no speakers playing, no people walking by (usually), and there is no cell reception.
I got Lyme disease at my folk’s house in mid-July. It was exhausting and painful.
I spent most of our camping trip sleeping on the beach.
The kids didn’t have as much fun this year, due to all my sleeping.
Martin says it was the last year we’re going, in his opinion.
He has never enjoyed camping.
It’s still the best place ever for family camping, in my opinion. I simply love it here.
deciding on the building site
building the foundation
raising the walls
sandcastle legs
playing in the bay
shoreline at sunset
children at sunset
We walked out around the rocks to the place where the belugas sing.
When we got back, the setting sun made wild roses glow.
I took so many photos of the sunset, each one better than the last, none of them real.
The only real sunset was the stained-glass one I saw upon the sky, but it is gone.
The sunset will return next summer, when we do.
Goodbye, water.
Goodbye, mountains.
Goodbye, sky.
Goodbye, Baie-Sainte-Marguerite.
See you next year.
Ten Years, Four Months, Eleven Days
Seven Years, Two Months, Twenty-Four Days
Unknown Age
While Akiva busied himself building canals,
Iris amassed a small krill collection.
* * *
Back when I was learning to work in the dark room, we were encouraged to study Ansel Adams. I pondered some photos and I read some of his words about technique. I was particularly impressed with his equipment and darkroom setup— or lack thereof. I understood the importance of his work from a historical and from a conservation standpoint, but I had trouble “reading” landscapes in black & white.
What I remember most of all of it was his portrait of a man’s face. After discussing his photo he wrote, “I think this portrait would have been better in color.” That was remarkable to me, as I have generally preferred portraits in black & white and landscapes in color, and I was under the impression that Adams did everything in B&W. I hadn’t even known that color film existed during his lifetime.
I wonder what it was about the face that he thought would have been better in color. He didn’t explain. The only thing I can think that displeased him was the difference in drama between a mountain and a face. Mountains are dramatic in a way that allowed him to capture them in stark blacks and whites, expertly balancing the tones across the page. A face has more muted peaks and valleys, lending itself to the ambivalence of grey. Perhaps Adams was less sure of himself due to this lack of starkness. While most of us need color to comprehend the landscape, perhaps landscape is what Adams saw most clearly in any light. Perhaps Adams needed color to help him comprehend the human face.
A cloud hangs over the bay,
and Iris looks out on the morning.
She returns with specimens:
seaweed, driftwood, stone.
* * *
A cloud hangs over the bay,
and Akiva drives out in the morning.
Out in the morning, out in the morning. Akiva drives out in the morning.
While Iris and I went for a walk up the Sainte-Marguerite river,
Martin stayed by the bay and played with metal cars with Akiva.
Upon my return, I noticed we were situated in the perfect location for shooting 4×4 truck advertisements!
I made some mock-ups using Toyota advertising slogans and Lorem Ipsum text.
I.
II.
In the afternoon, we went on a hike.
In the evening, we made popcorn with a cute little popcorn cage that we held over the fire. I made a couple of batches and timed it: six minutes to pop over good coals. Martin wanted to make a batch, so I filled up the cage with corn. Wanting to be a guy and beat my six-minute average, he tossed a couple of logs on the coals to build up a roaring guy-style camp fire. Unfortunately, Martin never did spend much time studying the physics of campfires and did not know that before you get a roaring flame, the logs have to catch fire. Then after you get a roaring flame, you have to wait for good coals or you just burn the kernels. It took him a good 20 minutes of shaking those kernels over the cold fire in an uncomfortable squat position before I relieved his suffering by moving aside the logs to reveal the coals. Sorry, Martin. Sometimes, it hurts to be a guy.
