Phundy photos

This was taken at the Hopewell Rocks, a beautiful geologic formation carved out by the Bay of Fundy's extreme tides.























Our campsite was located just meters away from Wolf Lake, where we heard the loons call every evening. This is a juvenile loon just after sunrise.


















Dixon Falls is a lovely walk (I won't dignify it by calling it a hike - it was all boardwalk and only 1.5 km long) which passes by many secic waterfalls. Good moss. Really, I should have gone into byrology. I just couldn't stop admiring the moss.



















The Salmon River was stunning. As you can see, the weather was perfect, and we didn't encounter any other hikers on the trail. It was easy to fill like we were the only people alive on earth. Beautiful. We went swimming in the river where the waterfalls carved out swimming holes. My god, that water was cold!




















Base camp. I had the little tent to myself. Two of my friends were in the big one next to me. The nights were moist and balmy, save for one when i got zero sleep because i was so cold. That cold, clear night was painfully beautiful. Painful because I lost circulation in all my extremities, beautiful because the stars were perfect and shimmering and clear.












We went for a wildlife-spotting drive one evening. We didn't see any wildlife (save for a rabbit, a frog, and a few squirrels), but we did see this spectacular sunset.













The Bitch herself, standing by a stretch of the Salmon River.

I don't have HBM's gift for narrative, but I'm going to attempt to share some more of the experiences in words. A picture may be worth a thousand, but there are some things of which you can't take a photograph.

Like my stunned surprise when I learned that on the overnight away from base camp at a remote campsite that was only accessible by foot, we would be hiking in over treacherous terrain with a magnum of chardonay and CHEESE FONDUE! (I volunteered to carry the wine and the toilet paper, figuring that would garuntee my safety. The bearer of the booze and the t.p. is the most indespensible person on the trip.)

On my friend's 30th birthday, we celebrated with a dinner of live boiled lobster. This was camping? Who eats lobster when they're camping? I mean besides Earnest Hemmingway...

L's incessant whining. My god, will it ever end?...

Dog dynamics. There were 8 people and 5 dogs on this trip. 3 of the dogs had to be kept out of biting range of one another. The people were even worse. This family operates exactly like a pack of wolves. If you understand canine hierarchies, you can figure them out. Last week I witenessed the ascension of a new alpha male. It was beautiful and terrifying and pitiable, all at once.

Good moss.

Temper tantrums from small children are intolerable. Temper tantrums from GROWN WOMEN make me embarassed to share a gender with such churlish shrews.

Provincial bird: the mostquito.

Running at dawn across Caribou Plain, breath and mist, sweat and steam mingling. Sneakers falling on soft pine needles and gentle ground, total exhileration, absolute liberation. I am primal, primordeal, free, uninhibited, unintimidated. I am flying through time, with dew and geologic eras sailing past me as my legs power me across the terrain.

Followed by blueberry pancakes and bacon.

The flavor of the delicious breeze coming off the bay up the ridge where I hiked the coastline one cerulean afternoon.

Stones of every color, side by side on the sand at low tide, smooth, napping in the sun with the periwinkles.

Living a week in the warm and familiar presence of Wally and Viola, sharing meals again, going about daily life, simple chores in their company, hearing their comforatable voices last thing before I go to bed. It was wonderful and bittersweet. Saying goodbye at the end of the week was a serrated pain in my heart. again. i don't know when we'll next meet. it could be a very long time. I hate that about my life.