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Goldstream
Nov. 8th, 2008 11:15 pmGoldstream is where the salmon return to breed. The river was thick with solid silver thrashing fish, many half a metre long. They were laying eggs in the shallow parts, where the river was only a few centimetres deep, so their fins and backs stuck up out of the water. Where there were rocks or a barricade, they threw themselves at the obstacle wildly, determined to make it upstream.
I may return in a few weeks; all the fish die, and the eagles feed on them. Apparently, gyotaku is a popular activity, which is making prints using dead fish. I'm not quite sure why.
I explored a little further into the park, though was feeling a little cautious, as cougars are apparently not uncommon. Walking along above the river, and past a waterfall, there were big evergreen trees, mixed with saplings with only a few yellow leaves raggedly hanging on. Decaying black chunks of tree root loomed next to the path. Moss choked every tree trunk, lichen dripped from the branches, and strange, luminous fungi grew in the spaces. Dusk was slowly creeping into this ominous damp place, and so I headed back.
It was full dark when I had bussed back to Victoria, and I picked up Gerda to cycle home. I managed to only cycle off the path once, and that was fairly close to town, on a strangely dark part of the path through Esquimalt. Luckily, it was not a part with ditches at the side. Further north, through Rithet's Bog, there were no human lights to speak of. The moon was half full, but there was also a mist rising, and so even with my torch clutched to my handlebar with my left hand, I was aware that by the time I could spot a bear, I would have cycled into it. Rithet's Bog was where there was a bear sighting a couple of weeks ago. I got home safely.
I may return in a few weeks; all the fish die, and the eagles feed on them. Apparently, gyotaku is a popular activity, which is making prints using dead fish. I'm not quite sure why.
I explored a little further into the park, though was feeling a little cautious, as cougars are apparently not uncommon. Walking along above the river, and past a waterfall, there were big evergreen trees, mixed with saplings with only a few yellow leaves raggedly hanging on. Decaying black chunks of tree root loomed next to the path. Moss choked every tree trunk, lichen dripped from the branches, and strange, luminous fungi grew in the spaces. Dusk was slowly creeping into this ominous damp place, and so I headed back.
It was full dark when I had bussed back to Victoria, and I picked up Gerda to cycle home. I managed to only cycle off the path once, and that was fairly close to town, on a strangely dark part of the path through Esquimalt. Luckily, it was not a part with ditches at the side. Further north, through Rithet's Bog, there were no human lights to speak of. The moon was half full, but there was also a mist rising, and so even with my torch clutched to my handlebar with my left hand, I was aware that by the time I could spot a bear, I would have cycled into it. Rithet's Bog was where there was a bear sighting a couple of weeks ago. I got home safely.
