Since I likely shall not get to do as much publishing as normal over the next week or so, I would share with our readers a bit of vacation experience. (And, according to some of you, a period of decompression which I’ve been badly in need of. I agree. I’ve been much more short tempered of late, and I offer my apologies for that.) In any event, if you click on the thumbnail image in the upper left, you’ll get a brief taste of what I’m currently up to. (Warning: The full size picture is quite large and may take some time to load if you’re on a slow connection.)
That’s the view from under a tree, taken yesterday evening a few yards from the cabin where I’m currently holed up. We’re up in the mountains at the family camp near the Canadian border. Longtime readers may recall some of the photos and experiences I’ve shared from here in years past, but it’s always like a new experience every time you see it. In terms of remote locations, this is out there. The trip here involves many hours in the truck, followed by more travel by portage and boat after you run out of roads. The air, on a calm day, is crystal clear as are the waters of this mountain lake.
At night, the galaxy is on display in a way that you’ll simply never see in or near a city or other common habitats. We’re many, many miles from the nearest collection of buildings which one could only charitably call a “town” and there is virtually no ambient light pollution. When you shut off the lights at camp on a cloudy night, it’s roughly the same as being at the bottom of a mine, but on a clear night you can see the full band of the Milky Way and more stars than you can imagine.
The weather changes here on a dime… clear, sunny and breezy one moment, and in less then five minutes there can be a real Wrath of God thunderstorm battering the entire area. This can make for some interesting adventures if you venture out onto the lake for some fishing in one of the boats. Of course, there is also good fishing to be had from the rocky shoreline, closer to shelter.
The score thus far in terms of fish caught by Jazz: Zero.
We can hear them taunting us, precious. Oh yesssssss, we can.