Nightly play on Moon, sky, water, and lights

Bogumil Paca-Gamalski

Skiing in Nova Scotia

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Have not skied since I left Vancouver. But my last season was probably a year before that. In a dramatic way. Drama and I seem to go in pairs, LOL. My skis and boots were – to say it politely – a bit out of style and advanced in age. Last time I wanted them to be professionally sharpened they said there is not much more steel to sharpen. So I did it myself. The boots needed replacement, too. But didn’t change them. My last skiing was on Mount Seymour overlooking the entire Greater Vancouver. Just the views were spectacular: the entire Indian Arm fiord, Burrard Inlet, Burnaby, Fraser River, Surrey, Vancouver, and the Salish Sea. Breathtaking. That day was foggy, though. Some lifts were closed due to poor visibility. I suppose, because of that the parking lot was almost empty. But the lift going to the peak with the wonderful Black Diamond (advanced) trail downhill was open. I was the only one ‘in the line’ to the lift! I knew the vistas by heart anyway, so I was happy. Went down once and ran quickly for another ride after they warned me that they would shut it down soon due to the poor visibility. Right from the top of the lift, I took a slightly different route, more steep but under the lifts – that way I could just follow the lift and not get lost in the vast terrain covered with fog. Smart. But the trail was narrow and bumpy. After hitting one of the moguls … I went down and one of my skis went the other way, not far though. Once I retrieved it, strangely the boot would not fit into the bindings. What the …, I thought, and pushed it stronger… that is when the boot actually disintegrated, and fell apart in two separate pieces, LOL. A ski boot is not something you can tie or put together, no Jose, LOL. When I finally got back to the lift base with just one boot, the other foot in socks only – the operators couldn’t believe my story. They told me that were starting to worry and were just going to send a patrol to look for me, LOL. That was my last skiing … seven years ago.

I never bothered to buy new equipment in Nova Scotia – it is a gorgeous province for hiking and swimming. But skiing – really? There are two ski hills/resorts. And they are – hills. Not mountains. Went to one once during the summer, near Windsor. And decided not to spend a lot of money on new equipment to use on these … ‘elevated terrain’ resorts. I am not any sort of expert skier, high achiever and show off. But c’mon – for the past almost 50 years I have skied in the high Polish Tatra Mountains (on Kasprowy Wierch resort, 2000 m elevation), and later in the high Rocky Mountains (Banff, Sunshine Valley, Lake Louise, 2600 m elevation) almost all other smaller resorts in BC, and of course Olympic Whistler Resort. Out of all of them (that would include wonderful and definitely overpriced Whistler) the Lake Louise Ski Resort and Sunshine Village in Banff National Park are without any doubt the best. It is just ski paradise there.

Yet, yesterday I felt so down with the neither winter nor fall weather in Halifax recently. Look at the map for the other resort in Nova Scotia – Wentworth. I know this northern part of our province because of my regular drives to Pictou. These hills there are actually mountains, not high mountains by any stretch of the imagination but mountains nonetheless. Checked the prices of tickets for afternoon/evening skiing and voila – I could buy a senior pass! Sixty-five bucks – with full equipment rental. The same pleasure would cost me over three hundred dollars in Whistler! That is insanity.

I bought my tickets online and off I went today. And what a wonderful drive past Truro. Just before the New Brunswick border, take Highway#o4. Very scenic this time of the year, with snow-covered forests and hills to the north. Probably beautiful during late summer and autumn. Traffic was less than light and I could enjoy the scenery. To my surprise, the ski area was not bad at all. No comparison between BC and Alberta – but it was actually a ski area not bad at all. I really enjoyed it. Had to be careful because the snow really was not coming there, either. Yes, a bit – but not nearly enough for skiing. Therefore all trails use mechanical snow-making which is very different and produces a fine texture and depth coverage. Watch out for plentiful icy spots. But you definitely can ski. Also, it was the first time I used the new type of short skies (no one uses the old long ones anymore, LOL). Mind you, in my time the measure of skis was simple: stand straight, raise your arm straight u,p and make sure the ski tips reach your palm. When the attendant asked me if I wanted shorter or longer skis, I naturally said: longer. And she gave me a pair, I looked at them and said: but longer in adult sizes, not a child. She looked at me and replied: they are the longer adult ski. I almost laugh. It is actually easier to make turns in the short ski but still felt funny. Old habits die slow I guess, and welcome to the XXI century, LOL. The Black Diamond trails were closed due to the lack of snow, but the advanced ones were very nice, and fast if you wanted. Couldn’t bring myself to use the Easy ones. I had to have some pride, for Heaven’s sake! Skiing in these child-length skis was bad enough for this old dinosaur.

It was a good day. I will probably do it again, maybe when some good natural snow will finally come in good quantity. It truly makes a difference for skiing. If someone asks me again if you can ski in Nova Scotia, I can finally say: yes. I wouldn’t drive for this experience from Boston or Montreal, but if you happen to visit here in wintertime – yes, you definitely can.

Midnight walk on My Rocks, with a camera

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

During winter it is a bit tricky and not always a pleasureable to go for a midnight stroll. The rocks are very slippery and the water below them – not very inviting, LOL. But it is also so peaceful, so empty from any distractions. And the play of night lights in the water – just a magic in itself. Here is some of the magic captured by the lense.

The same panorama captured a day or two earlier in an early evening. Like two different worlds.

Winter Photography in the town of Pictou, in Nova Scotia

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

There is a certain charm of old, half-forgotten towns in rural Nova Scotia. They used to be important, even powerful – they had regular shipping lines for sailships and steamships; a railway. But the world slowly changed, passed them by. They deteriorated, lost a lot of young people in search of better opportunities. Grand buildings decayed, many churches emptied. Now they try to regain some of the old glory. Mostly through tourism. But the charm never left.

Ostatni – trudny – spacer z Tobą tego roku

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

Plaża Tęczowego Schroniska

przyjechałem tu

szukać ciebie

w dzień ostatni

tego roku

roku przekleństwa

modlitwą o zapomnienie

że był

pierwszego roku kiedy

przestałeś być

pierwszego w którym cię

nie było

nigdzie nie siedziałeś

obok mnie

nie kładłem się w łóżku

obok ciebie

nie nalewałeś mi pierwszej

rannej kawy

nie jechałeś ze mną

na plażę

tą na którą przyjechałem

teraz

szukać ciebie za kolejnym głazem

za wydmą porośniętą trawą ostrą

i nie było cię w żadnej

kryjówce

w żadnym zakamarku

wyłem jak wilk głodny

a nie odpowiedziałeś

rzucałem wściekle

mokrymi kamieniami

w drzewa zawieszone

nad urwiskiem

a milczałeś

nie byłeś

roku potworny

czasie okrutny

roku bogów

obojętnych i głuchych

na prośby

na plaży Tęczowego Schroniska

która była dziś lochem bez dna

więzieniem bez kluczy

bądźcie przeklęci

na wieczność

okrutni bogowie

czasie – bądź zapomniany

że byłeś

niech fala porwie z brzegów

wasze świątynie

i wierze kościelne z zegarem

by czas się w niwecz obrócił

jak piasek rozsypał w głębiach

zimnego oceanu

^{(Rainbow Havens Beach, 31.12.2023)}

Camera, poetry, and Yule in Halifax – with John

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Yule is an old Solitice holiday in Norse and Anglo-Saxon tradition. I was going to visit my husband burial place today. But been there a short time ago. Dont really like going there, especially this time of the year, when it is wet, gray, desolate and sad. Entire summer and autumn I spent almost entirely on wild beaches, secluded spots, where I could be just with him. Talked to him, built forts of stones and sticks to our love and passion. wrote poems to him. And I said today – no more cemeteries. You are here with me, and we are going to do some damage at night time in Halifax. And we went and did.

Yule in Halifax

Do you still notice the odd things

and the normal things, expected?

Did you hear the song of the waves

yesterday – when it came to our feet,

caressing, enveloping them in a soft

foamy embrace like a kiss?

Do you still follow me on these walks,

my walks of our talks, our love and pain?

Forlorn shores of foreign land that

separated us. But it failed, it failed, I say.

I scream – it failed!

The land on the edge of Canada,

precipitously looking at the abyss

of cold North Atlantic waters.

But we walked on these edges

holding hands, touching limbs and lips.

I still pull you, like a fisherman dragging his net

from the bottom of a cold ocean,

and I bring you to my boat and we sail.

We sail, I say.

I scream – we sail!

With the wind in our lungs,

hope in our hearts,

and memory locked forever:

at the sea, in the forest,

on mountaintops and in deep valleys.

Come with me to the narrow streets

of this old town of sailors and soldiers.

Let’s go at night and celebrate Yule.

Celebrate the way we never did

while we were alive!

^{(Halifax, Dec.26.2023; by B. Pacak-Gamalski)}

Christmas Day and the gods of the sky: Sun and Moon. And Poseidon, of course.

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Noc dobra nie była. Dusiła, tańczyła na łóżku, tarmosiła pościel, skrobała pazurami długich stop po podłodze. Telefon zza oceanu o jedenastej rano zbudził z majaków, potem drugi, stamtąd też, ucieszył. A za oknem piękne słońce nowego, bożenarodzeniowego dnia.

Dwie więc wycieczki zrobiłem – pierwszą do Dartmouth, do parku Dillman koło Alderney – a później drugą jazdę na plażę ulubioną koło Lawrencetown – Conrad Beach. W pewnym momencie z nad oceanu świeciła oślepiająco złota grzywa konia z rydwanu Heliosa, a z drugiej, od strony moczar słonowodnych, okrągła, wielka twarz Księżyca w pełni. Czy noc czy dzień do diaska? – pomyślałem i uśmiałem się. A nadbiegająca prędko fala zalała mi buty i zmoczyła skarpety. Chcąc – nie chcąc miałem kąpiel. Nóg tylko co prawda, ale kąpiel jednak. A niżej widoki rannego, bożenarodzinowego Halifaksu i Dartmouth.

The night between Christmas Eve and Christmas was bad. As bad as I suspected it was going to be. Sleepless, despite staying up very late, watching TV, listening to music. Something was moving the covers on my bed, something was scratching the floor, scratching the walls with a long, yellowish toenail. I must have dose off in the morning when an 11 am call woke me up. A happy, good call from the other side of the ocean. With dear voices of very special and dear people. I got up refreshed. The sun was bright outside and I took my camera and went to Dillman Park near Alderney in Dartmouth. Went back home to grab a light breakfast, grab my camera again, and drove to Eastern Shore to my favored Conrad Beach. John liked it, too. It was a gorgeous day there. From the ocean side a huge, flaming head of the Sun-god, opposite the Sun, rising above the marches on clear blue sky, full Moon appeared majestically. Looking with my camera at the two gods of the Sky I did not pay attention to my feet and a quick wave covered my shoes and ankles. Well – it was a beach, it was sunny so I had at a least partial bath. And liked it.

Symphony of colours, baroque music, and chat with you.

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Today was going to be a nice day. I know, you almost suspect that the next sentence would read: but it wasn’t. To a certain degree, you are right: it wasn’t a nice day – it was a splendid day.

The next seven days they say it will be very rainy and extremely windy, stormy. Local floods and power outages are expected. But I must go to Pictou and spend some time with you there. It was going to be, after all, our home. Maybe not the epitome of my dreams – but I know it would make you very happy to be next to your brothers, home by home. And my dear, silly Boy – it isn’t Paris, Warsaw, or Barcelona, not even my dear Vilnius or Prague, where I would be happy. I would be happy working on our last home where you would be happy.

I know, in the end, the Fates had other plans, plans that destroyed ours. But you end up there, in Pictou. With your Mom, your Dad, and now with your older brother, too. It became your home before it had a chance to become mine. Therefore, as Christmas is approaching, I had to go before the storms to be with you.

All the way to Pictou from Halifax, I listened to the best of the best of baroque music. I have said many times that I have very mixed feelings about that epoch in music. I know – Haydn, Bach, Vivaldi, and early Mozart. But, at times it just makes me cringe. It often feels like a tight corset that makes your chest scream for air and freedom. Then again, at times – nothing soothes you better than old, familiar fugue, like an old shirt or warm morning robe. Today was one of these days for baroque. Predictable, well composed, elegant.

Little did I know what you had in plans for me on my way back. A symphony of colours, shades, and hues in the sky I could not imagine possible.

Just one note of my experiences with sunsets: mind you almost my entire life, the adult part anyway, I have spent on the shores of oceans or in the valleys and peaks of big mountains. And many, many years of sailings on ships; I have been to most Polynesian islands and their beaches. In a word – I know a thing or two about sunsets. Yet, nothing prepared me for the gift you made me today on my way back to Halifax.

And you must know of that special part of Highway #1 from New Glasgow to Truro. It is just like someone was planning a road to be a panoramic exhibition. Almost every season. Particularly beautiful during the glory of Autumn, with the dark hues of evergreens mixed with flames of red, yellow, and gold of other trees. At times it is almost dangerous to drive there as you try to concentrate on the highways and not as much on the panoramas. Today – you thanked me for our visit and chat with the sky. It was just breathtaking.

There is also something to say about the spookiness of old, local cemeteries that with certain lithing make you feel like watching some old Poltergeist movies. Just saying.

Tidal Bore of Fundy Bay. Bor przypływu z zatoki Fundy. (part 2/część 2.)

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

At the end of my journey, this fellow met me in Stewiacke

Pamiętacie poprzednią próbę wycieczki śladami potężnego wiertła oceanu, które boruje sobie kanały wzdłuż Nowej Szkocji? Tak po prostu. Włazi sobie w ląd, wyrywa pewnie miliony metrów sześciennych ziemi, boruje kanały i wlewa się swoim żółto-brunatnym mułem. Pamięta skubany, że kiedyś mógł tu skutecznie łączyć się z cieśninami North Cumberland i św. Wawrzyńca i nie był żadną ‘zatoką’ a też cieśniną, nie był zamulony a czysty, jak świeża woda. Nagle wody opadły i Nowa Szkocja z wyspy stała się półwyspem zamykając swobodną wędrówkę wody oceanicznej. No to ta Fundy Bay, która ‘bay’ nie chciała być, pcha się w ten ląd swoją starą drogą. Boruje. Zaczyna to się w okolicach miejscowości Maintland i drąży ziemię. Raczej wiadomo, że wydrąży. Woda , panie dobrodzieju, zawsze była silniejsza od najtwardszych skał. Uparta, ot co. Skała to taka trochę zarozumiała jest. No bo silna, twarda, niewzruszona. Więc siedzi tak sobie nieruchomo pewna swej mocy. A woda to żywa, jak rtęć. Smyk, smyk i już miejsce znajdzie. I zacznie drążyć aż tak wydrąży na około twardej skały, że skała sama się zawali w proszek.

Tamta wycieczka częściowo się tylko udała, bo zachciało mi się ‘bocznych wycieczek’, gdzie w jakiś ostępach leśnych mało nie zniszczyłem swego traka.Wiec dziś pojechałem z surowym sobie danym nakazem: od A do B i wtedy do C. Żadnych bocznych atrakcji. Co prawda, tak zupełnie posłuszny i skoncentrowany na jeździe utartymi szlakami nie byłem i właziłem tam, gdzie były napisy: Halt! Verbotten! No, ale co to płotek niby metalowy, ale nie wyższy niż do klatki piersiowej? Bo niby zima wszystko nieczynne. A co ja niedźwiedź jaki, że zimą mam spać w norze?! Albo dróżka boczna przez las i wzgórza, niby żwirowa a nie asfaltowa ale porządna. No tak, był duży napis, że roboty i stała wielka kobieta w walonkach i żółtym skafandrze z dużym znakiem ‘stop’. Podchodzi do mnie i mówi: reperują most dalej, tylko dla ruchu lokalnego, wracaj do szosy i szosa do głównej trasy. A przecież ja też miałem walonki na sobie, jadę trakiem, jak farmer, więc mówię: ale ja lokalny. No to ona: a, to OK, jedź. Tylko powoli i uważaj na ciężarówy ze żwirem. I pojechałem. Za mostkiem już robót nie było i droga była dobra.

I cała drogę tej wielkiej rzeki-mułu przejechałem, zaglądałem do niej, podziwiałem potęgę natury. Spotkałem orły, choć zdjęć zrobić nie zdążyłem. Zanim kamerę ustawiłem, odleciały za drzewa. Ale wiecie, jak orły wyglądają. Klucze dzikich gęsi za to po niebie szybujące dały się, niby pięciolinie, w obiektywie złapać.

(scroll down to the English part of the article)

On the last day of November as you remember, I went to view the immense power of the tidal bore that starts from Minas Basin around Maitland. At that time my unfortunate side trips took so much time, that when I eventually arrived to view the brown mud-river – it was too late to properly explore it. A few days later, still not fully recovered from my bad flu, I went again. This time I took a shorter route and no ‘side trips’. Winter offers totally different views. And lack of tourists. Zero. None. Yes, some spots were gated and closed. But the gates were not really that tall and maybe I didn’t see the sign ‘closed for the season’? Who knows. I was there and the river was there and we had to meet somehow. So we did. The rest is history. The Tidal Bore is an absolute must to see. Such immense power of the ocean tides and the constant struggle of the land against it. A struggle the land will eventually lose. But observing it is something to admire. Nature has so much majesty. I took this time Highway 102 to Shubenacadie and #215 to Maintland. Came back by scenic Riverside Road that follows the flow of the Channel (called also Subenacadie River).