Tag: Photography

Bear Creek Park w Surrey

Bear Creek Park w Surrey

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

Wśród licznych i słynnych parków miejskich w Wielkim Vancouverze niezbyt często słychać tą nazwę: Park Niedźwiedziego Potoku. W broszurach turystycznych znajdziecie informacje oczywiście o Stanley Park, o Parku Królowej Elżbiety, o Ogrodach Van Dusen. A Bear Creek Park w Centrum Surrey jest warty każdej minuty tam spędzonej – dla spacerowiczów, dla sportowców, dla amatorów sztuki.

Dla mnie ma też bardzo silny wymiar emocjonalny związany z masą wspomnień i wizyt tam od wielu, wielu lat.

Among many world-famous parks in Greater Vancouver you might not find mentions of Bear Creek Park. More than likely you will hear of Stanley Park, Van Dusen Gardens, Queen Elizabeth Park, perhaps Central Park in Burnaby. The truth is that located near Downtown Surrey, Bear Creek Park has a lot to offer. It is an amazing conglomerate of long trails, has a big Art Centre, large outdoor stadium, even swimming pool. Don’t forget lovely and magical little train for young passengers! For myself? A huge bag of sweet memories of many visits by myself and with people very close to my heart.

I fioletowa jacaranda. Strojna, jak Pani Pompadour, jak księżniczka hinduska na dworze maharadży. Jacaranda, która zapachniała po raz pierwszy dla mnie ponad pół wieku temu w pięknym eseju Pablo Nerudy. Iwaszkiewicz bardzo pięknie ten esej przetłumaczył w jednym z wydań miesięcznika “Poezji”. Były to lata 70te ubiegłego stulecia, miałem chyba 16 lat? Zapachniała mi wtedy słodko, odurzająco. Tak, jak teraz ta jaccaranda w Surrey, w Parku Niedźwiedziowego Strumienia. Jest ta sama, w tym samym miejscu, gdzie odwiedzałem ją 15-20 lat temu. Przychodziłem sam, z mamą, z Damiankiem, z Johnem. Łaziliśmy tu w dni letnie, wiosenne, czasem przyjeżdżałem rowerem. I zawsze ja witałem, jako dobrą znajomą. Kochankę Nerudy? Może moją?

W lokalnym Centrum Sztuki i teatrze organizowałem z Krystyną Połubińska i naszym ‘Pegazem’ wystawy lokalnej sztuki polskich artystów, koncerty muzyki.

Słyszę śmiech mamy i Damianka, gdy żartowali ze mnie. I ja śmiałem się z nimi serdecznie, bo gniewać się na nich nie potrafiłem. Miło jest wrócić do miejsc, w których kiedyś byłem. Ale to smutny uśmiech. Po prawdzie nie jestem pewny, że tu jestem teraz. Może i ja tamten już nie istnieję? Może jestem tylko jego cieniem, niewyraźnym odbiciem w wodzie. Mój świat jakby został zamknięty przez Czarodzieja Czasu w szklanej kuli. Ludzie podchodzą i oglądają. Napis objaśniający przed kulą zaczyna się od słów: ‘Był tu kiedyś …’. Był. Kiedyś.

A jacaranda kiwa gałązkami, jak głową. Mówi: Nie prawda. Ja cię poznałam i od razu zawołałam: jesteś tu, dawno cię nie widziałam. Dobrze, że wróciłeś. Idź w swoje ścieżki, w knieje. Jeżyny w tym roku obrodziły.

To poszedłem i pełne garście czerwonych i żółtych połykałem i tym śmiesznym zajęciem poczułem się u siebie.

Part II of things lost, but found later

Part II of things lost, but found later

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

My previous post In Polish dealt with my panic, after I realized that I have lost two days. Can you imagine the truly cosmic consequences for the future if two days were really lost?! Entire galaxies might have never been formed, civilizations not born.

But that was not as tragic (or comic) the other day, when I realized I have lost a poem. My own, and one I was certain I have written. I have checked all my notebooks – there is unfortunately a big array of them lying on the tables, on bookshelves, in drawers. Hardly ever my poems are being written originally on a computer or typewriter (yes, I am old and used to have and used typewriters, the first one was not even electric, LOL). But the poem was nowhere to be found.

I was certain that I wrote it yesterday while being on a rocky beach in South Surrey. It was low tide in the massive Mud Bay. That water retreated quite a bit and exposed very shallow patches full of little life creatures in it, as in any healthy sea.

I was sitting there sun tanning and observing absolutely crazy dance-ritual of eagles helping themselves to this amazing sea buffet. That observation led me to writing right there a poem about the eagles, therefore it means that I had with me one of my notebooks. Another peculiarity of mine is always adding a date of my writing. The date connects it to indexing it, but – for myself anyway – opens an emotional connection within me with particular time of my life, particular place. Hence, when I rummaged through my notebooks I didn’t bother reading the text; instead I simply quickly glanced for the date ‘June 08, 2025’. And there wasn’t anything with that date in recent entries. Zilch, zero. The last entry in a notebook I suspect the most, had a date ‘June 08, 2024’.  Yes, it even mentioned the place ‘Crescent Beach’. You would think I would realize that obvious mistake, since in 2024 I couldn’t have possibly be on Crescent Beach in Britsh Columbia. In June 2024 I was still in Halifax in Nova Scotia! Right? No, wrong! You see, there is one of the most beautiful beaches in Canada only an hour drive from Halifax toward Sambro. It is without a doubt a gem of unparallel beauty, a marvel.  It is called … Crystal Crescent Beach, LOL. I have simply not registered one world ‘Crystal’ and it created the entire confusion.  In exasperation I was left with no choice but to read the actual text under the date. Yes, it was my poem about the eagles from Crescent Beach in South Surrey.  For some reasons, when I was writing down the date, I wrote 2024 instead 2025.

A partial return to sanity was possible. And a poem was found, as you can see below.

Eagle’s joy

The eagles are dancing,

they are dancing with joy,

with abundance of life.

Shallow waters before the tide,

brings Pandora’s box of snacks:

morsels worth the king tables;

the powerful emperors of skies.

Dance! I won’t disturb your joy,

I’m just a scribe to chronicle

your royal entourage, vivante royal,

above us, mere earthlings and scribes.

What do you see, when you look down

per chance at us, o Mighty Skywalker?

Eagles thought for a moment and answered:

We see you all like silvery fish thrown by wave

on the rocky beach. Your pink skin blinking

as a stardust, your eyes wide open and gills

quivering rapidly like leaves in the wind.

Trying to live a day longer, perhaps a season.

Having received their answer, I gathered

my belongings from the beach: folding chair,

towel, sunscreen, my notebook and sunglasses.

With my backpack full, I began heading home.

Two young naked boys under blue umbrella

were just finishing their picnic. Like a scene

from summery watercolour in a tiny gallery

somewhere in Dover on an English Channel.

Maybe it was Hastings, or Brighton, who knows?

The boys waved to me (from the watercolour?)

and yelled: finished already? Stay! It’s still early.

I laughed at them: No, darlings, I’m done.

But you are not. Enjoy and savor every second of it

A pair of eagles circled above my head approvingly.

Krople słów

Krople słów

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

Perhaps two words in English first: I just noticed myself that my post recently are all (or predominantly) in Polish. Have no idea why. Usually I use Polish when the subject matter is specifically about Poland or Polish people. The truth is I really don’t make a conscious choice about the language I’m using – when I think about it in Polish – I write in Polish; when I think about the subject in English, I write in English. So I have I become more Polish than Canadian suddenly, LOL? I don’t think it is possible. Maybe because of my recent accident I have become by necessity bound to the space of my apartment and most things in it are ‘Polish’: books on shelfs, paintings and photographs on the wall? For some reasons I was also listening to old Polish pop music from the (sic!). Does it mean that when I will go to Poland most of my sentimental stuff of walls and shelfs will be Canadian-English? Perhaps. After all- Canadian English was my language for a big majority of my life, entire adulthood.

But, be it what it is – next post is in Polish, too. For no other reasons but the fact that I thought of it in … Polish, LOL.

Gdy wstajesz tuż przed świtem, świat ledwie budzący się z tobą jest inny. Mów językiem poezji, zapomina o potocznym języku świata praktycznego. Wychodzisz na balkon i gapisz się w ten półsenny budzący się świat. Moment krótki to trwa tylko, ale w tym momencie gadasz, jak ten półsenny wróżbita jakieś wiersze pozbawione formy lub tą formę odrzuciwszy kompletnie. No, bo w takim świecie akcenty, sylaby, podział wersyfikacyjny – jest kompletnie bezużyteczny, nie pasuje w tym świecie półsennym. Świecie przed pierwszą ranną kawą.

Przedświt

Słowa, słowa, słowa;

zdania, jak pytania

kryją się za oknem

w mokrej deszczu mgle.

A ja jeszcze, jeszcze, jeszcze

szukam odpowiedzi na nie.

Znależć chcę te zdanie,

co odpowie na pytanie,

którego nie znam ciągle.

Tylko deszcze, tylko mgły.

słowa, jak ptaki wirujące

w tunelach strumieni kropli

wody, kropli słów niepewnych

świata, siebie wystraszonych.

A ja jeszcze, jeszcze, jeszcze

stoję w oknie mokrym

za firanką mgły, zapłakaną

szybą słów szukających domu.

Słowa bezdomne,

domy milczące,

deszcze zapłakane.

A ja jestem jeszcze

w drodze na łąki,

brzegiem biegu rzek

i ścieżkami strumieni.

Jeszcze tańczę wokół dębu,

jak kapłan Peruna,

jak wróżbita z Wolina

w świątyni Światowida.

Jestem jeszcze.

Jeszcze, jeszcze.

/B. Pacak-Gamalski, 26.04.25/

Central Park w Burnaby

Central Park w Burnaby

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

Urokliwe miejsce. Rozległa, z szerokimi alejkami, wąskimi ścieżkami w ramionach dwóch ruchliwych arterii ( Boundary i Kingsway), przestrzeń szerokiego oddechu, ucieczki. Odpowiednik słynnego Stanley Parku w Vancouverze u brzegów Pacyfiku. Sosny i tuje równie potężne, jak w Stanley. I masa kwitnących krzewów czarnych i czerwonych jeżyn (salmon berries), które czepiają się nogawek i rękawów, gdy wejdziesz w zarośla. Zdarza się ponoć i niedźwiedź, ale nigdy takiego tu nie spotkałem choć ostrzegające tablice były i wtedy i teraz widziałem.

Więc pojechałem wystukiwać laską echa starych spacerów…

Central Park

P-A Renoire

Pozostałeś ten sam, niezmieniony.

To ja się postrzałem, zwolniłem bieg,

nie ty Parku cudowny, stary, młody,

z legendą, wysokimi drzewami otoczony.

Nocą parną od spotkań pasji,

za dnia, jak w Lasku Bulońskim

na polankach zielonych z Renoira,

karminowe wino pragnienia gasi.

Młody mężczyzna przechodzi obok,

uśmiecha się oczami, wargami,

tańczącymi, jak gałęzie wierzb biodrami.

Bezgłośne szepty, spojrzenia, mowa bez słów –

Zmrok za chwilę cicho nadejdzie,

pochylą się, jak szyja Ledy, zielone gałęzie …    

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Queen Victoria would have smiled

Queen Victoria would have smiled

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

In 1856 Major General Richard Moody founded the City as a Capital of the colony of British Columbia.  Actually he named it originally as a Queensborough.  It was no one other than Queen Victoria, who called it a Royal City, and because the Seat of the Power was in Parliament in London – it was formally called a New Westminster.

Hence, it retained that old charm and European – in the Island flavor , of course – style of streets and architecture. The two main streets are Columbia and above it , you guessed it – is naturally Royal Avenue leading to – again, of course – Royal Park.

Eventually much later, in the 1920, Vancouver overtook it by size and population. But the Royal City remained with its stiff upper lip, LOL.

I have not been here for almost a decade. But it feels and looks like nothing has changed.  Naturally, it did. But almost just superficially: it used to be that every second store was a wedding dresses, long tails and suits. There are still few of them and prominently displayed but the majority was replaced with new, metro-style trendy cafes, little restaurants with excellent cuisine,  boulangeries –patiseries (It will be the death of me, considering my weakness for a good cake and pastries, aj wej!), even an excellent exotic and elegant (very handsome perfumer) salon with perfumes called ‘Aromatica’ – that will be the death of my bank account, LOL. Did I mention that salon is exactly next door to an entrance to the building I’m living in? Aj wej!!! There is also rather visible (or audible) musical life here. Back in my first years here there was a popular restaurant/club ‘Heritage Grill’. Used to go there many times for a good music and good drinks. Often with dances, which my Mom used to like very much. While still living in Halifax, the owner notified me that the club was consumed by fire. so now the musicians move to little drinking hole ‘Judge Begbie’s Tavern’ and at least twice a week old singers and players and new aspiring ones gather there for impromptu concerts. Little corner by the door where they perform is called Heritage Grill Corner. Nice. Spent an evening there and had a nice chat with two young singers.

Enough of these ahs! and ohs!. Beter turn to pictures and see for yourself.

Biegając po niebie Running through night sky

Biegając po niebie Running through night sky

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

Nocne niebo kusi, obiecuje, zachwyca. Gwiazdy migocą, szeptają coś,  te małe drobiazgi wydają się biegać, gonić ze śmiechem. Więc goniłem za nimi z kamerą. Nie dały się złapać. Jeno Łysy pilnował swą wielgachną latarnią by swawoli za dużo nie było. Venus troche udało mi sie podejrzeć, gdy krygowała się przed Orionem siedzącym na dyszlu Wielkiego Wozu. Ale Łysy tak silnie świecił, , a Wenus tak się w odległych kątach kryły ze swoimi zalotami, żem ledwie mógł nieco tylko podejrzeć. Com widział, to pokażę.
The night sky today was particularly busy with lovemaking or love-hoping. Although Moon kept an eye for proper behavior and shone huge light to toward the dark corners. Especially were Venus tried to spark an interest in her beauty from handsome Orion. As she tried to hide in the shadows of the night sky - I had hard time to catch her splendor. But what I did - I will show you.

MOON

VENUS

Trails, Sun and Moon above Okanagan Lake

Trails, Sun and Moon above Okanagan Lake

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

During the long Pleistocene there were few glacial movements in what is known now as an Okanagan Valley. It created an amazing mixture of land and water formations near Kelowna. Of course Okanagan Lake, the largest depository and former deepest channel of the glacier as it retreated from these lands. But there is multitude of smaller lakes stretching to Shuswap and Arrow Lakes to the east and multitude of smaller lakes in the mountains and hills surrounding the valley. Between – a maze of streams and small rivers feeding middle size lakes (Maramata, Kalamalka and Wood – to name just a few) or the huge Okanagan Lake.

Today I went for trek to some of the high hills (mind you – still hills, not proper mountains) on the southeast above Kelowna. It is a mixture of grassland and small patches of wooded area with pines and shrubs. Human habitation is ever encroaching there, as people build more and more monstrous mansions higher and higher.  Still, I hiked higher and further. At a certain spot, traversing a deep gully with very steep sides I have noticed a narrow trail from the bottom to the other side. As the gass was half frozen and numerous patches os snow made it slippery, I gladly took that narrow trail. I realized quickly that it was narrow for a good reason – it was not made by other hikers but by animals. The only marks I found were those of coyotes and very distinctive footprints of a bear. As the slopes were very steep, I couldn’t see what was on the other side and ascertain how fresh the footprints were. My chances of running very quickly on that terrain were rather slim. But today our paths did not cross… , LOL.  I followed, were I could, old existing trails: aptly named Hoodoo Trail, Coyote Trail and Grassland Trail. In parts – mostly it was just the grassland and the trails appeared and disappeared under the grass and snow.  

The view from these hills toward the city far away and the mountains above me was just amazing. An eagle was screeching angrily at me – go home! And laughingly I yelled back at him: never you mind, I will not bother you, go away! Which he did flown away from hi s nest on one of the tall pines. The eagle also gave sign that a true spectacle was just about to begin: the absolutely stunning sunset on the west side and almost full moon on the east. It was something to behold. Hope my camera captured part of it. Enjoy.

Back to the trails in 2025 around Kelowna

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Being the last day of the last year  I went yesterday for a longer walk afternoon. Not far, maybe five kilometers, to the base of Toovey Hill in Kelowna. On the walk there I met a wonderful iron biker hurrying up to chase off the old year and bring the new one.  And he did (as most of you I hope noticed, LOL – it is 2025).

But today the New Year is here. Why not – lets continue that walk started yesterday. And take our two dogs (Roko and Czorcik) along for that walk. We did. But why finish where I stopped last night? No point – newer should be better, shouldn’t it? Czorcik (pronounced Chorcheek which means exactly that in Polish – a little devil) being that tiny devil. agreed, LOL.

We went to the bottom of the hill, crossed a busy Highway 33 and ended up by little church and pond there. We went there once before, I recall at that time was still warm Fall, pond was full od ducks and definitely not frozen. Not today, tough. Today it was solidly frozen. I asked loudly: shall we go back home? Simultaneously we both replied: nah, what for? Let’s go further.

And we did. A lovely old windy road settled between orchards and farmhouses took us all the way to the beginning of Mission Creek Park. A park we know both very well, as we walked and hiked there twice. I posted here short photographic memories of the first trip [i].

Here are some more of the pictures from the other end of Mission Creek forest, the less travelled, definitely not touristy road.

[i] Urban Mission Creek Park and a lake on high mountain in wilderness of Okanagan, BC. – > > Pogwarki < <

A chat with the Moon at night

A chat with the Moon at night

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

On My Rocks perched just above the ocean’s channel a night could be a magic place. Summer time especially. The city is still alive till wee hours with happy revelers, some are dancing and singing onboard small tourists boats. The lights of the city dance on the surface of the water and above it is one huge reflector of the stage – full Moon. It slowly sweeps the stage from one end to the other. And behind you, on the shore, in the shrubs and wild flowers comes the other song, the song of old time – the cicada.

Moons and Sycamore tree

One step, check the stones carefully!

They might be slippery in peach black night

and the water below is not the best for swimming.

But is it water indeed down there?

It looks strange with all the lights shining

on the surface, dancing like crazy lady

listening to an old country song from Tennessee.

The moon comes and looks down at the water.

It’s as surprised, as I am, seeing so many of it’s

faces mirrored in it. Two moons, four, six…

It screams at the water:  that’s enough!

You make me dizzy with your witchery!

No one plays banjo anymore, only the one-note

song of the cicadas: I’m here, come, give me a kiss!

Oh, I have seen many moons on summery nights,

six and twelve at once, when I was drunk with love.

I have sung the songs of night birds and early birds,

when sunrise came with another kiss again.

Now no more I sit under the Sycamore tree,

the night breeze sways in long grass,

Savanah sings its sweet longing song.

Crying song, the Moon above is cold.

/B. Pacak-Gamalski, 20.07.2024/