caycuse

We're back from most of a week in paradise. After five days of canooodling, sleeping, reading, barbecuing, sleeping, kayaking, skateboarding (not me), sleeping, swimming, running, mini golf, drawing, sleeping and playing guitar it's actually kind of a drag to be back ... but at least I have the photographic evidence and a ton of inspiration for future artwork.

Caycuse (a native name meaning scraping the barnacles off the bottom of the canoe) is a tiny settlement (permanent residents: 12) and former logging camp (high population mark: 400 in the '50s) in a remote spot on the south side of Cowichan Lake about 20 km west of Lake Cowichan (figure that out) on Vancouver Island. This was our second time renting the (very comfortable) cottage from a former colleague of Greg's.



It's completely private and has a great 'party dock'. This was where we parked our new baby and pulled the old kayaks out from under the house for fun and shenanigans.

Our first long-distance expedition in the boats was to one of the Picnic Islands. We discovered the hard way that a strong wind picks up mid-afternoon, making the trip both challenging and more than a little hair-raising. This is how it looked on the much calmer leeside of the island where we stopped to catch our breath:



A couple of days later we packed a picnic lunch and headed in the other direction:



We did re-connect with civilization one day as we went into town to get supplies. We suddenly felt an irresistable urge to play a round of mini golf and found this place. The course was great: shabbily overgrown but totally charming and a bargain at $3 per person. Greg confirmed his dominance as alpha male by beating us all -- but it was close...



The total character who owned the place is working on a parade float. I don't even want to know what it all means...




Heading home to Caycuse along the busy working logging road was a terrifying experience. Imagine giant trucks bearing down on you at 80 km/h on a 1 1/2-lane wide dirt road loaded down with massive cedar trees, creating so much dust that you're blinded the minute they (thankfully) pass. One actually didn't see us until the last moment and had to swerve to avoid us. We stopped to photograph some of the breathtaking views. (This is Emily Carr country.)

Odds and Ends, c. 1937

There's always lots of wildlife in the area and the mornings are outrageously beautiful and tranquil. One morning a group of three adult Mergansers treated me to the most amazing display of fishing. They'd dive really deep, often in unison, disappear for ages, then pop up miles away. One of them caught a massive fish bigger than its head and struggled with it for quite awhile before swallowing. When it finally did, its whole head and neck were distorted trying to get the thing down. Less than 30 seconds later it was diving for more!



Time to get back to work (sigh). More photos here.