NATURE AS BALM
sunrise at Point Pelee, landscape painting, light
Waking up early has become a thing as I have gotten a bit older. Yesterday, I woke up at beyond early, leaving my house at around four thirty to head out to Point Pelee to meet some friends to see the sunrise. I found myself running errands: getting gas, a take-out coffee, and found it sort of funny to be conducting these things in what felt like the middle of the night. I was thinking, as I pumped my gas, it is a different experience to plan to meet nature than it is to simply run into it along my path. It has a different feeling. I felt sort of how the nervous camper might, preparing for all things that might be needed. So, getting older, I have also become more tuned into preparedness. I was never a nervous camper, flinging myself without too much thought into the wilderness in BC when I was young. Now, I found myself considering a car wash while pumping my gas at four am, wondering if I should have worn heavier socks. If I remembered my water.
I am laughing as I write this, as I used to take dangerous old hydro roads in the British Columbia wilderness in an old Dodge window van, sort of hoping I would have enough gas, and that that van would continue to run. Considering how little I paid attention to its maintenance and care, that was a miracle in itself. I would perhaps have twenty bucks to ride out the experience, and I am positive I didn’t have a spare tire OR a jack. Luckily, it was always fine, but I am noticing the way aging exaggerates the impetus to survive/the stupidity of youth here as I write.
I also am thinking about nature and the idea of how few truly wild spaces we have. Pelee, while beautiful, is definitely programmed and is about as safe as going to the grocery store. Needless to say, I had a full tank of gas and a bag of essentials to survive the afternoon. As it turns out, my car was nice and clean as well. I might make it out alive.
I am sure you are not surprised that I survived my afternoon at the point.
Meeting nature purposely. Planning to meet her. While standing up high on the look out, waiting for the sun to peek out, I became so interested in observing the way light changes colour. I was paying attention to one particular group of willows along the shore of the marsh and took a few photos of them while the sun went through its paces. It was really nice to study this. To see how colour also is a story in the duration of time/time of day.
Going to meet the sunrise reminded me of painting en plein air. To be actively out in the world meeting subject. I love painting this way. I found myself fondly remembering all of the ways that I have taken my oils and boards out into the world. My favourite is to take my bike. A few years ago, I spent hours perfecting how I would pack and carry everything in my saddle bags and on my panniers. I even had a little system in my bike basket for holding more than one painting on the way back. It is such a beautiful experience to be with oneself in this way; a little exposed, in process, in the world. I made a date with myself to return to the point with my rig and to spend some good time in nature making work this year.
I returned yesterday afternoon, mostly unscathed, as I had a wee fall when a man made gravel path became an avalanche underneath me, while I stood on the edge of it trying to take a photo of a turtle. Dangerous stuff. A wee skinned knee.
If you haven’t been to the point, I recommend this. To be the first there, without a soul was very special. We even beat the birders, and that is saying something. I am always astounded at how being in the fresh air takes away the worries of the world. It was honestly so relaxing to be somewhere where nobody needed a thing from me. Making the effort to be outside of my regular hours provided me with an access point to nature that, if I were in clock time hustling, I would think I didn’t have time for. It gave me a good blueprint for this summer. To actively meet nature. To actively step out of stress and obligation. To keep going on this path. To take my paints with me. To make time.
I circle back to the days in the BC bush. I remember the first time I went out to Anderson Lake from Whistler. Oddly, I had run into an old friend from Windsor in Whistler, who had a wee growing/trimming operation out in the bush. He invited me up to his one hundred year old cabin and I said yes. He told me to drive to D’Arcy, a small community at the mouth of Anderson lake, where at the time, there was an abandoned lodge. I was to park my van there and flag the train with a metal flag that had to be inserted into a particular spot at a particular time. The train stopped and I got on with my pack and my guitar. I asked to be let off at Bedrock, where A told me he would pick me up. After a while, the train stopped and I was let off. On a piece of bedrock that outcropped into the Anderson Lake. I had stupidly thought it was a small community. What I was met with was the bush. Like, nature. I was in nature alone, with no sign of A. No food, no water. Just a little hippy girl in the bush in the mid nineties. With a guitar to haul around to boot.
I waited. No A.
I waited longer. No A.
It really strikes you, when you realize just how vulnerable you are in the power of nature.
This is long enough. I will finish this story tomorrow. The story of a city girl, a guitar, a missing rendezvous and the bush. Remember, it was the nineties, and so, while I did have a cel, there was not a tower in sight.
