I read an article that challenged you to take a photo, paying attention to the composition and settings, no after click touch ups allowed. No cropping or photoshopping, what you click is what you get, the simple truth. Here are a few examples, my favourite shots of Kauai:
And I was the one who didn't want to go, preferring the more relaxing aspects of a cruise. I was wrong. Paradise is the only way to describe Kauai. We stayed five nights in the south and six nights in the north of the island. In both spots there seems to be a tradition of people gathering at sunset to take amazing pictures. Sunset in the south:
The sun melting into the ocean:
Sunset in the north:
And a group shot, sunset closer to the west coast of Kauai.
In case you don't recognize us, that's Chuck, me, Blogless Marsha and Dave:
It's the last for now, I promise. Last week's watercolour class was a scene I wouldn't have believed if I hadn't seen the picture with my own two eyes. It's a tree growing out of a crevasse in Enchanted Rock State Natural Area in Texas:
How is that possible? After researching batholiths, it's quite explainable. I do believe I need to see this one in person someday.
Next post: While knitting in Hawaii I discovered the inability to post from my ipad. Next post, though, I'll be able to share with you some retrospective knitting from paradise. My plan is to play catch up by posting twice per week.
Time for more painting. My watercolour teacher shares my love of trees. In his class I have painted birches, black oaks, fir trees, deciduous trees, palms, trees in winter, some in summer, the gamut. Walking in my daughter's neighbourhood in Calgary I spied a tree that I had to try on my own:
It's a Chokecherry. I have a thing for painting trees and houses, I'm going to concentrate on those for awhile. In between knitting, that is.
Backing away from knitting again, this post has to do with trees. I realized I left out one of my favourite pictures from the Juan de Fuca Trail series:
After a brief foray into a hiking blog, I had to remind myself that this is about knitting.
Sometimes in knitting, one little thing will stall your internal knitting machine, requiring more energy than you have in reserve to get going again. Taize is a slow go, hence its description as a meditative knit. It would be wrong to speed through meditation, so I accept it as the pattern's inherent nature. It's called Taize for a reason.
This is Taize being tinked back seven rows. You can barely see the issue hiding on the right side close to the needles. Three rows that incorporated a few inches of poorly dyed yarn produced a white line of stitches, which as my mother would have said, stuck out like a sore thumb.
If Taize is meditative going forward, it is doubly so moving backwards.
Botanical Beach and beyond:
It was after this point in the day, about seven hours in, that I told Chuck that everything was crying except for my eyes. Another 60+ point: it felt bad at the end of the day's hike, but at least for me, by the next morning I was ready to go again. Who knows how many days that would have lasted?
Nearby Avatar Grove – Canada's gnarliest tree. Notice Chuck miniaturized on the lower right side of the tree:
All's well that ends well. We made it in one piece to meet Blogless Marsha at the hotel in Sooke:
We dubbed her Hikeless Marsha for the weekend.
Final thoughts: be prepared for high log or plank bridges, tree trunk stairs, slippery surfaces, no turning back and no communication with the outside world. But in the end, despite half a black toenail, I had no blisters, a sense of accomplishment and bravery, and physical strength that I had forgotten about. It was good preparation for our post retirement dream of a Camino trek.
One last 60+ thought. With the exception of our group we never encountered anyone over the age of 30 on the trail. Hmmm.
Parkinson to Botanical: the rain forest portion.
Dave says to me, "You look like you just stepped out of the shower!"
"I'm not sure if it's sweat or the rain."
Entering the rain forest portion we read a sign: Do not be surprised if you encounter rain. This rain forest receives 12 feet of precipitation per year. It might as well have read "Cue the rain." Plink, plink and then a downpour.
Covered in a carpet of velvety green moss, this segment was wetter and more slippery than the rain forest of my residence. Next segment: Botanical Beach and beyond.
Day two: Parkinson to Botanical Beach. We decided to change the order of the hike to experience trees and trails of every shape and texture. If you only want to do only one day of the Juan de Fuca trail this is the one to do:
After that drop off, there's a kilometer of beach rock hiking, my favourite part:
Mussel beds:
A watercolour to be:
The wildlife:
Looking back:
Next installment: Parkinson to Botanical – the rain forest.
Meanwhile, back at the camp:
From my years as summer camp staff I knew we needed to have a skit at campfire, so I morphed into the camp fairy and dubbed my mates with their hiking names. I was, of course, Lifesastitch. C was Chuckwagon for his catering duties. Lynn was Bunny Hop because, for a woman of nearly 60, she hops like a bunny on the trail whenever we hike. Dave was Achey Breaky for his audible groans and Jeff, his son, was Pass-a-Pole. Point of advice #4 – alway take a considerate much younger man on your hike to help out in difficult times. On particularly steep points Jeff would offer one hand to take one of my poles (hence, pass a pole) and the other to give me a boost. There is a double entendre here, as I was most often the last in our line of hikers and of Polish decent, so to speak.
Life's a Stitch 
