Posts Tagged ‘Gun Lake’

 

 

Hi, this is my first picture of this entry.

In the bay, there is a person in the water of the lake among the trees between the mountains.

It is a beautiful day, but this refreshment is fed by glaciers and is cold.

And she’s coming to visit me where I cower upon the edge of a dock I photographed 4 years ago. But let us rewind a little.

This happened one evening in our town while I was finishing off ‘Platform’ by Houellebecq in August. I enjoyed all of it happening. But what I wanted to happen for most of the summer was forest fires to stop burning, roads to open and a vehicle to take me with special people to the family cabin. Well, eventually it happened.

And we were on our way.

We pulled down the soft driveway over pine needles and into silence early in the morning. It must have been nearly 3 am if it hadn’t already passed.

And in the following day I watched my nephew, Weston, crawl around the same grounds, picking up the same sticks and tripping over the same veins of the earth that I once had during the same age.

Because it’s an isolated environment many things never leave and seem to last forever, like toys, and so he set to fill the same trucks with the same dirt I used to haul in my childhood.

I think it was actually one of the strongest emotions I’ve ever felt.

And here I am at this dock again…

So I thought I’d wander around and raise the elbows at various objects. The condition of this tree actually makes me a little nervous. This point of view betrays the scary angle its hanging at today. The Gun Lake Noise-Makers is us, my family, or at least it used to be back in the 70s. Most of the noise seems to have come before my time.

The trucks used to roll across here for sure, among the alien moss and fungus formations.

He’s new.

He is not.

Think I edited these when my eyes were crossed.

The dump truck has a lever with that ball attached on the end and it manipulates the angle of the truck bed. The truck on the right has foam paddles attached to the front axle and when it rolls it scoops things up from the ground back in to the bed of the truck from underneath. In my opinion these are both good ideas for toy trucks.

My sister was hunting through the past too.

Although we don’t see much of a sunset from our position on the lake, later in the day a tranquil ambiance descends as the light reflects gently off the water.

While our first evening set in we brought out some beer. Somebody was a little anxious cracking theirs.

Lacking the thought of something to play I motioned that we take a simple chord progression from a Nightwish song and turn it into a wilderness folk-jam.

No, I didn’t sing it.

We made fajitas for dinner.

Although this is now ‘the kitchen’ now, there used to be 4 dirt bikes lined up in this corner all my life. They made good towel racks, said my sister.

The art did not evade me for long.

This place is looking a lot different than it did four years ago.

But I guess being there in the fall helped to bare the trees for the light. Also I had bigger balls, shooting wide open.

Maybe that one would make more sense during a different season or at a better time of day.

All of this has happened before, and all of this will happen again.

If it was the light before noon that gave me trouble it, it gave me other things as well.

Something quite anonymous.

Another structure, less anonymous.

Having wandered a while I wanted next to be stationary and shoot at some cans.

The look of failure.

More super-productive jamming happened throughout our stay.

And on the last afternoon there we realized something.

Weston will feed a horse all day long.

It doesn’t really matter if the horse is not real, or if all he’s got to feed the horse with is branches and dirt.

We went for a walk and I managed to convince my sister it would be a good idea to wear the horse for a while.

If ever a photo needed to be printed, framed and hung on the wall…

Hmm, nice moment to reflect upon.

He was completely uninterested in becoming the horse, unfortunately. Not that I blame him, it’s a rather isolating and claustrophobic environment to be in.

Putting things in your mouth though, you usually can’t beat that for a good time.

We stayed at the cabin for 4 nights. Just enough time to finally unwind and be comfortable, then it’s time to pack up and leave. And we had planned to leave at 11 am! Well in the morning I asked Randall to give some assistance making some artistic portraits. Especially because inside I had found in a stack of children’s books this book titled ‘Horses’. I thought it’d kind of be just like a dude sitting on the porch reading ‘People’ magazine.

I knew the light at that angle wasn’t going to work so I gave my position a turn and got a bit sophisticated.

On the road back home, just outside the town of Lillooet it was necessary to make a brief stop.

The horse child had an accident keeping his breakfast stored in his stomach. He got cleaned up and the remains were buried in the gravel.

Spirits were raised.

It almost seemed like he was emulating me there.

Nearly 7 hours later we were back to civilization.

A gesture which speaks volumes.

I think that’s it for now. Thanks for having this party with me. Bye.