Lakehouse Diaries

      The following ramblings are about a real life adventure. I thought it was time to immortalize the story in printed format before a) I get too old to remember b) life goes on for everybody and history is forgotten. This is a true story with some details and names changed to avoid offending anyone. Only those who are intimate with the story will know who the characters are and I do not doubt that perhaps some might be offended. Let it be known that this is the story according to my own personal memories and recollections. Included is "my take on things", realizing that many events are open to interpretation and seen through different eyes, experiences, biases, and general views on life. 

     Let's start at the beginning when Greg and Ethel were approaching possible early retirement after starting and growing a successful business. They heard about some property in the interior of British Columbia, that was on a lake, had a warm dry climate, and was just south of the US/Canada border. Some friends had already purchased in the area and were very encouraging. 

     The idea appealed to Greg and Ethel because in their early married life, they were pioneers in a South American Country and if they bought this piece of barren desert it would be like reliving those early years, except this time they would have the resources to do it properly. It was 1979, the Canadian $$ was just above par, and it was very easy to cross the border in either direction. The children were more or less all grown up and could not only fend for themselves when alone, but could even help with the ambitious project taking place in Greg and Ethel's minds. 

     The realtors were approached, a price ($40,000.00)was agreed upon, and they were soon the proud owners of 3/4 of an acre, right on the lake, but with a whole lot of nothing else, unless sage brush, cactus, and rattle snakes count for something. 

     Their eldest daughter was married with two small children and they were one of the first to visit the 'new property'. Greg and Ethel were staying in a camper van while scouting out the property, drawing lines, measuring, and planning where the house would be, etc. Ethel seemed to only care about where the garden would be, but played an active roll in all plans. The daughter Em and her husband Tod, were a bit shocked at first. They did not have the vision or desire for anything like what they were seeing and were skeptical to say the least. Tod particularly, saw nothing but back-breaking work in the heat and dust, not having a creative bent, but more appreciating that which had already been built or developed. But then, he and his father-in-law were so very different in so many ways. Soon the work would begin in earnest and Tod was content to know that he had his own business to run back home and this would be a project that he would observe from a distance. That was true, to a point. 

Vacation Stroll

 

We like to go for a walk, early morning or early evening, once a day, when we are spending time at our vacation spot on Osoyoos Lake. Our favourite route is north to the spit of land we can see from our balcony. It is a quiet country lane with vacation homes, beaches, docks, lovely trees and friendly people.

Above, busylizzy is standing so that our cabin is directly behind her head. Our walk extends further north, almost to the border and then back home along the orchard roads that parallel the highway. It is about 4 kilometers, much more when it is hot.

 

This is one of our favourite spots on the walk. The cabin is immaculate, though it is easy to see it has been there for many, many years. Everything is freshly painted, the yard and flower beds are manicured, and the nice little touches are the tiny lights in the trees at dusk, along with a candle holder chandelier hanging in the tree above the picnic table. The view, behind the camera, is full on lake, beach, and desert mountains. We cannot help but stop, and soak it in, every time we walk past.

Early Morning On The Lake

 

    The light is starting to filter into the dark bedroom and it is time to end a night of tossing and turning. The temperature dropped to 32 C by 3 am and now at 6 am it is down to 26 C. Stepping out onto the cooler deck, and then down to the water, is a relief from the hot bedroom and the drone of fans.
      With camera in hand, I indulge in my daily ritual of waiting for the sun to rise in anticipation of taking a unique photo.  It will take a while yet, so I go back to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee. It will be the coolest part of the day and coffee will not be so appealing later in the heat of the day.
      I make myself comfortable at the beach and wait. I watch and I listen and begin to realise that there is a lot going on at this early hour. There is only a breath of wind, hardly enough to break the calm demeanour of the surface of the lake. I am surprised to see the family of Mergansers swim past me without breaking their stride. They are not scooting forward with their heads under the water as they do some mornings, a strange and entertaining antic that these birds are known for.  They are swimming in perfect formation and eventually disappear around the other side of the boat.
      I am startled by a large fish jumping out of the water with a loud splash, not more than twenty feet away. He is one of the lucky ones who is still alive as the heat wave has taken a toll on the newly added sockeye salmon, leaving a half dozen dead ones on the beach by the end of each day.
     Out of the bay to the north I hear a ski boat. What a perfect time of day to water ski, with no wind, and calm smooth water! It is only one boat, and at a distance, so it does not disturb the peaceful morning as I thought it would. I patiently watch as the boat's wake slowly but surely makes its way toward my beach. As the rhythmic waves break onto shore, I am delighted to see the angle of the light casts diamond like reflections along one small stretch of shoreline.
     The light is getting stronger and I know from yesterday exactly where the sun will break over the eastern shore. There is little colour in the sky this morning which is surprising because of all the smoke from the forest fires to the south. It must have drifted away overnight.
     In the corner of my vision I see a Kingfisher land in the Willow tree to my right. These are very shy birds and as long he does not sense my presence, I may just get a photo. Before I can raise my camera, he darts out of the tree and like a rocket hits the water about 50 ft. out. He struggles to the surface after having gone right under, and flaps his way back to the tree. Again I slowly raise my camera. Again he rockets out of the tree and this time he comes up with  a two inch minnow in his beak. I can just see enough of him on his perch to see that he is struggling to angle the fish the right way so he can swallow it. And then down it goes. Seconds later, he is diving into the water again, and again comes up with a small fish. This time he flies off with the fish wiggling in the clutches of his beak, no doubt going to a nest where he will be breakfast for the youngsters.
   

     I did not get the photo but was rewarded with a rare experience, like when the big owl flew out of the night and onto our windsock pole only the previous evening. It was only a few feet from where we were sitting on the sundeck just after dark. We froze and I debated about getting my camera, but before I could make a move, he whispered off into the night as suddenly and as silently as he had come.
      And now the sun is just breaking over the mountain ridge, a slit of brilliant light throwing diffused rosy light to the underside of the scattered clouds above Anarchist Mountain. By now the resident Sparrow family is busy feeding its young and there is constant chirping. The quails are scurrying in and out of the hedge row, snatching a cool drink from the drip irrigation. A fisherman's boat has anchored not too far away and I hear muffled voices as they set up for another morning of fishing. In the distance I hear the chatter of a sprinkler system beginning its day's work.  And there is a faint barking of a dog, the sound of a motorcycle gearing down as it approaches the border station, and is that a baby I hear softly crying? The world of Oroville is waking and coming to life.
    The sun is now fully up and I can feel its heat already.  It will be another warm one unless those towering cumulus clouds in the south develop into a storm. We have no devices standing by on our vacations so I do not know the weather forecast, nor do I care to hear it. I am taking life one day at a time, and one hour at a time, savouring the moment, drinking in the beauty and the experience. The more deeply I can impress these images into my mind, the more vivid will be the memories in the coming dark winter months.
   Many before me have, and many after me will, experience these same pleasures. To observe, to really watch and listen, and then to remember, is a gift to treasure. Memories sustain us through difficult times as we transport ourselves back in time when all was peaceful, calm, and all was right in the world.

Belly Up

 

Over the last few years, Osoyoos Lake has been stocked with salmon. Apparently it has been a success as we witnessed almost daily the fishermen, a few hundred yards off our beach, hooting and hollering as they reeled in another one.

Unfortunately, the lake temperature is rather on the warm side and these fish get quite stressed as the this happens.

Every morning there were three or four of these otherwise healthy looking fish, about 14 inches long, floating dead on the beach. One could always see a half dozen off shore as well. The inland seagulls were overwhelmed and something they would usually relish, became too much of a good thing. They got picky and plucked the eyes out only, leaving the carcass to drift to shore. I buried many of them under the trees and every one was sightless, so to speak. Too bad, really, because they looked good enough to throw on the BBQ.

In America

 

When in Oroville WA. we enjoy our evening walks as the day cools down. There is always something interesting to see so I never go without my camera. Above is a derelict fire hydrant sitting in the middle of nowhere. It is not well maintained so I doubt it works. A fire hydrant in the desert is a bit of a contradiction, but there may have been buildings near by at one time.

 

Our neighbours to the north had an outdoor party at sunset one evening and I thought the silhouettes were kind of cool. They are one of two American neighbours that we have in a large community in our bay.

 

And, of course, Americans drape the flag over just about anything. I like the look of their flag and I greatly admire their patriotism.

As Morning Breaks

 

The light is starting to filter into the dark bedroom and it is time to end a night of tossing and turning. The temperature dropped to 32 C by 3 am and now at 6 am it is down to 26 C. Stepping out onto the cooler deck, and then down to the water, is a relief from the hot bedroom and the drone of fans.

      With camera in hand, I indulge in my daily ritual of waiting for the sun to rise in anticipation of taking a unique photo.  It will take a while yet, so I go back to the kitchen and make a cup of coffee. It will be the coolest part of the day and coffee will not be so appealing later in the heat of the day.

      I make myself comfortable at the beach and wait. I watch and I listen and begin to realise that there is a lot going on at this early hour. There is only a breath of wind, hardly enough to break the calm demeanour of the surface of the lake. I am surprised to see the family of Mergansers swim past me without breaking their stride. They are not scooting forward with their heads under the water as they do some mornings, a strange and entertaining antic that these birds are known for.  They are swimming in perfect formation and eventually disappear around the other side of the boat.

      I am startled by a large fish jumping out of the water with a loud splash, not more than twenty feet away. He is one of the lucky ones who is still alive as the heat wave has taken a toll on the newly added sockeye salmon, leaving a half dozen dead ones on the beach by the end of each day.

     Out of the bay to the north I hear a ski boat. What a perfect time of day to water ski, with no wind, and calm smooth water! It is only one boat, and at a distance, so it does not disturb the peaceful morning as I thought it would. I patiently watch as the boat’s wake slowly but surely makes its way toward my beach. As the rhythmic waves break onto shore, I am delighted to see the angle of the light casts diamond like reflections along one small stretch of shoreline.

     The light is getting stronger and I know from yesterday exactly where the sun will break over the eastern shore. There is little colour in the sky this morning which is surprising because of all the smoke from the forest fires to the south. It must have drifted away overnight.

     Out of the corner of my vision I see a Kingfisher land in the Willow to my right. These are very shy birds and as long he does not sense my presence, I may just get a photo. Before I can raise my camera, he darts out of the tree and like a rocket hits the water about 50 ft. out. He struggles to the surface after having gone right under, and flaps his way back to the tree. Again I slowly raise my camera. Again he rockets out of the tree and this time he comes up with  a two inch minnow in his beak. I can just see enough of him on his perch to see that he is struggling to angle the fish the right way so he can swallow it. And then down it goes. Seconds later, he is diving into the water again, and again comes up with a small fish. This time he flies off with the fish wiggling in the clutches of his beak, no doubt going to a nest where he will be breakfast for the youngsters.

     I did not get the photo but was rewarded with a rare experience, like when the big owl flew out of the night and onto our windsock pole only the previous evening. It was only a few feet from where we were sitting on the sundeck just after dark. We froze and I debated about getting my camera, but before I could make a move, he whispered off into the night as suddenly and as silently as he had come.

    And now the sun is just breaking over the mountain ridge, a slit of brilliant light throwing diffused rosy light to the underside of the scattered clouds above Anarchist Mountain. By now the resident Sparrow family is busy feeding its young and there is constant chirping. The quails are scurrying in and out of the hedge row, snatching a cool drink from the drip irrigation. A fisherman’s boat has anchored not too far away and I hear muffled voices as they set up for another morning of fishing. In the distance I hear the chatter of a sprinkler system beginning its day’s work.  And there is a faint barking of a dog, the sound of a motorcycle gearing down as it approaches the border station, and is that a baby I hear softly crying? The world of Oroville is waking and coming to life.

    The sun is now fully up and I can feel its heat already.  It will be another warm one unless those towering cumulus clouds in the south develop into a storm. We have no devices standing by on our vacations so I do not know the weather forecast, nor do I care to hear it. I am taking life one day at a time, and one hour at a time, savouring the moment, drinking in the beauty and the experience. The more deeply I can impress these images into my mind, the more vivid will be the memories in the coming dark winter months.

    Many before me have, and many after me will, experience these same pleasures. To observe, to really watch and listen, and then to remember, is a gift to treasure. Memories sustain us through difficult times as we transport ourselves back in time when all was peaceful, calm, and all was right in the world.  

The Many Moods of Lake Osoyoos

 

A lot of my time, on our holiday in Oroville, is spent simply soaking in the beauty that is spread out before us. It is ever changing, ever beautiful. Day to day, hour to hour, there was constant change this year. A clear sunny sky can get mundane after a while.

 

Desert rain seems to come in two varieties, torrential downpour or gentle showers. We had both, but only for one 24 hr. period. It was welcome after three days of oppressive heat that would only cool by two degrees at night.

 

Surprisingly, for the uninitiated, some of the best colour in the skies comes at sunset and is displayed in the east. Not one photo is this post is a sunrise, but all photos are pointing east or north.

 

 

 

This was a particularly eerie evening as the sky overhead was dark with storm clouds and then in the north, over Osoyoos, came a white glow from clearing northern skies.

 

Looking south at sunset.

 

And north at sunset. If we look west at sunset there is a very large and close steep mountain that totally blocks the view.

 

Ever changing and more beautiful by the minute.

 

Looking northeast we often see clouds like this, resembling the billowing smoke of a forest fire over the ridge.

 

We do not get clouds like this at home, in combination with crystal clear air. Ever changing and ever beautiful, I come home with way too many cloud pictures, but no two are the same. Please look at them large and you will get a feel for what it is like to spend a day sky gazing in Oroville.

Jungle Fire

 

Little did we know what each day would hold as we arose to greet the rising sun. On this day, about mid-vacation, we were visiting beside the pool with some new friends from Whitby Ontario when I noticed billows of white smoke rising behind block six.

 

I grabbed my camera and we climbed the back stairs of the hotel block where the hallways were open to the southeast, and we would have a clear view of source of the smoke. There, in a gully that runs perpendicular to the small road adjoining the resorts, was a raging fire, no doubt the result of a tossed butt.

 

This area consists of dry jungle and had it not been for heavy rains in November, this whole area would have gone up like a torch. As it was, it burned hot and slow, with only a slight breeze off the water.

 

We were not concerned for the hotel as there was quite a wide buffer between the fire and the all concrete construction hotel. Maybe that it why there was such a slow response. In all, there were probably 20 acres or more involved by the end and a lot of scorched trees, which were showing up brown by the end of the following week. It took a good 30 minutes before the first responders arrived on scene, and they were not well equipped. The equipment was make up of a red pick-up with two girls and a large water jug, two 'firefighters' who were flogging the edges of the fire with wet rags, and eventually a police car and one tanker truck with a very effective high pressure hose on the front bumper.  

 

They worked away at the fire for the rest of the afternoon and would leave every twenty minutes to re-fill the water tank. Eventually, by early evening, they left with the fire still smouldering in spots. Three days latter they were still putting out hot spots. In Canada, one sweep with a water bomber would taken care of it in the first few minutes.

 

It is rare to see a sense of urgency in Mexico. It was not evident here at all. After being on the hot side of the hotel and watching all the smoke, flame, and inaction, I had a sense of urgency to hit the pool and cool down. Ahh. That feels better.

 

The very red sunset that night might have been from the bush fire smoke, had the wind been the other direction. This is just a red Mexican sunset which happens almost every night.

New Year Reflections

 

Christmas of 2013 was a bit unusual for us. We have been away at Christmas a few times in the past, but never just before Christmas. One of the aspects of the Christmas season that I do not care for is the inundation of commercialism and the overload of Christmas music that starts just after Halloween and reaches it crescendo on Christmas Eve. By Christmas day I am done with it all and find that I do not enjoy it like I used to.

This year we missed almost all of the aspects of Christmas that I do not like.

 

We arrived home on the morning of Dec. 22 and had no need for any shopping as that had all been done beforehand. We had not heard any Christmas music while we gone, so it was more than welcome as we cranked up the tunes in our own warm and cozy house. By the time I attended the Christmas Eve service at church, I was ready, as opposed to done. Overall, the experience was very different and I liked it a lot.  

 

Our culture overdoes Christmas for a very simple reason. It is the biggest retail season of the year and many businesses will make it or break it based on Christmas season sales. So naturally, there is the accompanying advertising and hype that goes with retail push. The birth of Christ becomes secondary. Worse than that, The associations that children make are skewed, and so much of that carries on into adulthood. Having just spent Advent in a country that does not make a big deal of Christmas, it made me realise that I had to take the time to think about and concentrate on what Christmas meant for me. Nobody was in my face telling me what to think or do. It was all by my initiative if I was to come up with a right frame of mind for Christmas.

 

There was no "Frosty the Snowman", "Jingle Bells", or "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" while we sat under the stars and full moon, framed by Palm trees swaying in the humid tropical breezes. We were far away from Christmas, and yet it was the season.

 

The shepherds were taken by surprise when the angels suddenly announced the birth of Christ. They did not have a month or two of preparation and hype. They were overwhelmed by the joyful celebration that came on so very suddenly, and were comforted by the messengers who told them they did not have to be afraid. I have sometimes been afraid of Christmas, or at least my diminishing attitude toward aspects of it. This year it came upon me more or less suddenly and it did indeed enhance the experience.  

 

As we sang the joyful carols in church on Christmas Eve, I suddenly realised that I had not heard them for over a year. Not only that, but the message and sounds of the carols were not drowned out by the echoes and reverberations of mall noise still ringing in my ears.

 

It is good to change up our way of doing things on occasion, to give us some perspective on why we do the things we do.

Mexico Magic

 

Sunrise, best time of day.

 

Chandelier in the newly refurbished Flamingo buffet restaurant.

 

Gargoyles and pottery at the main entry. The water was not running this night.

 

Main lobby with Christmas tree.

 

Mariachi band on 'Mexico Night'.

 

Some of the entertainers trying to rev up the crowd on Mexico night.

 

There was a 70's theme night where the food was American, you know, pizza, pasta, hamburgers, French fries, and hot dogs. Being off red meat for many years now, I thought I would treat myself to a freshly grilled burger for old times sake. I stuck to the safe condiments, and even avoided the one that looked like ketchup but could have Mexican Red Hot Sauce. Mayo, lettuce and tomato were my choices and my first bite was taken with great relish until I realised that the mayo was not regular mayo, but a mayo-like substance that was laced with cilantro. There are few things that I dislike more than cilantro, so the burger was basically ruined and my one hamburger of the year was a bust.

 

I could not finish the burger so comforted myself with a desert sampler. No cilantro here, only sugar and calories.

 

When you walk the isle at a Mexican beach wedding, this is what it looks like.