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Victoria, British Columbia
Faraway from the memories of the people who care if I live or die
My very own Lonely Planet shot. This is a carefully cropped picture of a reconstructed longhouse located just outside of the Royal British Columbia Museum, or more accurately a carefully cropped picture of one of its end walls.
Danger. Steep Drop. Sudden Weather Changes. Injury May Occur. Use at your own risk. What's not to like about that?
As protected as the Inner Harbo(u)r may be, the open waters of the Strait of Juan de Fuca feel a little closer to what the Pacific Ocean by definition deserves. The waves are rougher, the giant, menacing pieces of driftwood are hard to miss, orcas and dolphins traverse the waters just as you imagine they always have. From the southern shoreline of Victoria a half mile long ribbon of concrete with no guard rails to protect you whatsoever leaves the safety of the shore and ventures out right into the wind, out right into the water, out right into the Strait itself.
The reason that I wanted to go to Victoria above all others was to go on a whale watching trip, or more specifically, a killer whale watching trip. There is no city in the world that is better situated near resident orca pods and a number of companies offer excursions right from the Inner Harbo(u)r that lead all the way to United States waters, or to wherever the whales are hanging out at the time. There is more than one company offering tours, something which is painfully obvious as you look at the five or six other boats (including the local police boats) hovering near (but not too near) the latest orca sighting. Of the competing companies I chose one called WildCat for a series of overthought reasons that must have made sense at the time. The boat was most certainly fast and I guess could be called wild in terms of the generally rough ride and occasional splashing, but was still comfortable enough and more important it gave everyone the chance to dress up in borrowed red and black rain coats, rain pants, rain gloves and snappy little red "Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou” hats.
There were most definitely whales to be seen. A pod of over 40 orcas lovingly (actually I guess clinically is a better word) called J-Pod was easy enough to find although certainly hard to keep track of. With over 40 whales surfacing (and occasionally but not consistently breaching) on all sides of the boat at just about any time it was great to see but not that easy to photograph. Still I guess if you take enough pictures sooner or later you'll get a picture that actually kind of looks like an orca and not just a dark, lumpy, slightly out of focus piece of driftwood.
Despite the fact that it was a great life experience, I had wished that one of the whale watching companies had offered a longer experience following the whales. When compared to other, generally amazing upcoming wildlife sightings in Alaska at Denali, Kenai Fjords and most unforgettably at Katmai, these sightings lacked a sense of intimacy that somewhere like Alaska offers effortlessly at every turn. You'll see. Eventually.
Life on the killer whale watching boat was cold over the open water but not too bad once they turned off the engines so as not to bother either J Pod or L Pod too much. Our naturalist and driver (easily distinguishable by the fact they were not forced to dress like the passenger) claimed without backup that J Pod has over 40 whales, is led by a 150 year old plus female and is the source for most of the killer whales in captivity- the pod is easier to find than any other and therefore easier to poach. Another pod (L Pod) was smaller with only eight whales and was a bit more transient, they spend a fair amount of time in the open Pacific which apparently might be fun but also not all that conducive to a healthy pod.
Meanwhile there is nothing particularly fascinating about this picture (there were others I liked better) although I did like how it both captured the idle waiting as the pods dove deep and caught a glimpse of Washington State's San Juan Islands, one of those places I've always been meaning to visit yet can now legitimately say that I've seen.
Craigdarrach Castle is not really a castle but still an interesting enough private house in an interesting enough part of the city I would otherwise have never seen. Despite a threatening sky (and a promise of rain which was never to come to pass) I decided to walk from the Inner Harbo(u)r down Fort Street and all the way to the castle, advertised as a can't miss five star attraction although in reality it is probably a see-it-if-you-get-a-chance two and a half star attraction at best. From the castle I headed south through even more residential neighbo(u)rhoods down Moss Street and eventually along the coast past the driftwood, the cliffs, the Terry Fox statue and the Ogden Point Breakwater (see below) and all the way back home.
At the very, very end of the Ogden Point Breakwater a small lighthouse stands guard over the harbor and does its best not to laugh at idiots like me who think they can still get a good picture of it as they continually creep close and closer to all those dangers and steep drops they were warned about a good half mile ago.
