Spotting the Eagles in Brackendale

It was sunny and cold and the mountain air felt good. It was the day after.







It was the day after New Year's Eve, and we were feeling the effects of a night with the Whiskeydicks.








We had stayed at the Howe Sound Inn and took in their New Year's Party featuring an energetic Celtic-punk-party band that kept the crowd on their feet and dancing. Yes, dancing. Even Jeem.




Fortunately no pictures remain of the night, and it was all in good fun. Perhaps I consumed a wee bit too much of the Howe Sound Imperial Stout that goes by the name: Pothole Filler. It's a bracing ale to be sure; a full litre in every bottle and a nifty nine percent alcohol content. That and the wine with dinner and hopping around like a banshee to an out-of-control fiddle player contributed to the morning after.



Throughout the town and through the night, and even from my now good friends in the Whiskeydicks, we kept hearing that the Eagles have arrived in Brackendale. The Eagles. Well. Of course we had to see them.

No. Apparently not those Eagles. Their fighting and scrapping wouldn't do in peaceful Brackendale anyway.






So New Year's Day morning, the morning after remember, we went to Brackendale. To see the Eagles, whatever form they might take.

We walked and waited. Watching. Waiting. With hundreds of others. In the cold and snow. Looking for the eagles.

Hundreds of eagles, possibly a thousand, winter here every December and January. However.






Are those the eagles?

Apparently the eagles were having a morning after too.

Photos, except for the band

 publicity photo, 

by Jim Murray. Copyright 2015.

Je suis Ahmed

Sometimes it takes time for things to settle. It's sometimes difficult to handle the twenty-four hour news cycle and its need, our need, to fill its space and time, to tell its story. Who decides the story and how it is framed? What happens when messy bits are left out, or inconvenient and confusing pieces are set off to one side?




Ahmed Merabat was the first of the twelve innocent people killed in Wednesday's attack on Charlie Hebdo in Paris.








Ahmed Merabat was a 42 year old policeman doing his job in the 11e arrondissement, when he was shot, point-blank by one of the three assassins, only minutes before they stormed the offices of Charlie Hebdo. Ahmed Merabat was also a Muslim and a proud citizen of the French Republic, like the vast majority of the country's six million Muslims.

One twitter writer said it best:

Je suis Charlie? Yes, of course! And also, most emphatically: Je suis Ahmed.

We're all in this together. Aren't we?

Copyright 2105 by Jim Murray

Sea to Sky Gondola ~ Squamish

At this time of year, it's best to prepare for winter and the cold of ice and snow, especially when you're heading to the summit of the Sea to Sky Gondola.















Located between Vancouver and Whistler, just outside the wonderful town of Squamish, where Sherry and I celebrated New Year's Eve, but that's another story, the ride takes about 15 minutes and covers almost 2km. The true vertical rise is 850 metres.







At the summit we are 885 m above sea level, the sun is bright and the temp is just below freezing and dropping.

There is a suspension bridge from the summit Lodge, which houses cafe, bar and gift shop, leading to viewing platforms and a number of hikes. At times the path is shaded, cold and almost dark with the heavy, low slung branches of the trees. At other times a person will walk out into the blinding brilliance of the sun.

The views are incredible from every direction. The sky is bright, the air crisp and clean, and the shadows long and cold.

Do we have to leave? Well, apparently yes. We have a dinner and dancing engagement with the Whiskeydicks at the Howe Sound Inn & Brewery. And anyway, in winter the last ride down is at 6:00 pm and by that time it is truly cold and dark.

Photos by Jim Murray. Copyright 2015.