Friday, September 4, 2015

Photo Friday: Sunup to Sundown

"DAAAAD..." my youngest whines to me, frustrated. "You're always taking pictures."

We were hiking on a part of the Bruce Trail, through the national park, Georgian Bay close enough to feel the cool, moist air. I had stopped, brought my camera to my face, composed, and pressed the shutter release.

"Yes," I said, "it's what I do."

"But we're supposed to be on vacation." The words came out like a song. One of those K-pop tunes that she plays from her smart device to set my teeth on edge.

"This is me, on vacation." Said as a matter of fact.

"You must always be on vacation," the words came out like her often-voiced hmph.

My camera has rarely left my person over the past week. It lay on the shelf in the bedroom, as I slumbered mere feet away. I didn't take it in the bathroom when I took my "quiet time" or showered. When I swam in Look About Bay, off Lake Huron, or paddled one of the small, orange kayaks, my camera was safe and dry, on shore. And when I rode my bike along the shore of Lake Huron, I left the camera at the cottage.

When I drove north and south, along the mostly straight Highway 6, between Sauble Beach and Tobermory, my camera was securely stowed in the trunk (it sat in the passenger seat, next to me, on the drive from Ottawa to Lion's Head).

Apart from those times, yes, my camera was slung over my shoulder. It was with me when I visited the various breweries along my journeys. It was with me as I waded in the cool, shallow water of Flowerpot Island. It was with me as I walked the lonely streets of Wiarton. I felt the weight of it and my camera slingbag as I negotiated the pitted, treacherous rocks of the Grotto near Cyprus Lake.

It's at arms length as I wrote this post.

My camera was on me or near me, most days, from sunup to sunset. It's what I do.



But I still managed to live in the moment, to look at the wonders of the Bruce Peninsula, to share the experiences with my family.

I never forget my vacations with my family: I have the pictures to prove that.

Happy Friday!

No comments:

Post a Comment

Under The 416

There's nothing like being out at night, on a deserted road, out of sight, under an overpass, alone, vulnerable, that makes the tiny hai...