Juan de Fuca Strait

We mentioned before we live right at the shores of Juan de Fuca Strait in James Bay village, Victoria. On a clear day like today, we see the snowcapped Olympic mountain range of Washington State. Our view is unobstructed so we witness endless activity both on sea and land. In spring the Camas fields (which the First Nations people cultivated for its bulb) create a carpet of blue-violet. Other than the November-March stretch when gales and storms prevail, with waves which pound right over Dallas Road, there is always a breeze.

Enthusiastic kite-flyers launch their colourful kites high in the sky, much to the dismay and annoyance of the seagulls. Also the remote-controlled glider planes, that really upsets them! The seagulls vigilantly dive-bomb those intruders of their domain.
There are benches all along the seawalk, mostly occupied by the elderly who chat about this, that and the other, reminiscing or simply observing the endless maritime activity. Freighters, floatplanes, sailboats, the “Coho” ferry to Port Angeles, Alaska cruise ships, helicopters, an odd canoe and many kayaks. Freighters are mostly container ships inbound or outbound to the Far East. And throughout the day, pilot boats travel to and fro to pick up or drop off the pilots.
The seawalk is used by joggers, young mothers with prams, elderly with their pushcarts, hundreds of walkers and dog walkers. Canines, in sizes from a small "ball of fur on four legs", to St. Bernard.

Last year the Blue Herons who had a colony nearby were chased away by a “Rambo” bald eagle. However lately we’ve seen quite a few right outside our doorstep. We love to observe their endless patience, standing like statues on a rock or in the water, waiting for their meal to swim by. A perfect study for the art of patience and concentration. Once in awhile we encounter quiet, friendly natives (or First Nations as we call them here in Canada), gazing over the waters to somewhere far away. After all, this was once the home of their ancestors. And the site where they would gather the Camas bulbs. But that’s another story .... Signing off, Henri