#portage bay

[corduroy-bears]

Portage, 2022

[newmosbiusdesigns]

dormitories by David Blackwell Via Flickr: Seattle, 2022

[jscolman]

The Christmas Ships, Portage Bay.

Seattle, Winter, 2023.

Peace to all.

[lil-noumi]

Portage Bay Cafe

[heylittlejess]

Portage Bay Cafe

[dailyoverview]

Seattle is the most populous city in the state of Washington, with a population of roughly 750,000. Situated on an isthmus between the Puget Sound and Lake Washington, the city is a major gateway for trade with Asia. This Overview shows several neighborhoods north of the city center, including Eastlake, Portage Bay, Montlake and others.

47.609722°, -122.333056°

Source imagery: Nearmap

[arokel]

Forever betrayed that George Clooney didn't spend his massive budget on filming in Washington state so here's some old Seattle photos from the 30s/very early 40s to make me feel better (individual photos + explanations under the cut!)

Looking down from Capitol Hill over Lake Union towards Queen Anne

Overlooking Portage Bay and the UW campus

Seattle's Hoovertown in Elliot Bay, with the Kalakala ferry in the distance

The Kalakala up close and in person! There she is!! (Pier 2 near Fisherman's Wharf, facing downtown)

Aerial view of the UW campus, including Drumheller Fountain

Looking over Drumheller Fountain towards Husky Stadium

Tugboat passing under the University Bridge, headed for the Aurora Bridge along Lake Union

UW students rowing along the Montlake Cut, with the Montlake Bridge in the background

Students rowing among sailboats on Lake Union

[wolveswolves]

Voyageurs Wolf Project:

Last spring, we figured we would put a camera on this short canoe portage between two remote lakes where the Nashata and Cranberry Bay Pack territories overlap. We weren’t sure how it would work out but figured it was worth a try. 

Turns out, this is a pretty great spot. We got both the Cranberry Bay and Nashata Packs on camera routinely—and both packs scent-marked this spot a lot, likely to send a message to their neighbors that this was their turf. 

Part of the reason we have not put cameras here in the past is because it is very challenging to access during the summer months and effectively requires a full day to get in and out of. As a result, we cannot easily visit and check on the camera multiple times throughout the summer. 

Come winter, this portage becomes a snowmobile trail which does make it much easier to check and maintain a camera in this area. Anyway, given how good of a spot this was, we will be keeping a camera here for some time we think!

[mrbenvs3000w24]

My Relationship with Nature: A Lifelong Journey of Mentorship and Discovery in North Bay

Growing up in the heart of Northern Ontario, amidst the serene beauty of North Bay, I've had the privilege of developing a profound connection with nature that has shaped my worldview and defined my sense of place. My journey into the arms of Mother Nature has been a lifelong odyssey, and in this blog post, I'll explore how this relationship has evolved over the years, with a special nod to the person who offered me a lasting "sense of place" – my father.

Nestled between the picturesque landscapes of Lake Nipissing and Trout Lake, North Bay has been more than just a geographical location for me. It's a sanctuary, a haven, and a teacher. The two lakes, each with its own unique charm, have been the backdrop to countless memories and the catalyst for my passion for the great outdoors.

My earliest encounters with nature were guided by the steady hand of my father. He was my mentor, introducing me to the wonders of the natural world and instilling in me a deep respect for the intrinsic value of spending time amidst its beauty. From the tender age of a curious child, I embarked on adventures with him, exploring the wooded trails surrounding our home and casting my gaze upon the vastness of Lake Nipissing.

Hiking became our shared passion, an activity that not only strengthened our bond but also allowed me to appreciate the intricate details of the local flora and fauna. The trails became our silent storytellers, narrating tales of resilience, adaptation, and the cyclical beauty of life in Northern Ontario.

As I grew older, our adventures took on new dimensions. Kayaking and canoeing became staples of our summer adventures, with several Northern Ontario Lakes serving as our aquatic playgrounds. The rhythmic paddle strokes mirrored the harmony of nature, and the shimmering waters beneath us became a canvas upon which we painted memories that would last a lifetime.

Portaging added an element of challenge and camaraderie to our outdoor pursuits. Carrying a canoe between lakes tested our physical strength but also reinforced the idea that every obstacle in nature could be overcome with determination and teamwork. In this sense, my relationship with nature became an immersive journey of self-discovery, resilience, and a profound understanding of the interconnectedness between humans and the natural world.

Camping during the May long weekends has evolved into a cherished tradition for our family—a time to disconnect from the hustle of everyday life and fully embrace the calming wilderness. The crackling campfire, the symphony of night sounds, and the crisp scent of pine needles all contribute to the enchantment of our outdoor retreats.

This annual tradition, etched into the fabric of my life since birth, marks a celebration of the warmer days as we pitch our tents, stoke the campfire, and revel in the timeless joy of camping beneath the starlit canopy. These weekends symbolize the changing seasons and serve as a poignant reminder that nature, like life, unfolds in a continuous cycle of renewal and growth.

In retrospect, my relationship with nature has not only been nurtured by the enchanting landscapes of North Bay but also shaped by the values and lessons imparted by my father. Through his guidance, I've come to understand that nature is not merely a place we visit; it's a living, breathing entity that deserves our respect and protection.

As I continue to explore the wonders of North Bay and beyond, I carry with me the imprints of these formative experiences, particularly those shared with my father. His presence in every hiking trail, every paddle across the lakes, and every crackle of the campfire has been a constant reminder of the profound impact a parent can have on shaping a deep connection with the natural world.

North Bay, with its endless trails, lakes, and timeless beauty, will forever be the canvas on which my journey with nature unfolds, painted with the brushstrokes of memories created alongside my father. It is here, amidst the serene beauty of Northern Ontario, that our shared adventures have defined not only my hobbies but also instilled in me a deep sense of responsibility towards the environment. In the silent whispers of the trees and the gentle lapping of the lakeshores, his teachings echo, forming the foundation of my enduring "sense of place."

Attached above is a photo of me, immersed in the serene beauty of Northern Ontario, engaged in the rhythmic pursuit of kayaking. Paddle in hand, I navigate the tranquil waters, each stroke propelling me forward on a journey of connection with nature. This snapshot encapsulates more than a mere moment; it captures the essence of my deep affinity for the outdoors. In the gentle sway of the kayak and the picturesque surroundings, the photo becomes a visual ode to the timeless joy of exploring the pristine lakes that have been an integral part of my life's journey.

[transit-fag]

Based off the high performance of the midwest in the proposed lines poll, which Midwestern proposed route is best for the people

[radiomogai]

[ID: two flags, each rectangular with 4 equally-sized horizontal stripes with a thick one in the middle. from top to bottom, the stripes of the left flag go almost-black green, portage, off-white, portage, and almost-black green. from top to bottom, the stripes of the right flag go portage, governor bay blue, off-white, governor bay blue, and portage. end ID]

Sleepwatchic and Visirestic

[PT: Sleepwatchic and Visirestic. end PT]

left is sleepwatchic, right is visirestic

Sleepwatchic: a juvelic orientation for soporine-loving-occunous, exclusively or not

Visirestic: a juvelic orientation for occunous-loving-soporine, exclusively or not

self-indulgent, coined for myself {Cecil} and Jon lol

taglist: @revenant-coining @aetherive @en8y @queermogaigremlin @neopronouns @hoardicboy @liom-archive @juvelic-archive @kiruliom @mogai-sunflowers @local-yurei

[aquariclione]

[ID: 2 horizontal flags with 6 stripes. colors from top to bottom for the left flag are gulf blue, governor bay blue, portage blue, onahau blue, viking blue, jelly bean blue. the colors from top to bottom for the right flag are midnight blue, jelly bean blue, shakespeare blue, french pass, havelock blue, persian blue. end ID]

aquaric lesboy and veldigirl flags

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

"RUSHING THE C. N. R. LINE FROM PEMBROKE," Ottawa Citizen. October 15, 1913. Page 1. --- Contractor Expects Steel to be Laid to Portage Du Fort This Fall. ---- J. P. Mullarkey, contractor for the construction of the section of the Canadian Northern transcontinental railway between Ottawa and Pembroke, began to lay steel easterly from Pembroke two days ago. Before the severely cold weather comes, he says, he will have the steel laid as far as Portage du Fort, a distance of 27 miles.

Before the middle of next month the rails will be laid from Ottawa as far as Chats Falls. Then work on the construction of the two bridges over the Ottawa river, one at Portage du Fort and the other at Chats Falls, will be rushed so that the bridges will be completed early next spring.

The entire section of the road in question has been graded and it is planned to have it ready for operation in the fall of next year. The contractors on the sections from Pembroke to North Bay and from North Bay to the C. N. R. line now in operation from Fort William westward are making good headway with their work. Early in 1915, perhaps before then, the whole line from east to west will be ready for traffic.

The length of the C. N. R. route to Pembroke from Ottawa is 86 miles, 36 shorter than the C. P. R. and 22 shorter than the Grand Trunk.

[oonajaeadira]

For the specific asks - 13, 17, 21 and 24 🥰

<3 <3 <3. Ah. I see you're going for some of the darker ones, Nonnie. .

first thing you’re doing in the purge?

I haven't watched the movies so I'm not sure if there's any amnesty rules, but if Canada was benevolent, I'd just drive up to Thunder Bay for a getaway. Or, of course, I'd just make sure I was abroad on vacation at that time.

If that wasn't an option? Most likely get a permit for Boundary Waters, take the SO, and portage into a wild area. Maybe get out to Gunflint or Saganaga Lake and find a place to camp on the Canadian side.

If you weren't allowed to leave your city? Then I'd go break into and hide in the one place nobody's going to think to loot: The library.

.

an anxious compulsion you do everyday?

I'm a fidgeter. Never thought I was one until a friend of mine showed me all of her fidget toys she keeps on her desk because otherwise she'd start playing with her earrings or scratching her scalp or picking at her nails...all of which I do. I tend to wear rings and earrings every day and I am constantly fiddling with them. If I'm wearing a necklace? Look out. I have a koosh ball on my desk that I rub and toss between my hands while I work (bonus ASMR!). And I carry two crystals in a pouch in my purse--one is a prophecy stone (spikey and textured) and one is a carnelian worry stone (smooth and glossy) both of which I only take out in emergencies because once I start touching those effers I'm never gonna stop....

.

a number that weirds you out?

Someone recently pointed out to me that numbers are abstract concepts. Show me 1. Show me 2. You can't. You can show me the written numerals. You can show me two apples. But you cannot show me an actual number unless it is represented by a written symbol or code.

Numbers don't actually exist. Numbers are ghosts that everyone believes in. What is zero even? Some ancient cultures didn't even have a concept of zero. Some cultures believed that numbers were grouped in 13s the way we do 10s and 5s. Animals don't know numbers. A chicken with 9 chicks only knows that there are many. At most, she knows there are 3 groups of 3 because that's what her brain can comprehend and what is counting? What? Why? My head hurts.

And they just keep going? There's no end? Even though they don't really exist? Infinite beyond human comprehension? That's some Lovcraftian horror for you right there.

And in that way, all numbers kinda freak me out. If I think about it too hard.

Also, I'm really bad at math and I think this might be why.

.

which do you find yourself using, american or british english?

I am American and do not use American English proudly, but rather out of habit.

.

weirdly specific and unrelated asks

[scots-gallivanter]

TWENTY-FIVE

The sea was good night and morning,

the winds were friends, the calm was kindly –

the snow seeks the burn, the brown fronds scatter;

my dancing days for fishing are over.

GEORGE CAMPBELL HAY, Wind on Loch Fyne (1948)

THERE IS A weird phenomenon not unknown to me that scientists call hypnopompia. It’s that occasionally unpleasant period between sleep and wakefulness. I experience it this morning in Tarbert after a night spent crashing like a hobbit on a wafer-thin layer of polyester. I get it when, after an uncomfortable, spasmodic, arthritis-inducing snorefest, I crouch in the tent to don my boots and hurtle forward into a clump of bracken.

I stretch my muscles and rub the tick bite on my backside this morning. I feel like a small furry animal emerging from hibernation. I realise that the zip of the sleeping back has left its indentation on my face. Camping isn’t for me, I conclude but, after walking for a few yards, I demur. I gaze from on high upon the perfectly situated harbour town of Tarbert, and the dazzling East Loch Tarbert that beautifies it.

In 1843 Cockburn asked: 'How it is that I have never heard of that curious little bay? – there it lay, calm and silvery – a curve of about twenty or thirty small houses drawn round the upper end, all comfortable- looking – the ruins of an old castle standing on a rocky knoll at the left side of the entrance – a striking and beautiful spot like a scene from a theatre.'

And Guernsey-born geologist John Macculloch wrote of Loch Tarbert: 'The water was like a mirror, and as the sun reached the dewy birch woods, the air was perfumed by their fragrance, while the warbling of ten thousand thrushes on all sides, with the tinkling sound of the little waves that curled on the shore, and the gentle whispering of the morning air among the trees, rendered it a perfect scene of enchantment.'

I am enchanted too. I stand on the rocky knoll which Cockburn noted. There are none of Macculloch’s thrushes, but a cuckoo and meadow pipits vie for musical attention. A shag poses on a rock out on the fringes of this inlet of Loch Fyne, unperturbed by anchored yachts. A female sparrowhawk glides overhead. The lochside remains wonderfully wooded. The vista has an antihistamine effect; to blazes with my bites. Loch Fyne glitters over there and we can see the distant outline of lofty Beinn Mhor on the Cowal peninsula. The coffee is potable. All is right again in the world.

West Loch Tarbert is less than a mile away from its eastern brother. It is the land in between that prevents Kintyre from being an island. There is an oft-repeated story that King Magnus of Norway had his longboat dragged across this isthmus to bag the peninsula. According to the Icelandic historian Snorri Sturluson the king made an arrangement with Malcolm III of Scotland that he could take possession of land on the west coast around which a ship could sail. By taking command of his ship’s tiller and ‘sailing’ across the isthmus, he was able to claim the entire peninsula. Norway nobbled Kintyre for 12 years. That dragging of boats would be similar to the portages of Canada and the ‘diolkoi’ of Greece. There was a paved trackway on the Isthmus of Corinth, across which vessels were lugged. The shortcut allowed the Corinthians to avoid the long and dangerous circumnavigation of the Peloponnese peninsula. To avoid the perilous Mull of Kintyre, sailors likewise used the isthmus of Tarbert (Gaelic tairbeart means ‘carrying across’).

We had camped last night on the edge of a community woodland next to Tarbert Castle, on one wall of which conservationists have had to use modern brickwork and concrete to stop it falling down. The Annals of Ulster place a fortification on Tarbert hill in the eighth century. The first stone castle went up in the 13th century, Edward 1 seized it, and Robert the Bruce took it back. Bruce’s Exchequer Rolls dealing with the work at the castle is one of the oldest historical documents in Scotland. James IV built a tower house at the castle, which has been painstakingly restored by volunteers, and the castle is now owned and operated by the Tarbert and Skipness Community Trust.

Tarbert grew up as a fishing village, and Harbour Street used to be lined with ‘farlans’, long wooden troughs in which peripatetic women gutted, cleaned and cured the catches as they landed. They would travel around the ports for work, and there was the inevitable revelling. The local sheriff had told Cockburn it was ‘a profligate place’ . As forthright as he always was, Cockburn declared: 'Nonsense! I don’t believe it. The brawls, which are his only facts, must proceed from the stranger fishers who nestle in it. I won’t believe anything bad of the natives of that little Virgilian port.

“This Sheriff a worthy, ugly, sensible, cart-horse of a man, hideously ugly, and with a coarse, high-keyed, idiotical voice, at which the very stots stare. Sir Walter Scott once amazed us all by taking this strange, good, and most illiterate creature to Paris with him, the most incomprehensible fact in the history of either man.'

Tarbert is associated with father and son Hay, both of whom left their literary mark. John MacDougall Hay was born in Tarbert in 1881, the son of a steamship agent, and he became a minister. His dark, tragic, pessimistic powerful novel, Gillespie, was set in Tarbert and was praised by Thomas Hardy and likened to the classic House with the Green Shutters. Hay died, a mere 38. His son, George Campbell Hay, became one of Scotland’s most talented, but unsung, poets. His playground was the shore of Loch Fyne, where he hung around fishermen, and he wandered the idyllic woods and hills around Tarbert. He wrote knowledgeably about the natural world, and understood the world of nets and spindrift. He wrote in English, Gaelic and Scots, and translated from Welsh, Irish, French, Greek, Italian, Norwegian and Arabic.

In October 1940 Hay hid in the hills to avoid conscription. He was arrested in Arrochar the following May and jailed until he reported for duty in the Royal Army Ordnance Corps at Catterick, where he met the poet Sorley MacLean, who later recalled that they ‘had two splendid afternoons and evenings when we talked Gaelic poetry the whole time’. Sadly, Hay Junior was a complex man dogged by mental illness and alcoholism. He died in squalor in Edinburgh in 1984.

From Tarbert we took the bus down the western flank of Kintyre. The ferry to Islay ran from Kennacraig, five miles away, but we decided to proceed to the village of Tayinloan, whose boat connects with the island of Gigha. We waited in Big Jessie’s cafe, next to the terminal where we were entertained by the waitress, who makes a mean meringue and keeps axalotls as pets. Seemingly, they’re like salamanders.

[dailyoverview]

Seattle is the most populous city in the U.S. state of Washington, with a population of roughly 750,000. Situated on an isthmus between the Puget Sound and Lake Washington, the city is a major gateway for trade with Asia. This Overview shows several neighborhoods north of the city center, including Eastlake, Portage Bay, Montlake and others.

47.609722°, -122.333056°

Source imagery: Nearmap