8-10 August

 I find myself wondering if I'm becoming a party poop in my old age.  My home, across from a community park, near the sea and an estuary, is a delightful place to live--most of the time.  August is the exception.  It's not the climate, although we do get a few toasty days, but the annual Beachfest, which attracts hordes of visitors.  The nadir of the event is the Rock the Park weekend, when there's incessant VERY LOUD pop music.  In previous years, I've found it hard to escape and  tiresome.  

This year, I decided to spend the weekend at Cluxewe, my favourite campground, up-Island by Port McNeill.  It was a good choice.

I left early Friday morning, driving north by the Oceanside Route--there's a faster inland highway, but the slower route is pleasant and has good spots to stop, eat lunch, enjoy the view.  It's consistent with a decision to seek quiet.  

I knew Cluxewe would be busy, but it's set up in such a way that it has never really felt crowded.  I had a site with a good view of the Estuary, nice shade, but a bit lumpy.  It took a bit of maneuvering but I wound up with a level camper.  I bought the orange plastic levelling blocks some years ago--they've served me well.

A light rain began to fall as I set up, but it wasn't windy, and the awning worked fine.

Across from the campsite, I could watch the river.  Perhaps that sounds boring, but there were changes in weather, and the river responds to the tides.  

I'd hoped that the autumnal bird migration would have begun, but it's yet to be in evidence.  There was a big flock of short-billed gulls (formerly known as mew gulls) at the end of the Spit,

There were also very vocal flocks of Canada geese, and ducks, and one flock of shorebirds that I couldn't identify.  

...

I nearly (see below) always sleep exceptionally well up at Cluxewe, and did so the night of my arrival.  Despite the number of campers, the night was very peaceful.

I awoke early, cooked an omelet, and walked up to the end of the Spit that marks off the Estuary.

The tide was rising, showing the Cluxewe River's mouth, and islands of the Broughton Archipelago in the distance.

A smallish flock of harlequin ducks paddled about--there didn't seem to be any adult males, but these two look to be an adult female and a newly fledged male.

Adult females and juvenile males look quite similar, but the bird in the left of the photo has the characteristically untidy plumage that marks a juvenile.  

There were loons vocalising, alas, too distant to photograph, but always magical to hear:

https://macaulaylibrary.org/asset/639984283  (not my recording, but courtesy of Cornell Ornithological Lab's Macaulay Library)

The Spit is quite narrow--with the beach on one side, and the river maybe ten yards distant on the other.  At one point there was a fine growth of fireweed along its crest, more common on the north end of the Island than Parksville way.

Home--(back to my camper)--to sit and loaf and read until time to cook dinner.  A campfire ban, but my stove serves well.  Again a quiet night, then eased into sleep.

BUT:  Alarms in the night!  At about 2 am, a combination of whistle and horn--very loud, offshore.  Possibly from the lighthouse across the way on Cormorant Island? I didn't recognise it--was it a foghorn?  or--more worrisome, a Tsunami warning?  After the recent quake off Kamchatcka was that possible?  And, dammit, the internet service at the campground was very sporadic and I couldn't see anything like a warning.  It persisted and I couldn't hear any sound of folks heading for high ground.  Back to rather uneasy sleep, then wakened again to alarm notes at about 3:30.  Gave up on sleep, dressed, wandered about the campground.  No one stirring and, oh good! FOG!  So what I was hearing was a foghorn. Back to my bed and sleep.  

In my four years of visiting Cluxewe I've never seen fog, but there it was, persisting until mid-day, less dense toward the south.

Fog banks persisted to the northeast all day, generally at a distance over the mainland.

I took a few short wanders around the campground, loafed and read for the day.  The high tide in the Estuary was spectacular,

as was the evening light .

A quiet night, once more, and then--reluctantly, a departure from this beautiful spot until the end of September.