We decided to drive up island and have a coffee in the sleepy, quiet community of Cumberland—about an hour’s drive from home. We hadn’t been there for some time and wondered if much had changed. We arrive the same weekend as their ATMOSPHERE festival. http://atmospheregathering.com
A slight difference. . .
Talk about unique —just looking at the huge Italian circus tent in the middle of the festival grounds had my insides bubbling with excitement. Music ebbed and flowed and the air felt electric with energy. It was one of the wildest eclectic group of individuals I’ve seen—let’s just say native wowed hippy-chic who danced with spandex-lovers while medieval tangoed with Egyptian-aspy garbed as grunge-techno leapt about everywhere while healers did what they do best and cooks filled everyone’s bellies.
Expecting a quiet village and finding this exploding party was a tad mindboggling. A little bit of deep forest between us and the revelers felt like a good thing so we headed to the far edge of town and the shores of Comox Lake to have our our coffee and lunch.
After deciding to give more of the festival a pass we headed home via the old island highway which meanders along the shoreline so we could make a quick stop at Nile Creek. Basically, it’s a short dirt lane between the highway and the fishing beach where Nile Creek empties into the ocean and is well-known for the arrival of the pinks this time of year.
We found a parking spot halfway down the lane, left side. Man-wonder headed down to where the fishermen were lined up along the shore. I chose to stay behind sketching, not realizing the angle of the sun hitting our windshield was creating a blind spot to anyone looking at our truck. I have to assume that the fisherman, arriving back at his vehicle, parked two ahead of us, on the other side of the lane, didn’t realize it either. The man did a fast scan up and down the lane and then stripped off his chest waders, his shorts and everything else between him and his almighty best.
Talk about a fine specimen! And hoooo-boy, did he ever make my day. . .
And, I wonder, as he drove past, seeing me for the first time, did he catch the ear-to-ear grin on my face?
And, nooooo, I didn’t even think of picking up my pen until it was too late. . .