Vancouver to Field British Columbia July 713, 2013
—1
What is the difference between a garden, a park and a landscape?
Wait, don't answer that now. Suffice to recognize that language has played a trick on us, has gone on holiday, and left us with an argumentative conundrum of definitions. To define those three areas of experience is like defining what makes a vegetable. Vegetables can be roots, stalks, leaves or fruits. It's impossible to define except with a circular reasoning: it's a vegetable because it's a vegetable. It's a garden because I say it is. And so it is with this trip, July 7Â13, 2013, a complete week: seven days, seven full days. Now that I sit down and try to string the notes together into a narrative I struggle to find the one string that will draw it all together into one neat package. There is a package there. Somewhere. A hazy kernel of a search that led to other things, as all searches do. In the beginning we started with a few lists of stops: The original 1886 (CPR) list, the 1932 list for both CPR and CN, and the 2013 list from VIA rail. Florence had written to the CPR archives for a map of the first train stations and stops from 1886 passenger trains from Montreal to Port Moody. The francophone archivist sent a copy of a map and list of stations and stops. It had to be magnified like crazy as the printing was damaged and faded. It was hard to read. —2
At the Vancouver Library Florence also found a 1932 map of CPR and CN rail roads of BC and Alberta. What made this one difficult was the stations for both lines were written close together. Both lines run next to each other for most of the Fraser River before they separated at Kamloops. Florence compiled a table of stops and compared it to the 2013 "The Canadian" VIA rail train schedule. In retrospect we think some of those stops made it to the wrong column on the table. A few CPR stops ended up on the CN schedule and the other way around too. I tried to match the names on the map with places through Google maps. Some were successful, and other not so much. I printed out detailed views in faded grey. One discovery was that there is often a "Station Road" or "Railway Road" that leads to the rail line. Sometimes there are place names in Google Maps where there is nothing. Perhaps they are there as organizational districts. It wasn't clear and time wasn't on our side. In any case, like Cervantes searching for an trigger to get Don Quixote on his way, we became bound up in the romance of the rail, a glow of a golden age where the chemin de fer stitched Canada together. Our madness, the trope, the conceit was to see as many of these stops as possible. —3
Sunday, July 7 8:20 am depart from my place. Our first stop was St. Elmo Road. I had thought this might be the Ruby Creek stop from 1886. But the line is CN, not CP, which is on the other side of the Fraser. This was the first of several confusions between the two lines which crissÂcross the several rivers they follow. We discovered an old church. Is this a reserve? There were no traces of any stop or station. We also saw a bright yellow bird. I wrote this down. Children from next door rode their bicycles up and down the street. The sign on the post by the track said this was CN mile 47.75 Yale sub. —4
At Hope we went to the Visitor Information centre, where we met a very knowledgeable docent who gave lots of information: where the Hope train station was, how to find the Cisco (or Syska) bridges, plus news that the Boston Bar station was moved and boarded up and the North Bend station long gone.
—5
We walked up to the Hope station, moved from its original location and now a community centre. The back went straight up two floors, but had doors up top. Obviously there was originally a platform level with those doors at one point. Our thoughts are it was originally on the other side of the tracks, which is on a slope. The back of the building would be up the slope, so that the track platform would be level with the second floor of the building. Get the picture? —6
We went down to the tracks and took a few pictures. Looking into the distance, away from the Fraser River we saw a bridge in the distance. We went back to the car, found the bridge, which was basically in the back of some old guy's yard. The bridge crosses the Coquihalla Creek.
—7
—8
The old guy came out of his house and chatted a bit about how often the train came, how high the river rose, and about his daughter and grandson helping with the garden. A train came as we took photos. In Hope we also took a few pictures of a garage we originally thought was abandoned, but later realized was just closed. We crossed the Fraser and tried to find Haig.
—9
Our first attempt said "No access to CP rail". Was it a private road? There was a cairn at the corner without any plaque. Back to the highway. The next exit was marked CP Haig. There was nothing that resembled a stop, but there was a depot of pipes, conduit, old ties and other junk.
— 10
— 11
On to Trafalgar, the next on the list. Our first attempt was Doolan Road, which ended in a locked gate. The next attempt may have been more successful. There was a pile of rails. Once again, there was nothing to suggest this had been a stop. We also had exposure issues. It's dark by the rails, but the sky is light – too light to be properly exposed. Aargh. — 12
Over the next few days we discovered the early morning light isn't good: the contrast is too much with the darker ground, there's a mist or haze over everything. After 10:30 am it's better. Choate: I think this location came from Google maps  there's a small (6 or so) community of houses across the tracks. I had seen an old photo of the Choate station doing my research. The photo shows a — 13
small shack. We drove though the community and then went back to the tracks. There was nothing there that resembled anything. A metal shed and two crossing posts ornamented a track crossing filled with cement. That, at least, was a contrast with the wood used at Trafalgar.
— 14
The subject of landscape was always backofmind. The quixotic nature of the trip seemed to have several fuzzy objectives: One: stop wherever we felt like Two: try to find the original stops Three: document what's there now It's this last one that quickly created questions. We knew that very few stations still existed. My very little reading suggested that many stops had been just that: stops. How many pictures of railways in the middle of nowhere can you take? The challenge is to look for differences: concrete road crossing instead of timber. Flowers in the foreground? How about details of detritus or pieces of the rail? They could be anywhere but they happen to be here, in this place How do we show 'here'? And what if we can't find 'here'?
— 15
Squeah was just a question mark on the map. It was identified by an Internet search, but without any roads or other marks to let us know when we were there it seems pretty hopeless. In the vicinity we found a bridge, did a UÂTurn, parked and clambered down to what was labelled Emory Creek. There were two bridges: one for the highway (take care crossing!) and one for the CP rail line. Below, it was picturesque. The water was a gorgeous green. I dipped my feet in. — 16
I've read the word 'paradise' comes from the Persian for 'walled garden'. Originally that would have referred to the biblical paradise, the garden of Eden, through the use of a metaphor. And now we've extended it to places like Emory Creek: beautiful, cool in the summer heat, an invitation for laziness and the contemplation of nature's beauty, a place removed from our regular world. A metaphor extended from another metaphor. Here, at Emory Creek, we were walled in by the steep banks leading up to the highway, and sheltered from the heavens by the bridges; bridges that did not bridge two worlds but provided a continuum of one world strung out in three lines across an undulating landscape. Three lines? Yes. On this trip we concentrated on our goal of finding interesting rail shots on the two lines, but to get there we took the invisible path of the Trans Canada Highway. This is the third line, and really it was this line that drew out the trip, connected the stops, and tied together the trip into something cohesive.
— 17
We had our lunch at Yale, in the backyard of the museum – just us. The shade was welcome in the heat. The tracks run parallel to Douglas Street, and my first thought was the station would have been along this street, but we were told by the museum staff the station had been at the end, by the pile of gravel, at the end of the Road.
— 18
And indeed we found a few artefacts: an old cement platform that had a few embedded services (plumbing), a few rails planted into the ground painted a bright yellow, and a water station too – or a black box labelled 'water' with a crank.
— 19
— 20
We passed Spuzzum because I misÂremembered what was there. Spuzzum is a First Nation, and does have a sign. We stopped at the new Alexandra Bridge (1962?). The bridge has salmon sculptures at the ends. The tracks (CP) passed under the bridge at this point.
— 21
— 22
We stopped a bit further on and walked down to the old Alexandra Bridge. The deck is a grate, making for a vertiginous experience. We also saw where Gaye and Jim marked where they had stopped a few years before. It's in the centre of the span on the South side.
— 23
— 24
— 25
— 26
We missed the next few stops on the list: Stout, Chapmans and China Bar. At this point we started to realize that it was extraordinarily difficult to figure out where these stoppings may have been. There just aren't any communities or roads. We also started to get confused over which community or stop was on what side of the river. And why did CN and CP have to start with the same letter? That just makes things harder. En tout cas, we ended up in Boston Bar. This, at least, was a town. While Florence took a picture of an old place across the highway, Don asked at the gas station where the Alpine camp ground was. The camp ground was in the accommodations guide mailed to Florence a few days earlier. The Korean clerk said it was a few kilometres up the road. It was a RV camp ground, but one where it looked like most of the RVs were parked without owners. Perhaps they bought for the month or summer. We were assured that it never rained in Boston Bar, and if it does it's just a sprinkle. It started to rain as we finished putting the flies on the tents. Within minutes the rain was heavy enough we had to cook under the shelter by the bathrooms. The managers lent a filthy vinyl table. C'est the debut de l'histoire des rags.
— 27
We had to move the table several times as the rain turned to a shower, then a deluge. Then it started to hail. The water was so thick we couldn't see the campsite. The road started to wash out. The ceilings in the shelter started to leak, not just where we were but in the bathrooms too. In a panic I asked Florence if I could move my stuff from the tent to the car. Fortunately I had my umbrella there. What an — 28
adventure! Fortunately it wasn't cold. Just wet. There was some concern over where we would sleep: Florence thought the bathrooms were a possibility. However there were leaks in the men's. The storm lasted a long time, over an hour. Florence went to see the managers to put the ice packs in their freezer, and to needle them about it never raining. They were busy shovelling water from their patio with a snow shovel and broom. The rain stopped and the sky seemed to clear up a bit. We courageously went back to Boston Bar to take pictures of the Boston Bar train station as the sun was setting. The station was indeed boarded up and moved back from the tracks. The sky had halfcleared leaving a pinkhued dusk. A train pulled up (CN tracks) and Florence made a connection with an engineer named Terry from Kamloops. He normally did the Kamloops/Boston Bar run. Apparently CN and CP share the rails, so that (in this section anyway) Westward traffic uses CN tracks, and Eastwardbound uses CP tracks. Florence started recording locomotives. We stayed until it was well past dark, then went back for a good night's sleep in a damp tent.
— 29
Monday, July 8, 2013 Up at 6 am. My mattress had deflated during the night. We had breakfast in our little spot by the washroom. It hadn't rained any more and the sky was clear. We put Florence's tent on the table to help it dry out, then we headed back to Boston Bar around 9am. Just outside of town (the North side of town) we stopped to take pictures of a rail bridge and highway. The bridge was at the same height as the highway but the ground dropped off quite steeply below. Don climbed a hill of loose rocks to get the big picture. Florence braved the highway for a view from the other direction. — 30
To capture this scene we're presented with a few challenges. The camera can't see and experience the landscape the same way I do as I move around looking at different things. When we first stopped, I take it all in, an establishing shot. This is the big view, the traditional landscape with a purpose of decoding what it is I'm looking at. Where is the horizon? Are there any bears? — 31
Next I look at those features that attracted me to stop: the bridge, a sinuous curve of highway, perhaps the field of kneeÂhigh blue flowers. Where do they lead? What makes these different from other areas? When I walk through the landscape I concentrate on the details. Here's a flower in bloom, this one is past perfection. This rock is sharp. — 32
It's probably impossible to capture all these experiences at once in one image. I try a few instead, in this case the establishing shot and a few details of the kneehigh flowers. I shoot Florence through them to give a sense of scale. Traffic is always a problem. There are so many very large trucks. Fast. Noisy. Bits of gravel or whoknowswhat that may fly off. It's nerve racking. These highways just weren't built for people to walk along. — 33
There's always a rush to avoid potential problems with drivers who may not stay in their lane. There's a stress that inhibits careful composition or setting the exposure correctly. We went back to the boardedÂup Boston Bar train station. There was a commemorative garden at the back where trees had been planted in memory of three individuals. — 34
We met a tattooed woman without front teeth who said Chaumox (on our list) was a mountain and not a town or station. She said to look for the bunkhouse in North Bend (just across the river from Boston Bar). The old bunkhouse, she said, was just behind the new one, after the office. North Bend is CP. Boston Bar is CN. Let's be clear on that. I, of course, got all mixed up on this and thought the office was the new bunkhouse. In front of the office were a few shacks (one on either side) labelled "Sand". Was this the name of the station? We think they were storehouses for sand for when it snows. Fortunately Florence met a First Nations guy – North Bend is a reserve we think – and after some discussion about the fishing season and his "Boston Bar" sign on the porch he gave directions to go around and down (imagine the circular gesture). We found a street called Station Street which led down to the tracks, and what we took to be the old bunkhouse. A few photos later we went up Station Street and down another where we found the new bunkhouse. Relieved that it was all making sense we headed back to camp to pack up. There is a Chaumox Road in North Bend. It's the main road leading from the bridge. Perhaps the eponymous Chaumox Station was somewhere further on along this route.
— 35
The history of rags continues. The tents were caked in mud, and not dry mud either. After some ineffectual wiping we rolled everything up and crammed them into a large orange plastic bag. Hopefully we'd find a spot to dry them later.
— 36
— 37
North of Boston Bar, before the Boston Bar airport, near Ainsley Creek we stopped to photograph a CN train tunnel. I tried different approaches for this landscape: the wide angle establishing shot, a rather boring zoomin on the tunnel (sort of a portrait), and a few with details in the foreground and the landscape in the background. These last ones seem to be the most successful because they combine a sense of close intimacy with something as well as the faraway informational aspect. — 38
We stopped a bit further on for another view, but there were many posted warnings from the McKays not to trespass. We could just imagine old man McKay lurking in the bush with his shotgun. "Git off my land!" No photos. Jackass mountain summit was the next stop just a few kilometres further. Florence took a picture of the CP rail on the other side of the — 39
Fraser, probably directly across from the McKay property. The parking lot had a oneÂhour time limit. I can imagine all the bus tours stopping for pictures during a busy tourist season. There were good views up and down the river for classic postcard shots. During these early days we tried to stop whenever there was a potential view of train activity. Trains would go by every 20 minutes or so, so there was almost always something to see. — 40
At Kanaka we started to realize that all the the original CPR stops were somewhat suspect. We had stopped in the Kanaka Cafe where a retired engineer was having lunch. He couldn't think of a spot where you could load or unload anything around there. It's too steep. There's no way down to the track from the highway level. To top it off, the land is all private, and if that wasn't enough, it's a cliff. We heard about a movie called "The Pledge" directed by Sean Penn starring Jack Nicholson that was filmed there. Apparently it's quite forgettable. The woman who seemed to be running the restaurant was very friendly and told us everything about her 16yearold son who was now in Vancouver. And I mean everything. We managed to pry ourselves out of there and headed up to Siska or Cisco. It's spelled both ways. Siska is probably named for the local reserve. Cisco sounds like a corruption of Siska. In any case this is a famous spot for shots of where the two lines cross the river. We spent a fair bit of time trying to get the perfect postcard shot (or two).
— 41
— 42
Then, up to Lytton. Lytton has a cute little downtown with an old hotel and buildings brightly painted. Or maybe that was the incredible brightness of the day. That's how I remember it. Florence remembers it as calm, welcoming, nonthreatening. The big sign welcoming us let us know – in a starburst – that this is 'Canada's Hot Spot'. And it certainly was. Hot. — 43
Lytton sits on a ledge on the East side of the Fraser, just below where the Thompson meets it. The Fraser runs North to South and the Thompson runs in from the East at a right angle. Standing at the little park at the edge of town you can see the green waters of the Thompson sliding into the muddy brown of the Fraser and getting swallowed up. The CN tracks are on the shore, below the town. I took a call from work while Florence charmed the workers at the bottom to "not see — 44
anything" while she took pictures and recorded the train passing through. All of these yards are not open to the public and have "No Trespassing" signs. A large marmot scurried over the yard. Once again, there was no sign of any station at the tracks. There were large piles of railway materials, similar to other areas we had stopped. — 45
Remember Syska or Cisko, where the trains crossed the river? Obviously we didn't because we were surprised to learn that CP ran their track above the town, the East side, before turning East to follow the Thompson on the South. CN's track crosses the Thompson here and continues East on the North side of the river. Confused? Remembering who was on what side was always a problem. — 46
As we scouted areas from the highway the fast traffic was always a problem. We couldn't always stop because of large trucks directly behind, or because there just wasn't a place to pull over. The highway is a bit like the fastÂflowing Fraser: dangerous! The Visitors' Centre at Lytton was helpful. We learned the West side of the river is called Westside and is primarily native. However the mayor lives there too. The native language is called Thompson. Very few still speak the language because of the residential schools. The signs in Lytton are bilingual though. On the way into town the few stop signs for roads meeting the highway were also bilingual. There's a ferry on the Fraser somewhat to the north of where the Thompson meets up, and a pedestrian bridge to the south. High water this spring closed the ferry down, forcing everyone who lived in
— 47
Westside to take the passerelle to town. Lytton holds a Lytton River Festival on the Labour Day Weekend. We were both overheated and the idea of getting into the water seemed like a good idea. The Visitors' Centre woman said there was a beach under the bridge. It was private property, but the owner allowed people to swim there. I had some concerns about getting swept away by the current. The woman's friend said she swam there. Good enough. Unfortunately we couldn't access the road down. A large sign on the gate discouraged trespassers. So instead we took some pictures of the CN rail bridge, the waters and an old ruin. The Trans Canada turns Eastward at Lytton to follow the Thompson towards Cache Creek.
— 48
We stopped at Skihist park for lunch. There are good views of the north side of the canyon. Both of us had stopped here before. There weren't a lot of visitors, which seemed odd for summer. We spread out the wet and muddy tents and tarps out on the grass and fence to dry out. This didn't take too long at all. We took a few more photos of the austere, desertÂlike mountains. The CN line was visible — 49
on the other side, looking like it could slide into the river at any moment. A few live trees clung desperately to the gravel slopes, and dead ones tipped over looking like toothpicks. We got the sense that the trees were slowly surfing their way down the mountain side with the rocks. Eventually they will all end up in the river.
— 50
— 51
Skihist had a water tap. It was delightful to get some water on our burning feet. On the road again the highway descends close to the level of the river with many twists and turns. This is the spot I remember as a kid, riding in the old 1959 Studebaker piled high with the big canvas tent, sleeping bags and inflatable and foam mattresses. — 52
Further on the Thompson and the highway turn northward again. We stopped for a few shots along the way, including one spot where the only fatality from falling rocks in the canyon happened. There was a memorial for the truck driver who was killed. A bit further the CP line crossed the highway. We stopped and tried to figure out how to shoot that. Once again, we had to be very cautious because of the speed with which people travel. — 53
At Goldspan Provincial Park there was an excellent view of the CN track (north side) and a tunnel. However the sun was behind the mountain. This made for extreme contrasts with the areas still in the sun. It was impossible to get a decent shot and we decided to remember to stop here on our way back.
— 54
Just on the outskirts of Spence's Bridge, probably in the Reserve, was a tiny green shingle church. Somewhat in disrepair it invited a quick stop for a few shots. We had a discussion about including power lines in photos. Are they a distraction or an important part of this scene? In Spence's Bridge we drove a few roads looking for an likely area where the rail stop could have been. We found the rail sign and what — 55
looked like a crumbling foundation of something next to the tracks on Station Road. Onward. The afternoon was wearing on. The highway crosses the Thompson at Spence's Bridge and continues along the North side with the CN line. We stopped when feasible to see if there was a view. We had a good one of a mostly orange train passing below along a sinuous — 56
curve. A large orange rock jutted out of the river, incongruous with the green and golds of the river and its banks. Florence rediscovered her little white church on the other side. She had wanted to find this from two previous trips: 2006 and 2012. There were a few buildings close to it but nothing that could be called a town.
— 57
It's not marked on the map. Possibly it's Toketic or Spatsum from our list of 1886 stops. It's on the CPR side. Further on we stopped at a sign commemorating the the Canadian Northern Pacific's last spike here, in the town of Basque, in 1915. We're still on the CN side. On the other side were ranches too, leading us to think that 'Basque' covers both sides of the river. Basque was a — 58
stop for both CP and CN. I was confused: the plaque says this was the third transcontinental crossing. CP was the first, CN the third – who was the second? Ashcroft Manor: Florence wanted to see this again from her 2012 trip. This is in Ashcroft Village, just shy of Ashcroft proper.
— 59
Right next to the manor are four identical white houses, now abandoned and worse for wear. They are right by the road, and at the end is a garage with five doors. Who built these and why? Speculation: a rancher had four daughters and built these houses for them and their families. Later, horrible things happened, the houses were abandoned, and woe to anyone who trespasses. The horror film waits for development. — 60
At Ashcroft we saw one motel, but after seeing the room we decided to go to Cache Creek instead. The motel we picked ended up being right next to the highway with a wellused road in the back, due to me getting my directions all buggered up and thinking we were behind the town. Florence did not sleep at all. I slept like a baby. Florence had worries about her photo quality because of the new camera. We downloaded our pictures and had a look at them on both her and my laptops. A quick peek at a few in Photoshop showed there was lots of good stuff there. We also noticed that in the summer the light in the morning, contrary to what we'd normally think, was a horror for exposure. 1) there was a white haze over anything in the distance. 2) the brightness of the sky contrasted with anything on the ground that wasn't in direct sunlight, making subjects have a horrendously overexposed sky. 3) White clouds are a killer. 4) the view from the back of the camera is useless for the darker details. — 61
Tuesday, July 9 – journée de chaleur epouvantable We left Cache Creek at 8 am. It was already hot and desiccating. We went back to Ashcroft and found the historical park with a replica of the old station now serving as a washroom. The CP tracks are right behind and have a shed in the distance. Ashcroft is a stop for The Canadian, so we asked a few CPR workers where the CN station was. "Right, right, right, left" was the formula. We never did find the station, but we discovered a work yard of sorts with the usual pile of ties (concrete with re bar), and other stuff. There was a big working shed in the distance. Between the tracks and the river were a few small houses, including an abandoned old shack and one place with some interesting sculptures. — 62
— 63
— 64
— 65
— 66
We went back to Cache Creek to get back on the TransÂCanada and headed into the rising sun. We made a few stops along the way. Once just past Juniper beach for a scenic view of the valley and river, and once down the Walhachin Road.
— 67
Walhachin was a stop for both CP and CN in 1932. Our original plan (from that morning) was to ignore it and head straight to Savona, the next stop, because Walhachin is on the South side of the Thompson, while the highway is on the North side before crossing to Savona.
— 68
Our plans changed when we saw Walhachin Road. 'Visit historic Walhachin' could not be resisted. We discovered cacti in the scrub along with several varieties of sage. We cut a branch of a fragrant varietal for the car. Florence reminded me to watch for snakes. Sage: there are two kinds in this area, rabbit and another one. It's the small leafed variety that's fragrant. — 69
We ran into an older couple from Maine, Marie and Stanley Jordan, who were watching trains. They had all sorts of gear and radios: one for CN, the other for CP. Florence got an interview with both. The woman combined the train spotting with bird watching. She wasn't overly impressed with the redÂwinged blackbirds ("we have those at home"), but had spotted a kingfisher of some sort the day before. The — 70
man had a book, Canadian Trackside Guide 2013, that listed all the current stops and distances. Florence made a note. Marie and Stanley taught us about hot boxes. These are monitored from the tracks, or next to the tracks, and are able to sense the temperature of the axles as they pass by. They then send a computerized voice signal on the radio counting the axles and their status. In the old days this sort of tracking was important because the oil would evaporate, the axles would melt, and the the train would derail. Now they help people like Marie and Stanley know when the next train is coming. We continued down the side road to Walhachin, crossing an old black bridge that had two osprey nests. One was huge, with a large part of it made of orange rope. Walhachin was small and up the hill on the other side. There was a train behind the town, next to the mountain. It was CP, and appeared to be loading gravel. At the front edge of town we could look down to the river where both CN and CP shared the bank. The CN line crosses the Thompson shortly after the the bridge we had taken, and shortly before the Number 1 highway crosses.
— 71
We continued to Kamloops, to the Visitor Centre. Armed with maps and information about motels, the CPR office, the VIA rail station on CN station, Tranquille, and Future Shop, we ended up at the park downtown by the river even though I tried to get lost and go to Merritt instead.
— 72
The heat was miserable, and – don't forget – Florence had not slept the night before. Part of Florence's train project was to talk to various rail employees. She should have called from Vancouver instead of just showing up, but here we were. Working up a bit of courage we headed over to the CPR office, which is almost downtown, and in an industrial and nononsense brutalist modernist building.
— 73
Locked. We talked to a few engineers from Revelstoke who recommended we talk to the Yard Manager who recommended we talk to the office assistant: Karen. Finally, a name. Apparently she was at lunch. We waited for a bit, saw a woman engineer take an engine out, and eventually left for ice cream after a thorough recording of engines. Coconut ice cream. We went to the old CPR station which is closer to the river, across from the park. This is where the Rocky Mountaineer stops three days a week. We took a few photos despite the lack of energy. The Mountaineer was expected around 5pm, and a worker was putting out number signs on the ground. Kamloops North is CN and is also where The Canadian from VIA Rail stops. We didn't visit it. The day was terrible. We were always thirsty, dehydrated, tired, overheated, unable to quench our thirst with our water. It felt like it had been heated to a few degrees above body temperature, despite being in Thermoses. On the way back to the beach (after all, this was a vacation) we clambered up the passerelle that crosses CP's tracks and took a few shots of CP's yard and office. A train was passing by too. — 74
Instead of going to Tranquille as originally planned – Tranquille was a stop on the 1886 CPR line, and the 1932 CP and CN lines – we made a new plan and went straight to Revelstoke, stopping only at Craigellachie to observe the tourists. There was a bus full of them. A book could be written about tourist sites, traps, and what should be at important places like this. I thought the large photo reproduction of the driving of the last spike should have had cutouts for people to put their heads through; sort of a "Look, ma, I'm driving the last spike!" moment. Florence was outraged at the thought. We arrived at the Tourist Information Centre in Revelstoke at 6:50 pm. In a minor miracle, it was open until 7pm and Leda served us with an extraordinary enthusiasm. In fact we were concerned she might end up escorting us to look for a place for the night.
— 75
We settled on the Powder Springs Inn, which looked like it was one of those ski places where a large group of friends share a small room. Anyway it had two rooms and a kitchenette. It was so comfortable we stayed three nights, forgetting our original resolution to camp for half the time. Mind you, after Boston Bar we had lost some of that enthusiasm. We decided to slow down one day, which turned out to be busy anyway. The Inn has a pub attached to it with an inset patio called "The Last Drop", which is a play on the last drop in the glass and the "long drop with a short stop" joke. The narrative attached to the pub is that Judge Begbie, the hanging judge of 1880s BC, had spent time in a pub in Scotland also called "The Last Drop". There is a mountain nearby called Mount Begbie, and a local brewery named after the mountain. Florence thought the last drop was a reference to the last spike. I snootily informed her about the Judge's influence on British Columbia jurisprudence.
— 76
Wednesday, July 10: At 8:45 am we headed West of Revelstoke, back the way we came and took a few shots of tunnels next to a small lake, some tracks, a highway bridge and ThreeValley Gap. — 77
This last place was really something. It's a Walt Disney/Lego interpretation of the Banff hotel, all gables and bright red metal roof, and includes a historical village of buildings saved from nearby sites as well as a number of railway cars, etc. Florence took some pictures while I inquired inside. The town had been on the West side of the lake, but nothing was there now. The current agglomeration is on the East side of the lake and was started in the late 1950s by the Bell family which still owned and operated it. — 78
— 79
— 80
— 81
— 82
We had an 11 am appointment at the Revelstoke Railway Museum. We recorded Marjorie Somerton, executive director, as she gave us a tour of the railway museum and an overview of the CPR in Revelstoke, the building of the railway through the pass and the Revelstoke Heritage Railway Society. She introduced us to Les Handley and Ernie — 83
Ottewell, two retired CPR engineers in their 80s who volunteer extensively at the museum. Florence recorded both men as they told anecdotes and explained the engines they used, the differences between steam and diesel. They had run both. Their careers ran from the midÂ1940s to the 1980s. They were also some of the founders of the society. The interviews took place — 84
inside the 5468 Mikado oil burner steam engine. This was the first engine to do something historical. Ernie was the person who went to get the engine in Montreal and spent six weeks getting it ready to roll into the museum. Ernie mentioned some trains can have up to 170 cars. To transcribe the entire interview would take too long. We stayed at least an hour with these two old codgers. — 85
Les mentioned that railway workers use the word "Fusee" for a flare, which is funny, since that's a french word. We had lunch in the park by the river behind the aquatic centre, where we discussed the project and various facets thereof.
— 86
I went to the regular museum and archives for some information about dad's first wife and son who were killed in a mud slide in 1959. I met the curator Catherine English who had lots of information. Florence took a short nap in the meantime. We walked up across the tracks to where the CN station was and also where the the slide happened. Florence did a few recordings of trains — 87
and we took a few pictures of the station. The station is not the original, which was torn down in 1978 and replaced with a modern square structure. We met Karen, who we were trying to meet in Kamloops. Karen had come out to warn us not to step across the yellow line. Through a series of accidental questions Florence discovered her identity. Karen gave Florence the CP Communications 1Â800 number for arranging staff interviews. — 88
— 89
We walked back and took a few more shots from the back of the train museum and then continued on to the cemetery, and then back to the motel.
— 90
— 91
— 92
— 93
— 94
It was a warm day, but not vicious. We finished the day with a beer at "The Last Drop" and worked on the journal.
— 95
Thursday, July 11: We were awake at 7am and started the day writing the journal. We left Revelstoke 8:30 am. The first photos were of a tunnel through the Albert Canyon, on the Illecillewaet river. We passed an accident of one small car. Several ambulances were there. A humbling reminder to be careful. — 96
We stopped for a train shed across the river. This one had grasses growing on the roof. A little further we stopped at the Lanark avalanche shed on the highway. Across the Illecillewaet was a long structure of cement and metal for the train's avalanche shed. Although quite interesting architecturally it was difficult to photograph since it was in the shade. — 97
As well as the train's avalanche/snow sheds we got photos of the highway's shed, the wild flowers and the view up the Illecillewaet. Florence recorded highway noises too. We also found wild strawberries on the side of the highway. Before I forget: yesterday in Revelstoke there were plenty of thimble berries. — 98
— 99
— 100
Next was Flat Creek: a siding right next to the highway. A double culvert allowed the creek to flow under the tracks. A rest area on other side provided a few nonÂtraditional opportunities like a gate in the foreground.
— 101
The MacDonald Mountain tunnel looked a little bizarre simply because it was so easy to spot, and convenient to point the camera at. — 102
We reached the Rogers Pass Discovery Centre at 11:15. We asked for Michelle Cole, who was the executive director at the Revelstoke Train museum before Marjorie. It was her day off. We got maps and information on Glacier House and Stoney Creek. More on that later. By 11:45 we were well on the tracks to Stoney Creek. We abandoned it at 12:10. — 103
A note on contradictory travel instructions In the beginning, at the Rogers Pass Discovery Centre, the woman said Stoney Creek Bridge was 5.9 km from the Discovery Centre. She said it would be visible on the left from the highway; we'd be able to pull over and (carefully!) cross for pictures. Anxious not to miss it we stopped at 5 km. There was nothing visible on the right, but an access road was easily visible on the left. This seemed like a likely spot for a CP maintenance road. Down the road we met a CP truck coming up. Three young men. They said the bridge was about one mile down this road. He reminded us to be careful: those trains can sneak up on you – you wouldn't think so, but they can. He also said the bridge wasn't visible from the highway. Note on the note: one thing we've noticed is people who work on the rails don't have a clear idea of where things are from the highway or what's accessible by car. They have a railroad perspective – that's their road.
— 104
Back to our sidebar on travel instructions: We walked for a good halfanhour. My story: I had hoped the road would continue down to the level of the creek and follow it. The track meanwhile would stay high. Thus we'd have a spectacular and unusual view of the structure from below. However the road petered out at the level of the track. In hindsight it's obvious the road was meant for the inspection trucks to get to the track, get on the track and then do their thing. Florence's perspective: Let's find the bridge from the tracks, and hope for a service road to go down from there for necessary repairs. The only obstacle would have been if the road was on the other side of the creek. Florence couldn't see herself crossing the bridge on foot. Along the track we saw a sign saying "Stoney Creek". At mile "79" it was clear that things were not so simple. No bridge was visible and the track just kept going and going. Discouraged we turned back. A few minutes later a Canadian Transport truck came by on the tracks (going backwards). The guy in the truck was quite firm that this was private property and he'd appreciate it if we went back to where we came from. No problem. We asked about the bridge. He said it was visible from the highway after crossing a highway bridge, on the lefthand side. More to follow.
— 105
At 1:20 we had lunch between Glacier and Yoho parks, West of Donald, which was a stop for the 1886 train. At 2:30 we reached Golden, got gas and directions to the train station that had been moved to the museum. Looking for 13th Street we ended up at the rail bridge over the Columbia. The water is a greyish green, an unusual colour and the river wide and shallow. — 106
We realized this was a "JournÊe de dingues". We managed to find our way downtown and got new directions which seemed to lead back to where we were before. Fortunately Florence suggested crossing a different bridge and within a few minutes we came to the Golden museum with train station. We think it was moved there in 1991. Photos were taken and off we went. — 107
— 108
— 109
At 4:15 we were at the Information Centre in Field. Alex was the man behind the counter and full of suggestions and information. He also had a thing for trains which gave him a perspective congruent with our own. He updated our information on Glacier House we obtained at Rogers Pass. See the "Notes for next trip" section. Alex told us that if we saw a train leaving Field we'd have enough time to get to the Spiral Tunnels before the train. — 110
We started with the Spiral tunnels. There was only a view of one side of the spiral, and no train. You'd think the spiral concept would be easy to grasp, but somehow, perhaps the sheer scale of the project, made it difficult to comprehend where the tracks went and how the train did it's manoeuvres, even with a handy model right there.
— 111
We left for our second item, the Walkinthepast trail, at the end of a camp ground. On the way down the highway we saw a train heading up from Field. Remember Alex's advice? We turned around, raced up to the Spiral Tunnels parking lot, sprinted to the view and saw the locomotive had already entered the first tunnel. It was still impressive, if hard to capture on camera. — 112
After the pusher locomotive (the engine at the end of the train) went through we went back to the Walkinthepast trail. It was rather steep for an 'easy' walk, and had fallen trees to be climbed over and crawled under. At the end of the trail were the remains of an old narrowgauge engine that had been used to haul rock out of the tunnels. It had been
— 113
knocked on its side and abandoned. I can't help but but imagine the last crew to run it got their hands on a stick of dynamite and put it under the engine to celebrate finishing the job.
— 114
— 115
— 116
— 117
On the way out we took several postcard photos of the scenery. Mt Stephen has the waterfall that evaporates as it falls and Cathedral Mountain, just behind and to the east, looks like a volcanic plug – but it isn't. The Kicking Horse River runs next to the highway: a broiling mass of the greygreen water that seems typical of this part of the Rockies. — 118
— 119
On the way back to Field we pulled to the side because of the group of female and young Elk in the river, trying to cross the highway. Were they Elk or caribou? And what kind of elk? Discussion ensued. We also saw caution signs for sheep and jumping deer.
— 120
Back in Field by 6:40 pm we did an express trip to capture a few items with the camera. First, the telegraph station, made of brick. This is the only preÂWWII building left in Field. Next up, the water tower for trains, and then traces where the roundhouse was: beds pointing to the existing station. The station isn't accessible to the public.
— 121
— 122
Continuation de l'aventure des ponts Stoney Creek (et les autres): 1. Premièrement: As we entered Glacier National Park Florence noticed the first bridge in the gathering gloom of dusk. The sky was darkening with clouds. The wind picked up. We could see rain falling in the distance. Bad lighting! The site is next to a sign warning about avalanches, and another reminder to buy your pass to the park. Florence thought this is where I had suggested we stop on the way up. I'm not so sure myself. Our trip mileage: 1143 km 20 km from Rogers Pass Info Centre.
— 123
2. Deuxièmement: Shortly later Florence spotted another bridge! We quickly skidded to the side. We had to walk along the highway for a while. We think this was the long walk. Trip mileage: 1148.5 km. 15 km from Rogers Pass Info Centre.
— 124
3. Troisièmement: The cement barriers beside the highway had been moved giving a narrow space on the pavement for us to walk along. For the first time we had the comfort of not having to trudge through long grasses, wildflowers and weeds. This bridge had cement pillars, telling us it couldn't be Stoney Creek, which is a metal bridge. It was the longest bridge of the three. We left the bridge at 9:29 pm thinking we were done and we could (finally) go home and have supper. Trip mileage: 1150.0 km. 10 km from Rogers Pass Info Centre. … and a quatrième: When we left the third, Florence said "I hope I won't discover a fourth one," and minutes later said "I'm sorry, I have to admit I just saw a fourth one." There was no room to stop, the light had gone, and we had had enough by then. It was surprisingly cold. There was intermittent rain. Logically this was the Stoney Creek. Dammit. Trip mileage: not noted, probably around 1152 km. 8 km from Rogers Pass Info Centre. But maybe it wasn't. Visibility was not good. Reference note: our trip mileage at Rogers Pass was 1163.10 km. We arrived back at Revelstoke at 10:30 pm.
— 125
— 126
— 127
Friday, July 12: We started the day writing the journal and trying to get facts straight in our heads. So much has happened it's difficult to keep places and times in the right order. And should there be a the story line? The journal was started as a series of notes: we did this, we did that. But there's more to it than just a linear progression of notes. It's after the week has passed as I lie awake at night connecting unrelated thoughts: seven days, Seven Against Thebes, seven deadly sins, seven days to create the earth, that I start to think it's not just a grocery list. I don't want to invent a story either, though, and that's the danger of a documentary, shoehorning bits and pieces into preestablished narratives. At three minutes we need this, at 20 minutes there has to be conflict. We didn't have any personal conflict. This won't make a great roadtrip movie. At no point did things fall apart. By 10:50 am we left Revelstoke after filling the tank. — 128
At Three Valley we took a few more shots of the avalanche sheds across the lake. We continued to the Western end of the lake, where Three Valley used to stand, according to the woman at the Three Valley Resort on the Eastern end. Nothing remains except a shard of a plate. The road is called Three Valley Siding. — 129
We stopped at "19 Mile Overhead" for yet another shot of a train passing under the highway. The train was orange.
— 130
Malakwa Station Road was next. This was few kilometres off the highway and included "Rayes Rustick Wood Things".
— 131
A few kilometres later we finally did something else: we took pictures of an old saw mill at Mylinemi Road. At CambieÂSolsqua Road we ran into a character called Sheldon Keith Ready, who had been living off the grid for 32 months. His glasses were held together with rubber bands and bits of string and had a long white beard. His laugh was deep and infectious. He had been carrying — 132
water home from an artesian well across the highway in 2Âlitre plastic bottles. Although at first glance you'd figure he'd be a nut he was quite knowledgeable about the area, the history and the watershed. Yes, the watershed. He was concerned about how the highway and railway affected the watershed in this area. Florence seized the opportunity to interview him as a local beside the railway. — 133
One thing Sheldon mentioned was this area used to be called Bowie. The train, he said, used to make a whole series of stops including Bowie, Cambie and Solsqua. After this we were in Sicamous, where we went to the information centre where two very young women tried to get us lost. Fortunately, we've been down that road before. We found a camp ground for the — 134
night, a private one called Whispering Pines Camping and RV Park, at Mara Lake. It was a bit of a detour off the highway, but the other campsites were almost full. This was 2 pm. We decided to have lunch somewhere other than the campsite because of the thoroughness of the mosquito assault. We headed back to Sicamous to find the remains of the train station. The young woman at Sicamous had said that although it was long gone you could still see the foundations of the hotel. She gave very clear instructions. How could we mess this up? However, "Old Buhn Road" didn't materialize and before we knew it we were well on our way to Salmon Arm. We stopped at a rest stop for lunch and reevaluated. I showed backgammon to Florence and we played a game. We decided to continue to Salmon Arm. I had a few thoughts on organizing the project's information. The problem, it seemed to me, was how to organize the zones or areas where all these materials are collected. And what better way than to use the divisions the rail roads use themselves for engineers and crews? For CPR that would be VancouverNorth Bend; North Bend Kamloops; KamloopsRevelstoke; RevelstokeGolden; GoldenCalgary. The problem with this approach is CN and CP would have different divisions, especially after Kamloops where the lines diverge. — 135
You could follow just one division, but the big picture would include both lines, making is somewhat artificial. Following a railway's internal divisions would be a nice conceit. I also had an idea of a TV documentary, or perhaps series of documentaries, of portraits of engineers running their section. It would give a picture of that part of Canada and a picture of working Canadians. The camera could follow them from the beginning of their shift to the end of the day. It would work well on Knowledge Network. As I was thinking about the project itself, I realized that we had taken very few shots of the towns we passed through. If the project was about Canada being built by the railway, it makes sense to show those communities, the towns the rail was significant in building. The project would then be a more complete portrait of Canada, or small town Canada if you ignore the big stops. Over the past 124 years (1887Â2013) some of those stops have flourished, like Kamloops, others have disappeared. There's probably a commentary on how that happened, and why now there are so few stops. And hidden in this history of the rail building communities and the rail erasing itself from communities is the highway, the third line, a line that didn't need stops because you could stop anywhere along it, although no one does, you start at one point and go to your destination, — 136
ignoring places like Chase unless you need to go to the bathroom, or maybe you have relatives there, or maybe, just maybe, you want to go on a walking tour, and places that were once a stop on the rail line, but first became no longer viable and then the highway cuts the corner off, like Notch Hill, and there's no one going by this lonely area so it slowly erodes into the field. But I'm getting ahead of myself. At Salmon Arm we stopped at the information centre. This one had an efficient and wellÂinformed clerk. But the peculiar layout of Salmon Arm had us scratching our heads. The town is not laid out on a grid but what appears to be an overlapping series of triangles. As we were turning the map around and around in the parking lot a young woman noticed our distress and offered to guide us to the train station. The station is one of the few that is still on its original site. It was boarded up; VIA Rail doesn't use it any more. There were supports holding up the eaves, but otherwise it seemed in decent condition.
— 137
We stopped at a cafe and wrote our journal. That bare bones account is the source of this document. We drank a rather weak iced coffee and an iced tea dÊgueulasse. We stayed a long time, around two hours, which allowed us to catch up to the end of the previous day. We decided, somewhat stubbornly, to have another go at finding the Sicamous hotel and station foundations. Salmon Arm Information Centre had had a better map (Sicamous had run out of maps) and I — 138
had found Buhn Road on it. Buhn branched off Old Sicamous Road which is why we couldn't find it before. Old Sicamous Road switches back and forth down the cliff to the water's edge. It's one lane wide and quickly discovered it ends in a bedandbreakfast garage. Discouraged we headed back up the hill and into town for supper. It was at least 8:30 pm.
— 139
Sicamous has a nice little foreshore park, right under the railway bridge. We had supper just as the sun was setting. And then, suddenly, as we were admiring the dying remains of the day we saw the foundations, just past a big willow tree. We were on the other side of the water, but the wallÂlike structure couldn't be anything else.
— 140
Florence recorded a passing train and us talking about the trip. Darkness descended. Dishes needed to be done, a fire created, backgammon to be played. Back to the camp ground. Florence had a bit of a shock. Our site was delimited by cars on three sides. It felt a little close. However, there were no party animals and everyone went to bed before midnight. There wasn't any rain either, and the mosquitoes had gone somewhere else.
— 141
Saturday, July 13: We were up by 6 am. We took our time having breakfast with a fire, drinking our tea and coffee (instant) and discussing a naming convention for photos. The idea from yesterday of using the rail lines' divisions was quickly dismissed because of the two lines. I suggested suggested using map coordinates, but Florence baulked at that idea, perhaps thinking of our IOCO project. Florence eventually decided she'd use Excel with different columns for file name and site number. The file name will be city name and number, i.e. KamloopsÂ0068.jpg. We left our Mara campsite at 9:10am. Instead of going up the 97A back to Sicamous we went south. We wanted to head back on the 97B to Salmon Arm. At Grindrod we just had to stop to capture the best hubcap collection ever. — 142
Along the way we had a conversation about how to interpret art and the nature of allegory. Before we knew it we were in Enderby! This was too far, so we had to turn around to find the 97B. We passed through Salmon Arm and stopped at Canoe, which is now a suburb. A local mentioned there had been a derailment there last year of a coal train. It missed all the houses, but obviously made an — 143
impression on this guy, who was smoking a cigarette that he had carefully removed the filter from. In his hand was a plastic bag with a sixÂpack of beer inside. As we passed through Tappen, we suddenly turned to the left to visit Graydon and Maureen at their winery, Recline Ridge, a few kilometres off the highway. Graydon pointed out that there was nothing at — 144
Tappen any more, nor at Carlin, but the Christmas train stops at Notch Hill. Every year CP organizes a Christmas train that travels from East to West. We took the back roads to Notch Hill. Florence had been there last year with her friend Jan and remembered the area. In fact, there was a delightfully decrepit church there. We found it easily enough, and it was being restored by the Save Notch Hill Church Association. Fun fact: the meandering backroad we took used to be the TransÂCanada — 145
highway. We spent a fair bit of time there talking to the volunteers who were working away on the old catholic church. It's a fascinating project and we gathered a lot of information and pictures. It was at Notch Hill that Florence was finally able to record the train whistle.
— 146
We had lunch on the side of the road, right on the grass, which gathered a few interested looks from people driving by. Then we got mixed up with road names and directions. After a few u turns we took the road Florence knew from last year back to highway.
— 147
— 148
— 149
— 150
Speaking of uÂturns, we had to do a few more at Squilax, both to get to the tracks and to get back to the highway. For the first time I refused to get out the car. There was nothing there but Florence went out anyway. At 2:30 we were in Chase. We took a short nap in a small park but got up when the train passed. — 151
Refreshed, we found the Information Centre which was manned by two young women. One was from the Adams band and the other had a slight accent we couldn't identify. She had an amazing laugh, and used it freely. She didn't know where the Chase station used to be, but mentioned the current building used by CP. She suggested we stay a few days in Chase to do the walking tours, find the old mill site, etc etc.
— 152
The list of things to do in Chase is endless! We did a few shots of the CP building and headed off to a local cafe to finish off this journal. For seven days we have always been looking for something: old train stops, places to stay, places to eat, it never stopped. At least God got the seventh day off. We decided not to look for Pritchard or Ducks before Kamloops, because on estime que l'on a fait ASSEZ. Quand mĂŞme. It is 5:03 as I write this in Chase. We took the Coquihala back to Hope and were back at Don's shortly before 9:30 pm. 6 days, 13 hours after starting.
— 153
— 154
Appendix A
Our lists of train stations 1886 First Transcontinental Victoria Vancouver Hastings Port Moody Westminster Junction Hammond Mission Nicomen Harrison Agassiz Ruby Creek: We started here, or so I thought, until we realized we were on the wrong side of the Fraser. Ruby Creek should be on the North side. Hope: CN station, moved and now a community hall Yale: Foundation, or concrete pad North Bend: Crossing and old bunkhouse Keefers Cisco (Siska, BC): Bridges Lytton: Siding Dryrock Spence’s Bridge: Foundation on the CN side Spatsum: little old white church Ashcroft: CN rail yard Pennys Savonas Cherry Creek Tranquille Kamloops: Old station now used
by the Rocky Mountaineer Ducks Shuswap (Chase): Yard station North Hill (Notch Hill?): Crossing or siding Salmon Arm: old station, on site, boarded up Sicamous: old foundation visible Craigellachie: Tourist highway stop Griffin Lake Clanwilliam Revelstoke: Station Twin Bute Albert Canyon Illecillewaet Ross Peak Siding Glacier House: Ruins, but we didn't stop Rogers Pass: Station, but we didn't stop Bear Creek Six Mile Creek Beaver Mouth Donald: A town, but we didn't stop Moberly House Golden: Station moved, boarded up Palliser Leanchoil Otter Tail Field — 155
1932 CPR
Hope: CN station, moved and now a community hall Trafalgar: Siding or Crossing Squeah: Emory Creek? Yale: A concrete pad Stout Chapmans Boston Bar: CN station moved and boarded up Boothroyd Inkitsaph Falls Creek Cisco: Bridges Lytton: CN crossing Gladwin Thompson Drynoch Spence’s Bridge: CN station foundtion wall Toketic: little old white church (?) Spatsum Basque: ranches Semlin Walhachin: Nothing Savona Munro Cherry Creek
Tranquille Kamloops: old station now a stop for the Mountaineer Ducks Pritchard Shuswap Chase: Yard station Squilax: Crossing Elson North Hill: "Notch" Hill crossing Carlin Tappen Salmon Arm: Station still onsite, boarded up Canoe: Crossing Sicamous: Foundations visible Solsqua Cambrie: Crossing Melakwa: Crossing Craigellachie: Tourist trap off highway Taft Three Valley: Crossing, broken plate Clanwilliam Revelstoke: Station
— 156
1932 CN
Hope: Station moved and now a community hall Haig: Siding Choate: Crossing Yale: Concrete pad still there Spuzzum: Passed right by China Bar North Bend: Bunk houses Chaumox Keefers Kanaka: No way down (or up!) Lytton: Siding Gossett Seddell
Skoonka Spence’s Bridge: Foundation wall Martel Basque: Plaque for the third trans Canada crossing Ashcroft: Rail yard McAbee Anglesey Walhachin: Nothing visible Savona Copper Creek Frederick Tranquille Kamloops: Station
— 157
2013 The Canadian Vancouver Mission Agassiz Katz ? North Bend Ashcroft (CN station) Kamloops North Clearwater Blue River Valemount
— 158
Appendix B
The Landscape Preliminary notes for an essay (or essai) on how to approach representing a view in front of us.
land scopes landscape (n.) c.1600, "painting representing natural scenery," from Dutch landschap, from Middle Dutch landscap "region," from land "land" (see land) + scap "ship, condition" (see ship). Originally introduced as a painters' term. Old English had cognate landscipe, and cf. Old High German lantscaf, German Landschaft, Old Norse landskapr. Meaning "tract of land with its distinguishing characteristics" is from 1886. The landscape shows what we saw, from our point of view. It pulls out what we see as the important features: this tree, that mountain. A landscape is a mirror on us too, of course. What we think is important is represented and prioritized.
Maps The landscape is a map, skewed to eye level. It shows the lay of the land: this is where the mountain is, this is what the tree looks like. Our current geometric view of maps has been determined through a few centuries of abstracted birdeye views (not humaneye views). But that wasn’t always the case. Imagine ancient hominids traipsing across an unknown continent. Would they sketch out views to show where the river can be found? Roman maps were maps of roads. They were abstract unscaled lines labelling distances.
— 159
And more recently, think of the medieval seaman’s portolan maps, which often included a view of various cities as seen from sea. The lanscape helped identify what was being looked at. Our current birdseye view overlaid with a precise grid changes when we use Google Street View, where the map switches into the human view. The landscape reappears.
Documentation When we show something in a setting we employ a different sort of scope, and yet similar: we represent what we saw. A landscape is documentation, but it can also be a portrait of items inside.
Many scopes Our views are created by the eye’s grain of resolution: landscape (the big picture), portrait (the thing), detail (a small part that somehow says everything). Our attention and sense of place change depending on the context of subject in its represented space. With a landscape we scan the horizon and subconsciously map the area. Where are the paths? How do we move through this? A portrait invites us to face a subject in the foreground, as if we were in the same room. Hello, how are you? A detail puts us inches away. Intimate, closeup, as if it were in our hands. Our reaction to these scopes of view is determined by that grain of resolution. — 160
A problem sharing the experience Culturally we have an overload of images. An exhibition of a thousand photos of ‘what we saw’ will not share the enormity and ineffable nature of experience. We need a way to jar the sensibilities to provoke an epiphany of place.
Punctuated metonymies Metonymy makes a part stand for the whole: a hand for a labourer, a door for a house. These details work metaphorically, they assume we already know the whole and can decipher the meanings of the detail. They’re also powerful because they bring our view, our grain of ocular vision into intimate closeness, as if we were inches away. But too many details by themselves don’t provide a sense of context. It’s easy for the sense of intimacy to be overwhelmed. After all, we can only hold one item in our hands at a time. With too many closeup details we’re no longer looking at “this object” but at “this whole series of objects”. Our grain of resolution shifts from close to farther away as we group them together into something bigger: an exhibition. But, if the details are punctuated by landscapes that push the view back into a farseeing mode the eye can later travel back to the details and restore that sense of closeness.
— 161
— 162