Sometimes a day that looks like it will turn out to be a disaster gives you a pleasant surprise and becomes one that you will always cherish.
It started out to be one of those Nimpkish Heights mornings when the low cloud just didn’t want to lift and let the sun, that you knew was up there, do its thing. Every year we celebrate our daughter, Kathy’s birthday out at Nimpkish Lake, where every summer there is a gathering of the clans of windsurfers to form what looks like a huge gypsy encampment.
The previous night we had celebrated the above event until the wee hours and had packed our picnic things back into the car by the campfire light. On this following morning I was not only short on sleep but also concerned because I had left my camera lying on the picnic table.
Knowing that on this kind of morning, when the fog was hanging around the coast that it would be sunny at the other end of Nimpkish Lake, I made the decision to kill two birds with one stone. I would make a painting trip to that part of the lake, regain my camera and maybe even get a chance to sketch with my daughter.
When I pulled out on to the main highway from Nimpkish Heights Road I was so busy watching for oncoming traffic that I didn’t notice passing my daughter, bringing my camera and frantically waving to get my attention. When I got to the gypsy encampment I was, to my disappointment, informed of this fact.
My son-in-law knows this area quite well, having camped there every summer for countless years, so I asked him if he knew of a road that gave access to Nimpkish Lake before the Anutz Lake turnoff.
“No, but there’s one just after it”, he replied helpfully and proceeded to draw a directional map in the sand. By this time the sun was burning its way into the little sheltered compound and I was eager to be off to a potentially new painting spot. Too eager, perhaps, because I got the directions a bit mixed up.
After turning off the Zeballos road toward Anutz Lake, I should have made a second right hand turn into the lake and then continued on past the tiny road that accesses the lake. This would have taken me to the desired spot on Nimpkish Lake. Instead, I went barrelling by and came to a Y in the road accompanied by a sign that told me left was Hustan Caves and right was Tlakwa Main. All roads by now were hot and dusty. Tlakwa Main must be the way, I pondered and proceeded on a course that felt as if it were halfway to the Queen Charlottes before I had the sense to turn around. It kept getting hotter and dustier.
The cool breezes of Hustan Lake were looming foremost in my mind when I made my second mistake. I did not remember that traveling down the Hustan Cave road and then continuing on past the caves gained the lake. Once more I didn’t catch on until I viewed the lake about five hundred feet below me. In my frustration at failing to achieve the desired destination I hadn’t taken the time to eat or drink. This was not a good day and what made it worse was that I was aware it was my fault!
When I finally made it to the lake, however, its magic made my day worthwhile. The breezes I had dreamed of wafted over me while I had my lunch and sketched Pinder Peak and its accompanying mountains in all their snowy glory. The painting shown here proves that no matter how bad a day starts never give up on it!
Comments: email: henschel@island.net or website: www.henschelfinearts.com