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As expected winter has taken its toll. I have seen two carcasses so far, one young foal that died near the station
has been tagged for research, the other lays at the bottom of a sandy depression and has not been disturbed. Most
of the horses I have seen are thin but not weak and even though their ribs are visible beneath their heavy coats
they appear healthy and full of vigor. Foals are being born, next years foals are being made. There has been
mating behaviour all around me and the stallions are actively defending their ranges and covering mares. |
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By early afternoon conditions were excellent and I decided to try riding a bike on the tideline to see if it was
faster than hiking. This proved to be moderately successful if I carried no weight (camera gear), so off I went
with only one camera and my 18-70mm lens. After what seemed like peddling forever I stopped and hiked up to a high
dune to get my bearings. To my dismay I was not very far at all from the station. As I rested, a small family
group appeared over the next dune and looked like they might head for the beach. I slowly backed out of the way
and allowed them to pass, then closed in behind them to follow. Two thoughts occurred, one: HORSES on the BEACH!!!
and two: keep away from my bicycle! Horses have an intense curiosity about anything new an I had visions of a
horse with its foot through my spokes. Luckily there interest lay more on the new items that appeared on the
tideline. As I started taking images a bad scraping sound came from my lens. The dreaded sand! My 18-70mm now
appeared to be a 50-70mm and I would have to make do. The mare, stallion and foal were sniffing amongst the
detritus on the beach and between all the junk and several seal skeletons they found a patch of seaweed.
This
proved to be a delicacy full of protein but not so easy to eat. They toyed with the long ropes of kelp, sometimes
two pulling at opposite ends. It was another amazing display of how these animals adapt to their environment.
When it was time to head back I took the bike and carted it over the sand dunes to the south side of the island,
with hopes of returning home via the shore of Lake Wallace. As I reached the southern most dune I looked out to
where the lake should be and saw nothing but puddles! Where yesterday a the flood plain was covered it was now
almost dry! A small family group, walking in single file like a caravan passed by me as I looked down from a high
dune. I tried riding along the lake bottom and soon realized it was impossible. So, carting the bike back to
north shore I headed back to home base, exhausted. |
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April, 2010
Today was another rainy day of flat light and extreme winds. Content to stay in for a while and
sort out images, I worked at the kitchen table, checking out the window constantly for a break in the weather. My
legs were like rubber from yesterday's unaccustomed pedalling and while I felt somewhat guilty for staying inside,
I had to recharge physically to be effective in the field. My friend, Ali, took off to brave the elements. It was
not until mid-afternoon Ali arrived back to report that 'there were just no horses out there". But the sky was
beginning to change so I decided to go for a short walk up the north ridge, travelling light and trying out my new
waist waders and overboots which had been recently purchased for my summer Alaska trip. I took only my newly
converted colour infrared camera, knowing that the lighting conditions were not likely to produce stellar images.
As I crested the north dunes, my usual first vantage point, I discovered Beachcomber and part of his band tucked
between dunes, not 10 minutes from the station. He was resting with a bay mare and a pair of two year olds that
clearly bore the genetic stamp of his chestnut colour and white blaze. The horses that live near the station are
very accustomed to people so they took little notice of me as I clambered around them, mostly on my knees trying
for different angles to make a creative shot. The sun poked out for a few minutes and I did my best to make the
most of it. Convinced that I had covered every angle, I started to walk away. As soon as I was out of the 'zone'
Beachcomber squealed, reared and leaped on top of the bay mare's back. It was not a mating attempt but a clear
display of ownership. Shocked by the sudden flurry of activity I jumped clear of the action and then spun around to
get the shot. After congratulating myself at my composure, the thought occurred to me that I had been too
complacent and had crossed the line of safety. I had mistaken the stallion's disinterest in me as trust, when in
fact he had barely tolerated my presence. I pride myself in being an astute judge of horse body language and this
was a prime example that wild horses react differently than domestic ones. Lesson learned. |
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April 19, 2010
The extreme weather of the last two days had trashed the runway sites on the south beach. First the flooding then
the drifting sand had left supervisor Gerry with a mountain of work to repair. I caught an early morning ride with
him while he examined the damage and he explained that sometimes the runways last for a month or more, sometimes
barely a day. The work he had done yesterday was already destroyed. Secretly I hoped that no runway could be
recovered for some time, but that was wishful thinking. |
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Gerry dropped me off seven miles out from home base promising to be back in the area by early afternoon. I left him
one of my two way radios and turned for Bald Dune. It was raining lightly as I watched him drive away. I pondered
about how lucky I had been in the past with the great weather I had enjoyed on all of my wilderness shoots. It was
about time that I learned how to cope with some miserable conditions. I was wearing my waders and had placed a
rain cover over my backpack and camera gear. My 18-70mm lens had recovered for the time being but I was determined
not to damage any more equipment. One of the resident technicians, whose hobby is photography, told me that he had
wrecked $4000 in camera gear this winter due to blowing sand and 'precipitation that arrives horizontally'. I
adjusted my tripod and zoom lens over my shoulder and started the trek up towards the highest dune. |
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It felt 'right' to have to experience adverse conditions on Sable. I imagined what it was like for the horses who
survived through hardships much more severe than anything I would volunteer to be exposed to. As I made my way up
to the high dune the winds became stronger, buffeting me about like a drunken sailor. Along with the wind came
vast amounts of sand, abrading everything in its path. Spa day on Sable - derm abrasion no charge. |
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- Photo Credit: Ali Darvish -
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Gerry told me that in the past when families were allowed to live at the station, they would collect glass floats
and bottles from the beach. Then, taking masking tape, they would cover parts of the glass, leave some exposed and
then place the objects out on the north beach for sandblasting. It became quite an art form. It occurred to me
that the old time settlers of Sable Island must have been an amazing brand of adventurer.
After staggering to the top of the dune, I placed my tripod and camera on the peak to set up for a 360 degree
panorama shot. I struggled with my gloves and the plastic rain cover and instantly, as if taken by a giant
vacuum, my rain protector flew through the air and off to the valley below. I did not for an instant think about
recovering it but rather pondered who might find it one day... and then took my shots. |
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Walking on the lee of the south dunes I heard the familiar squeal of horses interacting. I hurried over the dunes
towards the sound and discovered two horses. A young stallion, fat and in his prime stood in the middle of the dry
maram grass. Behind him on the beach stood another stallion and I went to him. It is difficult to describe what I
saw. This horse at one time must have been magnificent. He was tall and dark brown with a beautiful eye. But he
was the thinnest horse I had ever seen standing. He had lost all his muscle mass and his hips and ribs could not
be disguised by his long winter coat and flowing mane. His walk was weak and he measured his steps, nibbling at
little bits of grass through the sand. I wondered about his relationship to the other stallion. Bachelors, father
and son, a guardian? At first I thought it was too sad to photograph. Then I considered that someone should
remember this horse, and that if I took his picture, he would somehow live on. His eye and his expression were
still full of life, but his body was slowing disintegrating. I could not tell if he would live
much longer but he had made it through a brutal winter and I hoped that the spring and summer would be kind to him.
We talked for a while, I wished him well and continued on. |
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By mid afternoon the light had not improved, so I radioed Gerry and he made a detour from runway duty to transport
me home. We drove back along the southern shore, huge waves crashing against the steep beach, hundreds of grey
seals dashing into the water at the sound of the vehicle. We paused and he allowed me to photograph an old wooden
mast with metal fittings, the remains of a long ago shipwreck, laying stubbornly in the way of the blowing sand.
Since the advent of modern navigation there had only been a handful of ships lost to the 'Graveyard of the
Atlantic'. There had not been a wreck of any significance in nearly 70 years. Before that upwards of 300. While
most of the metal ships that wrecked near Sable were towed back to Halifax and salvaged, the old wooden vessels
broke up and were lost. Occasionally the sea would toss forth a remnant of those days and leave it on the beach as
if to remind us of other times and the lives lost.
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- Photo Credit: Debra Garside -
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- Photo Credit: Ali Darvish - |
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Afterword:
During this expedition Debra captured over 10,000 images on Sable Island. She has selected the top 25 images which will be revealed for the first time at the Okotoks Art Gallery. You are invited to the opening reception Wednesday June 30 7-9pm, 2010. The exhibit will continue until September 6, 2010. |
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