A small photographic retrospective of the Long Weekend. They say time flies when you're having fun, but I find it almost stands still. And so it did this weekend in what turned out to be the longest weekend in recent memory. I took three separate trips to the island on two different boats. Good times were had. Pictured below is the view from the wall over on Hanlan's Point looking back toward the city. I was standing on two of three boats rafted together.
Watching the annual airshow from the beach, the dogs were forced to sit under an occupied beach chair for shade. And they had to *gasp* touch. The strung out half asleep dog doesn't seem too bothered. We were front and centre for the airshow with jets flying at dangerously low and deafening altitudes over the beach. While out for a swim, the lifeguard rowed over to say we couldn't go past a certain point because we would be in the 'crash zone.' But I had to wonder if an extra 30 feet would really make such a difference if a jet hit the water or the sand. And isn't defying all the laws of gravity, physics and common sense half the fun of an airshow?
Nothing beats a reflective Husky surveying the city on the way back from the island Monday night. We had some city slickers onboard for the third and final trip to the island. They wandered off the beach to seek shade because they were wearing jeans, motorcycle boots and other non beach attire in temps of 30 degrees. When we couldn't find them, I suggested maybe they were reading a wilderness survival guide over in the bushes. My friend quipped, "Yeah, it's called 'How to Survive a Day on the Beach.'"
Watching the annual airshow from the beach, the dogs were forced to sit under an occupied beach chair for shade. And they had to *gasp* touch. The strung out half asleep dog doesn't seem too bothered. We were front and centre for the airshow with jets flying at dangerously low and deafening altitudes over the beach. While out for a swim, the lifeguard rowed over to say we couldn't go past a certain point because we would be in the 'crash zone.' But I had to wonder if an extra 30 feet would really make such a difference if a jet hit the water or the sand. And isn't defying all the laws of gravity, physics and common sense half the fun of an airshow?
Nothing beats a reflective Husky surveying the city on the way back from the island Monday night. We had some city slickers onboard for the third and final trip to the island. They wandered off the beach to seek shade because they were wearing jeans, motorcycle boots and other non beach attire in temps of 30 degrees. When we couldn't find them, I suggested maybe they were reading a wilderness survival guide over in the bushes. My friend quipped, "Yeah, it's called 'How to Survive a Day on the Beach.'"
