My Baba, Polly, only went to school for three years. When her younger sister was born, it was expected that she stay home to look after her younger siblings. Without even a complete elementary school education, finding work could be difficult, but as a young woman Polly did many jobs that allowed her a degree of independence.

When she was fifteen, Polly went to Grand Forks where she worked for her Uncle and Aunt, picking apples and later working as a potato digger. She used this money to buy herself clothes. Although this was hard physical work, she recognized that many other women were not able to work and buy things for themselves with their own money. She also would look after children or did sewing work to supplement her income.

Grand Forks is right on the border of the US and Canada and at the time, this was simply a barbed wire fence. Polly would often order material from the US, cross the border to pick up her package and then throw it over the fence to her waiting Uncle. When she would arrive at Canadian Customs, she would have nothing to declare. She often ordered materials for sewing, and made things such as purple satin pillows with pink bows.

Many Doukhobor men went to Saskatchewan to work in the wheat fields on the prairies. My grandfather Pete tried this work, but it was tough, making his hands bleed, and he was small and undernourished. The work was more than he could handle at his young age, and he ran away, making his way back to the Kootenays on his own. Pete also worked in the Okanagan, pruning and spraying fruit trees in the many orchards that line the valleys there, and in the Doukhobor-run jam factory in Brilliant.

The topic of the dunes had come up before at the Cabin. The idea, however,  of leaving behind the prime reclining territory of the lakeside dock proved too arduous and so the first ever Cabin field trip didn’t happen until this summer.

Leaving the Cabin, we drove through Williams Lake, heading west through town and then winding up onto the Chilcotin Plateau, a vast expanse of flat land seemingly perched in the mountains. A turn onto a dirt road sent us through fields and finally, down into Farwell Canyon.

The Canyon was strangely compact for the amount of geological features crammed into it. Behind us stretched large rolling hills, draped with coniferous woods. Before us was the pale green Chilcotin River, winding serpentine beneath a looming wall of hoodoos, sand towers intricately carved by wind and erosion. An immense sand dune clung to the hillside right of the hoodoos, formed by the wind blowing through the canyon walls and escaping over the hill, bringing with it silt and sand.

We walked down to the river, where a crumbling homestead rested in a field of yellow grass and flowers. We wandered in and out of the old structure. chasing grasshoppers and peering into darkened tunnels. These buildings were home to Gordon “Mike” Farwell, who lived here in the early 1900s, naming it Pothole Ranch.

We climbed out of the valley and up the side of the hill, soon reaching the fine sand of the dune. Pulling off our shoes and sinking our toes in felt wonderful– the sand was silky and clean. Soon we were running up and down the dune, laughing in disbelief at the incredible sight of the river and hoodoos before us. From the west came a great bank of dark clouds and soon the wind was whipping up the slope, the canyon crackling with the energy of the storm. It was a surreal moment, perched on the enormous dune over such a view, unlike nothing I’ve felt before. We lingered for a short while longer, taking it all in, then the sting of sand and wind became too much and with great amusement, we tumbled back down the dune to safety.

Yesterday I sold my Canon G10. It was a great camera but I only had it for a short while before I finally had the guts to put up the cash for a DSLR. I thought I might use the G10 as an on the go camera (“I’ll just slip it in my bag!”) but that never happened and the poor little G10 sat around unused.

I took the G10 on one of my favourite trips ever, when I went to visit James and Alana when they were living in Paris. That scrappy camera took some wonderful photos and in honour of its short time with me, I’d like to share some of the lovely memories it helped create.

My parents were in Paris at the same time, they had a lovely little apartment near Rue Mouffetard, where we bought food from all sorts of small shops and made wonderful meals. The apartment was reached via a seemingly never ending twist of stairs, but they sure looked cute once you got to the top. Renting Velibe bikes was one of my favourite things we did, especially when we did a night ride, touring all over the city, stopping only for wine and photo opportunities.

I’m a museum and art gallery junkie so of course I spent a day in the Louvre. Oh, my aching feet afterwards! So many wonderful portraits (my favourite thing to see, I love that little glimpse into a face of the past) and the amusingingly ridiculous crush around the Mona Lisa. I took plenty of self portraits “so the people will know I was here“.

A pool of rainbow light reflected through stained glass at a church just around the corner from Sacre Couer. My signature street, “A Naked Rachel”, as seen on a James-led tour of Montmartre– maybe I’m eating a falafel in this picture from L’as du Falafel, a Lenny Kravitz-endorsed eatery. Empty hallways at Versailles. The infamous rocker Johnny Hallyday, oooh, how we loved him! C’est hyper-cool.

Number one favourite memory was drinking wine on the roof of a building on Rue Mouffetard, with James and Alana’s old neighbours, Pim and Manu. Dusk was settling, the crooked rooftops crowded around us and looming above, the illuminated bell tower of St.-Médard, riddled with bullet holes circa World War II. Manu had spray painted UFO on the roof in case ET happened to be passing by overhead.

Inspired by what we had seen, we tried out “Marie Antoinette hair” with Alana’s thick, curly locks. We made a pact to try a pastry every day, impulsively dragging James into shops and agonizing over what treat to choose. We went window shopping (my fanciest purchase was a novelty lighter from Colette) but still loved wandering through H&M (pronounced Ash et Em of course) to listen to teenagers exclaim “C’est supair-class!” over headbands and cheap jewelry. One day I walked from Notre Dame to the Eiffel Tower, mangling my poor feet in the process, but slipped through the Jardin de Luxembourg, where I saw fashion shoots and, of course, documented my presence there with a shoot of my own.

Thanks for the memories, G10! I will miss you ♥

Some photos of Brooke, Leslie and Rupert at the Atrium in Victoria. Jordan very nicely got me a 50mm lens for Christmas and this was a little practice session. It’s weird using it. I’ve been a lazy photographer and pretty much only used one lens since I bought my camera.

If anyone in Victoria wants their pictures taken (families, couples or even just one person portraits), let me know. I’d love to get some more experience.

Since I’ve been living in Vancouver for the last year, Jordan’s apartment has taken on a bit of a bachelor vibe. For the record, I am a genuine fan of the black velvet beauty.

The landscape en route to Monument Valley was endlessly fascinating. Red and pink rock stretched in all directions from the road, with massive rock towers rising in fat turrets on the horizon, then looming over us as we passed. We were racing the sun, hoping to make it to the three “mittens” before night fell.

There was some confusion. For a good stretch of road, each rock tower seemed more magnificent than the last, and we couldn’t resist stopping to take photographs. Then we’d notice the long shadows and the creeping sun and we’d run back to the car in a panic.

When we finally reached the mittens, it was a moment of awakening. This otherworldly landscape was our destination. We had driven for hours and now Monument Valley stretched before us, glowing with the last warm light of the sun. Though the light faded quickly, the day still felt like a marvelous success.

We returned to the valley at night and purposely rose just before dawn hoping to take some sunrise photos. Of course, we hadn’t taken into consideration that the sun rose directly behind the mittens, resulting in a series of dramatic but eye searing photos.

Here’s a travel tip for you: don’t camp at Gouldings. It’s a gravel parking lot that may or may not be full of 50 French teenagers on a cross-America summer trip sitting in each other’s laps and smoking cigarettes. I had a hard time deciphering where exactly it was okay to camp and we ended up at this charmless spot.

Since it was dark when we left the mittens, we didn’t notice tents set up right near the parking lot (yes, in this incredible landscape, there is a parking lot behind the photographer– same thing with the Grand Canyon). If you’re ever camping in Monument Valley, make sure to ask at the hotel about this area. I think it’s super cheap and the mittens are right outside your tent!

Or, if you’re not leaving at dusk, just north of the mittens (maybe 20-30 minutes) is the incredible Gooseneck State Park. There’s not much here but, oh, this jaw-dropping view, and you can camp FOR FREE and wake up to THIS. I thought this was off somewhere on an unmarked dirt path, but there’s clear signage on the main road. Also near here is the Comb Ridge Cafe, which serves the most delicious blue corn pancakes.

Best mistake we made on the trip? Accidentally taking the route through Moab on our way to the Salt Flats. The scenery was even more bizarre and, coupled with a few hours of This American Life and Radiolab, made for a consistently interesting drive. Plus, ROCK ARCHES!!

Knowing we had a full day of driving ahead of us if we wanted to make Monument Valley for sunset (Golden Hour, y’all), Jordan and I left Joshua Tree early. As we drove further inland, through cartoon sky country, we realised we would be passing irresistibly close to the Grand Canyon and decided to pay a visit to one of America’s greatest natural treasures. It was on this day in 1908 that President Theodore Roosevelt desginated the Grand Canyon as a National Monument.

The scale of the Grand Canyon is so massive that it sort of makes your gut drop when first glimpsed. Endless rock stretched off into the horizon, its unreal size giving it a hypnotic quality. I felt frustrated trying to photograph it. How could I possibly do it justice?

The Grand Canyon is popular. The amount of people at the largest viewpoint was so distracting, especially for a people watcher like me. We weren’t even there during the busiest season– at peak tourist time, line ups just to enter the park surrounding the canyon can be up to two hours.

So Jordan and I kept our visit to the Grand Canyon brief and hit the road. Just outside of the park, however, we stopped at a Navajo jewelry stand. A rough, hand painted sign indicated a “scenic view” a short walk from the wooden frames shading trays of silver rings and bracelets. At the end of a dirt road, around a mild bend, a massive chasm opened in the earth. Jordan and I stopped, transfixed, and stared into its primaeval depths. No one else was around.

Vancouver has settled into a typical west coast winter, consisting of daily downpours, dark afternoons and a damp chill that gets right into your bones. These summer road trip photos from my Baba’s albums brought some respite into another cloudy day. Picnics with watermelon, roadside breaks (viewpoints!), beers with friends, cabins amongst pine trees, driving to secret spots and even seeing some wildlife– sounds about perfect right now.

Today we went to Finn Slough in Richmond. Finn Slough was established by Finnish fishermen in the late 1800s, and for generations was a fishing village. The rugged and isolated life on the south arm on the Fraser River was made worthwhile by the abundance of salmon in the area and the close proximity to the canneries of Steveston.

Now Finn Slough serves as a reminder of a lifestyle that is rapidly fading– only a few still cling to riverside living. All is slick and wet with a heavy damp and the wetlands creep in to reclaim bridges and rotting homes.