My Second Running Life

The Longview Photo Run

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Longview: A Short History

For as long as I’ve been in Calgary, the Village of Longview has been my idea of what makes Alberta special. It’s a quiet village in an idyllic setting. The views of the foothills to the west are spectacular, and that’s because Longview sits just outside Kananaskis Country. Highway 22 (the Cowboy Trail) is the town’s main street. I’ve often told Deb that I want to move to a ranch in Longview, although I wouldn’t have a clue what to do once I actually got there. No matter.

I learned about Longview’s fascinating history when I did my research for this piece. The village is named for brothers Thomas and Oliver Long, who homesteaded in the area at the beginning of the 20th century. Given its location, Longview has a long connection with farming and ranching. When oil was discovered in nearby Turner Valley in the late 1930s, Longview boomed—so much so that it earned the nickname Little New York. Of course, booms tend to go bust, and that’s what happened a few years later. For most of the last 60 years, the village’s population has been around 300.

One of Longview’s claims to fame is that the annual Kananaskis 100 Mile Relay starts there, early on a Saturday morning in late June, just after the Highwood Pass opens up. There are some fond memories there, I can tell you! I wrote about the race earlier this year—check it out here.

And if anyone needs another reason to visit Longview, here’s one: Flic Film is a business that caters to those of us who can’t quite give up film photography. I used to have a convenient option for film development near my house, until “my guy”—that was Paul Stack—wrapped up his business and retired to Nova Scotia. I’ve been wondering what to do with my film since then, so I was thrilled to learn about Flic Film. I met Dalton on my visit to Longview, and left him with my order.

Feeling slightly nostalgic, here’s a contact sheet, which (if you’ve never seen one) is a handy way to identify any “keepers” on a roll of film. There’s something real about flipping through a binder of negatives.

A Short Jog Through the Village

Since I knew I’d be back to pick up my negatives, I decided to add a short photo run through the village on my return visit. I already knew there would be a lot of interesting material along the main street (Morrison Street), like the iconic Twin Cities Hotel. When I’m faced with that situation on a photo run, I try to get a few kilometres under my belt so I’m not starting and stopping too much.

Here’s my running route, courtesy of Garmin:

I did end up with a few worthwhile images, carrying the venerable (but now discontinued) Ricoh GR III. I learned a lesson, though. At this time of year, the sun sets quickly. If you see it, shoot it, because it might not be there a few minutes later!

Enjoy these images (copyright is mine):

After an out-and-back run to the Highwood River at the south end of the village, including a decent hill, I headed out on Highway 541 towards K-Country. I was thinking about some of my past adventures on the relay. Running the first couple of kilometres was great, and being able to turn around was even better. Here’s a selfie, where I did my best imitation of the pump jack in the background.

Heading for Home

After I got home and started putting this piece together, I read about a bit of Alberta history that I was completely unaware of. A few kilometres north of Longview is a historic site marker, which I have driven by and wondered about, since there doesn’t seem to actually be anything there.

Well, it turns out to be a commemorative plaque and display for Little Chicago. Apparently, the boom that fueled growth in Longview led to another town springing up, just up the road. That’s where the Twin Cities Hotel got its name. The name Little Chicago was changed to Royalties, as it caused confusion with, you know, that other Chicago. At the peak in the late 1930s, the population of the two towns was about 3,200. As things turned sour economically, all traces of Little Chicago disappeared, except for the plaque that tells the story. I’ll definitely stop for a look—and a photo—on my next film drop.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Urban Sustainability? Hardly!

We live in interesting times in Calgary. I’ve formed strong opinions about what I see happening in my city. For many reasons, I think we’re on the wrong track. From what I’ve seen recently in other large Canadian cities, the same things are happening there, too.

One of the first pieces I wrote for this blog was on the topic of sustainability. You can find it here. My focus then was on objects that are perfectly designed for their intended purpose. They are sustainable, in that they can be expected to work perfectly for a lifetime (or longer) if properly maintained.

As I walk around inner-city neighbourhoods in Calgary, I’m bothered by a pattern that I see being repeated over and over again. Homes that have stood for decades are being levelled and replaced by one of two things: large, contemporary boxes or large, multi-family boxes. And it’s not just homes. Commercial buildings are being torn down and replaced by high-rise residential towers full of small (you guessed it) boxes.

Boxes, boxes and more boxes…

Why is this happening? Well, it is now presented as common knowledge that housing is a critical problem in Calgary. City administration has prepared or commissioned studies to explain the situation and how dire it is. I’ve read their material, and I’m willing to admit that I don’t know. I’m not an urban planner or a sociologist. Maybe it’s a crisis, or maybe it isn’t.

What I do know is that if I exercise my right to ask questions or comment on proposed developments that directly affect me, by writing letters to my councillor and city planners, the usual response consists of boilerplate talking points about housing supply and affordability challenges. I used to write such letters, but I don’t do so anymore. When a response starts with the words “because we are in a housing crisis…“, then it will include justification for all sorts of irrational actions.

As I said, I have many problems with this trend, but let me come back to that word, sustainability. I define sustainability as encompassing the social, environmental and economic aspects of a project. In my view, nothing in the current teardown and build cycle is sustainable. I’ve noticed that the experts who tout densification and the bureaucrats who facilitate it—the same people who are quick to extol its benefits—tend to be silent on this point. This isn’t an oversight; it’s because the facts don’t fit their narrative.

How about an illustration?

Yesterday, I walked by a row of three post-war houses. All were small, neat and well-kept. They have been standing for decades, so we know they have survived many brutal Calgary winters. The owners of these homes have replaced roofs, tended lawns, and done the hundreds of other routine tasks needed to keep them functioning. They have put their personal touches on them. These houses are not flashy, large, or modern, but they definitely are sustainable. On the evidence, these are the type of structures that stand in the way of solutions to our housing problem.

The impediments to solving our housing crisis… really?

Let’s contrast this scene with another, where a transition has already occurred. The houses that used to stand in this location were like the ones pictured above. They have been replaced by multiple, multi-family dwellings; in this case, four fourplexes.

To get to this point, three houses were demolished and carted to the landfill. I estimate this would have generated 400 cubic metres (200 tonnes) of waste. That’s without consideration of the concrete foundations, which represent more waste to the landfill, and heavy waste at that.

Pouring new foundations generates significant GHG emissions, because cement manufacturing is one of the most GHG-intensive industries. Of course, there will be a continuous stream of waste while construction is in progress. And our lush urban tree canopy? Gone.

What are the main development scenarios for inner city locations?

If we see a custom contemporary house going up, it’s usually large and built to serve the needs of a couple or a small family. In other words, there will be a lot of space dedicated to a few people. Don’t get me wrong. This is a free country, and people can build to their own taste and budget. But on a full lifecycle basis, it’s hardly sustainable.

If it’s a multi-family dwelling, it’s almost certainly going to be built by a developer who will target the minimum building standards. There will be pressed board exterior walls, thin insulation and interior walls, plastic pipe and cheap finishings. Unlike the post-war houses pictured above, nothing built today will last. We can be sure of two more things: the developer will realize a healthy margin, and the finished units will not be affordable.

What about commercial properties? To round out my review, I checked the progress on the long-planned demolition of the Jimmie Condon Building at the corner of 17th Avenue and 14th Street. Some would say the building is (sorry, was) historic, and others would say its pagoda-style roofline was an eyesore. Either way, if a picture is worth a thousand words, then this one is a mouthful.

We hear a lot these days about the need to build more “climate resilient” infrastructure. In response, I’ll note that I’ve seen plenty of buildings shrouded in tarps a few years after construction, presumably to repair deficiencies in exterior construction or incorrect materials. That is neither resilient nor sustainable.

I’ll leave for another day related questions—like whether multi-family dwellings (or high-rise towers) will solve the apparent housing crisis that led to their construction in the first place. Or who ultimately pays for luxury condo units that sit on the market unsold, or peddled as short-term rentals. Or whether we should be replacing our city’s already small inventory of historic buildings with characterless, cheaply-built boxes.

To conclude, there’s a saying that a good crisis should never be wasted. I think our municipal government and administration are doing just that with their housing crisis. Their logic is simple: the more housing units that are built, the more tax revenue will be generated. So inner city buildings are being demolished at a rapid pace, with no consideration of what makes our neighbourhoods unique or desirable.

This is a trend that’s hard to justify if one is thinking sustainably. We’re targeting one objective—increasing the supply of housing units—at all costs. In this context, “at all costs” means neglecting environmental stewardship and economic sensibility.

Fortunately, the market has a way of correcting irrational behaviour. I hope we will soon see evidence that a much-needed correction is underway.

Luck of the (Nearly) Irish

When a window of opportunity opened for us in early October, Deborah proposed and then arranged a short trip to Ireland. We had been to the Emerald Isle once before, about 20 years ago, for a driving tour of the Ring of Kerry. This time, our plan was to stay mainly in Dublin and take a short side trip to Belfast. It was an enjoyable week.

The Sights of Dublin

With hotel spaces in high demand, we grabbed a same-day reservation at the Leinster Hotel. It’s a comfortable, new boutique hotel in Merrion Square, and a great location for exploring the city on foot. That’s what we did, as Dublin is a very walkable city.

A highlight of our previous trip was a visit to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells and the library at the Long Room. We made sure to visit again, as the college was only a kilometre from the hotel. The library is being extensively renovated, but even with most of the books removed, it’s an impressive building. Watching a video about the project, I wondered how often these ancient books are actually touched by human hands.

This being Ireland, there was some rain to contend with. In fact, we got caught twice on the same day, and each time we were treated to Irish hospitality. Ducking into a shop for shelter, we found ourselves in a most unusual place. It was Sweny’s Pharmacy, a shop dedicated to local legend James Joyce, and his masterpiece, Ulysses. The proprietor (PJ Murphy) treated us to a Gaelic song, offered us a glass of wine, and invited us to that evening’s reading from the novel—in French! He added that he has personally read the book in at least eight languages. We noticed that the rain was letting up, so we made our excuses and moved on. I was reminded that I have yet to finish my longstanding project of getting through Ulysses for the first time, and only in English. I made a note to give it another try once I was back home.

It’s likely not the first thing visitors to Dublin would consider, but we made a trek by city bus to an important place in the history of Ireland, the Kilmainham Gaol Museum. The jail, which opened in 1796, has held thousands of common criminals, as well as political prisoners involved in the struggle for Ireland’s independence. Fourteen leaders of the 1916 Easter Rising were executed by firing squad in the prison yard.

Although the day’s tours were all booked, we took our chances and scored a pair of free tickets—luck of the Irish, perhaps.

The tour was informative, and our guide was passionate about both the jail and Irish history more generally.

While we waited for our tour, we had a pleasant lunch and chat at the nearby Old Royal Oak pub.

Dublin is an amazing place for street photography, and I did my best to capture some scenes. My muse may have also been on vacation, as I seemed to struggle to find worthy photos on this trip. Well, we do what we can! Copyright for all photos is mine.

We decided not to do the popular Guinness Storehouse brewery tour, because we took the tour on our first visit to Dublin. Besides, we had just finished watching the excellent Netflix series, House of Guinness. I settled for drinking my share of the black stuff while in town—just enough to confirm that it really does taste better in its home city than anywhere else.

Other highlights of our time in Dublin were a visit to the Glasnevin Cemetery, some window shopping in Grafton Street, a visit to the impressive National Gallery, and a stroll through bucolic St. Stephen’s Green. On our last day, I fit in a short photo run through pretty Santry Park.

Overall, it was a fine stay in Ireland’s capital city. Sláinte!

North to Belfast

We took advantage of convenient train connections to make a short dash up to Belfast, the capital city of Northern Ireland. The city centre has a very different character to Dublin, not surprising given its historical connection to the United Kingdom. Like Dublin, getting around on foot is the best way to see the city. We stayed two blocks from City Hall, an imposing Victorian building.

We only began to appreciate the historical significance of Belfast when we took in The Titanic Experience. Part museum and part theme park, we thoroughly enjoyed the two hours it took to work our way through the exhibits. We learned about the socioeconomic impact of shipbuilding on the city: a linen industry which accounted for 75,000 jobs in the early 20th century; and shipyards that employed 15,000 men in all aspects of design and construction of the largest ocean liners that had ever been constructed.

Of course, Titanic is famous for another, more tragic reason—its collision with an iceberg and sinking on its maiden voyage. The exhibits do justice to the whole story, including the discovery of the wreck in the 1980s. For me, walking the length of the ship’s outline, just outside the building, really brought home the sense of immediacy with another part of Belfast’s history.

The next day, we signed up for a coach tour of the coastal region. Over seven hours, our tour guide and driver, Steve, did a wonderful job of explaining the complicated history of Northern Ireland, while pointing out the many sights of the region.

The main attraction for us was the Giant’s Causeway, a unique geological formation and UNESCO site on Ireland’s northern coastline. The Causeway consists of thousands of hexagonal pillars of basalt, which extend out into the ocean. A folk legend says that Fionn McCool, an Irish giant, built the causeway by throwing boulders into the sea. McCool wanted to make a bridge that would reach the Scottish Isle of Staffa, where he could challenge a rival giant, Benandonner, who had made a claim for Fionn’s island (Ireland). You can read the full story and find out what happened to Fionn here.

The scientific explanation is that the causeway resulted from a volcanic explosion about 60 million years ago. As the lava cooled quickly, it cracked into the distinctive pattern of interconnected basalt columns. These two explanations can exist side-by-side, because this is Ireland, after all. However it came to be, the formation is unlike anything else we have seen.

We had no idea that the popular HBO series Game of Thrones had been such a boon to the regional economy. In fact, we were the only people on our coach who had never watched the series. Nevertheless, we enjoyed the pop culture lesson as we checked out many of the shooting locales.

The most recognizable locale is probably the Dark Hedges, a long avenue lined with ancient beech trees, which create a distinctly medieval atmosphere. We enjoyed strolling the length of the avenue as our last stop before returning to Belfast city centre.

Let me share a few pictures from our short but impactful time in Northern Ireland. We’re very glad we decided to visit.

Final Thoughts

Ireland (the whole island) is an easy place to visit, and even better, to enjoy. We’ve found the locals to be welcoming, patient and engaging. We had fond memories of our first visit, so we were keen to return. The main cities, Dublin and Belfast, have very different histories, and that is reflected in the way each city feels as you explore on foot. In a few words, Dublin feels more intimate, warm and friendly. Belfast is more serious and stately. And perhaps due to a couple of peaceful decades, there is also a strong positive vibe in the city.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

An Ansel Adams Inspired Photo Run

Knowing that Weaselhead Park would be in its full autumn splendour this week, I decided to do a short photo run starting in North Glenmore Park.

Here’s the Strava record of my out-and-back route through the Weaselhead Flats. It’s a beautiful place to run at any time, but especially at this time of year.

I recently had an idea for a new series, highlighting my favourite photographers. As I trudged up the hill at the far corner of Weaselhead, where the path heads into a pleasant birch forest, I realized I had my first subject: Ansel Adams. Adams is a good choice, given that he was the first photographer who came to my attention after I purchased a film camera as a teenager. I’ve admired his photographs for years. And when I saw the white trunks of the birch trees, two specific images popped into my head.

But first, let me introduce Adams.

Ansel Adams: Photography Legend

Ansel Adams (1902-1984) was an American photographer and environmentalist. As a young man, he showed talent as a pianist. However, he decided to pursue his early interest in photography, even though at the time that was hardly a sure career path.

Adams is best known for dramatic black and white landscape images, many of which were shot on large glass plate negatives. He also developed innovative and disciplined approaches to capturing and printing images. He formalized the use of the Zone System, which allows the photographer to realize what they saw in the scene, based on analysis of the tonal ranges in the image.

Given the sheer number of Adams’ iconic images, it would be difficult to settle on my personal favourite. I’ve always admired his Clearing Winter Storm (1944) and Monolith, The Face of Half Dome (1927). His photograph of Denali—Mount McKinley and Wonder Lake (1944)—is brilliant. These images matter because they illustrate Adams’ deep commitment to preserving some of the great natural places in the U.S.

Even though they aren’t what he is best remembered for, Adams’ portraits are remarkable, too. His candid shot of Georgia O’Keeffe and Orville Cox (1937)—shot with a 35mm camera—may be my favourite of all his images. So, regardless of which image we look at, it’s easy to see why Adams is regarded as one of the greatest American photographers.

Aspens, Northern New Mexico (1958)

There’s a book by Adams that I’ve turned to dozens of times for inspiration. It’s called Examples: The Making of 40 Photographs. Adams takes the reader on journeys that culminate in the images in his book. He sets the scene, explains the equipment he used, and the process of creating the final print. It’s far more than a how-to manual. What I appreciate most about the book is Adams’ honesty. Many times, he admits to making errors in his camera settings or finds he’s created challenges for himself in achieving the result he wants. These are refreshing admissions by a person we may think of as being infallible.

Two images in Examples are relevant to this piece. Aspens, Northern New Mexico (1958) is a pair of complementary photographs, one vertical and the other horizontal. Adams shot them with an 8″x10” camera using a yellow filter, which would have lightened its own colour (yellow) and darkened its opposite colour (blue). He typically printed the images in very large format, up to 30″x40″. Adams describes these as “quite satisfying statements”, “cool and aloof and rather stately”. I’ll say! He also writes that they are good expressions of his philosophical approach to photography, in that he was able to express what he saw and felt in the scene.

And so, today in Weaselhead

At the risk of embarrassing myself—-we can agree that Adams is a tough act to follow—-let me turn to my own attempt to capture what I saw and felt on today’s Weaselhead photo run. It was a similar day to what Adams described for his Aspens: a crisp autumn day. The birch forest was in full fall colours. Even better, the sun was trying to make an appearance after a short rain shower. There was no wind. In other words, the prospects were good. As usual, I had my Ricoh GR III in hand—no 8″x10” cameras here.

I could see what Adams had to deal with, given all the colours of autumn: reds, yellows, purples, greens. A colour photograph would certainly have impact, but my worry was that it would end up being an incoherent riot of colour. Because digital photography gives us some huge advantages over Ansel and his glass negatives, I’m able to let my readers decide for themselves.

I’ll start with a vertical shot. I did some masking in Lightroom to bring out the trees at the front of the image and give some separation against the busy background. Using Lightroom’s simulated filters, I boosted the yellow channel to brighten the leaves. As is often the case, I prefer the black and white version.

Weaselhead Birch Forest – Vertical (Sept 30, 2025) (Copyright: Steven Kelly)

Moving on, I looked for a scene that might work in horizontal format. My idea was to have some prominent leaves in the picture, as on the left side of Adams’ image. I found a grove with a dense grouping of trees and a splash of green on the left of the frame. I don’t think this was the perfect example, but you know, I was in the middle of my run. I snapped my shot and carried on. Later, I darkened the left edge and the foreground to accentuate the trees that were in sunlight. Again, I prefer the monochrome version, but I’d like to hear from any readers who have an opinion.

Weaselhead Birch Forest – Horizontal (Sept 30, 2025) (Copyright: Steven Kelly)

Wrapping Up

My photo run was short but productive. I headed to this spot because I hadn’t been there for a while, and I wanted to see the fall colours. Once I got to the birch forest on the south side of the reservoir, Ansel Adams’ iconic images popped into my head. It encouraged me to slow my pace and look around. And what I found was well worth the effort. I may even try to get back there with a film camera and tripod—and without my running shoes!

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Off Track: A Eulogy of Sorts for GAP 1.0

So that’s it. The end of an era. The south end of the original Glenmore Athletic Park (GAP) track—I call it GAP 1.0—is gone. Torn up.

I know the guys in the excavators are just doing their job, but it was hard to watch them pulling up the tattered red surface. The sign posted on the fence helpfully explains that the work is for the installation of a natural gas line to serve the new Glenmore Twin Arena that is being constructed nearby. According to the City website, the south end of the track will become a parking lot. Of course, another parking lot.

I have countless memories of the old circuit. It’s been the site of race finishes (like the Stampede Road Race), club events like handicap races, and innumerable workouts. GAP has hosted hundreds of track meets over the last six decades, including one in May 2011, where my mates and I set a Canadian M35 age group record for the 4x800m relay. (Our record didn’t stand for long, so don’t bother searching for it.)

I wrote about the old GAP track in Stroke of Luck, about how just seeing the red surface puts me in a comfortable place. I also did a blog piece—Homage to GAP 1.0—to mark the seventieth anniversary of Roger Bannister’s historic four-minute mile and the sixtieth (or so) of the GAP track itself. That was more than a year ago.

Sure, with a new, modern facility (some have started calling that one Smurf Turf, but I prefer Big Blue) being built a stone’s throw away, the writing was on the wall. I dared to hope that the City would keep the old place open. And if that wasn’t going to happen, I was sure they would leave it in service until the new track was ready. Well, now we have our answers: no and no.

Here is the main issue I have with the City’s decision: there’s no convenient alternative for running clubs that train in Calgary’s Southwest. As rough as the surface was, the track was in constant use by individual runners and clubs. To demonstrate their commitment, athletes regularly organized themselves into shovelling crews to keep a couple of lanes open through the winter. Speaking of the winter, progress on the new facility seems rather slow, so we’ll have to wait until sometime in the new year.

I pointed out all of these things when I called 311 today, but it won’t change where we are.

I don’t need to repeat what I wrote in my previous piece. Instead, with a distinct feeling of nostalgia, the best thing for me to do is add a few more memories, to convey what the old track meant to me.

Here’s a photo from a one-mile senior’s challenge race, which took place in May 2010. It was all smiles on the start line, except for competitor 15 (me). For the record, I never smiled in the final few minutes before the gun. That’s okay, though, as I doubt anyone was smiling ten minutes later. I have no record of the results, so that might mean I didn’t do very well. Even so, it’s a cool memory.

This is the current state of the spotting booth on the back straight. Although the plywood mural that covers the scoreboard is deteriorating and falling off in chunks, I can report that the pigeons that have taken up residence in the booth are doing well. I like the juxtaposition of these two half-images.

And here’s a photo I took during a recent workout. My friend Doreen and I ran intervals on a beautiful, warm August morning. Little did we know it would be our last spin around the track. This photo of Doreen, smiling as she heads into the back straight, seems to be a fitting one to close with.

I don’t know if there is such a thing as a memorial service for a facility, but I feel like the Calgary running community could do with one in this situation. For now, I tore off a chunk of the synthetic rubber surface as a keepsake. Deb was grossed out, but I don’t care—I’ll keep it in the garage.

Maybe I should deal with this the way I usually do—go for a jog and come to terms with this disappointing news.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Hello Vancouver!

CALL Health and Wellness Speaker Series

I’m thrilled to announce an upcoming event with the Calgary Association of Lifelong Learners. I’ll be doing a presentation of my memoir on September 22, 2025, at the Varsity Acres Presbyterian Church. See the details below.

The Calgary Association of Lifelong Learners (CALL) is a member-led, non-profit organization. Their mandate is to facilitate lifelong learning for residents of Calgary and area. Programs and activities are wide-ranging, focusing on arts and culture, society and politics, and health and science.

My presentation will be part of CALL’s Health and Wellness Speaker Series. I look forward to telling the story of my lifelong connection to the great sport of athletics and my recovery from a series of strokes in 2017. As my regular readers will know, I wrote about running, health, and recovery in Stroke of Luck: My Life in Amateur Athletics. The opportunity to meet with groups and clubs is by far the best part of this project. I’m gratified to be able to share my main messages:

The importance of an active lifestyle
Awareness of the full range of stroke symptoms
Raising funds to support the lifesaving work at the Foothills Stroke Unit

If you are interested in joining us on the 22nd, or if you’d like to find out more about CALL, please reach out to them here. I hope to see you then!

A Quick Visit to Vancouver

Our vacation planning this year has been somewhat ad hoc. That’s resulted in a series of short trips to some unexpected locations: Moose Jaw, San Diego, and Edmonton. But rather than being a problem, it’s been an opportunity. So much so that we are looking forward to doing more of the same in the months to come.

Last week, we decided to make an impromptu, short trip to Vancouver. There’s never a bad time to visit Vancouver, but our timing was especially good. We were in the city for two perfect days. While most of our trips to the city in the last few years have had us staying in Kitsilano or Yaletown—both fine locations—we opted for downtown this time.

Deb suggested that we stay at the new Azur Hotel on W Pender Street. The Azur is one of the Leading Hotels of the World, and she was curious about it. We’ve enjoyed stays at several LHW hotels—the Azur is one of only a few in North America. It was a great decision. Everything about our stay was excellent. The hotel feels quaint, and it exudes style. The staff were amazing. They treated us like royalty. The amenities were excellent, and the included breakfast was delicious.

We enjoyed walking through Gastown and along the waterfront at Canada Place. Of course, watching the Harbour Air seaplanes taking off and landing is always fun. We took the SeaBus across Burrard Inlet to North Vancouver and checked out the latest exhibits at the Polygon Gallery. We both thought the large-scale astronomical photographs by Thomas Ruff, a German photographer, part of the current Star Witnesses exhibit, were a highlight.

Food and drink? Well, you can’t go wrong with a coffee and doughnut from the 49th Parallel cafe on Thurlow, so we did that. And for dinner, we enjoyed a meal at the bar in the Blue Water Cafe in Yaletown. I had the Yellowfin Tuna, and Deb chose the Arctic Char. Both were delicious.

Some Vancouver Street Photography

Now, it wouldn’t be an outing worth talking about if there weren’t a few photos to share. With my trusty Ricoh GR III in hand, I caught the occasional street scene. Here are some examples:

When we’re in Vancouver, we always think about Fred Herzog. For those who aren’t familiar with him, Herzog was a Vancouver-based photographer, active in the 1950s and 1960s. He’s one of our favourite photographers, and a source of inspiration when I’m walking the streets of Vancouver. Herzog mainly shot with a Leica rangefinder using Kodachrome colour film, and his photographs reveal much about the character of the city during that era.

Although it isn’t fair to say Herzog was unknown during his lifetime, his work is really only getting the credit it deserves now. That’s due in large part to the efforts of the Equinox Gallery in Vancouver and the Trepanier Baer Gallery in Calgary. Here’s the cover of Fred Herzog: Modern Color. It’s a superb collection of Herzog’s photographs, published in 2017 by the Equinox Gallery. The image on the cover happens to be my favourite Herzog photograph.

This gives me an idea for a new blog series: My Favourite Photographers. I think Fred Herzog will have to be my first subject. Look for that soon!

While writing about the GR III, I’ll mention that Ricoh has just announced the GR IV (and discontinued the GR III). I’m definitely interested, although it might be said that on first glance, the specs are only marginally better than my current one. That said, my camera is now four years old, and I’ve noticed that it seems to have accumulated a lot of dust on the sensor. This problem is a known issue for the GR III. I thought I had avoided the problem until I looked closer at my shots from Vancouver. I probably shouldn’t be surprised, given how I handle (mishandle?) this camera on my photo runs. C’est la vie!

On that note, I’ll sign off. Thanks for reading. Until next time, be well and BE FAST!