Photography – My Second Running Life

Exploring North York

We’ve been spending time in North York lately, due to a family matter. For a Hamilton boy like me, the boroughs of Toronto have always been a mystery. Over the years, I have become familiar with a small area of North York, near the intersection of Keele Street and Lawrence Avenue. Our most recent visit yielded some memorable experiences, resulting in this piece.

A brief history of North York

What we now know as North York was the northern part of York Township—the city of Toronto (originally York) formed the southern part. In 1922, the mainly rural population voted to separate from Toronto. Apparently, there was resentment about the lack of services provided by the city in relation to the taxes being paid.

North York has had a long connection to Canada’s aviation industry. This made sense because Downsview was the highest point of land between the Don and Humber Rivers. The Downsview Airport opened as a general airfield in 1929. Early maps (like this one from The Downsview Advocate) show several airfields and aviation facilities.

Downsview was located next to a de Havilland Canada aircraft manufacturing plant, which used the airfield as a test site. It became a Royal Canadian Air Force station in the Second World War. In 1947, the Department of National Defence bought surrounding land to expand the airfield into a RCAF base. Then, in 1953, the RCAF established its storage and repair facilities for Eastern Canada at Downsview. The runways were lengthened to accommodate all types and sizes of aircraft.

Urban development in North York was minimal until after the war. A housing boom in the 1950s and 1960s brought residents into close contact with activities at Downsview. North York grew rapidly—it was incorporated as a borough in 1967, then as a city in 1979, and was amalgamated into Toronto in 1998.

Urban growth was the beginning of the end for the airport. When the Government of Canada announced the closure of Canadian Forces Base Toronto in 1995, the site transitioned into two distinct parcels: Downsview Park and Downsview Lands. Both parcels are overseen by the Canada Lands Company. Downsview Park is a large green space—more on that below.

The airport sits on the Downsview Lands. It was closed in March 2024. Now, a major urban redevelopment project, “YZD”, is underway for the site. Valued at $22 billion, the project is unique in that it will repurpose facilities at the airfield (the hangars and the mile-long runway) into a new community for 55,000 residents. This project plan (the id8 Framework Plan) shows the park and the future residential areas.

Downsview parkrun, solo edition

Our location was just south of the busy Highway 401. Downsview Park is about the same distance from the highway on the north side. That meant we were fairly close to the Downsview parkrun.

Like all parkruns, Downsview is a stress-free running event, held every Saturday morning. Well, almost every Saturday morning.

I pitched the idea of arranging our daily outing around the parkrun, and Deb was up for it. We figured we could take an Uber to the start, see the park, and then walk back to the house. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other plans. Toronto was in the grip of a cold snap so severe that the organizers cancelled the run, out of concern for the volunteers.

Our enthusiasm was only slightly dented by this news, because we had set our minds on seeing the park. So we went ahead with our plan. I did an easy jog, two laps of the park on the well-marked trail, while Deb walked. It was a beautiful, sunny morning. The park is a treasure. It was a good thing we had bundled up, because it was cold. A good excuse to keep moving.

I took a few pictures with my iPhone 14, which is never quite as convenient as my Ricoh GR III—especially since I had to take my gloves off each time!

A highlight of my run was a meeting with a group of birdwatchers. I had to admire the dedication of these hardy folks. It’s one thing to be running at -20 Celsius and quite another to be standing knee-deep in snow. I was curious what they were looking at, so I stopped and said hello. They pointed out a long-eared owl, perched in a tree about 50 feet away. Once more, I took my gloves off and tried to snap a picture. It was not a resounding success. The shot on the left is mine. The one on the right, from the Audubon Society, shows what the bird actually looks like.

Record snowfalls—a personal history

The cold and wind that led to the cancellation of the parkrun were just a taste of what was to come. On Sunday, Toronto experienced the largest single-day snowfall in its history. The official figure was 46 cm of snow. We had work to do in the house, so I was content to stay inside while the storm raged. Deb was more adventurous, and she gamely did some shovelling around the house.

The talk about record snowfalls reminded me that, by coincidence, I had been in Toronto many years earlier for another historic winter event. There was some notoriety around that day in January 1999 when Toronto’s mayor, Mel Lastman, called in the military to help dig out the city. He was ridiculed because, you know, this is Canada. We can deal with snow. (Photo: The Weather Network)

My connection to the 1999 snowfall was professional in nature. I was in town for a business meeting, and I was staying at the luxurious Royal York Hotel. The city shut down, and I was trapped. Oh, the hardship! Mind you, the hotel’s kitchen and bars remained fully operational, so it wasn’t all bad. In fact, since the streets were abandoned, I got to my meeting 30 minutes early.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who was curious about how these two events (1999 and 2026) compare. Check out this chart from a CBC article. It turns out 1999 was worse than 2026, only because of the accumulation of snow that occurred in the days leading up to the big event. In retrospect, maybe we can cut Mayor Mel some slack after all!

The days before and after Toronto’s record snowfall provided some good photo opportunities. It was a monochrome world as the city dug itself out. Here’s a sample. Copyright for all photos is mine.

Wrapping up

All told, it was an interesting week in Toronto (or North York, if you prefer). We experienced weather more reminiscent of Alberta than Ontario. I tried to add the Downsview parkrun to my resume, and even though that didn’t happen, Deb and I had an enjoyable outing. And then we weathered the storm. I expect to be back there in the spring—-hopefully it will be worthy of another post.

Until next time, be well and BE FAST!

Milestone Reached—100 Blog Posts!

With a small, self-congratulatory pat on the back, I will advise my readers that this is the 100th post on My Second Running Life. It seems appropriate that I’m writing this as we turn the page to a new year, and also as I approach the third anniversary of this project. These are both events that lend themselves to introspection, so I will do a bit of that before looking forward to 2026.

State of the Blog

With a few exceptions, I write pieces on these topics: running, photography, and/or strokes. Here’s my rationale—running has been a constant presence in my life for fifty years; strokes threatened to end it all, and likely would have, had it not been for the previous point; and photography has increasingly been the medium where I express my thoughts and feelings as I go through life.

And what about this life—My Second Running Life? When I settled on the title for the blog, it was my way of reminding myself that fulfillment can come in different ways. I think the title still serves that purpose. I hope that my readers see it the same way.

I will add a thought for readers who may struggle to balance elements of their own life, especially if that includes trying to maintain a high standard of performance as an amateur athlete. For many years, I was there, too. Let me remind you that there will be no harsher judge of your success than you. Only you can decide what success looks like—don’t let anyone presume to tell you. And only you can give yourself permission to back away when that is the right thing to do, because of family or work commitments. It’s worth remembering that the word amateur refers to someone who participates in an activity for no reason other than the love of doing it.

I describe competitive distance running as a perfect proxy for life itself. There will inevitably be highs and lows. In a race, we may be having a rough stretch, only to find the next mile is better. If today’s effort falls short and the race doesn’t go to plan, we can console ourselves with the thought that there will be another chance soon.

In other words, we must never lose hope or stop believing in ourselves. That’s what this blog has always been about.

The Year in Review

Running

My days of preparing for and executing goal races are over, but I will never tire of being around runners. In 2025, I had plenty of opportunities to catch racing action in Alberta; cheer on friends and teammates; meet some very talented athletes; do some volunteering; and, of course, snap some memorable photographs. We also said goodbye to a dear friend. You can read about the major events on the calendar here, here, and here. Below is a small sample of my favourite running pictures from 2025:

Copyright for all photographs is mine.

Strokes

When I started on the path of self-publishing a book, I knew almost nothing about the process. However, I knew I wanted to share what I had learned about strokes, which are typically the fourth leading cause of death in Canada. And I wanted to give back in whatever ways I could, to support the essential work being done every day at the Foothills Stroke Unit and the University of Calgary.

I was fortunate last year to have had several opportunities to tell my story, as written in Stroke of Luck. It’s extremely gratifying to share my key messages: the importance of an active lifestyle, awareness of the full range of stroke symptoms, and recognition of (and support for) the world-class stroke care and research being done at Foothills.

Naming everyone who made these events possible would be difficult. I appreciate the help of the Calgary Health Foundation to ensure that funds raised go where they should. Let me share a few photographs from events in Canmore, Edmonton, and Calgary:

I close my posts with the acronym BE FAST, but it seems timely to remind my readers just what this small and powerful phrase means:

If you or someone you care about is experiencing any of the symptoms of stroke, don’t hesitate—call 9-1-1 right away! If you want to learn more, do check out some of these other posts on the blog: here, here, and here.

Other Photography

Photography has become my constant companion, on my runs and walks, in good times and bad. Believe me, the last couple of years have brought more than enough bad news. Fortunately, memories of family and friends that we’ve lost are a blessing that will sustain us.

I still prefer to carry a dedicated camera, although I find myself slowly giving in to the convenience of digital. I admit that I shot less film in 2025 than I have in previous years, and that’s a shame. In any case, here are some of my memorable shots from 2025 (all digital, as it happens):

Regardless of the format, my approach to photography is almost completely intuitive. Recently, a guest on my blog wrote that calling myself an observer may not be accurate. But that’s okay. I never know what pictures I’m looking for when I head out the door. What I’ve learned is that I should trust my instincts—if I see something that catches my attention, I should react to it. I plan to keep that going.

Goals for 2026

With a bit of luck and planning, I think 2026 will be a good year. The first good omen was the Sheep River Parkrun on New Year’s Day in lovely Okotoks. It was a perfect start to the year, as I was surrounded by good friends and my son Daniel.

This morning, chinook clouds south of Calgary seemed to be calling to me. I drove in that direction and found myself back in Okotoks, at the “big rock” which gives the town its name. As I admired and photographed this impressive glacial erratic, it occurred to me that the rock is a symbol of my life—it’s not on the path that was expected, and it sits in pieces. I take solace that, like the rock, I have survived. It’s a fitting picture for the top of this post.

As I quietly walked around the famous rock, I thought about topics for future articles. One idea I have is a series of photo runs in my favourite Southern Alberta towns, including more shots on film. I think it will be a wonderful way to explore the history and culture of our province, while (more or less) staying in shape. So look for that, as well as more of my favourite photographs from life, and of course, news on stroke research and prevention.

I hope you’ll check in often. As ever, be well and BE FAST!

Return to Prairie Mountain!

Just as Santa can be counted on for a visit in late December, we look to my friend Tim to reveal the details of the annual Prairie Mountain Winter Sunrise Hike. True to form, Tim set the date for the 2025 hike on December 29. Sunrise on that day would be, within a few seconds, the latest of the year.

Working back from a target of 8:39:33 a.m., our convoy of eight hikers met up at the Tsuut’ina Subway on Buffalo Run Boulevard at 6:10 a.m. With practiced efficiency, we were geared up and on the trail by 7:00 a.m. We expected to have ample time to reach the summit.

I’ve posted on our previous PM hikes, and I’m pleased to say these pieces have been popular. In 2023, I shared photos of a beautiful sunrise in Part 1: The Hike and delved into the mysteries of the celestial world for Part 2: The Science. We were not deterred by last year’s cloudy conditions—you can read about that hike here. This year’s forecast suggested that the star attraction would likely make a return appearance.

For readers who are unfamiliar with Prairie Mountain, it is the most accessible mountain for Calgary hikers. Accessible doesn’t mean easy, though—this is a good workout at any time. Last year, I noted that the hike seemed to be tougher than what I remembered. This time out, I had the same feeling. I’m not sure I like that trend! One foot, then the other. Repeat.

The Hiking Bit

Given the snow-packed conditions on the trail, I was (again) very thankful for the new stone steps on the toughest sections. Even so, I welcomed a short pause at the first lookout, where we switched off our headlamps. I couldn’t help but notice the vibrant orange light to the east, which was already impressive as we approached the summit ridge. Were we too late?

Because any PM summit is an impressive achievement, here’s my Strava activity summary.

A few words on equipment. I decided to bring my “good camera”, the totally manual Leica M10. It’s a wonderful camera, but when you are bringing up the rear in the dark, as I was, adjustments are challenging. That meant I came home with blurry shots of my hiking partners’ backsides and severely underexposed images. Overall, I think the Ricoh GR III is better suited to this task. As always, my Kahtoola Microspikes and ancient red Komperdell poles were a necessity.

As usual, our group set a steady pace. (I hang around with some very healthy folks.) It’s hard to blame my comparatively slow pace on my photographic duties unless I present a few photos. So here’s the evidence!

Note: Copyright for all pictures is mine

We enjoyed the relatively mild temperature (-5C) and the shelter of the treeline for most of the hike. However, as soon as we reached the summit ridge, we were immersed in a strong westerly wind. We slogged the rest of the way up the ridge. The small Canadian flag on the summit cairn was no match for the stiff breeze. We headed for the shelter of a few scraggly trees below the summit to wait for the rest of our group. With fingers losing feeling, operating cameras and zippers became almost impossible. There was no loitering at the top on this day!

The Technical Bit

Given the challenges I mentioned with manual camera settings, I thought it might be interesting to present a comparison of my pre- and post-editing for one of this year’s key PM shots. I suppose this is called making lemonade out of lemons.

Of course, everyone hopes for a good group picture at the summit. This year, we imposed on a solo hiker who reached the summit just ahead of us to do the honours. Now, my comment that “the settings should be fine” must be tempered with the reality that I didn’t actually look at these before handing over the camera. Yes, I was freezing, the wind was howling, and for all I know, he had never touched a manual camera before. I’m fully to blame for any technical shortcomings. That said, my heart sank when I saw the images straight out of the camera. However, with some comprehensive (and slightly desperate) work in Lightroom Classic, I managed to extract a passable image. You can compare the before and after image here:

A hardy group celebrates another Prairie summit!

At the risk of losing some readers, I’ll summarize the edits I made to this image in my attempt to rescue it. First, I increased the overall exposure significantly—a whopping 3.5 stops. I think the meter was fooled by the sun in the centre of the image. Then I dropped the sky by a stop, and raised the foreground by almost another stop. I raised the white balance to warm the image up slightly. I dropped the highlights, mostly around the sun, and raised the shadows. Then I increased the saturation, clarity and dehaze. That left me with a noisy image, which I tried to fix using the latest AI tools in Lightroom. In the end, I gave up, as all this did was create artifacts that were, to my eye, worse than the noise.

So, as long as no one looks too closely, this is a fair reminder of what it felt like to stand on the summit that morning. My homework for next year is to be better prepared.

Wrapping Up

With the start of a new year, one is often moved to contemplate things that truly have value and be thankful for people who are important in life. I’m very fortunate to be surrounded by like-minded people who value fitness and friendship. And we are all blessed to have special places like Kananaskis just a short drive from home. Thanks, Tim, for getting us out there and up there again.

The annual winter solstice hike was a great experience and a perfect end to the year. Oh yes, the post-hike coffee and baked goods at the Handle-bar Cafe in Bragg Creek were delicious. And well earned.

Until next time, be well, BE FAST—and Happy New Year to all!

Meet “The Flâneur”

Introduction

I’ve been writing this blog for nearly three years. Over that time, I’ve thought about whether the site is achieving what I intended when I wrote the first pieces. Indeed, it’s worth asking whether my initial objectives have changed—and if so, how.

My soul-searching is timely because my friend Phil Davies recently approached me with some thoughts on the blog and my other social media content. Phil has a keen eye and a strong artistic sensibility. He volunteered his opinion that my Instagram profile may not be totally accurate:

Runner. Observer. Stroke survivor.

Phil questioned my use of the word observer. At first, I wasn’t sure what he meant, because he had always been complimentary about my photo runs. For those unfamiliar, photo runs are a cornerstone of My Second Running Life—they make this blog what it is. As an example, here’s a piece I wrote about my run in Longview a few weeks ago.

For me, there’s nothing better than going out for an easy run with no worries about time and pace, seeking only a memorable photograph. I look for different things—colour, pattern, contrast, human interaction, irony—and observer was the word I settled on to describe what I do on these runs.

Phil went on to explain that there might be more to this process than observation. He even jotted down some thoughts, which I present here as my first guest submission on the blog. The photographs are mine, but Phil selected the pictures he wanted to accompany his writing.

In nineteenth-century Paris, the flâneur was a stroller who transformed the act of walking into an art form; moving leisurely through the city, observing its ebb and flow with an artist’s eye and a philosopher’s curiosity. Armed with nothing more than time and attention, he understood the city itself to be a living canvas, constantly repainting itself.

Steve’s approach to running and photography is a modern embodiment of this classic figure—using movement through the city as a form of creative engagement rather than mere exercise or transit. His curiosity and his keen eye allow him to see the extraordinary within the ordinary.

The flâneur’s genius lies not in destination but in observation—he reads the city like a complex novel, deciphering the social codes written in architecture, fashion, and gesture. In the Parisian context, this meant lingering in the arcades, studying the interplay of commerce and desire, watching how different classes of people navigated the same spaces with entirely different purposes. The flâneur sees what others miss because he moves at human speed rather than the hurried pace of those bent on efficiency.

Transported to Calgary among the gleaming downtown towers and the sprawling neighbourhoods stretching toward the Rockies, the flâneur’s eye discovers different rhythms and revelations. He might capture the interplay between the city’s frontier heritage and its contemporary energy—perhaps pausing to photograph how the morning light catches the glass of a modern office building while casting shadows on a historic sandstone church. My friend Steve embodies this Parisian tradition, combining the flâneur’s contemplative wandering with the practical purpose of his runs. His camera serves the same function as the flâneur’s notebook—a tool for capturing the moments that define urban life; transforming the ordinary act of moving through space into a form of creative observation. In calling Steve a flâneur, I celebrate something valuable but increasingly rare in our hurried world—the importance of moving through our environment with alertness, engagement and appreciation.

– Phil Davies, December 2025

These boots were made for walkin’…! (Calgary, December 2022)

Concluding thoughts

Until my discussion with Phil, I would have said that I wasn’t doing anything different from any other street photographer, except that I’m moving faster than most of them. When I’m cruising the streets, I do so with thoughts of my photography idols in mind; people like Fred Herzog, Elliott Erwitt, and Saul Leiter. I wish I could be one-tenth the photographer that they were.

I also move through the streets with a clear purpose. I welcome the creative tension that comes with choosing a location and then watching for promising scenes to develop in front of me as I’m running. Many times and for many reasons, I’ve missed a shot that I wish I’d captured. But that’s alright, because sometimes I come home with a treasure. I can’t ever be too hard on myself about this, given the parameters I’ve set for myself.

In the end, it may not matter what label I use—flâneur, observer, or something else. Phil, you’ve helped me see that this process of roving exploration is well worth the effort.

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!

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!