The album that broke my 'buy everything Ultimae puts out' streak, for what that's worth. Which isn't much, sadly, but I won't beat around the bush on that factoid. Once I started consistently buying the label's CDs (sometime in the early '10s), I seldom missed a release once it dropped – if not right away, shortly after when I'd have the funds available (or the old Ultimae store would have a sale). Even as my interest in the label wavered, I was still pretty faithful to their output. Right up to Martin Nonstatic's Ligand, which I 'noped' out of without a second's thought.
Obviously I came around to getting it, otherwise I wouldn't be delaying a proper review of it within these paragraphs. Truthfully, I was itching to indulge in another Bandcamp bulk deal, and needed something to round the package out. Besides, maybe my earlier assessments of Mr. van Rossum's work had been too harsh, and he needed a second chance to win me over. Or would this be the third? Fourth? Well, whatever number, there had to be something I was missing to his work. After all, he wouldn't have become such a permanent fixture of Ultimae's recent catalogue if there wasn't. Right?
I guess, but if there's anything in his discography that'll give me that “ah-HAH!” moment, it ain't on Ligand. For sure there's fleeting moments, where I'll hear the kernel of a musical motif begging to get released, but Martin's fascination with glitchy sounds and overbearing reverb effects often snuffs them out before they can pick up steam. And I get it, really I do. It's so easy to get lost in the minutiae of what this particular plug-in can do, or how much delay you can layer on that sound, and absolutely there's an audience for that sort of thing. As for myself though, I kinda' prefer it when a lengthy track actually flows from beginning to end, not constantly be distracted by the technical wibble of modern production tricks.
There's still some things I can take away from this album though. As always, the Ultimae Mixdown™ remains top-notch – I may not be keen on all the glitchy interruptions, but I sure can still visualize them with a good pair of headphones. The backing pad work is generally nice, if at times vacuous. And those few times when something resembling a hook or melody does peak out, not just harmonic tonal dithering, it sounds nice enough. The end of Outermost Structure, for instance, or the subtle arps in Harmonic Mundi, and even the dubby acoustic strumming in Kepler's Laws.
Yeah, if some of these titles weren't a hint, Ligand is a very egg-headed sort of album (Parabolic View, Dendrictic Ice, Methodical Random, etc.). Which, given the sluggish, considered pace of all these glitchy effects explorations, makes thematic sense. Just gotta' be of a particular mindset to get much out of it. Say, one that consumes copious amounts of Autechre.
I have to confess to some burnout. Oh, not so much for this blog, the recent gap of reviews more due to seasonal allergies kicking my ass than anything. No, I'm talking about Discogs submissions, mostly of the N:L:E variety. I used to be pretty gung-ho about contributing to the Lord's tomes, but gads, there's just so much redundancy in some discographies, it kinda' makes the eyes go bleary, y'dig? Especially when it feels like you're the only one doing it, and for but a scant few souls who care.
What does this have to do with A Life Story, then? This digital single comes care of Espacio Cielo, a net-label that was already two years old by the time I'd stumbled into them on Bandcamp. When I went to scope out their Discoggian data, I was shocked to find very little had been added to their page, and was happy to contribute VVAA – The Sky Sampler Vol. 2 after I did my review of it. I thought, by the time I'd get to A Life Story from Bias & Jose Diaz, surely this print would have amassed more interested folks into their fold.
And maybe they have, but you sure as shit wouldn't know it from their Discogs page, remaining as bare as I last visited it eighteen months prior. It's not like they folded either, consistently releasing music in all this time, just recently celebrating a five year anniversary with a three-hundred n' sixty track bundle of their catalogue. They got the material, just for whatever reason, not the obsessive fanbase anxious to submit their details to the most comprehensive online music database.
And sadly, I can't say I'm up for the task either. I like what I've heard out of Espacio Cielo, but I know jack and squat about any of their featured artists, to say nothing of needing to do the arduous work of verifying them against all other, similar-named artists already existing in Lord Discogs' tomes. Especially ones with names as generic as Bias and Jose Diaz. Okay, I'm sure they're fine chaps, but seriously, just try searching for either at Discogs.
Anyhow, A Life Story. The duo bring two versions of the titular track, an Italo Mix that feeds into Espacio Cielo's fondness for nu-italo vibes, the Valencia Mix getting in on some extra synth solo and atmosphere. Man2.0, meanwhile, takes the track into more anthem fare, though gotta' love the extra rhythmic stretch with some flange stank thrown on.
B-side track Last Word has almost a proggy groove going for it, and is certainly moody enough for such a set, even if the production still leans retro. The remix is handled by label-head Parissior, who gets all electro-acid breakbeaty with it. A fun one, this, adding a little spicy flavor to the end of the five-tracker. Enough to give A Life Story a high recommendation? Absolutely! I don't want to still be the last soul to have bought this off Bandcamp.
A rather obvious release in some respects. Whether as praise or damning with faint praise, one of Suntrip's longest-serving narratives is how much of their output pays homage to goa trance pioneers like Astral Projection, sometimes to a fault. So many reviews of their discography – including yours truly – will have some blurb along the lines of “...sounds like A.P.” And while kudos to the label should be given for always looking to promote newer talent, I'm sure the folks at Suntrip had to be itchin' for the chance of luring the real deal into the fold some way.
Trouble was, Misters Nissim and Perlmutter had essentially retired from the studio after their 2002 album Amen. Sure, they could be counted upon for the odd remix job or collaboration, and they remained plenty active on the touring trails. For the most part though, they seemed content in letting their legacy remain as was, uninterested in changing their style to fit in with the then-current trends of full-on and prog psy. Even for a label catering to a sound they'd made their breaded butter with, convincing them for a proper comeback wouldn't be easy. A tit-for-tat remix EP though? Sure, that's doable.
It's funny that Let There Be Light was chosen as the single's title, as only Filteria provides a remix of the old compilation tune. It's certainly a track that's about as vintage Astral Projection as can be, even finding a place on that burned CD of A.P. tunes I made ages ago. So a fine one for Mr. Tzikas to remix as anything from their discography, and since not as well known as some of their others, deserving of a little modern shine. As for what's different, there's more squiggly sounds, and given the sort of beefening of production you'd expect of a contemporary remix. Beyond that, it hits most of the same musical notes as the original. As for the return-rub, Astral Projection take on the track that opened Filteria's Daze Of Our Lives album, Filtertraces. Here they've sped it up, given it that goa trance kick, smoothed out the overall production, and there you have it. It certainly sounds like vintage A.P., I'll give it that.
Two tracks down, but still two more to go on this Let There Be Light EP, neither of which are rubs of the original either. Instead, Morphic Resonance gets to have a go at another oldie in Enlightened Evolution, one of the duo's more bangin' tracks and definitely not nearly as obscure as Let There Be Light. Seems a shame Morphic didn't have a stab at Light, but Evolution does suit his tougher brand of psy better, and I'm sure he was plumb about having the chance to join this particular party anyway. The final track sees Astral Projection giving the lead titular single from Another World a spiffy upgrade. Cool, I guess, but would be cooler if it was something less known. We Are Controlling Transmission, mayhaps?
Can't start a proper Nas collection without getting at least one item from his current run of records with Hit-Boy. Everyone agrees this has been some of Mr. Jones' most consistently quality clutch of music since... forever? Like, you'd hope that'd be the case when working exclusively with a singular producer, but surely some slippage had to occur after six outings. Apparently not, both Kings Disease and Magic Trilogies getting high praise front to back. I haven't listened to all of them yet, the last two Magics coming out a year after I did that big discography dive, but I've taken enough of a sample-size to agree with general consensus.
As for why I sprung for King's Disease II, of the ones I did hear, I felt this was the strongest outing, so a natural jumping on point. I do wonder though, if that impression would stand should I go and binge-listen to this Hit-Boy Hexology-
Really? That's what a six-parter is called? I mean, it makes logical, linguistic sense, but man, doesn't have nearly the sexiness going for it like Trilogy or Quadrilogy or even Quintilogy does. Eh, those aren't what four or five parters are technically called either? Well dang, if they can get Urban Dictionaried, why can't Hexology? Where was I...?
So two things really leap out to me coming back to King's Disease II, and probably contributed to why it so stood out to me in the first place. One, the obligatory nods to (then) modern trap beats were mostly dealt with in the first clutch of tracks, leaving plenty room in the back-end for Nas' more vintage New York City soul stylings. I recall not being as keen on the first King's Disease because of its over-reliance on music looking to fit in with current tastes and trends. While they were fine and all, Nas always sounds best when he's drawing upon the sounds that influenced his upbringing, not so much what contemporary crowds want. Still, what we get here with The Pressure (old head detailing The Business), Death Row East (old head talking about hip-hop beef from back in the day), 40 Side (old head talking about his hood life) and EMPD 2 (old heads bragging about how they've succeeded) are solid outings.
Once things take a turn for the more soulful though, and Nas' lyrics grow ever more introspective, as one does with age and a platform to speechify from. Granted, there's always been an element of this in his albums, though brought with more fire and vigour in his youth compared to the place of contentment he currently resides. He never comes off as mocking or braggadocios though, always presented with an affable humbleness, as though Nas still can't believe how fortunate his life and career turned out. That he could still find invigorating ways to rap about these things so far down the line is a remarkable achievement in of itself. Jay-Z never sounded this charismatic about modesty.
One of the best Ultimae Records albums of the past decade! Except this isn't on Ultimae Records, instead Healing Sound Propagandist. I only learned of the digital print's existence by way of zakè, by way of his collaboration with 36. While in there browsing through the label's wares, I spotted Circular, with a (then) recent release, no less. Talk about being thrown for a loop. I'd thought they'd discontinued activity following Moon Pool.
Well, took a near-decade long hiatus at the very least. They may have remained active on the live circuit, or explored other projects in the meanwhile, or dealt with real-life things during the interim - any number of reasons to have such a substantial break between records. Trouble was, by the time they felt the itch to make more music, their style of opulent diversity was no longer so in vogue with the label they had previous made a home with. They couldn't return to the print where they made their '90s debut, the long since shuttered Norwegian Origo Sound (they of breaking Biosphere fame). Perhaps a return to Beatservice Records, then, the label where they'd been before getting the Ultimae nod? I don't know enough about them to figure whether they'd be a good fit – I imagine they went elsewhere for a reason.
Anyhow, here Circular are, seemingly out of the blue, with another full-length filled with the free-form music making their Future Sound Of London influence demands. Seriously, it has nearly everything you could expect from their “90s sampledelica meets '00s glitch-hop meets Ultimae widescreen sonics” style. Right, I'm pulling from a very limited sample source (mainly Substans and Moon Pool), but if you still have a hankering for that vintage Ultimae style, Kimono Kaleidoscope is that in spades. Real shame it didn't appear on Vincent's label but eh, not enough vacuous dub techno on it (re: none at all).
Particulars, then? Man, where do I even begin? If there's any critical fault to be had with this album, it's almost overstuffed with sonic goodies, but then that's been Circular's manifesto anyway. If the FSOL comparison hasn't worn out its welcome just yet, Kimono Kaleidoscope is rather like one of their Environments sessions, though more focused in singular songcraft among each track. It does still play out as one, long listening experience (or 'unfurled', should you get the single-track version), but each section is distinct from the other. Some of the transitions can be jarring – you're chilling to some nice ambience, then suddenly thrust into something bigger and bolder. And a clear thematic run-through isn't readily apparent beyond music making for its own sake.
I guess that makes Kimono Kaleidoscope not quite as good as Moon Pool, though I definitely rank it higher than Substans, a record I still have some trouble sinking fully in. Take that praise for what you will. Eh, compared to their earlier three albums? Haven't heard those so say if so. Maybe I should rectify that.
A completely unremarkable, totally forgettable, time-wasting eurodance compilation with tacky cover art and barely a smattering of recognizable names, much less tunes? Dude, I'm all for it! This was the stuff filling up my local music shops, not some prestigious UK DJ rinse-out or trendy Detroit techno collection. Well, okay, not this specifically, Killer Dance Tracks, Vol. 1 hailing from Germany, and DJ's Delight barely making an impression on the region's way-overcrowded eurodance scene. Besides, we had Numuzik's DJ Line filling that role.
Not that I was aware of that in my youth, but even I had some standards. Releases that got promoted on MuchMusic dance shows like X-Tendamix and Electric Circus were usually safe bets, while imports from Dance Pool and Ariola would cross over too (thanks, Sony!). If this had somehow made it over, I'm sure I'd have passed it by without much care. And judging by the amount of folks on Discogs who claim to have a copy (less than a dozen), I'm not alone either.
Which is what makes checking out something like this a smidge exciting regardless. I know I'm not gonna' unearth some rare gem like God's Groove here, but that's not the point of this exercise. No, I'm diving in searching for nostalgia triggers, memory endorphins, and dance music that still, three decades later, can generate brief blasts of dopamine. A trip down the grungy side-alleys of memory lane, where you don't really want to dwell for long.
And right off the kick, I get that in French Connection's I Don't Like Reggae, a jaunty hip-house revamp of the old 10cc cod-reggae hit. Wow, I definitely had that on an old CD that was either pawned off or electrified in a microwave during a house party. Same can be said for the Sly! track One Day, a one-and-done single from Alex Trime, he of many eurodance hits, including with Haddaway. It took me a while to place where I'd heard One Day though, another forgettable compilation called Le Studio – Night Club 93 that still held a few neat tunes (Interceptor 17 definitely one worth searching out).
There's some more piano house tunes, some hip-house tunes, some Latin-leaning dance tunes, a couple ravey tunes, and the usual assortment of cover tunes. Some trigger the little rushes I was looking for, but just can't quite match the centrepiece of the whole dang CD: Cappella's U Got 2 Know. I'm not just saying that because of nostalgia triggers either – the track is just so much more solidly produced compared to everything else on here, carrying extra oomph in everything from the rhythms to the synths to the samples.
Man, no wonder the act blew up with this single. Hell, it was one of the reasons I bought Killer Dance Tracks, Vol. 1. Could I have gotten it elsewhere? Probably, but I doubt they'd also have fishnet booty-shorts on the cover art too. *sees the cover of Top Dance 8 from Arcade* Well, daaamnn!
In some ways, wrapping up that massive Speedy J dive on the Collabs series was perfect. Here I was, finishing one artist's discography, all the while introducing me to a couple others I may never have scoped out otherwise. Obviously I already knew of Beyer and Liebing, but discovering Gerd in those bundles has been an illuminating experience, a treasure trove of material I likely would never have known about. Like, I could have stumbled into it via some other avenue, but it felt more poetic doing it this way: concluding one Dutch techno producer's catalogue, beginning the journey of another.
And so I was hoping such would also be the case with George Issakidis. His collabs' with Jochem were already the most interesting of the bunch, and when I found out he was formerly of The Micronauts, it only intrigued me further. Unfortunately, his Discoggian data revealed precious little. A smattering of singles, a brief stint running a label, then seemingly capping his career off with this lone album of Karezza. Well, I feel like I'd be doing him an injustice if I didn't at least give this one a review, and isn't it handy it can be had for a reasonable penny on the Discogs Marketplace.
Not gonna' front: this was a bit of a challenging album to digest. Interesting, sure, but one that needs more time to marinate in my mind than the short window I typically give myself with these now. I figured I'd be in for some weirdness and abrasive abstraction, but so long as it was coupled with impossibly groovy house and techno, I was up for it. Well, I got that, but dang is it ever hard to describe exactly what it is. Perhaps that's why it didn't get much attention? Who knows a decade later.
Okay, let's give it the ol' college try. Opener Hiva Oa mostly drones over a digital trip-hop beat with bubbly, burbly synth sounds. Second track Summer Solsticeka-lumps along with industrial clank and more atonal noise blasts. Santa Rosa de Lima takes a turn for the Balearic, in a slightly warped way, but at least features some nice strumming sounds and backing pads. Hold My Hand, the clear centrepiece of Karezza at a near fifteen-minute runtime, gets into the muck of tech-house minimalism and digital distortions. Its something that I really shouldn't like, but somehow find myself drawn into. See what I mean about ol' George? Music making that's blunt and off-putting, yet strangely hypnotic too. Like being in the midst of a wicked bender, barely hanging on at the club bar, mesmerized by all the stimuli surrounding you.
The tracks following go more conventional techno, or at least as conventional as Mr. Issakidis' production style will allow. There's also an element of electro sleaze oozing through the seams, which is cool if that's your vibe. And if not, here's an ultra-choppy melodic blast in closer In Love (Dzir Mix), like a drunk-off-his-tits Axel Willner.
Not only did we kick off this 'J' block with three items from Mr. Giacovino, but we're now wrapping it up too. Yep, it's a complete Natural Life Essence sweep here, which probably isn't that impressive at first blush. 'J' words remain rather limited in the English vocabulary, much less to title one's album with. I've a few 'journey's, and if I was more of a Jazz Guy, Guru's Jazzmatazz, Vol. 1 wouldn't stand so alone. You'd think I'd have more 'jungle' releases too, but Congo Natty's Jungle Revolution In Dub is about it. Or was, N:L:E's Jungle Stories now joining this jumping 'J' jamboree.
Wait, why don't I have more jungle releases with 'Jungle' in the title? I'll grant I mostly missed the genre's early wave, not cluing into the scene until it had morphed into the more marketable drum 'n' bass label. Yeah, yeah, you can make technical demarcations between the two sounds, but when it came to shoving CDs onto store shelves, d'n'b was what stuck, looking classier than all the renegade 'wude-boys' artwork adorning jungle releases. Does kinda' make me want to sift through Lord Discogs' marketplace now, seeing what cheapy '90s compilations I can find there. Gotta' be a treasure-trove of them!
Anyhow, this has precious little to do with Jungle Stories from Juan Pablo. Not that I couldn't imagine him indulging in some brisk, broken beat action somewhere in his massive discography – every producer gets an itch for the 2-step or Amen break at some point. Generally though, his preferred rhythmic lane is on the dubby downbeat, with the occasional sprinklings of spritely ambient techno.
So imagine my surprise when he actually brings something... well, not exactly d'n'b, but certainly at a higher BPM than his usual fare. Granted, it's just one track out of four on this tidy EP, but it's one track more than I've heard from a lot of N:L:E in a while (ever?). Epic Land does still skew closer to dub at that, but the beats are energetic enough to pull it ever so near the realms of atmospheric jungle. Lovely sweeping synths and a groovy bassline don't hurt either.
That's about it for 'jungle' related sounds on Jungle Stories. Sun And Shadows is more of Juan Pablo's twinkly ambience, Running Through The Jungle is more of his ambient dub. And Night In The Jungle is something of a combo of the two (gentle ambience, big bassline). At no point, however, do we hear any field recordings of equatorial rainforest fauna. No birds of paradise, no incessant insect chatter, not even a jaguar roar. Man, I know Mr. Giacovino originates from Argentina. Is it so hard to bring a giant microphone to the Amazon? Yes, just as easy as it would be for me to bring one to the Cambria Icefield.
Regardless, a nice little EP here, one I was honestly shocked by its shortness, after all those lengthy Jamming Caravan sessions.
Juan Pablo seldom posts notes or factoids regarding his releases, such things typically left blank on his Bandcamp pages. And I understand why, the music mostly self-explanatory by title alone. Here he was inspired by micro-fauna. This one by space. That one by ancient peoples. Another of space. Sometimes just a free-flowing composition with no particular aim beyond enjoying the process itself. Why bog the listener down with paragraphs of copy when such things are generally moot? It's clear Mr. Giacovino wears his artist's heart on his sleeve – what you hear is pretty much what he intends, no need for obscure, abstract concepts guiding you along the way.
So I was a little intrigued by the fact he included some liner notes for these Jamming Caravan releases. It was clear they were outside his usual norm, cover art featuring images of gear rather than naturalistic settings. Apparently he was just having fun with a few of his synths and such, nothing directly inspiring their use beyond whatever sounds he could make at the time. Maybe not the most luring concept among his many releases, but when you clearly have little filter in what gets uploaded to your webspace, what care is there in why the art was created beyond for its own sake. Surely some folks will like it, if not for the music itself, than for the gear used. Gear hounds love hearing their preferred tech-specs in action!
Oh, I guess I should actually mention what Juan Pablo used in these sessions, since he was so keen on sharing that info. One (1) Korg NTS1. One (1) Korg Volca fm. A Pocket Operator Pro 32 Tonic. Some NTS1 effects. “Many Other FM Virtual Synths.” How cool is that, eh? Eh? Okay, I can't fake that funk, my knowledge of gear rather limited – never got into it because good Lord is that ever an expensive hobby. I'm sure there's some folks reading this who'll be all like, “Pft, what amateur hour kiddie-toys this be, harrumph harrumph”, but scene snobs exist everywhere, no matter your niche interests. Let them be, and have fun with the toys and tools you enjoy.
And as for that all-important musical result of all this jamming? The first two Caravans feature two tracks apiece, each breaching half an hour in length (save Jamming Caravan 2, running a svelte twenty-five minutes). Yeah, these are jams alright, mostly ambient noodling with light pulsing melodies and sparse rhythms. Vintage Fax+ stuff, if you get my drift. It's pleasant enough as background music, but in being so freeform in craft, will likely only hold your attention intermittently before fading off again. The third session, Live At Lofi Temple, at least breaks things up into four parts (most lasting about a dozen minutes), each exploring different facets of the same basic musical motif. Doesn't hurt these lean more into psy-chill and dub than the lengthier outings, always good for keeping the reptile brain entertained, a fussy one to please.
So I went on a small trip that I want to share some pics of but I've discontinued the use of the one platform that I typically did so on. What do? Oh yeah, I have an actual blog, that thing lots of people used to use before social media drew everyone away. I think some folks still use them as such but I get it, the allure of having more eyes approving of your life style. Well, nuts to that. May as well use the platform I've basically made my content little corner of the internet. Don't worry, this will still primarily be a music blog. Going forward though, I'll occasionally break from the routine, should some life events warrant it.
Before I post the actual pics, some context. I flew north back to my hometown, which may not sound all that exciting, until you remember where I live. Yes, the Pacific Northwest, and to get to my hometown from my current town, you can either fly 750km, take a ferry of slightly longer length, or drive 1,500km. Why is it twice as far to drive? Surely you'd just hug the coast, right? No, because there's a huge range of massive, f'-off mountains between, with no hope of ever just cruising through them.
What massive, f'-off mountains might look like.
Believe me when I say nothing makes you appreciate just how untamed and impenetrable so much of my 'backyard' is when you fly over these rugged, jagged, glaciated alpines than having a crystal clear day to bask in their grandiosity. I think I caught glimpse of them once before in my youth, but so many plane trips along the coast were covered by our usual assortment of thick, rainy clouds obscuring all but the tallest peaks. I feel fortunate that this trip afforded me the opportunity to see them in all their splendour, with skies so free of clouds, I could see the Tweedsmuir lakes in the eastern distance. Couldn't really take pictures of them through a tiny plane window though, hence these stock photos standing in.
Puny humans in the face of inhospitable terrain.
Anyhow, having arrived in Prince Rupert, I felt an itch, an urge. The town is nestled on an island between its harbour and a mountain of its own, a long ridge with a peak of about 700m high. Clearly a mere foothill compared to the average 3000m behemoths that are scattered about the Coast Range, but a twinge of wanderlust pricked at me. That while I'd likely never climb to the top, say, Mt. Waddington, surely I could do Mt. Hays.
What a Mt. Hays might look like.
I'd been to the top of that mountain before, but by vehicle up the old mountain road, or taken a gondola up when there was still a tourist and ski station at the summit. I'd never hiked up it, only the various trails scattered about its base. I felt like this was something I had to do before I left, a last little bit of unfinished business where I spent most of my youth. So I did.
It was something I really should have put more forethought into than just doing on a whim. First, I was going by myself, which most hikers will say is already irresponsible, especially in an area that's rather difficult to access from civilization. The weather was nice though, if cold, so surely some other hikers would be out on this day. Save a lone jogger passing me twice (!), I was utterly alone.
I also quickly realized that this was no casual jaunt through a city park, the incline coming immediate and challenging. The whole path was 4km long, just to get to a 500m 'first' peak – I'd walked maybe twenty minutes when I was already feeling that burn. After about the first kilometre, I was at my highest heartbeat level. I thought of a friend of mine who'd gone into cardiac arrest doing the Grouse Grind, a challenging hike in Vancouver. Paramedics couldn't reach him in time, despite people being with him. And here I was, climbing the backside of a steep-ass ridge, by myself, my own heart-rate maxing out, with no one to watch out for me. Or what if I twisted an ankle, blew out a knee, slipped on some rubble? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
A relief map of the path I took.
Yet, there was something uniquely alluring about the path this day. Rainforest hikes are always special, thick with foliage, seeing nature at some of its most feral – and British Columbia is filled with them. On this day though, it seemed even the mighty Pacific rainforests were tamed by the cold that had settled in. Not a biting, brittle freeze, but enough to put nearly everything in stasis. The various mountain run-off streams that dotted the trail were all frozen solid, yet no snow lay upon the ground. The usual chatter of forest fauna, dead silent. It was a realm locked between its natural state and wintery smothering. I didn't want to go back so soon, and the only way further was up. So up I continued.
Eventually, I came upon something I hadn't counted on, as you couldn't see it from the ground below: a snow line. That delicate barrier where the surrounding air is no longer warm enough to melt whatever lay upon the ground. Where you transition from just a regular ol' hiking trail (challenging though it was) to a realm reserved only for the hardcore. The path carried further, but I wondered if that was enough. I hadn't planned to go this far, much less by myself. I was getting seriously out-of-reach now. Plus, I saw large paw prints in the snow. I knew wolves were known to wander these paths, folks discouraged from bringing pet dogs because of it. How fresh were these tracks? They looked fairly recent, little erosion around their imprint, but given how mild the local weather had been in recent days, that didn't prove anything. I could have turned back then, more than having sated whatever need my wanderlust craved. Still I continued up.
What a snow line might look like.
Some twenty minutes later, the trail finally came to its natural end. A lone bench marked its final destination, with a view that made it all worth it. The Rupert Harbour as I'd long remembered it. The spit of land that's actually part of the mainland. The Metlekatla village clinging to the inside of that peninsula. Beyond it, across high seas, the Dunbas Islands group, the most northern cluster of Canadian islands in the open Pacific Ocean. And, if you look carefully, in the distant mist, the tall peaks of the most southern tip of Alaska's Prince Of Wales Island.
What a view from near the top of a mountain might look like.
Granted, it wasn't quite the 'flying over endless f'-off mountains' kind of a view. Even from that vantage point though, you recognize just how much of nature still claims dominion over large swaths of this planet. That despite our best efforts, there's places that we will likely never conquer, that will remain unspoiled, and are privileged to at least glimpse upon these realms should we be adventurous enough to seek them out.
Okay, then. Cool. Now, about getting back down that damn mountain. Oh dear, this is gonna' do a number on my knees and quads, isn't it...? (yep!)
