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From cobblestoned Portuguese alleys navigated one-handed with a stroller to reef dives in Fiji, this is where the trips live. Told through words and whatever camera happened to be with me.
I shoot film and digital and travel with family in tow. These posts are part travel journal, part photography log, and part love letter to the places that made an impression. I hope they make you want to go see them for yourself.
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Happy Accidents
Five hours into a backcountry hike north of Vancouver, standing in a crystal-clear glacial stream with camera in hand, I watched my beloved Olympus XA sink straight to the bottom. As it turned out, the water had its own ideas about how these photos should look and some of them are better for it.
The Moraine, British Columbia, Olympus XA, Agfa Vista Plus 200
“Oh Shit.” I exclaimed, for all the birds and squirrels to hear. There I was, standing over a stream of waist-deep, crystal-clear glacier water, watching my Olympus XA camera sink to the sandy bottom. It had taken around 5 hours for us to hike to this spot, a lesser known wilderness hut located a few hours north from Vancouver. I had taken about a half roll of photos along the way up with my favorite compact film powerhouse, the Olympus XA. The weather was warm, and felt doubly so with my backpack on, so stepping into the cool glacial stream right in front of the hut seemed like a great idea to help cool off. Better still that its backdrop seemed particularly photogenic, so why not keep the camera in hand and snap off one or two shots?
Splash, that’s why. I’ve no idea how I lost my grip, but I felt my stomach sink well before the camera hit the surface of the water. A steady stream of bubbles emitting from the body on the way down confirming that it was by no means waterproof. I lunged after it, fumbled a bit, and finally lifted it out of the stream. Now what? Was one of my favorite classic cameras now a desk ornament?
The Fateful Shot, Olympus XA, Agfa Vista Plus 200
Hoping to avert film camera water damage, I hustled back to the cabin, opened the battery hatch and immediately removed the cell within. I gently shook out the water, and used some of our packed toilet paper to soak up what I could. It was a sunny day, and I thought perhaps placing it by the window of the cabin in the sun might warm things up and allow the water to slowly evaporate. I pondered my error, and began to wonder; a. if it would ever work properly again, and b. what of the photos already within?
The Hut, Olympus XA, Agfa Vista Plus 200
The rest of the trip was incident free, but I didn’t take any photos on the way down for fear of doing more damage. When I got home, I rewound the film, left the camera with open back sitting in a bag of rice for a few days and decided to take the roll to my local lab to see what would develop. I warned the tech of my misadventure when I dropped it off and he said he’d try his best. So fingers crossed for a day or two and I’d see the result (or not).
Mountain ridges and glacial pools, Olympus XA, Agfa Vista Plus 200
To my delight a couple of days later I received my customary email notification that my roll had been developed and scanned with a .zip file of the images attached. I opened it and started peering through the images, curious with what I would find. As you can see in the images here it was a mixed bag with, I think, some delightful surprises. First of all, none of the images were utterly destroyed, a relief as I really had no idea what to expect so was leaning towards the worst. Second, the impact of the water varied a fair bit, from spots most easily noticed in the lighter parts of the images to ghostly silhouettes and ripples of lighter color. In the image immediately bellow, I quite like the “phantom mountain” the effect produces.
Phantom Mountain effect, Olympus XA, Agfa Vista Plus 200
Somewhere in the woods, Olympus XA, Agfa Vista Plus 200
If I wanted to do something more with these images, certainly some of them could be retouched to remove imperfections and artifacts. Bellow is a rather crude example to illustrate the point. (Re-touching is not really a skill in my toolbelt!) But in the case of this set, I think the blemishes and strange silhouettes simply help to tell the tale, and certainly instantly bring back fond memories of that weekend in the mountains.
Looking towards the hidden hut, Olympus XA, Agfa Vista Plus 200
Nearly there, Olympus XA, Agfa Vista Plus 200
Ultimately the Olympus survived without issue. An almost imperceptible bit of particulate made it’s way into the viewfinder, but I’ve shot loads of rolls since this and it functions exactly as it should. A happy accident indeed then, and a lesson too -there’s a wrist strap on the camera now. I hope you enjoy these quirky images as much as I enjoyed capturing/saving them!
Get Disconnected - Murtle Lake
Once at the end of the road you’ll find yourself in a small dirt parking area and that’s where the adventure begins. From there, the lake entry-point is accessed via a winding 2.5km forest trail.
Peter & Peter, Olympus XA, Portra 160
Want to see the quintessential lakes and mountains of British Columbia, without the crowds that accompany the easily accessed sites near Vancouver? I may have a spot for you -if you’re willing to put in some effort to get there. Murtle Lake BC is the world-famous lake you've likely never heard of, until now.
White sand beaches, Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
Planning a trip? Here’s what you need to know before you go:
Murtle Lake — Quick Facts
Location: Wells Gray Provincial Park, British Columbia
Distance from Vancouver: ~600 km (≈7–8 hour drive)
Nearest Town: Blue River, BC
Access: 18 km forest service road + 2.5 km portage trail
Lake Size: ~30 km long
Boating: Canoe / kayak only (no motorized boats)
Campsites: Distributed along shoreline (many with bear caches & outhouses)
Best Time to Visit: June – September
Key Tip: Paddle early—afternoon winds can be intense
Cell Service: None
How to Get to Murtle Lake
“World Famous” you say? Yes indeed, though I’d first heard of it only a couple of weeks before we ventured out. Murtle Lake is the largest canoe/kayak only lake in North America. That means no power-boats, no sea-do’s, not even those little electric powered dinghy’s to help you explore this body of water that stretches for over 30km. This is going to be a paddle powered adventure, once you reach the water that is.
The lake is located in Wells Gray Provincial Park in British Columbia’s interior, nearly 600km from Vancouver, and an 18km off-road drive from the nearest village, Blue River BC. A 4x4 is not required, but good ground clearance and rugged tires will get you to the trail head with less stress. Once at the end of the road you’ll find yourself in a small dirt parking area and that’s where the adventure begins. From there, the lake entry-point is accessed via a winding 2.5km forest trail. This means you are hiking/portaging to the lake with your camping gear, supplies and vessel of choice, unless you’ve arranged to rent a canoe from the nice folks at Blue River Campground, who’s canoes are stored at the small dock at the end of the trail. The above characteristics tend to keep the day-trippers away and when considering the sheer size of the lake, almost guarantees the solitude one hopes for in a wilderness getaway such as this.
Cozy campsite, Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160.
Canoe Camping on Murtle Lake
Once you’ve left the dock and the small lagoon at the southern tip of the lake, the rest is up to you. There are campsites all over the shores of Murtle Lake, most equipped with bear-safe storage boxes and even outhouses. If you’re staying for a few days, you should relocate a number of times and experience different sites, shores and islands that can vary wildly from dense thickets to long white sandy beaches. A key piece of advice I’ll share is to start your paddling early in the morning and plan to end by mid-day. Fierce winds can descend upon the waters in the afternoon and easily overpower even the strongest paddlers, sending you wherever they’re blowing (which can be 20km+ from where you want to be, or worse). If you’re caught out later than you expected, hug the shore in case you need to make a hasty landing.
Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
The Sound of Silence
As power-craft aren’t allowed on the lake, there’s nothing but nature to assault your senses. The breeze whistling through trees, a trout jumping, the frogs croaking, all combine to create a nice backing track to whatever you’re up to. Oh, and the mosquitoes buzzing, but they’re not too bad. I tend to have my best sleeps while camping, and this place didn't disappoint in that regard.
Wild Shore, Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra XA
Hidden bonus lake! Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
Dinner prep, Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
White Sandy Beaches
Few lakes in the Pacific North West have white sandy beaches (that aren’t human-made), but Murtle, no doubt due to its glacial-volcanic heritage, has plenty. On a hot summer day you could be forgiven for thinking you’re somewhere much more tropical as you lay on the warm sands soaking up the sun.
Paddle past a beach, Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
Picnic Spot, Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
Let’s stop here, Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
To Do
I probably don’t need to tell you how to fill your time here, but definitely don’t forget your fishing rod! Even a natural fish-replant such as myself was able to catch some trout, and they were delicious cooked over the open fire. Organic eating with lake-to-table sustainable appeal!
There are also numerous hikes available from various campsites, including one to another hidden lake which didn’t show up on any map I had with me. I delight in experiences like that, and found most fellow paddlers on the lake eager to share their tips & tricks to finding hidden gems in the area.
Lighting the reeds and grasses, Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
Vicky catches the Sun, Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
Sunset at Murtle Lake BC, Olympus XA, Portra 160
Get Disconnected
A spot such as this is best shared with family and friends, in person and in the moment. One of my favorite aspects of this piece of wilderness was the complete disconnection from the digital. No signal here, folks. You can enjoy the company you brought along with you without distraction, and if you haven’t experienced that in a while, the experience alone is worth the trip.
The Road to Hana and beyond — narrow roads, raw coastline, and the question every traveler faces: turn back, or keep going?