Photos of the Day

My friend and I traveled to Ucluelet on the wild west coast of Vancouver Island. There, we found the Ucluelet Aquarium, Canada’s first catch-and-release aquarium. Each February, the staff and volunteers go out into the nearby waters to collect live animal specimens along with their ecosystem (rocks, plant life, etc.). They bring the whole thing into their saltwater tanks, which are continually pumped with seawater. 

Over the season, the animal and plant life grows, and at the end of the season, around November, they put everything back exactly where they found it based on the detailed notes taken.

Whenever I'm in Jasper, I love to go for a bike ride on the trail that passes by Jasper Park Lodge. This year, passing through on my way east from the coast, I went for my customary ride and saw this little critter on the road in the forest near the lodge. It didn’t seem at all worried to see me and was preoccupied with something on the road.

When it finally moved on, it ambulated in a very odd way, kind of jumping from front to back feet and hopping away into the brush. I have never seen this animal before. It is about cat size with a catlike face but is clearly not in the cat family. I looked it up online and think it may be a pine marten. Do any of you know for sure?

Vegreville, a town of 5000 people one hour east of Edmonton, was settled by the French (hence the name) and Ukrainians (hence the giant Ukrainian Easter egg). Vegreville is the home of the impressive Ukrainian Cultural Heritage Village and an annual Ukrainian cultural festival.

At the village, one can see the original and reconstructed dwellings of the earliest settlers who were attracted to central Alberta because the landscape and climate are similar to those in the Ukraine. Most of the early settlers became farmers. Many of their descendants still live in the area, and some still farm—no surprise there, as the land is very fertile. Due to the war in Ukraine, new Ukrainian settlers have been arriving in Alberta, joining the 300,000 Albertans of Ukrainian descent.

They're apparently fitting right into the culture of Vegreville, which has gone over and above to make them feel welcome (think 12,000 pierogies dinner fundraiser). However, it turns out that Ukrainian language and customs have evolved over the past 100 years and now differ in some ways from the language and customs of the descendants of the early settlers. It’s a great reminder that culture, like medicine, constantly evolves. The newcomers can only boost the already strong Ukrainian culture of Vegreville.

I have seen so many beautiful vistas it’s hard to post. The Lake of the Woods area in western Ontario is particularly scenic – not in small part because after almost 6 weeks of rain, the sun came out! Two days ago, driving east in Manitoba on the Trans-Canada Highway, I passed the sign that proclaimed the geographical midpoint of Canada. I don’t feel as if I’m halfway through the Canadian portion of my trip. I plan to stay in Canada until October when the weather will entice me to turn south.

I arrived in Thunder Bay, the largest community north of Lake Superior (on the Canadian side, at least). Thunder Bay has a very speckled reputation with regard to relations between settlers and indigenous people. Many students from remote reserves come to Thunder Bay for high school, and tragically, many have been found dead in the Current River.

The book 7 Fallen Feathers by Tanya Talaga tells the story of some of them, including the grandson of famed Ojibwe artist Norville Morrisseau.

I didn’t know any of this when I spent a month in Thunder Bay 27 years ago. I took a job as a locum psychiatrist at what was called then the Lakehead Psychiatric Hospital. Then, I was very ill and took the job because I needed the money, but had no idea how I would manage to work full-time. I hadn’t mentioned my health problems during the phone interview.

I remember coming into my thankfully private office every day after lunch and sleeping on the conveniently located couch for 1-2 hours just to be able to get through the rest of the day. I remember going swimming at the Canada Games Centre and barely dragging myself back to the rented apartment in an old house given to me at very low rent in return for looking after two 30-pound Maine Coon cats. And I remember that the house was at the top of an incline I could barely walk up.

Reflecting on the differences in my health then and now, I am filled with gratitude. Today (June 14), I have been up for 16 hours, drove for three of them, did some work when I had cell reception, and went on a vigorous 8 km hike with a 28-year-old Dutch man I met on the trail. And I went for walks this morning and evening on the shore of Lake Superior. And I feel entirely well. Stay tuned; there is more to this story, but I need to do some more research before sharing it.

There Is Hope Everywhere

On Canada Day, I found myself in downtown Toronto, visiting old friends. Now that I’m on the road, I routinely consult various apps to find walking trails, bike trails, dispersed camping, and so on. For some reason, as I did my morning meditation walk, I looked at my location on All Trails and found I was very close to an extensive nature walking path system that I never knew existed despite visiting Toronto dozens of times and reading Margaret Atwood extensively. 

So, this afternoon, as part of my endeavor to increase my hormetic stress (in this case, to exercise more), I decided to embark on a hike near my friend’s house, and it was beautiful. Like everywhere else I have visited so far, it has rained a lot here, so all the gardens and trees are resplendent in bright green. All the early-season flowers are in full bloom. In one city park, there were some newly planted trees and around them, I found hope.

This one was unique because, unlike most, it was built and managed by a French Canadian, Mr. Jalbert. Back then, the English controlled most of the Quebec industry. It was conceived as a model town. Every residence had electricity and running water. There was an impressive convent school where the nuns lived upstairs, and the children attended downstairs. There was a store, a post office, hockey teams and company picnics. Interviews with residents and their descendants use words like “paradise.” The pay was good, and the food was good. The only consistent complaint was that the priest was dour and forbade many fun activities.

Sadly, though, the owner of Quebec Pulp and Paper closed the mill in 1927 with no warning. Apparently, technology for creating wood pulp had changed, and this mill couldn’t be converted. People slowly moved away to get jobs, and finally, the town was left to decay and be taken over by hippie squatters in the 60s and 70s. Then, the Province decided to restore the town as a tourist attraction. The original houses were refurbished, and now people can rent them as hotel rooms. It was a fascinating view into Quebec culture 100 years ago and well worth the time to visit.

Today, I decided I would do a hike that was highly recommended by my AllTrails app. It said it was a grunt but rated it as moderate, which I can usually manage, especially if only 6 km. It also said parking was limited, and it was good to get to the trailhead early. OK, so I woke up today just after 5:30 am (and still missed the sunset, which was closer to 4 am, I think) and decided not to tarry and to drive there before eating breakfast. These are the critical decisions one makes on the road.

I arrived and got a beautiful parking spot (i.e., large enough for my van without a 17-point turn). I cooked myself an omelet with fresh farm eggs from a roadside stand and cheese curd, to which I have been introduced in Quebec and have quickly become addicted. Although I don’t typically eat dairy, I seem to be doing OK with it so far.

Fully fortified, I headed up the trail, which turned out to be very challenging, an elevation change of 400 m, but I think I ascended and descended that same 400 m a few times. The reward was stunning views of the Saguenay River (similar to the one accompanying this, which was taken later in the day). Finally, I met some other hikers going close to my speed who were kind enough to converse with me in French and distract me from my bodily sensations and sweat dripping sunscreen in my eyes.

By the time I finished, it was 28 degrees and very humid. I definitely experienced a hormetic stressor—add that to the list of successes! If you want to hear me describe how to create a mood-elevating memory to use in neuroplasticity practice, check out “Creating a Good Memory” in my Traveling Shrink playlist on YouTube.

The Trans-Labrador Highway exists to enable the building and now the maintenance of a series of dams on the Manicougan River in Labrador to provide hydroelectric power to Quebec, a source of ongoing tension between Quebec, the indigenous people of the area, and the province of Newfoundland & Labrador.

Apparently, it is the largest dam of its type in the world.

People have been asking for photos of what it looks like in Labrador. If you have traveled in Alaska, Yukon or the Northwest Territories, the tundra here looks similar. It is soft and wet. You can’t walk across it without sinking. There is water everywhere; bogs, ponds, streams, rivers and lakes. It’s hard to imagine how forest fires could occur here, but there was a fire that forced the short-term evacuation of the 10,000 residents of Labrador City less than two weeks before I arrived there. In case you are wondering, with all this water comes a capacious population of black flies, and I’m covered in bites.

The main conifer is black spruce. The smaller species are willow, birch (which only grow to the height of small bushes), and of course, Labrador Tea, which I was lucky enough to taste. There are many types of edible berries, and bakeapple is a new experience for me. I find them delicious and am told they will be all over Newfoundland for the picking.

Written Aug 11 - I loved the almost 2000 km drive across the Trans-Labrador. Around every corner and over every hill is a new vista. The only problem (and it’s a small one) is that there are no scenic pull-offs for taking photos. So, this photo was a rare opportunity to share the beauty I’ve been experiencing over the past 10 days.

One of the sparks for the idea of including Labrador in my travels was an advertisement I saw a few years ago about an expedition cruise to the Labrador coast, particularly to Nain, which is the largest community on the coast and the furthest north.

Then, last summer, I met a Swiss traveler in Tuktoyaktuk who told me about the Labrador Marine coastal ferry that goes to Nain for a fraction of the cost. I filed that information away, and this May, when bookings opened, I was able to schedule the 5-day trip between webinars and Live! with Dr. Stein sessions.

As I traveled, I learned a lot about the local history. Coastal Labrador became a self-administered region of Newfoundland and Labrador in 2005. It is called Nunatsiavut, meaning “our beautiful land” in Inuktitut. There are five towns in Nutatsiavut. In Hopedale, I toured the igloo-shaped building that houses the elected officials around a huge polar bear rug, and in Nain, I saw the beautiful administrative center currently closed due to fire.

I was pleased to see and hear that the 5 coastal Inuit communities in Nunatsiavut seem to be thriving. The houses are brightly colored and freshly painted. There is a truck, a skidoo, an ATV and a qamutiik (traditional sled) in most driveways. Each community has a health center, and several have fitness centers, arenas, community centers, etc. Prosperity is coming in from the many Inuit employed at the nearby Voisey’s Bay nickel mine (the largest nickel mine in the world).

There happened to be a group of 15 elders on the ferry, and I was able to talk to some of them. They are proud survivors of colonialization, and now that they have control over their land and resources, they see a bright future. This view is very different from the one often reported in the media. I know many Indigenous communities are struggling (I saw one of these also), but seeing is believing, and Nunatsiavut seems to be doing well.

When I arrived in Red Bay, Labrador, today, I had no idea it was a UNESCO World Heritage site. It is the location of some of the earliest Colonial habitation in Canada.

Basque whalers came to this coast in the 1500s and left evidence of a sophisticated whaling operation. They were victims of their own success. After 85 years, the whale populations were already dwindling. Whales only have young every 2-3 years, so they can’t sustain unrestricted hunting.

There were two hikes in the area to see the world heritage site, and surprisingly, this boardwalk hike over the beautiful tundra was marked with inspirational sayings as one climbed hundreds of steps to get to the summit of the hill.

This saying, “All things are difficult before they are easy,” reminds me of the process of neuroplastic change. Change always seems very difficult at first. However, the more we practice the new habits we want to form, the easier and more automatic the new behavior gets. That is what neuroplasticity is all about—making hard things easier. I have just created a short video about this. Check out the “Traveling Shrink” playlist on my YouTube channel.

I have been wanting to visit this site for over 30 years since I ran out of time on a long ago, previous trip.

Far before Columbus, in 1023, Norse explorers created a settlement on the Northern tip of Newfoundland. They came to harvest hardwood to take back to Greenland which is treeless, but in the end the venture wasn’t profitable enough and they shut it down after about 20 years.

In the meantime, the Norse explored much of the Labrador coast and may have gone as far south as New Brunswick in very small open boats with wool sails! They left tools, cape pins, broken nails, and lots of wood implements as evidence that they were there. The site at L’ Ainse aux Meadows is a reconstruction that gives a sense of how they may have lived. And the surroundings are gorgeous in the bright Newfoundland sun.

Wow, Newfoundland gets more amazing by the day.

So, apparently, there is this very famous tapestry in France called the Bayern tapestry. It is 230 feet long and 20 inches high and tells the story of the events leading up to the Norman Conquest in 1066. 

Not to be outdone, the people of Conche Newfoundland, population 149, decided to make their own historical tapestry. Conche is in an area on the northeast coast of the Great Northern peninsula of Newfoundland. This part of Newfoundland was settled serially by Indigenous, Norse, French, English, Celts, and others, but the French heritage is strong, and the area is called the French Coast. It is very out of the way; I was the only person in the museum for the entire 2 hours I spent reading each panel and grasping the complicated history.

I’ve now traveled Canada from coast to coast. There are so many beautiful places, I’ve been trying to choose a spectacular scenery shot to share. Often, I’m not able to stop when I see a great photo opportunity, or I can’t quite capture the grandeur of what I’m looking at with my phone. But the scene today might fit the bill.

I had been recommended by several people to the Blow Me Down Peninsula, and so today, I headed in that direction, West on the Trans Canada Highway from Corner Brook. After having endured a very windy week last week, I was reticent to go somewhere called “Blow Me Down.” My van is tall and can be buffeted by the wind.

Yesterday, I was assured Blow Me Down is no windier than anywhere else in Newfoundland, hence my decision to check it out. As promised, today was a perfectly calm, hot day (about 26 degrees), and the overlook view of Bottle Cove was spectacular. Enjoy.

For those of you who are members of Live! with Dr. Stein, you will know how excited I am about the power of sunlight to improve our health. Since realizing how important it is to be up for sunrise, and since the days are getting shorter, I’ve witnessed more sunrises in the past month than in my entire life until now. Then, I make sure I’m outside again an hour later for the rise of UVA light, again in the middle of the day to catch some of the last UVB light of the Canadian summer season, and then finally, I watch the sunset to get a final setting of my circadian clock for the day. And here in Atlantic Canada there is the bonus of watching the sun rise and set over the ocean. It doesn’t get much better than this.

On my last day in Newfoundland, I drove towards the ferry at Argentia on the southwest coast, which would take me to North Sydney, Nova Scotia. As I was driving, I saw a parking lot with many parked cars … in the middle of nowhere. So, of course, I stopped to see what was of interest, and it was the information center for the UNESCO World Heritage site at Mistaken Point. It turned out that a guided tour, the only way to see the 500-million-year-old fossils, was about to start, and there was one spot available. Yet again, I was in the right place at the right time.

At Mistaken Point, some of the first water-dwelling, multi-celled, soft-bodied organisms were preserved by a volcano suddenly erupting and covering the creatures in ash. We were allowed to walk on the area in stocking feet. It is pretty amazing to know we were walking on a 500-million-year-old surface. In case it’s not obvious, the fossils are the fishbone-like indentations in the rock just above the dark line, which is a small crevice in the rock and a cauliflower-shaped indentation below the crevice.

While walking to and from the site, I talked with a very pleasant couple from Calgary who live about 7 blocks from me! It is a small world.

Most Canadians will know that Cape Breton (the northern peninsula of Nova Scotia) is known for coal.

For centuries, miners worked in pretty horrific conditions, sometimes starting at the age of 8, to provide the coal that fueled Canada and the world. With the advent of global warming and alternative energy sources, the federal government closed the last coal mine in Cape Breton in 2001.

Now, at beautiful Dominion Beach near Sydney and Glace Bay, Nova Scotia, the largest of the remaining coal-powered plants is slated for closure around 2030. Nova Scotia is committed to clean energy. And windmills are popping up everywhere.

When I saw this giant pumpkin patch, I had to screech to a halt to get out and take this photo. They take pumpkins and agriculture in general seriously in Nova Scotia.

Pumpkins are everywhere, in the fields, decorating houses and town squares, and made into pumpkin people lurking in the most unlikely places. For the past few weeks, I’ve enjoyed farm-fresh organic fruit and vegetables of all kinds. Apples and various squashes figure prominently.

The town of Kentville, Nova Scotia, seemed to have the most pumpkin people, but I wasn’t able to get a great shot of them. This photo, taken at the UNESCO heritage town of Lunenburg, will have to suffice.

Lunenburg is the oldest, pretty much untouched, and continuously inhabited town in North America. The British built it to house a flood of Loyalist refugees (white and black) fleeing the US after the War of Independence. Now, it is home to the famous Bluenose II and other tall sailing ships and some excellent seafood restaurants.

I remember visiting Peggy’s Cove 40 years ago. I recall driving there on a weekday when I was off work, being pretty much alone, looking at the lighthouse, and not being sure what all the fuss was about. Some things are wasted on youth.

Now, there is a visitor’s center, an ocean-view restaurant and a viewing platform. There is a boardwalk and signs warning people that death can occur from rogue waves and to be careful. There is a security guard to watch for people contemplating reckless acts. My friend and I came at sunset. It was cold and windy. The ocean was pounding against the rocks. And it was a clear, spectacular sunset. I appreciated every moment, including the lingering dark red afterglow.