His sixth and latest CD project contains 14 original songs recorded with his band The Bluebudzz. More info can be found at www. Artist Doug Biden, brother to local clay artist Susanne Biden lived on the Coast for 14 years until his death in A sale of Biden's prints and paintings takes place in Gibsons tonight, Friday, from 5 to 10 p.
In Search of Stones (last copy) | rastatojacourt.ga
Biden left behind a huge number of prints, paintings and drawings and his work is still being exhibited. Biden taught at Capilano College in Sechelt for a few years and is well known in the local art community. Join with other families and share in the Christmas spirit, with activities ranging from candle dipping to gnome garden making, to walks through the magic cookie house.
Be prepared for a total transformation of the school into a magical winter wonderland with delicious food, a craft marketplace, children's activities, talented entertainers and much more. It's on this weekend, Nov. For Friday evening only at the hall from 6 to 9 p. On Saturday from 10 a. Kitchen is open with its usual fabulous soups, stews and goodies. The 12th annual St. Bartholomew's Christmas concert is on Sunday, Nov.
In between will be performances by talented young people and the winners of the St. Bart's bursary to the Festival of the Performing Arts. Partial proceeds of this concert go towards the bursary. The great bakers at St.
Water birds, fishermen readying their boats, and then the first, exhilarating scent of sea and salt. This part of the coast is known as the black coast, not just because of its black rocks but also because of its dark history of shipwrecks and piracy and lives lost at sea in wild storms. After the early morning rain squalls the sun shone and our spirits soared. We got caught up in the thrill of fish being weighed and sold, nets being reeled in and mended, and salt of the sea fisher-women delivering fish in buckets to local bars and restaurants.
The fishing boats are as colourful as the village houses and it seemed we might well be in Goa, rather than Portugal.
Here their ships were wrecked and their cargo plundered. Much more ancient are the granite roman fish salting tanks and the rocks deeply engraved with marks from tool sharpening. They had been invited to the village by a local they met while walking the Camino Frances. We discovered that not only where they Australians but that they lived 2 kms from us in the inner north of Melbourne.
All day the ebb and flow of the sea. Out along the coast, the lights of the fishing boats glowing on the dark sea, past coves and windswept dunes and seaweed gathered in stoops to dry. Farmers out in the fields sowing seedlings and harvesting vegetables by hand, with tractors the main traffic on the road, driven by men in peaked caps with headscarved women perched precariously on the wheel rim behind.
Camino de Santiago
We walked through a national park for a time. The forest was verdant green, the sun shone and the air was warm. We visited a church in Esposende to see the art and the rococo retable and then enjoyed a vino verde at a cafe in Marinhas — just us and a few old men playing cards and whiling away the slow afternoon.
Stepping out into the darkness and a starry sky. Walking into the embrace of the dawning day as we did most mornings. Church bells, bird song and the tinkling of goat bells.
Passing through stone walled villages then up into the pine forest carpeted with pink and mauve flowers. Across a stone slab bridge then up higher into the hills. High enough to be able to look south, back the way we had come along the Atlantic coast, and north, to the wild green hills of Galicia. Waymarking becoming art as we inch closer to Spain. A bright sunny day, with a tempering breeze from the sea.
A very lovely day for walking. Across the Eiffel bridge and the Rio Lima into Viana do Castelo where we sat in the late afternoon sun in a plaza in the medieval centre of town and basked in our good fortune. The light is softening, the persimmons are ripening and the vines are turning deep scarlet. Colchiques, the purple flowers that are the harbinger of autumn, are thick on the ground now. Moss covered stonewalled paths, relief carvings of sinners burning in the eternal flames of hell painted in lurid colours on church portals, a still functioning stone watermill, wooded glades, pine forests, then down again to the coast.
A beach, then wilder shores. Rocky and green, with wild white horses and a shepherd with a flock of goats. The sea shimmering all afternoon. With the assistance of Captain Mario we crossed the Rio Minho in a small boat and scrambled ashore on a rising tide into Spain. A Guarda is famous for its extensive and well conserved remains of a fortified celtic hill settlement, only discovered in and originating from BC. There is a stone circle, a church, and the remnants of a hundred or so huts inside an encircling wall. Unfortunately we arrived in town too late and too spent to contemplate the long steep climb to Monte Santa Tecia, the site of the settlement.
The Galician coastline is beautiful. Rocky offshore islands, lovely sheltered coves and rock platforms, stone-walled fields of caldo kale running down to the sea, and, to the east, a backdrop of forested mountains. Mussel hunters and rock fishermen and a shepherd tending his sheep. Quirky beach shacks refashioned from boat cabins and a red and white striped lighthouse high up on the startling barren Cabo Silliero. Acorn gatherers and chestnut gatherers and then on past an infant school where one child gave a tentative wave.
When we reciprocated the whole class started waving excitedly to the passing pilgrims. A sanctuary of cool tiled cloisters and tended gardens we sat in the late afternoon sun and allowed its serenity to permeate deeply into our beings. Rested, we wandered down to the nearby plaza, lively with people and bars.
Everyone basking in the sweet relief of Friday evening and the anticipation of the lightness of Saturday morning. High above the sea, walking in the wild hills of Galicia. Moss covered rocks and great, green pines and chestnuts and oaks. Only a minority of pilgrims walking the Camino Portuguese start out from Lisbon.
And a smaller number again walk the coastal route. So much banter and jostling and good naturedness.
click here Lovely too to catch up with people we had met much earlier in our journey and hear tell of their adventures. Just outside of Redondela we came across two English pilgrims, sitting as still as statues in the darkness and, as they do every morning, waiting for the sun to rise before walking on.
Through the green forest, across a roman bridge, past a stone watermill, then on to Pontevedra. The information bureau closed, we visited the beautiful 18th century Santuario da Peregrina pilgrim chapel searching for some authority that might reliably confirm whether or not we could continue on around the coast beyond Pontevedra.