He was looking right into my eyes. Or rather looking right through me, like I was transparent or in a different dimension. A young man, sitting on a bench in front of the old driftwood sided general store. Blue eyes. As blue as the icy bottom of Lake Huron. I could hear scratchy music coming from an old gramophone. The air seemed heavy, with the musty, decaying smell of dead seaweed, but I was not afraid. Actually, something was drawing me towards him, like some kind of connection.

As I approached, I could see that he was wearing old fashioned clothes and an old battered gob hat. “How dee do, Len?”

Huh! “How do you know my name?” I asked.

“Oh, just a lucky guess. I get these feelings. My name is Edgar. Glad to meet ya.

“What’s that thing you’re carrying hanging from your neck?”

I replied, “A camera,” Which I would, of course, carry with me, while on an early morning walk along Sauble Beach.

“That’s a camera?” he asked, “How come there are all those buttons on the back, and what’s with the window?”

“This is a digital camera,” I replied.

“DIG—I—-TALL? I’ve never heard that word,” he explained.

This was getting kind of eerie, and I was feeling a little troubled, like when you find yourself in a cemetery at 2AM. “Edgar, it was nice talking to you, but I have to get back to our cottage. My wife will be getting up soon, and I have to get fresh coffee ready for her.”

“No problem Len, say hi to Chantal. Maybe I’ll see ya later.”

I did return later. I was curious, as the morning seemed so surreal. Almost like a dream where images and feelings melt into each other.

I went into the general store and asked the young man behind the counter if Edgar was around.

“Edgar?” he exclaimed. “No one here by that name. Unless… oh shit! The only Edgar I’ve ever heard about is my great-grandfather, Edgar Hepworth.

“He was a sailor on the steamer ‘James Carruthers’, which sank close to here on November 11, 1913 in the ‘Big Storm’. He was washed ashore and died in my great-grandmothers arms right on that beach over there.

They had built this store.”

And that was my vacation at Sauble Beach.


Posted from Sauble Beach, Ontario, Canada [Click on any photo for the slideshow. Please leave comments at the bottom of the page]

The general store

The map says it’s buried here!

The paddleboarder

Pathway to heavan

I’m losing my head over you, my love.

The couple

How long is she going to be in that shoe store?

The paddleboarder