I'm recently back from a leisurely trip to the west coast. Vancouver, to be exact. While there, I fell in love with the English Bay, a very nice little bay indeed. I may not compete, as far as overall fondness is concerned, with the bay on Le Fleuve, which my ancestral home overlooks. But English Bay, with its mist and it mountains, and the anchored container ships waiting like slumbering beasts, great hulking marine beasts, waiting for the run into the harbour, is surely well up on the list. Said the Whale has a really nice tune about it, as well.
My first day in Vancouver, my family (a sizable chunk of it, anyway) and I decided to check out the public market on Granville Island, reachable most easily via pedestrian ferry.
My lifelong love of boats and I were most impressed, and my new-found love of Sperry Topsiders was not to be disappointed, either, although I had left mine safe at home, preferring to risk my beater boat shoes to the perils of the road.
My mother has astutely noted that I enjoy taking snaps of people's feet. She is not wrong in this. Hence:
Of course, in the case of the boat's pilot, or captain, or what have you, I certainly couldn't resist, as he had on a wonderful pair of Topsiders. Surely one of the few who wears them in the appropriate place. I certainly do not, although it is a secret goal of mine.
Really nice pair of shoes. Between his wayfarers and his topsiders, his youth and his job as ferry pilot (or captain?) on the English Bay, I may have envied him for a moment. But really, I have no complaints, and if I want a boat, I can get one. And my bay, back home, is every bit as beautiful as English Bay.