#cultus lake

[mauriciorg]

Cultus Lake, BC

[handcraftedloghomes]

It's #ThrowbackThursday! Here's a great shot of the beautiful Western Red-cedar cabin we built up at Cultus Lake over 10 years ago!  

Visit us! www.cascadehandcrafted.com

[waywardink]

Some plein airs from Camping at Cultus Lake!

The last two are sort of… further thoughts/studies of the previous two.

[ideastraveller]

Cultus Lake Complete Guide

Cultus Lake Cultus Lake located in the Fraser Valley area of British Columbia, Cultus Lake Provincial Park is a natural paradise that covers an astonishing 656 hectares. The park became a provincial park in the 1950s and has since been welcoming visitors from all over the world to its scenic forest-clad mountains, crystal-clear waters, and gently sloping sandy shore. The Sweltzer River is the…

[beesofbumble]

[bullet-prooflove]

Downtime: Clinton Skye x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @crazybeautiful1987 @caffeinatedwoman @soultrysworld

Noone knows about the cases Clinton works in his downtime.

The ones he keeps locked in the top drawer of his desk in the mobile command centre.

They’re the ones that nobody else wants, the ones that local authorities won’t dedicate the resources to.

It’s heartbreaking, the amount of crimes against indigenous people that go unsolved. It’s the reason that he joined the FBI, he wanted to change the system, be the solution to the problem. Only the stack gets bigger and the resources scarcer.

He makes his usual round of calls while the others are asleep, hitting up the detectives, talking through their leads, making notes. The truth is the ones that do care are inundated, they try their best but it’s a deluge of violence, one that even the most diligent officer can’t hope to keep up with.

He leaves you until last, his pen tapping on the surface of the manilla file in front of him as his gaze flickers up towards the clock. Despite the late hour he knows you’ll be at your desk, you’re as bad as he is these days. When you see an issue you try to rectify it and working in Hate Crimes, you come across a lot of issues. You’re always out in the community, making connections, helping rebuild. It’s how the two of you met.

“Sienna.” He says fondly when you pick up the phone.

“Clint.”

He can hear the smile in your voice and he imagines you leaning back in your chair, the phone cradled underneath your chin. He’s only been away a few days but he misses you with a ferocity he can’t vocalise. The way he feels for you, it burns like a fire in his chest. With everyone else, he’s calm, reserved but with you he’s passionate, wild.

You’re a spirited woman, fierce, head strong. You’d brought colour into his world after the death of his sister. He hadn’t been living back then, he’d been holding everything together for Jesse, for Tali, his parents. It had become his pattern, numbing him to everything else outside of the grief they  suffered. His days blurred, his existence monotonous and then you had stepped into his life, a whirlwind of texture and vibrance. Your warmth had flowed over his battered psyche like the water from a stream, soothing, restorative.

You’d spent days working together, repairing the shopfront of a tribal member whose business had been firebombed before Clinton realises he’s starting to feel something again. It comes back slowly after that, the essence of his soul feeding back into his body.

“I just needed to hear your voice.” He finds himself saying as he closes the folder in front of him. “This case, the one I’m working, it hits a little too close to home.”

“Tell me about it.” You say so he does.

You already have an awareness about the residential schools. There had been an article last year when the Pope visited Canada to apologise to the Indigenous community for the abuse their children had suffered at the hands of the missionaries who ran those places, you had asked it about him about it back then.

“Your parents?” You had queried after you’d shown him the article on your tablet one evening.

“No,” He had said, shaking his head. “They were fortunate. They were hidden away when the authorities came to take them. They managed to avoid the ‘Kill the Indian and Save the Man’ rhetoric.”

Clinton knows hundreds that didn’t. There are still people in his tribe who to this day don’t know what happened to their children, they were simply taken away, never to be returned. The Bureau of Indian Affairs are still uncovering unmarked graves connected to these schools, thousands of dollars are being spent running DNA in attempt to reunite these children with their parents and debatably those are the lucky ones. For the survivors their stories play out over generations, the effects of their abuse like a stone being thrown into a lake, rippling throughout the branches of their entire family tree.

The case he’d worked today was a symptom of cultural genocide. The entire family were so broken by it and the continued systemic disinterest in indigenous cases that one of them had decided to do something about it.

“I was in one of those schools today.” He says quietly as he recalls the dilapidated building, the soulless of each and every single one of those rooms. “There were numbers on the walls, that’s how they referred to the kids, not by their names but by numbers. It was a way of breaking them down, eradicating their identity, their culture…”

He trails off because it’s the cruelty of it all that gets to him. Children younger than his niece Tali being beaten, abused, starved and all of it sanctioned by the state. He knows he doesn’t have to explain hate to you, you see it on a daily basis, experience it the same way he does.

“I don’t know what to say.” You tell him. “Those places, what happened… it’s deplorable.”

“I just need to hear something good.” He whispers down the line, his voice breaking as he speaks. “I just needed to hear your voice, to remind me there’s something in this world that hasn’t been tainted by all the darkness out there, that there’s still someone fighting.”

“You’re still fighting.” You remind him, referring to his case files. “You’re still seeking justice for those people, even when no one else is, you’re still telling their stories.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough.” He says you sadly, his gaze straying to the growing pile of manilla files neatly stacked on the corner of his desk.

“It is for their families.” You tell him. “For the father who lost a daughter to trafficking, for the mother whose son was beaten to death because of his culture, it’s enough for them knowing that that animal is behind bars, that he can’t hurt anyone else. That’s what you’re fighting for Clinton, to give those people a peace of mind, to stop it from happening again.”

“You’re right.” He says with a sigh, his fingertips massaging the sore spot right between his eyes. “I know you’re right. It just gets a little much sometimes.”

“I know.” You say quietly and you do.

This isn’t the first pep talk you’ve given him. He’s done the same for you. The weight of these cases, the importance of them, they’d crush you if you let them. He has a duty to these people and he won’t be the one to let them down, not when everybody else has.

“Thank you.” He says softly. “For picking up the phone, for always knowing what I need…”

“I’m your wife Clinton.” You remind him and he can hear the smile in your voice, despite the distance that stretches between you. “I’m always here for you.”

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[barncultus]

Holy Water Bowl crafted with sacred images, holy names, and barbarous words of the Barn Cultus. The serpent coils around the lauburu a symbol of the sun and of great importance to my blessing of water. Within the serpent are the names of the seven honored tributaries to where my lake dragon dwells. Surrounding the bowl are epithets of gods and monsters whose adur is called upon in my water blessing rites.

[likethestars-chasethesun]

Regional witchy asks!!!

Because I wanted an ask game that went beyond the basics and focused more on local / regional magic. Can serve as a guide of things you may want to look into aswell!

☀️: Do you have a seasonal calendar or wheel of the year? what events mark the changes of seasons in your area?

🌙: Share one UPG you have on your local cultus.

⭐​​: Tell us about any myths or stories related to the stars in your area.

🗺️​: Do you have any sacred spots or places of power in your region? if yes, how did you pick them?

🦇: Do you know of any renowned witches in your region? what’s their story?

👻: Tell us one myth, supernatural tale or ghost story from your area!

🏠: Tell us one local tradition or superstition relating to the home & hearth

🌿: Name 3-5 local plant species and your correspondences for them

🦊: Name 3 local animal species and your correspondences for them

🌊​: Are there any superstitions, beliefs or stories regarding water (rivers, lakes, ocean, etc) in your region?

🔥: Are there any superstitions, beliefs or stories related to fire in your region?

🌪️: Are there any superstitions, beliefs or stories related to the winds in your region?

⛰️​: Are there any superstitions, beliefs or stories related to the earth / mountains in your region?

☠️: Are there any superstitions related to the Dead in your region?

⚡: What is a must-have in your altar to the local land spirits?

💐: ​ Who are the traditional land owners / indigenous peoples of your region and how do you honor them in your practice?

🦴: What are staple offerings in your practice that are native to your region / may be difficult to find elsewhere?

🔮: Name one magic tool you use that is unique to your region or is based in your area’s history!

👹: Name one local entity/spirit that you wouldn’t want to mess with and how to protect from them.

🌬️: Name one local guardian or beneficient spirit and how to ask for their aid.

🪔​: Name one local custom to protect a loved one

🎶: Name one song (or even music genre) and their connections to local beliefs, magic & witchcraft

[mauriciorg]

Cultus Lake, BC

[cryptid-quest]

Cryptid of the Day: Slal’i’kum

Description: The Chilliwack of British Colombia tell of a monster that lives in Cultus Lake, which they call Slal’i’kum. They describe it as 14ft tall, with a 4ft head and neck, a long tail, and beaver like legs. Reports stopped in the 20th century.

[semperholm]

Cultus lake in winter

[jeffpelletier]

This weekend we competed in the first edition of Conquer the Vedder, a super fun multi-sport race by @coastmtntrail in Chilliwack, BC. What a great event! Saturday was the solo, with a paddle board on Cultus Lake, followed by a gravel ride and run up and around Vedder Mountain. Sunday, I ran the run portion of the relay with @audreelafreniere and @alpineclicker who’d both done the solo the day before. We were all on tired legs but managed to squeak out a 4th place finish in the mixed division. Of course, we filmed the whole thing so stay tuned for the video. Congrats to @garyrobbins and @geoff.langford on such a successful event. I know how hard they worked to put this one together and it’s sure to be a local favourite for years to come. https://instagr.am/p/CdXN5o2uPue/

[beesofbumble]

[hiking-thoughts]

por querer arreglar las cosas por mi cuenta, sin ayuda, y sin esperarme a que me contesten terminé en una situación en la que de verdad no quería estar…

voy rumbo a Aldergrove, a dos horas (o más) de mi casa a buscar una chamarra que olvidé. Chamarra que si pierdo me va a costar $300 dólares y literalmente todo lo que tengo en este instante son $25… y son prestados lol

todo tiene que salir mal para que las cosas salgan bien, o qué chingados?

tengo ganas de marcarle a mi mamá. tengo ganas de arreglar mi vida y no tengo ni la menor idea de qué significa eso o de cómo hacerlo. tengo ganas de comprar un vuelo e irme corriendo de este lugar. hay privilegios que uno no tiene y cuesta mucho trabajo aceptarlo a veces.

quiero estar en mi casa, en mi cuarto, durmiendo una siesta con mi gato.

desde este fin de semana en cultus lake no he podido dormir bien. no sé qué me pasa

there’s a shift. something changed. algo viró y ahora todo es diferente. cómo es eso posible?

pero de verdad estoy intentando mantenerme positiva. mantener la calma. intento recordar lo que me aterriza y lo que realmente importa.

ella. mi familia. mis amigxs.

ella y el sonido de su voz que son mi base, mi guía, mi faro. ella y sus manos que cargan con ellas toda mi paz y mi lugar seguro. ella y su sonrisa que me desarma para hacerme renacer cada vez que me vuelve a sonreír.

es ella a quien quiero regresar. es ella quien quiero que vuelva a mí.

a pesar de, sigo sin poder atreverme a decirle que la amo. que la amo con todo mi ser. que no imagino a otra persona para mí, y que no quiero imaginar a nadie más.

mis noches van a ser perfectas hasta que las pase a su lado. mis mañanas se van a sentir frías hasta que amanezca con sus besos.

la he tenido tan poquito tiempo frente a mí, pero la llevo en mi corazón desde la primera carcajada que compartimos juntas.

me enamoré de ella como nunca me he enamorado de nadie. esto es lo que debo recordar. esto es lo que vale la pena

aunque estés sentada en una banca en medio de langley a las 10:37 am, con frío y lluvia, rumbo a una misión imposible, porque Derek ya me dijo que no hay nadie en el site. que no va a haber nadie en el site. mínimo hasta el sábado. hoy es jueves. pero voy a ir, voy intentar recuperar mi chamarra, y si no funciona me fumo un porro y leo mi libro de regreso a Vancouver, qué más da

cierto, me pude haber ido a Squamish con Ge a nadar. y la verdad es que me estresa también pensar en eso.

that bitch was wonna charge me for everything, y regreso al tema de.. sólo tengo $25 y tengo que comprarle comida a mi gato.

broke, far away from home (idk if i have a home actually) and with so much stress i honestly don’t know how the fuck i’m hanging on, but here i am.

and i am fucking trying