I'm such a wimp, I can never just plunge in to any place. Even a wide open door I will pass by, and return to, and pass by, two or three or four times before working up the nerve to walk through.

There is this big yard on the north arm of the Fraser River that is piled with mountains of wood chips. I don't know what they do here -- make wood chips, I guess. Last time I passed by here, the gates were open. I read all the signs carefully, and none of them said "Do not trespass." Still, I didn't have the guts to go in. After all, if someone left this gate open, someone must BE here ...

Today I had the guts to go in.

I biked in and made a brief circuit, half looking for someone to ask permission to take some photos, and half just pretending to look for someone. There was a truck parked by the gate, but no one inside the truck, nor any sign of anyone in the compound. I locked my bike up outside, then strolled in, holding my camera in front of me, more like a badge than a tool. (I was too panicked to take out my tripod.)

I went inside one of the buildings, or structures (they looked to me like big woodchipping machines), but I didn't even explore that fully, because my imagination kept informing me that the owner of the truck was in that room, or in that room, or just beyond that window, so I probably didn't want to go in there, or pass by there. How startled and uncomfortable we'd both be if I burst in on him!

Panic shot.

Another eternal debate: Keep exploring till you've seen everything, and therefore pretty much guarantee bumping into someone; or quit while you're ahead? But when are you ahead?

Occasionally tiny avalanches of wood chips made a pleasant pattering sound.

Back at home, comfy and rational, I am able to put things in perspective: I wasn't doing anything very wrong. I can play dumb and harmless very convincingly. (Actually, I am dumb and harmless.) Being uncomfortable or making people uncomfortable is not a big deal. Even being yelled at is not very serious.

But I'm not very rational when I'm exploring. I'm a wimp.

On my way home, I nerved myself to "squeeze" through the loosely chained gate of this plant.

First, however, I had to take three or four good looks at the gap, and three or four good looks at the one truck parked in one remote corner of the property. After reasoning that no one would lock themselves inside the parking lot with a padlock facing the outside of the gate, I concluded that, though the plant was making a lot of hissy clanky noise, there really probably wasn't anyone on site.

That made this a more comfortable exploration.

All the locked doors made it a disappointing and brief one.