Bob’s Camping Adventures: Waiting for the Storm at MacGregor Point

One of the things Bob loves about camping is that you never really know what kind of day Mother Nature is going to give you.

On this camping trip to MacGregor Point Provincial Park, Bob headed down to the beach expecting to spend some time beside Lake Huron, take a few photographs and enjoy the scenery. Instead, he discovered something much more interesting coming across the lake.

A storm was on its way.

The sky over Lake Huron was incredible. A huge wall of dark blue-grey clouds stretched from one side of the horizon to the other. Above it were lighter clouds, while below it the lake remained surprisingly calm. It almost looked as though someone had drawn a line across the sky.

Most people probably see clouds like these and think, Maybe it's time to head back to the campsite.

Bob thinks, This could make some great photos.

So Bob sat at the beach and waited.

There is something special about watching a storm approach across a big body of water. You can see the weather coming long before it reaches you. There are no buildings blocking the view and no busy Toronto streets competing for your attention. There is just the rocky shoreline, the water and that enormous sky.

And Bob had his camera.

As he waited, Bob walked around the beach photographing the storm from different positions. The rocks, driftwood and plants along the shoreline gave each picture a different foreground, but the star of every photograph was that sky.

One photograph even included another person standing alone on the rocky beach looking toward the water. That tiny figure really shows just how enormous the approaching weather system appeared.

Sometimes the Best Camping Weather Is Bad Weather

Sunny days are wonderful for camping, but they aren't always the most interesting days for photography.

A storm changes everything.

The colour of the lake changes. The light becomes softer. The clouds develop layers and texture. Ordinary rocks and driftwood suddenly become part of a much more dramatic landscape.

Bob has spent years walking around Toronto looking for interesting moments to photograph. Camping gives him the chance to do exactly the same thing somewhere completely different. Instead of streetcars, laneways and people on city streets, Bob can photograph beaches, forests, rocks, water and weather.

The idea is still the same:

Go for a walk, carry a camera and see what happens.

Sitting and Waiting

Photography can sometimes be about patience.

You don't always have to chase the photograph.

Sometimes you find the right place, sit down and let the photograph come to you.

That was Bob's afternoon at MacGregor Point. Sitting beside Lake Huron, watching the dark clouds slowly build across the horizon and wondering exactly when the storm was finally going to arrive.

There are certainly worse ways to spend a camping afternoon.

Of course, there is one important part of storm photography that Bob remembers:

Take the pictures while the storm is over the lake — and know when it's time to get back to the campsite!

Another camping trip, another photo walk, and another reminder that some of the best photographs happen when the weather doesn't cooperate.

Bob wasn't waiting for the storm to go away. He was waiting for the storm to become a photograph.

 

Bob the Lane way Historian: 15 Years and 1,000 Photos of Toronto

Some people photograph Toronto’s skyline. Others photograph the CN Tower, streetcars, neighbourhoods and famous buildings.

Bob photographs the places behind all of them — Toronto’s lane ways.

For the past 15 years, I have been walking Toronto with a camera and photographing its back lanes and alleys. What began as another subject to photograph on my walks slowly turned into something much bigger. My Flickr album now contains more than 1,000 photographs of Toronto lane ways.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I wasn’t just taking pictures anymore.

I was becoming a historian of Toronto’s lane ways.

The Other Side of Toronto

Lane ways show a completely different side of the city.

The front of a house or building is usually designed to be seen. The lane way is different. That's where you find old garages, wooden fences, hydro poles, tangled wires, garbage bins, loading docks, fire escapes and walls covered with graffiti.

Some lane ways are colourful and filled with murals. Others are purely practical. Some look almost forgotten.

And then there are Toronto's seasons.

I've photographed lane ways buried in snow, wet from spring rain and baking under the summer sun. I've seen old garages disappear and new ones replace them. Murals come and go. Buildings are renovated. Fences change. Condos rise at the end of lanes that once looked completely different.

A single photograph might not seem historically important when I take it.

Fifteen years later, it can be.

1,000 Photos Become a Historical Record

That is what makes reaching 1,000 lane ways photographs on Flickr special to me.

One photo of an alley is a photograph.

Ten photos are a collection.

A thousand photographs taken over 15 years start becoming a visual record of Toronto.

The photos don't necessarily show the Toronto that appears on postcards. They show the everyday city—the places people walk past without giving them a second thought.

Years from now, somebody might look at one of my photographs and notice an old garage that has disappeared, a building that was torn down, a mural that only lasted a summer or even the way hydro and telephone wires once filled the sky above Toronto's back lanes.

Things that seem ordinary today can become history surprisingly quickly.

You Never Know You're Photographing History

One of the things photography has taught me is that you don't always know which photographs will become important.

When I press the shutter, I'm usually thinking about composition, lines, colours, light and what caught my eye.

I'm not thinking, This photograph will be historically interesting someday.

But that's exactly why these pictures matter.

Toronto is constantly rebuilding itself. The big changes get photographed by everybody. The little changes often don't.

That's where my camera comes in.

For 15 years, I've been wandering into the lanes, pointing my camera down them and recording what was there on that particular day.

Bob's Toronto Is Behind the Buildings

After more than 1,000 photographs, I still haven't run out of lane ways.

That's one of the great things about Toronto. Turn off a busy street, walk behind a row of buildings and suddenly there's another Toronto waiting for you.

There might be graffiti on a garage door, an old brick wall, a strange collection of wires, a perfectly placed garbage bin or simply a long empty lane disappearing into the distance.

To most people, it's just the back way into the garage.

To a photographer, it's a story.

And after 15 years and more than 1,000 photographs, I think I've earned another title besides photographer and photo walker:

Bob — Historian of Toronto's Lane ways.

The best part?

The project isn't finished.

As long as Toronto keeps changing, I'll keep walking the lane ways with my camera.

Because today's ordinary Toronto is tomorrow's history.

Lane Way Album

 

There are a lot of things Bob likes to photograph on his Toronto photo walks—people, old buildings, fire trucks, construction workers and all the little things that make the city interesting. But one subject has kept catching his eye over the years: Toronto’s laneways.

Whenever Bob is out on a photo walk, he is always looking down the next laneway.

You never really know what you are going to find.

Some laneways are clean and colourful. Others have old garages, weathered fences, graffiti, garbage bins, bicycles and cars squeezed into tiny parking spaces. In the winter they can be covered in snow and ice, while in the summer they can almost disappear behind trees and gardens.

They aren't usually the Toronto you see on postcards.

That is exactly why Bob likes photographing them.

Over the years, Bob started putting his laneway photographs into a collection on Flickr. One photo became ten. Ten became a hundred. Bob just kept walking, exploring and taking pictures.

And now Bob has reached a milestone:

1,000 Toronto laneway photos!

When Bob started taking these pictures, he wasn't thinking about reaching 1,000. He was simply documenting what he saw while walking around Toronto with his camera.

But when you put 1,000 photographs together, they become something more.

They are a photographic record of another side of Toronto.

Laneways change. Garages get torn down. New houses and laneway suites are built. Graffiti disappears under a fresh coat of paint. Old fences are replaced. Businesses close. Trees grow. Even the garbage bins seem to move around every time Bob comes back.

A photograph that seems ordinary today might become interesting ten or twenty years from now.

That is one of the things Bob has learned from years of photo walking. You don't always have to search for the spectacular photograph. Sometimes you just have to photograph what is there.

Toronto's laneways are part of the city too.

They are the back doors, garages, shortcuts and working spaces behind the streets that everybody knows. Walking through them can show you a completely different Toronto from the one you see from a car, streetcar or subway.

Reaching 1,000 laneway photographs also says something about photo walking itself.

Bob has spent years walking Toronto with a camera, turning down streets simply because they looked interesting and wandering into laneways just to see where they went. Each photograph represents another little piece of those walks.

So is Bob finished photographing Toronto's laneways now that he has reached 1,000?

Not a chance.

There is always another laneway around the next corner.

And Bob still has a camera.

 

A Photo Walk That Helps Toronto’s Economy

Sometimes when I lead a Toronto Photo Walk, I think about all the photographs we are going to take, the streets we are going to explore and the people we are going to meet. But after leading our latest walk, I started thinking about something else: we are also putting money back into Toronto’s economy.

We started the morning at a local coffee shop. More than 25 people showed up to begin the walk. That is a pretty good crowd to suddenly walk through the door looking for coffee, tea, breakfast or a snack!

For a coffee shop, having 25-plus customers arrive together can mean a nice little boost in business. There are drinks being made, food being sold and employees working behind the counter. It may not seem like a huge economic event, but multiply that kind of activity across Toronto every weekend and it starts to add up.

Then we headed out with our cameras.

One of the things I have always enjoyed about leading Toronto Photo Walks is that we don't just photograph Toronto—we explore Toronto. We walk along streets that some of us might otherwise never visit. We notice old buildings, new construction, neighbourhood stores, signs, people and all the little details that make Toronto interesting.

And photographers have a habit of coming back.

Someone sees an interesting restaurant and thinks, I should try that place sometime. Someone else discovers a store they didn't know existed. Another person finds a neighbourhood they want to photograph again.

That is another way a photo walk can help the city.

Eventually, as every good Toronto Photo Walk should, we arrived at the pub.

Twenty people came into the pub for lunch.

Now think about that from the pub owner's point of view. Twenty people ordering lunches, soft drinks, coffee and, for some of us, a beer. There are servers taking orders, cooks preparing meals and suppliers providing the food and beverages.

That spending doesn't simply stop at the cash register. It becomes part of the much larger Toronto hospitality economy.

The City of Toronto says food services alone account for thousands of jobs supported by visitor spending. Toronto's visitor economy welcomed 28.2 million visitors in 2025, who spent $9.1 billion and generated about $13.5 billion in total economic impact.

Of course, our little photo walk isn't responsible for billions of dollars!

But it works on the same basic principle.

People get out of their homes. They take transit or drive into a neighbourhood. They buy coffee. They walk around. They discover businesses. They stop for lunch. They may buy something along the way, and they may return another day.

Even coffee shops can act as neighbourhood anchors, connecting customers with other nearby businesses. Research released in 2026 found that Toronto businesses often share regular customers with neighbouring businesses, illustrating how spending can spread through a local commercial area.

So when I looked at our group photo and thought about 25-plus people starting at the coffee shop and 20 people finishing at the pub, I realized that Toronto Photo Walks are about more than photography.

We are supporting local businesses.

We are bringing people into Toronto neighbourhoods.

We are helping restaurants, pubs and coffee shops.

We are discovering places that we may return to later.

And along the way, we are making friends and photographing our city.

I have always said that one of the best ways to discover Toronto is to put a camera around your neck and start walking.

Now I can add one more thing:

Every time we do it, we're putting a little something back into the city we're photographing.

Not bad for a bunch of people walking around Toronto with cameras.

And naturally, we finished at the pub. Some Toronto Photo Walk traditions are too important to change.

 

I don’t want any of my cameras to feel lonely.

I have quite a few old Sony cameras sitting around the house. Some people might look at them and wonder why I still keep them, never mind why I still take them out and use them.

My answer is pretty simple: I don’t want any of my cameras to feel lonely.

Over the years I have collected Sony cameras like the NEX-3, a3000, a5000 and a6000. They are all getting old by digital-camera standards, but every one of them still takes pictures. So why should they spend the rest of their lives sitting on a shelf?

I like to rotate them.

One day I might take the little NEX-3 downtown. Another day the a3000 gets to come along. Then it might be the a5000 or a6000. It is almost like taking a different old friend along on my photo walk.

Every camera also makes me photograph a little differently.

The NEX-3 reminds me how simple photography can be. The a3000 has that traditional camera shape and feels completely different in my hands. The a5000 is small and easy to carry around Toronto. The a6000 is still a great little camera when I want something a bit more capable.

Do newer cameras have better auto focus, more megapixels and all sorts of new technology? Of course they do.

But that doesn't mean my old cameras suddenly forgot how to take photographs.

That is one of the things I enjoy about photography. I don't have to own the newest camera to enjoy walking around Toronto looking for an interesting person, building, reflection or little piece of everyday life.

Sometimes taking out an old camera is actually more fun. There isn't the pressure of carrying around an expensive new piece of equipment. I already know the camera. I know its little quirks. I can just walk, look around and take pictures.

And there is something else about using old cameras.

They have memories attached to them.

When I pick up one of these cameras, I can remember some of the places it has been with me and some of the photographs I have taken with it. A camera eventually becomes more than a collection of electronics. It becomes part of your photography story.

So I refuse to let one camera become the favourite while all the others sit forgotten on the shelf.

When I look at my collection, I sometimes imagine them saying:

"Hey Bob, you took the a6000 out last week. When is it my turn?"

Don't worry.

Everybody gets a turn.

As long as my old Sony cameras keep working, I'll keep taking them on photo walks. They may be old. They may not have the latest technology.

But they are certainly not going to be lonely.

 

Bob Finds the Camera Club Model

You never know what you’re going to find when you walk into a camera store in Toronto.

I was wandering around the store looking at cameras—especially some of the older digital cameras—when I suddenly spotted somebody who looked ready for the next camera club photo shoot.

There he was: the Camera Club Model.

This guy was prepared for everything.

He had a Canon DSLR hanging from his shoulder, a little compact digital camera around his neck, another old camera hanging from his vest, a camera bag, photographer’s vest, beads, and even a Buffalo Sabres toque. Then, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything, he had what looked like a small action camera mounted right on his head.

I had to laugh.

Most photographers spend a lot of time deciding which camera to take with them. This fellow apparently solved the problem by taking all of them.

Looking at him also reminded me just how much photography has changed. Hanging around his neck were cameras from different generations, from little compact digital cameras to a DSLR. Today everybody talks about the newest mirrorless camera, autofocus systems, huge megapixel counts and the latest lenses.

But here was a reminder that photographers have been taking interesting pictures with all kinds of cameras for years.

Of course, being Bob, I couldn't walk past without taking a photo.

Maybe our camera club has finally found the perfect model. He doesn't move, he doesn't complain, he can hold the same pose all day, and best of all, he brings his own cameras!

The only problem might be getting him out of the camera store for a photo walk.

Just another unexpected find while Bob goes looking around the camera stores of Toronto.

 

Bob’s Camera Store Treasure Hunt

There is something about walking into a real camera store that still gets me excited.

On my latest visit, I wasn’t really interested in finding the newest camera with the most megapixels, the fastest auto focus, or the latest AI features. Bob was on a treasure hunt for old Sony digital cameras.

And a camera store filled with used equipment is a pretty good place to go hunting.

The walls and counters were packed with cameras and lenses. There were newer Sony, Canon and Fuji film cameras sitting beside equipment that had already lived a photographic life with somebody else. There were shelves of lenses, flashes, studio lights, camera bags and even colourful old camera straps hanging from the ceiling.

But I kept looking for the older digital cameras.

One shelf really caught my attention. Sitting in a row were those little compact digital cameras that almost everybody seemed to have before smartphones took over. Some of them probably haven't taken a picture in years.

Today people might look at them and wonder why anybody would want one.

I look at them and wonder what kind of pictures I could take with one.

That is the fun of old digital cameras.

They don't have to be perfect. They don't need 40 or 60 megapixels. They don't need incredible autofocus or a computer inside them deciding what the photograph should look like. Sometimes an old Sony with a small sensor and a few simple controls is all you need to have some fun.

I already know that from using my older Sony cameras. There is something enjoyable about taking an old camera downtown and seeing what it can still do.

Then I found another section that really took me back in time.

There was film everywhere — Kodak, Ilford and all kinds of different black-and-white and colour films. Nearby were developing chemicals, filters and other darkroom supplies. It was a reminder that photography existed long before memory cards and computer screens.

And then there was the pile of really old cameras.

Now that was a photograph waiting to happen.

Old movie cameras, box cameras, rangefinders, flashes and cameras from generations ago were all mixed together. Looking at that pile made me think about how many different ways people have made photographs over the years.

Photography keeps changing.

Film gave way to digital. Compact digital cameras gave way to smartphones. Mirrorless cameras became the big thing. Now cameras are getting smarter and smarter.

But that doesn't mean the old cameras suddenly stopped being cameras.

An old Sony digital camera can still take a photograph.

And sometimes having limitations makes photography more interesting. Instead of worrying about having the newest equipment, you start looking harder at the light, the people and the story in front of you.

So while everybody else might be looking through the glass case at the latest expensive camera, don't be surprised if you find Bob over in the used section.

I'll be looking at some forgotten little Sony camera and thinking:

"I wonder what Toronto would look like through that?"

That might be the best part about visiting a camera store.

You never know when somebody else's old camera might become Bob's next photographic adventure.

 

Deb Makes a Call While Bob Sticks With an Old Camera

Sometimes a trip to a camera store is about more than buying a new camera.

I was in Henry’s Camera Store with my friend Deb, looking around at all the new cameras and lenses. There is always something new to tempt a photographer—more megapixels, faster autofocus, better screens and cameras that seem to do just about everything for you.

While I was checking out all the latest equipment, Deb found something much more interesting: an old-fashioned telephone.

Of course, she had to pick it up and make a “call.”

I couldn't resist taking her photo. The old phone, the movie posters in the background and Deb holding the receiver made it look like she had stepped back in time. It was one of those fun little moments that makes a good photograph.

The funny part was that while I was surrounded by thousands of dollars' worth of brand-new camera equipment, I took the photo with my old Sony a3000.

And I was perfectly happy with it.

It reminded me that photographers can spend a lot of time thinking about the next camera. We look at the newest models and wonder if a better sensor, faster autofocus or some new feature will suddenly make our photographs better.

But there I was, using an older camera and getting exactly the photograph I wanted.

The Sony a3000 may not be the newest camera on the shelf, but it still works. I know how to use it, I enjoy carrying it, and most importantly, it was in my hands when the picture happened.

There is something amusing about that photograph when you think about it: Deb was using an old telephone, and Bob was using an old camera—while standing in a store full of the newest technology.

Maybe newer isn't always better.

Sometimes the best camera is simply the old one you already have with you.

Keep shooting. The photograph matters more than the camera.

 

The Real Heart of Black Creek Pioneer Village

One of the best parts of spending a day at Black Creek Pioneer Village isn't the old buildings.

It's the people.

Everywhere I walked there was someone bringing the 1800s back to life. They weren't just dressed in period clothing—they knew the history, understood the trades, and loved sharing their knowledge with visitors. Since 2024, the site has officially been known as The Village at Black Creek, reflecting a broader and more inclusive approach to telling the history of the Toronto region, but many of us still remember it fondly as Black Creek Pioneer Village.

I spent as much time talking with the workers as I did taking photographs.

The harness maker patiently explained the tools hanging from every beam in his workshop. Looking around the room, I realized every strap, buckle, and piece of leather once had to be made by hand. Standing there, you gain a new appreciation for the craftsmanship that kept horses—and the people who depended on them—working every day.

In the general store, another interpreter welcomed visitors with a smile, making the shop feel as if customers had just stepped in from a dusty country road. Every shelf held another story waiting to be told.

The baker worked quietly beside the warm oven, preparing bread just as it would have been done nearly two centuries ago. Watching someone work without modern appliances reminds you how much patience and skill everyday life once required.

The printer fascinated me as ink rollers moved across type that had been carefully set by hand. Newspapers weren't created with a mouse click—they were built one letter at a time.

The tinsmith hammered metal with practiced precision, shaping useful household items from flat sheets of tin. Every strike of the hammer echoed through the shop, sounding much the same as it would have in the 1800s.

Even outside, interpreters demonstrated everyday tasks, answered endless questions, and never seemed to tire of sharing their enthusiasm. They aren't simply employees—they're storytellers who make history feel real.

As a photographer, these people are wonderful subjects. Their clothing, expressions, and dedication create portraits that feel authentic rather than staged. But the photographs only tell part of the story.

The conversations are what stay with me.

History museums can preserve buildings, furniture, and artifacts. But it takes passionate people to breathe life into them. Without these interpreters, the Village would simply be a collection of old structures. With them, it becomes a living community where visitors can experience what life was really like in early Ontario.

I came home with hundreds of photographs, but I also came home with something even more valuable—a renewed appreciation for the people who keep history alive, one conversation at a time.

 

One Building That Never Moved

There are days when photography gives you more than just pictures. Sometimes it gives you a story.

I was over on Centre Island with my camera, enjoying one of the best views of the Toronto skyline. No matter how many times I make the ferry trip, the skyline always looks different. New towers seem to appear every year, cranes are constantly reshaping the horizon, and it feels like Toronto reinvents itself every time I visit.

As I was taking these photos, I met a friendly older gentleman who stopped to admire the view. We started chatting about how much the skyline has changed over the decades.

Then he pointed toward the waterfront and said something that made me look at the skyline in a completely different way.

"You know," he said, "the only original building you can still recognize in that skyline is the Queens Quay Terminal."

I looked back through my viewfinder and realized he was right.

Everything else around it seems to have grown taller, shinier, and more modern. Condo towers now dominate the skyline. Office buildings have risen where there were once open spaces. Even the city's famous silhouette has changed dramatically over the years.

Yet the Queens Quay Terminal is still there, quietly holding its place on the waterfront, almost hidden among the forest of glass towers. It has become a reminder of Toronto's past while the city continues racing toward its future.

That's one of the things I enjoy most about photography. A photo freezes a moment in time, but sometimes it's the conversation behind the photo that gives it meaning.

Without meeting that gentleman, I probably would have gone home thinking I had simply captured another skyline. Instead, I came home with a new appreciation for just how much Toronto has changed—and for one building that has stayed to tell the story.

Sometimes the best part of a photo walk isn't the photograph.

It's the person you meet along the way who helps you see the picture differently.

And the next time I photograph the Toronto skyline from Centre Island, I'll be looking for the Queens Quay Terminal first, because now I know it's one of the few links still connecting today's skyline with the Toronto of years gone by.