Time to reappear!

Last week was about disappearing, so to balance that out, it’s time to reappear. Our break is about over, and we’ve had a very pleasant summer. I wrote last week about the temporary need to check out, suspend membership of the human race, and it did reflect how I felt at the time of writing. However, having had the good fortune to be able to sit, read, write and reflect with few disturbances the past week, I thought that this week I’d share one or two of the great people we’ve met on our recent travels. They were previously unknown to us, but each interaction affirmed that people are, by and large, pretty decent – it seems that when we escape group or mob mentality, humans get it right…

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Safe to pitch here?

Where to start? How about Daryl, the tree surgeon we met a few weeks ago at Green Point campground on Vancouver Island? When we arrived at our designated spot, a large silver pick up full of chainsaws, ladders, ropes and climbing equipment was blocking the entrance. Daryl came over and introduced himself, explaining that he and his work partner were spotting trees, ensuring that those with weak roots, rotten cores, or loose branches weren’t about to come tumbling down on an unsuspecting camper:

“Don’t worry, we’re talking about in the next couple years. That said, don’t pitch your tent there, don’t tie a tarp on this one, or that one, and maybe not that one either!”

Looking around, we could see Daryl had been busy, with little blobs of red dye on trees that were going to require action. It was good to know he was out there keeping things safe. We stood and chatted for a while. Daryl loved his work, and he loved living on Vancouver Island.DSCN6998

“I hardly ever leave the island – why would I? My wife and I like to go kayaking and camping most weekends, and it’s all within a couple of hours of our home. It’s all here!”

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It’s all here!

Indeed it is. Daryl was knowledgeable, friendly, and not too busy to stop and say hi and talk about what he was doing. He had a good sense of humour, too. As he was leaving:

“You know how I said these trees were okay for two years or more? Well, if it gets windy, that’ll change. You might want to move your tent. Or not. It should be alright. Sleep well!”

Funny guy…

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Too early for a cold one?

When we got to Little Bear last week, we’d about unpacked our kit, and were just wondering if it was too early for a cold one when we heard voices drifting down from further up the mountain. People? At “our” cabin and on “our” mountain? Oh no – we were meant to be disappearing…

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Bozeman is down there

A young boy, about twelve or so, and his grandparents hiked into view. They waved “hi” and apologized for disturbing us. They seemed surprised the cabin was occupied. It turned out the grandfather hadn’t been up this way for more than a decade, and had wanted to show his grandson and wife the cabin, and the tremendous view across the valley. They pointed out distant mountains they’d hiked with their grandson earlier in the summer. The couple had first come to Bozeman from Minnesota in the 1960s, to work at the university:

“And we never left. We love it here, working and now retired. This area is special. Can we show our grandson the inside of your cabin?”

Well of course. The boy was completely taken with the cabin, eyes and face lit up with excitement. He was still young enough not to be too cool about old stuff. It was clear he hero-worshipped his grandparents, hanging on their every word. When we told them where we’d booked the cabin and the modest cost, the grandson looked absolutely thrilled when his grandfather suggested he might come up sometime:

“When you’re a little older, with your own friends, for a few nights?”

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Getting late

It was late in the afternoon, and they had to get back to their vehicle and head down to Bozeman. Waving farewell, they disappeared from view, but we heard what they were saying:

“Isn’t it great that old cabin is being used? What a place! We gotta come back sometime!”

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That old cabin

Isn’t it great that there are plenty of friendly folks out and about? It’s easy to be suspicious, or wary, particularly when you are relatively far from home. It’s easy to generalize (that’s why I do it!) about how humanity is going to hell in a hand basket, especially if you take all the bad news stories as the only stories out there. But that’s not always true – it’s just that the good stories don’t always get heard or the same air time. Sometimes, having a little time out to reflect can help me remember that.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

“A disappearance is in order…”

We’ve been spending the week at Little Bear cabin, Montana, disappearing for a while. Our days have been fast paced; books, small wanderings, sitting, books, sitting some more, and maybe a beer by the fire. Maybe.

One book I’ve really enjoyed is “Canoe Country” by Roy MacGregor. It’s a delightful account where MacGregor argues the canoe made Canada, and his argument is supported with tales and anecdotes about well known and less well known paddlers in Canadian history. If you’re even slightly intrigued by the canoe, you’ll like the book. Sitting outside a cabin up a mountain, it was like catnip for an old PlaidCamper. Mrs PC has been right to point out we have nowhere to store a canoe…

In a book full of memorable passages and quotes, here is one MacGregor uses that particularly appealed:

Every so often a disappearance is in order. A vanishing. A checking out. An indeterminate period of unavailability. Each person, each sane person, maintains a refuge, or series of refuges, for this purpose. A place or places, where they can, figuratively if not literally, suspend their membership in the human race.”  (John A. Murray, Colorado naturalist)

Most of the time, being a member of the human race is just fine, and I maintain that most people are well intentioned and propose no ill will to their fellows. However, the weight of bad news headlines prefacing endless appalling atrocities and scandals are apparently the only stories worth telling, and this can take a toll. Thank goodness for Little Bear, and all the other natural refuges available to those lucky enough to reach them. And perhaps there’s still time this summer, for those so inclined, to find a new place or two – maybe even traveling there by canoe…(don’t worry, Mrs PC, we’ll rent it!)

Thanks for reading, and have an enjoyable weekend!

Montana medicine

I’m writing this in a Montana motel room on a Saturday night. I know, life in the fast lane, and we sure know how to have a time of it. Actually, all is pretty good. The room overlooks the little pool, some kids are playing in it nicely, and we have a couple of beers cooling in the fridge. To be honest, it’s a bit of a selfish post this week.

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Empty road, empty head

After a relatively fraught couple of weeks, this might be just what the doctor ordered. Our trip to see friends and family in the UK was great fun, but there was a real feeling of Brexit blues about the place. Most people we know voted Remain, so their shock and upset over the outcome is still very real. Huge bewilderment and disbelief at the path Britain is now on. We haven’t lived there for fifteen years, and even from a distance we are struggling to make sense of it. It’ll take time, and tremendous optimism, to see how the situation can be improved. Perhaps I’ll write more about this later, if I can make sense of it all. We certainly left Britain feeling quite exhausted, and our Brexit incomprehension was a factor.

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Little Bear

We are now headed down to Little Bear cabin, and very happy to be on our way. I’ve spent the past week or so sitting and feeling sorry for myself in a darkened room, waiting (im)patiently for my eye to be up to the task of reading small print and taking on some sunlight. Well, finally! (although I’m not taking a retinal tear lightly…) Obviously, I’ve been a model of quiet and calm recuperation, with barely a complaint. Still, Mrs PC did seem to pack up and jump in the car with even more enthusiasm than usual…DSCN7099

Part of our journey through Montana went from Choteau to Wolf Creek on route 287. What a route! Rising and falling through rolling grasslands and golden hills, with mountains in the far distance all the way, this was a great road! It felt like essence of Montana, with hardly any other traffic, blue skies with high white clouds, a pleasant breeze in through the windows, and space, space, space. After a week indoors, and a couple of weeks before that negotiating Britain’s crowded roads, today’s journey was delightful.DSCN7103

What a relief to be able to read a road map, read road signs, roam along empty roads, and see to the far horizon. Little Bear is waiting, and we are ready to empty our heads for just a little while. Some Montana medicine, and it’ll be easy to take. Everybody should have some; even if you already feel good, you’ll feel even better!

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It’s good for you!

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

Coastal cursing

A brief post, mostly about cussedness and cursing (but not out loud, that would be wrong) because I was determined to have a lengthy hike on the Cornish coastal path, but it didn’t turn out that way. A pouty Plaidcamper…

We arrived late evening at Britain’s most southerly point, on the Lizard peninsula, Cornwall. Ma Plaidcamper is lucky enough to live here, and it is a very pleasant part of the UK, often blessed with mild temperatures and sunny skies. Those blue skies were evident our first evening, and a portent of great conditions for hiking the coastal path:

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Looking good for tomorrow…

The path hugs the rugged coastline, dropping into tiny coves, and climbing up to cliff tops above the sea. It makes for exhilarating hiking, and the view changes constantly, as each climb, twist or turn reveals new vistas. On a clear day, it is some of my favourite walking anywhere we’ve ever visited.Image 1

In wet weather, the path conditions are extremely slippery, and care has to be taken where the trail is close to the edge. And when it is blustery as well as wet, well, be very careful. Often, the advice is to wait another day.

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What wet weather?

We were there for three days, and all three were wet and blustery! It’s all about the timing! Hence the cursing – about the weather – and the cussedness – because I was going to go out, never mind the weather.

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Stay away from the edge and you’ll be fine

DSCN7043We chose a route that stayed away from the very edge, taking only well gravelled sections along the high tops, and although the track was still very muddy in many places, we were in no danger of falling off, only of falling over.

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Easy hiking, but a bit damp

DSCN7078So we didn’t get the best of weather, and the hikes we took were relatively brief, but it was still a wonderful place to be, blown along and getting great blasts of ozone charged air.DSCN7069 And if we weren’t walking, we spent time with Ma Plaidcamper, and with Mrs PC’s twin brother and family in the local pub, drying out over a pint or two. Job done, and a proper job too:DSCN7037

DSCN7067Thanks for reading! As always, please feel free to share a story or comment, and have a wonderful weekend!

(I’ve not been keeping up with all your blogs I read regularly – apologies, and I will read them in the next week or two – I’ve really missed not being able to do so. When we returned home, a routine eye exam revealed the need for some immediate corrective laser surgery, so I’ve had to limit screen time. Obviously, I’m glad it was detected, all seems well, and what passes for normal service at OldPlaidCamper will resume soon…)

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Good place for a coffee stop

Lost pathways…

…up on the fells. To be more accurate, the pathway wasn’t lost, it was pretty much where it had always been the past few hundred years or more. Far more accurately, we lost the pathway, being relatively unused to hiking across bracken and over grass uplands under heavy lowering clouds.


Lost? Us?! Just look for distinctive features. Don’t tell them, but one sheep (and sheep trail) looks much like another, as do tough little trees silhouetted against grey skies, and drystone walls are quite beautiful, but hard to differentiate (to the untrained eye!)These aren’t complaints though! We were lucky enough to be wandering around Eskdale and nearby valleys in the Lake District National Park, located in NW England. We hadn’t been there in over fifteen years, so we were excited to return. We stayed at The Woolpack Inn, and could hike any number of paths right out the door. A pub, meeting up with my brother, good food, excellent beer, and great walking?  Well, alright! And did I mention, The Woolpack is a pub? And my brother was there? We still managed earlyish starts…

A lovely area, dotted with lakes, rugged hills, farms and ancient monuments, from Roman times and before, walking trails crisscross the Lake District. Some take an hour or two to complete, many require a long day, and some several days. All are beautiful, passing along and over drystone walls, small rivers and becks, and pastures full of sheep. With high annual rainfall, it is usually wet, and can be downright boggy in places, but the payoff is a green, green, green and green lush landscape.
Walkers flock to these hills, but even in high summer it is easy enough to find quiet trails. Well, it is easy enough to find peace and quiet – sometimes the trail itself can be a little harder follow. We would be striding along confidently enough when the path was a muddy track hugging the clear contour of a hill. But when it forked into patches of bracken or seemed to disappear through bog land, then we often found ourselves having to backtrack or cast around for a (the?) more obvious route.

Not overly difficult, but with so many sheep and young lambs about, we didn’t want to cause too much disturbance. Mostly we didn’t, but every now and then a sheep would unexpectedly bleat loudly and crash away through the bracken if we got too close. Makes you jump when that happens…

Drystone walls aren’t built to delight passing walkers and prompt poets, but they are wonderful constructions, and quite impossible not to admire. Sheep farming and trying to make a living from it up on the fells is really tough (read The Shepherd’s Life by James Rebanks for an honest and uncompromising account of this life. His tale of how, over the years, he loved, loathed, and then loved farming Herdwick sheep is an unsentimental, unflinching and heartfelt history of his family’s efforts to run their farm – a great read, I promise you!) but in this landscape it is easy to see how poets, painters and photographers are tempted to romanticize…

Hopefully we will return here again and become lost once more – in the best possible way!

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!