Wishing you all a bright, healthy, and happy 2016!
All the best!
Adam
Author: plaidcamper
I am a would be outdoorsman - that is if I had more time, skills and knowledge. When I can, I love being outdoors, just camping, hiking, snowboarding, xc skiing, snowshoeing, paddling a canoe or trying something new. What I lack in ability, I make up for in enthusiasm and having a go. I'd never really survive for long out there in the wild, but I enjoy pretending I could if I had to...
A holiday story and a picture…
…to raise a shiver! I know it is meant to be a time of goodwill to all, and I sincerely hope it is (beyond today), but sometimes, scary things happen. Anyway, a little gift in the form of a true story:
Last December, we were snowshoeing near Lake Louise, slogging up a short but steep trail in an attempt to shake off the sluggishness of a Boxing Day cabin morning. Decent snowfall the previous couple of days left everything looking just right – a blanket of brilliant white. But the light accentuates the dark, and a forest isn’t always a welcoming place. Nothing seemed to stir, and all was quiet, yet we were disquieted, with a nagging sense of being watched. We didn’t see anyone else on the trail, but were we alone? It felt like there were eyes on us…
I hope we never see anything like this ever again. Even now, a year later, I shudder at the memory. We are going to be super-vigilant tomorrow, only too aware of what might be out there on the trail…
Have a wonderful day, and a pleasant weekend! Thanks for being brave enough to read this. As ever, please feel free to comment or share a (seasonal) story, and keep your guy ropes secure.
Holiday spirit…
All time favourite wilderness movies (#3 in an occasional series…)
How about a movie recommendation that doesn’t have a holiday theme? Holiday movies can be a bit hit and miss – do you really want another turkey? For the record, I do enjoy “It’s a Wonderful Life” and “Die Hard” this time of year. But let’s imagine we’d like a great movie without a holiday connection to enjoy, and allow us to escape – for a little while – from the festivities. (Not saying you want/need to escape, but just in case…)
This is a great teaser isn’t it? No? I’ve stretched what makes a wilderness movie here, and would like to recommend a movie that at least 15 people, (possibly one to two more), have seen. It really set the box office on fire – not that that is necessarily a sign of quality. The movie? “Slow West” (dir.John Maclean, A24, 2015). Huh? Slow West? Never heard of it! Slow West? That’s a terrible movie title! Yup, probably contributed to a lack of excitement about seeing it. Awful title, marvellous movie. Honestly, that title is by far the worst aspect of the movie.
It’s a recent western, and I’m making the argument many westerns are also wilderness movies if the director has taken the time to include interesting outdoor locations. Most westerns include sections set in the big outdoors; I think of them as prototypical road movies, with horses instead of cars. Slow West is no exception, being beautifully shot in what we are informed is Colorado sometime after the Civil War. Big skies, big mountains, rivers, hill country, and grassy plains all figure in the movie. Western staples? You bet! Yet, there is something off kilter about the rugged scenery. It is familiar, though…
Turns out the movie was filmed in New Zealand! This explains the familiar unfamiliarity. Or is that the unfamiliar familiarity? I found that to be part of the fun and appeal of the movie, a slight oddness in setting that extends to an oddness in character, story and photography. You know you are watching a western, but with delightfully subtle subversions of the genre. Slow West pays respect to the conventions, then plays with audience expectations, and that was most enjoyable.
Like many a western predecessor, the plot is slight – a tale of love, revenge, mixed motives, and shady characters encountered on a difficult journey. There is redemption for some, loss for others, and a neat resolution that is not necessarily what you might expect, but makes for a satisfying conclusion.
The acting, particularly of the leads Michael Fassbender (weary gunslinger) and Kodi Smitt-McPhee (an innocent abroad), is strong, and there is a fine assortment of well played characters encountered throughout the movie. The violence is realistic, as expected, but less expected is the way the movie confronts the consequences of violence. This is not a celebration of gunplay – the final shootout is certainly handled carefully, and is also quite unusual. Perhaps that is the real pleasure of this little movie, the quirky and unexpected wrapped up in familiar packaging. Not too bad if you’d like a different movie this holiday season.
There are so many great westerns out there! The Searchers, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, Johnny Guitar, The Outlaw Josey Wales, Unforgiven, any Sam Peckinpah western – these are all favourites of mine. Chances are you’ve seen those, so I chose Slow West instead. Quirky, not turkey. I think it stands up as a decent recent example…
Thanks for taking the time to read this. As ever, please feel free to make a comment or share a story. Were you one of the few to see Slow West? Do you have a favourite (holiday) wilderness or western movie recommendation? Thanks, pardners, and keep your guy ropes secure.
A week in the life of old PlaidCamper (and how I’m feeling my age)
Don’t panic, this isn’t turning into FaceBook or anything – but do find something else to do if you read the title and thought “No, he wouldn’t!” because yes, I would.
Not a strong narrative thread, simply how the past week went and why I’m so tired – in a good way.
Thursday evening and Friday morning: parent/student/teacher interviews! Time well spent, and often invaluable for students and parents, but listening to myself speak for eight hours on educational matters is hard – did I really mean to say that? Was I too honest? What was I saying at the start of this sentence? Are they asleep?
Once the Friday interviews wrapped up, it was into the car and out to the mountains for some snowshoeing and snowboarding. A cosy cabin in Field, about twenty minutes from the ski hill, meant an easy early start Saturday for the best of the first turns. Except that only happens if I remember to set the alarm. Old and tired without an alarm means an unexpected lie in. Oh well, must have needed it, and we took a short woodland hike instead through pretty woods above the cabin. Lots of creaking; I think it was the trees.
Sunday, alarm set, and a good early start to Louise! The lift lineups were nonexistent all day, and conditions were pretty pleasant on the slopes given poor snowfall the previous few days and strangely warm weather. Grey and overcast, with the mountains looming and slightly menacing without strong sunlight, but striking anyway. We searched for patches of blue, and found one at the top of the world. It didn’t last, but we weren’t blue with so much mountain to play in.
Back to Calgary Sunday night, and packing hurriedly for two days in Kananaskis country with a group of students. An outdoor challenge camp designed to develop collaborative skills and boost esteem, as well as encourage a love for the mountain environment. And if they have a laugh or two at their teacher failing to keep pace, then all the better…for them at least. Hiking, climbing, clambering, and singing (not me, not the last one, that would be cruel…)
Tuesday evening, hand over the camp students to a colleague, and back to the city and hurriedly unpack and find clean(ish) clothing for three days of learning to ski/snowboard with grade 5/6 students at Canada Olympic Park. So you’ve had hardly any sleep the previous couple days – those bunks at camp aren’t luxurious or quite full size – but you said you really wanted to go to Kananaskis and be part of the learn to ski program, so stop your whining old boy.
Have you ever tried to “assist” with teaching snowboarding to forty enthusiastic children? You will laugh, you might cry, you will be nimble and in fear for your life, and you will discover you aren’t as young as you once were. When your most gullible student asks “are you sure you’re 29 years old, Mr. Plaidcamper?”, the game is almost up.
What a week! I complained (to myself), I laughed (a lot), I pulled new muscles (still have some), I wobbled (in many different ways), and I had a blast. To observe how students love to be outside, love to be challenged, and often don’t even have a (formal?) sense that they’re in a learning environment when it is outdoors, is wonderful. The perseverance and problem solving skills they develop are transferable to other life settings, sometimes explicitly, but often implicitly, and they’ll have an enormous reserve to draw on when faced with necessary adversity later in their learning. It was an exhausting week, (and I couldn’t do it every week), but tired as I am, I suspect it keeps me young at heart. Why, I feel 29(ish)!
Thanks for reading, please feel free to comment or share a story, and keep your guy ropes secure.
Snowshoe shuffle
It’s the latest dance craze, kids…
No, it’s not. Last time out in the mountains, there was so much fresh snow we decided to put on our snowshoes and take a little wander.
If I’d bothered to check the overnight temperatures, I wouldn’t have left the snowshoes in the car. But I hadn’t, so I did. Great. It was so much fun trying to strap unforgivingly stiff fasteners and clips over my clumpy boots with numb fingers. Trying to look balanced, leaning nonchalantly against a tree and reaching down and behind to fix and tighten the back strap. Of course I intended to hop left, left, left, and then right, right, right back to the tree. It’s a method. Cursing? No, that was singing, you misheard me – they were the words to go with the snowshoe shuffle.
Early season deep snow and raring to go! Raring? Might have had to stretch out a cramp or two, ease the legs back into it, and then off we go, relearning the wider stance and slightly exaggerated strides, over the railway tracks and down into the woods. (Every time we cross the tracks in snowshoes, I can’t help remembering the scene from “Stand By Me” where the boys are crossing a wooden bridge and a train comes around the corner. Not helpful…)
The woods were silent, snow hushed and pristine; white sheets marked with tracks left by snowshoe hares, and a few bird prints, although we didn’t see or hear either. The air was still, but every now and then clumps of snow would fall from tree limbs where there was just enough sun heat to prompt the drop. As we shuffled through the trees, the faint sounds of the creek and river rushing, splashing, and attempting to outrun winter could be heard.
We emerged at the confluence, enjoying the bumps, lumps and humps of a landscape putting on the first layers of seasonal finery. Fresh, textured and intriguing, almost impossible-looking in places. An early winter wonderland, enough to cause a little jig, and maybe I fell, but the landing was soft and powdery, and you could only laugh at it all.
The Bow doesn’t always freeze over, but Baker Creek will. Too early yet, but the signs were there. We saw the beginnings of a frosty, blue-white waterfall where the waters meet; icy, beautiful and brief, soon to be frozen over and buried under snow. It was something to see, and strange to think that when we return in a week or two, we’ll be able to snowshoe over the top of the creek, and closer to, if not over and above the banks of the Bow as winter takes hold.
Our snowshoe shuffle was brief, but an exciting and enticing reminder of the outdoor delights in store for the next few months. Now, if only I can remember to defrost the snowshoes before putting them on next time…
Thanks for taking the time to read this. As ever, please feel free to share a story or leave a comment, and keep your guy ropes secure.
PS As I was writing this, the song “Bad Boy Boogie” by AC/DC came into my head, only my brain changed it to “Snowshoe Shuffle” – showing my age, questionable musical tastes, odd neural pathways, and now I’m off to find the CD. Mrs PlaidCamper will be pleased.
The Moose Meadow Moose! (Animal magic…)
“Why is it called Moose Meadow? We never see a moose in Moose Meadow!” whines a pouty PlaidCamper every time we head to and from Louise along the Bow Valley Parkway. That PlaidCamper, always asking silly questions. Just because he never sees a moose…
I saw a moose in Moose Meadow! I believe it may be the moose of Moose Meadow. Last Sunday, a little before noon, a splendid sunny day, crisp and clear, and there he was! A safe distance from the road, right in the middle of the meadow, chewing contentedly, and far enough away that we weren’t bothering him by stopping and watching for a few minutes. It made our day.
I snapped a few grainy shots, and these are the clearest – the most moose-like of the bunch.
It really is quite obvious why this place is called Moose Meadow – who would question that? It’s a beautiful patch. In fact, if you ever get the chance to travel along the Bow Valley Parkway, take it. Running parallel to the Trans-Canada, it is the slower and quieter (off season) way to connect Banff and Lake Louise. You might even see a moose!
A very brief post this week – I mostly wanted to share this little highlight from last weekend. Before finishing, and as we’re on an animal magic trip, I’ll go back to last week. The picture of the wolf or coyote that ended the previous post prompted a couple of questions, so here’s the story…
We were heading down a quiet run at Louise, our first turns of the day. I dropped left into a steep slope and stopped as fast as I could, digging in my heel edge and using my backside as a brake (pretty effective anchor there), because a large coyote (wolf?) was trotting across the slope, right to left. As I sat down, and Mrs PlaidCamper joined me, the wolf (coyote?) halted and stared up at us. Hmm. Now what?
Fortunately, he decided we weren’t very interesting, and turned away and headed towards the wooded fringe of the run. Quite sensibly, Mrs PlaidCamper proceeded down the hill, and I started to follow but couldn’t resist peeking into the trees as I passed the spot the coyote had disappeared. He was still there! Not very sensibly, I drifted past and below as slowly as possible, toe edge in, reaching for my phone and taking the indistinct pictures you see here. Not at all the right thing to do, but Snowboard PlaidCamper isn’t the smartest fellow…
Animal magic – you never can tell what you might see or when, and the surprises are always a delight!
Thanks for reading, and, as ever, please feel free to comment or share a story, and keep your guy ropes secure.
Snow pictures – happiness and equilibrium
For many of us this past week, our determination to view the world positively has been tested, but perhaps a solution to this problem can be found outdoors.
I smile on a snowboard – it may look like a grimace, but honestly, that is a smile. I love how fellow riders and skiers all appear to be happy. Faces are lit up, stories are shared in lift lineups, and the mood of the day is upbeat. I know there are risks and accidents, and some can be severe, but life is about risk and exploring boundaries (without trampling over your fellows along the way), so enjoy it as best you can while you can. If that means being an elderly(ish) snowboarder, well, off you go!
A bit of a selfish post here, so I’ll keep it brief. A weekend in the mountains riding my board at Louise – fresh air, good company, a cabin at the end of the day – definitely a happy place!
We are all connected
I wasn’t planning on writing about our Montreal trip again, at least not quite so soon, but recent events compelled me to do so.
One of the strongest impressions I had of Montreal was how very French it is. That might sound a little silly – of course it seems French, most people there speak French. What I mean is that I’d expected Montreal to be a large Canadian city that happened to have French as a first language. Instead, I discovered Montreal to be a very French city that happens to be in Quebec and Canada. I’d never before appreciated the French identity of this part of Canada. I’d read about the nation within a nation, but without a very clear understanding. I understand it a little better now. Experience is a great teacher.
Although this was our first trip to Quebec, I found Montreal to be strangely familiar. The advertising billboards, the waft of cigarettes, the music spilling out of cafes, some of the restaurants and cafes themselves, these are all reminiscent of some of the cities we’d enjoyed during our four years in France. Even the architecture of older buildings and the cobbled paving stones echoed old France. In the right light and with a bit of a squint, we could have been promenading in Perigueux or Paris, or strolling a boulevard in Bordeaux.
Bordeaux! A fine city, a large and attractive port, and not too far from where we lived back then. Parts of Vieux Montreal down by the St Laurent river could have doubled for Bordeaux. Hardly surprising historically, but still a pleasant surprise for us, provoking a pang for our time in France.
We are all connected. It might be through memory, history, family, friendship, travel, or simply through digital devices, but that connection is there. Naive I know, but wouldn’t it be something if we could appreciate these connections, promote them positively, and enjoy our sense of collective community? We have so much to learn from each other! Our connections to each other are far more relevant, valuable and human than our differences (I love our differences – think about it, we’d be boring without them – and they should be celebrated and respected) Oh, my naivety…
I far prefer to be out in wild landscapes than large cities, most likely because of the quiet and contrast. It’s not an escape as such, more a need for a different experience. They’re all real parts of my world, with the natural world a nose ahead for me. Yet I am happy enough to live in and visit cities where there is a vibrant and generally peaceful multicultural community. Places where differences are treasured, and the valuing of these differences binds the community, making it better for all.
I have to say that after recent events in a place we called home, it is hard to think positively, but we lose so much if we don’t. How I feel just now is hardly unique, and goodness knows, there are many experiencing far worse, and at first hand, all over the world. What a tragedy that these events might be what connect so many of us…
My Montreal morning…merveilleux!
Quebec! La belle province! Montreal! Don’t worry, this won’t be written in French, or my butchered version of French, that would be too cruel for lovers of language. This week, I’m writing an urban piece, but it has a flavour of the outdoors about it. So bear with me, and we’ll take a trip…on y va!
OldPlaidCamper 