It’s Canada Day next Wednesday, a day we like to stop and think about how fortunate we are to be living and working where we do.
For almost everyone, the year so far – are we only six months in?! – has been challenging, so it’s good to pause and be positive.
Canada is very far from perfect, but I choose to believe that it’s a nation trying to progress towards greater inclusivity, aiming to ensure what comes next for all Canadians is an improvement on the past. Personally, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, in good times or tougher times, and I’m looking forward to Wednesday. Peering ahead, I’d like to think every day is Canada Day for all who live here.
So if you’re Canadian, know a Canadian, will become a Canadian, have visited Canada, would like to visit Canada, or you’re a big fan of maple syrup, then happy Canada Day to you!
Thanks for reading, and enjoy your weekend!
All accompanying photographs were taken this week when I was at work – what a spot to work in! (Not the beer photo – that was after work!)
We had a pretty good road trip back to the coast last week. It was strange to be traveling in these socially distant times, with caution and uncertainty over new protocols very evident. What was lovely was how considerate people were – at gas stations, the hotel, and on the ferry. Kind, friendly, creating space, and aware of each other, maybe this can continue post-pandemic?
Anyway, rather than write a heavy-on-boring-details account of our Trans Canada Highway drive, I thought I’d describe it through a set of song titles from the playlist. All tracks are by my new favourite band you won’t have heard of, Gays in the Military. They hail from the PNW and here are the songs, most found on the album “Your Devoted Son, Ned”:
1. Coquihalla Highway High
2. Runaway Lane
3. Drooping Hemlock Tip (huh?)
4. ManBaby in Orange/Unmoored
5. Taking A Knee
7. Queen of Alberni
8. Duke of Duke Point
9. Cargo Pants Capacity
10. Sovereignty/Taking Back Control (How do you like me now?) feat. Oops, I’m A Unicorn
11. French Roast Alarm
12. Green and Blue feat. West Coast Pale
13. Bonus track, Chicken Kibble Again? feat. Sad Mutt
So there you have it, a new band, some new songs, and they all seemed to fit with being on the road last week. I don’t know, does this seem likely?
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
PS Alright, I’ll come clean. When the ferry unmoored from the Tsawassen dock, my own mind untethered from reality as I sat in the sun watching the mainland recede. An unhinged mind, free from the shackles of whatever was shackling it, came up with a make believe band and their first album. If they were real, they’d be huge, in an understated indie scene way. I’m thinking a modern day sound influenced by Joni Mitchell, Leonard Cohen, and Bob Dylan, with a hint of plaid commentary and I’ll play the drums. Sounds good, eh? How modest of me. If you’d like further liner/sleeve notes, feel free to ask in the comments below. Every song title has a story…
PPS I think it’s clear I should return to some proper employment. I start back next week, and my only regret is I won’t have time to focus on the often difficult second album. I agree, a musical loss. Perhaps a future project…
PPPS Imagine my surprise when I checked to see if there is/was a band called Gays in the Military. Well, confirming there is rarely anything new under the sun, they already exist, with an album released in 2005. Having played a couple of tracks, you’ll be happy to know I think my future project is still a go.
I’ve a cheerful face, with movie star good looks best suited to radio. When I stand on my head, I appear to be smiling. Appearances can be deceptive, as I’m actually quite a happy soul, a glass half full person, especially when my glass is half full. Keep me away from the daily political and environmental news, and you’ll see a happy chappy.
Having said all that, like many of us, I’ve had days when the current crisis has dented a positive outlook. How couldn’t it? What a time we’re all going through. Initially, there were aspects of stay at home social distancing that were quite welcome for this introvert. I didn’t mind the extra quiet that befell the city, especially at the start of the shutdown. Reduced traffic and hushed streets were rather enjoyable. Vehicle use is picking up again now, noticeably so, and I’m looking forward to when we’ll be able to return to the less noisy coast. It’ll happen.
The city is brightening up, greenery more abundant, and the first blossom starting to show. Scout and I stood under a tree the other morning, sheltering from the rain and breathing in the fresh fragrance. Heady stuff, and we’d have stood there longer, but people were starting to stare…
We’ve missed being able to hang out with mates, so when we were invited by mountain friends to go have a physically distant beer on their deck, we jumped at the chance. Calculating we’d all been in isolation (aside from a weekly supermarket run) for over two months, and hadn’t had any significant interaction with anyone outside of our respective households, we rolled the dice and said let’s meet.
The weather didn’t cooperate, with intermittent rain and low cloud cover obscuring the mountains. Never mind, and it was coffee rather than beer, sheltering under the deck instead of up on top.
It was so good to catch up, to sit (together but apart) and chew the fat, make plans for a camping trip to be taken… well, who knows? But it’ll happen.
The best part of the day wasn’t for the humans, it was for the dogs. Our friends have taken in a rescue pup, a delightful little dog called Ponyo. Part husky, part beagle, all fun, Ponyo and Scout had a wild time. They wrestled and rolled in the backyard, ran and ran in the dog park, then wrestled and rolled some more. We’ve never seen Scout so tired!
All in all, we aim to remain positive, maintain an upbeat outlook, make plans for the summer and beyond, and keep our glasses half full. And beyond.
Thanks for reading, stay safe and well, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Can that be a thing? Not too sure it’ll work, but here’s what I’ve been thinking. Thinking?! I’ve gotten very close to setting up my little solo tent on our tiny balcony. If I thought Mrs. PC would let me in again the next morning, I’d probably take that trip. This week is a bit of a repost, or perhaps a remake? Redo?
This time last year was the last time I went on an off grid trip. Over thirty young people plus elders and mentors set off in two boats, in high spirits, low temperatures and steady rain. The smaller boat was a zippy number, speeding ahead and stopping every now and then to drop a line, see what could be hooked. We had time. This was because the second boat was a larger slow boat, carrying most of the group and all of the supplies. A steady steamer that probably felt smoother in the roughish seas.
I was on the small boat for the outbound voyage, “enjoying” those roughish seas and the chance to stop and fish. The fishing wasn’t a huge success, unless you count snagging a surprised sea slug. Or was it a cucumber?
The weather improved over the three days we were away, so that by the time we were ready, if not willing, to return, we completed the trip under blue skies. I took the slow boat back – anything to prolong the fun.
Out at camp, we rebuilt trails that had taken a battering from a couple of spring storms. Everything was tidied and spruced up, ready to present to and welcome a group of elders coming out to see the area, for some, the first time in years. After the first night, I reset my tent properly in daylight. I’d really rushed the set up, doing the best I could in strong winds and rain in the dark. Besides, who wants their untidy tent letting the side down?
What I didn’t report in my first piece about this year ago trip was that on the final afternoon – the day before we were leaving – I turned my ankle over. It was jolly painful, and my left foot turned all sorts of jolly interesting colours.
Since then, the recovery of the high ankle sprain has taken many months. It’s unlike me not to have complained about this sooner, but as I’ve time in this pandemic, and because you’re interested, let me share that I couldn’t ride my bike, and really struggled with walking up anything with much of an incline. My dreams of shimmying past the last defender and scoring a beauty of a World Cup winning goal have had to be put on hold. Again. I know, I know, it’s a loss for sport.
All of this slight moping and retelling and reminiscing is simply a way of me wishing we could all go camping again soon. Not all at once, and not in the same place. I love you dearly, but there are physical distancing issues that we need to respect. Still, until we can be out in our favourite places and with our favourite people, there’s always the virtual camping and old stories to share. Again. Did I mention my ankle?
Thanks for reading, enjoy the long weekend if you have one, the regular one if you don’t, and stay safe and well! Now, where’s the spare back door key, and let’s see if that solo tent will fit on the balcony…
PS I’m told those seas really weren’t that rough, or roughish – even the sea slug laughed at me. Or was it a cucumber?
Hmm, what could that mean? In so many different ways, and in so many places during the current crisis, it seems wheels have been falling off. If you’ve been here before, you’ll know I (mostly, haha) steer clear of matters controversial. So let me say, when the wheels are falling off, I mean the wheels are falling off…this:
A weekend or two ago, the walls were starting to close in a bit more than usual. Like many, we’ve been missing time on trails, and our usual visits to wide open spaces. For me, like many, positive mental health can be boosted by time spent in green and blue outdoor places. Alberta in late winter/early spring isn’t renowned for vibrant greenery, so we did the next best thing, and went to the gold and brown prairies – under vast blue skies.
Phew. A sneak trip out of the city, a drive along empty back roads, windows down, cold fresh air, and space, space, space. From above, our car bouncing along dusty ridge roads would have looked like a little black socially distanced insect. One badly in need of a wash.
We didn’t see many other people, but we did see a couple of red tailed hawks, numerous waterfowl bobbing on icy cold knob and kettle ponds, hundreds of geese overhead, and maybe best of all, a herd of bison up on a distant ridge.
We did stop to enjoy our cup of coffee and small(ish) bar of chocolate. Wondering where would be a good place for this, with great timing we came around a bend and saw a rusting relic sitting in a field. What a beauty, an old Mercury (I only know that because the rear badge was still visible) stranded in golden grass. The remains of a failed getaway, perhaps? There’s a good story here just waiting to be told.
What was slightly strange was seeing a set of what looked to be reasonably ok tires, one at each wheel arch. The car looked distinctly undriveable, but maybe someone out there on the prairies has plans to ensure the Mercury isn’t in its final rusting place? That would be cool. Next time the walls close in, maybe we’ll take another spin out there, see if the car has been saved. Wheels fallen off? Doesn’t have to be a permanent state of affairs…
Thanks for reading. I hope you’re well, please stay safe and enjoy the weekend ahead!
With the long Easter weekend almost upon us – life has turned into one long weekend if you’re one of the many staying close to home right now – I thought I’d post a few past pictures taken around this time of year. Sort of heartening and disheartening at the same time…
Aiming to be positive, it’s nice to think that next Easter, or maybe the one after, most that choose to do so will be able to celebrate with their friends and families close by, rather than on FaceTime etc.
On a lighter, borderline trivial note, and perhaps somewhat worryingly, I have a trove of beer photographs dating back many, many years. Hmm, now why is that? Well, don’t some adults take pictures of trains and write down the engine numbers? Not that I’m being defensive or anything. The real reason is one of my brothers doesn’t like beer (you remember, he only drinks Peroni, proving he doesn’t like beer) so whenever we’re out and find ourselves – and this is rare – trying new beers in a microbrewery or bar, or a friend’s house, or at home, or on a day ending in a “y” – like I said, rare – then I’ll take a photo and send it to my brother. It’s ok, he likes getting the photographs, he really does. Anyway, seeing the photo below of North Coast Brewing’s Red Seal ale reminded me we haven’t tried that in quite a while. This is clearly an issue for me, because there’s still the important research needed to catch up on the past three years of AB new beers before revisiting old favourites. Looking back to look ahead. Clutching at straws, but maybe that’s a lockdown silver lining…
I’ll finish this one as I did last time. I do hope you’re keeping well. The current crisis is very serious, and frightening for so many. I admire and thank all the people who are doing all they can to keep what is necessary going. Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful long weekend.
Or, in my case, being something of an introvert, anti-social distancing. Silver linings…
Clearly there is plenty to be concerned about presently, what with Covid-19 and the toilet roll fights in supermarkets. They cut those scenes from “Mad Max” didn’t they? I imagine John Woo or Sam Peckinpah could have had a slow motion field day with scraps and shreds of toilet paper floating through fight scenes of suburban scrappers going toe to toe over the last packet of spaghetti. Pasta pugilists…
Back to the social distancing. I don’t mind if that’s the way it has to be. Avoid large crowds and social gatherings? Oh, alright. Drive thru virus testing, then a quick stop at the drive thru growler refill station. Doesn’t sound too bad.
Oh gosh, I just sneezed. I’ll keep this brief, as I suddenly feel the need to google the early onset symptoms. All photographs this week are from Florencia once again, and if you’ve got to be socially distant, this seems as good a place as any!
Flippancy aside, please be well, look after yourselves, family, friends and neighbours, and remember pasta shouldn’t be overcooked and is best enjoyed with a glass of red wine. Or two.
I was going to call this one “Taking Flight” but Walt over at Rivertop Rambles got there first earlier this week. Do go over and read his blog, and if your reading tastes run to fine writing on matters outdoors, I can highly recommend any of his books – he’s just published a new one…
Back to not taking flight, and flights of fancy. The new brewery in Ucluelet opened a couple of weeks ago, and we were delighted to pop in and sample the beer, see if the extended (and extended) wait was worth it.
Of course it was! The converted and repurposed church premises are lovely looking, inside and out. Pale walls and big beams up to a vaulted ceiling, all just right in a small temple dedicated to hops. It’s an intimate space, and it was great they resisted the temptation to squeeze in too many tables and chairs. You’ve got elbow room, space to hoist a glass without jolting your neighbours and new beery best friends.
Yeah, yeah, thanks for the architecture and interior design reports – what about the beer?
I’m very happy to say the beer is good! We had a flight of four, ranging from light to dark, and each was perfectly drinkable. A Kolsch style, a Belgian wit style, an IPA, and a porter. Of the four, the Kolsch and IPA were particularly good, the Tragically Wit (yup, they did) was fine but not my favourite style unless brewed in Belgium (yes, I’m a beer princess, guilty as charged) and the porter seemed closer to a nut brown than a true dark beer along the lines of Fuller’s London Porter. Given that London Porter might be my all time favourite and the one I’d pick if I could only drink one for the rest of eternity, the porter at Ukee Brewing had no chance. The St. Aiden’s Porter was Mrs PC’s favourite, just ahead of the South Swell IPA for her. I fancy that a pint of the Seventh Day Kolsch will be very enjoyable after a warm and sunny day of hiking/paddling, particularly if you’ve snagged an outdoor seat overlooking the bay.
Obviously, to make sure our recollections are clear and correct, we’ll have to go back at least once (!) more, to be absolutely certain this report is accurate. There’s so much fake news out there these days, it’s important I get the facts right. Discipline and dedication. Thanks for your concern I might be putting too much time into the research, but surely someone has to win a Pulitzer for beer reporting?
Cheers all, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
The lake equivalent of the doldrums – is that a thing?
Personally, we’re not really in the doldrums, in fact, far from it, especially when we’re out and about. Mind you, current political storms aren’t showing any signs of receding. Peering ahead, trying to find a positive glimmer in the gloom somewhere on the future horizon, it can seem genuine calm and a sense of things improving globally is all a bit far off, a bit difficult to discern. The doldrums wouldn’t be so bad compared to a storm. Although a sailor never wants to be in either…
A sailor? Me?! I should probably leave the nautical terms and conditions well alone! Anyway, we all know the seas are stormy at the moment.
In the meantime, as we wait for common sense to reappear, what can be better than a trip to the lake? We enjoyed Sproat Lake early one morning last week, a day that started with fog and frost. When we stopped at the Kennedy Hill construction, the flagger said our wait would be 15-20 minutes. Excellent! A chance to pop down to the edge of Kennedy and take a quick photo. The water was silvery-blue, and on the far side, trees were topped with a layer of fog, and poking out of this fog were the heads and shoulders of low mountains. Quite magical. What a splendid view, worth hanging around and snapping a shot.
“Hey Bud? They just cleared it ahead, and I can let you through! Good eh?!”
Well, darn! My all time scenic shot of Kennedy will have to wait for another day! By the time we reached Sproat, after a pretty and winding drive up and over Sutton Pass and down through the Snow Creek area, the fog had closed in.
It was cold, and we walked at a brisk pace along the shore. Often, crows and ravens give us a squawk and a nod, and we sometimes see a heron in the reeds, but not much was stirring. The surface of the lake was still, and in places we couldn’t see where the water gave way to fog. It was very quiet, very calm. Dead calm, and no bad thing if you’re happy with that.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Uh oh, is this a rant?! It is primary season, and it does seem there has been plenty of political piling on, in New England, around DC, in post-Brexit Britain (where Brexit “got done!” – Really?! Oh please…) and elsewhere in the infernal news cycles. No, no rant, if I stop this paragraph now.
Love is in the air! How about a list of loves? Yes? OK!
Friends and family, Canada, camping, the natural world, beer, camping with beer, coffee, camping with coffee, books, movies, Scout! I could go on, but we’d all grow tired.
This week, I have loved seeing a belted kingfisher ruling the inner harbour here. I spy him on gangway railings, perched on a hemlock bough, and best of all, up on a piling and ready to dive. He truly is a king fisher, an absolute champion, and a regular delight on recent harbour walks.
I’ll keep it brief, only adding I love that you’ve taken the time to stop by and read this. That is always appreciated! Alright, it’s getting awkward now. All far too warm and fuzzy this week – I’ll aim for a tougher stance next time. Thanks, and have a wonderful weekend!