A brief post (something readers might be thankful for) to acknowledge Canadian Thanksgiving this coming Monday.
The people we know, the place we live, where we’ve come from, and where we are going – so much to be thankful for!
Canadian Thanksgiving!
Category: Canada
Small in the Fall…
…is how you might feel, huddled by a campfire, amongst the trees and beneath the slopes out at Louise.
We made a hasty exit from the city last Friday, ignoring the forecast calling for a rain-snow mix in the middle of the night, and more hopeful for the promised sunny days.
We often anticipate looking up, peering between the branches as skies darken, eager to spot the first few stars making their appearance. Then, as the light truly fades, there is the spectacle of star after star gleaming in the darkness, until there are more than you can reliably count. Any cares from the week drop off, and you remember your little place in the wider scheme of things.
Well, on Friday night, the forecast was quite wrong – but not in a good way! The promised rain-snow mix came early, with darkness falling even more swiftly than expected due to the cloud cover racing in on blustery winds. Hmm. Instead of our upturned and expectant little faces being greeted with sparkling constellations, it was a heady mix of swirling smoke from the fire, and sleety rain from above. Lovely. On the plus side, it stopped when we were asleep, the temperature didn’t drop below freezing, and Saturday dawned bright and sunny – as promised!
We took a hike east and west along the banks of the Bow, stopping for a picnic lunch that involved layers on and layers off as the wind delivered brisk gusts. Fall, you are a contrary season, with your pleasant warmth and sudden chills, each chasing the other, upstream and downstream. Summer in a sheltered spot, then a strong hint of winter when we stepped into the breeze. Enjoyable either way.
Happily, the wind dropped as Saturday evening arrived, and the smoke from the fire was mostly straight up. The only showers were rising orange sparks, spitting up with each exploding knot in the firewood. This time, we did get to sit and see the stars appear, and the only effort was in not dozing too long, lulled by the warmth from the fire and a bottle of IPA.
What seem like major concerns tend to diminish and become more manageable when examined beneath the stars, and against time measured by mountains. There are natural cycles far longer and more necessary than political, economic, or news cycles. Shouldn’t our human cycles of concern serve, rather than determine, the natural cycles? I wonder…
Generally speaking, after some time outdoors, the big stuff isn’t all that, and as for the small stuff? Why, it almost disappears. There is a joy to feeling small, particularly so in the fall and by a fire, if you’ve got a little time.
Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave a comment or share a story, and have a wonderful weekend!
Campsite coffee cacophony!
Yikes! What a title…Oh no, not another old man rant?! (Mountain misery…) It’s alright – this is about the welcome sights and sounds as you sit by the fire, or awaken and stumble out of your tent early on a bright morning. An old(ish) man, content.
We stayed at Green Point campground once again, and I’m so happy to say it was a wonderful experience. Fellow campers were well spaced and well behaved – like we all hope for when you first roll in.
We had a green and leafy walk in site, mere minutes from the beach, with the constant sound of the Pacific surf drifting up from below. The first night we dropped off with light rainfall drumming on the roof of the tent. It’s ok to drop off to the sound of rain, but you don’t really want to wake to it…
…we got lucky, and awoke to bright skies and big sounds. Much of the cacophony came from the multitude of birds, seen and unseen, that were our companions. I’m not knowledgeable in identifying bird calls or song, but it is very pleasant to sit and listen. I wrote brief notes one morning in an attempt to describe some of the calls:
– sounds like it is saying “trouble-trouble”
– sounds like two coconut halves clopping together
– a wooden note on a glockenspiel?
– cawing, croaking, whistling, chattering, chirping, squawking and shrilling
Hmm. I read my notes and decided to put the pen down, pick up my coffee, and just watch and listen. And really, the word cacophony is the wrong word to use – it was anything but harsh or discordant (but I like the sound of the word, so there it is in the title!)
Steller’s Jays flashed across our site, brilliant blue against the green, never still long enough to me to get a photograph, they were intently foraging on through the campground.
The whirring buzz and flit of hummingbirds is a delight, and if they catch me unawares (which is most times) they always have me leaping up in crazed self defence until I realize it is a hummingbird and not a large hornet out to get me (sad, but true, and happens nearly every time…) I love seeing hummingbirds. To a small boy growing up used to the ducks and pigeons in various London parks, the very idea of hummingbirds was so exotic. It still is! One morning, I saw hummingbirds smaller than butterflies, and butterflies larger than hummingbirds. How cool!
Looking up and through the trees, there almost always seemed to be small clusters of ravens wheeling, tumbling, and floating across the sky. I know little about what the behaviour signifies, but it seemed they were being competitive, showing off their aerial skills. I appreciated the show.
Sit looking up long enough, and eventually a bald eagle will glide over. Always excited to see one, bald eagles are simply magnificent. To me, they are so representative of wilderness and rugged landscapes. I think I said it last week, (Seals, bears, and bald eagles) but I’ll say it again, it is always a thrill to see a bald eagle.
An American robin would sometimes hop past, and a small sparrow sat and sang and sang for several minutes – long enough that I managed a (blurry) photograph.
What a way to start the day! And continue the day. And finish the day. It was hard to drag ourselves away. A joy simply to sit there – birdsong, breeze in the trees, drips and drops after the rain, and surf sounds below – what a camping soundtrack. With a cup of coffee, about perfect, and an old(ish) man, content!
Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave a comment or share a story, and have a wonderful weekend!
(With the exception of the bald eagle, all the photographs were taken less than 10 metres from our tent – it was a beautiful site!)
Seals, bears, and bald eagles…
…on a cool morning in the PNW. Another brief post, hopefully uploaded successfully from a motel room somewhere in BC. Have to say, we were pleasantly unplugged for a few days, and haven’t enjoyed tuning back in. The world we share…oh boy. Anyway, here’s a soothing balm from a quiet corner if needed:
We signed up for a morning boat tour, leaving Tofino early on a wet and misty day. Sometimes the rain fell in sheets, sometimes it was a light mist, and sometimes it had stopped raining just before beginning again. No worries – wet it was, cold it wasn’t! 
We were promised sightings of bears, bald eagles and harbour seals, but to be honest, simply heading up an inlet or two and gazing at the grey-green scenery was more than enough. OK, seeing some wildlife is never a bad thing. Each bear, bald eagle, harbour seal, sea otter, or new angle along the shoreline is cause for excitement. It is a beautiful place to find and then lose yourself, dreamlike if you are so inclined.
I always seem to end up in something of a trance state, head emptying as I fall under the spell of the surroundings. Slowly look left, slowly look right, up, down, and repeat.
Fortunately, my eyes are touch more focused than my mind, and we were able to spot all sorts of wildlife. Regrettably, I’m almost unable to speedily focus a camera, being all overexcited at spotting a bear, and sometimes I forget I have a camera and could take a picture. Between that, the bobbing boat, and having little clue, I’m pretty happy with the pictures.
Anyway, a brief post once more – I’ll let the photographs convey something of the atmosphere. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and please feel free to share a story or leave a comment. Have a wonderful weekend!
(We did enjoy a magical ride in a Zodiac with a friend later during our time in Tofino, and drifted wonderfully close to a few bears – when we get home and I’ve sorted the photos, I’ll share some of that story in a later post…)
West coast wonder!
A short piece this week, written swiftly and in the hope that the sometimes sketchy internet at delightful coffee shops allows for it to get posted.
We went for a wander along the Nuu-chah-nulth trail, and it is a beautiful little hike. On boardwalks winding through rainforest and over sections of bog, this path has it all. Ferns and fronds, magnificent trees, sun and shade, texture and colour, shelter from the rain, no shelter from bugs, and arresting views of the Pacific through gaps in the forest.
The trail starts its winding route from behind the Kwisitis Visitor Centre and connects to Florencia Bay. Once part of the longer route joining Ucluelet to Tofino, and now named for the grouping of First Nations people who have resided in the area for thousands of years, the path truly is “all along the mountains and sea”(nuu-chah-nulth translated) and worth taking your time to explore.
The route is about 2.5 km each way, and takes very little time or effort to complete, but you wouldn’t want to rush! This is a path to linger and dawdle along, to stand and gaze, to inhale and exhale and generally unwind on. Take your time – where else are you going to go? – you’re on the edge of the world…
Stop at the first little bay, barely 5 minutes from the visitor centre, and you’ll likely have it all to yourself – you might spot seals bobbing in the water, and there is plenty of birdlife feeding on the shore.
Eventually, as the sound of the surf increases, you’ll find yourself emerging from the forest above Florencia Bay. A popular spot for surfers, this wide bay is another West coast wonder. We were there on a sunny day, but don’t be fooled. Florencia is named after a ship that went down here in 1861. The bay has also been known locally as Wreck Bay, and looking out at the water, with the waves crashing over partly submerged rocks, it is easy to understand the reputation.
Summer is a relatively calm time weather wise on and off the water, but wouldn’t it be something to be here in stormier weather? For me, that would be on the shore. That people make their precarious living, and have done so for thousands of years, along this tough coast is hard to comprehend for a land borne individual like me. You can only marvel at and respect what it takes to live here.
Anyway, as promised, a brief post about a short and spectacular hike. Very highly recommended if the opportunity arises. Thanks for reading, please feel free to share a story or comment, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Canada!
Happy Canada Day!
Many nations celebrate, and today is Canada’s turn! This won’t be a long post, and it features some photographs I’ve included previously, but I hope you can forgive that.
I simply wanted to pull out a selection to show the True North across the seasons and in different lights. I feel so privileged to be a citizen of this wonderful country.
It isn’t perfect, but when we live in increasingly challenging times, Canada and many Canadians are choosing to be inclusive, welcoming, and fair-minded.
Many countries, and many citizens in those countries, seek to be positive. They choose collaboration, mutual respect within and between nations, valuing and celebrating diversity in all forms, and extending an open hand of friendship, rather than angry raised fists and pointing fingers.
I’ll say it again, Canada isn’t perfect, no nation ever is, but a positive effort by each citizen in each country has to be made. What is the measure of a decent society? Perhaps how that society chooses to behave when times are tough?
As an approach to making the world safer, how is building walls, rejecting collaboration, abandoning treaties, making threats, and fear-mongering to pursue personal and political ends that are only designed to seek profit or control, really going to help? We can do better than that, want to be better than that. Don’t be misled, or exploited. Let’s be amigos, not enemies…
Time to stop – getting a bit bossy. I’m keeping it short and positive this week! If you are in Canada, you are Canadian, wishing you were Canadian, feel Canadian in your heart, or simply love maple syrup, then happy Canada Day!
Have a wonderful weekend!
Summer!
Summer! Road trips! Camping! Road trip music! Oh summer!
So, possibly we’re quite excited about the new season. It sort of kicked off for us a couple of weeks ago when we went to the Performance in the Park show in Banff. Nothing says summer like shivering and sheltering under a tree in the pouring rain, admiring how the bands bravely ensured the show must go on. It was such a determinedly Canadian scene! Short sleeves and pants worn under rain gear, umbrellas rather than parasols, children in wellingtons and galoshes throwing frisbees and footballs to keep warm, and enticing smells wafting over from the food tents. Far more coffee than beer was being sold…
Hey Rosetta and Shad gave excellent performances, and both have been added to our road trip playlists. I mentioned in an earlier post how I’ve been listening to quite a bit of Big Star and Neil Young recently, so they’ll figure prominently. Nothing too snoozy for the driver on those long trips.
Apparently, it is quite a common occurrence for men to make lists – of music, movies, books, preferred beers etc. Well, that sounds ridiculous. Grown men doing such a thing?
Here is a short list of what would make my shortlist of favourite summer tunes if I was the sort of person to do such a thing. (Took me forever, kept changing my mind after discussions with some guys I work with, my Dad, my brothers, a random dude on the train…) In the interests of time, and because, let’s face it, lists by other people are boring, I’ll keep it brief. Just three songs:
Thirteen by Big Star. If a song could ever capture the hopeful start of summer, the youthful yearning of first love, of what it feels to be young, and make you nostalgic for your early teenage years, then this is pretty close. I love this song, and maybe you do/will too?
Fam Jam (Fe Sum Immigrins) by Shad. He writes thoughtful, smart lyrics, performs with passion – and often a smile on his face – and tells stories that put you in someone else’s shoes. Apart from all that, his tunes are infectious! I enjoy old school hip-hop that isn’t riddled with misogyny and homophobia. The album Flying Colours is great, and will get played endlessly this summer.
September Gurls by Big Star. Oh, come on PlaidCamper, you’ve already included Big Star! What can I say? This is a summer classic, a bookend to Thirteen, and a summer closing song. The sound draws heavily on so many summery music influences, and the song is infectious – it may take up residence in your head, but it’s ok, because it is great. Ooh, bit opinionated there, but even the random dude on the train had to agree…
Anyway, a brief list as promised. A bit of fun to kickstart the summer, and possibly make you rather glad you’re not in the back of our car. Feel free to make your own suggestions in the comments below, and have a wonderful weekend!
Soaring…
…like a red-tailed hawk over river valley badlands.
We were sitting on the edge of a buffalo jump, overlooking the Red Deer River, when a hawk flew up from below, higher and higher, rising and wheeling in the sun. It seemed to hang for a perfect moment, just above our heads, the sun shining through the wing and tail feathers. The hawk’s silhouette glowed at the edges, brick red and orange fire against the blue. What a sight! It continued to climb, glide and ride the thermals, seemingly effortless as it soared away and across the badlands.
Can you imagine being the hawk? Surely some of the flight is sheer joy? I know, it was out and about the hawkish business of feeding and survival, but still…(I wish I had a photograph to share, but we were so taken by the sight, a photograph was very much an afterthought – and then there is my speedy reaction time with a camera. Pretty sure I’d have taken several pictures of sky!)
We were happy to enjoy a sunny Sunday after the rather damp previous weekend. Sat in shirtsleeves at the top of Dry Island Buffalo Jump eating a picnic was very pleasant. Gophers scampered, butterflies tumbled and fluttered in the wind, and trees rustled and shimmered under a bright blue sky. Throw in long golden grasses swaying in the breeze, the gentle buzz and drone of insect life, the call of birds along the valley, and it all made for beautiful views with a lovely natural soundtrack.
You approach this small provincial park by driving across rolling prairies. There is very little to indicate the presence of the Red Deer River ahead of you as you search for the buffalo jump. The paved road is straight for kilometres, until, without warning, it becomes a dirt road, and makes a sharpish left turn at a small stand of low trees. Suddenly, the badlands valley appears on your right, wide, vast, and too deep to see into the bottom from the car. Time to pull over and be amazed. The contrast with the grasslands before is simply astonishing, adding further impact to an already wonderful scene.
After eating, we wandered down into the valley, following the steep dirt road to a small parking and picnic area in front of the river. (We didn’t drive down because we wanted to hike past the fragrant sagebrush, and because, if the road is wet, it is possible you will be stranded at the bottom. After rain, the dirt becomes mud so slick, most vehicles, 4WD or not, will be stuck. Tow trucks won’t come down and rescue you! We decided that recent rains may have made it too slippery, and by the time we’d eaten, large clouds were beginning to bubble up and over…and being stuck in the mud is perhaps not the best excuse for missing work on Monday?)
The Red Deer flows slowly and serenely through the valley. We picked our way along the riverbank, enjoying the dart of a fish, the flapping and splashing of ducks on the far side, and following the blue damselflies seemingly scouting the way for us. A pair of birds skimmed across the surface of the water, no doubt enjoying the abundant bug life. All seems right with the world in such a peaceful setting. My only alarm was in almost stepping on a garter snake hidden in a patch of fallen dried brush. That set the heart hammering for a short while. I was far more attentive thereafter, and I hope the snake is now feeling fine too.
We had planned on exploring some of the trails at the foot of the jump, but it was really, really warm on the valley floor. We settled for sitting awhile by the river, enjoying what felt like a timeless place, thinking about the lives of those who’d been here before. Imagine, with buffalo, fish, birds, and berries, it must have been a Cree treasure trove…
It was difficult to stir ourselves, but the clouds were amassing. We didn’t rush, and besides, the track was steep, so it was a leisurely plod back to the top ahead of the approaching rain.
What a day for natural wonders and unexpected encounters – a day to send your spirits soaring!
Thanks for reading, please feel free to share a story or make a comment, and have a wonderful weekend!
Mountain magic! A spell was karst…
…on a magical trail beneath mountains hiding behind murky mists.
At school, we’ve been working on starting stories, so apologies for the opener. It may not get any better, but rest assured, I’ll stay away from fiction and stick to the facts. PlaidCamper facts, anyway. Perhaps you’re a little concerned about the spelling?
Last weekend was a holiday long weekend, and, as science, statistics and superstition has taught us, that meant lots and lots of rain, starting at 4pm on Friday, then stopping at 8am on Tuesday. So, camping plans were abandoned, and a new hike sought on Sunday, never mind the weather. We wanted to visit the Spray Lakes area south of Canmore, into Kananaskis country, and follow the Karst Spring trail. A trail leading to a geological feature? Let’s go!
A weather eye out the window just before departure confirmed it was raining, but by the time we exited the parking garage it had started to snow. Hmm, I thought. Still early, and when it warms up, it’ll soon be just rain again. Forty-five minutes later, we were crawling across the prairies and into the foothills in driving snow. I am an almost outdoorsman.
We had fun(?) slipping and sliding down the Smith-Dorrien Highway, likely a lovely dusty road in summer, but current conditions had reduced it to a series of water-filled potholes linked by treacherous gravel stretches. Those were the better bits. When we weren’t slipping and sliding, we were bumping and jumping, and not in a good way.
Such fun. The snow had become so heavy that we couldn’t see the mountains or the lakes – and this is a narrow valley. We ploughed on, arrived at the trailhead lot, staggered out of the car, reattached loose fillings, and set off on the Karst Spring trail.
It was probably the lack of any views due to the snow-rain (Snow-rain? Ha, I knew it would improve!) mix still falling, but the first part of the trail isn’t that interesting – scrubland and small trees each side of a wide track. Stick with it though, and after a couple of kilometres the trail rises into denser coniferous forest, and the atmosphere changes. The path narrows, and the humidity increases. There is more standing water on the ground, and the forest floor, boulders and fallen logs are covered with moss. Patches of wild flowers grow here and there, and witch’s beard hangs from branches. Enchanting!
A sharp left turn descends to Watridge Lake. This lake is popular with anglers looking to catch trout, but no anglers were present. In fact, we saw only six other hikers all day. The first couple we encountered barely fifteen minutes into our hike. They’d been camping overnight, and looked damp, and thoroughly downcast. When we told them they were mere minutes from the parking lot, their faces lit up, and they actually started to run! We were happy to help!
Past Watridge Lake, the trail becomes magical. You have to cross wetlands on a narrow boardwalk, which lends a sense of achievement when you don’t fall off. The forest was hushed, melting snow a threadbare carpet on the mossy floor, with drips and drops of rain falling softly. As we followed the path, the faint sound of rushing water grew steadily louder.
Another turn or two and we were alongside the most delightful creek! We knew the spring couldn’t be too far, and continued up the pathway as it hugged the cascading creek.
Photographs don’t do justice to the mossy, emerald treasures we saw as we approached the source of the spring. Hiking boots don’t allow for much of a jig on a muddy, rock and root ridden path, but I swear I did a little dance of joy. Steady, PlaidCamper. Must have been a sprinkle of fairy dust, or maybe an allergic reaction to Fairy Slipper (thanks, Walt) pollen, but this was a special place.
With time pushing on, and an increased chill in the air, we couldn’t hang around too long. We did promise that we’d return, perhaps in the fall, to uncover the autumnal charms of a truly wonderful trail. 
We’d fallen under the spell of Karst Spring, a magical place deep in the forest, hidden in the shadow of mist-shrouded mountains. (We’ve been working on story closings as well – apologies once more!)
On our drive back home, the cloud cover lifted enough for us to see some of what we’d missed on the journey in. Wild country.
Thanks for taking the time to read this, it is always appreciated. As ever, please feel free to leave a comment or share a story, and have a wonderful weekend!
Bicycle chains and bear spray
Now that spring has sprung, bear spray is always a must carry item when out hiking. Safety first! It’s important to be prepared, because once you are in wild country, anything could happen. (But why bicycle chains, PC? Have you joined a ’50s motorcycle gang, switching plaid for leather? Read on if you are interested, but no, this isn’t a tale of ruckus and rumbles…)
Last weekend, we enjoyed a short hike with friends and family around the outskirts of Canmore. The hike was short for a number of reasons. The biggest reason was the way certain members in the party celebrated our reunion after quite some time being apart. Mrs PC’s twin brother, and his best buddy, hadn’t been out to Alberta before, so they made up for lost time by trying as many local craft beers in one Friday evening as is (in)humanly possible. We didn’t even try to keep up. If you were unable to get hold of a pint of Last Best IPA last week, well, now you know why.
So, a few sore heads slowed down our small band of happy hikers. Other reasons for dallying? The pre-teen, M, was on his bike because “walking with old people is boring” and his mother, S, was on her bike because a season of snowboarding had worn out her knees. M. kept disappearing onto side trails, and his mother would head off, find him, and shepherd him back to the main group. Her other son, teenager A, is an avid photographer, enthusiastic to the point where he has to take a picture of everything. Not necessarily a problem, but there are a lot of trees out there. This might have slowed our progress just a little. A’s father, Mr. S, enjoyed exhorting him to “come on A, keep up, there’s another tree over here!” Didn’t work.
Like me, Mr. S is bear aware, and he carries a canister of bear spray on his belt. You never know…although the chances of an encounter were greatly reduced that day by the heartfelt and voluble pleas of the youngest child wanting to know if we could go home now. No.
Mr and Mrs S live with their two boys quite close to Canmore Nordic Centre, so hiking and biking trails are almost right outside their door, and just above the town. We wandered along forgiving trails, admiring the views across the Bow Valley, the fresh new leaf growth, and feeling apologetic toward the single elk we did encounter. To be honest, I think the elk was ok, had probably seen and heard worse, and in fact looked rather unimpressed. It allowed A to take a photograph or two, and then sauntered off into deeper woods.
All was well with the world, the fresh air working its soothing magic on those that needed soothing, the younger boy was beginning to understand no means no, and enjoy being out on his bike in beautiful country. Not that he’d ever admit it. The weather was rather cool, skies were overcast, with more than a hint of rain in the air, but not enough to dampen spirits. Then, near disaster struck! The chain on Mrs S’s bike came off! That wasn’t the disaster though. It was the fact she didn’t want to get her brand new gloves greasy putting the chain back on. Truthfully, they were lovely gloves, and perhaps the grease would not have washed off.
Never afraid to help in an emergency, and because my gloves are a filthy disgrace at the best of times, I turned the bike over, reset the chain, and was about to guide it back on, but it seemed we all had to inspect the work. Fair enough. Mrs PC’s twin bent over the back wheel, his buddy along for the weekend bent over the back wheel, I bent over the back wheel, Mrs PC bent over the back wheel, S bent over the back wheel – it was her bicycle after all – and Mr. S bent over the back wheel. Quite a crowd! A didn’t bend over the back wheel – he was taking photos of all the adults bending over the back wheel. I hope he had a wide lens, and I hope he isn’t on FaceBook.
Anyway, happy that the work was sound, S bent down slightly further and reached across to turn the pedal. PSSSSHT! Huh? What was that? Too many beers the night before? We looked up at each other, a slight frown on faces as we searched for the guilty party. Then we all staggered back as we inhaled. Yes, it was that bad. No, not that. S had set off his can of bear spray! Fortunately, the cloud avoided a direct hit on all who were gathered, and apart from some of us feeling a touch asthmatic, the only damage was to the back of S’s jacket and jeans. I’ve never seen people leap like gazelles before, but the explosive jump away was quite something.
It was one of those situations where you had to be there to really see the funny side of such a narrow escape, but can you imagine the headlines? Tourists shoot themselves with bear spray just outside of town. No bears were present.
We laughed until we cried, mostly with relief, and that’s when the closest to real damage happened – S rubbed away a tear or two and discovered he had bear spray on his hands…
I’m very happy to report S is fine now, after much eye irrigation, and there were no lasting side effects. He does still carry bear spray when hiking, no longer on his belt but in a side pocket of his hiking pants. Mrs S wears old gloves when out cycling.
So there you have it. No rumbles, perhaps a bit of a ruckus, and we’re all a little more careful about where we hang our bear spray canister. Thanks for reading! Please feel free to comment or share a story, and have a wonderful weekend!
OldPlaidCamper 