ocean – Page 6 – OldPlaidCamper

End of miles

I was staring out to sea the other day, with a partial lyric running through my head. I kept reaching for the song, and the performer, but it stayed just beyond my grasp. It wasn’t a particularly poetical piece, in fact, it was literal to my circumstances:

“You stare out at the ocean
Mountains at your back…”

Yup, that was what I was doing, and that was the fragment. Although, the first day, I wasn’t standing with mountains at my back, they were in front of me:

By Saturday lunchtime I got it the right way round, with ocean in front, but I still couldn’t remember the song. A Teenage Fanclub tune? Nope. Sad to say, I know their songs inside out, and it wasn’t them. Being a person capable of holding on to deep thoughts, and always prepared to grapple with a problem, I completely forgot the lyric for a couple of days and got on with whatever it is I’m supposed to do.

On Wednesday, I received an email from an old friend. We’ve been plotting and postponing an old guy road trip, with stops at baseball places (for him), musical references in songs (for both of us), and craft breweries yet to be tried by either of us (for him!) The latest plan involved parts of California, a favourite for a road trip, and it had me humming “California Bound” by Black Francis/Frank Black or however he refers to himself. As well as being buddies in beer, my friend and I share the same dubious musical tastes, so Frank Black, the Pixies etc. would make it onto a road trip mix tape. Can you call a digital playlist a mix tape?

“You planning on getting to a point here?”

Much like a canceled road trip, you might be finding this post isn’t really going anywhere. Anyway, prompted by the postponed plans, I played “California Bound” and then let the album (Black Letter Days) run, because I’d forgotten how hugely enjoyable this rambling country tinged guitar and reedy/basso and sometimes falsetto voiced album is. He writes and performs as if, well, why not? So listen I did. And there it was! The song with the partial lyric that had wormed its way into my musical mind. “End of Miles” by Frank Black. Phew! Mystery solved, and a fine song if you like that kind of thing. The more complete lyric is:

“At the end of miles
You stare out at the ocean
Mountains at your back you think you’ve tamed”

Well, I haven’t tamed any mountains – at best, I think it is safe to say I’m always happy to head up and then make it back. Hiking, or on a snowboard, and especially on skis, getting home is the thing. I don’t tame mountains, but I do love them.

I haven’t reached my end of miles just yet. Very happy to be residing on the coast, between the mountains and the sea, but also looking forward to the “grumpy old git road trip“ and being California bound, likely now scheduled for 2022 or beyond…

I’ll leave it for this week, with a post almost as meandering as a Frank Black album, full of detours, and incomplete stories, but written because, well, why not?

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Bonus track: “1826” by Frank Black Oh yes! Turn it up to 11 – if Mrs. PC is out. Probably not for everyone, but this should go on a road trip mix tape.

Lighter

Setting out, there’s a little more light in the morning, and when I’m heading home, it is slightly less dark each evening. I’m drinking less beer and eating less chocolate. Throw in the transition events of Wednesday this past week, and it’s safe to say I’m feeling lighter. It’s also safe to say one of the previous sentences isn’t entirely true. You decide…

Anyway, I think the world is a tiny bit safer, and things are a touch brighter. I know, and it’s an adjustment for many of us, but I’m being almost optimistic.

We spent part of last weekend on Long Beach, enjoying some sun, and wondering as we were wandering how the Biden/Harris inauguration might go. We settled for signs of things improving, and hoping there’d be no repeat or echo of January 6th.

Later in the week, I was in the school garden with a future horticulturalist, and he noticed a bulb about to burst into colour. He was so excited! Due to the pandemic and a construction zone right outside the garden location (seismic upgrades and a new building to improve the two schools) the garden hasn’t been well tended the past year, so it was promising to see new growth emerging from the tangle.

Did you hear Amanda Gorman perform her poem this week? Click on the link if you missed it or would like to enjoy it once more. Hopeful? I think we can be.

One last thing from Wednesday, and it certainly made me smile – did you see Bernie Sanders’ mittens? And some of the humour they inspired? It’s worth following the link, it really is. My favourite was:

A corner turned, and much work to be done, but doesn’t it feel good to be heading in a better direction? With a map? And people who can read it?

Almost optimistic. Maybe I’ll have a beer and, who knows, a cube of chocolate? Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Happy New Year!

Let’s be glass half full, and say 2021 will be a good year!

Walking about town last week, I was surprised and cheered to see a small hedgerow sporting an early bloom – hints of brighter days ahead?

Thank you for taking the time to read this and other posts this past year, and we wish you all the best for the coming year!

Small bubbles

A short one today, as we enjoy the season in our small social bubble, and safe harbour, perhaps with a glass containing small bubbles.

Frothy on top – a mild wintry west coast day

We hope you stay safe and well, physically if not socially distant, with small bubbles of your own to see you through.

Cheers, thanks for reading, and enjoy the long weekend!

Safe harbour and small bubbles – cheers!

Virtual camping?

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?

Pandemic! Epidemic! Endemic! I need a medic…

What a noisy week it has been. Well, I suppose it’s been noisy for a touch longer than that. Still, Super Tuesday (or was it Thursday? Oops!) and all the primary excitement. Joementum! Feeling the Bern! Racist slurs and insults on Twitter! Don’t forget the virus! We’re all going to die. True, but not right now, and not all at once. Is there a cure for this March madness? Health warning: this post contains many questions, and few answers!

Not sure it’s a cure, but the Pacific provided some respite for us recently, on our own little Super Tuesday. We decided to take coffee and a second breakfast to Florencia Bay. Sunshine and an empty parking lot greeted us, as well as a falling tide. Barely a breath of wind, and the noise came from washing waves, the cries of gulls, and a pair of singing bald eagles. Ah, blessed harmony…

Florencia is Mrs PC’s favourite beach, and on a bright late winter day, it’s easy to see why. Coffee in a quiet place, sitting on a log overlooking the ocean? Could this be the cure? Dark roast and a berry muffin – a medical miracle. Perhaps not, but in the moment it certainly felt like a soothing specific Pacific balm for the epic epidemic of modern madness. I enjoyed writing that last sentence, but I wouldn’t want to repeat it three times. Or sing Happy Birthday twice (oh if only the cure for what ails us was so simple!)

Hush now, politicians, step aside, put your money where your mouths are, and listen to and support the proper experts – nurses, doctors, healthcare workers, underfunded and overworked yet doing their level best to keep all of us ticking along.

Keeping it brief this week. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Looking ahead…

…to a new year, and a new decade – goodness, the century is racing by, isn’t it? Doesn’t seem like 20 years have passed – a quick glance back, and remember when reading and writing about Y2K fears and predictions of gloom was all the rage? Well, the internet didn’t crash, stoplights kept working, and wasn’t the internet called the World Wide Web? A time before Twitter. How old fashioned and lovely…

I thought this post was looking ahead, not back, OldPlaidCamper?

You’re quite right. Looking ahead, I think people will remember to be kind and compassionate, seek to embrace and value difference, and wear plaid at least once a week because it never goes out of fashion.

Also, 2020 will be the year the Ucluelet Brewing Company brewers throw open their doors, if only to stop me pressing my nose up against the window almost daily. Nearly twenty months later than first promised, the next opening day is slated for January 31st – here’s hoping it happens, and the beer is good!

I hope your coming year is full of outdoor time and adventures in nature – be it hiking, skiing, paddling, fishing, photography or camping, either alone or with friends and family. And of course, your outdoor day should finish with a glass of something good when you get back indoors or back to the campfire.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend and a wonderful start to the new year and decade. Looking forward to 2020!

Fading…

The year, the decade – but not us!

A brief post to wish you all a very happy winter festive season, if you choose to celebrate.

I was put in mind of the fading of the year a week or so back when we were on the beach mid-afternoon on a relatively sunny day, only to find the light went pretty quickly as the afternoon marched on and some clouds marched in. Shirtsleeves to toque and jacket in little more than an hour.

I’ll save looking ahead to the next decade for when it gets under way, save to say here’s hoping it isn’t as rabidly populist, negative and xenophobic as the end of this decade. As a couple of comments left here recently suggested, it’s worth holding on to the notion the pendulum will swing back, bad political times do pass, and common sense and decency, kindness and caring might even become the norm.

With that, all the best to all who’ve chosen to stop by, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

The coming storm

Oh no, is he going on a rant here?! Nope, keep reading, it’s a short post about our stroll up, and then dash back down Wick beach last week.

I’d managed to get off work early, and because the forecast for the weekend looked a tad damp, we thought we’d make the most of an unexpectedly sunny afternoon. Probably wouldn’t need rain gear, so didn’t bother taking it. Yup, you’ve already figured out how good that decision was…

When we turned off the main road and drove down to the parking lot, the blue skies were less blue, with wisps of fog blowing out of the forest, and some grey clouds out on the horizon. By the time we’d untangled Scout’s long leash and found a trail not being cleared by chainsaw wielding Parks Canada folks, quite some time had passed. When we stumbled out onto the beach, thoughts of a warm and sunny stay started to fade as quickly as the clouds growing closer to shore.

Luckily, I’m pretty good at reading the weather, and my expert calculations indicated we’d have enough time to wander along the shore for a good half hour, maybe throw a stick around with Scout for a few minutes, then saunter back.

Probably got time to saunter up and back?

I will say that a hurried walk that looks like you’re almost running could be interpreted as sauntering if you’re feeling generous. Mrs PC and Scout weren’t feeling generous, they were feeling the enormous drops of rain from the leading edge of the storm front that overtook us as we sauntered back to the car. I think the word was invigorating, but I’ll keep that to myself.

“You’re right about the light, PC, but can we go now?”

The light was dramatic, the waves were gathering themselves for an onshore onslaught, and goodness me, didn’t the front move in quickly. Still, at least we had rain gear with us. Oh, I forgot – someone who shall remain nameless said we wouldn’t need it.

The forecast this coming Saturday is for rain, and I for one will be paying attention and dressing appropriately. I mean, what kind of fool ignores the obvious…

Um, maybe we should head back now? Or thirty minutes ago?

I think I’ll leave it for this week, and wish you a wonderful weekend – rain, snow, or shine!

PS Wayne let us know that Ucluelet received 210mm of rain, and Tofino had 167mm. Not bad for less than two days!

Light and dark

Day and night, morning and evening, good and bad, lager and stout.

I could almost leave it there (I know, but I won’t!) as this about describes our trip to Victoria last weekend.

If you’re going to spend some time in a city, then Victoria is a pretty good one. Much is made of the relatively warm and dry climate, and we were lucky enough to have a mostly dry weekend. Not sunny, but dry. Other Victoria plus points? Waterside location, distant mountains, not too big, a mostly walkable downtown, many coffee shops and microbreweries, and the rather lovely Royal BC Museum.

We stayed at Spinnakers over in Esquimault because it is only a short waterside walk from the downtown. At night, the lights reflecting on the water was a sparkly sight, and by day there’s always a floatplane taking off or landing, as well as various marine craft large and small. Spinnakers claims to be the oldest craft brewery in Canada, producing decent beer since 1984. I believe Mrs PC suggested we stay there, and after much protest, I agreed.

Oh alright, if I have to…(but not the cider or sours)

The beer menu is quite substantial, although once I’d ruled out sours and ciders, it all became manageable. Mrs PC enjoyed their Pilsner, I preferred the Original Pale Ale. And the Scottish ale. And the PNW ale. And the imperial stout. And the nut brown. Anyway, enough about breakfast.

Should you find yourself in Victoria, can I recommend the First Peoples gallery at the museum? Excellent displays depicting life pre and post European contact, with thoughtful and thought-provoking exhibits. Many items included original language as well as English explanations, and it was a joy to hear the language out loud. I know I’m preaching to the choir here, but the connection to – and respect for – land and sea came over as common sense time and again. We’ve lost so much, yet could still look back to find a model to help us move forward, environmentally speaking. Oh, and while we’re using common sense, let’s include total respect for ancestors and elders. Who’d have thought?

Enough of the preaching, because you’re probably desperate to know which beer was my favourite? Being a decisive sort, and after much consideration, I think it was the Original Pale Ale. No, the PNW ale. No, the stout, or was it the nut brown? The Scottish? My memory is failing me here, so I’ll have to go back for another visit, put in some proper research time. I think Mrs PC will insist on staying there again. Oh well…

Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Royal BC Museum

Spinnakers

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