wilderness – Page 4 – OldPlaidCamper

Blue and green

And many spring shades in between…

Oh, a more than welcome long weekend, and a chance to slip from the city and head for the hills. Or mountains, once past the foothills. Yoho was calling, a cabin was booked, and report cards will get written. Eventually.

The week before, the forecast was predicting a snow-rain mix and single digit temperatures, so we packed accordingly. Mountain weather is immune or exempt from the dark arts of weather forecasting. Snow-rain mix? That’ll be blue skies, fluffy clouds and temperatures into the teens. Haha, and ok, this made my weekend, already a long one, and now with better than expected outdoor weather. I know, a grown man, and still easily pleased or displeased by the weather…I do love the reliably unreliable mountains!

As we were about to set off towards the Kicking Horse and a short hike, we noticed a hummingbird had settled on a small bush outside the cabin. No way it’ll stay there while I reach for my camera in the backpack I thought to myself, reaching into the backpack for my camera. Well, it did, and the photograph posted is about the best I’ll ever get. What a colourful character! Made my morning even better, having been buzzed by several hummingbirds over morning coffee earlier. Caffeine buzz and hummingbird buzz, a pretty good start to the day.

To the Kicking Horse! Lots of cars, RVs, and a tour bus in the parking lot didn’t bode well. We did the usual, and went in the opposite direction, heading down the trail and wondering as we wandered about bear activity, thinking they’d be far from the noisy crowds. The trail grew quiet as we walked away, and the sun was pleasantly warm on our happy little faces. Fresh air, blue skies, dark evergreens, and bright deciduous spring greens all worked their soothing magic as we strolled along. A few steps off the main trail onto a side trail afforded us slightly precarious but lovely views of the Kicking Horse galloping and tumbling down the valley. Sounds, scents, and sights to delight.

Back on the main trail, we continued descending, still wondering about bear activity. I always find, when in bear country, the further you go the more every large boulder or dark shadow in the trees looks like a bear. It’s all in my head. As the trail snaked down and around a corner in front of us, I spotted another bear like shadow. Nope, it wasn’t moving, carry on. A few steps forward, and a little closer, and the shadow was moving, and so were the two smaller shadows my tired old eyes had missed. A mama bear and two cubs! They’d seen and heard us, likely way before I finally saw them, and as we stood still, they scampered across the trail and up the bank out of sight. What a thrill! What a grip Mrs PlaidCamper had on my arm. She didn’t see the bears – they were quick – but she dragged me away, quite rightly, before my curiosity outweighed my common sense, and we headed back the way we came.

We passed through the crowded parking lot at the trailhead and attempted to wander away from the throngs gathered at the natural land bridge. It is a pretty spot, but best enjoyed early or late, and we were neither. I took a few photographs of the rushing river as we stopped to enjoy the views, and it was all very pleasant, but too busy. We should have arrived far sooner. Never mind – there’s always another day!

We returned to the cabin happy enough, and enjoyed the chance to sit in the warm sun and reflect on our brief bear encounter and the blue green mountain spring.

Thanks for reading, I always appreciate you taking the time, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

I like this because it has a bit of everything – blue water, whitewater, sand, rocks, trees and a sense of depth.

Signs of spring (and a little rant)

The rant comes at the end. It’s not much of a rant, but it is a bit incoherent, so there’s that. Enjoy it if you get down to that part.

We’ve been looking for signs of spring this side of the Rockies. So far, not too much success. There are one or two hints of green beginning to appear on trees and shrubs, a teasing glimpse of what’s to happen (soon, please!)

IMG_20170425_064412 — Tuesday morning walk to work

My morning walk to work on Monday was through sleety rain, and that wasn’t much fun. It was more fun than the Tuesday morning walk through wet snow. Snow that fell on and off throughout the day. It settled for a few hours, but I guess solace could be found in that it mostly melted away by early evening. That thaw, the suggestion of green, and a rising river level is about it for spring to date. Yes, the daytime temperatures are above freezing, but not significantly so.

IMG_20170425_070229 — “Spring” as seen from the train, Tuesday morning.

What’s with the complaining PlaidCamper? Don’t you like winter? Yes, but not when May is here on Monday, and not after our recent west coast trips – we were (are?) spoiled by those warmer, sometimes wetter, but oh so colourful and verdant days…

IMG_20170418_105735 — Vancouver, six days earlier…(I spy green)

A few days in Vancouver last week, at a conference and “working” hard on the coast. The theme was nature and outdoor education. I had to smile at us all shut in a windowless, air conditioned hotel events room, earnestly discussing the importance of being outdoors in green spaces, and the benefits of connecting to nature. To be fair, many of the sessions were outside and hands on. Just as well, because they weren’t likely to contain all those tree huggers in a large room with Stanley Park only a short walk away.

After a morning of fine speeches, impassioned presentations, and information overload, we went on a guided walk through Stanley Park, looking for trees to hug.

Vancouver has a lovely setting, on the water, and surrounded by forests and coastal mountains. Stanley Park is an urban jewel, with pockets that feel wild in between more traditional city park patches. Our guide pointed out many restoration projects centred on the Lost Lagoon, and the balance park officials are trying to achieve between urban dwellers and wild animal inhabitants. Not an easy task, particularly because there’s no overall consensus as to what restoration really means. Restored to pre-nineteenth century habitat? Or even earlier, to before European contact? And how to restore a wilderness that is never in stasis anyway…

DSCF4789 — Get me, I live in Stanley Park

It was a wonderful walk, and an example of how a city can aim to be a greener and more pleasant place through thoughtful planning – even if there are no simple solutions. Given that humans are more likely than ever to find themselves living in cities (regardless of whether that is a first choice for many of us) it seems sensible to expect nature to be included as an essential part of urban planning.

Common sense suggests that we are happier in pleasing and greener environments, and research presented at the conference supported the idea that children (and everyone else?) are more successful in their learning and in themselves when they have ready access to green spaces for play and learning. Simple enough – pleasant environments promote positive physical and mental health. Have we really forgotten that so easily and in a few generations? Are new roads, malls and parking lots more important than play spaces and green places for city dwellers? Dollars before deeper contentment? What’s the real and necessary investment here?

Oh, those recent announcements – regarding the future status of protected wilderness spaces south of the border – have me wondering if (so called) leaders can honestly say they care about or are planning for the longer term health of the planet, or the health of future citizens. I don’t know, is extract, extract, extract, and burn, burn, burn, really the best path forward? Can we talk about a healthy society and a vibrant economy when the air is unbreathable and water is undrinkable? Should we drink the bad water through a straw made from dollar bills and call ourselves wealthy and wise?

I think I’d best stop now, take a deep breath (while we still can) and wish you all a wonderful weekend! I’ll be out looking for signs of spring and calming myself down. I know, it wasn’t much of a rant, but I feel better for it…

IMG_20170417_185216 — Also calming (a very good west coast pale ale – had a second pint, just to be sure…)

Cheers, and thanks for reading!

Washed up

Like an old PlaidCamper feeling his age? Maybe not, although the aches and pains I’ve been enduring in recent months…I could go on about that, but I won’t. Not this week, anyway! A few final photographs in what has turned into a short and unplanned series about our recent Vancouver Island trip. This time, it’s centred around a collection of storm tossed logs we rested by, or on, when we were hiking Long Beach. You’ll see these wooden wonders strewn all along the coast, fringing the beach and in front of the forest.

They are quite huge when you get up close. I can barely roll one of the smaller ones (why did I even try, given my aches and pains? Oops, I forgot – not going there!) so it’s something to imagine the power of the ocean when you see large logs seemingly casually flung up on rocks, or piled atop each other.

An invitation to your inner child, it’s hard to resist scrambling and climbing up them, so I didn’t (resist) and the years fell away and I didn’t fall off. Ship’s spars, broad beams, and possibly logging lumber (?), all evidence of natural forces and cycles greater than our human schemes, and all washed up on the shore for us to ponder and beetle over. PlaidCamper playtime…

It may be the inner child imaginings, but it didn’t take much to think some of the shapes could be sea monsters or beasts from a different time. An overactive imagination, or a lack of caffeine?

Smoothed by the seas, the texture is pleasing, and warmed by the sun, the scent is resiny, slightly oily and medicinal – pleasant enough as we sat and surveyed the beach, the forest, and the surf. An enjoyable pause in our hike, a chance to embrace the elemental and feel alive – and a little less washed up!
Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

The case for colour!

Last week, it was all about grey (In defence of grey…), and I mentioned that I’d put in some colourful photographs this week. True to my word, and because time has been tight once more, here is a brief post with a few brighter pictures from our recent west coast trip. (In defence of grey? The case for colour? Next week, PlaidCamper pleads guilty to the charge of failing to pay due care and attention to post titles…)

I have to say that the west coast is a place I’m happy to hang about whatever the weather, or at least in the conditions we’ve been lucky enough to experience. Haven’t witnessed a true fall/winter storm there, but maybe one day…

IMG_20170329_171642 — A favourite place to sit and drink coffee, and stare and stare…

For our recent trip, we were in rain jackets, then shirtsleeves, then back to a jacket with a toque up top – and often all in the same hour! It was very refreshing, and a pleasantly mild contrast to the mountain/prairie winter weather in and around Calgary.

IMG_20170401_142404 — Mild! (We’ll see these in Calgary as June approaches!)

Pottering about in Ucluelet and Tofino, and wandering up and down quiet beaches gave us time to breathe in and out deeply and slowly. Overcast or bright, rain or shine, this little corner of western Canada is wild and wonderful – a positive Pacific mood enhancer!

It was only a couple of weeks ago we were there, but the call of the Clayoquot region is hard to ignore. Maybe we’ll head back in the summer…

IMG_20170402_110202 — Ucluelet Small Craft Harbour

As always, thank you for taking the time to read this, and have a wonderful (and colourful) weekend!

PS In need of a Tofino fix? Head over to Welcome to Tofino Photography where the photographs will amaze and delight you. Go on, you’ll be glad you did!

In defence of grey…

Grey can get a bad rap. Colourless, dreary, my hair when it was there. Really – and you might think I’m biased being a bit of an old greybeard – as we slowly transition (up here, anyway) from winter to spring, grey is pretty cool. I know we can get impatient this time of year for some bright colour, but let’s show some appreciation for grey…

DSCF4683 — Pretty grey, and pretty cool.

I’ll keep it very brief – when you’re getting a little grey, focus can be a problem – and post a few grey pictures from our short west coast trip last week.

We spent most of our time in Ucluelet and Tofino, and the beaches between. The sun was sometimes out (perhaps I’ll post colourful pictures next week as a contrast?), but even when clouds and rain rolled in, the views were lovely. Or so we thought.

A few days unwinding on the wild side of Vancouver Island was just what the doctor ordered. Dr. PlaidCamper knows what is necessary to keep a grey PlaidCamper right in his head – get him out of the city, if only for a short while. And an old PlaidCamper knows he should listen and take his medicine.

DSCF4678 — Adventurous grey! Better than medicine…

Grey is cool. It’s the new not quite black, and oddly perfect for restoring positive mental health. What do you think, is a little grey really so bad? Probably not…

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend, whatever the colour!

DSCF4697 — Moody grey (quite a good mood!)

DSCF4711 — What’s with this guy and all the grey? Look at me strut – black is the new grey…

Prairie promise

Less of a promise and more of a hint? Of spring, that is.

I was sitting at the top of Dry Island Buffalo Jump earlier this week. The evidence for spring was all around. Prairie dogs were out in the bright sun, squabbling and tussling with each other. I didn’t know they scampered with a skipping jump. I’m more used to seeing them scurry for their holes. The jumping was fun to see. Maybe it was a spring thing?

It was human noise and nonsense free up there. A spring break Monday, I was in desperate need of space, wanting to be out of the city, and finding some quiet. Figuring the mountains might be busy, I headed east instead of west, and once off the highways and onto dirt roads, I could feel the tensions of a long term start to fade.

Some small ponds had a layer of ice, but like the banks of snow in ditches and sheltered spots, it seemed winter was receding. Empty ridge roads, bright sunshine, bare trees, brown fields with a glint of gold, and washed out blue skies were all sights to see.

When I stopped to take a photo of some old shacks (couldn’t resist), the racing shadow of a bird caught my eye. Spinning and scanning, I saw a hawk glide overhead, searching for a meal. At first I thought it was a red-tailed hawk, although the colouring seemed muted, so perhaps it was a rough legged hawk instead? Either way, it was a wonderful moment, and so positive. Unless you’re a prairie dog…

I was hoping to spot another hawk from the buffalo jump but it wasn’t to be. Instead, a wheeling raven soared over the badlands – I could hear the wings beating as it passed. All the sounds were soothing. Birds singing in the bare trees behind me, the grass being torn by the ground squirrels, the buzz of a bee (in March!) and the sound of the Red Deer river, in thaw and flow far below. The last might have been my imagination, or the sound of a light breeze, but I fancied it to be the river.

All the promise of spring! And a promise to myself to lighten up, and take the negative human constructs of our world less seriously. As I get older, I find the world harder to understand. It can’t always be ignored, but I aim to deflect some of the 21st century madness that appears to be on us. It seems far less pressing when you’re atop a prairie buffalo jump!

It was hard to drag myself away, so I didn’t, not immediately. I sat and wrote much of this piece, and hung out a little more with my prairie dog buddies. It was fun simply to hang with the buffalo jump gang.

DSCF4553 — I love the view from up here!

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

That snow rain forest!

Spring is making an appearance. According to the calendar, it is past due – we’ve had a fleeting glimpse in the city, but last week there was a wet hint out in the mountains.

We were in Yoho once again! We woke up to snowfall, and a promising day for snowshoeing. Being active and outdoorsy types, we spent the morning in the cabin, having that all important second cup of coffee. And an even more important third cup.

The snow ceased, and we dragged ourselves outside, ready and able, fully caffeinated for the trail ahead. Yes, the snow had stopped, and oh no, the rain started. Still, it was only a light rainfall, and that wasn’t going to be a problem.

At the trailhead we could see the pathway was well packed, and opted to leave our snowshoes behind. It was easy walking provided you stayed in the centre of the trail, with the only difficulty being if you stepped too far to the left or right and post-holed up to knee height. Being a fast learner, I figured that out by the third or fourth time…

Once into the trees, we thought we’d have more shelter from what was now quite heavy rainfall. This was quite true, although there was no respite from the heavy clumps of snow that began to fall from wet branches. It made for great sights and sounds, but we soon found ourselves running a snow gauntlet. I felt like Clint Eastwood in that old movie. It should be remade as an outdoor adventure movie, with the guns and bullets replaced with rain and snow. I’d go see it.

Being active and outdoorsy types, we were well prepared for cold and snowy weather. Sadly, our cold and snowy gear was doing an effective job of soaking up all the (even heavier) rain. Snow repellent gear isn’t rain repellent gear, or at least, not my jacket. I was gaining weight by the minute. I felt like Steven Seagal in any movie with Steven Seagal.

As the rain continued to fall, the pathway was becoming rather less well packed, and degrading rapidly. It would collapse underfoot without warning, causing a stumble or tumble or two. The falling down – I felt like Michael Douglas in that old movie – and the constant aerial snow bombardment was beginning to take a toll. Lovely though the setting was, I was getting just a bit weary.

We decided to turn back, retracing our steps along the swiftly eroding path. It seemed to be crumbling beneath our feet and before our eyes. I felt like Harrison Ford in one of those old archaeology movies. Plaidcamper Jones and the Doomed Snowshoe Trail. They should make that, and I’m available if Harrison is busy…

Absolutely sodden, but strangely happy, we made it out of the snow rain forest and back to the cabin. Adventurous fun in a white and emerald forest. I felt like an extra in that old movie by John Boorman (ok, I’ll stop that now…)

Exhilarating signs of spring – not buds and birdsong, but rain and snow bombs – had us smiling as we had a cup of of coffee to recover. Hollywood, I know you’re reading this, and you’re very welcome to move ahead with the remakes. I do my own stunts.

Thanks for reading, please feel free to share a story or leave a comment, and have a wonderful weekend!

PS Steven Seagal, I apologize. You are prolific, and I enjoyed the one where you played the president’s chef who also just happened to be ex-special forces. The one set on a train, not the boat one. I’m not ex-special forces, but I am an ex-chef and admire your knife skills. I like trains, too.

The Kicking Horse slide…

…it’ll pick you up! Tired after what seemed a long week, we went back on the trail – the cross country ski trail – and down to the Kicking Horse. Winter gave us another fine afternoon, safely below zero and with the promise of more snow from gathering clouds.

We sped down the hill with a grace that could only reveal my unease at the increasing pace. In another triumph of hope over style and technique, gravity and a previously undiscovered sense of balance delivered me safely to the valley bottom without a tumble. Several times, I considered throwing myself down (a stopping method that has served me well) but the ski gods were smiling, or at least amused, and it wasn’t necessary.

Relieved to be at river level, we kicked on down the trail, tracking the river and happy to be sliding along the flat valley floor. We had it all to ourselves, the entire afternoon spent without seeing another person. Free of witnesses, we strode along mightily on our skis, looking majestic as we ate up the kilometres. Oh alright, so it wasn’t exactly like that, but it’s true about the no witnesses. No one saw me stop for a quick rest, planting my ski pole so firmly into the edge of the trail that it went in over halfway and I fell over. A slow motion sideways slump, and nope, no witnesses. Not even Mrs. PC (I couldn’t keep up…)

I untangled my legs, skis and poles, pushed myself back up, and decided to be less majestic and more careful. Fortunately, the wonderful landscapes provided the real majesty, and with each steady kilometre I could feel the cares of the week fall away. Further into the woods and along the river meant a growing sense of calm, and we were both grateful for that. We enjoy the work we do, but it is pleasant to put it to one side for a while, and simply be somewhere else. Each step, kick and glide makes you stronger, happy to be in the present, and recharges you for whatever might be ahead. I think it’s hard to be out hiking, or on skis or snowshoes, and feel burdened…

By the time we returned to the start, we were (I was) physically tired yet mentally restored, and feeling strong, like a kicking horse. I love how that seeming contradiction can work!

Thanks for reading, here’s hoping you get or you are outside, and have a wonderful weekend!

Snow on bare bones

Really, PlaidCamper? What horrors have you endured?

No, nothing grisly here, quite the opposite! A post about bones, snow, quiet, and a book you might enjoy.

We were on snowshoes down by the Bow and Baker Creek a short while ago. Snow was falling, and the trees had a good coating. The wind had less teeth in the trees, and although temperatures were low, conditions were just right for tramping. And there were bare bones everywhere…

Maybe the roads were still relatively difficult to make travel out of the city an easy prospect, but returning from Yoho we saw no other traffic on the Bow Valley Parkway, other than a snow plow, and we parked up and had the trails to ourselves. Always an introvert, with a tendency towards being a touch anti-social on my time off, this was a special morning. Two PlaidCampers, deep snow, empty trails, and a backpack full of snacks? Let’s go!

Having spent a few winters lumbering along in snowshoes, I’ve developed a (slightly sad?) obsession with types of snow. There is a difference in what falls where in the mountains. On the BC side, the snow is almost a given – or as close to a given you can get in these post truth global warming days. It will often be deep, and it will often be wet and heavy. On snowshoes, heavy snow is fine if you’re second on the trail, but if you’re first – and if you’re me – it’s a workout. I’ve been known to hang back at a trailhead because I’m anti-social or quiet, but the other truth is I’m letting fellow hikers do my heavy lifting. I know, I know.

On the Alberta side of the mountains, snowfall isn’t as certain compared with further west, but when it falls it is light and powdery. Yes, I prefer to snowshoe through the powder. I’ll hit that trail and cheerfully blast a brave path through unbroken snow, leading the way and selflessly helping those who are to follow later in the day. It’s a workout, but I’m happy to help. I know, I know.

What about the bare bones that were everywhere? Tree bones! The light and the snow last week seemed to reveal the beauty of the trees in sharp, near black and white. We could see the tree bones laid bare. Alright, perhaps an overactive imagination here. I’ll admit to borrowing tree bones from Peter Wohlleben, and his wonderful book, The Hidden Life of Trees, written in part about the forest in Germany he attends to.

Highly recommended as a thoughtful and off centre read about trees, I thoroughly enjoyed Wohlleben telling how, over many years, he redefined his relationship to the trees he works with, evolving from logger to conservationist. His notions about trees being a “wood wide web” of communicating and social entities, beings that taste and smell, are a challenge to conventional thinking. He isn’t a sentimental tree hugger, he acknowledges trees have a commercial value, and he explores and explains different, less destructive approaches to harvesting.

It’s a great book to read if you enjoy thinking about other ways of looking at the world, and different ways of measuring time or wealth. Preaching to the choir here, but when you consider the beauty and complexity of a single tree, and how that single tree impacts the environment of thousands of other living creatures, then how wonderful is a stand of trees? A woodland? A forest?

As Wohlleben says, trees ought to be beyond the status of inanimate objects like stones or boulders, but because in human measured time they appear static (beyond seasonal shifts), we mistake them as slow or unchanging and ripe for (poorly thought out) commercial exploitation. Well, you might enjoy the book.

We certainly enjoyed our deep powder snowshoe hike along the riverbanks and through the trees. As we retraced our steps, I was hoping to spot the dipper we’ve seen several times along this stretch. I’d just told myself to be content with the day, dipper or no dipper, when I caught sight of it out the corner of my eye. Splashing and bobbing upstream, then dipping below the surface to pop up a few metres downstream, this was a fine way to complete our walk. No dipper photos, but a happy memory.

Thanks for reading, please feel free to share a story, and have a wonderful weekend!

Thin and persistent

Like an old PlaidCamper? No, like the snow that fell all day. A short piece this week about a short walk last week.

With temperatures hovering around -15C, and the snow being blown and thrown around by sharp gusts, we decided to wrap up and snowshoe in the shelter of trees. Swaddled and waddling, I really wasn’t too persistent or thin, especially when we tried to forge through deep snow. As an excuse for my lack of persistence, I’ll offer up the sore back I’ve been nursing the past few weeks. It has slowed me down, but the bonus has been the chance to take and make more frequent stops, and really absorb our natural surroundings.

So I couldn’t make much headway along the trail, but when we stopped and sat in a snow bank to eat a snack, the quiet was delightful. Grains of snow rustled and pitter-pattered on our packs and jackets. The near silence was seductive, and only the cold seeping through snow pants got us up and moving once more.

Distant views were obscured, with mountains being more of a suggestion than a reality in the murk. This made us focus in more of a close up way, prompting a readjustment and shrinking of vision, and that wasn’t a bad thing.

We followed a less difficult path, down to the Kicking Horse and towards the sounds of rushing and splashing water. Each riverbank was frozen, with deep snow covering ice layers. Here and there, and mostly in the middle, were stretches of flowing water. The exposed flow, tumbling and racing over blue-grey river rocks, made for some lovely sights and sounds.

Maybe not the finest day weather wise to be out and about – no bright blue skies or fat falling flakes – chilly, windy and grey could be one way to describe the day, but there was plenty to see and savour in a more muted way.

Thanks for reading, I always appreciate you taking the time, and have a wonderful weekend!

	Miriam on Pondering the ponderosas…
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	plaidcamper on Pondering the ponderosas…