wilderness – Page 7 – OldPlaidCamper

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!

DSCF2606 — Looking up (couldn’t catch a raven!)

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.

DSCF2639 — Beautiful singer, blurry picture

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.

DSCN6829 — Stop here! (Is there a hint of seal about the driftwood?)

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!

Balance

After the woes of last week, I thought it might be appropriate to redress the balance, and get back on an even (and optimistic) keel.

We took a group of students out to a provincial park, with the stated curriculum goals being connected to learning more about Alberta’s trees and forests. No problem, and straightforward enough! Identify a tree, record a leaf shape, and recognize an animal or two. But there’s the curriculum, and then there’s the hidden curriculum. Don’t tell anyone, but it’s the hidden curriculum that I find more interesting, and where a demonstration of deeper learning and real connection often occurs.

We hugged trees – we really did, and who cares if anyone’s watching? – and smelt and touched the bark, and the leaves, and the needles. We got a bit sticky with pine resin. We took stock of all the signs and traces of interdependence between plants, insects, birds and mammals for one single tree. We decided one single tree is a thing of beauty and wonder. Well, that begged the question, if one tree is a natural miracle, how about two trees? A stand of trees? An entire forest? All the trees on the planet? Heady thoughts, and the students were smiling about it.

The children loved being in the woods. They were excited to be there, (and to be out of a regular classroom) and were able to enthuse and enjoy without climbing where they shouldn’t, without breaking branches, without disturbing habitat, or dropping any trash. For a large group of rising thirteen year olds, they were also pretty quiet! Quiet enough to see and not startle a mule deer feeding only a few metres away…I don’t have a picture, but it was beautiful – both the deer, and student reaction!

My day was made when two boys, unbidden, took it upon themselves to pick up all the pieces of a broken styrofoam cup they found strewn in the undergrowth. They told me they were concerned for the health and habitat of a squirrel they’d observed nearby. Now, we should all pick up litter, ours or not, that’s kind of a given, but after the appalling behaviour we witnessed last week, these boys raised my spirits. They are two young gentlemen who sometimes find themselves challenged with making good decisions, but they didn’t hesitate to do the right thing when they saw an environment in need. Real character and global citizenship at the micro level. Thank you, boys!

(It makes me wonder, what excuse did our fellow campers from last week have to be so callous towards the environment? Presumably they were educated? To be clear, they weren’t just out of high school or college, not that that excuses anything. They were “grown ups” in their late twenties and early thirties. Hmm…but let’s not go there again, PlaidCamper, it’s not good for your health!)

Keeping it brief this week, and as I said at the top, the real reason for writing this little piece is to restore the balance and get back to being optimistic. I think we have reasons to be cheerful when we see younger generations show they care about the planet. Here’s hoping they don’t lose that compassion and consideration as they “grow up”…

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

Elbow woes…mountain misery…

…and an old guy rant. I wasn’t sure about posting this piece, as it is not exactly the usual. I enjoy taking an upbeat and positive approach to OldPlaidCamper, because there are plenty of other places to find a downbeat and negative approach. I try to be an optimist, but was somewhat challenged to find the positive on a recent camping trip. Anyway, be warned, and read no further if you’re after regular PlaidCamper fare…

You work hard enough all week, in a job you enjoy, but when the weekend comes along you might be good and ready to clock off, and get out camping for the weekend. The previous couple of evenings have been spent dusting off the necessary gear, sorting provisions, and tracking down the bear and bug spray. It’s the first time out for camping this year, and the weather forecast says fine. Alright! Into the car, and off to the Elbow Valley in Kananaskis country.

There are a fair number of smallish campgrounds strung out along the valley, so getting a spot on a Friday by heading out early shouldn’t be an issue. First campground, full. OK, moving on. Sorry, full. Will we find a spot? Not looking good, but let’s go on just a little further. Yes! One walk in spot left, and we’ll take it, thank you very much!

Tent up – we remembered how – and coffee on, fire pit prepared, a cold beer for later, and everything is groovy. It’s only a small loop, all walk ins, and no loud music playing, so better than groovy. (I’ve been listening to quite a bit of Big Star and Neil Young recently. What can I say? Groovy!) Tall trees, light breeze, and the faint sound of the river not too far away. A mountain retreat, and peaceful pine delight. Oh yeah.

A little further up from our site, a couple joins another couple, loud welcomes, but why not? It’s the weekend and time to meet up with good friends. Then a group of four joins the first four, and more loud welcomes are exchanged. Gets a little louder, but hey, friends with friends, and on the weekend and all. You’d be pleased and excited, out in the sunshine. Then another couple arrives. And is that another couple? Hold on. An f-bomb is dropped. Ouch! Not necessary. Not cool. But maybe it was a one off, a bizarre ritual designed to establish maturity credentials…Beers are cracked, and why not have a cold one on a warm evening? We intend to. Another f-bomb, then another, and a few more beers. Oh dear. Bombs away.

Hey! Stop with the language! Thank you!

Well, that worked for a short while. After a few more beers, the volume of the conversation went up as the tone went down. On went the music. My earlier plea appeared to have fallen on deaf ears. Did I mention the two unleashed dogs? I’m not bothered if they’re well trained, but these were running all over, and dogs do like to chase squirrels if they can get away with it. They sure were getting away with it. It must be hard to keep an eye on your dog when you’re busy exchanging witty banter, using words that rhyme with itch, duck and hit. Heady stuff.

Writing this is sending my blood pressure up. Just a little. I’m no shrinking violet, and I scowled, glared and stomped my way about. Quiet time, according to the bulletin board, is between 11pm and 7am, so technically, too bad, PlaidCamper. Here are a few gems:

Sara, can you see my dick? (Huh? No. Is it very small?)

A butterfly. A f*#king butterfly. F*#king nature! (Huh?)

F*#king European tent! I hate f*#king European tents! (Huh? Just European tents?)

F*#k me? F*#k you! (I know, isn’t that a zinger?)

Bear bait, bear bait, bear bait! (This was chanted when trash was dropped. How I wished – sort of – for a bear, but that’s not fair on the bear…)

These were the good ones…I could go on, give you more details, but my heart isn’t in it. I’ll simply share the fact that quiet time meant nothing to this particular group. 2am and the jollity finally stopped.

Ok. I’ll be the old so and so, the miserable old fart who simply doesn’t get it. Whatever the it may be. Here I go:

Why? Why bother coming out to a beautiful forested campground located in a stunning river valley flanked by mountains, a place you’ll be sharing with other campers, if you don’t appreciate it? Is it actually a location screaming “get blind drunk and be obnoxious!”? Is it really possible for a group of human beings to be so out of touch with their surroundings? With their fellows? Is it a lack of self-confidence, an inability to express appreciation, or fear, that causes such inane behaviour? The witlessness and callous disregard for people and place was truly astonishing.

I’m perfectly happy to be labeled a miserable old so and so, out of touch or just not with it, but really, is there a need to be so self-absorbed, entitled, and, well…brattish, to the point where you cannot care for the planet you live on? Or the people around you? I don’t get it, this behaviour, and I’m hoping it isn’t a growing trend:

Poor behaviour at Yellowstone

DSCF2539 — Witless, crass, moronic, inane, pathetic, depressing, sad, pointless, and why me? So sad this squirrel had to see and hear such poor behaviour…

I do understand people have differing agendas and ideas about how the outdoors should be enjoyed, but surely it can’t be too hard to see what ought to be acceptable in our treasured natural spaces? There are far worse problems facing our world, but honestly, when you hope for a pleasant weekend, what a disappointment. I’m going to leave the negativity here, I think, and hope for happier camping trips ahead.

Time to get back to being positive. I love camping, and although I enjoy quiet, that isn’t an expectation at a shared campground. I’ve sat by the fire late at night many a time, nursing a beer and smiling in the dark as the flames from other campfires flicker through the trees. I like to imagine all these different campers by their fires, mostly strangers to each other, but, across Canada and the US, joined in a similar delight, connected by the experience of being outdoors on a warm weekend, and appreciating their good fortune. Now, that’s not too hard, or too much to expect, is it?

At least the weekend ended on a positive note…

Thanks for reading! Please feel free to share a (happier?) story or leave a comment – it’s always appreciated – 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!

Spring time, and a long weekend – 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.

Smith-Dorrien Highway (later in the day)

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!

After a cold day, this seemed about right!

A mountain rush

We managed a quick mountain fix last weekend, just enough of a boost to push us on through the next few weeks. It’s almost report card season, and the end of academic year activities are starting to loom. Not the worst position to be in, but a short and steep mountain hike helped recharge and refocus.

We had a few hours, so opted to try the Grassi Lakes trail just outside Canmore. This is a relatively easy hike, barely 4km there and back, with wonderful views over the Canmore town site.

The trail is named after Canmore resident Lawrence (Lorenzo) Grassi, an Italian who arrived in Canmore in 1912. He reportedly left his home because he needed to get something to eat! A coal miner in Canmore, he spent his free time building trails and acting as a mountain guide. He was so loved in Canmore, there is a school named after him, as well as a mountain and the lake trail. What a wonderful legacy!

We hiked in bright sunshine and with temperatures nudging the high teens centigrade. Too soon for bugs, it was very pleasant to be out.

The trail forks, with the right hand gravel road being the easiest, and most accessible option. Don’t use it unless you have to – the more challenging left fork has the best views over the valley and takes in a waterfall. Go this way! Towards the top of the trail there are a few steep steps, and the steps have a higher reach than average, but if you’re moderately (or almost moderately) fit, there’s no real effort involved – or the real effort is mercifully brief…I was only stopping to take a photograph.

One or two parts of the trail had spring meltwater flowing across, creating muddy and slippery sections, but proper footwear and a little caution took care of any chance of a fall. I wish I could say all the fellow hikers we encountered had adequate footwear…flip flops? On a mountain trail? Hmm. Perhaps that’s the fashion – I expect the local ER staff are very understanding.

DSCN6673 — Be kind to yourself, and wear suitable shoes!

The lakes at the top of the trail are quite beautiful. The clear water is blue-green in certain light, and catches the reflection of the delightful surroundings. The cliff faces above the lakes are popular with climbers, although the jumble of scattered rocks at the bottom made me wonder about how secure the climbers were. It’s a different sort of mountain high, I guess, and not one I have a head for.

If you have the chance and the time to take a little hike up this trail, I’d recommend it. My suggestion would be to go mid-week or set off early at the weekend, as the slight downside is the number of people who might have the same excellent idea for a brief hike.

We thoroughly enjoyed our time on the trail and at the top, making the most of the lovely legacy of Lorenzo Grassi. A quick fix of fresh mountain air, beautiful blues and bright greens, and all in the spring sunshine. An easy addiction, and hard habit to break (who’d want to?!)

When we returned home, we celebrated the day with an appropriate ale: Thanks for reading. As always, please feel free to share a story or leave a comment, and have a wonderful weekend!

Big skies and big adventures

Prairie road trips can get your imagination going into overdrive!

Spending so much time in the foothills and on the plains is great for storytelling. You might be getting away or heading towards something in all that open ground. The huge spaces are canvases for wonderful stories, real or imagined, like a giant screen on which to project our tales. But as I’ve said in other posts, the scenery is often so much more than a background for stories. It can be a vital character, or help reveal character. It can shape events, and encourage us to confront what is real or important. In fact, the background becomes the foreground, goes from being passive to active, alive, and sometimes kicking.

I was thinking about this whilst watching an entertaining little movie, Cop Car (dir. Jon Watts, Focus 2015) recently. A road movie/coming of age drama/crime thriller, it is a new addition to my favourite outdoor or wilderness movies. As before, I’ve likely stretched the definition of what makes an outdoor or wilderness movie, and decided Cop Car fits the bill. For the most part, the tale is told under vast skies, on rural roads and along two lane blacktops snaking through golden grasslands. So, definitely an outdoor movie (or an almost outdoors movie!)

The story is quite simple, almost plotless. Two young runaway boys stumble over an “abandoned” police car and take it for a joy ride. The corrupt police officer wants his car back because there is incriminating evidence in the trunk. That’s pretty much the set up. What elevates the piece is a fine performance by Kevin Bacon, sporting a tremendous moustache and in fine scary bad cop mode. The outstanding use of the Colorado grasslands creates an unusual setting for all the drama. These elements, plus a short running time and economical script, combine to create a gripping tale. It’s rural noir! The details are all there – late model cars, old pick up trucks, lots of dust, and the occasional cow – if the movie had been shot in an urban setting, it would have been less effective.

It opens with the two young boys walking across the grasslands, repeating curse words, verbally testing where they are prepared to push the boundary, where they might cross a line. It’s a dare. They reach a literal boundary, a barbed wire fence, and choose to climb through, and push on in their attempt to escape whatever is behind them. Each time they dare each other and achieve a minor success, we know they are in fact digging themselves a deeper hole. You feel for them, recognizing their need to escape, but knowing they probably can’t.

IMG_20160410_133255 — Bridge over the Red Deer River (and bugs on windshield)

If this all seems a bit downbeat, you might be right. However, there is an enjoyable vein of black humour and sly wit running through the movie. An example is when one boy leans over to check the speedometer, and the needle is barely flickering on 30mph. He glances at his buddy doing the driving, and then resignedly slumps back in his seat, choosing to say nothing. Haven’t we all been there?!

Parts of the movie reminded me of Rob Reiner’s wonderful Stand By Me, where the rhythm and flow of serious, yet essentially innocent, childhood conversations are captured with such clarity. Like Stand By Me, the boys treat their situation and surroundings as a big adventure, obviously mimicking what they’ve seen on TV or read in books. You know that their relative innocence is going to be lost as the story unfolds, and they become entangled in affairs beyond their understanding. When they find the police officer’s weapons and use them as toys, it is almost too hard to watch.

IMG_20160410_150258 — Wide open spaces (of Alberta)

Because the story takes place in the wide open spaces of eastern Colorado, there is nobody about to assist the children. They are left to their own devices. The prairie setting gives the story the necessary room to breathe, the space for it to unfold. The beauty of the landscape is a contrast to the brutality of the adult characters.

There is a sense of unease throughout the movie, contrasting with the humour that raises a smile even as it unsettles the viewer because we fear for the boys. The sight of a bathrobe-clad criminal, rifle in hand, hopping from small bush to small bush by the roadside, searching for a place to make an ambush, is both funny and disturbing. And how about playing with conventions? The cop car as getaway car? A cop stealing a car? This is a movie full of small delights.

The boys’ youthful naivety in trusting adults at face value is painful, and made worse by their geographical isolation from potential help. You may predict how it will all play out, but you stay with it because it is played out so well, and in stunning locations. It might not suit all tastes, but I enjoyed Cop Car for being a little different, a blood and dust prairie road trip worth taking.

IMG_20160507_155043 — Take a prairie trip

The movie doesn’t do much for police recruitment in rural Colorado, but it might encourage those in search of their own (peaceful) big adventures to take a road trip out that way. Big skies and big landscapes await you! Just don’t be tempted by an apparently empty police cruiser…

As always, please feel free to share a story or leave a comment. Have you seen Cop Car? Maybe you’ll catch it this weekend, or it’ll catch you! (All of the photos here were taken the past few weeks in Alberta during our prairie explorations – not Colorado, but a pretty good stand in!)

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…)

IMG_20160430_155328 — Good place for a short hike

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.

IMG_20160430_144747 — Unimpressed – and grainy

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!

	Maria on A short trip…
	plaidcamper on A short trip…
	Maria on A short trip…
	plaidcamper on Striding out…
	plaidcamper on Winter mountain hush