Pony up…

…I was going to write some more about Brexit, straight from the horse’s mouth, as it were, based on our recent trip. However, I simply don’t have the energy or enthusiasm for it, mostly because I’ve been silly enough to keep following events (non-events?) since returning home. I cannot believe, at this late hour, politicians – remain or leave – are unable to pony up on this – and we’re already past one “not to be missed” deadline! So instead, I’ll write a bit about our Cornish adventures, and include a picture of a pony…

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“Brexit? Neigh…”

Whenever we visit Ma PlaidCamper down in Cornwall, we find some time to tramp the trails on the Cornish coastal path, and it is always a treat! Rain or shine – and we were lucky to have almost shine – this path is one to savour. We enjoyed a day that more than hinted at spring. Wildflowers were mere minutes from appearing (I’m betting some bloomed the next day!), rabbits were bounding and bouncing, birds were singing, one or two bumblebees buzzed and hummed in and out of the hedgerows, and Shetland ponies were happily grazing along the cliff tops. All this in the first few minutes! Spring! Boing!

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“There’s a cafe just past the beach behind the next headland, hidden in a cove. You can’t miss it!” It’s the tiny white blob. A good place to stop.

Often, the cliff tops are wind blasted, and that, combined with copious mud underfoot can make things challenging. This time out, a relatively lengthy dry spell just before our visit, and an almost windless day meant we had benign conditions. With the sun making an occasional appearance through the mist and haze, we found the walking very pleasant, long stretches along the tops punctuated by steep and short up and downs between coves. Fully loaded with snacks and a light lunch, and a brief-that-turned-long stop at a cafe for coffee, our day on the path was about as good as it can be.0B6961C7-576D-4E40-82D7-5425C33C094E

This isn’t a path to be rushed, and why would you with varied views to take in as you round headland after headland? The springy turf invites you to stop and sit, so we did, time after time. Our light lunch became a long lunch, and the timing was just right as the sun shone for a lengthy spell, burning off misty remnants and turning the grey waters blue.

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Lunch stop

We couldn’t spend the entire day on the path, as we had plans to meet up with friends and family at a local pub, and a pint or two of Tribute pale ale to test – it passed, with flying colours.

Parents with small dogs was a bit of a theme this trip. Blue lives with my dad, and Bertie lives with mum. Bertie is the most energetic dog in the world, and luckily for him, he is hilarious with it. He reminded me of an extra from a Wallace and Gromit movie…

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Bertie!

The noise and nonsense of Brexit aside, we thoroughly enjoyed our trip. Family, friends, lovely scenery, silly (not really) dogs, beer, and the hugely necessary British sense of humour (how else can a nation survive the Brexit debacle?) all added up to a great time.

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

British stuff

A few years ago, back in Calgary, I taught a wonderful young man, MW, and he had a real talent for drawing funny cartoons. Before he was born, he and his mother suffered terrible abuse at the hands of his biological father, and as a result, MW’s brain ended up wired differently.11F3020D-222F-406B-9F5E-80F66078F30F

MW sees the humorous side of life, and he enjoyed some work we did reading “A Christmas Carol” and watching the movie version starring Jim Carrey. MW drew a cartoon strip retelling the story, and one frame he drew was of Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Past flying over the wintry British countryside. MW labeled this panel “British Stuff” and I always smile and think of MW when back in Blighty.

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“Hello? Hello? Operator, could you please connect me to a sensible politician? Hello?”

Last I heard, MW is still drawing funny cartoons, and still making his teachers and peers laugh when they read them. He’s in high school now, and it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if, one day, he has his cartoons published for a wider audience.

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We fort (spoken with a Sarf London accent) this Roman remnant was rather wonderful – a link to an early European past (no doubt, rabid Brexiters would ask “Well, what did the Romans ever do for us?” and complain about subjugation and taxes. And then not mention stone buildings, central heating, good roads, different food, new ideas, and short skirts for men. Yes, we’re British dammit, through and through. Not a mix of Vikings, Goths, Visigoths, Normans, Angles, Saxons, Jutes, Indians, Africans, Jamaicans and many other groups I can’t even remember. Oh stop it PlaidCamper. Brexit means Brexit. Hey ho…)

Anyway, all of the above serves to explain the title for this week, and the few random photographs I’ve chosen from our recent British trip. Away from the noise and nonsense of Brexit, we were able to be charmed by little glimpses of “British stuff” on our travels. (Goodness me, doesn’t that last photograph have a long and incoherent caption? It’s like I’m tired, tetchy, and jet lagged…)

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Our next vehicle? If only…

A brief post as I struggle with some of the worst jet lag I’ve ever experienced – making sense at work this week has been something of a challenge! Still, it’s great to travel and visit with friends and family, and it’s also great to return home and calm things down a little. I won’t describe the teary eyed reunion we had with Scout the other day, but I will say it was a joy to see her again. Obviously, I must have had grit in my eye.

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British institution

I’ll unpack my bags properly in the next day or two, and I’ll unpack some more of our trip on here in the next week or two. Yup, be warned, there will be a bit more British stuff to come, and perhaps it will be a bit more coherent…

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A drop or two of good British stuff

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

Eskdale exertions

Exhausted after our extreme Eskdale exertions? Yup, it wasn’t easy going up hill and over dale in somewhat wet conditions, but we enjoyed every step, every minute of our Lakeland experience. Even the soggy socks after getting sucked into a deep bog…

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Up and over

A brief post this week, written in haste and hopeful that a pub internet connection will see this one get out. Still staying in pubs? You bet, and we’ve enjoyed every minute and every pint in hospitable hostelries. It’s going to be hard to tear ourselves away, but for the good of our waistlines, we will soon be heading back to Canada.

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Never rains here…

I’m letting the photographs tell the story this week, and I hope some notion of the very best hillwalking we’ve enjoyed comes through. Unless it is obviously a stream, most of the water in these pictures is actually flowing along the trail. We splish-splashed across, into, through and over, and it was all the same – completely exhilarating!4DE0D5D4-9B43-4187-B2D1-1610205C0461.jpeg

We were very fortunate on our two hiking days up there, getting a short sharp rain shower in the first hour of each morning, and then it remained dry. Always threatening another downpour, this only added to the dramatic landscape, and made us feel very content when we made it back down (mostly) dry.

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Lunch stop

We stayed at The Woolpack Inn, and if you’re ever in the area, I highly recommend this pub. Hearty breakfasts set you up, and good food and great beer do just the job when you return. From the front door, there are any number of trails to take, ranging from easy strolls to full on scree-scrambling and routes more akin to climbing than hiking.

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Splendid stout

What a wonderful place! Might stay here next time:A590A11B-1855-4622-A2B8-D46ABCC885C6Thanks for reading, and have a great weekend!

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Bewilderment, a bridge, some beer, and a small blue dog

Here we are in pre-Brexit Britain, and what a state they are in…

As visitors, we’ve listened with a sympathetic ear, and then dulled the pain and propped up the economy by making sizeable contributions to the beer and hospitality industry.

On the Brexit front, conversations participated in and overheard have left the impression that regular folks are exhausted, disappointed with leadership, and baffled and bewildered by what might (or might not) happen next. With the deadline a mere two weeks away, it appears uncertainty rules the land.

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The Ironbridge iron bridge

We’ve been happily catching up with friends and family, and happily staying in pubs and forcing ourselves to drink a variety of on tap beers. The Bird in Hand, a pub dating back to the early 1700s, was our first rest stop, and it was delightful. Brasses on the wall, black and white timbered interior, a location above the fast-flowing Severn River in the Ironbridge valley – birthplace of the industrial revolution, and now a pretty world heritage site – we were cocooned in essence of English pub. Steve, the friendly landlord, recommended the Cheltenham Gold, and who were we to argue? A wonderful pint.

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Old Speckled Hen and a pint of Cheltenham Gold? Balm for the Brexit blues…

From Ironbridge we had a short drive up to my Dad’s hillside farm in Wales, and it being Wales, we were treated to sunshine, sleet, snow and rain all within minutes of each other. We were also treated to green valleys, fields of sheep, and thousands of daffodils. A host, even…

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Green

Meandering conversations by the wood burner, fuelled by coffee and something a little stronger, are what is best about visiting with Mr. and Mrs. Old OldPlaidCamper, and we were sorry, as always, to be moving on when we left. We did leave with a smile, because we got to meet my Dad’s newish canine companion, his four legged best friend (he denied it, never one to admit sentiment toward a furry friend, but we weren’t fooled one bit) and this was Blue, the prettiest little daschhund you’ll ever see!

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Blue!

Mrs. Old OldPlaidCamper is a big fan of wolves, and she’s looking forward to the day we manage to photograph one out on the coast. We send her pictures of Scout doing wolf impressions, but she isn’t fooled.

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Not a wolf?

As I write this, we are sitting in The Woolpack Inn, an old pub located a short hike from Hardknott Pass and Roman fort. Their Hardknott Pass golden ale is just the ticket. We thought so after one pint, and this was confirmed by the second.

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Gold

Weather permitting, or not permitting, we are heading out shortly to take in the views, with heavy rain and strong winds being our likely companions as we stride onwards and upwards. We know there’ll be a pint of something good when we head back down, and my brother should have arrived – he’ll be nursing his own glass of something good, and holding a space for us by the fire…

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They heard we were visiting…

The internet is sketchy here, so I hope this makes it out. Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

Departure (and letting things go)

It’s good to let things go. If you read on, a word of warning – this might not be about what you think it could be about. Just saying…

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Departure point

A departure from my recent regular schedule as Mrs. PC and I head off for a visit to dear old Blighty. Life on the road and in the air is generally fun, and access to internet permitting, I’ll aim to have something to post each Friday. Most of our time over there will be spent in the wild and woolly west of the country, so lots of hill-walking, pubs, old buildings, pubs in old buildings, coastal scenery and pubs for rest and recuperation. And rain. The real reason to be there is catching up with family and friends, and that means a bit less hiking and a lot more pubs. Oh, ok, if we must.

Last week was rain free, and the weekend out in the forest was a cold, dry and sunny one. We had over thirty boys, youth and young men, active and eager to learn land based traditional practices away from the distractions of the modern world. These fine young people are shaping up to be the leaders, protectors and providers for their communities in future years, drawing on skills and teachings shared by present day elders. It was a delight to be there and see the growth in esteem and abilities.

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We had to stop archery on the beach – too dark to find the arrows!

These boys looked out for and after each other, showing great responsibility in the boats, setting up camp, sharing the cooking, or teaching and learning archery. It’s something of a cliche, but it’s true to say eyes and faces were shining all weekend long. Even when one of the boats broke down as we were heading back, and there was a possibility of being delayed and stranded on a small island! These guys took it in their stride – I don’t think they wanted to head back as soon as we had to…

There was much laughter, singing and drumming around the fire, and stories from previous outings and experiences were shared, with a strong thread of humour running through many of the tales told.

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Story time

I’ll leave you with one story shared by J. He’s a quiet young man, growing into his role as a leader, and becoming more comfortable with using his voice in a group situation. He is rarely in a rush to speak, but when he chooses to, he’s a wonderful deadpan storyteller. He told me the following:

“I was invited to a gathering by another nation. We went by boat to their island and stayed in their longhouse. The food was good, and there was plenty, so I filled up. I am lactose intolerant and hadn’t realized how much cheese I’d eaten until my belly started to tell me. I couldn’t ignore the rumbling and asked a neighbour for directions to the outhouse. It wasn’t far, but it was dark, and I couldn’t find it. My need grew so great that I had to let things go before I found the outhouse. Luckily, I seemed to be in a small clearing with leafy trees all around. I needed many leaves.

The next morning, I joined a group setting off to explore some of the nearby trails. We went around a corner, and there, in the middle of the trail was a large pile of poo and leaves. It wasn’t left by a bear. Everyone was horrified. Who would do such a thing when the outhouse was so close? I was horrified as well, but I did not say why.”

J was laughing when he told this story, and then he started to grimace. His belly was beginning to rumble right then.

“It’s ok! This is better than an outhouse!” he cried, grabbing a shovel and heading away from the fire, a man on a mission.

There are plans to build an outhouse one day, along with a longhouse to make the traditional camp more appealing and accessible to all who visit, but until then, it’s grab a shovel and dig.

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Heading home

I think J is right about how it is good to let things go. I’ll stop there, and you’re probably quite relieved about that.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

Inspiration Point!

A name like that deserves an exclamation point! Or two!8EE130C4-12E4-4E77-A9AA-CF4A6BBF7FEE

A very short post this week, as I’ve mismanaged my time and I’m now scrambling on Thursday evening to prepare for a wilderness weekend away with youth. Fortunately, I’m not the main planner for the coming weekend. I just have to remember some spare socks and a bottle of water. Well, perhaps a few items more – like the new lightweight solo tent I’ll be trying out, one that is rated for winter yet still weighs little more than a pair of socks. I’m excited about that. The tent, not the socks.

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Inspiration Point was where Scout insisted we go last weekend. After a morning of showers, we made the most of a weather window to hit the coastal path. Scout dragged me through brush and over rocks, around trees and across streams, and almost over a rainbow. We had a great hike, resting up on different overlooks and sunny spots around Inspiration Point. It was rather inspiring, warming ourselves in the sunshine, listening to the crash of waves below, watching the bald eagles and other bird life getting on with their lives.

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Yes, inspiring, exhilarating and hard to drag ourselves away. Not so hard for Scout because she was in full adventure mode, whereas I knew I was supposed to be sorting myself for the trip away, but was happily engaged in doing nothing in the sun as a displacement activity. It’s an effort to gear up, but a worthwhile effort.

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This weekend is meant to be below seasonal norms for temperatures, but bright and sunny. I’ll take that over a rainy forecast, and if it is dry, we’ll count ourselves lucky, as we’re heading out to a location reputed to be the second wettest for rain in Canada.79C1E966-AD1F-4563-8F8F-46853EC4B90B

Right, time to end this piece, and finish the gearing up that I never really started last weekend. Rain or shine, it’ll be fine, because I’ve already packed spare socks. Just about ready. Why, I’m almost prepared…

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Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

Snow daze

Snow, so much snow!

I was a touch unsure how good the snow was going to be at Mt. Washington last week. I also thought it might be warm, relatively speaking, for skiing and snowboarding. Well, I was wrong about all of that.

There was so much snow, and the first day we got there, it was cold. Minus 3C, but with a windchill into the minus double digits. When our young people jumped out of the minivans, they were still dressed for the coast. Within thirty seconds, bags were being raided to find as much warm clothing as possible. I’m telling the truth when I say one person managed to put on 5 hoodies! Snow dazed!7A056C51-0664-47AD-B6D3-5AE2C7BB7037

It was such fun to be out in the snow with a group wanting to learn to ski and ride. They had boundless energy and enthusiasm – even after the lessons started, and they realized how challenging it can be at first. Two out of fifteen had had a previous lesson, and it showed. These two were carving steady S turns pretty quickly, and some of the others, newbies, weren’t too far behind.F81EB35F-1340-4296-ABFD-0C1707BBD5B2

I’m happy to report my return to snowboarding was a triumph, if measured by how many times I saved myself after catching an edge. No falls, but plenty of wobbles. Danger is my middle name. Or is it safety?F607A3F1-6958-4852-A8DF-BA74D332DA1A

The tube park was a big hit. Safe and speedy fun for creaky kids of all ages, the young ones had a blast, and I had a go or two, enduring gentle mocking for not wanting to be spun around as I was sent on my way.9C3F06AF-3A6A-427D-8011-455B9751614A

If you’re ever on Vancouver Island in the winter, and you’re missing some alpine action, I can highly recommend Mt. Washington. It’s a quiet hill, even when they said it was a busy day, compared to other places, and very well run, with friendly and helpful staff from the rental shop all the way to the lifts. As well as the downhill action, you can also choose to xc ski or snowshoe on what looked to be well maintained trails.

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I’ll be sitting back and resting up this weekend…

Since returning, on a high and in a snow daze, I’ve been asked by students over and over “when can we go again?” I think we’re working on that…

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!