OldPlaidCamper

Our urban nature

Another post connected to our recent Vancouver trip – the last in a short and unplanned series! A piece including vague thoughts and mumblings about urban environments, as well as photographs showing Vancouver is quite lovely if you have to spend time in a city.

The outdoor education conference and time we spent in Vancouver has really got me thinking about cities and the natural world. More and more humans will be living in urban centres, and the trend towards huge cities with fast paced population growth is set for the next 50-100 years according to speakers at the conference.

This leaves me in two (or more) minds. If most humans live in cities, does this mean the spaces in between will be left alone? Probably not. Will mass exits on weekends, high days and holidays be the norm? Vast roads cutting into “wilderness” areas, creating problems of crowding and spoiling the character of these wild places? (I admit I’m exactly one of those city dwellers heading out whenever possible to play in the big outdoors…) Or will people stay inside the city, leaving large expanses outside to be farmed organically and ethically, with other areas left to develop as wild spaces? So many questions…

Clearly, I should stick to teaching and let others be futurologists. I have woolly (but friendly) notions about how our planet could be a greener place, and how we could manage the apparent conflict and contradictions between urban needs and a healthy, vibrant environment in and out of cities.

IMG_20170418_133339 — Making concrete interesting? They tried…

I daydream about a future where citizens love their city, they frequent large natural spaces in the city, and make visits – long and short – into the surrounding countryside and wilderness. They meet the food producers growing and rearing wonderful produce. They hike and camp (leaving no trace, always showing consideration for flora, fauna, and fellow campers/hikers…) and paddle and fish, and paint and photograph and play and then I stop daydreaming because all I want to do is head out there when I’ve a mountain of paperwork to do, report cards to write, and data to produce to prove students might be learning things I’m teaching. Phew, run on sentence. Easy there, old boy. How early can an early retirement be? That’s another daydream. I’m often amazed I get much of anything done at all.

IMG_20170418_145807 — Well, if you have to live in a city…

Focus, PlaidCamper, focus. Cities shouldn’t be ugly or difficult places to live in. Housing, transportation, education, recreation and healthcare should be available and affordable. Vancouver, like other cities, scores well in some, but not all, of these measures. Like other perceived as desirable cities, it is an expensive yet beautiful location. The beauty and economic opportunity draws people to the city, and this in turn increases pressure on services and raises prices. What is the solution? Can we reverse the inflow to cities? What will it mean if more people elect to live and work outside cities? Can we find positive and better than sustainable ways to dwell in wilder areas? Do people wish to live away from cities? Will I stop typing questions?

IMG_20170417_174705 — Could you lower a rope please?

As I said at the start, these are a few of the thoughts (or daydreams) and questions that have been bouncing around in my head the past week or so. Pleasant environments nurture and encourage pleasant citizens. Care about the local, and you’ll treasure the global, city dweller or not. Oh, woolly old me…

IMG_20170417_175011 — I could be tempted

Thanks for reading, feel free to chip in with a thought or two, and have a wonderful weekend!

Pacific Great Blue Herons (thank you!)

Pacific Great Blue Herons! I enjoyed writing the title for this post so much I had to write it again. Padding for a short post…

I don’t know too much about birds in general, but find myself increasingly hooked by all the feathered wonders to be found. A couple of weeks ago, our guide in Stanley Park asked if we’d like to see the heron colony? Well, yes! There’s something rather solemn and stately about the way a heron walks – or stalks – and a thrill when they spear and strike.

Our guide took us to a wooded area near the headquarters building of Vancouver Parks. Compared to other parts of the park, it was positively urban, with a road cutting through and condo buildings and tennis courts nearby. Up in the trees were many many nests, and sitting in the nests were many many herons. I always think it’s a jackpot seeing a single heron, so to have dozens nesting and coming and going in one area was an absolute delight.

I snapped a few photographs from underneath, and have shared the best I managed on here today, but the real treat is the following link:

Stanley Park Heron Colony Cam

Go on, you’ll love it! Be sure you have plenty of time and a good cup of coffee. I’m not suggesting you spend hours in front of this, but you might find it hard to tear yourself away. Can you see the eggs? I haven’t spotted the chicks yet, but soon…Reality television!

Pacific Great Blue Herons! Aren’t they beautiful? The herons seem perfectly at home and well used to their city accommodations. I like to see this example of urban and natural coexistence, it makes me hopeful.

Above the fray – if only in my imagination – the herons have kept me sane in what has been a challenging week or two. I keep checking in – can’t help it – and find there’s distraction, excitement and calm being up in those trees. I never thought I’d be a daytime TV person…

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

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!

On the banks of the Bow

Marching towards spring? Perhaps, but there’s no rush. Still time to find some winter.

We went looking for winter last weekend, out on the banks of the Bow. We found a chill wind blowing. Deep snow, and no sign of any fellow humans out and about. Previously made snowshoe tracks were well buried under a fresh blanket of snow. To be fair, there were fresh snowshoe tracks – those of a snowshoe hare. A deer or two had evidently passed through shortly before we did, so we weren’t entirely alone.

Winter had a pretty good grip on the landscape. Thin patches of filmy ice drifted down river. We stood still and silent, hoping to catch sight of the little dipper we often encounter along this particular stretch. A sudden splash alerted us to the presence of something larger, and a minute later we spotted a beaver swimming in front of the far bank.

Unimpressed with us, back view only, it hunched over and chewed on a branch in the shallows opposite. We waited for a few moments more, hoping it would turn and permit us a photograph. No, nothing doing. We began to sidle away, a slow exit stage left, when the beaver hopped up, flipped, and dove into the water. Up it popped, and off it swam, upstream. What a wonderful sight! We plodded on, cold on the outside, but warmed on the inside after the brief encounter.

Two Steller’s jays appeared, emerging from a heavily branched pine, chattering and scolding us as we passed by. Our winged escort for quite a way, flitting from tree to tree, and branch to branch, they were sometimes hard to spot, but little puffs of snow and a flash of blue revealed them each time they took off. Eventually we left their territory, but they were a welcome sight for a while.

DSCF4458 — A jay could make a nest in this…

We half expected the jays to reappear when we stopped to eat our lunch, knowing them to be cheeky and opportune enough to dive for a crumb or two. Didn’t happen, and that was ok. Safely out of jay territory, we perched on a log in the shelter of trees, no wind, and in sight and sound of the river. Out of the wind, our break was pleasant enough.

We’d found winter, and it was in fine form. A burbling river, light snow falling, signs of life all around, and the sun beginning to emerge through breaks in the grey, this was as good a late winter March morning one could have wished for.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

	Maria on Taking a break
	plaidcamper on Taking a break
	plaidcamper on Taking a break
	plaidcamper on Taking a break
	plaidcamper on Taking a break