adventure – Page 16 – OldPlaidCamper

Coastal cursing

A brief post, mostly about cussedness and cursing (but not out loud, that would be wrong) because I was determined to have a lengthy hike on the Cornish coastal path, but it didn’t turn out that way. A pouty Plaidcamper…

We arrived late evening at Britain’s most southerly point, on the Lizard peninsula, Cornwall. Ma Plaidcamper is lucky enough to live here, and it is a very pleasant part of the UK, often blessed with mild temperatures and sunny skies. Those blue skies were evident our first evening, and a portent of great conditions for hiking the coastal path:

The path hugs the rugged coastline, dropping into tiny coves, and climbing up to cliff tops above the sea. It makes for exhilarating hiking, and the view changes constantly, as each climb, twist or turn reveals new vistas. On a clear day, it is some of my favourite walking anywhere we’ve ever visited.

In wet weather, the path conditions are extremely slippery, and care has to be taken where the trail is close to the edge. And when it is blustery as well as wet, well, be very careful. Often, the advice is to wait another day.

We were there for three days, and all three were wet and blustery! It’s all about the timing! Hence the cursing – about the weather – and the cussedness – because I was going to go out, never mind the weather.

DSCN7028 — Stay away from the edge and you’ll be fine

We chose a route that stayed away from the very edge, taking only well gravelled sections along the high tops, and although the track was still very muddy in many places, we were in no danger of falling off, only of falling over.

So we didn’t get the best of weather, and the hikes we took were relatively brief, but it was still a wonderful place to be, blown along and getting great blasts of ozone charged air. And if we weren’t walking, we spent time with Ma Plaidcamper, and with Mrs PC’s twin brother and family in the local pub, drying out over a pint or two. Job done, and a proper job too:

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

(I’ve not been keeping up with all your blogs I read regularly – apologies, and I will read them in the next week or two – I’ve really missed not being able to do so. When we returned home, a routine eye exam revealed the need for some immediate corrective laser surgery, so I’ve had to limit screen time. Obviously, I’m glad it was detected, all seems well, and what passes for normal service at OldPlaidCamper will resume soon…)

Montana medicine

I’m writing this in a Montana motel room on a Saturday night. I know, life in the fast lane, and we sure know how to have a time of it. Actually, all is pretty good. The room overlooks the little pool, some kids are playing in it nicely, and we have a couple of beers cooling in the fridge. To be honest, it’s a bit of a selfish post this week.

After a relatively fraught couple of weeks, this might be just what the doctor ordered. Our trip to see friends and family in the UK was great fun, but there was a real feeling of Brexit blues about the place. Most people we know voted Remain, so their shock and upset over the outcome is still very real. Huge bewilderment and disbelief at the path Britain is now on. We haven’t lived there for fifteen years, and even from a distance we are struggling to make sense of it. It’ll take time, and tremendous optimism, to see how the situation can be improved. Perhaps I’ll write more about this later, if I can make sense of it all. We certainly left Britain feeling quite exhausted, and our Brexit incomprehension was a factor.

We are now headed down to Little Bear cabin, and very happy to be on our way. I’ve spent the past week or so sitting and feeling sorry for myself in a darkened room, waiting (im)patiently for my eye to be up to the task of reading small print and taking on some sunlight. Well, finally! (although I’m not taking a retinal tear lightly…) Obviously, I’ve been a model of quiet and calm recuperation, with barely a complaint. Still, Mrs PC did seem to pack up and jump in the car with even more enthusiasm than usual…

Part of our journey through Montana went from Choteau to Wolf Creek on route 287. What a route! Rising and falling through rolling grasslands and golden hills, with mountains in the far distance all the way, this was a great road! It felt like essence of Montana, with hardly any other traffic, blue skies with high white clouds, a pleasant breeze in through the windows, and space, space, space. After a week indoors, and a couple of weeks before that negotiating Britain’s crowded roads, today’s journey was delightful.

What a relief to be able to read a road map, read road signs, roam along empty roads, and see to the far horizon. Little Bear is waiting, and we are ready to empty our heads for just a little while. Some Montana medicine, and it’ll be easy to take. Everybody should have some; even if you already feel good, you’ll feel even better!

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

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!

Canada!

Happy Canada Day!

Many nations celebrate, and today is Canada’s turn! This won’t be a long post, and it features some photographs I’ve included previously, but I hope you can forgive that.

I simply wanted to pull out a selection to show the True North across the seasons and in different lights. I feel so privileged to be a citizen of this wonderful country.

It isn’t perfect, but when we live in increasingly challenging times, Canada and many Canadians are choosing to be inclusive, welcoming, and fair-minded.

Many countries, and many citizens in those countries, seek to be positive. They choose collaboration, mutual respect within and between nations, valuing and celebrating diversity in all forms, and extending an open hand of friendship, rather than angry raised fists and pointing fingers.

I’ll say it again, Canada isn’t perfect, no nation ever is, but a positive effort by each citizen in each country has to be made. What is the measure of a decent society? Perhaps how that society chooses to behave when times are tough?

Be thoughtful, be positive (Wonderland, Bow Building, Calgary AB)

As an approach to making the world safer, how is building walls, rejecting collaboration, abandoning treaties, making threats, and fear-mongering to pursue personal and political ends that are only designed to seek profit or control, really going to help? We can do better than that, want to be better than that. Don’t be misled, or exploited. Let’s be amigos, not enemies…

Time to stop – getting a bit bossy. I’m keeping it short and positive this week! If you are in Canada, you are Canadian, wishing you were Canadian, feel Canadian in your heart, or simply love maple syrup, then happy Canada Day!

DSCN5691 — That old fella has the heart of a Canadian – get on board, there’s room…(Moraine Lake AB)

Have a wonderful weekend!

This will pair nicely with Canada Day…made with sitka spruce tips – just right!

Summer!

Summer! Road trips! Camping! Road trip music! Oh summer!

DSCF0395 — Road trip! (Might be a short one…)

So, possibly we’re quite excited about the new season. It sort of kicked off for us a couple of weeks ago when we went to the Performance in the Park show in Banff. Nothing says summer like shivering and sheltering under a tree in the pouring rain, admiring how the bands bravely ensured the show must go on. It was such a determinedly Canadian scene! Short sleeves and pants worn under rain gear, umbrellas rather than parasols, children in wellingtons and galoshes throwing frisbees and footballs to keep warm, and enticing smells wafting over from the food tents. Far more coffee than beer was being sold…

Hey Rosetta and Shad gave excellent performances, and both have been added to our road trip playlists. I mentioned in an earlier post how I’ve been listening to quite a bit of Big Star and Neil Young recently, so they’ll figure prominently. Nothing too snoozy for the driver on those long trips.

IMG_20160501_123200 — We’ll get there in this one. Won’t we? (Is the engine is supposed to make that noise? Sure! Turn the music up…)

Apparently, it is quite a common occurrence for men to make lists – of music, movies, books, preferred beers etc. Well, that sounds ridiculous. Grown men doing such a thing?

Here is a short list of what would make my shortlist of favourite summer tunes if I was the sort of person to do such a thing. (Took me forever, kept changing my mind after discussions with some guys I work with, my Dad, my brothers, a random dude on the train…) In the interests of time, and because, let’s face it, lists by other people are boring, I’ll keep it brief. Just three songs:

Thirteen by Big Star. If a song could ever capture the hopeful start of summer, the youthful yearning of first love, of what it feels to be young, and make you nostalgic for your early teenage years, then this is pretty close. I love this song, and maybe you do/will too?

Fam Jam (Fe Sum Immigrins) by Shad. He writes thoughtful, smart lyrics, performs with passion – and often a smile on his face – and tells stories that put you in someone else’s shoes. Apart from all that, his tunes are infectious! I enjoy old school hip-hop that isn’t riddled with misogyny and homophobia. The album Flying Colours is great, and will get played endlessly this summer.

September Gurls by Big Star. Oh, come on PlaidCamper, you’ve already included Big Star! What can I say? This is a summer classic, a bookend to Thirteen, and a summer closing song. The sound draws heavily on so many summery music influences, and the song is infectious – it may take up residence in your head, but it’s ok, because it is great. Ooh, bit opinionated there, but even the random dude on the train had to agree…

Anyway, a brief list as promised. A bit of fun to kickstart the summer, and possibly make you rather glad you’re not in the back of our car. Feel free to make your own suggestions in the comments below, and 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!

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!

	plaidcamper on Contrasts
	Miriam on Contrasts
	plaidcamper on Contrasts
	Maria on Contrasts
	plaidcamper on Safe harbour