We spent an enjoyable weekend celebrating a friend’s 60th birthday. Some of us are slightly older, some of us (me) are much younger, but we mostly all agreed we’d hardly changed from the vibrant young things we all were last week, or last century.
Celebrating something, and why not? How about still being here?!
It’s likely we have fewer springs and summers ahead than we’ve already enjoyed, so each one left to us is one to look forward to but not rush. With that in mind, we’ve been planning a few spring and summer camping trips. Unbelievably, at least for someone who likes to pretend he knows a bit about camping and being outdoors, I don’t think I’ve slept in a tent since autumn 2022. Goodness!
Palatial
Part of the preparation – it’s getting to mud season here, no more skiing or snowshoeing so we might as well look ahead and be prepared – is checking out what equipment we have and what state it is in. We’ve had to acquire a new tent – our palatial green one seems to have gone missing. Hopefully it’s getting well used out on the wilder parts of the west coast of Vancouver Island!
My “work” tent! Retired, like me!
I do have and absolutely love my “work” tent, a tiny one person camping miracle perfect for backpacking and carrying onto small boats, but not one for two people and a dog. So a new tent it is.
Remote remoteness
For this coming season, we’ll be front country camping in sites accessible by truck. It’ll be sometimes somewhat remote, but not the remote remoteness we enjoyed on the coast. My brother has a new tiny teardrop trailer, and we’ll be meeting up somewhere twelve hours north of him and twelve hours west of us, to test out his new rig. I don’t think he’s done too much camping in the past, so I did mention there’ll be at least three (and maybe as many as five) mosquitoes where we’re headed. There, now he can’t complain about not knowing…
Find us here – twelve hours north and twelve hours west – you know the place!
So do your worst, mud season, we’ll get through whatever you throw at us the next few weeks – late season snow or rain or late season snow and rain – because we’re almost prepared to spring forward and land right side up, ready for the big outdoors! Boing! Squelch! Smile! Why, we’re hardly any older than the last time we were hardly any older…
Let’s wait a few more weeks. No need to rush…
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Rascal! I like saying this word. It’s one where, with repetition, meaning fades and the sounds emerge, so you hear the language without engagement – like listening to a song or piece of music that isn’t in your mother tongue but you enjoy anyway. You’re engaged, but not concerned with the literal.
Rascal!
We met this rascal last week, along with a few others. Why not be a (good natured) rascal through carnaval? The Carnaval de Québec is a high spirited event that celebrates winter, good times and good people sharing those good times. If the number of pop up bars are anything to go by, plenty of good spirits are downed to keep the cold at bay and cover up that you might not know any of the words to the drinking songs. Are we back to being engaged without worrying about the literal? Just let it wash over you…
Polar? Almost…
We enjoyed the upbeat atmosphere – yup, it is winter, so why not celebrate it?! Even if it was unseasonably mild to the point where the ice sculptures were struggling to maintain shape. Maintaining shape a struggle? I know how that feels after a carnival beer or three. Or I would if I did…
A good man, so he is!
Rascals? Yup! Bonhomme? Yup – everywhere! He’s a good fellow, a busy fellow and popular too. So many people wanted to be seen with him that he had to have a minder or two to see him safe. No, really!
He gets around
Pis sors! My inner grade 8 could not get enough of seeing the posters around town with pis sors all over them. As it were. I sent an image to my brother to confirm pronunciation (he understands French about as well as I do – so not that well) and he assured me it is p*ss sauce, and, in this particular case, not to let it wash over you. Sound advice! (I think it’s a genetic thing, us both being stuck in grade 8?)
Hehehe…
We didn’t stick around for the late night parties, but I do hope those that were there had a good time. I’m fairly sure I’d fail the drink a yard of ale test, and what a waste of beer that would be. Still, there’s always next year and the twelve months to train for it.
Two rascally fellows, and so very well maintained
Let’s finish with another phrase I like to repeat. Soyez doux – be gentle! I think I read it in relation to the ice sculptures, but maybe it was a nudge as to how to behave in general? Soyez doux, soyez doux, soyez doux – I like the sounds and the meaning. Given the state of the world right now, I’m all for a bit more soyez doux, and a laugh and a drink or two with good natured rascals and bonhommes. Seems quite sensible.
Déguédine pis sors! Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
A short post this week, a mini-celebration of winter, with something of a dog’s eye view on embracing the season! At least, she would if she could get out there…
“Looks great out there. Why am I stuck in here?”
Scout likes to get outside whatever the weather, and, when I wasn’t feeling too well not so long ago, we still had to go out – one of us needed to burn off some energy.
“I’m bored. You look fine. Can we go now? Can we? You’ll feel better – please, please, please…”“I knew that would work! Yeah! Let’s go!”“Whoa… it’s deep!”“Might not be doing that headlong no look thing again…““Free at la— oh…”
Eventually we managed to go a little further afield, and Scout was even happier than her normal state of happy!
“This is more like it!”
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
A (medicinal) glass half full? Of course, and half at the very least…“Are you forgetting someone, PlaidCamper?”
…and, fortunately, you’ve not been able to hear me complain about it! But I have been, don’t you worry!
We’d planned, overconfidently as it turned out, to be spending the past week or two on snowshoes or skis, enjoying the thrill of a Quebec winter. That hasn’t happened – yet!
Scout earlier this week, enjoying the thrills of a Quebec winter. Look at that snow!
Going for glass half full, I can be excited all over again if and when proper winter returns. I hope that is soon, because as much as I like mince pies and beer, we might be approaching the point where I can’t see my feet or be able to reach down to said skis… I’m becoming a contender for Santa employment next year if things don’t change. Ho ho ho.
More than half full!
So as 2023 meanders to a slightly grey/green and no snow end, I’ll sign off for this year by thanking you for taking the time to read and comment on this blog. It’s always a delight to know that thoughts are being shared and we’re not going slightly mad all alone as the world takes a few strange turns.
Bye bye 2023
Wishing you all the very best for 2024! Who knows, perhaps the flat earthers, election deniers, populists and other assorted liars will come to their senses in the next twelve months? You have to hope… and in the meantime, there are outdoor concerns and pursuits to follow while we still can! Let’s get out there (just have to finish this mince pie…)
Soon?
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
We were planning to spend chunks of the long weekend on snowshoes or xc skis, but the strangely warm weather through last weekend – it rained and washed away most of the snow pack – means waiting for fresh snow and the return of proper winter sometime around year end. Here’s hoping…
No snow? Try one of these instead…
In the meantime, we’re fully engaged with mince pies, winter beers and a good book/good movie or two!
Fully engaged
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a great (long) weekend!
Looking in the old town, there were some bright sparks:
Sparky
I think this old fella might know a thing or two about it:
“Just you listen to me, young fella…”
The chap above seemed to have some competition from the chap below (we’ve been keeping an eye on him, looks the sort that might attempt a chimney-based home invasion, and he’d be tough to spot…)
“Come back, young fella – I can tell you where to find ho-ho-holiday spirit – I’ll drop in later!”
Yikes, I found him a little scary and way over my head. I turned to these friendly looking types, but to be honest, whilst they seemed to be in good spirits, it was all rather wheezy and too smoky to get to what they were saying:
Holy smokes…
Before the big glitter of the big town got too much for me, we retreated into the woods:
“Follow us, OPC, you’ll be fine!” They seemed friendly enough…
I have to say, for me, it was a touch more manageable. A breezy day, so the wind whistled through the treetops, and if I couldn’t make out the words, well I was happy enough with the tenor and tone:
A chilled tune…
In fact, with a whisper of light snow, and the rattle and rustling of dry leaves, I’d say there were plenty of spirits in the woods. Holiday spirits? Who knows, but it was pretty and peaceful:
Small sounds, happy spirits
To finish, we absolutely found some holiday spirit:
Full(ers) of good things
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
We’ve just returned from a flying visit to SW England (with a bit of NW England thrown in at the end) and what a trip it was! Being happily tired this week, here’s a quick report and a tangent or two. Perhaps I’ll include a few extra bits and pieces in future posts as and when my brain untangles the wonderful whirlwind of highlights and events.
Falmouth, Cornwall, UK
After landing in London we travelled down to Cornwall to celebrate my mother’s birthday – one of the landmark ones. “A landmark birthday? How old?” I hear you ask? Or did you? (I’ve not lived in Britain for almost two decades, and even when I did could never be bothered to understand the stifling intricacies and eccentricities of how one “should” behave. I’m not too sure, in the post Jane Austen era, if it’s yet entirely acceptable to reveal the age of a lady, particularly the age of a lady of a certain age. I’ll simply say it is a number between 79 and 81 and leave it at that…)
A certain age
By the way, some of the above will certainly influence the title of my new, and, dare I say, difficult second novel. “Portrait of a Particular Lady of a Certain Age and Certain Sensibilities in a Particular Age, An Age of Intricacy and Eccentricity”.
Catchy, hey? A comedy of manners with no funny bits. My hope is for it to be published soon after my first (also difficult) novel is completed. This will be a more modern tale, based on almost real events, and is definitely not a comedy. It attempts to capture Britain today. The title? “Black Coffee Please. Black Coffee? Of Course Sir. Milk and Sugar With That?”
Eventually I’ll write a sequel to Black Coffee Please called “Please-Thanks, Thanking You, Please-Thanks, Yes Thank You, Yes Please-Thanks and Thank You. Milk and Sugar? No thanks!” Bestsellers all, if only they existed. Order and pay for a black coffee in England and count the please-thanks. Honestly, you could write a saga poem…
Dear old Falmouth
Where was I? Why, in dear old Blighty! Mother had a splendid time, and it was great to catch up with family and friends, enjoy a meal or two and a drink or three in comfortable surroundings. It might have been the drink or three that had us heading outdoors every now and then to take in the bracing sea air and help a head that needed clearing.
The “brightening up” title this week is from what some British people might say as they decide to go for a walk. This makes sense if you know that often in Britain it’s just stopped raining, about to start raining or is actually raining.
Brightening up?
I exaggerate, but not by much. “I think it’s brightening up so shall we head out?” “Nah; it’s raining. Another pint?”
A Porthleven Pale you say? Oh go on then!
Clearly my brain is travel-befuddled, so let’s leave it here for this week! Please-Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
A pinch of cold and dash of colour? Sounds like a recipe for early winter…
Ingredients? Nope! Essential, though? Maybe!
It has been the coldest week of the season so far, and, for the first time, we could feel the cold pinching, almost painful, on our earlyish morning walks. After a dull and rainy (in parts) weekend, it was good to get a light dusting of snow followed by cold and bright days. Yes, frigid enough to find “proper” gloves and toque, and to dig out the thermals. Not for now, those thermals, but soon, very soon…
A light dusting – preferable to rain…
We’ve been into the old town as well as the woods, and earlier this month had fun in and around Old Quebec, showing a friend some of the sights on their first visit. They thought it was so cold, whereas we thought it was almost warm – still above freezing and sunny!
Above freezing and sunny!
To keep warm, we focused on food and drink (stores, bars, and restaurants) in between roaming some of the more photogenic streets. In the end, I think we spent more time eating and drinking than we did walking – great fun!
Chez Temporel – recommended
I’ll keep it brief as Scout is nosing me toward the door – maybe she can already smell the snow we’ve been promised this week? Or maybe she thinks I could do with an extra walk or two after all the recent eating and drinking…
Cheers! And happy thanksgiving if that’s for you this week…
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
Almost warmMore essentials?!“C’mon PC, follow me – you need a walk!”
Scout is an adventurous dog. She’s first out the door, first to pee in the driveway, first to pee in the woods (I’ll let you decide who’s second – in the woods, not the driveway…) and really, not too much fazes her. Sensibly enough, she’s irritated by flat earthers, election deniers, liars, folks of that ilk. Don’t get her started on Brexit, Braverman, Boris and all that nonsense – life’s too short, though not as short as Sunak’s time left in No. 10, teehee…
So, she’s adventurous enough. Got snow? Yes please! Mud? Why, let her at it. Sandy beaches? Let’s run and run! More snow? Yippee! Water? Screech of brakes sound. Er, no. Nope. Absolutely not.
Not even a shallow puddle? Let’s find the long way round. Incoming tides? Forget about it. Backyard sprinkler? Nooooo. All that time on the island, loving the beaches but never the water.
Opened up
Our local woods have a few damp places, and in some spots along the trail there are ankle to knee deep puddles after prolonged rain, but we (mostly Scout) always find the detours. Now the woods have opened up after most of the leafy undergrowth has died back, we’re discovering different trails, perfect for Scout to get into expert snow tracker mode.
“Yup, these are definitely tracks!”
Her new favourite story – thanks, Bob – is The Wendigo by Algernon Blackwood. She likes an old fashioned tale of terror, where things are so indescribably horrific the author/narrator almost cannot describe them. Now that’s scary. Almost as disturbing as me liking the name Algernon.
Hiding place
The Wendigo takes place more than a century ago, in the north woods in late fall as the first snow is coming. A hunting party falls prey to something. There are strange tracks, unpleasant odours, and frightening sounds. People disappear. What’s out there? Is it the Wendigo? Highly recommended, a hugely enjoyable read, but not one to think about too much in the late fall at dusk in the woods.
But Scout will think about this tale, wagging her tail, just as the sun starts to set and just as we’re as far from home as we like to get. She’ll start at the sound of a squirrel – or was it?! – scrabbling in the undergrowth. If she wore them, she’d have wet her pants when a grouse or similar did it’s exploding out of the shrubs thing, startling me (just a little, don’t believe her…)
Full stop
So when she stopped dead in her tracks and stared intently ahead, into the woods with the trail going up a steep incline and out of sight, was I bothered? In Wendigo country? As darkness falls? No, no, not this close to home. Right?
We stood still, and the woods stood still with us. The squirrel was long gone, and there wasn’t even a breath of wind to rustle the last of the leaves. All was quiet. No, wait, what was that thumping sound, faint but quite insistent? Wendigo footsteps on a steady and stealthy approach?
Incline
Nope, just my heart, finding a more normal beat after the double whammy of the steep slope and that damned grouse thing…
We got going again, deciding not to tell any more woods based ghostly tales until we got home. Ignoring the chill and totally not faking how brave we were, on we went, up over the rise and then picking our way down the slope, taking care not to slip on the combination of partially frozen leaves and icy snow. Scout did stop to point out the stone house where the troll lives, but they weren’t home and we weren’t hanging around.
The troll house
Then we came to the worst part, so horrific it’s almost indescribable – Scout doesn’t want me to go there, but I will. This new terror? An even bigger squirrel? Two grouse? Grouses? Grice?! (A terrifying new plural?) No, bad as the grouses can be, this was much, much worse. It was a raging torrent! Treacherous looking icy banks and deathly cold black water gushing downstream.
“Yeah, not too sure we can cross this – it’s pretty fierce!”
Did Scout want to cross it? Nope. We debated retracing our steps, but knowing the horrors we’d already almost encountered, how could we go back? The troll might be home. The squirrel might be hungry. I can’t (and possibly shouldn’t) even write about the grouses. Instead, Scout scouted up and down stream, looking for a place to cross, knowing she’d have to face her worse fears and dip a toe in the water.
And then, just as I wasn’t ready, she stepped back then leapt forward to clear the raging torrent in one mighty bound! I was so happy she made it across, and even happier that the short leash she was on wasn’t any shorter as I narrowly avoided falling in. Now that would have been horrific – I can’t even begin to imagine the grousing had that happened. Disaster averted, I took a short step (Scout here – he meant to write “giant leap”) and followed Scout over.
Yes, quite the leap…
Somehow we made it home. Somehow, I managed to open a beer and drink it. Somehow, I’ve managed to recount this tale of terror. And somehow you’re still here reading…
Somehow managed to open and drink this one (a very good stout!)
So there you have it, a tale that isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s one that (no doubt about it or you can call me Algernon) will be whispered and retold around many a winter campfire in years to come.
To be fair, the scariest stuff here this week is in the first paragraph. We do love scary woodsy tales but that isn’t how we find our local forest – not even the streams faze us, do they Scout?!
“Algernon? Did you hear that?!”
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
After all the excitement prompted by the first (heavyish for the time of year) snowfall last week, we managed to calm ourselves and continue to enjoy the woods even after the snow disappeared pretty quickly. The granite greys and golden browns haven’t been as dull as that might sound, and there were still patches of snow to provide contrast.
Light chill
In fact, our woodsy wanderings took place on almost warm days – warm as in a few degrees above freezing and under mostly blue skies. There’s a real delight in seeing the shape of trees that have lost their leafy cover. The woods are more open, the views are a little longer, and we can see the very healthy looking grey and black squirrels being busy in their autumn work. They dash and scamper, with an occasional pause to confirm we’re no threat, and then on they go. To say scamper makes it sound like they’re being frivolous, but that’s not really fair or true. Goodness, don’t they work hard?!
Snow?
The tree bones in the woods near our house are much more slender than the mighty western cedars and hemlocks we were used to back on the island. I’ve enjoyed that difference, and the crunch of leaves, as well as the less damp and somewhat drier mustiness of an eastern fall.
Snow!
As I write this a few fat flakes are starting to fall, and they’ll likely continue to do so with increasing frequency as real winter approaches.
Golden brown – and chilled, squirrels and all…
What’s left of the last of the leaves will be buried under deep snow, and any crunching will be of an icy nature. What a wonderful fall it has been, and what a wonderful winter we’re looking forward to! Our woodsy wanderings will continue, slower paced by being on snowshoes or in winter boots through deeper snow. Maybe we’ll speed things up from time to time on xc skis – if we have enough muscle memory to remain balanced enough to get away with it. A winter on skis? It’s been a while…
Woodsy, positively spruce-y
Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!
OldPlaidCamper 