cabin – OldPlaidCamper

Escape plans (dangled…)

As I write this (Wednesday) it is snowing! I love winter and I love snow, but it is late April now and we wouldn’t mind an escape. We’re making plans, and they mostly feature a tent. Next month? In a tent? We’re quite intent on seeing it happen. Oh dear…

Hard to believe, but yesterday we were in shirtsleeves on the deck drinking our morning coffee. To be fair, snow aside, we could do that every morning if we really wanted to. So many food and drink pieces the last few weeks. Coffee on the deck this week, the two in a row prison and food stories told here the past couple of weeks, and now this one is called Escape plans – do we have a third prison tale? (And a broken promise?)

No no! Late winter cabin fever, that’s all. I’m stuck. The walls are closing in! No more prison stories this week, not after two weeks. Instead, let’s escape, break out (stop it, PlaidCamper) and make a run for it, to the woods. They’ll never find us there…

Yes, we have had enough dry days for the ground to be less soggy and make walking in the woods a more or less everyday event – until the mosquitoes hatch. Scout has been very pleased by our woodland return, and it’s been an effort to keep up with her.

Of course we had to check in with the trolls. The ground had been trampled all about, but no sign of the trolls themselves. Sensibly, they keep out of sight, not wanting the publicity. It’s bad enough I take pictures of their house. That is bad of me, since trolls must be an endangered species – after all, have you ever seen one? (I don’t mean the trolls that, mentally or literally, have never left the parental home, and are living in the basement, sad little things, fighting culture wars and being aggrieved ‘cos, oh I don’t know, bathrooms and toilets are binary/non binary or gendered or some sh*t – honestly, keyboard warriors, do you think a toilet even cares if you’re non-dangly/dangly? There’s so much going on and wrong in the world, but our brave culture warriors want to fight about potty time and get offended that a s/he/they person is using the “wrong” bathroom. Ok…)

*My advice, readers? Ignore him, he’ll stop, eventually…*

Tangent alert! Oops! Too late. Instead, let’s pretend I care enough about forest trolls to pretend to go along with the story they aren’t real. (Huh?!) So, they aren’t real, and they don’t live in a stone house in the woods behind us. Forget I mentioned them. And forget all the dangly stuff. And, I don’t know, maybe forget this entire post? It must be the cabin fever talking – let’s get out of here. Quite potty. I should go now. To the bathroom? Oh dear…

A brief post this week since I can’t talk about trolls or prison. Or bathrooms. It’s like I’ve been shackled. It’s definitely time to make an escape!

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

Morning coffee here? Why not, if you really want to…

Warm days, happy trails, cool nights…

…easy hikes, good company, and cabin time in a WV state park!

Healthy road trip fare…(it’s ok, we walked it off later, and anyway isn’t maple almost a vegetable?)

Heading north to south we found ourselves leaving mid/late fall behind, and by the time we crossed into MD/WV, found ourselves shedding jackets and digging out T shirts for daytime adventures that were happening like it was late summer or very early fall.

Gentle hikes on clear trails under blue skies in mid October? Yes please! A few bugs (fooled into appearing due to the temps) aside, these were pleasant days to wander in the woods. Gaps in the trees along a high ridge provided long views across the valley to the mountains opposite. If only I’d taken a decent photograph… next time…

There is some view across here – but I didn’t photograph it!

Staying in a cabin with a sturdy fireplace, it was no bad thing when the sun dropped below the mountain ridge behind us – the swift temperature decline justified a fire, reminding us it wasn’t actually summer. And if we had a beer or two to toast the (relatively) active days, well, that’s a pleasant way to spend cool cabin nights…

By the time this is posted, we’ll be home and looking back fondly on a trip where we caught up with friends and family, discovered some new to us beers, and reacquainted ourselves with a favourite mountain town. More on the last next week.

Warm days, cool nights and happy trails – this particular fall has been a most welcome and very kind season!

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

There are strange creatures out there…(photo credit CG, thanks, you stealth photographer you)

Quiet

We’re enjoying some quiet time!

I hope you have a great weekend!

Happy Thanksgiving!

By happy coincidence, thanksgiving more or less marks our anniversary for when we moved to Canada, a decision we’ve never once regretted. With each passing year, we love the place we call home more and more – we’ve so much to be thankful for here in Canada!

Happy Thanksgiving if you celebrate this holiday!

Keeping it short – we’re heading out to visit friends and family the next little while, with off grid and in the woods cabin time involved, so not too sure if there’ll be anything posted for a week or two or three.

Thanks for reading and I hope you have a great (long) weekend!

Tiny home

We needed to be across the island earlier this week and opted to stay overnight in a tiny house. I’ve been fascinated by tiny homes for years, and have spent many a happy hour poring over design details and reading stories of folks living in small dwellings.

Our temporary residence was very well put together, and included a kitchen, bathroom, living room and bedroom squeezed into a tiny footprint. My question has always been “but could a person (or two adults and a dog) really live in such a small space?”

With housing costs rocketing, some demand could be met by smaller and more affordable housing. I think this is to be encouraged, although it seems tough on younger generations that these are the only options when earlier generations had a wider choice. Most start small, but there’s small and then there’s small. Although I might have jumped at the chance! An invisible first world problem perhaps, but it’s there…

Enough of the furrowed brow stuff. This isn’t meant to be a piece about solving the housing crisis, but I will say if more jurisdictions gave permission for tiny houses to be built, they could be one piece of a housing puzzle solution…

I said enough of that! Setting all the debate stuff aside, we really enjoyed staying in a small home, and I also enjoyed fantasizing that yes, I could live like this all the time. (Especially if we had maybe one more room, and perhaps just a touch more storage?!) Oops, tiny house fail for that man…

The entrance into the home site had a large white lilac growing beside and over the gate – what a perfume – so our morning coffee on the small deck was caffeine and lilac flavoured, making for a bright and strong start!

Must leave it here, as I’m pretty sure I’ve got some tiny house plans and costings stashed away… Thanks for reading, and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Mystery Island

We’re not quite home and fully connected yet, but here’s an indication of where we were last week (and how we kept busy!)

I’ll post a slightly longer piece (that shouldn’t be difficult) next week, unpack our trip, after unpacking from our trip.

I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Escape Plan

Oh no, is this going to be a review of the terrible Stallone/Schwarzenegger movie from a couple of years back? Nope, although as we are talking about it, don’t tell anyone, I actually quite enjoyed it, a movie guilty pleasure in a throwback to the 80s sort of way. Let’s keep that to ourselves…

Two of our younger visitors this summer, early teens both, expressed how much they love western Canada, and one is planning to come back in her gap year – or gap life, as she’d have it – to stay for longer. The other lives in Canmore, has a busy life, but actually fancied the idea of a little place to retreat to. I thought of him earlier, when we hit the water one morning and paddled past this floating delight:

He was into the idea of cabins, and of going fishing, and I think this floating shed would be ideal! It wasn’t here before this summer, but I do remember seeing a very similar building drifting about in the channel just outside the outer harbour last autumn after a heavy storm. Has some enterprising soul salvaged and restored it? I hope it is the same shed, and I hope it is used for fishing.

I’m still a bit hooked on the idea of having a little boat (you already do, it is your kayak – Mrs. PC) and moored a short distance from the dream floating cabin is this little beauty:

I enjoy bobbing about in between the boats and buildings, it seems to keep us young at heart. I like that young people aren’t totally devoted to electronic activities, and when they unplug and look up, they are captivated by outdoor pursuits and beautiful locations. There is still hope for the future…

Keeping it brief this week, as I’m off to raid the piggy bank, see if there’s enough for a floating fishing platform. (Nope, there’s not – Mrs. PC)

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

Tsawout Trails

A short piece about trails a short hike away from the Salt Spring cabin. We had to get out hiking before we forgot how, and staying near Tsawout Band lands meant we had some great trails to explore.

At the trailhead is a beautiful welcome and interpretive sign, inviting visitors to enjoy the land past the notice. If you follow this link, 13 Moon Calendar Sign, you’ll see a digital copy of the artwork and words – I have to say, the message is simple and clear, and more necessary than ever…

Our first afternoon in the woods was hot and humid, but under the canopy oh so green and lush. The trail was simple enough to pick out, sometimes rocky underfoot, sometimes grassy, and sometimes earthy, with changes in the terrain every few metres. Exposed slopes and clearings were bug free with a slight sea breeze. In these open areas, golden grass was almost like straw in the strong sun.Into the trees and away from the bluffs overlooking the sea, it was not as hot, the air was still and rather humid, with the whine of an occasional mosquito. I wasn’t bitten, so Mrs. PC was spared the whine of an old PlaidCamper.

Relative to steepness of slope, soil coverage and the presence of large rock outcrops, the trees were a mix of short and gnarled to tall and gnarled, growing in tight groups with dense undergrowth, or further apart with little brush beneath. Pacific Madrones, Garry Oaks, and Western Red Cedars – a wonderfully varied yet cohesive green, grey, rusty and yellow landscape to wander through (yup, I’ve been reading my tree books!)The Tsawout trails got us up and out in a series of wonderful hiking afternoons. Tramping through the woods, coming across little coves, stopping to admire views, tree shapes, and textures, it was a special place, and we had a very happy time exploring it.Salt Spring Island is a splendid location to be on holiday! One (or two?) more Salt Spring posts in the next week or so, and then we’ll have to leave, sniff.

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

Beer bottle tops (and bullets)

Huh? To be more accurate, not that I know much about these things, it’s beer bottle tops and bullet casings. Or is that shell casings? I’m way out of my comfort zone here (well, not entirely, I might have opened a beer bottle or two every now and again…)

I was almost cleaning out our car the other day, not because it needed it (but it does), more because when I was driving along, each little bump in the road caused a jingling and tinkly sound somewhere near the dash. Mechanically minded as ever, I ignored it until I couldn’t take any more, and tried to track down the cause. Turns out there was a small pile of (brass?) bullet casings and rusty bottle tops in the change compartment atop the dash.

PlaidCamper has guns and ammunition? I hear you ask with a gasp! PlaidCamper has bottle tops? Perhaps less of a gasp there…

No! No guns for me. I grew up in Britain, back when the police were armed with those funny hats and asked you nicely to stop being unlawful or they’d be forced to ask you again. Not much of a gun culture, although I do realize things have changed since then. Nevertheless, no guns for me. With my recent eyesight history, it would be foolish indeed – I’m a danger to myself and those around me simply wielding a spork. They’re not that user-friendly you know.

Anyway, where did I get the bullets? I picked them up. The beer bottle tops? I picked those up too. From the ground, and no, I didn’t drop them. They were strewn on the grassy area in front of Little Bear cabin. We’re not talking one or two accidentally missed items. Over a few days, I picked up hundreds of casings. I kept thinking that I must have found them all, and then I’d spot another, and another. Don’t ask Mrs PlaidCamper, but it’s possible I may have gotten a touch obsessed about finding them. At that point in time, post eye surgery, I was really quite happy at even being able to spot them. But if I could spot them, well wouldn’t that mean the shooter (is that the correct term?) could find them? Still, it kept me quiet, and Mrs PC finished a couple of long novels.

It did get me thinking, why all the bullets up there at Little Bear? Was the Parks Service not letting on how dangerous it could be? There was the usual literature and warnings about bears, and I shouldn’t (and honestly don’t) make light of the risks with animal encounters, but it is called Little Bear cabin. Not Rabid Slavering Bears Only Want To Eat You So Bring Your Guns cabin. We’d still stay there even if they change the name. Bottle tops and bullets. Hmm. Beer and bullets? I don’t know, is it just me…?

Put ’em up! (Your feet, you must be exhausted…)

I tried to imagine the scene when the previous gun toting occupants were at the cabin. Beer in one hand, gun in the other, whirling this way and that way, blasting at anything moving. Anything moving? While we were there, that would have been swaying trees, crickets, a hiker or two, and the occasional small squirrel. Oh, and many – unarmed, though – birds flying overhead and from tree to tree. Plus, there was a deer that gave me a funny look one morning, but probably because I was peeing behind the woodshed, being too lazy to tramp down to the outhouse so early. (Oh c’mon, give me a break. I was unarmed, and there might have been squirrels about…) Well, on that evidence, best lock and load then.

I don’t want to get into the whole gun control debate (because what’s to debate when the solutions are so obvious – you know, fewer guns, more sporks?) I don’t understand shooting, although I know many enjoy the sport. Fair enough, fire lead balls into straw mounted paper targets and pretend you’re ready to defend yourself (maybe in the unlikely event of a paper target or clay pigeon invading your home?) I certainly don’t understand the sport behind hunting animals for fun. It can’t be that much fun for those gangs of scary squirrels and herds of deadly deer, or even fair, not if they can’t shoot back.

I’d best stop soon, and get back to cleaning out the car. Just one request before I do? The noise pollution is bad enough, but if you do feel the need to be heavily armed with beer and bullets, and to blast away because animals are out there, could you at least pick up your trash? Please? Yes? Thank you!

And thank you for reading! As ever, please feel free to leave a comment (are you proficient with a spork?) or share a story, and have a wonderful weekend!

Time to reappear!

Last week was about disappearing, so to balance that out, it’s time to reappear. Our break is about over, and we’ve had a very pleasant summer. I wrote last week about the temporary need to check out, suspend membership of the human race, and it did reflect how I felt at the time of writing. However, having had the good fortune to be able to sit, read, write and reflect with few disturbances the past week, I thought that this week I’d share one or two of the great people we’ve met on our recent travels. They were previously unknown to us, but each interaction affirmed that people are, by and large, pretty decent – it seems that when we escape group or mob mentality, humans get it right…

Where to start? How about Daryl, the tree surgeon we met a few weeks ago at Green Point campground on Vancouver Island? When we arrived at our designated spot, a large silver pick up full of chainsaws, ladders, ropes and climbing equipment was blocking the entrance. Daryl came over and introduced himself, explaining that he and his work partner were spotting trees, ensuring that those with weak roots, rotten cores, or loose branches weren’t about to come tumbling down on an unsuspecting camper:

“Don’t worry, we’re talking about in the next couple years. That said, don’t pitch your tent there, don’t tie a tarp on this one, or that one, and maybe not that one either!”

Looking around, we could see Daryl had been busy, with little blobs of red dye on trees that were going to require action. It was good to know he was out there keeping things safe. We stood and chatted for a while. Daryl loved his work, and he loved living on Vancouver Island.

“I hardly ever leave the island – why would I? My wife and I like to go kayaking and camping most weekends, and it’s all within a couple of hours of our home. It’s all here!”

Indeed it is. Daryl was knowledgeable, friendly, and not too busy to stop and say hi and talk about what he was doing. He had a good sense of humour, too. As he was leaving:

“You know how I said these trees were okay for two years or more? Well, if it gets windy, that’ll change. You might want to move your tent. Or not. It should be alright. Sleep well!”

Funny guy…

When we got to Little Bear last week, we’d about unpacked our kit, and were just wondering if it was too early for a cold one when we heard voices drifting down from further up the mountain. People? At “our” cabin and on “our” mountain? Oh no – we were meant to be disappearing…

A young boy, about twelve or so, and his grandparents hiked into view. They waved “hi” and apologized for disturbing us. They seemed surprised the cabin was occupied. It turned out the grandfather hadn’t been up this way for more than a decade, and had wanted to show his grandson and wife the cabin, and the tremendous view across the valley. They pointed out distant mountains they’d hiked with their grandson earlier in the summer. The couple had first come to Bozeman from Minnesota in the 1960s, to work at the university:

“And we never left. We love it here, working and now retired. This area is special. Can we show our grandson the inside of your cabin?”

Well of course. The boy was completely taken with the cabin, eyes and face lit up with excitement. He was still young enough not to be too cool about old stuff. It was clear he hero-worshipped his grandparents, hanging on their every word. When we told them where we’d booked the cabin and the modest cost, the grandson looked absolutely thrilled when his grandfather suggested he might come up sometime:

“When you’re a little older, with your own friends, for a few nights?”

It was late in the afternoon, and they had to get back to their vehicle and head down to Bozeman. Waving farewell, they disappeared from view, but we heard what they were saying:

“Isn’t it great that old cabin is being used? What a place! We gotta come back sometime!”

Isn’t it great that there are plenty of friendly folks out and about? It’s easy to be suspicious, or wary, particularly when you are relatively far from home. It’s easy to generalize (that’s why I do it!) about how humanity is going to hell in a hand basket, especially if you take all the bad news stories as the only stories out there. But that’s not always true – it’s just that the good stories don’t always get heard or the same air time. Sometimes, having a little time out to reflect can help me remember that.

Thanks for reading, and have a wonderful weekend!

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