nature – Page 10 – OldPlaidCamper

An almost true tale of terror

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.

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.

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.

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…)

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?

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.

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.

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?!

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

Woodsy wanderings

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.

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?!

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.

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…

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

First snow of the season!

A bit earlier than we expected, and it didn’t stick around too long, but it was a welcome first sight of what we hope will be an enjoyable outdoorsy winter. (Ask us about that again in late March…)

Scout was absolutely thrilled to see the snow and couldn’t get out of the house fast enough. Fortunately, our door and front gate is each wide enough to accommodate one excited canine and one excited human at the same time. C’mon, Scout, it’s not a race…

The total amount didn’t top out much over a handful of centimetres, but it was enough to kick and slide around in, and it remained cold enough to still look pretty the following day, quite dazzling under bright blue skies.

Mrs. PC managed to calm Scout (and me) down, explaining that there’ll be plenty more snow the next few months and wondering if we might be a little less excitable, ‘cos it’s a long winter? I can’t speak for Scout being less excitable about snow, but I’ll try. Although, whisper it, it was Mrs. PC looking up local xc ski trails and searching out the snowshoes in the basement. Cool!

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

Sunny small town stuff

Shall we hang out in a friendly small town on the panhandle of WV? Well, ok, particularly as it is somewhere we’ve visited many times over the years. Berkeley Springs is a great place to while away a few hours, and we did exactly that for a sunny day or two earlier this month.

It has a microbrewery or two (nope, not this time, would you believe?!) great coffee shops, an antique mall, and a number of little stores selling arty crafty stuff. If you like cinnamon scented candles, handmade birthday cards, and knitted/quilted/beaded/stitched stuff, then you’re well catered for. Next visit, and if you’re there, I’ll meet you in the microbrewery (‘cos by then they’ll have very sensibly adjusted their afternoon opening hours so I can skip out on the knitted/antique stuff…)

We’re not really leisure shoppers, but we browsed and had a couple of great conversations with storekeepers who couldn’t get enough of those cute accents. “You’re from Australia, yes? No? Texas, then?” Close enough. We usually agree on Canada via Europe. Folks we chat to south of the border always love Canada, which is reassuring and neighbourly. I mean neighborly.

The guy selling Native American beadwork and blankets was a road warrior with hundreds of thousands of truck miles under his belt. He knew of and had driven through most north of the border places we mentioned, east to west and also north, right up onto the ice roads in deep winter. He was now enjoying his warmer retirement years in his often sunny small WV town. I’d love to share his stories about the “cat” that kept him company on many of his trucking adventures. He described what sounded like a small mountain lion, one that scared many a border guard into waving him through rather than get within close up claw distance to inspect any paperwork… (Next time I’m down that way, I’ll visit with him, see if he wants to elaborate and maybe get his permission to tell a tale or two. I suspect colourful isn’t even close…)

The park in the centre of town has to be one of the smallest state parks ever, and is a delightful spot to sit in the sun and drink coffee. In season, there’s a wonderful outdoor pool – Junior PlaidCamper spent many happy childhood hours splashing about on hot days. In and around the park there’s some (civil war) history to the place if that’s more your thing. For something less bloody, how about George Washington’s bathtub? Yup, really:

I can recommend staying at The Country Inn, a friendly hotel complete with dining room and tavern. We had a spacious room overlooking the park, and if an inch of wall was unpapered (a bright flowery design), I didn’t find it.

We scoped out the dining room and tavern to decide where we’d prefer to eat that night – reservations had been strongly recommended by the check in staff. The helpful person taking dinner reservations looked me up and down and suggested the tavern rather than the dining room as we’d be a better fit for the lively crowd found in there. That’s us, always found hanging with the lively crowd.

Good beer – a lively pint for a lively me

We returned at 7pm and it was busy enough already, most of the tables filled with revellers at least twenty five years our senior. Many seemed to be enjoying the local draft dark beer, a stout called The Miner’s Daughter if I remember correctly. After a couple of pints I was tempted to sneak away from the youth set for a moment and peek in at the dining room, but thought better of it – wouldn’t have wanted to startle (awaken) the octogenarians (nonagenarians?) in there.

My brother joined us for dinner, looking relieved we were hanging out in the hipster bar – he might have mentioned it being the hip replacement bar, but relented when he heard about the dining room – and we had a great meal. So great we had to slump, almost comatose, in the nearby and very elegant reception room to allow for recovery before tackling the stairs to bed.

Anyway, I think we’ve discovered why I’ve never been paid or sponsored to write trip reviews… Let’s leave my dreadful ageism aside, and finish by saying if you ever find yourself near Berkeley Springs, WV, you’ll have a fine old (stop it, PC) time.

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

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!

Fall-tastic?

That’s not a word, but it is an attempt to convey how much we’ve been enjoying the season. Being up with or even ahead of the latest thing is so very much us, haha. Identifying fall is beautiful? Couldn’t be more on trend… Moron, you say? No, but I’ve been called worse, by worse…

Where was I? Clearly, you’re not going to get high quality season-centric (huh?) writing here (see “fall-tastic” above) but we really have enjoyed our eastern woodland leafy fall into autumn.

What a mood enhancer! We’re pretty chipper anyway most of the time, (don’t judge a book by it’s cover; it’s a smiling – on the inside – visage I present to the world) but being out in the woods the past few weeks has further boosted our generally sunny outlook. Each recent morning we’ll approach the local trail and murmur “that’s beautiful”, then a few yards on and a few turns into the trail, say again “that’s beautiful” and on and on we go.

The crisp air, the bright blue sky, the green through yellow through orange and into red leafy splendour, plus Scout’s bouncing gait, the wet-dry smell of leaf decay, and the satisfying crunch and scrunch underfoot? We add it up and our answer is “that’s beautiful!”

“Bouncing? Me? I’m far too dignified for that. But if you wanted to say beautiful…”

Yup, here we are this week struggling to find words and phrases to describe our autumnal adventures. Fall-tastic? Fallsome praise? Autumnulent? Why I autumn do better… Hmm. Should I stop, leaf it for now?

If you’re looking to read about fall – about any season – with thoughts on the joy found in the natural world, then head over to Walt at Rivertop Rambles. He posted this week, and, like always, it’s a great read. I’m not blowing smoke from a leafy bonfire up his a- … read him, and you’ll see.

Anyway, it’s far too nice outside to be in here writing. I can see the trees from my office window, glowing in sunny autumnal glory, and let me tell you, it’s beautiful!

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

“His vocabulary really is limited, isn’t it? I mean, bouncing?! What’s wrong with regal, majestic, purposeful…”

Old town wanders

Oh this past week or two! I mostly (mostly!) avoid the political sphere in this blog, but recent political news locally and globally has been something else, hasn’t it? Goodness, the whining and bleating of many of those on the right, the far right and alt-right! Avoid and avoid! What a void… What is it with the never taking responsibility, it’s always somebody else’s fault, and othering whoever doesn’t share their groupthink? Alternative facts, gaslighting, lying, doubling down on a lie and then blaming their supposed victims and targets if they answer back, so terrified of any comeback in case it turns out they have underachieved and are at fault? Don’t they ever stop to look at themselves and listen to what they are saying? Climate change deniers, election deniers, post truth – huh? – fact deniers, “we’ve had enough of experts”, lies on the side of a bus, promising sunlit uplands knowing the impossibility of such promises, putting immigrants on unsafe barges, denying basic human rights, and encouraging a hostile environment if you look or sound different. Painting over cartoon murals for children in immigration centres because that is too welcoming?! Who can support that?! Lies, lies, denials, and more lies! What is wrong with these people? It’s inhumane to behave in such a way. What do they hope to gain or achieve by being thoroughly unpleasant? It is so tiresome…

How to explain it? Perhaps they are weak and very likely personally ineffective, utterly and drearily so… Yikes, try to imagine living such a scared and self loathing life, appeased by fearful cronies and projecting their shortcomings onto others, completely unable to take any responsibility for messes of their own making. Sad little conservative nobodies clutching their pearls if there’s a different opinion expressed… Only feeling like they’ve achieved something if they’ve belittled or lied about someone else. Pathetic. Thank goodness we don’t have, in our very immediate circle, to put up with anyone like that. I feel rather sorry for anyone who does, particularly if they are afraid, and find themselves appeasing these awful people. Being so scared that they might turn on you, being so scared that you condone them, even enable them. Yes, how sad, although, scared or not, I suppose they choose to do so. If you lie down with…

Enough of these dreary people and the bad news they create! No more politics today! On to more interesting items!

Ever since we moved here, one of our favourite activities has been to wander through the Old Town streets. A friend (thanks, JH) recently mentioned how pretty parts of this city are, and she’s right, so I thought I’d share a few more sights and stops we’ve enjoyed the past few weeks. You don’t need a destination; it’s enough just to let your feet point in a direction anywhere in or near the Old Town, and it’ll be interesting. (Most of this past week has been spent in and out of various government offices completing and filing applications for health cards, driver licences, and car number plates – we didn’t take photos of the government office edifices as they weren’t so attractive!)

Found at the end of a cobbled street – worth the potential turned ankle!

People watching spot near the parliament building

Yes, very happy to be here, particularly as the paperwork and other dreary stuff this week is firmly in the rear view. Thanks for reading and I hope you have a wonderful weekend!

Cooling…

…and thank goodness, particularly after the recent mini heatwave! So, how have we spent these cooler days? (Be warned: bouncing around like a box kicked rugby ball, this post will chop and change more times than a fly half trying to fool the opposition, showing no coherence, like a game spoiled by a fussy rugby referee with a whistle breaking up the flow of a game, or, or, like a…) Yeah, if you don’t like rugby, maybe stop reading?

Let’s try the non-rugby stuff. Falling temperatures and falling leaves helped make the week a pleasant one. Scout has been very happy to get back to the woods, and we’ve enjoyed the almost bug free wandering through the trees. Yesterday morning was cool, close to the point of chilly, but it isn’t light jacket or rugby jersey weather quite yet.

Gentle breezes prompted some light leaf fall, and the photo below is colourful evidence autumn is more or less upon us.

Red leaves seems a reasonable reminder to look out for red ales (it does? On what planet, OPC?), and hats off to Brasseur de Montréal for their splendid red. Autumn in a glass with the cardboard and toffee caramel flavours I like in a red. It tasted far better than I’ve described it…

We spent a couple of mornings mooching about the Old Town, enjoying the slightly slower fall pace compared to the more full on summer visitor business. Shall we stop for a coffee and pastry? Oh, ok!

Almost forgot – rugby stuff! The rugby World Cup is in full swing, but at seven weeks long, I’ll pay more attention after some of the opening phases are finished. My hopes are very high indeed for Ireland, unrealistically high for England, somewhat high for France, but let’s be real – most likely New Zealand or South Africa will win the whole thing.

I recently read a great piece about remarkable rugby grounds in attractive locations, and for me, this place was the winner: (we’ve agreed with friends to watch a game there sometime and go for a pint or two of Guinness after!)

Donegal Town Rugby Club’s pitch, the Holmes, next to Donegal Bay in the Republic of Ireland. Photograph: Connor Doherty/Harper Collins

Must leave it here as there’s a rumour our backyard lawn (that’s too grand – let’s say patch of grass) is being laid today, needing my expertise (huh?) and fast developing skill with a garden hose. Nope, I’ve no idea where or why Scout is hiding…

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

	Maria on A short trip…
	plaidcamper on A short trip…
	Maria on A short trip…
	plaidcamper on Striding out…
	plaidcamper on Winter mountain hush