We’ve been spending the week at Little Bear cabin, Montana, disappearing for a while. Our days have been fast paced; books, small wanderings, sitting, books, sitting some more, and maybe a beer by the fire. Maybe.
One book I’ve really enjoyed is “Canoe Country” by Roy MacGregor. It’s a delightful account where MacGregor argues the canoe made Canada, and his argument is supported with tales and anecdotes about well known and less well known paddlers in Canadian history. If you’re even slightly intrigued by the canoe, you’ll like the book. Sitting outside a cabin up a mountain, it was like catnip for an old PlaidCamper. Mrs PC has been right to point out we have nowhere to store a canoe…
In a book full of memorable passages and quotes, here is one MacGregor uses that particularly appealed:
Every so often a disappearance is in order. A vanishing. A checking out. An indeterminate period of unavailability. Each person, each sane person, maintains a refuge, or series of refuges, for this purpose. A place or places, where they can, figuratively if not literally, suspend their membership in the human race.” (John A. Murray, Colorado naturalist)
Most of the time, being a member of the human race is just fine, and I maintain that most people are well intentioned and propose no ill will to their fellows. However, the weight of bad news headlines prefacing endless appalling atrocities and scandals are apparently the only stories worth telling, and this can take a toll. Thank goodness for Little Bear, and all the other natural refuges available to those lucky enough to reach them. And perhaps there’s still time this summer, for those so inclined, to find a new place or two – maybe even traveling there by canoe…(don’t worry, Mrs PC, we’ll rent it!)
Thanks for reading, and have an enjoyable weekend!
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:
Looking good for tomorrow…
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.
What wet weather?
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.
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.
Easy hiking, but a bit damp
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…)
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.
Empty road, empty head
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.
Little Bear
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!
…up on the fells. To be more accurate, the pathway wasn’t lost, it was pretty much where it had always been the past few hundred years or more. Far more accurately, we lost the pathway, being relatively unused to hiking across bracken and over grass uplands under heavy lowering clouds.
Lost? Us?! Just look for distinctive features. Don’t tell them, but one sheep (and sheep trail) looks much like another, as do tough little trees silhouetted against grey skies, and drystone walls are quite beautiful, but hard to differentiate (to the untrained eye!)These aren’t complaints though! We were lucky enough to be wandering around Eskdale and nearby valleys in the Lake District National Park, located in NW England. We hadn’t been there in over fifteen years, so we were excited to return. We stayed at The Woolpack Inn, and could hike any number of paths right out the door. A pub, meeting up with my brother, good food, excellent beer, and great walking? Well, alright! And did I mention, The Woolpack is a pub? And my brother was there? We still managed earlyish starts…
A lovely area, dotted with lakes, rugged hills, farms and ancient monuments, from Roman times and before, walking trails crisscross the Lake District. Some take an hour or two to complete, many require a long day, and some several days. All are beautiful, passing along and over drystone walls, small rivers and becks, and pastures full of sheep. With high annual rainfall, it is usually wet, and can be downright boggy in places, but the payoff is a green, green, green and green lush landscape. Walkers flock to these hills, but even in high summer it is easy enough to find quiet trails. Well, it is easy enough to find peace and quiet – sometimes the trail itself can be a little harder follow. We would be striding along confidently enough when the path was a muddy track hugging the clear contour of a hill. But when it forked into patches of bracken or seemed to disappear through bog land, then we often found ourselves having to backtrack or cast around for a (the?) more obvious route.
Not overly difficult, but with so many sheep and young lambs about, we didn’t want to cause too much disturbance. Mostly we didn’t, but every now and then a sheep would unexpectedly bleat loudly and crash away through the bracken if we got too close. Makes you jump when that happens…
Drystone walls aren’t built to delight passing walkers and prompt poets, but they are wonderful constructions, and quite impossible not to admire. Sheep farming and trying to make a living from it up on the fells is really tough (read The Shepherd’s Life by James Rebanks for an honest and uncompromising account of this life. His tale of how, over the years, he loved, loathed, and then loved farming Herdwick sheep is an unsentimental, unflinching and heartfelt history of his family’s efforts to run their farm – a great read, I promise you!) but in this landscape it is easy to see how poets, painters and photographers are tempted to romanticize…
Hopefully we will return here again and become lost once more – in the best possible way!
…in the Monnow valley on the Welsh-English borders. Sounds far more dangerous than it really was, but that’s not to say there wasn’t an element of danger.
We were staying at The Bell in Skenfrith, a lovely old coaching inn about 40 minutes from where we used to live in the UK. When we were there, we used to say wouldn’t it be great to have a night or two and go on hikes in the local countryside? Well, many years later, that’s exactly what we did!
The pub is great, with good food and beer, comfortable rooms, and really friendly staff. After eating a breakfast larger than your normal calories consumed in a week, you have to go for a wander in the surrounding area just to work it off, and work up an appetite for your evening meal. Oh dear…
There are any number of circular hikes that take in old churches, ruined castles, ancient rights of way, and beautiful scenery. Many of the public footpaths cross farmland, with fields full of crops, sheep and cattle. Overhead, red kites circle, riding thermals and calling across green and gold valleys enclosed by high hedgerows and dotted with woods. It is very pleasant country to hike through.
Our particular route wound along the Monnow valley, following the river that marks the boundary between England and Wales. On a warm and humid day, we walked a couple of hours before encountering some other hikers. They were a group of about twenty senior citizens, well equipped with walking poles and old school hiking boots. Almost all greeted us with a cheery “good morning” and almost all issued a warning about a bull in the next field:
“But don’t worry, ‘e didn’t bother us, and ‘e won’t bother you!”
Hmm. Perhaps because you’re in a large group and you descended into his pasture from above the tree line?
We thanked them for the warning, waved farewell, and tramped up the hill and over the crest to the next stile. Oh. Yup, there was a young bull, and he was in front of a small herd of fifteen or so cows. Mrs PC let me go first.
I clambered up onto the stile, stood at the top and looked down at the bull. We shared a moment, eye contact, where I projected that we meant no harm and would cross his field quick-smart and with no harm done. Peace, love and understanding, and I wouldn’t order the steak that evening. He took two paces closer to the stile. Not to be deterred, I stepped down onto his side, exuding confidence. It was a public right of way, after all! He took another pace towards me, then stamped his front hoof and pawed the ground. Exuding fear, I leapt back up onto the stile. He pawed the ground again, and took another step forward. I gave up, and we went the long way around. Ole!
We backtracked to a small church, where we sat and ate our picnic lunch. Of course, the group of senior hikers were also enjoying a stop, and they were most amused that we’d turned back. They were further amused to learn we lived and hiked regularly in Canada:
“So you hike there? Yes? But don’t you have bears? Wolves? Moose? And you were turned around by a bull?!”
Happy to have made their day, we carried on and finished our hike, going the longer way round, and without further bovine stand offs. If I ate meat, I’d have ordered a steak that night…ah, yes, running with the bulls…
Thanks for reading! Please feel free to comment or share a story, and have a wonderful weekend!
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.
Early evening, raining soon!
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…
Bright skies
…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!)
Early morning light
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!
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.
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!
Almost ready
Thanks for reading! Please feel free to leave a comment or share a story, and have a wonderful weekend!
A tiny delight
(With the exception of the bald eagle, all the photographs were taken less than 10 metres from our tent – it was a beautiful site!)
…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…)
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.
Ferny…
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.
…and frondy
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…
Texture
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.
Stop here! (Is there a hint of seal about the driftwood?)Insects, yum!
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.
Above Florencia
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!
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.
Spring in Big Valley, AB
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.
Summer, near Tofino BC
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.
Have a seat, let’s talk!
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.
Above Canmore, AB
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…
Fall in Montreal QC
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!
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!
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.
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?
Oh, summer!
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:
Thirteenby 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?
Summer, summer, summer!
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 Gurlsby 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…
Hello, summer!
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!