The Gambler Folds

Kenny Rodgers said it best- "You gotta know when to hold 'em; know when to fold them; know when to walk away, know when to run."  Well I ran, okay it was more like a fast paced waddle, out of Killarney park yesterday.   About an hour and a half after setting up camp the first day I started to feel not so great.  That's when I started making deals with myself.  If "XY and Z gets better by bed time I will continue on with the original plan."  When that didn't pan out I made a new deal "If by morning this is or that symptom is better I will go to the next stop and then play it by ear from there."  But the deadline for each deal passed and my stipulated conditions were never met which left me with a tough decision.  Gamble and continue on, with the risk of things getting worse or play it safe and return to hike another day.  My heart really, really, really wanted to stay but the reasonable part of my brain won out and I hiked out.  So my GRAND Killarney adventure consisted of driving 4.25 hours, hiking 2 hours, sleeping over night, hiking out and driving home dejected and feeling worse by the hour.  I normally start hankering for burgers and other delightful food items as soon as I start hiking out of the bush.  Not this time.  All that consumed my mind was my bed..... getting under the covers, curling up in a ball and delighting in the feeling of deluxe foam support.

With that said I did manage to pack in a fair amount of adventure in the short time frame I was there and lucky for you I am willing to relive it from the safety and comfort of my living room.

First off the drive there exposed me to a new fav song-  "Fireproof" by Coleman Hell.  It is a great little ditty that had me car dancing and looking forward to the next time the radio station would play it.  I am listening to it as I write this..... you would think that I would know by now that "chair" dancing while sitting on a therapy ball is very risky... but I just can't help it.... the music just has a beat that requires expressive movement... even if that movement ends in a splat!

Killarney Provincial Park

Daunting.... no?

There is nothing like the anticipation that builds as you get your permit and head to the day use parking area.  Off with the sandals, on with the wool socks and boots.  One last check of the pack.  Locked and loaded you start the walk up to the trail head.  

Killarney is Killarney.  Killarney does sugar coat what you will be in for.  It relishes making people work.  If you do your part and stick it out it will slowly share its' beauty and secrets.  You will become part of the Killarney club and you will find yourself wanting more.  

But first you have to make it up the entrance to the trail.   It starts with a monster scramble up what seems like a never ending hill that ends on an expansive rock face.  

In fact there are many sections on the trail where you end up traveling over open rock faces with no blazes to follow.  In these sections you look for rock cairns to point you in the right direction.  Well this year not more than 3 minutes into the hike I got lost.  Not LOST, lost but lost enough to have me muttering "Where the fuck are the bloody blue blazes."  If you should ever encounter this type of situation here is what you do.....  back track to the last blaze that you saw.  Stand there and look around until you find the next blaze.  After back tracking I realized that someone had built a "faux" cairn to the left that had tricked me into thinking that was the trail.  In pure Bugs Bunny fashion....  I should have taken a right turn at Albuquerque instead.  Back on the path I  continued on my merry little way.  

It did not take long before I had my first clash with the rocks.  I truly, truly love rocks.  I collect them.  I cherish them..... they are my preciouses.  Rocks do not share the same love for me.  Rocks insist on taking me down.   Rocks are not satisfied unless I am broken, battered and bleeding.  When I purchased my hiking boots I specifically asked about the grip ability of the soles, knowing that it does not take much for me to skid down a rock face.  I was told that the boots had supreme grip..... maybe for others... not so for me.

It really was an innocent looking little rock embedded in the dirt.  I stepped on it and before I knew it my foot started skidding over the surface of the rock.  I went down hard landing on my knee.   There was an immense stinging where the flesh had been rubbed raw from contact with the ground and a bruise had already started forming, but there was minimal blood and nothing seemed broken so I got up and walked it off.

That was about 10 minutes into the hike.

It left me very cautious on the other sections that required me to walk down steep rock faces.  How steep?  A guess would be anywhere from 50 - 75 degree incline/decline depending on the section and the direction you are traveling.  

If a small little rock on a relatively flat section could cause some damage.... just imagine what a gigantic rock on a steep pitch could do.  For these sections of the trail I opted to use the "bear lumber" walk I perfected last year.   I head down the hill backward with my weight dispersed between my hands and feet.    Four points of contact with the ground seems to work the best for me.   Not the most attractive hiking position in the world but it was effective in making sure I stayed on my feet.

This is the view from the first panoramic vista you come to on the trail.

Can never get enough of this view

I chuckled yesterday when I came upon a family that had reached this section of the trail.  The Dad spread his arms wide when he came to this point and was looking back over his shoulder at his family.   His look said it all.... "This is the absolute ultimate.... it is worth every ache in my lungs and legs to be able to experience this."  His actions are exactly how I feel when I am walking this trail.  I sometimes get despondent and question my sanity for carrying a heavy pack (which ended up being 58 lbs) over rugged terrain but when I get to spots like this I am  reminded of why I am doing it.  Being out in nature..... getting to see sights that many never will experience... challenging myself to go further to see more..... to enjoy life.   This can all be surmised with a grand sweeping open of the arms and raising of the chest to the sky.  LOVE!

The view of the other side isn't bad either

This is my third time on this section of trail. I  should know it like the back of my hand but I found myself continually surprised by "new" hills.    When I would get to these sections my first thought was "Hey, when the heck did this get put here?"  Then I would vaguely recollect a I had a similar response the last time I was there.   Really!!! How can my memory be so selective about hills?

I ended up meeting a couple on the trail who had been hiking the full LaCloche and had been on the trail 9 days.  They reported the nights had been getting chillier but it was a welcome change from the blistering heat and humidity of the day.  We laughed about long range forecasts and how they really don't mean much... the couple thought they would have nine days of sun.  Not so much.  They had one night in a major storm and got to hike down "The Crack" in constant rain.  It is fun meeting new people and hearing about their experiences on the trail.

My plan is to one day hike the full trail.  How long is it? Well that part is a math mystery.  One sign says it is 100km.   Another says 78km and when I added up the distances on Jeff's map of the park it tallied a total of 68 km and that was taking a side excursion to hike up to Silver Peak and back.    Which is it I wonder?   All I know is, it is recommend to take 7-10 days to walk the entire trail.

SEALY LAKE

The Leaning Tower of Tree

I made it to Sealy Lake in the time indicated on Jeff's map, even with the getting lost and taking time to chat.... high-five's all around!

Before setting up the tent I spent a fair bit of time trying to decide which direction this tree would fall if the rest of it decided to come down.  After much deliberation I chose to set my tent up to the far right of the tree, well out any path of destruction.

Home for a day

The Lucky Rock & it's new safety sack

I was super excited to try out my newly fashioned rock tossing bag.  See I have this lucky rock from the shores of Lake Superior.  This rock has a 98%  success rate in helping me get the rope to hang the food bag from,  in the tree, within one to two attempts.  I typically just tie the rope around the rock, but last year I came close to losing the lucky rock when it fell out rope basket I had fashioned for it.  This would not be a problem if I was on the shores of Superior, as there are plenty of replacement rocks to choose from.  In Killarney there aren't many small loose rocks around so to loose the lucky rock would mean the food could not be hung.... which is an invitation for scavenging and bear encounters.   This year I decided to make a corduroy bag to house the rock.  The bag gives me something to attach the rope to but securely houses the rock minimize the risk of loosing it.

SUCCESS.... got the rope up on the first try..... THANK-YOU Lucky Rock!

Once the tent was up and the food hung I decided it was time to get out of my sopping wet clothing.  I hoped there was enough of a breeze and sunlight left for it dry out before nightfall.   Sealy Lake is a nice little secluded spot so if you want to walk around in your underwear..... you can.  Another bonus of hiking alone.... you don't have to worry about being decent at all times.

With camp all set up I had a bunch of free time to fill until supper.  To pass the time I took a few pictures.

Mid-day view of Sealy Lake

Reflections

Lillies

It was an active cloud day

I find weird things interesting

When I got bored of taking pictures I decided to bask in the sun on one of the rocks.  That is where my very white belly attracted some curious dragon flies.  It became a landing strip until I couldn't hack the tickling sensation any longer and headed into the tent.

Once indoors I read  a little.....  marvelled at how roomy the tent is sans dogs....  figured out the route I will take when I hike the full trail and did some math figuring out distances and walking times for this route to make sure it would be manageable.

It didn't take long until I felt the need to stretch my legs again so I took a little jaunt around the site.  I sat and meditated and at one point I started missing the dogs.  I decided to use food to distract myself from impending melancholia and started the ritual of preparing my evening meal.

In a blink of an eye it was suddenly bedtime.  About 30 minutes after lights out there was this horrible shrieking coming from the bush.  I sat up, heart racing.... "What the hell was that."  I listened and nothing.  I laid back down and started drifting back to sleep only to be awakened by the shriek again.   This time it was a repetitive 4 shrieks.   After my heart stopped pounding in my ears I recognized the "Who, who." call of an owl was happening after each of the shrieks.   So either it was the owl shrieking or it was the prey.   My second "encounter" with nature came the next morning.  I had just collected the food bag when I heard a ROAR in the distance.  A few minutes later there was another roar.   The best I could figure, some bears were having a polite conversation or  a territorial dispute.  Either way I was glad that it wasn't close.

There is nothing quite like the feeling of sitting on a rock in the brisk morning air with the rays from the sunrise warming your arms and your face.  I sat there and took in the moment.  Simple..... majestic.... it filled me with gratitude for having this opportunity, even if it was just for a short while.

Sunrise at Sealy Lake

My heart was not ready to give up on the plan to hike 35.4 kms.  I continued to make deals with myself all morning, but by the time I had packed up camp I realized that the best decision for me was to head out.  I said good-bye to seeing what the elusive H49 and H48 sites looked like and made a mental choice to enjoy each and every moment I had left in Killarney.  I stopped at a lovely spot to have some food and read a chapter in my book before continuing on my journey out of Killarney.

I sidled up to the edge for this shot...

The shot above was taken from the edge of the cliff on the point on the right. 

I don't know if I have blogged about this before, but for 2016 I have been keeping a daily gratitude journal to help me focus on the positive things that happen each day.  Here are all the things that made it to the gratitude list on Aug 28th:

•  I found the trail again.
•  I did not badly hurt my knee when I fell.
•  I got to catch my breath while enjoying the view of the first vista.
• The first vista has cell coverage to allow me to send out final texts and pictures.   
• My tent is cozy
• The delightful refreshing feeling of lying down and stretching out after carrying something heavy.
• My pack was only one tier which allowed me to limbo under the fallen tree blocking the path.
• That I was tall enough to be able to sit and rotate over another fallen tree blocking the path.  
• That the muddy sections were not so muddy.
• The bear hanging rope went up and over in one shot and the rock bag worked.
• Sunbeams..... basking.... sunbeams!
• No issues with the water filter.
• That I had arrived with lots of time for my clothes to dry.
• I had brought a thought provoking book.



The Limo Tree

Sometimes plans don't work out the way you think they should.  Sometimes they don't have to.  I had a delightful escape from daily life for 24 hours and I cherish every hour that I had at Killarney.

Before I headed home I took this picture as proof of the trail distance discrepancies.  I tried squatting to get a better angle.... I did not account for the slight downhill in this area.  The weight of the pack pulled me back and I ended up on my derriere.  I took the picture from a seated position and then began the process of  returning to an upright standing position.  Very glad there wasn't anyone around to witness that.

The dispute over the exact distance of the trail continues....

I don't know if I will get to Killarney in 2017 as I will be travelling to Scotland.  However in 2018 I am bound and determined to hike the full distance whether it be 100, 78 or 68 km.  This hike will help prepare me for when I hike the West Highland Way with my brother in 2020. If you ever have a chance I would recommend a visit to Killarney.... just don't tell the rocks I sent you... they might hold it against you.

Bonus Fit Bit Facts-  The hike to Sealy Lake is 5.4 km and is the equivalent of climbing 62 sets of stairs.  On the way out I had reached my daily 10,000 steps by 10:30 am.  





 

I'm Just a Rambling Woman....

As is the theme of my life... what I should be doing at any given moment, is not what I am doing.  What I should be doing is finishing up packing my back-pack and tidying the house so the house/cat care sitter does not feel the need to enter into the witness protection program out of fear that I will ask them to sit again.

But where would be the fun in that!!!!  Life would feel too calm if I was  not up until midnight frantically washing floors and vacuuming.  Therefore I sit here and blog.

I will be heading back to Killarney Provincial Park to hike "The Crack" for a third year in a row.  What started my downward spiral into slothfulness and blogging today was the conflicting long range weather forecasts for the upcoming week.    All week long I have been checking the long range forecast multiple times a day and rejoicing or wincing based on the changes.  At first there was to be all day rain, but then that cleared up... hooray.  Then there was to be thunderstorms when I would be on the high ridges.... Boo.  Then the thunderstorms would only be happening at night..... hooray.  Never in all of these forecasts was there a hint that the night time temperature was going to dip into the frigid zone.  I had already packed my clothes based on this assumption, but when I saw the Environment Canada forecast today I cried a little.  Environment Canada is now predicting night time temperatures of 9 degrees.   Environment Canada-  your doom and gloom weather forecasting is breaking my heart!

Nine degrees is damn cold when you are in a tent by yourself and don't have a dog to canoodle with for warmth.  I was just going to sleep in lightweight thermal long johns... now I am debating packing the polar fleece bottoms and an extra jacket.... both of which add a lot of weight and bulk to the pack.  The Weather Network is still predicting nicer nights with a low of 14... brisk but practically tropical when compared with 9 degrees.

Do I choose to believe The Weather Network or pack for the worst case scenario?

Now don't be thinking The Weather Network is off the hook.  They, and only they,  are predicting thunderstorms the day that I am high, high up on the exposed Crack section of the trail.  Ahhh there is no winning.  I have now spent the morning "refreshing" my memory on how to tell how far away a storm is and what to do in case you are outside in a major storm.   This has left me confused and pissy.  The main formula that I found is the simple enough i.e count the seconds between thunder and lighting and that tells you how many miles away the storm is.

This is great if you can tell how long a mile actually is!!!!!

I can not!

I am vaguely better at telling how far a km is.... but that formula involves math... a lot of it and that just hurts my head to try and figure it out.   Just picture it.... a storm is brewing and I am whipping out my trusty calculator and furiously inputting numbers only to forget to hit a frigging button and then WHAM! Struck by lighting!!!!!!

What I have chosen to take away from all my afternoon Googling about storms is this..... lighting and major storm cells....

BAD....

AVOID......

If I can't avoid..... I will start praying to all that will listen, will cross my fingers and hope I am a lucky son-of-a-bitch.  Just typing that out I think I like my formula the best.... no math involved, jut pure blind faith!

This trip was booked six months ago to ensure I did not have to walk 25 plus kms to get to a camp site. You think I am joking, but I am not.  Killarney campers are very serious about getting their preferred sites and will do anything to get them.   I met a woman last year who booked her sites last minute the closest site she could get was 28km from her first stop on the trail.  You don't mess around with booking Killarney!

As it turns out booking 6 months in advance still did not guarantee that I could hike where I wanted to.   The plan was to hike out 30 km and come back the same route,  over a 5 day period.   I could not get the sequence of sites that I wanted to follow for this plan to happen.  So I am now doing 35.4 km in the same time frame.  The one unique thing this year is I get to stay at the illusive H48 camp site.  For three years I have been trying to book this site but it and the H49 sites are "reserved" for hikers doing the full 78km LaCloche Trail.  Imagine my surprise when it was open.  I had my choice between the two and chose H48.  A choice I am now slightly regretting as according to "Jeff's Map" access to the water is steep which means pumping water may be a little on the tricky side.

Who is Jeff?

Well Jeff is a dude that hikes Ontario trails and adds helpful comments to original maps and then sells his version of maps to others.  There is great information on Jeff's maps like-  "Caution- don't make a left turn at Albuquerque"  although he words his like this "Watch out- make sure you are going the right direction here."  I obviously did not have the map handy when I booked as I confidently said give me H48.  Fingers crossed Jeff exaggerates and steep is not STEEEEPPPP!

Sealy Lake

Day 1-  Will be a lovely little 5.3 km jaunt in to Sealy Lake.  I remember the first time I did this part of the trail I thought it was the longest 5.3 km known to man kind.  Last year I laughed at myself as it felt like I blinked and I was there.  Sealy Lake is nice camp site with plenty of options for bear hanging your food.  The only drawback is the water is a little reedy so finding a spot to pump can be a challenge.

Day 2 is "The Crack" day.  It is the part of this trail that offers the most spectacular views but the views come at a cost.  The trail is a gruelling uphill climb made all the more gruelling by the stark contrast to the tra-la-la flat trail that you start off on from Sealy Lake.  You cross a creek and there it is "the wall" of up, up, up.  It reminds me a little of "The Friendly Giant" look up.... look waaaaaayyyyyy uuupppppp!  The minute you do, you regret it.  You wish you could unsee what you have seen..... yes it looks that daunting.  The first year I hiked it, I wore warm layers under my clothes as it was the fall and chilly that day.  I regretted my choice of wearing thermals about 10 steps up this section of trail.  I ended up stripping down to my skivvies on the side of the trail so that I could remove those dastardly thermals.  It felt so good to have cool air hit my burning flesh.  Ahhh!

This section of trail kinda lulls you into a false sense of security.  As you reach the peak of the section you are climbing you think  "Glad that is done, bring on the flat or the down hill."  But then you look up and you realize there is more up, followed by more up, followed by...... "For the love of the LORD when will this up ever end."

As mentioned there is a great pay off at the top... the first pay off is the view, the second pay off is the feeling of victory that the climb didn't kill you and the third is knowing you can head to the gift store on your way out of the park and you can buy a commemorative t-shirt to celebrate and brag about your win over nature.

I will be ending Day 2 at Proulx Lake.  I am hoping that I am able to make it there with all bones in place.  Last year I had a nasty fall by the turn off for this camp site.  I thought I sprained my ankle but a month later found out that what I really had done was dislocate two bones in my lower leg.  How is that for hard core...  walking over 20km on dislocated bones!!!!!   In total Day 2 will have me travelling  6.4 km of trail.  A short section that packs a lot of ups and downs into it... both literally and figuratively.

Day 3-  Brings the unknown.  I will be hiking out to Bunnyrabbit Lake.  It will be a slightly shorter hiking day as it is 6 km from Proulx Lake.  It will be interesting exploring a part of the LaCloche trail that I have not been on before.  I wonder what it will have in store for me?  Well crap.... just looked at Jeff's Map and this site is supposed to have steep access to the water as well.... NUTS!  

Day 4-  Will be a mystery.  At some point I will be hiking 1.9km back on the trail to my next site at Heaven Lake.  The mystery will be what I do before I head back.  I might just have a lazy morning or I might just try a day hike to Silver Lake  first (about 10km).  If I do decide to go to Silver Lake I will get to hike over Silver Peak which is the highest point in the Park.... which also means I can purchase another bragging rights t-shirt at the park office.   We will see how energetic I end up being.   At least I know Heaven Lake does not have steep water access... Thank goodness for small wonders.

Day 5-  Brings the return of the "Crack".... but it is the Crack in reverse as I will be going down not up.  It will be a killer on the knees and feet, but my lungs will love it.    I have two options on Day 5- I can hike out the full 16.1 km, get a refund for the last night and head home to a shower, comfy bed and meat.... glorious, glorious meat or I could stop at the site I reserved on Wagon Rd Lake which cuts 2.4km off my travel for the day.   Given that Wagon Rd Lake is adjacent to beaver dam and a little on the swampy side I am sure I will decide to walk out vs risking getting Giradia.

Why do I do trips like this????

Solitude.......

The Crack Tree's

The scenery......

View from Heaven's Lake

and last but not least the WHOO HOO feeling of accomplishment

Trail to the Crack

I'll post about my adventures when I get back, until then take care y'all!

Macho, macho, whoa..... man!

Blogging note:  A majority of this post was written during the last day of 2015.  I put it "away" to proof-read later and then time and life happened and I didn't get to it.  Better late than never.

It is the final days of the 365 challenge.  I sit here listening to the soundtrack I created for my life and reminisce.  What has been the most defining moment of my life?   Was there a moment, that if it did not happen, would have resulted in a totally different outcome?   A moment that would have resulted in my writing this post in a different locale or in a different house or maybe my not writing something at all?

This challenge took a lot of reflection, comparing and contrasting.  I have finally made a decision as to what I am going to write about......

The defining moment in my life was a comment my parents made when I was 2 or 3 years old.  It was a simple statement of fact, it was not something that was intended to dwell upon, but for me it ended up being life altering.

What could they have said to a toddler that could be so profound?

"You were supposed to be a boy."  (I am sure that is not how they phrased it, but it the version my brain retained.)

See my parents had a plan.  Their first child was a girl. The next one should be a boy.  They would then have had a complete child set and could retire from the baby making game.  But I wasn't a boy... I was a girl, so it was back to the bump and grind of trying to secure a male heir.

My parents never held my lack of maleness against me.... but I did.  Such a simple statement of fact ended up getting warped and was eventually transformed into things that my parents never meant to imply-

• I disappointed them.  
• I could not get anything right.
• Boys are better than girls... why else would they want a boy when they already had two perfectly great children.  

These faulty thought patterns seemed to take on a life of their own.  I wanted to fix it.   After much deliberation I hit upon the perfect solution-  if I was more "boy like" my parents would be happier (keep in mind I was three years old when I came up with this solution so be gentle with your judgment)

That was it!!!!

That would make everything better!!!!!!

Decision made; I threw myself into my new role of "boy".  

• I cultivated my HATRED of the colour pink..... blue was my colour.  

• Kittens were for girls... kittens were now on the hate list.... I was all about the dogs.

• Girls sat and played quietly.  That was not for me... I  developed my climbing skills.  No tree, fence or wall were too high or safe from my clambering form.  I remember getting into trouble for climbing the chair "tree" I had constructed for the sole purpose of exiting via the basement window.  

• Girls were demure.  I awakened  my inner daredevil-  experimenting with electricity, using straight razors like the adults, doing flips off the top bunk, trees, monkey bars.... really anything that one could flip off of... I flipped off of.   

• I rebelled against anything indicative of feminine attire.  My poor mother liked to dress my sister and me in homemade matchy, matchy dresses.  I started refusing to wear dresses.    When I was forced to wear one, I would come up with some excuse to wear jeans underneath-  "My legs are cold!"  "It's going to cramp my monkey bar escapades!  How can I hang upside down?"  It took a few years but my mother eventually gave up forcing dresses on me.

• Girls liked playing with dolls..... bring on the trucks!

By the time I was 5 years old I had fully transformed into a "tom" boy.  Unfortunately all my efforts to reinvent myself were all for nought.

My brother arrived.

I remember feeling like I had failed.  If I had been better at being a "boy" my parents wouldn't have had to have my brother.

It was all over!!!!!!!!

The parents finally got what they wanted... a boy.   They now have a girl and a boy.... that made me what???????   Spare parts?????

The birth of my brother brought a new resolve-  I would prove to my parents that girls were just as good as boys....  Yah right!!!!  I was 4 years old and even then I had perfectionist tendencies so I wasn't aiming for 50/50  I was aiming for 110%.

Over the years I have dropped the competition factor and am a champion for equality for all.   But, it was this need to prove that I was better than any boy that influence the path a travelled to get to this point in my life.

This quest fostered the development of my:

Persistence- One of the surest ways to get me to dig in my heels is to tell me I can't do something.   That type of rhetoric fuels me.  I remember one year purchased a huge 8 foot scotch pine for my Christmas tree.  It took up a 1/4 of a very large room-  at room that became know as the tree room as nothing else would fit in it.  I cut the tree down. I loaded and unloaded it on the truck.  Bound it so it would get through the door and once it was inside I started to put it up.  There was one problem-  It would not stay up.  It kept falling.  I could not centre it, hold it and screw in the bolts of the tree stand.  I was on the phone lamenting to my mother when she said-  "Ask one of your guy friends to come and help.  You need a man to help you!"

NOOOOOOooooooooooo!

Picture it.  I am under the tree bracing the trunk with one foot, the other hooked around the tree stand to stabilize it.  I am hold the tree upright with my left arm while I contort my body so that I could sink the bolts of the base into the tree trunk.  Then I proceeded to anchor the tree to the wall using as system of ropes and nails.  No man needed!
Victory!

Fight-A-Tude
I do not hold stock that women should let others protect them.  Why rely on others when you can do it yourself.  I can pack a punch and scrap with the best of them, especially when others are being unjust to those who cannot defend themselves.    I am smart enough to use my verbal skills first but if it is "Go time", I will do my best to take the other person down.

I remember the Christmas my cousin got a set of red leather boxing gloves.  He challenged me to a match.   I don't think he was expecting the pounding that I laid on him.  I'm sure he was thinking it was going to be a friendly little spar.  He didn't realize that I had a lot riding on the outcome.  This "match" was being witnessed by all the adult males in my life and what a better time to prove that girls can do anything boys can do.   I remember looking around the room at the end and seeing the look of disbelief and dare I say it pride on the faces of my dad and Grandpa.

When I entered University I was always irritated by the well intentioned advice being offered by the boys-  "You went where, at night by yourself!!!!!  You should take one of us with you next time.  It is dangerous for a lone female to walk on campus at 2 am."  I think I proved that I could take care of myself the night the guys decided to tub the girls..... tubbing by the way is where a tub is filled with water and you get unceremoniously dumped in.

A friend had been targeted as the next tubbing victim.  She didn't want to be tubbed so I tackled the guy who was trying to move her, which allowed her to escape.  Now I was the target for a tubbing.  Dude grabbed me from behind and pinned my arms to my side.  He tried to carry me through the door of the lounge, down the hall, but I stopped his progress by bracing my feet on either side of the doorframe.  He tried again and again, I blocked progress every time.  It dawned on him that this approach was not going to work so he turned around to back out the doorway.   He wasn't prepared for me using my legs to push off on the door frame on the other side (who says watching wrestling doesn't provide useful life skills).  He toppled over backward and cushioned my fall.  Sadly, tubbing me switched from being a challenge for one to a challenge for many-  four more guys swooped in, all focused making sure I was dunked in that frickin' tub.    I did not make it easy for them, kicking and clawing all the way down the hall.   I even  managed to get away once.   In the end I got tubbed but the dudes were rewarded for their effort with numerous bruises and muscle strains.   There was no mention of my need for a male escort after that incident.  I guess the guys decided I could protect myself.

A Short Term Farmer-
I think my Dad was excited by my brother's arrival as he finally had someone to pass the legacy of farming down to.  As soon as my brother was tall enough to touch the clutch and see over the steering wheel he was expected to go out to the farm with my dad.  My brother hated it!  He liked to sleep in and play video games.  Sitting in a tractor covered with grease and grime was neither of these things.  I asked to learn how to drive the tractor and was told in no uncertain terms " No."   My dad was perfectly okay with me tagging along to shovel grain..... it saved him having to get into the grain bin and from climbing on top of the grain truck to roll out the tarp but that was the extent he was willing to allow me to participate in the process.

For years, weekend mornings would look like this-  My brother sitting at the kitchen table gloomy staring into his bowl of Cheerios' and me glaring at him irritated that he got to go and I didn't.  I was well into my university years when I took matters into my own hands.  I asked my brother to teach me how to drive the tractor and use the cultivator.  He gladly agreed, as he realized this might be his ticket out of having to go to the farm.  Once my dad realized I could do ground work he gave me lessons in seeding.  The timing could not be better as the family was farming both set of grandparents land, so help was needed.  I farmed with my dad and brother for two years before moving.  It was a great two years.

A Champion of Equality
There was one thing that irked me when I was younger and that was the assumption that because I was a girl my purpose was to cook and clean.   My dad's friends would make comments about when I got older I would get married and have children and be a stay at home mom. I looked at them and boldly said-  "If I ever have children, I will continue to work, my husband can stay at home with the kids."  They got a hoot out of that one.

I remember my Grandpa J commenting- "You'll never get a husband if you can't cook."  My response-  "If all that a guy wants is my cooking... I don't want him!"  I abstained from using cooking skills for a long time... because I am ornery like that!

As I mentioned I farmed with my dad and brother.  My dad was of a similar opinion as my grandfather.  A man does not cook if there was a woman around who could do it.  In fact he drove from the farm house out to the far field to tell me that it was lunch time and that he would take over seeding so I could go in and make us all some lunch.

I was furious.....

He had just been mere steps from the house and could have easily gone in and made lunch for everyone.  He could have drove over to my brother who was closer and told him to go in to make lunch.... but no... I was the best person to make lunch.

I fumed all the way back to the house.  I fumed while I made their stinking sandwiches.... I was too mad to eat.   I was ready to punch something or someone by the time I was done......  a Tornado of fury and indignation.  As I was leaving the house the damn bagels fell out of the bag and landed in the dirt.

I went into Rumpelstiltskin mode, ranting and raving.... there was even some frenetic jumping up and down.  Now I would have to make more FUCKIN' sandwiches!

Or would I....

I experienced a moment of calm and clarity.  I through out the bagel top that could not be salvaged and decided it was time for a little Russian Roulette-  bagel style.  I washed the cold cuts as best as I could under the stream of water from the water jug.... did I mention there was no running water in the house.  I scraped off the mustard that was black with dirt and if less then a 1/4 of the bagel was affected i.e. dingy grey I reused it.  Hmmmm...... nothing more mustard can't cover.  I placed the bagels back in the bag with the clean ones not he bottom and the two "5 second rule" bagels on the top.  When I reached the field my brother and my dad were waiting.

"What took you so long?" they asked

"I had a hard time washing the grease off my hands."  I said.

On the drive over I had decided that I would let fate decide who got the affected bagels.  If they both said- "You pick first... you made them."  I would eat the top bagel.  You can probably guess but there was no chivalry there.   The pecking order they decided to go with was....  Dad-  he won the grittiest bagel; My brother- Mr. Hint o' Grit and then me.

Spectacular!!!  Anger was immediately replaced with euphoria.

My dad made a face and commented on the earthiness of his bagel.  I countered with " Have you seen the inside of the Nissan; of course the bagels got dirty during transport." and that was the end of it.  My brother never noticed or if he did he was wise enough to keep it to himself.

While we were eating I told my brother and dad that I had no intention of being their cook and maid all weekend.  The only fair solution was we each took turns making meals.  They agreed.  Of course, their turns consisted of calling for take-out from town, but the meal preparation duties were equally divided so I did not care.... much.

(If you hear a loud noise after reading this section, don't panic.   It's just my Dad yelling "I KNEW IT!!!".   Until this point I have denied, denied, denied.  Daddy please consider this confession part of your early birthday present)

Resilience
Growing up I often felt like I was not enough.  Overshadowed by my siblings.  I was the "Jan" of the bunch, the middle of the middle,  and it was not such a "Brady" feeling.  There was no happy resolution after 30 minutes of time.  I collected examples of how my siblings mattered more to my parents and used these examples as proof that my assumptions were correct.  How my brother got to have "adventures" with dad;  how my parents had vastly different reactions to my and my older sisters performance in school,  etc, etc, etc.

The thing is, there are no shortage of examples to prove a point, especially when you are specifically looking for them.  I was looking for ways to prove that I was not as loved and guess what?  I found them.  I could have just as easily looked for examples of how I was loved, which there were many, but that was not what I chose to do.

I could have wallowed and spent my life focusing on what I perceived as unfair, but I didn't.   I worked and worked and worked-  on improving my abilities and my knowledge.    I reflected on what went well and what I could have done differently and I adapted......I grew and  I matured.


What if my parents had not told me they were expecting me to be a boy?

What if I had not interpreted their simple statement the way I did or as I grew older I had asked them if my interpretation was correct?

Would I be who I am today???

I don't know.

All I can do is pay homage to my past and move forward knowing that I am enough,  that I have the skills I need and I will thrive no matter what.

Thanks Mom and Dad for your unintended slip of the tongue!  It brought a whole bunch of interesting life lessons my way and helped develop some kick ass foundational skills.  

Sugar and Spice and Everything Not So Nice

I don't know why this random memory popped into my head while walking the dogs tonight but it did and it is too good not to share.  It may paint me in an unfavourable light but please keep in mind that it was over 20 years ago and I hope I have matured slightly since then.

To pay for University I secured a summer job at the local institution working nights.  The main job duties on night shift were to make sure the residents were clean, comfortable, accounted for and kept alive.  One night to my dismay I fulfilled all but one of those duties.   I was working with a woman who was heavily pregnant with triplets.  We were doing our scheduled bed check/resident repositioning when I found one of the residents with a mottled blue and red face.  I checked for a pulse as I was taught in swimming class.  I was sure I felt one but could not be 100% sure that it was his pulse and not mine.  Heart was hammering in my chest and I had a strong urge to run..... run fast.  My co-worker went to call the nurse on call and I started CPR.  I still remember the sound his chest made as the air entered his lungs.  It made the hair stand-up on the back of my neck and on my arms.  My stomach decided to join the parade, flipping and a flopping.   I started gaging in time to the rhythm my stomach was churning out.  I did chest compressions while trying to talk my supper into staying in my belly.

It is hard to breathe out and keep vomit in.  I would not recommend it to anyone.  It felt like an eternity until the night nurse arrived and helped me transport the resident up to the Hospital wing.  I remember the first question that the Doctor asked-  " What time did I find him".  By this point I was hysterical and did not have the ability to tamper down my sarcasm.... "What time was it?????"  "I'm sorry but my first thought was not to find a clock it was to try and save this person's life!!!!!"  Then I broke down into the ugliest of ugly crying.  If they wanted to get any information from me, they soon realized that would not be possible.  I leaned into the wall and slid to the floor.  Everything was tears and snot and guttural sounds mixed with moans that were interspersed with hyperventilation.  At some point I was sent back to the ward to finish my shift after which I went home to cry and wash the stench of death off of my body.  I don't recall sleeping much that day.  That night I returned to ward where it happened.  It hurt to walk in the room and see the empty bed.  The What if game had started in my head the night before I could not turn it off.  What if we had started at Resident X's  end of the hall for our checks... could we have saved him?   What if I did not do CPR correctly?  What if.... what if.... what if???????

That night I was working with Barry.  Barry registered high on the heebee geebee factor and was a self-proclaimed ball-buster.  He had heard about what had happened and delighted in tormenting me all night long.  When the PA system would crackle he would say "Max it is Resident X calling you from the grave.... he is saying "Why couldn't you save me? Why did you let me die".  He put the fear of biological contamination in me..... "What?  You didn't use barrier protection?  Do you know what type of diseases you could have exposed yourself to?  I bet you now have Hepatitis or Aids or God knows what.  I'd go get tested if I was you."  He did not stop there.  He relished in telling me about a summer relief worker who had had a resident die on their shift.  A coroner's inquest was done and they found the summer student negligent.  That student was expelled from University, was eventually found guilty of criminal negligence and was sent to jail.  Once they were released from prison they could find a job because of their record.

It was a long painful two nights working with Barry.  Crushed by guilt that I could not save Resident X.  Worried about my health.  Scared I might never have a career.   Worried I would go to jail.  Let's not forget that I could not sleep.  Every time I closed my eyes I would see Resident X's face and hear the rattle in his chest.

On the fourth night I worked with Lorrie,  who was a fun loving no nonsense type of woman.  She made it her mission to cheer me up and when we were putting away laundry she donned one of the new rain capes that had arrived on the ward.  She danced around all that while saying "Barry,  I am Resident X's ghost and I have come to claim your soul..... Boo!"  I burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all.  Then I followed suit donning the white rain cape with little planes on it and tried out a ghost impression of my own.  The giggles had hit and we could not stop laughing while we put away the rest of the laundry.  That was what I needed and it was the night the seed of revenge was planted.  I spent my free time that shift working out a plan of attack.  I knew that in a few days I would be working with Barry again.  I also knew Barry liked to go for walks on his break and when he came back from those walks he liked to have a constitutional.  By the time I finished my shift I had a solid revenge plan and I felt infinitely lighter and carefree.

The next shift I worked with Barry I made sure to wear all black.  Black was needed to make my arms and legs fade into the murky grey of the night lit hall.  When Barry left for his walk I quickly did my rounds, took off my shoes (to minimize noise) donned the white cape with the little airplanes and hid in the room closest to the washroom.  Barry came back to the ward and started walking down the hall to the washroom.  I slipped in behind him as he passed by and followed less than two steps behind him.   He put his keys in the door lock and that is when I jingled my keys behind him close to his ear. He paused ,he felt his belt for his keys and I jingled mine again.  He slowly turned around saw the white flash of the cape, I let out a ghoulish "oooooohhhhhhh" he jumped and started running on the spot.

I burst out laughing.  I am sure he wanted to punch me but the call of nature that forced him to cut his walk short was even stronger now that his Adrenalin was flowing.  He scurried into the washroom and I went to check on the residents.

This second part, was not part of the plan but I capitalized on the opportunity.  Barry must have got it into his head that I was going to hide and try and scare him again.  He came out of the washroom and started his long walk down to the nursing station.  At each door he would stop and slowly look to the right and then the left while saying "Where are you hiiiiiiiiding?????  I'mmmmmmmm goinnnnnng to find youuuuuuuuu!"  I walked up the hall behind him amused by his antics.  By this time I had my shoes back on and wasn't even trying to be quiet.  It was after the third door that I responded to his now patent call...... "I'm right behind youuuuuuuu!"  He jumped and turned around.  The colour had drained from his face and quite frankly my night was made.

I could have left it there but somehow our business together did not feel resolved.  I got my taste of revenge and the power rush of holding someone's emotions in the palm of my hand and I double dog loved that feeling.  I wanted more.

Phase 2 was born

I figured Barry would be expecting me to pull another prank soon.  I could have... but where would the fun be in that.  I let him stew.  He was nervous and on edge but I did nothing.  I waited for him to feel safe again and then unleashed the grandest of grand pranks that would live on in infamy at the institution.

While I patiently waited  I let Barry have his little fun with his ghost stories and comments about Resident X.  I just smiled and plotted and plotted and plotted.

For Phase 2 I enlisted the help of one of my best friends, Moojio,  who was working in the same building and Lorrie.  Together we checked the schedules and waited until the rotation that had us all working on the correct wards.  I was working with Lorrie and Moojio was working on the ward above us.  Barry was working on the Ward at the far end of the building.  From the recon I had  conducted over the previous months I knew the route Barry consistently walked when working on the ward he was on.  Moojio called down to Barry's ward at break time to ask a question like "Hey do you guys have any extra soaker pads?".   Really she was scoping out which break Barry was taking.  She called me with the information and I got ready.  I don an all black camouflage over my work clothes, put on the balaclava and gloves that I borrowed from one of the residents locker.  I headed out the door with the stuffed badger pelt,  I had brought from home and some fishing line.  I tied the fishing line to the pelt and placed it so that it would be close to the path Barry would be taking.  I retreated into the undergrowth of the shrubbery at the front of the building and waited.  Lorrie and Moojio watched from the windows of the wards they were working on.  According to them Barry walked up to the pelt.  He stopped, put his hands on his hips and looked at pelt with a puzzled expression.  Assuming it was nothing he started walking away.    His ankle hit the fishing line as I pulled it.   This caused the pelt to scurry on the ground toward him.  The ladies said when that happened he started running fast in the opposite direction.  A few 100 yards later he stopped and started yelling-  "I know it is you!  I'm going to find you and make you pay!"   I will admit I feared a little for my safety at that point.  Barry continued on his walk around the building.  I waited a few seconds, sprinted to and picked up the pelt and then started the mad dash to the ward.   I had to get to the ward and get rid of the "evidence" in case he headed there first.  Moojio met me in the stairway to take my camouflage  and the pelt and headed back to her ward.  I took a few deep breathes to steady my nerves and prepared for the inquisition.  It did not take long for the phone to ring.  Barry grilled me.  I played it nonchalant and surprised.  Lorrie acted as my alibi.  A few questions in I could hear Barry loosing his conviction, wavering in his original certainty it was me.  He asked around and by this time more permanent staff were in on it and backed my version.  The next night I followed up with a call to Barry's ward saying how scared and paranoid I was walking to work that night..... what with a wayward prankster on the loose.  That did it.  Barry now was on high alert.  Later that night he came to coffee-  he was flushed, out of breath and soaking from the waist down.   He had been on his nightly walk around the grounds and came upon a person in a trench coat walking the grounds as well.  That struck Barry as odd.  Could this be the prankster?  He gave chase to the trenched figure and chased them out into the culverts on the edge of the property.  He lost them in the weeds.   We all sat there stunned and tried to figure out who the trenched figure could be.  No one let Barry know that he was chasing the wrong person.  It seems everyone was tired of Barry's years of pranking and they all felt this was the Waterloo that would cure him of his need to "gotcha", which it did.  

A few years later working in another building at the institution some of the staff were talking about weird things that happen when working nights.   One of the supervisors told a tale about a time she as walking between the cottages and she was chased by a random person who she thought was a trespasser or an escaped resident from a locked ward.  She ran to one of the cottages for safety.   I had found the mysterious trenched person.   I apologized for my part in her duress.  Everyone around the table sounded in chorus..... "You were the one with the pelt?  People still talk about that prank."

That's me!   Have a pelt and will prank if pushed, so consider yourself forewarned.  

Bald head Adventures with Ferg and a Tag Along Grandpa

It has been quite a year so far.  Camping plans to go Pukaskwa National Park and Lake Superior Park in June were cancelled, so that I could meet deadlines at work.  My weekend trip to Sleeping Giant Provincial Park was cut short, as I could not hack the hoards of mosquitoes.

Side note:  I have not encountered mosquito clouds like that since the late '90's in Manitoba.  The sky was filled with dark clouds of mosquito swarms.  The dogs went from their golden colour to black.  The only way to escape was to run and even then the swarm kept pace just waiting for you to slow down.  I escaped to the cab of the truck, frequently during the few hours that I was there, just so that I could have some peace and quiet.  The collective buzzing was ear splitting and highly distracting.

By the time the end of July rolled around I was ready for some mono et mono time with nature.  My original plan was to hike the Lake Superior Coastal trail from Gargantuan to Katherine's Cove... a multi-day adventure.  This plan ended up a pipe dream.  I had an unexpected work commitment that I could not get out of which meant I would not have enough time to complete the hike as planned.  I toyed with scrapping the trip altogether.

NAY!

I needed a break from the world and more particularly from people.  There is no better place to do that than the back country of Lake Superior.   This trip was going to happen.  It would just be different from what I originally planned.

I loaded Gimli (the older dog) into the truck and to took him to the "doggie spa" and went home to finish packing, so that Ferg and I could hit the road early the next morning.  

The first dilemma I faced was the realization Ferg requires a lot of food.... more food than I do.  I started packing "Turtle" (the name of my pack when I am happy with it) and soon realized that I would not have room for the essentials.... the litre of adult beverage I planned on taking.

What to do... what to do?

What could be sacrificed for the bottle?   I considered leaving the first aid kit at home, but considering every back-packing trip I have taken it has been needed by the dog or myself, I quickly concluded the first aid kit was in.  In the end I eliminated one towel (the dog and I would need to share) and my polar fleece pyjama bottoms.... a small price to pay for liquid libations.  I also made the executive decision the dog would need to wear a pack as well..... poor him.  

I spent the rest of the evening looking for my Katadyn water bottle.     I looked everywhere that night and again in the morning but it was no where to be found.  No biggie.  I would just have to rely on the water pump to filter my water.  

Unfortunately the water bottle was not the only thing missing.  As we were leaving I could not find a leash to save my life.  With two dogs in the house I have at least 4 leashes, but all seemed to be missing when I went to leave.  It was too early to purchase one at the store.   Time to improvise.   I found an alternative option when digging around in the basement... a horse lead.  My Dad gifted me with this lead 15 years earlier, even though I don't have a horse, he thought it might be useful.    I took it to be polite.  Well joke was on me..... Dad was right, it did come in handy.

My excitement mounted with every km that passed on the drive to the Park.  I really did not know how much I needed this trip until I was on the road.  I felt energized and three feet taller... factors that are indicative of the start of an epic road trip.  I paid my fees at the Agawa office where I was told to "Have your permit on you at all times... well not when you are swimming... but have it near."  I nodded and pushed it into my pocket.  Back in the truck- headed to the Orphan Lake parking lot.

It wasn't until we reached the parking lot that I started to get nervous about the hike portion of our adventure.  See Ferg can be exuberant on the leash.  My left ring finger can attest to his vim and vigor.  5 months ago he took off at warp speed to say hello to another dog.  The result was a severely sprained finger for me... a finger that is still not fully healed.    I have gotten used to his impromptu pulling during daily walks and for the most part I can stop or redirect him by shifting my weight or hold on the leash.  I feared  having a large cumbersome pack strapped to my back would interfere with my ability to control him and would set off a chain reaction that would leave me hauling out the first aid kit.   As it turns out there was no need to worry.  All those training lessons at Pet Smart paid off.  On the extremely rocky sections I told Ferg to wait, I would walk down to the next landing and then call him to me.  Guess what?  He listened.... Woot Woot!

I took pity on Ferg and carried his pack the last 1.5km of the trip, so that he could frolic in the water.  After walking 3 km on a hot day, loaded down by the weight of his food, the cold water must have been refreshing.  Ferg would swim, run across the cobbles to me as if to say "You don't know what you are missing!!!!!" and then run back to jump in again.  When we turned the corner to head up the trail he substituted Superior with the Baldhead River.  Steep banks down to the water..... NO PROBLEM!  Nothing would deter him from enjoying the water.

We arrived at the camping area to find we were the only ones around.... I did a subdued happy dance, as I was still wearing the pack and it is hard to dance with a pack on.

It did not take long for Ferg to substitute his love for water for his love of dirt.  Exactly 30 seconds after arriving at the spot we would call home for three days he looked like this....

Cinder dog!

Arggh... dirt

He was not happy being the only one who was dirty and managed to cover my face, hands,  legs and shirt with a combination of dirt, twigs and soot.  So much for trying to stay presentable.  I spent the rest of the weekend looking like Pig Pen from the Peanuts comic.


It didn't take long to set up camp.   Even the tarp went up faster then I thought it would.  All that was left was to bear hang the food.  There is a perfect tree to hang food from on the other side of the point.  I headed over that way with my rope and lucky rock ready to have the food hung in one or two tries.  The only problem was I switched the hanging rope with a lighter weight version, trying to reduce the pack weight.  On the first try the rock went up, up, up in the air..... all the rope followed.  Now the rope and rock were hanging 11 feet in the air from the wrong branch of the tree.

Lovely.

 It was too high to reach.  I had a slight moment of panic followed by the voice of reason... "Go get your hiking pole."  I extend the pole as far as it would go, stretched my arm up as high as I could and tried to catch the rope on the end of the pole.  No use it was short by an 1" or 2.  I tried again, this time on my tippy toes.  I successfully hooked and pulled down  the rock and rope.  It took three more tries but I got the rope over the right branch and the food hung.

Home Sweet Home

My bliss at having the camping area to ourselves was short lived.  About two hours after arriving, a group of 10 kayakers came in and set up camp at the largest site.  An hour after that a family of 6 set-up camp in the site next to ours.   Last year the privy for the camp site the family was staying on was eliminated which meant the family had to use my privy or hold all bodily functions for the weekend.

7 people... one privy... no doors or occupied signs.  Made for some interesting times.  Definitely no lingering at the privy this year.

The addition neighbours also meant Ferg could no longer be off leash, as he was in jumping mode and kept launching himself at the parents and small children.  Good thing he had some time to burn off energy prior to their arrival or he might have flattened one of them.

When Ferg was not swimming, rolling in something, investigating smells or leaving a pee-mail trail he partook in his favourite past-time.... napping.  He napped and napped and napped.....
































As you can see, I sometimes joined him.  There is nothing more delightful than a little nap in the middle of the day, lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves crashing on the shore and the birds gentling tweeting in the distance.










When I wasn't napping, I kept myself occupied with reading and meditation.  I finished my first book- "The Ocean at the End of the Lane" by Neil Gaiman the first day.

I was slightly nervous that I did not pack enough reading material, but took comfort in the fact I still had the Louis L'Amour my Dad gave me, up in the truck.   Worst case scenario I would hike 8km drop off the finished books and bring Louis down to the site.

The next day I started "The Gathering" by Anne Enright.  That is when I found it.....  a picture of my Grandpa Max tucked between the pages acting like a bookmark.  I had used the book to smuggle some photo's out of my parent's house when I was home in July.  I had emptied my treasures out of the book before packing it but I obviously forgot one.  The picture brought a smile and a slight welling of tears.

It seemed fitting to share this excursion with Grandpa.   He loved the outdoors... what farmer doesn't.  Had we taken a trip like this when he was alive he would have insisted on getting to the camp site differently.   Grandpa Max  was an energy conservationist.  He felt there was no need to exert more physical effort then you needed to in any situation.  Why walk when you could ride a horse.  Why carry a pack when horses are designed to do that for you.  Save your energy for things that require it.

I chuckled when it dawned on me that in essence I was his Sherpa and pack-mule for this trip..... even in death he found a way to save energy.  I found myself drawn to that picture over and over throughout the weekend.  I could not get enough of looking at him as I remembered him from childhood.  Relaxed, confident and powerful.  Ahhh the power of pictures and the memories they elicit.   It ended up being a happy mistake.

The Grotto

This was the first year that I brought along some meditation tracks on the iPod.  I figured the serenity of the location would help me recharge and help prepare me for mediation.    There is nothing like communing with nature to help remind you to live in the moment.     I found a spot that I that was perfect for meditation.  It was secluded and picturesque.

Over the course of three days I spent countless hours in "my" spot.   The tree coverage provided the perfect escape from the heat of the afternoon sun and shielded Ferg and I from the view of the day hikers and other campers in the vicinity, but still allowed a spectacular view of the Baldhead Hill.    I took to calling this spot the Grotto.

View from the Grotto.... bliss.

Ferg took advantage of the seclusion of the Grotto to scare the living day lights of out unsuspecting people who walked by.  He would barge out of the bush to say hello or bark menacingly from behind the tree coverage..... Ferg does not like his meditation interrupted!    These events were usually followed by a gasp, as people thought it might be a bear and a sigh when they realized it wasn't.    I must admit I chuckled.... come on it is hard not to!

Good morning my pretty's....  Come out and play!

I mentioned earlier that the mosquitoes drove me out of Sleeping Giant.  Well the Baldhead was not without these pesky critters but luckily they were not abundant.  A little spritz of fly dope in the morning and they gave us a wide berth.  It still did not stop them from greeting us in the morning.

EEEKS.... It's Cold!

Ferg started every morning with a dip.  He often took his time to acclimatize to the frigid Lake Superior water.   After the first dip he would swim for 10-15 minutes before returning to shore to shower me with cold water.  There is nothing quite as invigorating as being pelted by freezing cold water in the early hours of the morning.  It would have been alright if he stopped there... but no... that would be underachieving.  Ferg has gusto and is creative.  He followed the showers with plunking down in my lap to maximize the damage.  One day he even managed to slap me in the face with his sopping wet tail.

DELIGHTFUL!!!!!

Who needs a shower when you have a Ferg!

When Gimli used to backpack with me, I told people he had a website-  www.getpeoplewet.com, as he would shake and send a little shower of water droplets everywhere.  Well Ferg has grandeur ambitions.  When he shakes it is like  whale breaching the water.  Buckets of water fly off of his fur and through the air.  If he had a website www.wettothe bone.com would be its' name.

The one benefit of the soaking was it tested the performance of my quick dry clothing.   Thumbs up to McKinley pants and my Outdoor Research tops.  If I had been in cotton, I would have spent the day in my underwear waiting for my clothes to dry.  With quick dry within a hour I was just slightly dampish.  By two hours I was totally dry.   The Bonus... I got to keep my clothes on the entire time.

Really.... just chocolate!!!!

Sunday brought a visit from the friends I usually do this trip with.  This year they decided to forgo "Orphan Lake" as a camping experience but the allure of this place was too strong and they came for a day trip.  They brought chocolate; which is the "rental" fee for using my camp site for the day.  Ferg begrudgingly "guarded" the chocolate from the chippies. Next year he wants me to include dog friendly treats in the rental agreement.

The water level is high this year and covers most of the beach on the side that has the best rocks.  This meant Sharon, Levi and I could not play "Plinko", a game that Sharon and Levi invented many summers ago.  Plinko involves throwing small rocks at bigger rocks to see how many rocks you can bounce the small rock off of before it plops in the water.  If you are inspired to play Plinko I must warn you to be wary of the wayward Plink.... that random rock that comes hurtling back at you.... usually your head.

Plinko is a game of skill and athleticism-  play it only if you can dodge a wrench or a ball!!!!!

The Abracasharon... Harry Potter has nothing on her.  

Plinko-Less,  Sharon decided it was opportune time to unveil one of her hidden talents...... magic!

As you can see she is totally rocking the Magic here..... levitating sticks.  All of us oohed and ached.... even the kids from the next campsite had to come over  to witness her awesome talent.

It was fitting that she unveiled her talents at this spot , as it was at Orphan Lake 10 years ago that Sharon and Levi introduced me to the wizarding world of Harry Potter.  I have been a fan ever since.

The windy side

For the rest of the trip, Ferg and I spent our time moving from one side of the point to the other.  One side is windier- refreshing on those hot, hot days.  The other side offers warmth and access to Day-Hiker TV.  Day- Hiker TV is the penultimate interactive Reality TV show.  You sit comfortably on the rocks and watch the antics of day hikers who are coming to enjoy the views and deliciousness of Lake Superior.  

Who could not be entertain by hikers screaming and shrieking when they venture into the water-  "Ohhhhhh Jesus!  That's cold!!!!!!".

The hiker side

The interactive part happens when the hikers miss the turn off to the main trail and walk along the spit aimlessly.  They usually holler- "How do we get back to the trail?" You get to yell back directions and when that fails you get to use pantomime and gestures to point out where they missed the turn.  

Who Goes There!

Ferg made sure our site was well protected from the day-hikers.  Any hiker that was silly enough to trespass was treated to licks and love... so much so that it drove them away.  Bye Felicia!

When he was not busy guarding, Ferg entertained himself by rolling in the grass and basking in the sun.  I think he could easily get used to living in the bush.

That's the spot!

Red Green Spesh

This years trip was marred slightly by a little surprise.  As I was pumping water the first night I noticed the pump was not completely filling.  Not a problem,  the cartridge just needed a little cleaning and then it would work.  Well the cartridge was really stuck in the shell.  I tried to push it out, but it did not budge.  I pushed harder and it moved.  PROBLEM... It moved too fast, fell out and crashed on the rocks before I could catch it.  The cartridge was cracked in many locations.  I tried it and it pumped fast... but I questioned if it was filtering anything.

I had a full evening to hum and ha about my options.  I cursed that I could not find my Katadyn bottle before I left.  Had I had it, I could use it to filter the water.

Options....

I had Gorilla tape and Crazy Glue both could be used to seal the cracks.  The only thing that worried me was the leaching of chemicals into the water.  I did make attempts to "fix" the filter but in the end decided to boil water instead.  That meant no trip to Beatty Cove as it takes forever for water to cool down after you boil it.  Ohh well!  Not about to complain about another opportunity to make like a Sloth!

With water at a premium,  I HAD to resort to drinking my adult beverage.  I know right!!!!  So hard done by.  I particularly liked this pairing.  A little sugary but yum, yum, yumm!!!!

Desert!

This year something exciting happened.  Ferg and I had a visit from the Park Warden.  We were chilling in the tent, reading, when I noticed this man on our site in official looking attire.  It seems he was checking permits (this is the first time in 10 years that I have had a permit checked).  Now I had the permit, but it was in the pocket of my other pants in the bottom of the sleeping bag the dog was lying on.  It took a little bit of effort to get it out and to hold the dog back from the Warden.  The silly Warden said I could let Ferg loose.  I think he regretted this decision.  As soon as I took my hand off his collar Ferg launched at him jumping and rubbing against his nice black pants.  By the time Ferg was finished the Warden's jet black pants were a pretty shade of Golden.  I tried not to laugh.... it was hard.

The Warden was a through man and even inspected my tent.   He noted I had two thermarests and questioned where the other person was.  I sheepishly admitted that I schlepped down a thermarest for the dog.  Yes I am one of THOSE pet owners.  As it turns out so is the Warden, so I felt less embarrassed.

The Warden left and I could not hold back my laughter when I heard his peer comment on the state of his pants, post Ferg love-  "What happened to you????  Your pants????"

Speaking of thermarests I question why I brought one for the dog.  After the first night he decided the thermarest was not comfortable enough.  Nay!  The Prince felt that lying on a person lying a thermarest was way more to his liking.  Luckily I am restless, that dissuaded him from claiming me as his sleeping surface for the full trip.

It is a well know fact that I tend to retire early for the evening. Every year I try to stay up for the sun-set but get chilled or the call of my bed is stronger than my desire to see a sunset.  The first night I tried and this is as close as I got.

8:00 pm sun

The next night I did not even attempt to stay up.  I was tired and so was the dog.  We were in the tent by 7:30pm, him cuddled in a corner and me happy, happy, happy snuggled in my sleeping bag reading.   The final night was the winner.  I waited and waited and waited and was rewarded for my patience.

Success!

This moment was all the more poignant as we were the only ones around.  All the other sites were empty.  This show was for Ferg and I and no one else.  It left me with a desire to extend the trip by one more day.  We had enough food.  The only consideration was I had told everyone that I would be home on Tuesday and I did not want to make anyone panic.  We headed to bed knowing this was the end to our bliss in the bush.

Sleeping Beauty

The next morning I could not wake Ferg up.  He was exhausted and had morphed into a grumpy teenager.  I packed up the tent waiting for him to rise.

Nothing.

I had to steal the blanket and thermarest from under him.  He continued to snooze.

Eventually I got him out of the tent but he refused to leave the front entrance.  He refused to eat.  He refused to move.

I thought I might have to carry out Sir Grumpy.  Luckily his morning swim woke him up.  After that he was ready for action.  Thank-you cold waters of Superior!

We were packed and ready to head home from Fort Awesome.... no Fort Epic.... forget that Fort Awesome X2.

I couldn't agree more with this sign I found in the bush!

I had heard some other through hikers commenting the day before that it would take them an hour and a half to get back to the parking lot.  I had a goal-  make it out in that time or less.

Now is a good time to fill you in on a little detail. The Orphan Lake trail is 4 km down followed by 4 km straight up.  There are so many never ending hills that my brain refuses to acknowledge them all.   In my mind there are only two steep uphills.  Every time I am surprised by all the "extra" ups..... "Where the hell did these come from?????".  

The up hills leave your legs and lungs burning while the river of sweat rolls down your face and into every nook and cranny of your body.  I wanted to stop and suck wind, but I had a goal and I had to meet it.  I hiked and hiked and hiked.  I did a little "Woot, Woot" shimmy when we reached the turn off for the parking lot.  So close.

We continued hiking and that is when I heard some heavy tromping and rustling of the bush.  It was coming straight at us.  I initially thought someone was lost, then it started dawning on me... that was tromping and the bush was too dense for someone to be in it.  I called Ferg to me.  The tromping and rustling was getting louder.    I had a whistle and an air horn... did I use them.... nope.  Didn't even occur to me.  What did I do????

Why I break out into song....... "Who's the best dog in the whole wide world.... That's Fergus, That's Fergus."  I sang at the top of my lungs... it was pitchy and a little screechy in parts.  It was effective,  whatever was headed in our direction high-tailed it out of there.   It did not appreciate my singing voice.

Even with this encounter and a stop to give a couple some direction we made it out in 1 hour 17 minutes.  Yeah us!

Celebration food

Ferg ended his trip by scaring more people.  I did not see the couple when we exited the forest, they were hanging out in the alcove to our left,  reading about bears.   Ferg peaked around the corner to see who was talking.  The lady screamed thinking he was one of those very bears she was reading about.   Ohh that Ferg!


On the way home, Ferg slept in the back seat while I spent my time fantasizing about my reward.  What was it going to be....... Stackburger???? Ice Cream????

Fried dill pickles ended up the winner and I enjoyed them and this delicious Harvey's burger.  Mmmmmmmm!

Until next year......  Take care Orphan Lake!  Ferg and I miss you and can't wait to grace your rocky shores again.