A Superior State of Mind

This blog is dedicated to my fan Anne.... sorry it has been a while since my last post.  

I have the evening off of teaching dance so I thought... why not write a little something.  Here I sit on my therapy ball, rocking out to Kings of Leon's- WALLS racking my brain to come up with a topic to write about.  The process is hindered by the fact that I am decisioned out, as I normally am by this time of the day.  All I really want to do is change into my super comfy lounge wear and curl up into a fetal position on the couch and not think; but I promised myself I would write tonight... so I write!  

Luckily the music is creatively inspiring and a topic popped into my head.....  How I Spent My Thanksgiving.

For the last three years I have avoided the traditional Thanksgiving in favour of communing with nature.  Partially because I love to commune, but mainly because the last Thanksgiving my parents were here was the bestest in all of history and I don't think any other attempt at a traditional Thanksgiving could top it.  Seriously there was Mom's stuffing, perogies, pies out the waazoo and there was even a Nerf gun war!!!!

Totally awesome to the extreme...... and sadly never to be repeated, as one of my parents had a stroke the following year and can no longer travel.

The year after the "new normal" began, I figured the way to avoid the melancholia that was threatening to over take one of my favourite holidays was to do something the polar opposite.  Gone was spending time with family and in was retreating to the bush to spend time being thankful for natural beauty, challenges and survival.  The first two Thanksgivings were spent in Killarney Provincial Park with a friend and her son.  Given we were backpacking there was no turkey, stuffing or any of the sides.  Our new traditional Thanksgiving meal became a Harvey's burger and fries.... don't ask me why by when I backpack I start craving meat... specifically burgers.  It consumes me and I am not happy until I have a burger in hand.

This year I opted for car camping at Lake Superior Park.  Now you would think that car camping would be exciting.... camping with the convenience of running water, the presence of amazing snacks, etc.  Sadly I found myself lost.  I have spent way to long packing and repacking my backpack so that I only leave with have the necessities, it has now become a way of life.  The addition of choices was throwing me for a loop and I was at risk of packing everything in the house including the kitchen sink.   With the goal to "not over pack"  I had to make some big decisions.... that in itself was a lengthy and challenging process as I really don't like thinking after a day of work.... UGGGHHH the thinking!  The only way I could convince myself to deal with my dilemma was to do a little each night.   In total it took me one week to pack for a short camping trip.... hand to forehead Duoh!

How did I end up making my choices??? Well the thing that was scaring me the most was the food decisions, so I opted to simplify that choice by going with backpacking food augmented with some tasty treats.  That juggernaut of a decision made, I was free to concentrate on decisions that focused on survival and entertainment.    The bulk of my indulgences centred around bedding, books, jackets and footwear... oh yeah and knitting... can't forget the knitting.

A few days before the trip I was close to backing out.  I had an emerging cold and the weather report was rain and lows of zero.   As the work week progressed and my stress increased I realized backing out of camping was not an option, even if exposure to the elements pushed my immune system over the edge and I came back with sinuses full of mucus.    I needed to retreat, to replenish and refocus.  Without the break I would not only have a cold.... I would also have a broken spirit.... which is far harder to recuperate from.

I left town on Friday afternoon in capris and flip flops.  As I drove North the temperature started plunging.... 20.. 18... 15.  It reached a low of 13 by the time I arrived at Agawa.   Then the rain started.  I drove up to my site and hung out with the dogs while I waited for a break in the rain.    After about 30 minutes the rain stopped and I started the process of putting up the tent.  The only problem was the wind.   It was so strong,  the tent kept blowing away.  I had to resort to staking and restaking the ground cover, tent and fly as I added each additional layer.  I can now add putting up a tent in gale force winds to my list of accomplishments in this life.

Now you are probably thinking how strong could this wind actually be?????   Let me see.  It made the tent rock even though it was fully staked.  It made the full sized half ton truck rock and I am pretty positive that if I had attempted to fall into the wind I wouldn't have face planted as the wind would have kept me aloft.

Exaggeration?????

I think NOT!!!  The wind whipped the tent fly so much it undid the zipper in the middle of the night... yes it was undoing zippers strong..... now that is a very, very, very strong wind. Luckily I had abandoned the tent for the safety of the truck by that time, but I digress.

Setting up the inside of the tent had to be done in fits and spurts as the rain kept making a reappearance and I did not want to risk getting my bedding wet.  I must admit by this time I was thinking to myself.... Why am I doing this????? Oh yeah sanity..... good cause.... I've got this!"

Yes, in the absence of people I talk to and answer myself!

Taken on day three.... the first non-windy day

Tent up and stocked  I made a hearty meal of Mr. Noodles with some added dehydrated veggies and cashews.   The hot liquid warmed me from the inside and I was toasty for a few minutes.  I whittled away some more time knitting and reading Harry Potter.   There is something hypnotic about knitting in a vehicle that is swaying to the rhythm of the wind, the windows fogged up with the heat of the occupants and the sound of the crashing waves echoing in your ears.  It made it easy to forget everything  and to concentrate on the sensations of the moment.  

To just be.  

Occasionally I would run the truck, more to defog the windows than for heat.  During those few minutes I would get to listen to the only radio station that I could pick-up.,,,, a religious station.  I learned a lot about the reoccurring numbers in the Bible and about Shabbat that weekend.... it was an inclusive religion station.

By evening the wind continued but the rain had disappeared.  It made for some dramatic lighting and picturesque sights with the 10 foot high waves crashing onto the shore.   The dogs and I went for a walk to explore the campground, as this was our first time there.   It was really nice.  While walking I kept scoping out camp sites that might not be as windy, should I ever come back.  I thought I had committed the site numbers to memory, I repeated them so much over the weekend, but two weeks later I can't remember one of them.  I am hoping  that should I ever go back, fate will be kind to me and I will serendipitously select an semi-sheltered site.

I started Friday night in the tent.  It was warm enough but after two hours of not so gentle rocking and being surrounded by ripping and roaring sounds.... I retreated to the truck.  The boys had the back seat and I the front.  It was around this time I mentally high-fived myself for purchasing a full sized truck and for being not mega tall.  I could almost stretch out fully when lying on my back which was a totally awesome surprise.  I originally started with my head by the steering wheel but after my flailing arm set off the horn, I decided it would be kinder to my neighbours if I switched ends.

I went through the process of reorienting myself in the truck but as soon as I laid down I knew I had a a problem.  My feet were higher than my head.  I was kicking myself for parking in a pit.

ARRRGHHH!

It did not take long for me to recall that I like to drive with the driver's seat the highest it can go.  That would be an easy fix.

Not so!

The task of moving from a hellter-skelter, downward facing tetter-totter position to sitting upright  would have been quite simple to perform in my teen years.  Now it was very daunting.... gravity is not the friend of the ageless.  After a few failed attempts at defeating the pillowy volumes of goose duvet and pre-winter padding I was finally sitting up.  Thank goodness for "O Shit Handles" and steering wheels or I would not be blogging, I would still be lying there in that head swelling recumbent position.  Seat lowered I was calmed by the knowledge that this simple change fixed my problem.  I  snuggled back under the mountain of duvet and jackets and drifted off to sleep.  

I claim this spot.....

It was an early day the next morning.  The dogs and I decided to take advantage of the break in the clouds to check out the other side of the campground... the side with the dog beach.  We made it as far as the path to the beach when Mother Nature halted our progress.... rain.... a down pour.

Our posse made it back to the tent by using a series of darts down the road and deeks under trees for cover when the rain started again.

We took shelter in the tent.  The dogs stretched out and sighed blissfully.  I frantically searched for dry socks.  Once dry I settled into the small space left to me by the dogs and knitted and knitted and knitted.    My back screamed, my legs lost feeling and I ignored it all.  All the mattered was that pattern and changing that yarn into something that could be used for warmth.  The minutes turned to hours and I sat there in a meditative state focusing on the only thing that was keeping me sane.... that afghan strip.  Bone numbing cold eventually broke my trance like state and forced me out of the tent in search of a hot beverage.

While sitting in the truck, sipping the nectar of the God's- Twinings Earl Grey tea, I turned-on the truck to warm myself.  The religion station had a program on that was talking about the ravages of storms, wind and the effect on the sole.  I looked out the window and laughed... surrounded by dark sky, rocked by the winds and bitterly cold.  I could relate to what they were talking about.  The tone of the program then took a turn.  It started talking about sun breaking through the darkness and storms passing.  Low and behold the sun broke through the clouds and bathed the site with a warm soft glow.  The wind died down.....   I was now invested in the next line of the show..... we were on to something.  It was a magical moment when words and nature coalesced and worked together.  The break in the weather could not have come at a more perfect moment.  My spirits were uplifted and I was ready to explore some more.

The boys and I headed north to explore a part of the Coastal Trail.   I was delighted by the moss and fungi that grew all over the area.  Gimli was also delighted by the fungi.  He likes to sample.... "Is it poisonous???"  He doesn't know, nor does he care..... he eats all that he finds, much to my chagrin.  Hence the reason why one of his nicknames is "Truffles".

The reprieve from the weather did not last long.  It was like Mother Nature was luring us out into the forest only to unleash her stores of rain once we were the furthest out we could be.  Huddling under trees did not work this time, as the rain had moments when it was coming in sideways.  My glasses fogged and the water droplets merged to form gigantic blur spots.  I would wipe my glasses only to have to repeat a few minutes later.

Actually on the Awausee trail but it fit nicely here

If there is one thing that I dislike it is getting wet.  I don't like the process of transitioning from dry to wet.  It irks me and chafes at me, but the funny thing is, once I am wet, it is like "Oh well!" and what was leading up to an epic melt down is gone and acceptance takes its place.  It is just one of my weird idiosyncrasies.

Once over my Grr Arrgh... I started seeing the beauty in how the sun would break through the rain and play with the lighting, the majesty of Superior waves crashing on the shore in a fast rhythmic progression,  the lone yellow bench bathed in light with a backdrop of rain.  These things mattered and made up for the fact that I was soaking and that it would not be long before I started to freeze again.

Thank goodness for dramatic lighting and for vehicle heating systems.  These are the things that become life lines and inspire a "you can do it" attitude when you want to pack it in.

As you have noticed there are no photo's of the large waves and dramatic lighting.  Sadly these moments are only mental snapshots in my brain.  I was not brave enough to risk the phone.  

Sunday brought a break in the weather and a calmness that felt a little unreal.  I could hear the transports driving by again and the sounds of the raven inviting me to come out end enjoy the day.  The boys finally made it to the dog beach and frolicked with some other Golden's while I looked for stones for my nephew's Christmas present.  The dogs made me chuckle with their antics.... running through the water, zipping down the beach and playing games of keep away with sticks.   Their coats glimmered a golden hue as the sun shone down on them.    LOVE!

Later that day we hiked the Awausee trail.  I have hiked this trail once before, so knew there was A LOT of uphill, but man I was not prepared for it.  The first .25 of a km wasn't bad but then I started to notice that my legs were starting to feel like Jello and I was sucking wind.... MEGA sucking wind.   I would stop to regain my breath and forged forward but the Jello feeling started to become a constant and then I noticed I was starting to loose my peripheral vision.  This has only happened a few times in my life and it often is followed by a temporary loss of vision.  Not something that you want to be experiencing on a trail..... but be damned if the trail was going to WIN!!!!

I persevered on and it was totally worth it.  Here was the view from the top.  Okay not quite the top as there was still more uphill after this... but this is the view from almost the top!

One of the Awausee look outs

The fall colours were slightly past their prime but it still made for some dramatic sights as the sun bounced off the leaves and illuminated the various shades of red, orange, rust and yellow.    The Boys' were having a hay day as they had a Golden buddy to hike with.    As you can see one of the Golden's is consistent in his photogenicness... my two are goomba's.... either close their eyes or look away at the last moment.  If I had a dime for every blurry picture of dogs on my phone I would be a rich woman.

Gimli, Hudson and Fergus... The Golden Trio

It definitely felt like there were more uphills than downhills on this trail.  In truth though I prefer the uphills as I am less likely to fall when walking uphill than downhill.  I had one minor tosser on Awausee when my foot decided it wanted to beat the rest of my body down the hill.... well played foot... well played!!!  

Look up and to the right... my raven friend

Sunday night delivered an invite to supper.  I of course said yes, as it is rare that I have a meal made for me let alone a gourmet meal and ice cream for desert.  My raven friend followed me to the camp site and hung out for about 5 minutes watching me, watching him.

I stayed for a camp fie after supper.  It was so toasty sitting around the fire, but it turned out to be a tactical error.  My core temperature dropped with every step I took away from the fire.  By the time I reached my campsite I was a solid block of ice.  I quickly changed into my three layers of sleepwear, donned two toques, mitts and wool socks.  I could not warm-up.  I dove into the -30 degree C sleeping bag and covered it with the down duvet followed by the -10 degree C sleeping bag.

No good!

FROZEN!!!!

Really... you are soooooo DRAMATIC!

I coaxed the dogs closer and fashioned a third toque out of my wool vest.  The shivering and teeth shattering would not subsist.  I became fixated on  the thought of freezing to death.   "I was going to die." and I just accepted it as a fact.

One minute I was thinking "Shit this is it!"  and the  next I am waking up to the croak of the raven.   It was morning, I hadn't froze to death.  In fact I had kicked off most of my coverings through the night.  

It's funny how the mind works.   When I went to bed I was lamenting that I wasn't at home where there was heat but I woke up thinking-  "I don't want to this weekend to end!"  How exactly does that work?

The raven returned the next morning.  He sat watching me as I packed up and followed us when I took the dogs to the beach to soak up our last minutes of bliss before heading home.

I sat in the sand and watched the dogs explore.  They found a 10 foot small tree and worked in tandem to pull it from the water-  Gimli on one end and Ferg on the other.  Once the tree was free their tune immediately changed from cooperativeness to possessiveness.  They both wanted the prized tree to themselves.  A tug-a-war ensued until Gimli lost interest and abandoned the tree to Ferg, as foraging for morning fungi took precedence over winning.

Ferg appeared not to enjoy his easy win as it did not take long for him to abandon the tree for a stump that was in the middle of the pond.  Ferg wanted that stump badly, but was freaked out by it.  He would wade into the water until he was close to stump, then he would quickly retreat to the shore and bark at the stump.  I could just picture his conversation with the stump..... "Just come over here.... I won't chew on you!"  As much as he wanted to get that stump, his fear of it would not let him get close enough to it attempt to pull it out.

OHHH Ferg!

It took supreme effort for me to pull myself up and head back to the camp site to say my final farewell.  My mind kept going over ways to extend the trip and/or come back the next weekend.  I did not want to say good-bye for the year.  Lake Superior is my touch stone, it helps me decompress, to appreciate what I have (good and bad) and to focus on the moment.  It is hard to say good-bye to something that you are so very thankful is in your life even if the parting is for a short while.

As the wind started picking up  I took that for a sign that it was time.  That my restoration was complete and I was strong enough to face what was coming my way.

We headed back to the campsite... the long way... lingering good-byes are something my family is known for.  Along the way my friend the raven came back and paced me all the way to the campsite.  What started out as a cute coincidence,  quickly turned into foreboding.  Was this a sign of something to come????  Was it a good sign or a bad sign?????

Needless to say I drove very carefully all the way home.  The dudes were oblivious to my state of angst.

Seriously how cute is that!!!

As it turns out the raven was a good omen.  I came back feeling thankful for the natural beauty I am surround by, for opportunities this life has offered me and for....

Thanksgiving dinner!

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.

Superior Adventures in Beast Mode.....

August long weekend marked the official start to my back-packing season.  The plan was to take two days to back-pack the portion of the Lake Superior Park Costal trail from Katherine's Cove to Orphan Lake.  10 km of rugged scenic trail.  The group would then convalesce at Orphan Lake for 4 days before returning to civilization.  That was the plan, until my friend decided the terrain for this section of trail might be too rugged for her to navigate with a 55- 60lbs pack strapped to her back.  She was out and so was her son.

And then there was one.

I was faced with a decision.... continue with the trip as planned or proceed with my friend and her son and go in at the Orphan Lake parking area.   I waffled in my resolve for only a second and then my decision was made.  Solo back-packing it would be.

I still intended to hike the 10 km's over two days, as originally planned.  See I had back-packed the first 2.5 km of this section with the dog and knew a little of what I would be in for.  Boulders, slippery rocks, etc.  Breaking the trip into two days would ensure that I was able to move by the time I made it to Orphan Lake.

Well I should have cc'd Mother Nature in on my plan.  On the day we headed up to start our adventure, the weather predictions had changed.  The promised six days of sun and minimal cloud coverage had been replaced by one day of sun and multiple days of rain and rain cloud mix.

Enter dilemma.....

See Lake Superior rocks can be slippery without rain... add rain and they become treacherous... a lesson I learnt last year when my foot slipped and I impaled my shin on a rock (yep, you could see the bone).

Now what do I do?

Hike the whole thing?

Stick with the original plan and hike 1/2 and 1/2, risking further rock encounters?

Hike as far as I could and then stay put until the rain let up and then hike the rest of the way?

So many things to think about on the 2.5 hour drive up.  By the time we pulled into the Katherine's Cove parking lot I still had not made up my mind which option I was going to go with.  I said good-bye to my friends and told them that if I was not there by Monday evening to go and get some help. I waved good-bye and started my trek down the sand beach.

Robertson's Cove 

An example of boulder beaches

I made it to Robertson's cove in less time then I predicted I would need.  I rested here for a while.  It was heavenly to have an excuse to take off the pack.  I longed to set-up camp there, the private sand beach makes this cove a little slice of paradise, but knowing that would make the next day a 7.5km hike in the rain I decided the safe option was to press on.

I wiggled and squirmed my way into the pack straps. Locked and loaded the journey continued....
next stop Coldwater Creek.  From the previous excursion to Robertson's Cove with the dog, I knew that the trail increased in ruggedness the further north you head.  What I did not anticipate was how poorly the trail was marked in some places.  At one point I looked up to see this smooth rock wall looming in front of me.  I commented under my breath-  "Surely to God I don't have to scale that!"  As I rounded the corner I saw the trail leading into the forest.

Whew!

This reaction was short lived.   The trail ended 2 feet in the forest.  There looked like there might be a trail that wound up the side of the rock wall.  I followed it until I reached a chest high rock face.

My lunch time view from the top of the Wall O' Rock

Was this the trail?  Did it go through the bush??????  Did I miss a turn?  This is around the time that "WTF!!!!!" became my go to statement.  I used it with reckless abandon for the rest of the journey.  No censorship required... there were no juvenile ears to here my dazzling combinations of swear and curse words.

This rock barrier provided me with an excuse to take my pack off (truth be known there was no way I could have climbed this section with my pack on.... there were no toe or hand holds, so it required a good ole' heave ho to climb it).   I was loathe to put the pack on,  my worry was I would hike on only to find out that I made a wrong turn at Albuquerque and I would need to back-track down the rock wall.

Solution:  Scouting pack free.   It took a few minutes but I eventually found a blaze that confirmed I was on the trail.  Since the pack was already off I decided this was the perfect spot to have my lunch.

Cairn's and Blue Blazes.... without which I would be lost.

 I prolonged lunch as long as I could but there was no escaping the inevitable.  I needed to put the pack back on.   Now if you have never put on a fully loaded back-pack my one piece of advice is pack placement pre-donning is very important.  It can make the donning process easy or  very, very difficult.  Sadly there was no "boost" area to place my pack and it was too heavy for me to do the one arm hook and toss.   I sat down on the rock and scooted my way back to the straps.  Arms in the straps I leaned forward, but I leaned too far and the weight of the pack tipped me over so that my forehead was touching the ground.  I shifted back to correct the weight distribution and was able to make it into a reasonably upright position and then came the hard part..... standing-up.   Noises came out of me that I had never heard before.  A new respect for Olympic weight-lifters blossomed in that moment.

If I wasn't before, I am now convinced Lake Superior has it out for me.  See I have a "small" obsession with rocks and Lake Superior rocks are absolutely fantastic.  I spend hours combing through piles of cobble beaches to find my "favourites".  Each year I en masse a big collection of rocks that have the potential to make it into my collection.  I then spend days agonizing over which specimen(s) I am willing to schlep out the 4km of uphill trail.   This has been my habit since starting back-packing 8 years ago.  I think Gitche Gumee has had enough of my thievery and has decided if I don't cease and desist it will take out its revenge on my shins and body.

What finally convinced me?

My wipe-out on dry rocks.  I can't say what caused it, all I know is one moment I was standing up the next my face was hurtling toward a rock.  I stuck my left hand out to save my face and the last two fingers on my left hand bent in a way they were never meant to bend.  I screamed..... "FUCK!" (Yup... I went there).  I was sure the fingers were going to break but luckily my shins hit the rocks and took some of the weight off my hand.  I am sure "FUCK" repeated incessantly while I assessed the damage to my hand and legs.   The fingers had gone numb but I could bend them..... not broken but potentially sprained.  The shins were scraped and bleeding, but no gaping holes, so that was a bonus.    There was no recourse but to stand-up and keep walking.

You would think that after that, my sunny disposition would have gone the way of the Doo Doo but nope... that would come later,  much later.

An example of what I could have landed on

I continued on my merry way and made sure that I took extra time crossing over the boulder beaches and areas where I needed to step from stone to stone.  Somewhere in this section of the trail the "foot path" on the rocks narrowed and became a small ledge that was about 5 feet above the water.  I knew  I had to navigate this section with care,  because one slip of the foot or a shift in the pack weight and I would drop down into the waves that were crashing in below me.   Luckily there were small crevices in the rock that I could hold onto while navigating this 30 foot section of trail.  I made it out the other side and continued on.

Tom Hanks in Castaway had "Wilson", I had my pack and my pack's name had finally revealed itself-  Dirty Rotten Bastard or Bastard for short.  Bastard had become an entity of its own.   I would go left it would pull me right.  The shift in weight to the sides, front or back threw- off my centre of gravity and made balance a dicey thing.  I regretted inviting Bastard to join me on this trip.  I felt my general outlook on life would be better if Bastard had remained at home.  But alas, Bastard was needed.  He housed all my essentials.  My love/hate relationship with Bastard would continue for the remainder of the journey.

By this time I was close to the half way mark.  I was getting excited-  then I saw the crevice.  That gaping

No crevice pics.  I was too busy praying.

hole in the rock.  I tried stepping over it- it was too wide.  I headed to the bush to look for a way around.  No go.  There were too many trees down and I could not get over or under them.  Back to the crevice.  I knew that I could jump it without Bastard on my back, but Bastard was to heavy to toss to the other side and I couldn't leave him.... as much as I wanted to.  The only solution that I could see was to jump.   I had reservations.  Could I even make the jump??????? I stood there pondering and then decided Fuck It.... I'm jumping.  Sure, there was at least a 12 foot drop from the top of the crevice to the rocks below,  but what the hell!  I figured best worst case scenario would be my bubble butt, child-bearing hips and pack would create a tri-fecta of perfection which would save me.  I would be wedged in the crevice, Winnie the Pooh style and would have to wait for help, but at least I would be alive.   Worst case scenario....... well no point in going there.  I lumbered up to the crevice at full lumbering speed and jumped.  I landed on the other side, the momentum drove me forward, nothing a few quick steps couldn't handle.

That obstacle down.  It couldn't get worse right?  RIGHT???????

Coldwater River-  This is the longest beach section of the trail.  You would think that by this point, after the rocky ledges and crevice jumping that I would be thrilled to have a long stretch of beach to walk on.  You would be wrong.

Instead, I had a very long "What do I hate more "list going in my head.... boulder beaches, sand beaches, cobble beaches, or any combination there off.  With each step I added another con to the growing list of cons for each and every type of beach I had encountered or knew was coming.  The end result-  I loathe walking on beaches.  Beaches + Bastard = feet burning, sand getting in your boots, extra effort to take steps..... all things that are the exact opposite of delightful.

It was beach walking or staying and given the close proximity of these sites to the Highway and possible encounters with dubious humans, I decided to keep walking.  Fear, such an excellent motivator.

The Voyageur map that I was referencing talked about a bridge that you can use to cross the Coldwater River.  I figured there would be a foot bridge further up the coast.  Nope.  The makers of this trail guide meant hikers had to walk-up to the highway and cross there.

NUTS!

I was in no mood to double back so I forged on.  I stood at the edge of the river, which by this time of year was more liked a large stream and contemplated my options.

• I could walk through the river.  This option had merit but the risk of a double soaker was high and not a popular option as I detest walking in wet boots.   
• I could change my mind and walk back to the bridge... boo, hiss!  
• I could try and levitate over the water
• ..... maybe build a bridge of my own using Lake Superior cobble?  

Although the subsequent options made me chuckle, they were not helpful.  If I didn't want to back track, I would have to suck it up and try and fjord the river.  Luckily I found a shallow section and was able to cross without water flooding into my boots.  A small celebration ensued.

The celebration was short lived.  I was tired and sore and regretting not staying at the Coldwater campsites.  That is when I looked up and saw the second section of rock wall climbing that I would have to do.  This section was shorter than the first and had only a 3 feet drop to the pounding surf but it lacked hand holds.  I threw my weight toward the rock, fearful that one twitch of Bastard would send me backward and lead to death by drowning.  Just imagine my surprise when I ran into a family out on the trail who took not only their toddler but a baby out over that section of the trail. Maybe that is why they were sitting there looking glum.... they knew they had to go back over it and were not looking forward to that circus.

Enter the Baldhead.  All these years of camping at Orphan Lake we have called the Baldhead-  Baldhead Mountain, as it looks rather mountainous from the other side of the river..... but according to the trail guide the proper name is Baldhead Hill.  Let me tell you, it does not feel like a hill when you are climbing it.  At one point I found a rock I could sit on to take off some of the pack weight.  I came dangerously close to falling asleep like this, not once but twice.  I made myself stand up and forge on.  The view from the top of "the hill" was worth the climb.

View from the top of the Baldhead

See, very steep

Making it down the other side of the Baldhead I had a choice stay at the campsite at the base or traverse the looming cobble beach...... cobble bitch is more like it.  What made my decision for me was the closest camp site involved a big hill and rock climbing to get water.

Water access.... sure to slip in.  

Tally ho!!!!!!

As soon as my feet hit the cobble I wanted to cry.   I forced
myself to walk 10 steps at a time until I reached 100.  I figured that meant I was 100 steps closer to ending this torture.  I was having a hard time controlling the vile thoughts in my head.  The preceding 9 km of walking had successfully unleashed my inner Cracken.  If I had encountered a bear at that moment I would have invited it for a throw-down. I was that mad..... that ornery!  I had entered Beast Mode!!!!!!!

Trying to distract my inner beast I started fantasizing about my friend and her son coming down the
beach and offering to carry Bastard back to the campsite.  That did not happen..... Beast was not happy.... Beast was very, very ANGRY!  This is about the time I caught up with the day hikers who were in front of me.  They were standing on the bridge that I needed to cross, blocking the whole thing.  Dad was giving his son a lesson in bridge building......

"See what they did here son is they put slats of wood side by side and they laminated them together.... let's see 1, 2, 3, 4......... 20!  20- 2X4's placed side by side, then they drilled a hole through them all and stuck in a lag screw.  And well see this lag screw........."

This is what I listened too, not so patiently, while I glared at them.  I could have asked them to move, but I didn't trust that nice words would come out of my mouth.   I was barely able to control my desire to  "Choke Slam" and pound the crap out of the lot of them.

Eventually my piercing stare caught Mr. Blah Blah Blah's attention and they moved.  Blah Blah was so apologetic, my Beast Mode was broken and I grunted out "Pack heavy, want to be done!", as way of explanation.  As I broke through the clearly and walked down my last stretch of cobble beach.... Fuck I hate cobble..... I sighed knowing that Bastard and I could file for a trial separation for the next 5 days.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

The view from my resting place.

Prologue-  I have a habit of not weighing my pack before hiking.  There are somethings that are better left unknown.  In this case my best estimate was the pack was 58 lbs.  Well I was sorely mistaken.  See I broke my cardinal rule and weighed my pack prior to my next back-packing trip.  It was 58lbs but way, way smaller.  The pack I carried into Superior was loaded to the top tier.  So in essence the pack was topping 60+ lbs.  I am glad I did not know that then..... 58 lbs seems like such a more manageable number.