The Full LaCloche- Promising Beginnings Followed by Stark Reality

The LaCloche Silhouette Trail in Killarney Provincial Park... to be referred to henceforth as the LaCloche!

I have hiked portions of this trail before-in both the East and West directions, but up until this point I had never contemplated hiking the full thing.     I remember the first time I saw this sign... so ominous and foreboding and definitely a warning that this trail is not for the faint of heart!

Photo Credit- S

A little history- My backpacking experience over the last 10 years has mainly consisted of hiking into a designated spot and then staying put for a few days.  Truly it is more like a Backcountry Spa experience than backpacking- complete with hot stone massages and opportunities to practice meditating in natural surroundings.... sounds great right?

It is!!!!!

In fact, there have been many occasions when I sat dry and snug under a tarp eating my pancakes and bacon and secretly laughed at thru-hikers- walking in the gloom of rain storms.   Who would want to do that????

Well apparently I do.....

Believe me... no one was shocked more than I was, when I decided on my last trip to the La Cloche that I wanted  to challenge myself and do a thru hike of this trail.   It took another year before I felt ready to commitment to this adventure.

I began my preparations for this hike in March 2018 by watching YouTube videos about the LaCloche trail while working out on the elliptical carrying "Wee Angus" my mid- size pack.  Once I exhausted all the LaCloche video's I moved on to other trails-  The Appalachian Trail; The Pacific Crest Trail; The Alps; The West Highland Way; The John Muir Trail, etc, etc.  How I looked forward to my nightly trips around the world.  Hands down the best 45 minutes to 1 hour of my day.

Side note:  If you choose to use this method of preparing, disappointment may occur on the trail, as you will not be able to finish the trail in 45 minutes to an hour.... there is way more walking, carrying way more weight... (insert sad emoji here).  Future disappointment aside- YouTube ended up being a useful tool, as the videos contained helpful information about the campsites, where the last water stops were for miles and about the terrain that I could expect to cover.

My good friend S decided she wanted to join me on the trip.  Our first obstacle was negotiating how long this trip was going to take.  I wanted to complete the trail in 8 days and she wanted to spread it over 10 days.  A compromise of 9 days on the trail was reached and for once we were able to book all the sites we wanted.  S and I felt like we had won the lotto as this hardly ever happens when booking campsites in Killarney's backcountry... be prepared to do some quick rejigging of your plans.  On my last trip I ran into a woman who couldn't get the site she wanted which meant she had to walk 22 km in one day to get to the next available site. 

S and I were feeling good about the trip.  Most days had manageable distances with the longest day being 12.6 km.  We spent the months leading up to the trip kinda freaking each other out.  I trained with the pack and S worried that I would be more in shape.  S started running and riding her bike longer and longer distances, I freaked out I was going to the be the weak link.  All summer long this non-competition/competition played out.  It stands to reason that all this pushing would result in the inevitable injury.  S was recovering from a frozen shoulder.  She was happy that the shoulder was starting to unfreeze when her other shoulder decided it did not want to be left out of the fun and it started down the path of freezing as well.   Me-  Well I ended up with plantar fascia pain and a recurrence of shin splints in my left leg. We were two weeks away from the trip and both of us were humming and hahing if our bodies would be up for the challenge.... me more than S.  S was game to give it a try.  I was a little harder to convince, but after some sessions with the AccuHealth my foot and shin pain were manageable and I decided pain or no pain I was in as well.

As it turns out, my leg and foot pain might have been a gentle warning that the La Cloche was not for me. But did I listen.... of course NOT!  The universe, fearing for my safety, tried to warn me in other ways.

Here was the fortune that I received in my fortune cookie three days before the trip.

I will admit my superstitious side was starting to freak out and lead to my purchase of both a splint and compass... both of which I have never felt the need to backpack with.  My spidey senses were alert and I decided I needed more cosmic wisdom and consulted  The Book of Answers on the matter.

Q:  Will the camping trip go okay?
A:  "Starling events may occur as a result!"

AHHHHHHH!

Definitely not the reassurance I was looking for before heading out on the trail.  What could happen?  When would it happen?  Would I come out of this alive???????

Day 1-  Stalkerazzi- Wilderness Style

On the drive to the Park, S and I decided that if we could, we would change our campsite for the first night to one further down the trail.  We wanted to lessen the distance we needed to travel on Day 2 as it was supposed to rain. 

  

We were second in line to check in.  Our jaws dropped as we listened to the three Dudes who were in front of us talking about their plans with the Park Ranger.  The Dudes planned on doing the full 78 km in two nights/three days...... How??? WHY!   Like I mean WHYYYYYYY! I thought I was pushing the envelope when I had suggested doing the trail in 8 days, as the literature recommends 7 as the minimum number of days to do the trail. 

"The Dudes" became a staple in our conversation. What would possess someone to do a 7-10 day trail in three days?  Did their camping permits get stamped high risk as indicated on the maps and trail information packages? How long were they going to walk each day?

S & I would talk about what we might encounter, about what was happening, but somehow the conversation would drift back to the Dudes.  This topic was usually introduced with a- Why?  That was all that was needed to know what would follow- the Dudes.   It would take us three more days to find the answers to our questions.

  

We were about 3 kms in on the trail when a familiar feeling over took my body.  Heat rose from my feet and started to overwhelm me.  Whooshing started to sound in my ears and my vision started to get spotty.  The urge to shuck my pack and lie down was strong.  If I didn't get it off and get down low I knew that it wouldn't be long before I lost my vision. 

I shimmed my arms out of the arm straps and let Atholl (my big pack) drop like a stone to the ground.  I wasn't far behind in planting my keester.  Then the focus was on my breathing..... in.... out..... in.... out.  Eventually my swimming vision wasn't so swimmy and I felt like I could redon Atholl and continue onward as long as we could stop and rest a little at Acid Lake.  Here was the view.

Acid Lake

We made it to our camp site in good time and H6 on Cave Lake was spectacular.  The ground was so soft and there was a lot of flat rocks to lie down on... and that was the first thing that I did once Atholl and I parted ways.  The next step was getting my sweaty boots and socks off.  There is nothing as delightful as shedding 60 lbs in a matter of seconds.  The only problem is it takes a bit to get used to the immediate weight loss.... enter the drunken staggering.... not drunk from alcohol but from freedom! 

Cave Lake- Initial views

In the backcountry- the doffing of the pack and boots is  quickly followed by setting up camp.  I grabbed a hold of the end of my tent and flicked my wrists to begin the unfurling. End over the end the tent unwound until it was lying flat.  As this was happening I could hear a rattling ring which baffled me.  What was that sound and where was is coming from?

It didn't take long to find out.  As the tent reach the end of the roll something small and round flung out the end and started rolling down the rocks.  I leaped up and ran after it, managing to catch it in some pine needles a few paces away.  As I opened my hand  I started chuckling.... the cat had booby trapped my tent.  He obviously heard my rant about only packing the essentials so he sent his prized possession with me.

Just what I didn't want, useless weight that I would have to  carry with me for 8 more days.  But the first rule of backpacking is packing out what you pack in so this dingle ball was going on an adventure of a life time.

Tents up, it was time to get the rope up in the tree for bear hanging the food.  This chore falls to me as it seems it is one of my super powers.  I credit my lucky rock from Lake Superior, but I suppose skill could also be involved.   S was amazed that I was able to get the line up in the tree on the first try..... she obviously forgot about the lucky rock and about my mad rock throwing skills!

All the chores completed... it was time to explore.  Cave Lake is called Cave Lake because it has a.... wait for it....  a cave!  Can you make it out on the distant shore? 

Can you spot the cave?

I loved this site and really could have stayed here for the full duration of the trip, except for two things-  a school of freaky translucent fish and one giant-ass cat fish.  The translucent fish were freaky.  They followed your every move.  I had to resort to tricking them to scoop water i.e. feint right and quickly dart to the left.

Luckily the cat fish did not show up until the next morning.  I don't trust cat fish as they have a look of pure evil about them... it has to be the whiskers.... why do fish need whiskers????... they don't!  It's just not natural I tell you!.   I feared for my foot and toes which hovered just above the water holding the line for the water pump in position.  What if the cat fish launched itself out of the water and nabbed my toe.

Don't laugh!  You saw my fortunes pre trip.... it could have totally happened and then I would be down one or two toes and have to limp the rest of the 70 km.  I jumped up at least twice retreating away from the edge of the water as far away from the evil fishies as I could get.  Once my heart rate returned to normal I would plop back down to resume pumping but it didn't take long for the little suckers to return and scare me away again.  Friggin' Fish! 



Don't let the calm surface fool you.... freaky fish dwell in that there water!

Day 2-  Slaughtering the Pig, Drowning In a Upright Position and  a Side of Bear Attack

We were prepared for a full day of rain.  That was the forecast going in and one of the reasons we decided to hike an extra 3kms on the first day.  The rain started at 5:00 am but by 7:00 am it had quit.  We quickly packed up camp and ate breakfast before hitting the trail.  We couldn't believe our luck.  There was no sun, but no rain.  S & I hoped our luck would hold out and we could make it to our next site before the rain hit.

There is an infamous hill on the LaCloche.... called the Pig.  It is the longest and highest portage for those that are canoeing.  For back packers it is a long and tedious cobble hill that keeps going and going and going.  At one point the Pig splits into a Y.  S & I were unclear which side we needed to travel on so S went right and I went left.  This of course remained me of a classic Scottish tune and it was a long time before I could get this song worm out of my head "So ye take the high road and I'll take the low road and I'll be in Scotland before ye!."

As enduring and motivating as Scottish ditties can be I had to resort to  psychological tricks to get up the rest of the hill.  Enter my fav trick-  just walk 10 steps.... because anyone can walk 10 steps!  Using this technique I can usually make it 100 steps before I need a break to catch my wind and psych myself up for another 100 steps.

That's how the Pig was slaughtered on Day 2....100 steps at a time.

Now once you get past the Pig there is a short cut that can be taken at the base of a dam.  It cuts about 3- 3.5 km off the trail.  Sadly S gets nervous with river crossing.  We discussed it on our break at the top of ridge after the Pig and decided that we would take the actual trail, so that we were not cutting short our LaCloche experience.

Let me tell you.... if you can..... TAKE THE SHORT CUT!

The section of the trail past the short cut is by no means technically challenging but it is the longest and boringest section of the trail.  My grump was growing exponentially with every footstep.  When would the torture end.  It didn't... it just kept going on and on.   There is no redeeming scenery or views.... nothing to end the monotony.  It is what it is-  a path.  Luckily the yellow campsite sign popped up before my grump spilled over and my caustic thoughts spilled out of my mouth.

We stopped at H8 for lunch.  We hadn't been grazing long before I spotted a deer... the first non-frog/snake sighting of the trip.  A short while later we were treated to the grunty squeally call of an animal that neither of us had heard before... whatever it was it was talky.

I was just starting to feel human again when the rain started.  At first it was a mist, then it started coming down harder.  It lifted for a few minutes but then returned.  Our luck had run out.

I covered Atholl with the pack cover and swung him into place and head back out into the wilderness.  We had walked about 20 minutes when the skies opened up and the real rain came down. It came down so hard I started longing for the gentle rain of minutes before.   It soaked through the remaining dry spots in my clothing.  It ran down my legs and filled my boots.  Within seconds I was a walking talking river of wetness!

What can you do when you are caught in a deluge with no hope of drying off any time soon.... well you do what the folks of yore did... laugh hysterically and keep on laughing.... as the only alternative is to cry and that just makes you wetter.

Before you start feeling sorry for me let me fill you in on a fun fact... rain has a plus side!  It saves you time as you don't need to stop to rehydrate, as all you need to do is lick your lips to replenish fluids.

It wasn't long before my glasses were so spotty it was like looking through a kaleidoscope.... pretty but hard to see safe places to step and to locate blazes on the trees.  We were about to start up a little hill when S stopped dead in her tracks and says what no hiker wants to hear- "Is that a bear?"  Blind me asks- "Where???..... WHERE????"  She points and I'm frantically trying to rub the droplets off my glasses but as soon as the drops are wiped off the rain replaces what I removed.  I couldn't tell.  It could be a bear.

When in doubt play is safe.  I start blasting the air horn, we start talking to the bear telling it to leave.  S looks and says-  "It didn't  work.  It just stood up!"  We start the process all over only this time we begged the bear to leave.    Three to four minutes of talking and honking and the bear was still there.  That's when S realized it was a stump .  A tricky stump that when you stood one way it looked like a bear on all fours and when you moved to the right it looked like it was standing up.

Whew!  Bear attack survived we continued down the trail.

100%- Whatever! 

I would love to say the rain let up but it didn't.  It fell and fell and fell. The rain tested the moxy of our 100% Waterproof pack covers.  Sadly the covers failed and our packs were as wet as we were.   There was a brief moment when it was slightly lighter rain and we used that time to quickly set-up our tents and pump water on H16. Then we retreated into our tents to begin the process of changing out of our soaking clothes into something dry. 

It was hard to keep the water out of the tent.  Thank goodness for plastic bags, towels and separate tents.  Each of us had a dry side in the tent and a wet side.  I wrung out my clothes, would wait a few minutes and wrung out more water.  It was horrible.  We didn't have time to hang the food, thinking that the rain would let up again and we could hang it then.  But the rain had a mind of it's own.  We add our lunch food for supper as the rain was too heavy to go out and use a stove to cook a meal.  At one point a brave chipmunk, looking for food and a dry spot to dine in, ducked under my fly and tried to steal my food bag.  Cheeky little bugger!

Realizing that the rain was going to keep on going, I finally donned my rain gear and went in search of a tree to hang the food from.  The lucky rock was not so lucky today, as the line was wet and kept getting hung up on the branches.  It took three times to finally get the line up on a branch.   Too boot it wasn't a perfect branch to hang food from as the bag ended up being about 6-7 feet from the ground....  but it was up and my dryish tent was waiting.  I huddled into my sleeping bag and prepared for sleep while listening to the weather report for the next day.  Great more possible rain.  Nuts!

Day 3-  Loonie Tunes a la Pepto

Day 3  started with the need to make an important decision.....  to wear my soaked clothing or my only remaining dry clothes????  I chanced it and went with fresh clothes.  As I was packing up I became aware that my stomach was doing flip flops and the thought of eating made me want to hurl.  Although happy that the incessant rain had lifted, every bone in my body screamed turn back.  It isn't worth it! There are way better ways to amuse yourself than to continue on!  Sadly S was rejuvenated.  Even our bear scare wasn't enough to dampen her spirit.  She was raring to get back out on the trail and convinced me that I would be fine.

Within an hour we had broken camp and were on the trail again.  The talk reverted back to "The Dudes" as this would be the day we would be passing each other on the trail. Both S and I hoped we wouldn't run into the Dudes too soon, as it would mean they were hiking faster than we were.

It was about an hour into hiking, I had my first fall.  I was walking down a rocky slope and my feet shot out to the right skidding at a right angle to the direction I was travelling.  I went down in a baseball slide and managed to walk away with no bruises or scraps.  Whoo hoo!

It wasn't long after that we ran into a woman who was hiking solo.  She had planned to hike the full trail but after the rain of the day before she decided it wasn't safe to be on the trail alone and she was heading back to the campground.  We wished her well and I secretly wished I was travelling back with her.  So long!!!! Farewell!!!!

We were about two campsites away from the turn off to H21 when "The Dude's" announced their presence.  They obviously weren't expecting company, as they were talking about ball chaffing.  The Dude who had the chaffed balls apologized. I was going to point out that next time he should consider packing some Monkey Butt or talc.... but then thought better of it... who wants to talk about ball health with a stranger! 

Of course we had to ask them our burning question-  WHY!

As it turns out The Dudes are a fan of this extreme sports guru who does ultramarathoning and vlogs about it.  Their hero apparently did the full LaCloche in 9 hours.  The Dudes wanted to do the LaCloche in as little time as possible.  Well good on them.  Now if you are a male reading this and are now inspired by the Dudes just learn from their mistake.... plan for ball first aid.... as chaffing is a bitch!

We stopped at H20 for lunch and not a moment to soon.  My queasy stomach had turned into a griping gut and I needed the thunder box aka the privy in the worst way.  Now the privy on this sight is up a big hill.  In fact it is perched on the edge of a big hill and it looks out over the camp site.  Nice views... but not for the others in the camp site.  Poor S looked up just as I was dropping my drawers... she quickly looked away.... poor, poor S!

The one advantage of Day 3 was the weather turned out to be beautiful.  S and I took advantage of the sun laid out our wet clothing and boots trying to get in some drying time while it was available.  Given the shining sun we chanced listening to our iPods for the rest of the walk.  I laughed when the first song that came one was "Happy Idiot" by Seeds.  It seemed fitting, as I was really beginning to question my idea of fun.   

After what felt like an eternity we finally saw the yellow blaze that indicates a campsite.  We knew from the map that we had at least 1 km to walk before we got to the site, but we didn't know that it would be a scramble over rocks with lots of ups and downs.  Not something that you want when you are weary and your concentration is waning.  I was prepared for more wipe-outs, lucky for me, my ability to find good footing held out and we made it to the sight.

H21 was probably the best site out of the whole trip.  Had a sheltered spot for the tents, that was relatively level, great water access and no creepy fish!  The loons were out in full force and I was able to bear witness to a loon to loon rumble...  man are they loud.   There was sun and a breeze which aided in the speedy drying of our clothing and boots, with the exception of the socks I was wearing on Day 2... those puppies were perma-wet for the rest of the trip.

A little slice of heaven...  Three Narrows Lake

Unfortunately my stomach and my intestines were still rebelling.  I started popping Pepto and Gravol and hoped for the best.  Whether we turned around and went back or kept on going was all going to be dependent on how I felt on Day 4.

Day 4-  Torture with A Side of Bliss and a Gallon of Water

Decision Day!!!

I woke-up to find that my gut rebelled at the thought of oatmeal for breakfast but was really interested in beef jerky.... go figure.  I took this as a sign that we were meant to carry on.

We packed up in record time and faced the climb out of this site, had we known this was going to be the easy part of the day, we both might have decided to turn around.  It wasn't long before the climbs became "CLIMBS" and the downhills became "ARE You FREAKIN' KIDDING ME!!!!!".

S and I both stopped at the first big downhill.  This Mother Fudger went down.... way down and at a 80-85 degree slope.   The path was a mixture of loose dirt, rocks and a tree root here and there.  Definitely not the most stable footing.  S decided she would descend this beast facing down hill and as she slowly picked her way down the hill, I decided I would go the way of the bear.... turned to face uphill and lumber down backward.  My technique paid off.  I was down the hill in record time and patiently waited for S at the bottom.  It was hard not to be in awe of this hill and to know that we made it down unscathed carrying heavy packs.

When we got to the bottom and looked up we said in unison "Glad it wasn't raining while we did that!" (This seemed to become the catch phrase for the rest of the trip).

It wasn't long before we came to the water fall.  All my You-Tubing prior to the trip paid off.  I knew that this was the last predictable & accessible water spot until we hit our campsite for the night.  To save time we decided to scoop and chemically treat the water... our first attempt for the trip.  Loaded up with a fresh supply of water we continued along the trail.  That is when Surprise #2 happened.

Now I knew from the You-Tube videos that we would be walking beside the water fall what I didn't know that for part of it we would be walking in the water fall.  If you have read any of my back-packing blogs before you know that water + rocks+ my boots are not.... so NOT.... a good combination.  I had visions of tumbling a$$ over tea kettle down the waterfall back to the starting point.  Thank goodness luck was on my side and all that I suffered was the occasional boot slip that had my heart racing and adrenaline pumping.

We continued along..... long ups followed by steep downs until we got to H23.  I begged S to stop so that I could stretch out my abdomen, as my stomach was rolling again and my innards were complaining.  I made a trip or two to the privy and it was upon my second return that I realized my Fit Bit was MIA!

When was the last time I saw it??????

FUUDDDDGGGE#### - At the privy.

I headed back to the privy dreading the thought that I would have to make a decision.... scoop the Fit Bit out of the depths of the privy OR to bid it adieu.  The whole walk there I scanned and scanned the ground, hoping against hopes that I would find it lying there.... but alas there was no Fit Bit on the path to the privy or lying beside it.

I said a silent prayer as I lifted the lid of the privy and peered in at the murky mess that it held.......

WHAT????

No Fit Bit!  What the HELL!

More scanning of the ground...... packing and unpacking of the pack..... patting of all my pockets...... nothing?

S commented- "Are you sure it's not in your pocket?"  I was vehemently replying-  "I've CHECKED TWICE!!!!!"  as I felt the dang thing in the pocket of the pants I was wearing under my splash pants!

Hand to forehead!

We continued along the trail knowing we had about another 5 km of ups and downs before we would be remotely close to our campsite for the night.  It was foggy... it drizzled.... it rained a little harder.... it fogged in more.  With each step my spirits fell lower and I questioned the WHY??? of this trip over and over.

I ventured to attempt a picture during one of our rest breaks.

At long last we saw the yellow blaze (by the way yellow became my new fav colour on this trip).  A happy dance ensued, but as it turned out we celebrated way too soon.  There were small slopes to scale, streams to jump and open rock faces to cross.  We finally reached the first campsite and I pleaded that we stop at that one, but S insisted that we needed to keep going until we got to the site we reserved for the night.  I will admit I had some really not nice thoughts about S going through my head at this time.  Lucky for her she was speedy and pulled ahead of me.... leaving me to stew in my bitterness.

Now H32 is gorgeous but you have to wonder about any campsite that needs seven.... yes seven cairns to point out the direction to the privy.  Did I mention that this was all uphill????? And a rocky hill at that!!!!!

CHRIST!!!

No person should have to go through that to have a pee..... so I didn't.    I ended up squatting and peeing wherever I felt like it..... take that impossible campsite!

By Day 4, S's blisters were so bad she had to wear her sleeping socks as a buffer between her fragile skin and the straps of her sandals.  My blisters were equally large, but luckily not in places that affected my ability to walk.

Although the distance to the privy is a disadvantage for this site... this site does host a bonus-  There is a rocky ledge that you can sit on to you soak your feet in the lake.  We did this while eating our supper and it made for an enjoyable meal-time.  It didn't hurt that the sun finally came out for the day and blessed us for a bit before the storm rolled in.  

SUN!!!!!  Lake Shigaug

It didn't seem that long from the time we retired for the night before the lightening started lighting up the sky.  I quickly unzipped the tent and ran outside (okay it was more of a creaky stand and fast pace hobble than a run) to have one last pee before the rain came down full force.  S hearing me commented- "Are you bringing your pack in?"  My response was "Noooooooo-  But that is a great idea!  You might want to wait a minute before coming out!"  Neither of us needed a repeat of the H20 experience.

We made it back to the "comforts" of our tents before the storm hit and boy did it hit.  The tent lit up every few minutes and the wind ripped at the flies.  The rain came down hard.  This all lasted a while.  It would break for a bit and then it would start all over.  Thank-goodness for shelter, no matter how flimsy it might be.  By this time I was starting to regret all the mocking I had done of Lake Superior thru-hikers.... my mirth at their displeasure was coming back to haunt me in spades.

Blogger Note:

It has taken three months to make it this far in the adventure and this story is starting to turn into a book vs a blog.  With that in mind and my anxiousness to get this thing posted I am suspending the story at the end of Day 4!   Tune in next time to find out the dramatic conclusion of our adventures!'

Hopefully it will not take me three months to write up the second half!

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.