Life's a Stitch

Day one – Chin Beach to Sombrio – Leave your fear at home. 

Drove to the meeting spot by the side of the road so Dave and Jeff could switch to daypacks. First bit of advice to the 60+/-  crowd and those with recent broken ankles: find a friend who will maintain a base camp, enabling you to hike in and out for a series of day hikes with daypacks. Thank you, Chuck for making this happen with some fine meals, red wine and bottled water. 

Started on logging road, turning onto the trail. Up we went, I'm looking off to the steep drop off. Don't look down to you right, comments Dave. Don't look down to your left, I reply realizing that we were on a high skinny ridge and what goes up must come down. Leave your fear at home. 

First day highlights, Jeff at the top of the ridge:

Coming down from the top. Point of advice #2 & 3 – In certain circumstances I'd rather be on my butt voluntarily than involuntarily and gaiters are a must.

It might be steep, but it's beautiful:

 

 

 

Don't know what got into us. Four of us, three aged 60 more or less, came to the decision to hike the Juan de Fuca Marine Trail on the west coast of Vancouver Island. You may have heard of the West Coast Trail, the well known BC extreme trek. Well this is the geographical continuation of the West Coast, the end of one located 200 meters from the beginning of the other. 

The original plan was to do the first three days of the West Coast  southbound and pay the $50 fee to be boated out at the half way point. That option was recently discontinued and seven days wasn't going to work, so Bob's your uncle, as they say in Canada.  A three day hike sounds so simple on paper, but this is no walk in the woods, involving scrambling, ankle sucking mud pools, leg twisting roots, slippery log bridges, bears and signs that warn you of the threat of cougars and rogue waves. 

Arriving in Victoria the night before, I obsessed rather than slept, thoughts  bubbling around my brain: will the bear lockers be full, will our tents hold up, worry about Dave and Jeff who have already been on the most rigorous section of the trail for two days, still have stuff on the to do list – ice, gas, Subway sandwiches for our first lunch…Tried to calm my mind by painting an imaginary watercolour but there was too much detail. New respect for long distance hikers and the amount of preparation required or do they go in with a certain amount of clueless denial? I think that could be it. Like childbirth preparation, no matter how much you know, nothing can adequately prepare you for the reality of the actual event. For heaven's sake, go to sleep, it's only three days.

This will be continued in segments, one every few days.

 

…I will have finished hiking three days of the Juan de Fuca Marine Trail. Hopefully. It started out as the five day plan, but given the terrain of day two, and one year out from last summer's fractured ankle that refused to heal, three days seems more do-able.  However, Dave, of Blogless Marsha fame, and their son persevered with a two day start. Oh what stories we'll have. That is if we successfully met at our rendezvous point out in the middle of nowhere.

Anyone taking bets? Check in next week for the official re-cap.

And as a follow up to last week's question: butterflies or barns? The answer is barn:

 

The weather and me. In terms of weather it's a lovely complaint to have in this usually cool, dank rain forest. When it comes to me I can usually cope, but the combination of the two produces painting time. 

Black Oak in snow.

There's something about painting snow when it's too hot to knit. Off to watercolour class, but there's no snow on the agenda today. Our choices are barns or butterflies.

Further to my last post, this is what I learned as a promoter's mother:

First of all, in my own home I was asked, "Do you work for Spry Bry (his professional name)? No, I'm his mother. Like this is his house and I'm his employee. I guess motherhood feels that way sometimes. 

Band members, touring in a bus with nine bunks for eight hours, having had their sleep interrupted by immigration for 2 1/2 hours at the border, get grumpy. I would, too.

Band bus drivers, especially ones who have done it for an entire career, have very interesting stories. 

I can communicate efficiently in Franglish. That's French, Spanish and English, a requirement in this situation. It was an exhausting proposition.

Band's contract riders contain interesting items such as 30 white cotton newly laundered towels (mostly onstage sweat towels), the equivalent of 10 drinks (beer, good wine, and specific brands  of rum and vodka) each, water only in plastic bottles and wine glasses only made of glass so I guess it's not about breakage…reasonable requests compared to the stories you hear. One famous group always asked for bowls of M&M's with the brown ones removed. It was supposedly a test of the promoter's attention to detail.

Negotiations continue throughout the day and everything is negotiable: sound equipment, food, accommodation. It gets heated at times.

Communication counts. Get it in writing or as they said way back when, when I was in grad school "If it ain't documented it didn't happen.  Thank goodness the boy kept e-mails that came in handy in resolving above disputes. The only bedroom that I had to give up was for the bus driver and his wife, who sleep while the band is engaged in sound checks and the concert itself. After everything is sung and done they board the bus at 2:00a.m., off to the next stop on the tour. 

When it came to what really matters, the band's performance was amazing, they were true professionals:

And the boy, Mr. Spry Bry, with a sold out venue, came through unscathed. So did his mom.

Last week: "Mom, I'm bringing in a band from France. Can they park their vehicle at our house?"

This morning, phone rings: "Howdy, Maam, this is Uncle Don, you ready for a 48 foot rock and roll bus at your house?"

"Bryaannntttt???!!!

Bus arrives, as big as the house. 

Knock on door, in steps tour manager. "…So, Can I have a look at zee bedrooms?"

Goodness, Bryant, can I get some warning here?

Welcome to my life.

And welcome to the amazing Caravan Palace The band, not the new name for my house.

Stay tuned for updates on what I'm sure will prove to be a most exciting weekend.

 

Today, first it's a kitty blog: 

To confuse matters, the cat's name is Monkey. There's yarn in there so that counts as knitting content. He's not ours, my yarn was at his house for a visit.

And a foodie and friends blog:

That's Blogless Marsha, more knitting content. It's not pictured, but she's working on her Cedar Leaf Shawlette. That name intrigues me as Cedars don't have leaves. I know. I live in a rain forest of cedars.

An interesting sky blog:

And of course, it's a watercolour blog:

On the topic of creativity I'm finding the secret for satisfaction is a dedicated area. Now I 've taken over two rooms, one for knitting supplies and one for painting. God help me when we have to downsize. Right now everything is organized and handy, no digging in closets or buried containers. Pure luxury.

Scheduled for my third or fourth flower painting class, I couldn't wait. On my lunchtime walk I discoverd a row of magnolias in full bloom. Never thinking I'd need one, that's when the phone camera comes in handy. 

The framing app also helps, saving a lot of money by helping with the decision of what's possibly frame worthy.

Back in the knitting saddle, the finger healed to a point where you can hardly see where eight stitches lived. The tip is numb to the touch, but it works for knitting. At long last I've started Taize, a project of Angie's that I've admired for years, putting my second Pashmina purchase to good use. That post of Angie's is a wonderful retrospective account of her knitting blog. She and I are old timers in that regard.

I only wish that I had enough of it for Angie's wider version, but there's plenty of stash available for that.

On the theme of soft as down, last night on the power line in front of our house, was a sweet juvenile Northern Flicker:

The frustration being the inability to post from my IPad. Hey Apple, what's up with that? On to the festivities. We celebrated Ms. M's Master's in Medical Physics:

Had Father's Day brunch at Calgary's Danish Canadian Club:

Packed in lots of family time with the favourite grandchild. I do believe there's special privilege in being the only one on both sides.

All in all a good trip at a lovely time of year, which included dramatic prairie skies, a successful evening fishing trip and, as we worked our way north, the ability to sniff the lilacs in sequential full bloom in three cities. 

Knitting and painting to follow.

Update: Listening to the news this morning we realize how dramatic those skies became, causing massive flooding and evacuations in the area. We flew through Calgary last night, having no idea how bad it was. Apparently it's going to get worse. On a positive note this morning, the mayor reports there as not been a single injury, but tough times ahead for his vital city. We are fortunate that M lives in the northwest part of the city near the university and is unaffected.