Winter silence, then comes the noise..

January has passed by quickly it seems, yet I have little to report on.  Fun outings with my friends, and plans for more in Feb.  As January comes to a close we're back into the rain, but here's some photos of the riverside promenade of Fort Langley a few weeks ago. Frost and a rosy sunset.

I am eager for color to return.  My rosemary bloomed at Christmas, and the snowdrops and miniature irises and grape hyacinth are coming soon.

I attended the Robbie Burns Supper put on by the Vancouver Police Pipe Band, as I have in years past.  They did a great job, and I can recommend going though it seems tickets are sold through friend-of-a-friend of the police force and/or pipe band, with proceeds going towards their touring.
The band was great, one I was familiar with seeing at the Irish Heather I frequented years ago, they covered plenty of songs I knew from Great Big Sea and Spirit of the West.
The food was fantastic; rolls, two kinds of salad, steamed veggies, traditional turnips, whipped potatos and haggis, and roast beef.  I got my yearly dose of haggis and more - in past years I'd heard that they sold off the leftovers in takeaway containers (and I just missed out), yet this year I inquired early and I suppose it filtered back to the kitchen somehow, there was an extra entire haggis, cooked yet unopened, and they simply gave it to me at the end of the night. Nice score!
On top of all this fine night was my highlight, the pipe band itself.  The pomp and pageantry of the bright  polished uniforms is exciting, and the wall of sound was tremendous.  A haunting call that wafts o'er the moors from a distance would befit this weather, but mere feet away from me it filled the hall triumphantly and I was silently cheering.  I felt I could crash through an entire battlefield single handed and annihilate everyone just because I have a wall of bagpipes with me!!!
I got three samples of different scotches and they were quite generous pours, so maybe that helps...

Liebster Award 2015

My friend Eeva nominated me for a Liebster Award 2015 for this blog - thanks Eeva!
Alas, as per award stipulations I can't nominate hers back and I don't really browse others' blogs often enough to have a favorite 11, but here are my responses to Wander the World's questions:

1. If you could visit one destination in the world, where would it be? Iceland.  Their culture has been proudly self-contained for ages, and their geography and landscape is dynamic and beautiful, and yet the land is small enough I can perhaps "do it all" in one go.

2. Which book is your favourite and why? "Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal", by Christopher Moore. I find it accessible to anyone who doesn't mind a humorous take on Christ's unaccounted-for years, and it's silly, but also thoughtful and well done.

3. Can you speak another language(s) and if so, which one(s)? A bit of German, enough to get by, and Grade 11 Canadian French, though is a bit rusty.

4. What is the most bizarre food you’ve eaten? "Bizarre" is relative.  I've eaten eight feet of raw stinging nettles in an hour at the Stinging Nettle Eating Championship in Marshwood, England.  They're high in vitamin D and would pair well with a Sauvignon Blanc.

5. Would you travel solo? I prefer travelling solo.  Less people to consult/cater to every decision.

6. What are your 3 essentials you take with you when travelling? Passport.  Water bottle.  Little toy bunny on my bag I can talk to when the going gets rough.

7. Do you prefer sweet or savory foods? Years ago I would've said sweet, but nowadays I find savoury more satisfying, less of that cloying mouth-feel and sugar spike-crash.  I sometimes convince myself that they're more healthy too.

8. Is your preference beers, wines or cocktails? Wine.

9. How did you start blogging? It was recommended as a tip for marketing and exposure to get a career foothold as a 'professional'... in whatever my profession is.  Hmm.  Some folks think I should court the travel mags to see if they'd like to publish my articles - any takers?

10. How many languages can you say “thank you” in? Five.  I can say "cheers" in more.

11. Where have you experienced the most extreme culture shock? Maybe Mexico, as many practices there we would consider unsafe here, especially with cars. Safety features like rear view mirrors and seatbelts and even seats are merely a suggestion!!  Most of my travels have been to countries with cultures similar to mine (Europe, and I'm English blood), so perhaps slight variations in gender roles, how ladies should dress and how macho the guys are. A wise man told me "People are pretty much the same, wherever you go" - the differences are amusing, but the similarities are just human.

Thanks for the nomination!

Silver for the season

As I write this, the grey rains have returned.  When I was younger I always disliked November as "nothing good happens" or ""I have nothing to look forward to", yet now I see it's up to me to make my own fun and make the choice to burn brightly despite the blah.  And so we start winding up for the Christmas season - not the frantic commercialism that'll set in like a panic the week before, but the positive festive aspects. 
One of my most anticipated tasks is decorating a tree.  Big or small, real or fake, it doesn't matter.  I'll decorate anyone's tree who will let me, that way we can enjoy it all December.
So here is one done; she has two steamer trunks full of ornaments accumulated over years that won't all fit onto a tiny tree, so I can pick and choose what I want to use each year.  This year's motif was sparkly: glass, crisp white, shiny silver, soft grey, and a few hits of red to catch the eye.  It'll go with the sparkling wine for her party.

I recalled years ago hearing a German folktale about silver pinecones; while not specifically for Christmas I enjoy the thought of benevolent and charitable spirits in winter.

Silver Pinecones
Once upon a time there was a man and woman living in their home near the forested mountains, and they had many children.  The man worked as a miner, but fell ill and was confined to his bed.  The family soon ran out of money to feed their children, but more pressing was the dwindling firewood to heat their home in the cold nights.  The wife set out into the woods to collect pinecones that would burn brightly and perhaps she could sell for some food.
In the dark woods she was afraid as she began to collect pinecones, and even moreso when one of the forest folk appeared and demanded to know why she was taking his pinecones.  When she explained her situation he suggested she instead collect the pinecones in the next forest over, just a bit further up the mountain.  She climbed there, and was so tired she set her basket down and immediately pinecones rained down around her and filled her basket.
As she carried her full basket back down the mountain she thought the load seemed to get heavier with every step.  When she finally poured out her basket, the pinecones had turned to solid silver!
She had enough to buy food for the whole winter and medicine to heal her husband, and they had so many silver pinecones left that the family was never poor or hungry again.
To this day, many still keep a silver pinecone in their homes for good luck.

And I just found this one today, though a few variations on the tale:
Christmas Spiders
A woman was cleaning her house before Christmas and the spiders around her home fled lest they be swept away.  The watched from high dark corners as she set up the Christmas tree, and when she'd gone to bed they raced along the boughs and excitedly admired the ornaments on the decorated tree, trailing their dusty webs behind them.
When Father Christmas arrived, he was glad to see that the spiders were so happy but knew the woman would be heartbroken to see her tree covered with webs, so with one touch he turned the webs to silver and gold.  The tree was even more beautiful than before.

Return to Bowen + Barnston

November had some fine trips out, but are winding down the travels for now.

One self-imposed quest was to find some challenging geocaches around the northwestern area on Bowen Island, as this was tied in with the last sailing trip of the year it allowed only one day to try, so we soldiered on despite the rain. This was hard, downpour rain that washed out hiking trails, sometimes a fast-moving creek cutting across, and sometimes a long stretch of shallow flood as the runoff from the steep hill chose the trail to be its new creek bed.  Beautiful misty green forest, though we didn't stop for many photos.  As the west coast of BC is a rainforest we can't afford to be too crippled by the weather, nonetheless we were glad to return to the boat, peel off soaking clothes for a wardrobe change then head up to our usual rented 'Summer House' at the Union Steam Ship Company for a warm potluck dinner in front of a wood-burning fireplace.  I am usually stationed right in from of said fire.  An easy end to a gruelling yet triumphant hike.  We're usually only there in March or November, yet the locals insist that it is occasionally dry and sunny there if we came during the summer!

Beach of river silt, soft and fine like flour.

Remembrance Day fell in the middle of the week this year - I could devote a post or page to current events and politics and war, but I don't wish to join the deluge of the media storm, I'm sure you can find another blog for that.  I had a steak omelette at the Skyhawk Restaurant and watched the vintage warplanes take off for their flypast before 11am.  Here we had cool but mild autumn weather, and went cycling around Barnston Island.  I remember the last time we were here, I recall the circuit taking us a lot longer to complete.  This was a pleasant cycle with four geocaches (where I left toy soldiers, to follow the seasonal theme), and a quiet pause at each end of the island.  Ended the day at my brother's house for my nephew's birthday with the family.

Recently we also made baked a large lasagna from scratch, which lasted the three of us for several meals.  With the rising cost of cheese and a half bottle o'wine in the sauce, it's definitely a luxury.  The joy is not only in the eating but in the process of creating, and I think it's a good sign of a healthy friendship if you're able to cook together! 'Tis the season for warm hearty comfort food.

Be not afraid..?

Bear viewed safely from car, across a river with a zoom lens.

Thanksgiving weekend found me fleeing rain in Vancouver and heading back to the Okanagan to spend the holiday with my parents.  Great way to escape the rain for days on end, typical on the coast - in Oliver we just had a cloudburst of hard fat drops that was over briefly.  I was geocaching alone in a wilderness preservation area that edged the US border.  Despite being protected by law and blocked from town mostly by a ridge, I saw and heard no animals here.  Perhaps they were just laying low for the impending rain.
One geocache lead me to a cave perched atop a steep slope of wobbly rocks, and I psyched myself out with thoughts of bears and rattlesnakes.  Save for two ATVs that came and went, there was no one around for miles and only a few would know vaguely where I was if I ran into trouble, and I had no bear spray or gun.  I edged closer to the mouth of the cave where my GPS suggested - even if the cache was inside, I'm not going in there! Then the rain began - I don't care, I'm not going in there! I fussed outside along the slope awkwardly, listening for any sound that I didn't make, poking into holes (is that one lined with fur?? At this point I'd be terrified of a grumpy marmot).  The light and clouds shifted and illuminated further into the cave... which was no deeper than a few feet.  No dark recesses harbouring bears.  No holes for snakes.  Barely big enough for a closet.
With that pivotal information I then examined the area and quickly found the cache.  Having found what I had sought and having other places to be, I felt no need to linger there.
What I felt was not a familiar feeling; I recognized it as the come-down off of fear.  I am not afraid often, or if so it's more like a dull nagging concern, to be noted and weighed carefully.  I am not an adrenaline junkie or even particularly sporty thrill-seeker, I am not extreme (save for perhaps culinary experiences?).  So this made me think on the nature of fear; chiding myself for wasting time being afraid, and yet this wasn't an irrational fear, as there are still bears in the area, close to town fattening up on fruit while they can and I could've possibly encountered one.  My dad says this caution has kept me alive so far.  Perhaps it's better to feel fear than nothing at all - afterwards I noticed the awesome smell of the desert sage and antelope bush more sharply, the breeze on the ridge like a hug from the sky, and it's easy to smile.
For my next trick, stay tuned as I visit Churchill, Manitoba next year, on a quest to find polar bears! Those are much scarier, as they're fearless and will stalk you for miles if they're so inclined.

The next day had a great cycle trip along the river promenade - also saw no bears or snakes.  Easy trail, flat and either paved or well gravelled, with lightly dappled shade trees.  This is my kind of path.  We could see along the hills where the summer's brush fires had been, though the trees were remarkably resilient.  Part of the route back had us on a path that disintegrated at some point, and we let ourselves through into a horse paddock.  Two horses watched us intently and leaned in for hugs.  I ought to hang out with horses more often.

Pre-Thanksgiving peace at Gibsons.

We sailed to Gibsons, which I've discussed before here, for a small pre-Thanksgiving gathering.  Much of what we come for stays the same, though city has granted the proposal for developing a large housing/commercial/conference center along the waterfront, and residents are now moving to court action to protest it.  As a visitor there's only so much I can contribute into this, other than to advise all readers to visit the town before it changes too much (though they wouldn't dare ruin Molly's Reach).  We had dinner at our traditional spot, the Waterfront Restaurant where Art knows our group and is very good to us, then the famous Molly's Reach for breakfast.  We also tried a new café uptown and a Greek restaurant, both of which we were pleased with and would gladly revisit again.  We found a park of networking paths that joined the old waterfront to the 'new' town without the dusty main highway and gruelling slope, so had an afternoon walk in the woods.  I remind myself that I should do this more often.
The trip over forecasted a strong wind so we took the cautious inner passage around Bowen Island, and found it dead calm there.  The sky was a flat grey that blended into the hill islands of Howe Sound like a watercolor painting.  No waves, just water like a lake, broken by a silent seal head cutting through.  The return trip gave us a fine breeze all the way from one marina to another, we only needed engine to dock. 

Rafting down the Thompson

'Tis my friend's vacation time; he figured he'd take time off and yet had little desire to go or do anything far from home - while every other travel bug I know is screaming to get as far away from the daily routine as possible.  "Why sit by a pool drinking in Mexico when I can do the same thing here?"  Maddening, yes I know!
Yet he came up with this bright gem, to go white water rafting on the Thompson River up the canyon here in BC.  He'd never been rafting before.  I'd only been rafting once with my mother down Montana's Snake River when I was 14, so I was eager to go again.
Many were invited, yet only he and I went.  We departed at 6:30am to reach the Kumsheen Rafting Resort near Lytton by 10am.  It was nice to see the sunrise.  A few kilometers south of Hope we narrowly avoided hitting a bear as it ran across the highway, it ran into the truck behind/beside us but I didn't see it on the road so I hope it's okay.  It made me think that everyone everywhere should have a number for wildlife rescue saved into their phones, because how do you search for that quickly on a highway? Just out of Hope we encountered fog; deep river valley, autumn morning fog.  It slowed our progress, the turn of roads revealing just fragments of scenery like a story unfolding only as fast as a storyteller can tell it; a few close rocks or trees here and there, all that drop off steeply into grey below over the edge of the road.  I knew we'd have a different view coming back home the other way, so I enjoyed it for what it was.
We got to the rafting campground in time, set up tent, went rafting; we'd got the paddle+motor package and got both boats to ourselves since no one else signed up for that day, so we paddled the slower parts in the morning and had a great view of the sculpted canyon walls and green/grey water and it was still pretty quiet, some easy rapids.  We saw a lone female Merganser, one of the few waterfowl that don't mind the fast-moving water.  Saw an eagle, and a dying salmon that lingered near our oars.  It was a a gentle beginning to the day yet I felt giddy.  This is just so nice!
Lunch break was at their kitchen/dining hall facilities, simple make-your-own tortilla wraps.  Perhaps it would've been more elaborate if more guests had been there, but this was fresh and simple and one wouldn't want a heavy weight in their stomach going over the next stretch of white water.  I had tea and that suits me fine.

After lunch we were on the larger power boat, which just ploughed right through the cresting waves, I laughed so much I couldn't keep my mouth shut and kept getting a mouthful of water, tasted clean and wild.  Water held on my eyelashes that I could only brush away once we'd cleared the rapids, so much I saw with one eye open and just enjoyed feeling the bow of the boat drop and get pummeled.  My friend had a GoPro camera recording on his helmet so I trusted the footage would be fine to review later.  For now is just feeling the thrill.

The trip ended where the Thompson meets the Fraser.  I'm sure that had we paddled the silt-brown Fraser that water wouldn't have tasted as nice.  A van returned us to the resort.
The resort and town of Lytton itself is busy for the River Days on the labour day long weekend, but alas we were at the end of season.  The hot tub didn't seem as warm as I'd hoped, the restaurant was closed and we drove further onto another sleepy town of Spences Bridge to find food after 7pm.  Retired to our tent early for lack of anything else to do, but didn't sleep as the trains on either side of the canyon ran frequently as well as the large trucks with their engine brakes.  In the morning while we found a couple of geocaches in Lytton, a woman at the visitor's center confirmed you'd have to be quite far from town to escape the sound of the trains.

View from the back of our campsite, looking left...

and looking to the right.  Note how close the train tracks are.

As in our Sasamat lake floating excursions, we are always on the lookout to refine and improve for next time.  Next time we'd like to come during the River Days, when there's a live music stage in the center of town.  Next time we'd like to have more people to get the group discount and play cards with in the evening and make big-batch camp cooking worthwhile.  Next time we'd like to be far from trains. 
But I was happy with this time, just the way it was.