 
"... RISK-TAKING IN SPORT IS AN AFFIRMATION AND CELEBRATION OF LIFE."Professor C.E.S. FRANKS - "THE CANOE AND WHITE WATER" the treatise on Ontario paddling. |
24/06/2008 |
Well, the big dump truck rumbles by the house at3:50 a.m. these days. Ah, tranquility.
We found a bird on the water the other evening. Brought it aboard, dried it out, kept it warm for the night. Next moringing it was raising a ruckus, so I took it outside and released it. It flew a short distance of about thirty feet and landed near the base of a birch tree. It seemed like it was wondering where it was and how it got there. I left it for a while and when I returned it was gone. No doubt we'll hear it singing, soon enough.
A few neophyte kayakers are on the water now. Not unlike the bird, they are getting their wings wet, paddling up and down the McLaren's Depot Snye. They missed last night as a beautiful evening for paddling. It was immediately after the storms rumbled through. The air was cool. A thin veil of mist hung along the river. The water was glassy smooth in the still aftermath of the storms.
I'd taken some risk during the storms. Thunder dragged across the sky above while I clambered up the aluminum ladder. Perched atop the ladder, I poked a long, aluminum-handled pruning saw into the cedars. Some thirty feet and more up, I was trying to cut some "windows" into the scene. It takes a lot of ladder climbing and hill climbing to get it done.
I did my volunteer run to the Perth Hospital, taking a neighbour there for a quick check. Five hours, all tolled. It's always interesting to go there. Seems like you see old friends there. Other people who have come from "away" as well. I had a chance to catch up on the newsfront, that "before-it-happens" preview of impending news. Such is the rural community; one perched on the interface of the traditional wilderness community and the future economic development of uranium and it's terrible toll on the immediate land and the surrounding regions as affected by wind and watershed. It will affect every living thing in this Highlands and Ottawa Valley Region. Thank heavens for the tenacious and courageous stance of the likes of John Kittle and First Nations Peoples. Where are you now, Farley Mowatt? |
11/06/2008 |
Well, First Nations peoples have an apology from Canada. I know the apology doesn't fix it. But would China have apologised? I know from my own experiences with Catholic orphanages and foster homes that some things will just not be erased from memory, and that life is a bit bumpy from the hurts. I never did, and never will get an apology.
And talk about unusual events, we just saw a battle that is rarely played out before human eyes. A great blue heron and an osprey. They were shouting at each other, and pecking at each other. The less maneuverable heron took shelter beneath a rock overhang, and that settled the battleground for the while.
Today I finally saw mamma osprey. I've seeen papa carry long distance and then drop a fish, but tonight he got home to the happy little fem. She jumped up on top of the fish, I guess, because of her visibility. She's generally so low that you'd not believe there is anyone home there.
Loons are out and about, but I haven't seen their nest sites yet.
I have seen the bald eagle's nest, though. Ya gotta love this region. Fantastic. Fantastic nature, people, music, and events.
Check our links pages.
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09/06/2008 |
" DEERFLIES ! "
Yep, the next round of Mother Nature's testings is at hand. Woderful woodland creatures, these. I never knew about them until at about age sixteen or so. I went to work in Georgian Bay as a fishing guide. I did some of the guiding, alright, but I also did some other " grunt " stuff as well. My dear ol' uncle had me go out back, without any warning or material, to dig a septic bed trench. Now, if you've dug the garden by hand in the city, you know that some bugs can get to you.
Well. Take a trip into the Bay. Shuffle back into the woods with a shovel and try, just TRY to dig a nice, even trench in the Canadian Shield. I learned all about my uncle's dry sense of humour. Something big me REALLY, really HARD! I yelped like a wolf in a blueberry patch. They probably heard me on the mainland, which was very, very, very far away. That, of course begged the question of " What the ... was that? " My uncle pleasantly identified that as being characteristic of the deerfly.
So, here at home I've been doing a little silvaculture. Actually, quite a bit. Of course, the weather's just perfect, what with 45 percent humidity, and 30 plus temperature. Everyone came out of the woodwork to greet me: Dearflies, blackfies (yep, still here - come on in, I'll show you) and the ever-present mossies. It's always refreshing to reaquaint yourself with the woods and its creatures each year. Canoeing, anyone?
I've had cause, recently, to remember my old friend, Bill Williams. Along with myself, Bill also played host to the aforementioned flying hoards. But Bill was an attractant to the human pest, as well.
You see, Bill Williams was a Canadian Ojibway Indian, from Moon River. He and I shared just about everything that year. I even got to tast some of the hatred that he had to endure. It's particularly interesting to remember this, because the problems he endured have carried forward to today, some 45 years later.
I rememember Bill going out into the Bay, to pick up something at the local store, which happened to be on an island. Bill told me to " Wait here. I'll be back. " I sat in the boat, tied to the dock. I watched Bill step out onto the dock and start his way up the grey (yep, Canadian spelling) wooden steps. As he made his way ashore, and up those steps, the " hood *quot; had a special greeting set up for him. They assembled themselves on each side of the approach to Bill's destination.
They taunted Bill in a way that was unfamiliar to me. They called him names. They said " They shouldn't let Indians drive boats! " They pushed him and shoved him. They knocked his hat off. This was racism, though at the time, I didn't know what racism is.
Bill and I shared, as I said, just about everything. We lived in what I called " The Doghouse ". We went portaging into little lakes that hardly saw any people, as they were back a ways, where one had to sweat, carrying the old tumpline and cedar canvas Chestnut. Ah! Bill knew where the fish were. He showed me much; bear dens, gar pike, and I don't know, just a ton of stuff that you learn when you eat, sleep, play, and work with someone who has a lifetime of wilderness experience.
Bill took me out in his home made boat. I mean, this young guy build his own boat, and bought his own motor, and fed it gas. We were out somewhere in the Bay when a group of the same or similar locals spotted Bill the Indian. They circled and circled us. They hollered obscenities. They tried to swamp us. I suspect that if they had, they would have left us there.
Another time, Bill and I went to a big party in the islands. Now, I never really knew where the heck I was, because we didn't use maps. But I was alright with that, because I had years of experience of just heading into the bush, wandering around in the beaver ponds and lakes and rivers without a compass or map. I always seemed to come out of that within a few feet of where I'd gone in. Just an uncanny knack.
Anyway, Bill took me out to this party. And there were guys who were about to be ordained Priests, a woman who worked for my uncle, and I don't know, just a lot of people arrived at this old lodge somewhere in the Bay's islands. Well, some people hit rocks and shouted " I've been running around here twenty five years, and this is the first time I've hit a rock! " Others were stepping out onto the water, drunkenly saying they could.
Toward the end of it, we were all back at the big resort. Somehow. Bill said, " Well, time to head back, David ". Bill stepped aboard his flat-bottomed punt and settled into the pilot's seat. I followed, aiming for the passenger seat. But before I got down into the boat, my uncle's female employee said " You're not going home with Bill, are you, Dave?
" "Yeah, why? " You know how those Indians are, when they're drunk. " No, I didn't know how those Indians are when they're drunk. But no-one there was exemplary, or even able to say it, I'll tell you.
But by this time, a large contingent of the party-goers had lined up along the dockside. They were all staring at me, in silence. It actually made me feel like I'd made a mistake. But as I still am today, I gave my word to Bill that I'd go home with him. I was honour bound to keep it. But the crowd made me wonder about my wisdom. I grabbed the old kapok-filled lifejacket and started to tie it on.
Bill asked " You're not scared, are you, David? "
" No! "
By now I'd got pretty used to reading the treeline, and remembering routes through the islands. Remembering one very, very tight spot on the route (and this was my first trip through that area) , Coon Gap, I asked Bill " Hey, Bill. Isn't that rock somewhere around here? "
Bill said " Yeah, right there. "
I had to lean over the gunwhale to actually see the rock. In the black and starry night, I could see the rock, which " just " broke the surface, and it was only a third of a meter away. There was nothing impaired about Bill's ability that night.
But there was something impaired about the people who were at the party. They tried to give me a picture of someone, and the picture was distorted. It was based on their own biases and prejudices. I may have been naive. Perhaps it was my Mennonite background that made me want to be honourable and honouring to an individual, to my own word. In the end, Bill proved to me what integrity and courage are. I have long borne a grief in knowing how Bill died. In part, though, I know it was the way that greater community treated and abused a gentle man, and a man of courage and integrity, that killed him.
In a similar way, I have watched the mirror image of what happened to Bill Williams in those lonely places out in the Bay, where no-one would see or bear witness. I have seen it right here in the community of this subdivision of Palmerston Highlands.
It's funny how a group can make itself to be quite righteous, even when it violates its own moral and legal positions. It is strange to me that persons can make a judgement about an individual whom they have never even spoken to. It's difficult for me to understand how they would make a judgement without enquiring about the " Other side of the story ". It's hard to beleive they wouldn't want to view the hard facts of black and white, before make a judgement about someone. It's hard to beleive that they wouldn't even investigate their own situation and reflect on that whole picture.
At least the men who were spoken about in the Bible, who were about to kill a person by the slow, cruel means of throwing stones, stopped. They stopped, because of their huge dignity, honour and integrity. They respected the comment " Let him who is without sin cast the first stone. "
That kind of integrity didn't exist for Bill Williams either. Those people on the dock were probably quite comfortable in their condemnation of Bill, because of his race. I have learned that often times the only way to walk softly is to indeed carry a big stick.
I like to live believing in honour, integrity, courage and others. However, sometimes there are giants who gang together to harm the meek.
Moon River - a song about change in the environment - remembering Bill Williams
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28/05/2008 |
Well, the most significant thing here at the Palmerston Highlands subdivision is a regime change for the subdivision. A veteran community member, experienced in working with a cooperative community governance is now President. That should bring a very positive change in the atmosphere here. With much devotion to protecting the region from uranium mining, he has succeeded in bringing on-line 19 political councils who want the Province of Ontario to bring about a moratorium in uranium mining in Eastern Ontario.
He has already initiated some dramatic changes, and I think that the community will benefit from his aspirations to bring together the people here in various ways. While this would be a very tiresome task for anyone, our new President, with his supportive spouse, should be able to bring the changes that will again raise our community to a place you’d like to live in. Perhaps, even, we will see the return of a supportive community, rather than a “policing” community.
It's significant to have a President who actually lives in the community, who can see, day-by-day, the changes going on in the roads and the environ. A city resident who comes up for weekends just doesn't understand. It's very different to live here and love it, to visiting for a few days and leaving.
As to the environment, the mosquitoes are still strong, and the blackflies seem to have diminished. One of the many deer that have a flyway on the winter’s ice is stuck in the river bottom, with a good bit of it above water. Its smell is not as romantic as the scent of the pines. Thankfully, we can watch crows and vultures doing the spring cleaning of the river, as has been the practise for centuries. The water level, in " the land between " is very, very low. Our floating dock is resting on the bottom. Meanwhile, the river is still very high down at Dalhousie Lake. Here, a fish sanctuary is marked by signs. A great many fishermen were there, enjoying the flaunting of the law and of the signs. These clowns will wonder what happened. When their children come to this place to fish, they’ll ask “what happened to all the fish, dad?” I guess they’ll get an answer like “Global warming has affected everything.” What’s wrong with these people?
We still haven’t brought out the Zodiac yet. It certainly seems like a luxury, given the fuel situation. In reality, it’s a luxury, no matter how you judge it. I certainly never had this kind of thing in my life before. It will likely not be used even as much as last year. I have to admit it’s a lot of fun. It still strikes me as mysterious how the average 12 – 16 foot tin boat can have a capacity of 2 or 3 people, and yet this 10 footer has a capacity of 5 persons. It’s short, a little squirrelly to handle, and maybe you feel susceptible to certain hazards like underwater branches and all. It’s a quiet ride, a soft, cushy ride, where you feel like you’re riding on a mattress. It’s insulative to the cold water, and is virtually unsinkable. I mean, there’s a reason why so many military and police use these boats. Actually, I love it. But it’s going to be gas-miser mentality ruling henceforth.
We finally got the kayak dock into the water in Perth town. You’ll find it in the centre of Perth, in what is called " the Tay Basin. Check out the tie-up cleats I carved for you to temporarily secure your kayak to the dock. You’ll find display boards that will help you understand the name, or you can look up the name on the web. You may have to type in " Tay Turning Basin " . Adventure Agent is happy to have been asked to contribute to the community this way.
Don’t forget to check our events pages, and why not come out and find out how to handle your kayak? Remember: paddle safely and you’ll have a lifetime of inexpensive fun. TAKE YOUR INSTRUCTION from Adventure Agent. See you on the river! - Dave
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16/05/2008 |
Yep! That hard-working man in the big tandem dump truck is leaving Palmerston Highlands each morning, rolling past our door at 5 a.m., for places unknown. I wish him a safe journey each day. It's a very long day for this man, and it doesn't matter what you do, if your days are long, you can become a little inattentive at moments. So I wish him a safe day on the road every day.
Meanwhile, back at the log house on the riverbank, the Silken Broom, the mosquitoes are out in droves. I don't remember last year being like this, but it must have been, right? Do mosquitoes migrate back? Or was the spring flooding the cause?
The place looks a little grim so far, what with the ground still a stale brown haze of leaves. Some greenery is popping out at ground level, for sure, but it just seems dim at the water's edge. But the wildlife, of beavers, birds, muskrats, fish dimpling the surface, and the calls of owls and loons add their own beauty and colour. Surprise of surprises, an American Bittern was spielunking just straight across the river, last night as I played a finger-picking medley. Lynda launched her canoe to go see if she could locate it, but ... the "said" mosquitoes drove her back promptly. I'd had just about enough of them, too. Them, and the pesky blackflies. They were in a dual-shift mode, both clouding about me. So I packed the axe and stepped indoors.
And speaking of music, ... For all my many fan, and the customers of the venue I occasionally play at, my recording of a CD is being processed as you read. It was done in a special, secret, offshore location. I haven't heard it yet, so I have to reserve comment until I do hear it. It's reportedly pretty good quality. It features just myself and my guitar at this point, but I may be able to edit a version with some harmony and instrumental background myself. But that may ruin the studio quality. We'll have to see. Stay tuned on this one.
So many guests have asked about a CD from me, that now, even the host is asking "So, Dave, when are you going to get a CD out?" I replied that I hoped to do it before I'm 75. I did do a home-made CD a couple of years ago, but it recieved some sobering comments, and I withdrew it. It wasn't selling well, anyway. Mind you, nobody knew I had done a CD.
On another note, (pardon the expression), I did do a totally digital recording of Lynda playing a flock of piano pieces. This was done as a FUND RAISER for the local churches' Sunday School programs.
The sale of this, strictly instrumental CD, is on a DONATION basis. If you'd like to support a Christian, country community Sunday School program, we'd appreciate the support. There's a few parents out there who realize the value of a Sunday School. It promotes sharing, listening skills, co-operation, history, and social studies, when you think about it. Values that are diminishing in our society are still being taught in Sunday Schools. It's a Canadian tradition.
So, if you'd like a copy, give us a call, although you'll have to come here to pick it up, or pay for postage. Maybe your church would like to support a rural community and ask for a bunch of them.
This CD is an excellent instrumental that is certainly a good variety of pieces (peaces?) that can fill the air with the characteristic of a middle-of-the-road FM radio sound. This was recorded in one take, and one mistake can be heard well enough, but it is overshadowed by the rest of the project.
Before you come out, call us to be sure we have a copy. There's no fancy cover. It's a hand-written label, and there's no fancy label on the face of the disc itself. It's a fund raiser, available by donation. It will be available this weekend at the ELPHIN (this is an Ontario hamlet near Snow Road) PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, and will also be available through the Snow Road church and the McDonald's Corners church. We hope we sell out. We hope we can keep burning copies for the Sunday School programs. Keep the fire of Canadian Tradition alive. The world needs it. 613 278 0586
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13/05/2008 |
BLACKflies!
Doesn't that just say it all?
Well, how 'bout THIS one? Mosquitoes!
Put 'em together and whaddayagot? Ontario springtime.
Hey. On the good side, the trees are greening up, the waters are warming up.
The Bitterns, loons, and all of them are back. Pilieated woodpeckers are squaking, herons are swooping. I haven't seen or heard of bears this spring.
This afternoon I tried to locate the illusive American Bittern. I knew of its general whereabouts because I hear him on my regular road run. Anyway, I paddled into the bay, listened a while, and sure enough he started talking. Ducks, redwings and muskrats made a lot of ruckus, and some big smallmouth bass were patroling in shallows. I paddled closer, lay still a while, and waited for another prompt. Closer and closer I got, until I was about 15 metres from him. He broke into the air before I spotted him. I'd rather have just watched him, but I couldn't see him. Lynda's going to locate the other one, which is on the oterh side of the island, tongight. Lovely sunshine evening.
The big tandem dump truck has just pulled onto the island. Maybe it's going to be back to the same schedule as when it was new, gringing out at five a.m. and in after dark. Long days, and hard work to get into some of the sites, and stay awake and alert for safety sake. Tough job, and costly, with fuel factors.
Some pickup, doing work on one of the houses here, chops in to the island and out the same way, hitting the brakes just before and just after the bridge. Of course, our resident officer isn't out there to jump into the roadway and yell "SLOW DOWN". It would be interesting to see the interaction. |
29/04/2008 |
Woa! It's been a long time since I blogged in. Too much fun going on. Musical jam sessions, a few gigs to look after, securing boats that want to float away on the ever-cresting river. Clean up the residue of branches and trees, now that the snow's gone. We're still getting rising waters. But for the avid whitewater paddler, the Mississippi looks like a pretty awesome run right now. Even the long rapid on the south side of the island looks runnable. Lots of water to cushion you from those sharp-edged Mississippi River rocks. (Take the hint - this river can do some serious damage to bodies and boats.) I checked out the Clyde River the other day, and while it looked like it's dropping a little from the recent peak, it still looks like some heavy water should be happening in the middle and upper sections. Again, don't take these rivers at face value. Paddle smart. Paddle safe!
The other night I was driving along our road in the dark. Now you have to picture this. It's not even summer yet, so the population and visitors, even in the daytime are very low. I mean, even our main roadways in this semi-wilderness area are barely traveled. And this was at about 11:15 at night. I was driving with the knowledge that there can be all sorts of creatures zipping across the road. It was within a hundred or so feet of our driveway that I saw a flashlight coming down a driveway. Then the person with the light hollered loudly, and disturbingly into the quiet air "Slow down!" Looking at my speedometer, I was doing under 40 kilometers an hour. That's less than 25 miles per hour! That's bicycle speed.
But that's what this Palmerston Highlands Owners Association has become. It's as though each person thinks they are the police. And this individual seems to have no respect for the peace and quiet of the late evening. I wonder if he stands out on the street he lives on in Ottawa at 11:15 at night and hollers at all the cars that are going 40 kilometers per hour. I don't think so. But that's what has happened to the people here. It's becoming more and more city-like as the demographic changes. The interesting thing is that this guy doesn't live here. So he doesn't see what I see. I mean it's really not uncommon for vehicles of all sizes to be doing well ove eighty kilometers per hour here. If he'd really be observant he'd know that. If he was really observant, he'd be able to judge a vehicle's speed a little better. The road speed limit here is actually 80 kph, as far as I know. And I wasn't driving erratically or anything. But that's how it's getting to be.
It's no wonder that the Annual General Meeting has such a dismal turnout. It's become an association of policing, rather than an association that nurtures good, responsible and exemplary corporate citizenship in the region. I'm beginning to think that the man who moved here and said "I want to know what the rules are so I can get around them" is smart. He, like so many others here, has almost nothing to do with the Association's function. It's no wonder.
25 miles per hour. |
08/04/2008 |
Today we saw a Great Blue Heron. We also saw a Loon. So spring is definitely springing. The loons won't be long building their nest near here. But with the water levels anticipated, and the unprdictable water fluctuations due to dam control use, to protect human property developed at or near the flood plain, the loon nests and eggs are at risk this year, I would guess.
A couple spoke with us about kayaking, while we were in Perth today. They've had a couple of opportunities to survive some unfortunate situations. It's these little bits of "easy-looking" waterways that often do us in. I cannot forget the cocky young man we had in our pool sessions one winter. It seemed as though you couldn't tell him anything. He was really over-confident. I guess our talking about going under the ice at the Toronto Beaches, and into the ice caves there, searching for a lost child, made him think that you can do this sort of thing without regard.
But like this couple, I'd learned a lot of lessons about easy paddling conditions, and the deceit of apparent innocence of some water conditions. This couple is the kind of folk you can paddle with and know that they're not going to do anything really far-out stupid, because they know that every paddle stroke has its risk. I live by that. It's good to remember the motorcyclist's creed: "Ride to Live - Live to Ride." You'll notice that the old riders who are street savvy take a deliberate pace.
I had really hoped to get some paddling in today, because it was projected to be a nice, warm, sunny day. And they were right. It was a gorgeous day. I spent Friday and Sunday going to the Travel Show in Ottawa. Today I returned some of the goods, that were displayed at the show, to Lanark, on the way to Perth.
The river here is open for at least a mile and a half, which is better than the rest of the area. Playfairville islooking just about perfect for whitewater runs in the usual hotspots. The Clyde River is moving good in places, like at the bridge in Lanark, but just upstream, it's still ice-locked. I saw my friend Steve's sea kayak out there, tethered on the ice. Obviously, he's been out too, although I'd say it was just a real short jaunt. But, hey, we like to ease into the season, and it's just plain smart, anyway, if you haven't been practicing your rolls in a pool all winter. I envy you very much if you've been able to do that. |
06/04/2008 |
Rapids are roaring, loud as ever. Chipmunks, ospreys, eagles, otters, deer and people are all trying to do their spring thing, but this year, it's over and under seemingly mountains of snow. It seems as though most laneways, and certainly most backroads, are clear of snow. But no, not ours. We still have a whack of snow and ice on the "dome" near the house. While others simply drive out, we still have to be careful about lining up "just so" in order to shuss down the drive. The bottom, or "runnout", for us kayakers, is a skateway. In fact we probably should take the honour for that, instead of Ottawa, famed for the longest skating rink in the world.
Always trying to see a positive side of things, I have to admit that while there have been ongoing warnings to lake and riverside residents, this log house's awkward winter driveway is also our salvation. The water has to go almost to pre-historic levels in order to threaten our house. And, come summer, when the town of Perth is sweltering hot, we often have a temperature of just ten degrees. Pretty, cool, thank you. A log house is pretty well insulated anyway, though. It takes many days for the heat to penetrate the logs, heat up their mass, and affect the indoor temperature.
I finished my volunteer work at the Perth Tay River Turning Basin (beside photo on this link) a couple of weeks ago. This work was preceded by electronic consultation back and forth among a small crew of us. We then went to work in the "Crystal Palace" at the Basin. Here we built the dock, whose purpose is to make the Basin more accessible to kayak paddlers.
It was always awkward to get into a kayak at Perth. Most usually I would go to the "Last Duel Park" and put in at the boat launch. However, if you wanted to go into town to dine, shop, or take in the various festivals, it was awkward to get to the downtown.
This dock should resolve that. As Perth heads for the Centennary of the Tay Canal, this project will help to promote our region.
We still have to make a third trip to Perth in order to put the floats onto the kayak dock. We decided that with the floats, it would be far too heavy for us to drop into the water. It's a two foot drop from the docks that are there, and the docks are about two feet below ground level.
So we'll likely do this final bit of work when the ice goes out of the Tay Basin. It should make it a little easier for kayakers to enter and exit their boats. The dock is only about fourteen feet long, and we're going to anchor it parallel to the present docks. That, of course, would not be my preference. My suggestion was to place it like a "T" from the present docks. However, someone feels that the stability has to be there. So basically, anyone wanting to get into the Basin to kayak will have to wait until any other kayak is out of the way. This can be a long time, if much gear has to be stowed in the boat.
Hey, with only about 43 years of kayaking, I think I know just about everything about launching a kayak. From high docks, to whitewater runs where you have to be actually held in place while you enter the kayak so you can take two strokes and pivot under a cascade before being engulfed in a maelstrom of airated water, and "seal launching" on Wilderness Canoe Association trips, I've done a few myself, and I've watched hundreds more.
The main thing is, I guess, that the Tay Basin will now have a nice, low profile kayak launch site. I wish it could have been more conducive to a group situation, but there were financial limitations. So, despite the acclamations and applause about this new dock, for myself, launching my kayak into the Tay Canal will still be at the Last Duel Park.
What, with the next few days of warm weather and rain, we should be in heavy flood conditions soon. Incidentally, for those of you who get your hair in our region's whitewater, the Mississippi Rive at Playfairville looks awfully good for water level right now. Get out there.
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30/03/2008 |
Things get in the way of the avid paddler. Sometimes those things are just trivial and insignificant, but nonetheless, they rob the clock.
Around Snow Road Station, which may become known as Glow Road Station if the uranium mine goes through, relationships are just like in the Big City. This uranium mine is targeted for the former railstop known as Robertsville. Robertsville is just about 3 miles from here.
This incendiary subject has, at once, melded a community out of communities and split a sector of it. The issues are indeed dizzying. Race, jobs, real estate values, wilderness destruction and more are all part of the puzzle. You can learn a little about it at AdventureAgent.net/nature/uranium3.html. But remember, this is only a scratch of persons and political bodies that oppose this whole series of legalities and socio-economics.
The Premier of Ontario has pitted himself and the mighty machinery and heavily filled deep pockets of Ontario against the popular opinion of the majority of the region's residents and landowners. He has relentlessly indicated that this sparsely populated area will not be listened to, while his Bay Street buddies can destroy this wilderness, its communities, its waterways, its lands, its wildlife, with no obligation to forewarn a landowner, no avenue for the landowner to restrict access (trespass) or destruction, and absolutely no obligation to repair any mess and destruction.
No environmental assessment prior to such acts is obligated. We would wish that sufficient noise from the people and peoples of Ontario will give this government cause to move swiftly to enact a moratorium against the mine development of Robertsville, at least until the issues are all sorted. The uranium will be there for hundreds of years, so there's no need to rush.
All landowners in Ontario should be concerned for their own lands, or at the least, about the principles at work here.
While the media points attention at certain sacrificial First Nations individuals and bands, there is a huge and purposely ignored other sector of the region who oppose this Robertsville mine, but also other parts of Eastern Ontario.
This is of importance to the paddling community as well, because you, the paddler, will not likely be paddling down the nicely bush-lined rivers and lakes of many of our parks. These companies seem to have no restrictions on them, like leaving a margin of trees beside a lake or river. If you want to see huge areas of radio-active slag piles on a paddling excursion, plan now to tour North Frontenac Township. Hedging the beautiful Crotch Lake, this mine poses risks for it too.
Fishermen too can likewise look to the future of Crotch Lake and the Mississippi River that flows through it. Whatever chemicals spill into the breaches of the rock layers that hold and carry waters to our streams, rivers and lakes in the process of extraction of uranium here, the fishery will be affected.
This portion of Ontario is a beautiful gem, still seemingly unknown to hosts of travelers. It would be better for the region's future, and for Ontario's tourism future, to grind this machine to a stop. Link through to the web pages that will educate you about the Robertsville uranium mine. Then write, walk, and take a stand. Visit before it's gone! For good.
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04/03/2008 |
At about five minutes to midnight I was awakened from a deep sleep (for a change). The deep howls, yapping and barking of wolves was louder than ever I have heard it before. When I lived in Shanty Bay (Ya, I know. All the quaint names that speak of what the area is like.) the coyotes used to go on and on, just about two hundred yards away. The neighbour there said he'd seen one that was about 120 pounds. He admitted that it was a very, very big coyote. Well, a couple of years ago here, I was upriver, trekking through the bush between Miller Lake and Ragged Chutes. I saw a set of scratch marks that a canine makes after it's marked the territory. It looked like five or more feet between the front track and the back scuff. It was later that year I saw a really big wolf just offshore here on the ice. He was reddish, like an airedale terrier colour. At the time, I stepped out and yelled at it, but it didn't so much as turn its handsome head toward me. It just kept heading upriver. I listened to hear if there was any variance in sound, like maybe they'd tell me that they'd made a kill. I wonder if the deer I describe below was why they were making such a ruckus. But it was really loud, and really close. When I get up, I'm going to check for tracks if I remember.
Yesterday my neighbours saw a couple of deer go through the ice. They then got together, dragged a canoe along the shore, and used it to get safely closer to the deer, like I did a couple of years ago. They did manage to lasso it and pull it out of the hole. Apparently the deer was near exhaustion by the time they got it out. It was said to me that the deer came closer to the men, as if it recognized that they were trying to help it. They released the rope, and after some soothing talk, it headed off.
But the splashing of the deer in the water was a dinner bell to another creature. We've seen this before. A Bald Eagle drew near, and was watching, and waiting for this deer to die. We have seen them seemingly pecking at deer in the hole in the ice before it was dead. It's a sad thing to watch the deer drown. They fight to the end, with hooves flashing and slashing at the ice, trying to get out. But their legs are so straight, and their hooves so hard and slippery, they often just don't get out. Then they're prey to the Eagle and wolves, coyotes or foxes.
Maybe you'd like to read my wolf poem that written in Shanty Bay.
Prior to all this, I'd spent the better part of the day driving to Amherst Island, and spent the night on the island. Not the nicest travel weather, but the afernoon, late evening and overnight was spent at The Lodge On Amherst Island. I awoke to a gorgeous sunshine bathing the island fields and the Bay's ice. Scraping the frost off the truch windows, I got to feel the sharpness of the air. It was magnificent! By the time I got onto the ferry, it seemed like a summer morning. I had my hat off, my gloves off, and I stood and looked off the stern of the ferry. Only the swilling water pushing ice chunks under ice chunks, and the lack of leaves on trees made me feel the winter. Ah, but the kayaks will be out soon enough, from their cacoon of snow.
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25/02/2008 |
Finally, I moved my vehicle, after having it sit for two weeks. I went to the Big Town to pick up some of my groceries. I had to do my little job at McDonald's Corners, and get back to the island for a celebration. It made for a quick stopoff at each spot, and then a quick shower and off to the celebration.
It was the kind of celebration where we had a few new people to meet, some old friends and neighbours, and of course, music was part of the scene. One of our local recording artists was there, and he and his wife did a duet with voice, piano, guitar. Wonderful. As one might expect, though, the size of the soundboard of a grand piano dwarfs the soundboard of the guitar, so it did slightly overwhelm the guitar. I was asked to do a few numbers as well.
Next day was the Heritage Festival, for which I'd been booked to sing at. A nice early drive to Arden Ontario put me at the site. Early. So, I headed a little further along the road, as Arden has no venues except the Legion hall, and they didn't have any offerings at that hour. I headed to Kaladar. Here I read some CD labels and a newspaper clipping that were on the restaurant counter. A local guy, about 60 ish has been producing a whack ofo homegrown gospel cds and he's sold like hundreds and hundreds. He writes and records his own songs and performs them, with a group of competent musicians, at any local venues. Now, don't forget, when I say "competent" musicians, around here, that easily takes in some of the very cream of the crop Canadian musicians. Never underestimate local talent.
Well, I sat down, and noticed the lady at the next table, on whick sat a red hat, with the name of a local music store. I mean, this is a back woods music store. Shortly thereafter I met the man who owns the hat, and he's the artist/singer/songwriter. By the way, I think we should all try to support these small retail outlets. When you pass by a music store in Eastern Ontario's hinterland, stop in. Talk about the local music scene, and buy a pick, a pack of strings, or something. You'll help keep our economy going, and hey - new people. Maybe you'll find out about a local jam or concert.
I met David Gill that day, too. David lives in Ottawa and has been really involved with the effort to resist a uranium mine going into eastern Ontario. He conceived of the idea of a canoe trip to Ottawa along the Mississippi. He organized it and participated in every aspect of it. We got some press fro that huge logistical effort of his. Thanks David. He shared a mug of beer with me in Arden. Thanks for that too, David.
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20/02/2008 |
This ill health thingie is hangin' on, but hey, it gives you an appreciation of the good times, right? I've gone out to bring in firewood, and done one little walkie.
The road here is plowed back so that we now have fairly high banks at the roadside. Makes exiting your driveway a little more precarious, especially if the mouth of the drive is slick. If someone's coming down the main road at even a moderate speed, and you kick out of your drive quickly, trying to keep momentum, well ... just picture it.
Anyway, the other night was sparkly-skied. Glistening ice coated the road surface. I wore my ever-faithful traction thingies on my shoes. I wear them when I run, mostly. A few years ago I used to run the whole island, then return on the same route. Sometimes I'd slip on the snow or ice, or because of the rough surface caused by the rocks under the snow. More times than enough my head would be just a breath away from some box-cornered rock. Other times, I'd take a full-speed fall while on the roadway, and land on my hip. That was an extremely painful way to land. It was as if someone had driven the hib ball into the socket and fused it there. I had months of pain from those falls.
These clingy-thingies have made a big difference, but I also don't run the whole island in those conditions, because you could be days and nights in the cold before people found you. Likely the friendly wolves would investigate you, lying vulnerably there. No thanks.
I sometimes would be put out of commission by something else. Like I was out of the running for months because of some poorly aimed foot-fall. I'd twist, and not run for a long while. There was the time I bought some very costly runners at a really reputable outdoor store, only to find they were absolute agony. Seems they were canted the wrong way for my feet. Those put me out of the running for, like, a year, before I tried again. Every day's a lesson eh? I try to ask myself every day "What did you learn today?"
I precede that with an audible expression of what a "beautiful day". Sometimes I answer the phone that way, and the other party just start laughing. But, man, if you look out through a clear window, you can see the beauty of a glum forecast. A heavy snowfall, a heavy rain, it's all good.
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14/02/2008 |
AWE, Shucks!
I've got a nasty little cold, and I know where I got it.
Did the radio thing yesterday. Went well. Riding the ferrie across the St Lawrence in the winter is something else. The clatter of ice pounding against the steel hull, set to the drone of the big engine, is more like a high-volume white noise, and we're not talking about rock music here. I've had probably about fifteen people in the last couple of days, asking for a CD. I don't have one. Now what musician today doesn't? Shoulda done it years ago, I guess. Never too late, they say?
Near the bend in February. February thaw should happen soon, then March is when we start feeling really itchy, and maybe put the kayaks in and go paddling. The roar of the rapids here at the island is our constant background. It just gets louder in the spring when the 800 meters turns to class five/six. Right now, it's pretty loud. Probably the loudest winter rapid sounds we've heard in a long time.
A neighbour saw a wolf the other day, and Lynda saw 5 bald eagles in a group. I left this blog so long I forget what else I saw since my last entry. But life's always interesting.
Just thought I'd mention that 99% of the graphics on my site is home grown. This one sort of reflects what it's like to ride with a bio-pade sprocket, which I do. Yuk.
Don't forget to bring your bicycle up when you come.)
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07/02/2008 |
Still sluggin' the firewood in every day.
Got some bookings already for summer kayak adventures.
The big storm yesterday, ice and snow, broke my radio gig, so it's booked for another date.
Somebody's aluminum boat is on the loose. Well, actually, it's drifted down the open water, and hung up on the ice jam. I might go to see if I can rope it and pull it to shore, but it looks really bow heavy, probably loaded with ice, and it would be too hard to haul back with just my kayak, and using a rope to tow.
Jake the Wonder Dog went honkin' after some deer yesterday, and he took a bath. In and out in a flash ... this time. I don't know how you let him know the ice is not great out there. Anyway, after that he did venture out on the water (ice) but this time he only went so far. He may have learned his lesson about cold water.
Jake's lesson is sometimes the way we kayakers learn our lessons. I've chased kayaks after I've had to bail out of them, in winter conditions.
Even though I was in my prime, and did some weight and road work, I learned something. I had to wade across an indent of the river, to get further downstream to intercept my rogue kayak. It was one of the first kevlar/epoxy kayaks made here. Nice boat. A race boat. A thin boat. A Prijon design. Anyway, I had to get ahead of it. Crossing the pool, I could feel some very sharp pains in my chest. I guess I was working on the edge.
I got the boat. Another time, while rescueing at a downriver race, someone stole my brand-new, Kober kayak paddle. I had it brought back to me from Germany by the Canadian National Team. I'd only used it once or twice. The worst of it is that it probably was liberated by some kid who didn't know the value of it, and probably had no idea of the cost, or its rarity. It had a blend of woods, including willow. Never saw it again. Every day's a lesson.
LOCATION ( how to Adventure Agent at Snow Road Station - from Wherever. )
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04/02/2008 |
I spent more time scuplpting my guitar saddle, to improve intonation and playability. I'm thankful for this. It's a great way to get to know your instrument. You motorcycle riders understand that. It's like checking your fork oil and the tripple clamps, the clearance of the disk brakes, and polishing the brake pistons. It's all the details that go together to make taking to the road the flying experience it can be.
I'm going to go to a council meeting in the next days, to help improve access for kayak and canoe paddlers. We're hoping that with an improved launch facility, humble as it may be, that kayak and canoe paddlers will come to experience our region. As one of the poorest districts in the province of Ontario, we sure appreciate tourists. We want to make your experience to be all it can be. In fact, we hope you have such a great time that you'll become our neighbours.
First, though, if you need some skills to help you get started, or to improve your paddling experience, you probably won't find a better place to go than to me, for that special, impassioned love of teaching how to paddle canoe or kayak. I hope we see you soon.
I'm going to be doing a couple of hours of radio work in the next few days, too, so, hey, I'm keeping busy.
- Dave Martin
Adventure Agent.net |
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01/02/2008 |
The river is in flood. Ice covers most of the Mississippi, so it doesn't look like it's in flood. No flood warnings have been issued, but we were advised by newspaper articles from the Mississippi Valley Conservation Authority that the waters are now receding. But this isn't the only indicator. My own observations are an indication of the river's pulse. I've commented before about the stretches of open water this year. Old-timers, who've spent their lives here, are saying they've never seen the river like this before. Even places like Dalhousie Lake are affected enough that casual observers can see the change from other years.
The City of Kingston is at the St. Lawrence River, and yesterday I was there. All conversations were about the coming snow storm, for today, February 1, and the thirty centimeters of snow we are supposed to get. That means I'll park my vehicle near the road again, so I'll be able to get out without unnecessary digging. Even though I have had a four-wheel drive vehicle for the last few years, this driveway proves itself to be a tricky one. I've spun sideways several times on it, with various 4-wheel drives. Just a couple of days ago, two 4x4 pickups came in, and they each had troubles on this drive. Invariably the plow, another 4-wheel drive vehicle, with heavy treaded tires, with the extra weight of a big sand hopper on the back adding traction, had troubles. It's just a funky spot.
It's no wonder that my dreams are of kayaks drifting and cruising the Mississippi River.
Adventure Agent.net |
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29/01/2008 |
Yesterday was sunny and bright, with nice temperatures. Took a drive to Westport and Newboro to look at various furniture outlets. The last week or so has had nights that were bright as daylight, it seemed. While the moon wasn’t full, the whole time, it sure illuminated the area. Just gorgeous, looking out into the moonlit wilds.
I worked on a few songs again. I’m trying to perfect my patterns for certain songs. A change in guitar neck width and curvature make it seem almost like re-learning from scratch. Add to that a few key changes, and bravo, you’ve got some work to do. Especially in the “jazz chord” area. It totally alters the timbre of the voice, but as well, it drastically affects where you’re playing on the guitar’s neck. For those who aren’t guitar players (and who isn’t?), the spaces get narrower between those little metal bars on the guitar neck, so you have to squeeze fingers into tighter spaces. This guitar’s neck is about one sixteenth of an inch narrower than I’m used to, so I have to alter my spanning on both plains. That affects how much leverage you have, and that affects how much muscle strength you have to apply.
Now, if you want to play well, you have to customize your own guitar, so it plays well for your particular strength, finger thickness etc. So you have to change the height of the strings from the fingerboard. That means you have to remove the strings, and then remove the white piece of bone called “the saddle” (don’t ask me why – the saddle sits on a “bridge” – don’t ask me why).
Changing how far from the neck the strings are, is affected by the height of the saddle. The saddle has to be a perfect copy of the shape of the fret board. But … it is much wider than the fret board. So there’s a challenge to carve this just right. And various materials affect how the sound transfers to the soundboard of the guitar, so you have to have a few spares to work on.
The sound of each string has to be just right when you press it at any point up the neck. Since the distance changes from one end of the neck to the next, it takes more pressure to push it to the fret board. That means more stretch, and so the tighter the string, the higher the pitch. This means the saddle has to be carved “just right” for each string.
At the other end of the guitar, there’s a white piece of material, and it’s called the “nut” (don’t ask me why). This can affect how hard it is to play, as well. So you may want to carve this “just right” as well. If you deepen the slots for the strings, they’re easier to press, and make for better speed. But the closer the strings are to the guitar neck, the less volume you get, so it’s going to be hard to be heard with several other instruments playing.
If you cut one notch too deep, you have to change all the rest to match. And to do a proper job, you have to shave or carve the nut so that only about half of the string is in the slot. The rest is above the nut. Changing the slot depth is a real challenge, because just a few strokes too much and you’ve out. Then you go get another piece of bone and start all over again.
So, I’ve spent quite some time trying to adjust this guitar to play just right. I have a faint “rattle” on a string or two (not everyone hears it), and that means I’ll likely have to file the whole fret board. Another fine tuning job where you have to do the job just right.
That’s just a little insight into what it’s like to live in the bush. When you jam with the local folks, you had better be good. And if you want to be good, you’d better pay attention to your instrument – where you store it, how much heat and humidity, and its “playability”, refered to as “action”.
Now, we men generally aren’t favoured with the fine-movement and dexterity of women, so you can appreciate that we have to spend much time with our instruments to achieve our goals. This is why country music is so alive in rural areas. But, man, those jam sessions are such a social event. I guess, too, that it’s part of the male psyche to bunch up with others for a short while of co-ordinating with each other for some result. Kinda like the old hunting instinct. So, to you women out there, maybe this tells you why we men are so involved with the simple music of the guitar. There’s maybe much more to it than just saying “I play guitar”. It’s a passion, and mostly, it’s a guy passion. Yeah!
I used to actually portage a heavy guitar and case into some out-of-the-way spots. I'd mount the case on the back of the kayak, and it had to be on edge. But it was like adding a sail to the kayak. It was a very exclusive, hand made guitar, so I didn't do it more than a couple of times. A canoe is no problem for transporting a guitar. But the kayak is another matter. - Dave Martin
Adventure Agent.net |
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25/01/2008 |
4 a.m. A deer is chewing on the Christmas tree. I trimmed some trees, and part of one became a Christmas tree that got hung with lights. Placed on the deck, it seems to be still in good heath. Although we're surrounded by thousands of acres of trees, it seemed a shame to just burn this tree. Now this tree is serving as fodder for the wild creatures. We did wonder who was after the bird feeder seed. Bears aren't out of the den yet, so that was unlikely. Mind you, there's a couple of big punctures in one of the garbage cans from the curiosity of a bear a couple of years ago, and hey, with this weather? You never know when the bears are going to wake up these days. Perhaps the deer have been raiding the tiny birds' storehouse. We didn't see tracks near the feeder though. - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net |
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23/01/2008 |
Last night a flock of 18 deer came trippin' on by. Single column, along the frozen shore, one after the other. You could see them skirting the far shore, then arcing around the spot which, just days before had been black water. A while later you could see them heading back. Some were just shuffling, some were bounding. This morning they were on the ice, all bunched up in a big circle, as though someone had called a meeting, and they were waiting for a particular member to arrive so they could carry on. So it goes, day be day here. Lot's of wildlife. I haven't been to the turkey roost recently. My morning jogs usually don't reveal much, but the other week there was a pack of wolves bragging back in the bush. One time I surprised a big porky, ambling along. I had to make a fair ruckus to get hem to move on over so I could jog by.
You'd think that all water would have frozen during that last brief chill, but no, there's some long stretches of open water, going down through the glade.
Still, the sunshine was making this a super day. But I spent most of this day altering the intonation, action, and then putting in a strap pin. Of course, then I had to alter my guitar strap too. Then there was re-configuring and programming the Zoom and adjusting the accoustic amp. I think tomorrow I'll do more chainsaw work outside. I keep trimming and cutting to improve the views.
Link to our kayak trails from our bike trail suggestions on our website. And don't froget we offer help moving your vehicles and gear when you need it, whether it's kayak, canoe, bike, hike, or ski touring. - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net |
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21/01/2008 |
Still minus 20 something. Jake's staying down on the hearth. He feels like a great big heat-sink. He just faces the glass door and soaks in the heat. In the evenings, it's hard to tell that this black dog is there, what with the backlighting of the golden, flickering firelight against the dark stove and black hearth. Alter ego: Jake the Fire Dog.
Sometimes it's hard to remember the romance of a woodfire. I hand split a transport truckload of hard maple a couple of years ago. All that wood is really heavy to lift into position to split. Then you have to pick up each chunk and load it into a barrow, and wheel this top-heavy, tippy thing up a stoney, bouncey hill, to near the house. Then you have to stack it neatly so it can dry. And it has to be piled smart, so air and sun can do the job, and yet not get much rain on it. When I'd finished, the pile covered the space of about six parked cars. All physical labour.
Come the burn season, you have to dig it out of the pile, one piece at a time, put it into the barrow and move it to near the house. Next thing is to carry each piece up the stairs and into the house. Then you neatly stack it near, but not TOO near to the stove.
Then, too, packing the wood into the stove is actually quite an interesting chore. It's kind of like a jigsaw puzzle, but a well-built fiewood supply in the stove means less opening of the door all day. That's how you get an all-day burn from the stove. But you have to carefully monitor it for the first long while.
The added benefit of a woodstove back here in the woods is that it makes a great slow-cooker surface, and you can also do some boiling or frying. So that's more or less what my daily routine is: Get up, empty the ashes out of the stove, carry them away from the house, and put them in a metal can. We use that for traction if ever we're slipping in the driveway, and it happens enough. Recycle, re-use. In early spring the ash blends into the soil and duff. Fertilizer. That's the every day life that most folks don't get to see.
There's a lot behind that image of the relaxed country life in front of a wood fire. But when I'm dreaming in the heat of the woodstove, visons of kayaks dance in my head.
 Unless I'm modifying my guitar. But that's a whole other story, as they say. - Adventure Agent.net
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20/01/2008 |
About minus 22 this morning. But Jake, the Flying Dog, flew off the deck as though it was spring. Either a Fisher of an otter loped across the ice this morning. A haze of mist rose from the chilly waters, making spring seem hesitant to come. But just in the last couple of days I've been seriously contemplating gettin out on the water. There were some long stretches of open water down through the glade and elsewhere. But other places, where I could see the rapids, it looks like kayaks would not be on the water, because there is still a terminal cover of ice at the top and bottom of the runs. Yet, it seems we're having a spring water level. But no-one advised of pending flooding, and on the Snye, no water is on top of the ice.
But today is a gorgeous, sunny day, with snow-frosted cedars basking in a golden day.
Yesterday I jammed with the local bluegrass wizard in his store. Then I went to Lanark and played for a few hours. Everyone was complaining about painful fingers. Mr Jackson, one of the area elite fiddlers, had his chin brace fall off his fiddle. It wasn't long til it was squealing with joy again, though. - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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14/01/2008 |
Wow! Several days of varying weather: hot, cold, rain, snow. Right now the river's open in places. Any access points I checked seemed to be frozen still, or have open water stretches that make it too short a run. Gone are the days when I used to paddle barefoot in a tight little whitewater boat untill the boat hit the closing ice. Then I'd track across the corn-snow to the next open water. Cold, yes, and the corn snow was like sandpaper on the sole of my feet.
I often think of Jake the flying dog, and how he bravely and boldly goes out onto the frigid ice and snow without hesitation.
Otters are the only things moving about these days, it seems. Music jams have been wonderful. Man, what a truckload of talent. And the best part is that they're all rural folks. Speaking of that, there was a special event at the local snowmobile clubhouse. A celebration / remembrance of the ice storm, ten years ago. My neighbour's band, North of Seven Country Band was the host band. - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net Martin
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08/01/2008 |
It's more like a Currier and Ives painting that reality today. The mist in the air, lightened by scattered daylight is like an film of white over everything. Just gorgeous. With these conditions, there's less traffic on the roads, so there's an unusual quiet all about. Still, the 800 metre rapids send their steady sound, and it seems to be the only sound there is right now. While flood conditions are advised for Ontario, I expect that the raceway will intensivy soon, to become more of a deep-throated roar. If that sound doesn't drive a whitewater kayaker crazy, I don't know what would. A poem that describes such a dream.- Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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07/01/2008 |
Sometimes it's hard to remember that our regional population is 1.4 persons per square kilometre. We're mostly trees, rock, water and wildlife. What better way to see it than from the seat of a kayak, with a good guide? Or maybe you'd rather cut it on your own. There's a real reward in solo paddling if you've got the skills and attitude.
Think this is some foreign shore? This is in Frontenac County Ontario
I had to take my wilderness care course with the Canadian Armed Forces in the last couple of years. That was an experience.
Mind you, it was not much different than getting my latest Instructor Certification up at Georgian Bay. That was cold water, and we had to do a lot of exercises in pretty chilly water in the spring. But I got those kayak Certifications that allow me to teach anywhere in Canada.
But, come to think of it, getting my Whitewater Kayak Instructor Certification was pretty interesting too. I did that on some of the heaviest rapids in North America, Canada's own Ottawa River.
Hey, kayak paddling is my passion, and it dovetails quite nicely into my love of this country we call Canada, and our splendid wilderness and wildlife. I love to share it.
Here's my poem about paddling in a group.- Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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06/01/2008 |
Another fine day of weather, capped off by an evening event at an island home. The setting of a log home at the head of the rapids is hard to improve upon. The real treasure though, is the people. It's these open homes that make this the community it is - rural Canada at its best.
On the way we saw the feathers of a large bird in the snow. I'm not certain what it is. Tomorrow, if I remember, I'll check it out. But maybe some hungry creature will dine on it and the feathers will be all strewn about. Could be a turkey, but I'd say it's too small. More like a hawk of some sort. Maybe even a grouse, but it wasn't grey enough.
The air is heavy with mist, as the frigid and rigid water chills the moist air. It's near the freeze mark. When I got home, the wood stove's heat felt like it was roastin hot. I think it's just the high humidity. But pilots tell you to believe your instruments. My humidifier says we're at 50%, which is pretty good for my guitar. I put on new strings, gave it a little polishing of the fretboard and bridge and tuned 'er up. We're ready to go!- Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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04/01/2008 |
Whoa !
Who knows where the time goes? Seems like only yesterday we were in December, and here we are, already near the end of the first week of 2008. Jake the flying dog has been somewhat constrained by the deep snow that buried his usual pathways into the bush and to the water's edge.
Today I cut another big tree, limbed it, cut it into 8 foot lengths, and piled the branches. Maybe the deer will like this pile, as well as the otthers.
Along with a large number of like-sized logs, these logs may end up being a rustic fenceline. I've been pondering extending the rail fence I put in a couple of years ago. But this won't be split rails, it'll be just round log rails, and maybe with a different support system. I try to use any materials I get. Or it sometimes becomes winter heat.
We have a slope off the back side of the house, but it was littered with great bits of rock that were skilled at grabbing the unsuspecting foot and surprising its owner. Last spring I used a pry bar and a lot of muscle to dig out a meter-long by 1/3 meter thick rock. Then I similarly pried it into place, set it on edge, and set it as the headstone, so to speak, of the rock wall that marks the edge of the path to the kayaks. I built that too, in the spring last year, and covered the path with nice cedar shavings that extended from the house to the river and along the lower trail I'd built.
Along with the greyed cedar gazebo we now have, the lower side of the place looks relatively inviting now. It's a pleasure to go down there.
Just before the snow settled in, I built a fire ring too. I laid a bed of gravel, topped it with a layer of nice flat field stone, and set some larger rocks as the actual perimeter. The gravel extends well beyond the fire ring.
Oh, yeah. Then I also had cut some nice cedar logs in half lengthwise. These are going to be crude benches for sitting around a fire (link here to find out when they're banned.) - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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01/01/2008 |
What a beautiful day! Fresh snow has fallen, my fresh-baked bread is on the porch cooling. A large wild turkey paraded around the house.
I took my cross-country skiis out for a few more laps and descents. The old Alfa boots are broken but still usable. We have much in common, the Alfas and me.
Our annual Highlands celebration took place. Some folks reported up to 24 turkies on their lot. This evening the trees were an eerie web against the greying, fading-light sky. Wild turkies flew from their roost as we trod home through the settling dusk. They could easily have been turkey vultures or eagles. The Vultures have gone for the winter, but the eagle was spotted just days ago on the ice, fishing at the black water edge. Several otters played in the pool of pitch. Mississippi Ramble - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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31/12/2007 |
New Year's countdown beginning ... I hope you're with the one you love. - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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30/12/2007 |
Mild weather again. The Christmas-card scene has slightly changed. Snow has dissolved from the trees and just makes it seem more like kayaking season is near. But it isn't. It's not even January. The yaks sit on their cedar log mounts, all draped with snow, which is punctured by the cloven feet of the deer who yesterday dined there. As I look out the window, Jake, our 20 pound guard dog, is going a little crazy. He's spotted another deer in the yard. Just beyond the kayaks and the deer is a large wild turkey. This is the first time I've seen a wild turkey on the river. We often see them in droves of up to 15 or so in the fields, and woods. This deer is causing havoc in Jake's blood. The deer is so casual about parading past the kayak dock and just off-shore. It's an everyday occurance, but every day's a new day, isn't it? I never tire of seeing the deer. - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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28/12/2007 |
Like every day here, it's a beautiful morning. Snow-clad trees are part of the Krieghoff image playing out at the river. A herd of twelve deer paraded across the river last night. I was twenty feet up in a tree, trimming branches when I saw them. I piled the cedar branches so they could come and browse. At dawn they had cleaned every last twig of its green.
It's not even 2008 yet, and we're already getting enquiries about the coming season. I'm so glad there are kindred spirits out there. Thanks for your interest.
Another thing that happens around here is our sensational music mosaic. In a week or so we start a new season of jams. Bluegrass, old country, folk and celtic music. I'm looking forward to the bluegrass one just up the road. Some thirty players get together, and it's not a din, either. Another is south of here, with ten to fifteen players. Autoharp, fiddle, bass, guitar, harmonicas. And coming up, there's those heaven-struck, special concerts and events that are world-class, but only a select crowd of people know about. - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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26/12/2007 |
Christmas has come and gone, but the afterglow lingers. Sunny weather, mild temperature, and a mellow, satisfied feeling is in the air. Chickadees flit near the window, and a huge piliated woodpecker hammers at the big hemlock.
It won't be long 'til the river's open and we'll paddle again. It's aquiet life back here in the hills. Almost too quiet. We miss the visits of people from afar; the tourists who come and share a bit of their personna, and revel in our special place here at Snow Road Station. - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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DEC 24 2007 |
T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Whoever said that wasn't at Snow Road last night. The wind was roaring out of the southwest. Jake, the flying dog, was all set to chase deer or whatever may be. The full moon lit up the snow with flourescent light. Shadows of trees were sharp-edged onto the paper-like backdrop of snow. The kayaks lay under the blanket of deep snow that had fallen just days before. And sleep was elusive, this Christmas Eve, not because of the excitement of gifts to be opened next day.
But every day, I look out at that frozen river, and dream of the short months ahead, when I'll again be teaching, trip leading and guiding for Adventure Agent, my kayak tour business. - Dave Martin Adventure Agent.net
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