Larry Gibbons
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Escapees

31/1/2016

1 Comment

 
Picture
Wreck Cove, Cape Breton
Wow! Blog number fifty! Woo-hoo! Hard to believe I’ve managed to stay with this blog writing endeavour. And, maybe even more surprisingly, that Sue has managed to hang in there and continue editing and submitting my fifty blogs to the blogosphere. Is there a medal for that?

Now I know some bloggers write a blog almost every day, but for me, fifty is a satisfying number and maybe that’s why I like the colour of the fifty-dollar bill. I might like the colour of the one hundred-dollar bill, but I’ve never spotted one. Maybe they're extinct.

***
About three weeks ago, four of us snowshoed on the Skyline trail. It was a blustery wintry Sunday. The snow was blowing itself dizzy and it didn’t look like it was going to get any better. Furthermore, the Skyline trail is located on top of a mountain, a sure recipe for down home snow trouble. However, we all travelled in some mighty fine four-by-four machines so I wasn’t too worried.

We parked our vehicles next to a brand new emergency station. This little building has a land-line phone, a wood stove, a bench or two and a goodly amount of firewood. I have, at other times in my life, attempted to get trapped in one of these emergency mountain accommodations, just so my partner and I would be forced to share the hut overnight with only a little food, a large bottle of champagne and some big ideas.

Picture
Emergency Hut
Anyway, we had plenty of snow on which to snowshoe to one of the most beautiful lookouts in the world.

But first, we had to pass a little washroom. Which always causes us to stop for a few seconds of silence. For it was here some hikers came upon a woman lying on the ground, bleeding and very close to death. Standing on her was a coyote. The hikers had shouted and thrown all kinds of things at the coyote while the coyote remained reluctant to flee his or her takeout. He did scram off eventually, but, sadly, left the woman critically injured. Apparently she was able to whisper her name before she died. A sad tragedy and a clear warning to never take wildlife for granted.

One of the characteristics of the Skyline trail is that a hiker has about an eighty percent chance of seeing a moose or two. One hiker with us had never been on this trail and he was looking forward to seeing a moose. He was hoping to get a photo of one.

Well, not too far in, we all saw a moose run across the trail in front of us. None of us was camera ready, but we all did see the moose and we all laughed and joked about how nobody had their camera or cell phone ready for the ‘BIG MOOSE PICTURE’.

About halfway down the trail is a huge, fenced-in area with two gigantic gates. This barrier protects acres and acres of land where they plan on planting about 50,000 trees. The moose have devastated the forest in this part of the highlands.

We entered through a tall gate and walked to the other end, where we exited by another tall gate. It felt like being in Jurassic Park, so I stopped snowshoeing for a brief time, and imagined feeling the vibrations of gigantic moose dinosaur feet stomping outside our fenced-in refuge. I have a vivid imagination.

At the look-out we couldn’t look out. There was nothing to see but gray snow-filled emptiness. So, as the wind attempted to gain entry to our bare skin and we bundled up tighter than ever, we ate a quick snack. Eventually, it got so blizzardy we could hardly see twenty feet in front of us. So we headed back. The snow settled down once we got into the forest.

                                  Out where the winding foot-path goes,
                          Out by the singing rill,
                          Out to the edge of mystery
                          And the land beyond the hill.
                                                Henry Holcomb Bennett, Adventure

Picture
Visibility Nil
The funniest incident of this venture involved a hiker taking a selfie. He had those huge, one plate of glass, ski goggles which look a little like a skin diver’s mask. Actually, they’re quite a bit like "beer goggles", (Google it!), except when you look through them, everything is clear, and no female or male hikers can be mistaken for the prettiest or handsomest persons in the whole wide world, bar none, until you sober up, anyway.

The goggle wearer likes to do the selfie photo thing. This is now a very big fad. He took out his cell phone and pointed it at his face while we all stood behind him. As he took a picture of his own face, which he probably sees a lot of in the mirror, a moose chose to cross the road.

Why did the moose cross the road anyway? So he could get to the other side and give the chicken a pointer or two.

What a laugh! What a hoot! Wally getting a picture of the wrong face! But, this is what happens on these hikes and makes them so much fun.

More interesting still, if you look carefully at the picture, which I have included, you might see a strange reflection in the fella’s goggles. Doesn’t it look like a moose?

Picture
Check out the goggles...
***
A week later I went snowshoeing up by Wreck Cove, God’s country, as one fella put it. I, however, replied that when I am skiing on our road and I stop to take a long gander at the mountains and the snow blowing around their crowns, I think that where I live is also quite godly.

Now, I should note that I didn't group hike often when I was in Ontario, but because I’m not as familiar with Cape Breton trails and because there are a plenty of big critters around here and the terrain is much rougher than where I used to hike, I now often go on group hikes.

And, as if to remind me that it wasn’t a bad idea to be with other hikers, a coyote crossed the road in front of us as we drove to the trail head. Let me tell you, this was one healthy looking coyote. I’ve seen coyotes in Ontario and they’re not as big as this one. He was more the size of a wolf and I’ve been told these coyotes run in packs, the same as wolves. I believe they call these Cape Breton canines, coy-wolves.

Last summer I met a fella on his favourite bridge over a section of the Middle River. He told me he’d had to fight a coyote off. The coyote had been quite determined and had tried different tactics to get himself a finger-licking good meal. Luckily, this fella won the battle or he’d not have been around to tell his tale.
 
Anyway, there were about fifteen hikers assembling at the trailhead while four dogs excitedly scampered amongst our pack of humans as we prepared to head up the mountain. They obviously couldn’t wait for the hike to begin.

But alas, on the porch, was a poor, sad, large German shepherd type of dog. He, apparently, wasn’t allowed to go on the hike. He was howling and crying and barking and tearing back and forth across his verandah jail cell. Poor dog. Poor, poor dog and that’s what everyone was thinking. And partway up the mountain, we could still hear his sad cries of abandonment.

Speaking of up the mountain, it was up the mountain that the THING happened. The event happened. The whatever you want to call it happened. Things happen to me. It’s my tagline.

I was climbing up a fairly steep grade. I was at the tail end of the lead group, but behind me, quite far behind me, were the slowpokes.

Up, up and away I went, until, at some point, I looked down at my right foot, and lo and behold, I saw there was no snowshoe to behold.

I dropped to the ground and started digging in the snow with my ski pole. I dug and dug, as if I was looking for an avalanche victim, while the hiking party ahead of me disappeared into the forest. I dug some more and there was still no snowshoe to be found. I was a little embarrassed, because the THING had happened to me and nobody else.

I surmised that it might have come off further down the mountain. Hadn’t I realized that my snowshoe had fallen off? Apparently not. This is what other hikers and folks to whom I’ve told this tale have asked me. “Didn’t you realize your snowshoe was missing?”

“No sir. No ma'am. It was the THING that came with me and I never know where the hell it’ll show up. This incident happened and I didn’t know it happened until when it became a THING.”

I think this part of the blog might confuse you and my editor, bless her heart. 

(Note from Ed: "No surprise to me!")

Anyway, I stopped and looked down the mountain. Oh god, how far down had it fallen off my footsie without my noticing it? Then suddenly I hearkened to the sound of a voice. A voice further down the mountain. The voice said, “Surely they’ll miss it eventually?”

The eventually had arrived. I shouted that it was I who had lost his snowshoe. Ha, ha, ha. And as they were all filled with mirth and laughter, guess who blew by me, sans snowshoes, and as happy as a flea on a grizzly bear? The German shepherd escapee. He was making up for lost time.

Near the end of the hike, as I walked along the Cabot Trail, snowshoes in hand, I saw a small barn. In front of the barn was a horse. I wasn’t going to take a photo of the horse until who should pop his head out of the barn entrance, but a small goat.

Now this goat had personality and even from the fair distance I was standing from the barn I could tell he was the boss. Why, it looked like the goat was saying, “Horse, what are you gawking at?  Do you know that fella with the bushy beard? Do you have some business with him? Stand back, I’ll deal with it.”

I just had to take their picture. So I did.

Picture
Goat, Horse and Dog Escapee
Later on, the owner of the horse, the goat and the escapee German shepherd, told us that her horse gets super lonely if the goat wanders off. The goat seems to keep him calm and happy. She also explained another thing. Most horses feel better if there is a goat around. For example, if a horse is going to race and his goat friend isn’t around, the horse gets all upset and will probably lose the race. She said, “that’s where the phrase, ‘He got my goat’ comes from.”

Now isn’t that interesting?

I will sign off now and wait for the THING. It’s the THING that has helped me write fifty blogs. He or she is a rather speculative fella so I’m not evicting the THING any time soon.  Not even if I could, because I have a thing for the THING.


          My modus operandi this--
                      To take no heed of what’s amiss
                                              And not a bad one:
                      Because as Shakespeare used to say
                      A merry heart goes twice the way
                                              That tires a sad one.

                          Ellen Thorneycroft Fowler, The Wisdom Of Folly


Picture
View of Cabot Trail from Skyline Look-off
1 Comment

A Piece of Cake

4/1/2016

0 Comments

 
Picture
Our local Hermit's house
Have you ever heard the phrase, ’It’ll be a piece of cake,’ Or something similar to that? I’m sure you have and those sentiments, if translated into proper English, really mean, ‘It’s going to drive you near crazy’.

An example... and of course I’m going to give an example. I mean, what’s the use of writing a blog if I don’t give examples? Right?

Okay. My satellite receiver was acting up. I had no proper guide, I couldn’t get my remote to up and down some channels, about every third power on the satellite wouldn’t kick in and so on and so on and so on.

What I did is what most people would do. I phoned the satellite supplier company representative. And he told me, after I’d explained that I’d already followed their soft off and hard off instructions, that they would send me a new receiver. “Just follow the simple instructions when you receive the receiver,” he said.

Translated, that means, ‘It’ll be a piece of cake’.

Yes, sir. I will certainly do that. I will follow the instructions like some Christian politicians follow the Ten Commandments.

The receiver arrived in a big box which I picked up at the Post Office. I brought it home, but didn’t open it for a few days. Why didn’t I open it for a few days? Because I knew, in my heart of hearts, that this was not going to be a piece of cake. Stay tuned.

***
One dreary Saturday morning I decided that this was the time. This was the magic moment to open the box, read the instructions, follow the necessary edicts and get this thing done. Fini.

So, I did. One of the simple directives was for me to phone a rep, so they could get the receiver up and running. They’d turn the key so to speak. Give it the boot.

So, I did that. I did phone them and talk to them. Well, not really. What I did was listen to a computer voice, who didn’t have to worry about being monitored ‘for quality purposes’. And, of course, I pushed a multitude of buttons and more multitudinous buttons until I got to an instruction that shook the confidence out of my Stanfield undergarments.

This is what it was. This is not an exact quote, but it does describe the spirit of the instructions. “Please make sure you are able to be close to your television set before you talk to a living, breathing representative.”

I hung up at this point. Because our phone was in the bedroom and the television and its connection to the big pie plate on our pole which is connected to the satellites that whir around the world was in the living room. You see, our phone cord was only about twelve feet long. Our television would be about forty feet away. I would have to have X-ray vision or some kind of periscope thing to see the television. Also, I don’t think the remote would work from that distance.
Picture
What to do? What to do?

What I did do was put twenty-five bucks on my cell phone. Our area has, just recently, received cell phone coverage, so that was an option.

While I was phoning the magic number on my cell phone I began to worry about the being put on hold thing. Almost guaranteed, because it’s quite obvious that I would surely be put on hold and then I would have to use up my precious cell phone time while I waited for the heavenly guidance.

But guess what? I wasn't put on hold because they had this neat feature. If I pressed one, it would allow me to hang up and they would get back to me when a representative was available. Neato.

So, I did and a short time later the cell phone rang and I answered it. And it was them. Glory, hallelujah!

A woman, sounding like she may never have seen snow, was very polite and began to gently guide me. I did what she told me to do and it didn’t work. I did some more of what she told me to do and that didn’t work and all the time I could hear my cell phone going, tick, tick, tick.

At some point she told me to take the card out of my receiver. I didn’t know what she was talking about. She explained that there is a card in my receiver and she helped me find it. I took it out and we did some more pushing of buttons as I sat in front of the television set with my cell phone clutched in my sweaty little hand and with my arm beginning to ache. Which caused me to switch to the other arm.

Anyway, we were pretty damn close to getting the guide to work when I heard the bad news. The time on my cell phone had expired. All gone, right to the last drop. All that effort was just wasted breath and button pushing.

What to do? What to do? Sue to the rescue. She gave me her new cell phone to use. So I got her new horn to my ears and once again, phoned the proper number. However, while I was waiting for somebody to answer, Sue’s phone flashed me an important message. It was almost out of power. Not out of time, but out of power. You’ve got to love these machines. So I hung up. Which is really difficult to do with a cell phone, but you get my drift.

Picture
Sue's phone
What I did next, after having a drink of some sort, was go into the bedroom and used the phone with the fifteen-foot cord. Once again I pushed multitudinous buttons and listened to many stanzas of the same nauseating elevator song, while Ms. Computer Voice interrupted every minute or so to tell me that I should please stay on the line and a rep would soon get to me. So I did stay on the line and finally I got a rep. And she was extremely nice and also sounded like someone who’d never seen snow.

I told her, before she started giving out instructions, that I couldn’t see my television because I was in another room and my phone didn’t have a long enough cord. And by gumbo if she didn’t tell me that it was okay. Oh really? Now she tells me?

So, we began, once again, to try to nudge or convince my satellite receiver to get back on its horse while I ran back and forth.

“Do this,” she’d say, and I’d run the forty-some feet with my tiny pixel of instructions to where I could see the television, press the required buttons on my remote and then wait to see what happened on the screen.

Then I’d scramble back, with the answer tucked away in my sweaty little noggin. All the time trying not to trip over Buster who was scrambling back and forth with me. Because he was really getting into this exciting new game.

This went on for some time. The woman always patient. Sounding like a person you’d find working at a Phone-a-Saint Call Centre. While I got increasingly enervated and quite tired of the whole affair. Buster got increasingly frazzled too and decided to retreat to his chewing-my-hockey-glove activity. Which is to Buster, akin to lighting up a smoke.

Finally the representative told me she was going to have to send me a new smart card. And, when it arrived in the mail, I was to just follow the instructions and if I had any problems to just give a rep a call.

“It’s a date,” I felt like saying.

I got the new card a few days ago. It’s sitting on a shelf. I’ve read the simple instructions, but I haven’t put the card in yet because I’m afraid to.

Picture
Buster expecting rewards for services rendered
***
“Today I’m going to lecture on confusion. I’m all for it.”
                        Theodore Roethke, Words For Young Writers


***


Picture
  Because my blog is, from time to time, supposed to have some content related to the writing trade, I do occasionally try to put something in it about being a wordsmith.

When I start a blog, I usually sit in my thinking chair. It’s an old frayed cloth chair that is partially off its rocker. Anything that is partially off its rocker is a good source for this blog.

Now, I’ll show you an example of how I would begin a blog and then how I would rewrite it.

An example:
A few mornings ago, I was sitting in my chair looking out the window while watching the birds eating seeds at our bird feeders.”   There, that’s my first attempt.

Here’s my second attempt.
“A few mornings ago, I was resting my weary keister on my old rocking chair while gazing out the window at the birds dining at our bird feeders.”

Next example:
“One snowy morning, with my weary keister planted deep into my old rocking chair, I gazed out the window. Why was I looking out the window? Because I was fascinated by a mob of feathered diners at our bird feeders who were exhibiting such terrible fits of bad table manners.”

Etc., etc., etc.

Picture
Bald Eagle seen near Waycobah First Nation

Happy New Year to All!

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