WIND-BLOWN WOODS
“What we need is a single hero to uphold the defeated, a Quijote of the wind-mills, here and now, and then after we’ve thought we’ve found him, only later to see him breaking bread with the enemy, and smiling and tipping his hat as though he thought we were damn fools for believing in him, and we were.”
Charles Bukowski, Portions From a Wine-stained Notebook
Charles Bukowski, Portions From a Wine-stained Notebook
TYRANT OF THE WOODS
I did another solitary hike on the Corney Brook Trail. As I snow-shoed in, pictures of the destination danced in my head. My settling down on the wooden bench, eating my spartan lunch and lovingly gazing at the beautifully icicled falls.
However, shouldn’t I have known that the winter landscape is not a bare-trail-cake-walk? Shouldn’t I have known that the bench would be buried in hard, icy snow? That the trail would be a treacherously narrow icy forty-five degree slope? That I would have to dig my pointed snowshoes into the ice so I wouldn’t slide into the brook? Would have to put gloves under my keister to avoid future kidney or prostate side-effects?
However, shouldn’t I have known that the winter landscape is not a bare-trail-cake-walk? Shouldn’t I have known that the bench would be buried in hard, icy snow? That the trail would be a treacherously narrow icy forty-five degree slope? That I would have to dig my pointed snowshoes into the ice so I wouldn’t slide into the brook? Would have to put gloves under my keister to avoid future kidney or prostate side-effects?
VIEW FROM MICA TRAIL
And while I’m manipulating through all these precautions, I’m wondering how I would be approaching this situation if I were younger. Would I have danced on the head of an icicle?
I just don’t know.
***
A few weeks ago while we were heading to the Blueberry hiking trail, one of my hiking buddies was, unbeknownst to me, taking photos of me while I was driving.
She was amazed to find, while looking at one of the photos, that I had sprouted a belly.
Now I knew that this hiker didn’t believe that everything was fake news, didn’t believe that black was white, that oceans drain into rivers and she wasn’t into a weird Quack Up cult that believed in the coming rapture of blood-sucking pedophiliacal vampires.
So, I assumed I had a bit of a belly and decided I’d cut back on some calories.
I just don’t know.
***
A few weeks ago while we were heading to the Blueberry hiking trail, one of my hiking buddies was, unbeknownst to me, taking photos of me while I was driving.
She was amazed to find, while looking at one of the photos, that I had sprouted a belly.
Now I knew that this hiker didn’t believe that everything was fake news, didn’t believe that black was white, that oceans drain into rivers and she wasn’t into a weird Quack Up cult that believed in the coming rapture of blood-sucking pedophiliacal vampires.
So, I assumed I had a bit of a belly and decided I’d cut back on some calories.
HIKING ON MICA TRAIL
I have a theory. Actually, plenty of theories, but this one is specific to addictions. Big ones and small ones.
My theory is that any person who is addicted to a substance has inside their brain two lawyers. One who will put forth a rational argument that you should stick to your resolutions and the other lawyer who will make up arguments which will give you the feeling that it is alright to break your contracts.
My theory is that any person who is addicted to a substance has inside their brain two lawyers. One who will put forth a rational argument that you should stick to your resolutions and the other lawyer who will make up arguments which will give you the feeling that it is alright to break your contracts.
VIEW FROM LIVING ROOM WINDOW
Take me for example. I like Iced Caps. I know they are full of yummy sugar and all things not nice. So, I signed a contract with myself. My contract stipulates that I will allow myself an Iced Cap after I skate on Friday. I will also allow myself an Iced Cap on any day that I or we go to North Sydney or Sydney. The Bras D’or Tim Hortons is on our way home. It’s our treat. I order two Iced Caps while Sue hits the can and Buster yellows up the base of Tim Horton’s large sign.
Sounds simple. Right?
Sounds simple. Right?
SUE AMUSED BY POLITICAL ANTICS
Well, after I made my resolution, I found out that they’d decided to schedule public skating for Wednesday morning. No heads-up for my lawyers. This meant I had two days of morning skating between ten am and eleven-thirty am.
What was I going to do?
I decided that I would have, on Wednesday, after my skate, a real coffee. I often do this after a hike. However, coffee makes me anxious after it has sent me into high-energy euphoria. It means, therefore, that I need to have a beer or two after the coffee. My lawyers are still thrashing out this beer situation. My resolution-keeping lawyer has some suspicions about the reasons for my having a coffee in the first place.
What was I going to do?
I decided that I would have, on Wednesday, after my skate, a real coffee. I often do this after a hike. However, coffee makes me anxious after it has sent me into high-energy euphoria. It means, therefore, that I need to have a beer or two after the coffee. My lawyers are still thrashing out this beer situation. My resolution-keeping lawyer has some suspicions about the reasons for my having a coffee in the first place.
ANOTHER VIEW FROM MICA TRAIL
Anyway, I planned to have a decent cup of real coffee after my Wednesday skate and deal with the after-results when I got home. I would not have an Iced Cap. No sir.
So, after my skate on Wednesday, I bought a real coffee. Small with one cream. I followed the contract to the letter.
I then headed for home. As I got closer to the Tim Horton’s my two lawyers began to try to persuade me.
“Larry, get a grip. You were skating. You always buy an Iced Cap after you skate. The skating will only last for a few more weeks. Why can’t you?”
That was lawyer number one.
So, after my skate on Wednesday, I bought a real coffee. Small with one cream. I followed the contract to the letter.
I then headed for home. As I got closer to the Tim Horton’s my two lawyers began to try to persuade me.
“Larry, get a grip. You were skating. You always buy an Iced Cap after you skate. The skating will only last for a few more weeks. Why can’t you?”
That was lawyer number one.
TOOL SHED ON WHAT USED TO BE A LAWN
“Hang tough Larry. Don’t buy the Iced Cap. You’ll like yourself better in the morning. You stipulated that you’d only have one on Friday. Skating is irrelevant. Friday is relevant.”
That was lawyer number two.
As I looked at Timmy’s through my rear-view mirror one of the lawyers stormed out of the office.
Legal battle settled?
That was lawyer number two.
As I looked at Timmy’s through my rear-view mirror one of the lawyers stormed out of the office.
Legal battle settled?
A FOREST CREATURE IS BORN
Well, the day before, we had our laneway ploughed. We weren’t at home to pay the plough-fella so I owed him money. He lives a few Kilometres past the Cabot Trail. That’s the road I have to turn onto so I can get home.
I passed the Cabot Trail and drove a few more kilometres to his house where I gave him the money.
On the way down his snowy laneway, my lawyers were back at it.
I passed the Cabot Trail and drove a few more kilometres to his house where I gave him the money.
On the way down his snowy laneway, my lawyers were back at it.
WALKING HOME AFTER CHECKING OUT NEIGHBOUR'S HOUSE
ONLY ANOTHER K AND A HALF TO GO AND THEN THEY ARE HOME
To make a long story short, I drove past my turn-off to home and onwards and upwards to Baddeck. More specifically, right back to Timmy’s where I bought two Iced Caps. One for Sue and one for me. I skated. Wednesday was irrelevant.
And please don’t ask me how many trips we’re making to North Sydney or Sydney, but I have had to make two urgent trips to North Sydney this week and lawyer number two can’t say anything about it because it’s in the contract. He’s working on a new, air-tight clause.
And please don’t ask me how many trips we’re making to North Sydney or Sydney, but I have had to make two urgent trips to North Sydney this week and lawyer number two can’t say anything about it because it’s in the contract. He’s working on a new, air-tight clause.
TOREY LOOKING AT HER NEW PHONE WHILE STANDING ON BLUEBERRY MOUNTAIN
And let’s not even get into how my lawyers deal with my beer intake. I’ll only say that my lawyer who fights for sobriety, is holding his own, but only barely.
WHAT AM I POINTING AT WHILE ON MICA TRAIL
