Yoga Mat 1

Relaxing. Between projects.

Stretch. Yoga. Cycle. Play hockey. For fun and fitness.

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Please click here for more related to fun and fitness

Discovering the world in one pair of pants: July 19 - 21, 2012 (Conclusion)

I came back home from a recent bicycle trip with a good story, dozens of photos, but no bread. Somebody stole my bread!

After getting all artsy-fartsy with a few photos this morning, I made some rather startling decisions:

I will go on another bike trip

I will go a bit farther afield

And, I will camp for an extra day, spend less money, but have even more fun

Stay tuned.

[Photos by G.Harrison]

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Please click here to view Discovering the world in one pair of pants: July 19 - 21, 2012 (Pt 2)

Discovering the world in one pair of pants: July 19 - 21, 2012 (Pt 2)

Recently, upon my new Miele 21-speed bicycle (with a trailer attached bearing some of my worldly goods, incl. beans and spare socks), I journeyed 80 - 90 kilometers (not as the crow flies) from London to Springwater Conservation Area, on mostly paved roads through some of Ontario’s finest landscape.

I share the following photos in the hopes that you’ll consider a bicycle vacation as well in the future and that you’ll let me know about it, or share some photos of your own. Perhaps you’ll come across the red squirrel that stole my rye bread and discover a way to deal with the little beggar. Let me know!

Photo 1: Heading out of London

I stopped to admire the bike lane on White Oaks Rd. I wish there were more like it, for safety’s sake.


Photo 2: A lovely laneway

Jennifer and Luc win first prize in the “Long and Lovely Laneway” category. Don’t ask me where the lane is located; I didn't write it down. Maybe Edgeware Rd.?

Photo 3: My trusty Kelly kettle

I travelled to Thunder Bay and back (3,300 km.) in 2007, taking only a Kelly kettle to heat water for meals and tea. Sure, I ate a lot of instant oatmeal and Mr. Noodle, but Canada is the land of twigs after all, so I saved a fortune in fuel costs. Oh, a fortune to be sure.

Photo 4: My tiny ‘pocket rocket’ stove

Even though I could easily use a Kelly kettle (w special attachment) to heat my stew, I depended on my propane stove. Stir the stew, drop twigs into the kettle for tea. Stir, drop, stir, drop. Two things at once. Easy kap-easy.

Photo 5: Once upon a time

Behind my can of Crazy Canuck beer sits my bag of rye bread. I ate 1.5 slices for supper. Later in the evening the rest was stolen by a ferocious wild animal. Photo to follow.

Photo 6: Ferocious beast

Though outweighed by the many grey and black squirrels in the area, the wild red squirrel (as of yet, no one can claim to have definitively tamed one) is a master at defending his territory, i.e., all of Springwater Cons. Area. And this one can cart off a loaf of bread in the blink of an eye.

Photo 7: Big appetite

Though I searched the grounds thoroughly around my campsite after the theft, I found not one crumb of bread or piece of leftover plastic bag. All I found was the hole to a hideout. A red squirrel’s home? I don’t know! I wasn’t about to stick my nose in there!

More to follow.

Photos by G.Harrison

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Please click here to view Discovering the world in one pair of pants: July 19 - 21, 2012 (Pt 1) 

  

Discovering the world in one pair of pants: July 19 - 21, 2012 (Pt 1)

On Thursday I bicycled from my home in London to the Springwater Conservation Area (to the south-east, toward Aylmer) with camping gear, groceries (including an expensive loaf of rye bread that was perfect for toast and sandwiches. Oh, perfect, I say), bathing suit and spare socks in a small trailer behind me.

On Saturday I arrived back home safe and sound, as fit as a fiddle, and now give the trip - a significant piece in my journey to discover the world in a fun-filled but frugal fashion - an overall score of 9.5 out of 10.

I’m pretty darn sure, had a red squirrel - devious little critter - not stolen my rye bread, the trip would have scored even higher.

The journey covered 80 - 90 kilometers (not as the crow flies) on mostly paved roads through some of Ontario’s finest landscape. I went up hills and down hills and am glad I rode a bicycle with 21 gears. I used seven of them on a regular basis.

I came home thinking the following: 

- The only better way to see the same countryside would be by walking through it at an easy pace with a few supplies in a backpack.

(Note to self: Make plans to do so before you’re 85-years old). 

As the second-best way to go, cycling is superb. (Admittedly, my hinder parts have a second opinion.) A cyclist, not rushed for time, sees his surroundings quite fully. His mind can absorb the sights, sounds and smells in a very appreciative manner.

["Watch out for the kid with the ball!"]

The trip cost very little. The rewards were very high.

The rewards fell under various headings: Emotional. Intellectual. Fiscal. Spiritual. Recreational. Physical. 

And photographical. (Even if there isn’t such a word, I still have some pictures to show you.)

If you were to go on a wee vacation by bicycle, where would you go?

[Photos by G.Harrison]

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Please click here for more photographs of the world

Planning Ahead PT 2: “A bicycling and hockey history trip to Brussels”

[“Perhaps I’ll want to relive my glory days in baseball and revisit the grassy fields of Foldens, Oxford Centre, Holbrook and Mount Elgin...” G.Harrison, Oct. 3]

As the proud owner of a new bicycle I can safely say many bicycle miles lie ahead because the city of London, my current hometown, is surrounded by intriguing places to visit.

Paris is a short jaunt east of town. I’m told it’s beautiful. And I just have to get on Dundas St., or Highway 2, and pedal. And pedal some more, until I’m there.


Brussels (It’s quite famous. Known for its fine beers.) is 100 km. (approx.) north of London. I just have to remember to aim for Listowel and turn left at Newry. I look forward to the ride through some of the finest farmland in Ontario.

On my way to Brussels I’ll stop for lunch in Mitchell, then look for the local museum and brush up on the hockey stats of Howie Morenz, one of the region’s famous sons.

Did you know Howie Morenz was hockey’s first superstar?

Did you know he was born 21 June 1902 in Mitchell, Ontario and died 8 March 1937 in Montreal, Quebec?

Did you know the following:

“Howard William ‘Howie’ Morenz was known for his amazing speed and intense concentration. Dubbed ‘The Mitchell Meteor’ and ‘The Stratford Streak’, he played for the Mitchell Juveniles for the 1917-18 season and then in Stratford, Ontario for the next five years. In 1923, Morenz was offered a place on the Montreal Canadiens and, in his very first season there, he finished eighth in league scoring and helped the team win a Stanley Cup.


[Link to more info and photo at wikipedia.org]

No? You’re not alone. I knew he was from Mitchell, how to spell his name (almost) and link to an informative website.

If the good people of Brussels have no room for me I’ll bike a few miles farther to Wawanosh Conservation area and pitch my 1.5-man tent.


I have many miles to ride. I’d better get my tender hinder parts in gear!

More to follow.

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Please click here for PT 1: “A bicycling and camping trip to Paris”

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It Strikes Me Funny: Never leave home without Plan B

Last Thursday, after Carlisle entered the van I did too and three of us, including Gary as driver, headed toward Saugeen Bluffs for a short kayaking and camping adventure.


(There's more to this story too.)

A forecast for heavy rain caused us to defer to Plan B and make a detour toward a hunt camp that included a comfortable cabin with a rain-tight roof.


Good thing. It rained for about six hours straight.


On Friday morning, a nearby pond - even the air above it - appeared crystal clear. A wee songbird sang his heart out for us.


Although we saw lots of water the kayaks stayed on the roof racks.


We’ll give camping and kayaking another try in August.

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Did last week’s rain hamper your plans or help you make new ones?

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Hit Singles: I am a Lonely Cowboy

Backgrounder: “I camped with the same circle of friends for many years and one fellow always brought a guitar and a new homemade song for the campfire. This is one of my attempts to come up with what I would call a campfire song.” gaharrison

I am a Lonely Cowboy

Verse 1.

I lost my wife early in life raising kids high on this mountain.
Long hours every day I thought life was okay,
But my heart now feels like it’s aching.
My heart it feels like it’s breaking.

Chorus:

I am a lonely cowboy riding my old gray horse.
I am a lonely cowboy riding my old gray horse.


["I thought life was okay": photo link]

2. I lost my girls, they entered your world, moved away from this mountain.
They both used to write, but they live out of sight,
And my heart now feels like it’s aching.
My heart it feels like it’s breaking.

3. I lost my sons to jobs needing done, they rode down off this mountain.
They said, “See you again.” So I look down the lane,
And my heart now feels like it’s aching.
My heart it feels like it’s breaking.

4. I lost my friend, came to his end caught in a storm on this mountain.
Lost in the snow he had no place to go,
And my heart now feels like it’s aching.
My heart it feels like it’s breaking.

5. I lost it all, there’s no one to call, I’m living alone on this mountain.
This farm is all mine, but we’re both lost in time,
And my heart now feels like it’s aching.
My heart it feels like it’s breaking.

gah.

Please click here to find more hit singles and pieces of brilliant prose.

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Zoom w a View: Sand and water, Lake Superior style - I will return

My wife will have to say ‘yes’ three times before the next trip on my long wish list comes to pass.

“Can I leave for a seven-day trip on my motorcycle?” (Yes)

“Can I take a passenger... my brother?” (Yes)


“Can you lend me $500?”


My brother and I got all dreamy-eyed while looking at my 2007 photos from my first and, possibly, last trip to the north shore of Lake Superior.


How hard is it to save $500? We’ll see.

***

Gas - $150; camping fees - $250; food - $100 (we’ll raid the cupboards before we go), cash on hand - $100. We can do this.

Psst. Wanna buy a birdhouse?

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Zoom w a View: Lake Superior scenes

After delivering a chair to my brother this afternoon we looked through a small book I produced containing several of my favourite photos from my trip to the north shore of the deepest and coldest of The Great Lakes.

"Do you like camping?" I asked.

"Sure," he said.


"Well, maybe we can go to Hattie Cove one day."


"Sure," he said, this time with more enthusiasm.

I think I'll start saving my money. It would be the trip of a lifetime for us.


And my motorcycle knows the way.

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Prose: backpack canoe: conclusion - ‘North Tea reflections’

Backgrounder: “Three days and nights on North Tea gave birth to countless memories. When our group gets together to talk about past trips the stories spill out of us in handfuls, like beans from a burlap sack.” gaharrison

North Tea reflections

coffee in the morning
has a heightened taste
brought to boil
over an open flame.

after a sound sleep
on a pine needle mattress
cold clean water cuts
short the morning dip.

tarp water is turned aside
by a hastily dug
shallow trench
around my tent.

adult loons
patient and protective
are wise diving instructors
for their eager young.


wooden box crappers
havens for hardy mosquitoes
open to the elements
and passing paddlers.

crows as big as barns
chatter loudly for hours
to pass the time
in the treetops.

chicken noodle soup
four for a dollar
a satisfying noon meal
on a cool rock bench.

fajitas, steaks, salads,
store-bought lasagna
catch jealous eyes
and take the culinary prize.

on warm evenings
we scout for moose we tip canoes
and lanterns left in trees
guide stragglers home.




Catch more prose at Hit Singles by G. Harrison

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Prose: backpack canoe, more than a trilogy part 3 - ‘moose at Manitou’

Backgrounder: “While camping near North Tea Lake in Algonquin Park several years ago I saw my first moose. Don tried to shoot it (with his camera) but lost his balance and camera equipment during the process. I wrote about the event and still describe moose as very agile for their size.” gaharrison

moose at Manitou


first lone moose
spotted near a cedar shore
head visible above water
leisurely tearing leaves
from a fallen branch.
the canoes drifted too close
and the moose soon bolted
on long black legs
into safe scrub brush.

second sighting, on Manitou Lake
huge muscular unassuming beasts
perhaps near-sighted
but so alert -
twitching ears caught every sound.
two stood knee deep
in long marsh grass
five canoes, silent, still,
approach cautiously
‘til the spell is broken
we exchange stares
with odd silent creatures.
did they hear us breathe?
only a few agile strides needed -
the two disappeared.

gah

More prose and song lyrics at Hit Singles by G. Harrison

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My last moose encounter occured in 2007 while motorcycling on the Trans-Canada highway between Wawa and White River. A lone moose seemed to be the only inhabitant of that lonely stretch of highway.

Have you enjoyed a moose sighting lately? Where?

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The Workshop: Deadlines looming, busy days ahead

I’m supposed to be retired.

I should be bicycling along the river during lazy, hazy afternoons, stopping on occasion to sip pina coladas or relax in a friend’s back yard to admire his gardens.

I’d ask him how to keep rabbits away from my next batch of Brussel sprouts.

(See post below for details)

Instead, I think I’ve got five solid days of shed work ahead.

Of course, the work (Rietveld crate chairs, boxes for an ‘old fashioned’ grocery store display area) will pay for my trip to Temagami.


[Near Loon Lodge, Temagami]

I bet I can sip pina coladas in Temagami.

So, this retired guy has his eye on the prize this week.

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Are you busy in retirement?

There are pros and cons, aren’t there?

Such as...?

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Prose: backpack canoe, more than a trilogy part 2 - ‘first day out’

Backgrounder: “The first day in the canoes tired me out. I was so happy to reach dry land, set up the tent and eat supper. The bottle of brandy I brought, to mix with my evening tea, relaxed every muscle in my body.” gaharrison

first day out

... continued (please see previous post)

now, tents and tarps
next, collect dry wood
soon, our first fire warms
a weary crew and
lends a snapping orange light
to friendly faces
brandy in their tea.

supper on a Coleman stove
steam and rice and stew
open fire with wire racks
assembled pans, bubbling pots
for lean cuisine and cornish hens.
under yards of canvas
my simple chow, piping hot
in a metal bowl,
is a king’s delight.


[Photo GAH]

after five hours of
push and pull and carry
weary bodies relax
on stumps for chairs
and look at tomorrow’s plan -
take morning dips, tie towel lines
explore coves, sail canoes
write journals and read novels.
easy routines, short naps
and deep sleeps at end of day.

gah

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Prose: backpack canoe, more than a trilogy part 2 - ‘first day out’

Backgrounder: “Somewhere near the middle of North Tea Lake, while sitting in canoes rented from “No Way Out Adventures”, our group of canoes stopped so that weary occupants, myself among them, could take a welcome break. Black licorice sticks never tasted sweeter. My shoulders had never been so sore or hot to the touch. It all seemed worth it an hour later when on dry land.” gaharrison

first day out

breakfast, fresh at “no way out”
equal parts stiff cool breeze
and soft-boiled eggs
the mosquitoes thankfully took a break.
large loads of freight
every item precious
bring anxious smiles as canoes,
sitting much lower in the water now,
jockey heavily at the gate.
the first energetic push,
past lily pads
and long snake grass,
stretches every muscle
through endless twists and turns
to the first portage.


lunches and black licorice
quickly unpacked, are eaten
on a small outcrop of rock
backs are hunched ‘gainst
a cold wet wind.
with white caps to fight
all heads are down
hot spots tear at tired shoulders
from the hard grip on paddles.
but slowly we draw closer
to our island home
wild point of rock and pine.

... to be continued

gah

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more prose and lyrics at hit songs by G. Harrison

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Discovering Ontario and More: Biking & Camping in One Pair of Pants Page 7

[Yes, the title has changed. I learned a lot of lessons on the road and one was - squeeze as much as possible into a title and saddlebag.]

After I parked my bike and took a few pictures of my surroundings at Sandbanks Provincial Park, I unloaded necessary supplies and gear, set up the pup tent, blew up the air mattress, rolled out my sleeping bag, unpacked a bit of food from a saddle bag, poured water into the kettle and scrounged around the immediate area for free kindling.

A short time later I walked to the camp store to call Pat on the pay phone.


“Everything going well?” she asked.

“Very well. What happened on Coronation Street tonight?” I asked.

She explained a few details:

Shawn yelled at Janet, Tracey went to jail, Karen discovered she was pregnant but didn’t know who the father was, Ken marked some English papers and Roy raised the price of his two egg sandwich.

“How much?” I asked.

She wasn’t sure. Roy’s accent made the words hard to make out.

We exchanged important details about our day.

“I saw a snapping turtle and then a guy who looked just like one,” I said.

Pat was happy I was having a good time and hadn’t been hit by a bus.

We eventually wished each other well, I said I’d call tomorrow evening and hung up the phone.

As I checked out the tinned goods in the camp store I wondered what would heat up nicely on the Kelly Kettle and at the same time go well with two organic eggs.


Trust me, it was a tough decision.

Would it be Puritan Irish stew with its preformed chunks of meat or Chef Boyardee ravioli filled with mystery meat?

Irish stew? Ravioli? Irish stew? Ravioli?

I realized it wouldn’t take much more than two eggs and toast to fill me up, so I settled on a small can of ravioli priced at $1.39.

After paying the cashier I walked back to my camp site by way of the beach, took a few more pictures of happy families and children fishing under a bridge, picked up a few more twigs and branches and thought, $1.39 for this little can? It had better be good.


Sure, the ads say that ‘when you serve Chef Boyardee to your family, you give them more than great taste – you give them a wholesome, nutritious meal as well’, but I’m not easily swayed by claims made about meals in a can.

I returned to my campsite and cooked a satisfying evening meal as the sun set and my immediate surroundings, in the middle of a thick wall of brush and many trees, fell into darkness.

I knew sleep would come quick and easy as soon as I slipped into my sleeping bag.

For a minute or two my mind replayed the gentle curves and hills on highway 10 north of Welcome while the sound of duelling banjos in the wind mixed with that from nearby campers who sat around an open fire, mumbled to one another and swatted mosquitoes.

Someone pedalled by on a squeaky bicycle but before they reached their campsite and smacked an unsuspecting sibling with a flip-flop or towel I was out like a light.

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Motorcycle Miles: Discovering Ontario in One Pair of Pants Page 6

Feel free to follow my thrilling adventures from London to Morrisburg, the Gatineaus, Algonquin Park and Bracebridge, made over nine days in the summer of 2006 - while wearing just one pair of pants.

Someday these stories might appear in an expensive book and you’ll be able to say you read them here for free.


[Sandbanks P. P., Prince Edward County: photo GAH]

Link to Page 5 for context, or if the excerpt below isn’t enough excitement for one day.

I discovered Picton has everything I like in a town - except for an easy-to-find gas station.

But instead of stopping to ask for directions (people don’t actually do that, do they?) or wasting more time and fuel I decided to backtrack and take my chances the next morning.

Fortunately, to my relief, while driving on fumes toward Sandbanks Provincial Park I saw gas pumps in front of the West Lake variety store.

The store, a small and cluttered building that looked like it was slapped together in the early 1900s out of leftover lumber, had nothing on its shelves that caught my fancy for supper so I was soon on my way.

A few minutes later I registered at the provincial park and fell into what would become my normal evening routine:

I looked for a camp site that had a clean and sturdy picnic table and was near a washroom and shower.

I explored a bit of my new neighbourhood to see if my site was relatively private.


[Privacy is free at Sandbanks P. P.: photo GAH]

I consider a site to be relatively private if I can sit at the picnic table and not see or hear children hitting each other with flip-flops, wet towels or foam noodles.

Or cursing in a high-pitched voice. I don’t like cursing.

Or high-pitched voices for that matter.

I parked the bike, and because a large body of water just happened to be in the neighbourhood (in this case, Lake Ontario), grabbed my camera and walked to the beach.

If this is too fast-paced for you, please sit down during the next installment.

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Page 7 is underway - coming soon.

Coming Soon: Discovering Ontario in One Pair of Pants

This week, another page will be added to the continuing and dadgum exciting adventures of local writer Gord Harrison, a motorcyclist who packs small and wears one pair of pants until they stand up on their own.


Yes, he’s still in Prince Edward County with his Kelly Kettle and pocketful of small change.

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