I went for a walk tonight along the Brunette River trail to help work off the 15,000 calories of pizza I had ingested earlier and spied for the first time the fur-bearing stick re-arrangers that have been at work at the small artificial pond created back in 2012 as part of a habitat restoration project. Previously the drainage pipe fed into a small pond that continued into another pipe under the trail and into the river. For the restoration, a new stream was created off the pond to the east that travels about half a km or so down before joining into another. At the same time a large concrete barrier was put in place to create a larger, permanent pond. When it rains this pond naturally spills over and the excess goes into the pipe that leads under the trail. In the winter this spillover becomes a reasonably impressive little waterfall.
Recently I’ve noticed twigs and small branches adorning the top of the concrete barrier. They would usually go away, but inevitably reappear a few days later. They were there tonight and for the first time I saw the culprits lazing about in the pond: three beavers.
There may be more than three, but that’s how many were showing themselves. None were active in the construction as I walked by, but their work is evident in the shot below. You can see that even though we are in the midst of a dry spell, there is still a trickle of water flowing over the concrete and the beavers will have none of it (apologies for the naff picture quality. I was afraid the beavers might dive if I got too close, so I wasn’t too fussy on getting the best angle).
Here’s a cropped version that more closely shows the dam builders, contemplating more dam building. The third one is near the water’s edge toward the back.
I wonder if these beavers are related to the ones that managed to derail a 152 car train.
In case you had trouble finding depressing things on the internet, Bijan Stephen has an article on The Verge that handily links to several sites that trade specifically in the despair and hopelessness online: The feeling of online is ennui
It highlights how you can feel so alone and cold when in the midst of a billion babbling virtual voices. In the era of an American president seemingly spending more time making typos and complaints on Twitter than actually doing his job (perhaps a good thing), it’s not surprising that stories (and sites) like these would pop up.
Screenshots of despair is my favorite, partly because it’s a blog and not a Twitter account, but also because the humor mostly derives from being out of context, which makes it seem a little less hopeless and awful (though the blog author asserts “I am trying to break your heart.”)
This is the current feature story on engadget. (Yes, I’m picking on engadget yet again, but it’s almost unavoidable now. I swear!)
Speculation: The “Android table” is furniture that connects to the internet so you can shop/surf/post while having dinner. Good on Samsung innovating in ways that Apple never would!
Once again I have ended a month in proverbial post crunch mode, having to write half a dozen or more posts in one evening to meet my goal of having at least one post per day for the month.
And again I’ve done it, because once a random thought gets into my head, others tend to follow and I write about them here and presto, goal met!
I am going to celebrate this achievement with NyQuill and sleep.
I am getting more stuffed up as the evening progresses. I do not like this. But I’m not complaining.
Yes, I am. I am totally complaining.
I’m going to re-read A Complaint Free World. I need to get back on the complaint-free bandwagon.
And never catch another cold again.
Fake edit: I have just ordered an official™ Complaint Free bracelet. It’s purple, so I’m pretty excited. It will apparently take 10-25 days to get here, so I’m going to get in a serious pile of complaining in the meantime, as a healthy way of purging it from my system. Yep.
It was inevitable, really. After staying healthy for the trip earlier this month and healthy for the first week back at work, I felt a tickle in my throat yesterday afternoon that turned into a sore throat and sinuses by evening.
As I interact with other people all day–both by choice and otherwise–and live in a building where the hallway ventilation can be described as “no ventilation at all this year” I am perhaps only surprised it took this long for a cold/sore throat to latch on.
I am equipped with both DayuQuil and Nyquil. I am not taking both together, however.
The summer cold hits
Unwelcome sore throat and nose
Sickness and the sun
engadget has actually improved its design enough over the last few years that I’m perfectly fine with it now, and the content is good enough that I check it every day.
Still, these two items in their Back to School Guide 2018 were within close proximity of each other, I don’t own either console and still know the highlighted statement is rather incorrect even before looking at the listed prices. Anyway, it’s a little funny. I wish the Switch was cheaper (it’s $400 in Canada).
The price gap is actually even higher here in Canada-ville.
From a WatchMojo video of the “Top 10 Most Difficult Songs to Sing” comes this, a brief surreal study in unprovoked insults:
Maybe there is important context missing (it almost seems like it), I just like how The Forgotten Ones interjects on how strange the comment chain is, befuddling the person who apparently calls some (all?) a Nazi.
Yesterday I bought a new desk fan. This is as exciting as it sounds. The brand name is Vornado, which is a portmanteau of vortex and tornado, which seems a bit redundant as a tornado is a vortex by definition. Then again, calling the fan Tornado would probably not conjure up the right image, either (“Imagine the destructive power of a tornado in your living room, in a convenient, compact form!”) so I guess they made the right call.
Anyway, before acquiring the fan I enjoyed some of this absurd summer weather by strolling about Central Park. A few of the pics I took didn’t turn out well (tip: your iPhone camera will auto-focus on a face, it will not auto-focus on a flower, unless you make that flower the center of your image or tape a picture of a face to it). But a few did.
I like the composition of this one, but the white flowers are a bit fuzzy and blown-out.
This one captures some nice detail in the flower and surrounding leaves.
And then there were the fish in the lower pond. Given how hot it was it’s not surprising some of them were barely moving. I watched one lazily swim toward the edge of the pond and drift until it hit bottom, at which point it bolted backward, like a cat that turned a corner to find a banana on the floor. Here’s a shot of them collectively hoping for cooler temperatures.
Trying to swim somewhere cool. Also, I think those kids in the background are feeding the trout.
And here are some fish demonstrating their fancy camouflage. It’s like “Where’s Waldo?” except wetter and stinkier. The one in the center of the image is the fish that ran aground, as mentioned above.
I left the park and went to Metrotown because I love crowded suburban malls, especially ones with working air conditioning. The Grand Court (which I’d say is more Grand-ish) was having some kind of panda awareness event.
And one more from the escalator. I think the fake pandas on display here actually outnumber the real pandas out there. Actually, I have no idea, but I wanted to say that.
After this I went to Bed, Bath & Beyond, grabbed my fan and left for home (well, I paid for the fan, too). The fan works well, and unlike the previous one, it’s not missing any rubber feet, so it doesn’t need to be propped up on a dish towel.
The one downside is it has a strong “new plastic” smell, being new plastic and all, and that new plastic smell is getting blown constantly into my face. It’s kind of gross. But after a few hours it’s much better and the breeze is otherwise pleasant and welcome.
Day 12 – Thursday, July 12, 2018 FVRDA campsite, Hope, New Westminster
We awoke to it already being about 30c. Summer has truly arrived now that our vacation is over and we can begin the annual Lower Mainland tradition of complaining that it’s too hot.
After breakfast we packed up the trailer, not just doing the usual pack up, but also battening down the proverbial hatches in preparation for parking the trailer at the quaint hobby farm where it lives when it’s not out camping. The hobby farm is in a place called Dogwood Valley, which is even more quaint.
With the trailer secured, we began the hairy 5 km descent from the FVDRA campsite, hairy because much of it is an 18% grade. At the 3.5 km mark we were delayed while a convoy of construction trucks trundled up past us. The alternative would have been them smushing our truck and trailer off the road, which would have been a bummer way to end the vacation.
I also learned the difference between a rock truck and a dump truck and it’s not that one carries rocks, smarty pants. Rock trucks apparently have twice the load capacity, which is handy when carrying rocks or rock-like things. The trucks were very big, like the ones you see in monster truck shows, except without the belching fire and ramps to jump over.
We finally got off the mountain, unhitched the trailer at the farm (I forgot to get the contents from the fridge—I knew I’d forget something. But at least I remembered my pants, even though I wasn’t even wearing them at the time), then went to Home in Hope to have a late lunch before what would turn out to be a 159 hour commute into Vancouver. I am exaggerating, but only by a little.
Here is a picture of our lunch. Jeff had Champignon Schnitzel, which is the most foreign-sounding thing on the menu. It came covered in gravy and mushrooms, so much so that you could not see what was underneath. It could have been called Mystery in the Gravy. I ordered a club sandwich on rye bread and every time I have a club sandwich I am reminded of how silly they are. You do not need three slices of bread (or toast) for a sandwich. That’s like 1200 calories alone. Also, you almost need a reticulated jaw to actually bite into a club house.
It was still delicious. I could not finish the nicely crisp French fries, though. The order size is based on your weight, judging from how many I got. I was originally going to order pie for dessert (I’m trying to make dessert after lunch a thing) but we were too stuffed and passed.
After lunch, we gassed up (Jeff eerily predicted the exact dollar amount the tank would take), then began the last leg of our journey, leaving Hope behind (again, never tiring of Hope jokes). Things went smoothly until we reached Abbotsford, which is the unofficial entryway into the Lower Mainland. Suddenly the left lane, which is only supposed to be used for passing, became the other lane to use in order to clog up the whole system. Which it did. We went from 110 km/h to 80 km/h to 30 km/h to sometimes just plain stopping. It turns out there was an accident—on the other side of the highway, which is separated by a large median strip, thus having zero impact on traffic on our side of the highway.
People are weird.
Things finally improved when the two lanes changed to three and we finally got into New West around 5 p.m., in time to agree on a quickie pizza dinner—a few hours later. This would give Jeff a chance to recover from the driving in a nice hot bath and me a chance to clean the dirty clothes in a nice hot washer.
After that I unpacked everything, tidied up a few things around the condo (our veggies sadly expired in our absence. Good thing we don’t have pets) and now I’m wrapping up the whole thing here at my familiar computer desk, but I’m being kooky and consistent by typing this final day’s update on the same iPad with its Smart Cover keyboard, after which I will use the magic of home internet to hopefully upload this all to my blog.
And with that, the official travel part of Summer Vacation 2018 comes to an end. There may be more, but it will involve walking around the neighborhood or possibly riding the SkyTrain, which is less exotic than driving a thousand km to a remote northern mining town.
It was actually 29ºC. zomg, as the kids would say. The summer weather has arrived just in time for the last few days of vacation.
It was already 28 when we got up, like someone threw the Summer Switch from OFF to ON.
I actually wore my sunglasses. It was amazing.
Sunny, clear sky, hot. Summer. Yay!
Today was hiking day. We started by doing the Beaver Tail Loop, a 5 km or so set of connected trails designed for kids to ride on. It wends through the forest, so most of it was fairly comfortable. Less comfortable was the giant unavoidable puddle that forced me to put my waterproof shoes to the test. They passed.
Be my huckleberry. And yes, those are high tension wires in the background.
There were also several downed trees, likely due to construction crews trying to keep the culverts clear. And also maybe they secretly hate dirt bikers. “Haha, ride over THAT, buddy!”
We also forded a real life babbling brook (it was a small fording) and crossed a new bridge that replaces an old rickety one that was in the path of a beaver dam. We saw the dam, but I did not see any beavers, alas.
The pond behind the beaver dam, with the hydro tower watching over like a sentinel.
The next hike was to the famed Hobbit House. We descended deep into the woods and down a tricksy hill. At one point the path curved and became very narrow and I experienced a few moments of vertigo. It was weird, and as you would expect with vertigo, disorienting. It passed quickly, though, and we made our way down to a giant, yet sadly dead cedar that has been hollowed out, with a charming wooden door added to it. Officially it’s known as the Trickle Creek Tree House to avoid lawsuits from the Tolkien estate. Inside it is dark and scary, which is not like a hobbit house at all. It’s nothing a hobbit couldn’t fix, though.
Checking to see if anyone is home.
There is also a spectacular waterfall farther down the hill. Here is a less than spectacular shot of it. This is as close as I got because the rest of the trail down is so steep and narrow there is a steel cable provided for you to hold onto. Or in my case, to hold onto briefly before slipping and sliding the rest of the way down to my doom.
The third hike was up an unused secondary road leading up the mountainside. It promised nice views and badly burned skin, as it is completely out in the open. In a rare case of foresight, I slathered sun block all over my arms, my face and my neck—including the back of the neck. I did not put any on my legs as they seem impervious to burning, for some reason. The result: a 75 minute hike later and I am as lily-white as when I started. This is nothing short of a miracle, believe me.
The hike itself was as you would expect—more work going up than going down, but not exactly a cakewalk (mmm, cake) going down, either, as the rocks and general lumpiness keep you from descending drag strip racer style.
The views were very nice, despite abundant evidence of logging in days gone by. Jeff opted to commune with nature by walking in a clothing-optional configuration. While sunblock might prevent one’s doodle from being scorched by the sun, I’d still be afraid of a great big horsefly biting mine if I hiked au naturel. It’s too bad, too, because I have incredibly sexy buns.
Jeff’s are pretty decent, too.
View overlooking valley, with forestry detritus in the foreground.
We ultimately hit a dead end, took in the view (both with and without buns of steel on display) and made our way back. It was quiet warm, but a breeze helped and the sunglasses worked a treat, as the Brits say. Or maybe it’s the Irish. Or all of them. I don’t have any internet as I type this, so I can’t check.
I didn’t notice until checking this shot after that Jeff is lurking in the background. It adds an element of mystery and intrigue.
Jeff is continuing to work on his tan while I continue to work on remaining very white. Tonight we are having pasta for dinner, another fire and may decide whether we stay another full day or head homeward tomorrow. Jeff has a highly developed “lounge around, relaxing and enjoying the quiet of nature” sense, where I’m more I MUST BE IN CONSTANT MOTION LIKE A SHARK OR ELSE. So we’ll see how it goes.
UPDATE
For dinner we had pasta with a manly beef sauce and it was very good. Everything tastes slightly amazing when you’re out camping.
Jeff cut some fresh wood for the fire tonight and it’s weird how incredibly light some of the logs are. I could pick one up with one hand and balance it on the tip of my nose.
I took on the task of building the fire tonight and it was a raging, magnificent inferno. We didn’t even require any of Jeff’s magic elixir* to give it a boost.
The last fire of our trip. I built it and it burned like crazy.
We are turning in earlier tonight and mercifully it’s cooled down quite a bit from the day (ironic, I know, that we have so quickly come to complaining about how hot it is). After some discussion we have decided to head home tomorrow after a pit stop in Hope for food and gas (but not lodging).
The FVDRA campsite is quite nice. We got in good hikes, there were a few pesky flies, but very few mosquitoes, and, of course, it was blissfully quiet.
