Tales from the Trails Post #5

During this trip, particularly when driving alone in the sag wagon, I've had time for contemplation, and invariably think about my family, meaning my wife and our two kids, and also my parents and siblings. Both of my parents have died within the last few years, and while I miss their physical presence, I feel them with me in the van. I promise this post is about our bike trip, but bear with me during the dad forward parts.

As I recall, my father, a fairly serious man, said three funny things to me during his long and happy life. I'm sure there were more, but three have stuck with me. 

One of the three was uttered as he and I sat on the back deck of the early nineteenth century Colonial he'd moved the family into after we headed east from Michigan to Connecticut, when I was twelve. 

I was in my mid-twenties at the time of the quip. The moon was high in the sky, lighting all of his three acres. I could make out the large pine at the property line in the far back left corner. After a sip of beer, my dad craned his neck upward, and said, "John, do you know what the best part of that moon is?" 

I was stumped, but it didn't matter; he wasn't waiting for a reply. "The best part," he said, "is it's directly over MY PROPERTY!" 

The line caught me happily off guard. I'd waited a quarter century for something funny, and, comparatively speaking, found this to be hysterical. Maybe it's a good thing my dad had taught my siblings and me to be thankful for all we receive. If he had meant the observation about the moon seriously I'm still counting it.

The line came to mind when Ed and I took a short hike from our campsite at the Holt Cycling Shelter outside of Nelson BC, to the shores of Kootenay Lake a half-mile away, and saw a flock of Bald Eagles circling overhead before they touched down into a big tree. It's no wonder I'd think the best part of the sighting was the birds were directly over OUR HEADS! (Though being spared getting shat upon by a herd of eagles was a good part, too.) 

Here are a few more shots from our hike to Kootenay Lake...

The trail to Kootenay Lake

The field to Kootenay Lake

The mountains across Kootenay Lake

Ed posing in front of a rainbow over Kootenay Lake

Lubejob posing in front of a rainbow over Kootenay Lake

The second funny thing I remember my dad saying occurred around the same time as the first funny thing. I'd gone from my apartment to the Colonial to borrow a long-handled branch cutter my dad kept in the rafters of his garage. We were in one of the garage's open bays when he pointed to a vacuum cleaner in the corner by the garbage bins. I recognized it as our old Hoover, the one my little brother Tom (aka Little Lubejob) had once sat upon for a spell in a closet off the Colonial's kitchen. Tom was a latch-key kid, and one afternoon after school he'd been curious to know if the glow-in-the-dark pen he'd dug from the bottom of a full box of Fruit Loops did what the marketers at Kellogg (Yay, Michigan!) claimed it would. So he squeezed himself into the tiny closet with pen in hand and closed the self-locking door behind him. Sure enough, the writing implement held a pale green luminosity for at least thirty seconds. And for the next two hours, Little Lubejob sat in pitch darkness on the Hoover until our mother, a psychologist, got home from fixing people's heads. 

(As a side note to this side note, my mother would later announce to all of us that the experience had proved only that Tom was a wonderfully curious and calm individual. A psychologist mother's work is never done.)

Anyway, back to dad's joke. While standing in the garage bay he asked if I understood the significance of having a vacuum cleaner not just in one's house but also in one's garage. I had no idea the significance, but my father was ensconced in his funny period so I new something clever was on its way. Before I had a chance to say anything clever of my own, he pronounced, "It means, I HAVE ARRIVED!"

I think of this statement each time I pull into our nightly campsite. For the past ten days I've driven a stretch of land called "The Wildlife Corridor," with road signs warning not of deer crossings, but of a triumvirate of possible crossings, such as Deer, Bear and Moose, Deer, Elk and Big Horn Sheep, or Elk, Moose and Bear. Sometimes the GPS is wonky, or the cellular is down, or the winding mountain road is wet and slippery, or the dashboard battery gauge shows the needle dipping at a precipitous angle, or the cow path road is so badly wash-boarded it raises concerns that the tire might pop, or a lug might snap, or an axle is sure to break at any second. It's no wonder that I am thankful upon arrival at our destination. The bikes and van are the lifeblood of this trip, and if they break, we're in trouble, possibly big trouble. So each afternoon when I arrive at the site, I crane my neck to the Heavens, and say, "I HAVE ARRIVED!"

We have not seen a bear, though we have seen claw marks on trees within yards of our campsites, especially at the Holt Shelter, because the Kokanee salmon were spawning in the creek nearby. As well, at night, from within my own tent, I hear sounds that resemble those of hibernating bears. And in the mornings I'll hear sounds similar to what an oom-pah band might make when warming up. If you've never heard, or watched, a sixty-five year old cyclist escape a one-man tent through an opening the size of a porthole after a fifty mile day, I recommend it. But keep a safe distance.

While we haven't seen bears, we have had many animal sightings, with free-range horses, deer, elk and peacocks all having rummaged through our campsites at one time or another.

An all too familiar sign at campsites

Spawning Salmon in Kokanee Creek

Free range horses and peacocks at Old Cowboy Ranch

Deer by James's and my tents at Pass Creek Campground

Elk by our picnic table at Champion Lake Provincial Park

Ed, thinking of burgers, on the BC Trail

Red Squirrel wondering wtf

Mountain Lion

The third funny thing I remember my dad saying is a family favorite, and the only one of the three jokes that is actually delivered in the form of a joke. It's redundant, but that only adds to the effect, as does dad's timing and delivery. In fact, the joke is nothing without timing and delivery. 

The Colonial had four fireplaces, one of which my parents used every winter night of the forty-seven years they lived in the house. That fireplace attached to a chimney my dad once tried to clean by tying a rope to a small Christmas tree and pulling it up through the shoot as he stood atop the roof. The next evening, when the fire department was done putting out the chimney fire (our mom had the department's telephone number on speed dial, btw) the chief again reminded my father that the house was made of wood boards that had been curing for 175 years. This reminder, in fact, may have been what made my dad come up with the joke. 

He was a master fire builder, my dad, and was proud to teach all of his four kids his patented technique: big log in back, smaller log in front, lightly crumpled newspaper between them, ample kindling spread evenly atop the paper, and two logs at slants over the kindling. Light the paper from back to front, after making sure the flew was open. We all forgot this last step on occasion, invariably sending mom for the phone.

Dad had just completed laying one of his fires when he turned to the family and asked if we knew the three things needed to make a good fire. Sensing this was a trick question, nobody answered, so he said, "Dry Wood..." (here he paused momentarily and stuck one finger in the air)..."Dry Wood..." he said again, holding up a second finger before taking a longer pause and letting out a slight chuckle for dramatic effect... "And Dry Wood!"

My father also taught us all to be charitable; so none of his kids will ever think this joke is not funny.

We have had a few days of slightly hazy skies, due to forest fires raging some distances away. Therefore, fire bans at campsites have been common. Which hasn't been a drawback because we're usually behind our individual tent zippers snoring by the time the sky is full of stars. But when we do have campfires, we like to make the most of them, by cooking great meals or telling stories around them. 

A fire by Ed, and an amazing chicken, rice and broccoli dinner cooked by James

This photo makes me wish I'd brought my harmonica

I'd like to give a shout out to the kind folks at First Perk Coffee, in Jaffrey BC, who let me sit on their front porch with my computer for three and a half hours until they closed, while using their Wi-Fi and electricity for the price of a cup of coffee and a strawberry muffin the size of a softball. They even gave me a free cup of joe on my way out.

First Perk Coffee. Housed in what was once a model for a log cabin construction company.

Notice the bicycle.

Also, thank you Dad, for being such a great father, and fodder, and a good sport when sitting through the many roasts and toast I wrote and recited for you over the years. 

My parents' 50th wedding anniversary celebration, Chevy Chase Village, MD.

My sister, Pam, to the left. Carol Pedersen (Ed's mom) to the right.

A reminder that a HUGE goal of this trip is to raise money for two charities, to which we hope you will consider donating. I've been told recently that Ed and I are approaching our goal to raise 

$ 20,000 for https://mchsmi.org/  !!!

James is riding for Support Lummi Nation Boys & Girls Club. 

Please click the links to learn why you might want to help them, too. They and we appreciate your support greatly!