From Colombia With Love
It’s been a while since I posted something and even longer since I gave an update of my trip, here’s some of what Erin and I have been up to since you last heard from us. I also have a video for you all to check out (link at the end). It’s a little rough, feel free to give me some feedback on it.
“Feel the fear and do it anyway” – Unknown
When Erin and I left New York for Ecuador, the airline wouldn’t let us on to the plane without some proof that we intended to leave the country. Many countries have this “onward ticket” rule, but it generally seems to be only sporadically enforced. In a panic, we booked a bus ticket from Quito, Ecuador to Bogotá, Colombia, just so they would let us on the plane. Once in Ecuador, we took a closer look at the ticket and realized we had signed ourselves up for a 30 hour bus ride. Great.
We contacted the company to see about a refund, but the best they would do was let us change the dates on the tickets. So, two days after the home invasion, we packed some snacks into our new daypack, and climbed aboard. The ride wasn’t actually too terrible, just long. The real excitement was at the Colombian border when we were informed that, as Canadians we are required to pay a “reciprocity fee” of $160,000 pesos (roughly $50 USD) to get in. We weren’t sure we had enough money, and the closest ATM was 7 km back, in town. We emptied all our pockets, pulled out our emergency stash, counted up all of our change, and we had just enough to pay our fees. We had about $4 left when it was all said and done. Good think we brought our own food for the bus trip, because we had no money left to buy dinner or lunch when the bus stopped for breaks.
Bogota Bound
Eventually we made it to Bogotá, the capital city of Colombia. Bogota is a huge city. To put it in perspective, there are more people living in Bogotá then in the whole province of Alberta. We stayed at a hostel in the old part of the city (La Candelaria), and, for the most part we just wandered around and took in the sights. We went to the Museo Del Oro (Gold Museum), which featured a lot of indigenous and pre-colombian gold works and sculptures, – all owned by the bank, oddly enough. The bank started the museum after finding a particularly beautiful piece, and deciding maybe they shouldn’t be melting down all this ancient artwork. We also did a bicycle tour of the city, it seems on every block in Bogotá someone important has been assassinated. I’m glad things have calmed down lately, because it is a beautiful, chaotic city and certainly worth seeing.
The Piece That Started The Collection
Ready to Ride
From Bogotá, we took a short ride on the bus to Zipaquira. We spent a single night in a very run down and poorly kept hostel, and saw the Salt Cathedral in the morning. It’s a salt mine carved into a cathedral complete with some very impressive sculptures.
Salt Cathedral
Next up was the picturesque colonial town of Villa De Leyva, where we spent a few days relaxing. One day, Erin and I decided to do a hike up one of the small mountains nearby. At first I wasn’t sure we were even on a trail, but eventually we saw some other footprints and were reassured. After the first forty five minutes in the heat and high altitude, I was worried I wouldn’t make it to the top. After the second forty five minutes, I was worried I wouldn’t make it home alive. Erin just rolled her eyes at my bellyaching, and kept on climbing.
Just Leave Me Here to Die
Eventually, the trail stopped leading upward and levelled off. Suddenly the trail was leading between fields of grazing sheep and cows, and small houses dotted the landscape on the sides of the mountains. We stopped and had some lunch (fresh baked bread and gingerale). As we headed back down, I was looking out at the houses and I realized something. There were no cars or motorcycles, these people commuted to town via the trail that I barely survived. Suddenly I felt a little silly and plenty weak. On our way down, my theory was confirmed as we passed several groups of people, many walking and some riding donkeys laden down with supplies. One man we passed was talking on a cell phone while riding a donkey up the hill, it was just an interesting sight to see.
Life At High Altitudes
View From The Top
Donkeys and Mobile Phones
The day after our hike we decided to rent some mountain bikes and do a self guided tour to a local park with a few nice waterfalls. We biked up hill the whole way there along a gravel road. We arrived at the park, paid our fees, and hiked down into the valley to see the waterfalls. We passed a few people on the trails but didn’t see anyone at the waterfall. We sat on a rock at the bottom and had some lunch and then we climbed up the slippery rock to the top of the falls, which was really just some water trickling down the rocks, as it had been very dry lately.
Thundering Waterfall
Not Much Water Falling
After taking some photos and admiring the scenery we came down and grabbed our gear. Before we could leave a local man explained in Spanish that there was a nicer, larger waterfall further down the trail. He was pretty adamant and got us to follow him, until we saw a sign that clearly denoted the end of the trail. He waved his hand in a “ah its nothing” fashion and kept walking, we went a little further and then Erin said “I’ll wait here.” We were both a bit concerned that it might be a set up, trap, or ambush of sorts. My Spanish wasn’t good enough to give and excuse not to follow him also I was aware that my paranoia was still a little high from the previous weeks excitement in Quito. After a bit more following we showed up at a really big waterfall, and I was quite relieved. We felt bad for being suspicious of him. Erin and I headed back to the park entrance, grabbed a lemon aid, and headed back towards town. On the way, we made one more stop near a small pond and had a light snack before finishing our tour.
From Villa De Leyva, we made our way to San Gil, the adventure capital of Colombia. We stayed at a nice hostel run by an Australian man who organized activities with other local businesses. I signed up for kayaking course and was up bright and early the next morning ready to go. Unfortunately, they had forgotten about me. Erin had left before I was supposed to be picked up so while she was off exploring nearby towns with new friends, I sat in my room, grumpy that I had been forgotten. Oh well, I needed the rest and relaxation. That evening I mentioned to the owner what happened and he immediately called the company and confirmed I would be picked up for classes the following day.
There Was a Parade in Town For Some Reason
The next morning, they called the company to re-confirm. Sure enough, they showed up this time. The first day, I was told, would be in a pool working on basic skills. I expected a normal swimming pool, but we actually went to a local waterfall that had been dammed up down stream to create a semi natural pool. The class consisted of myself and one other traveller who was staying at the same hostel. We worked on basic paddling and maneuvering and then started to work on eskimo rolls. An eskimo roll is the ability to roll a kayak from upside down to right side up using a lot of hip and a bit of paddle… and from what I could tell, a bit of magic. By the end of the first day I was sore, tired, and still unable to do the roll.
Erin Abseiled this Waterfall While I Kayaked
On the second day of kayaking lessons, we were taken for a trip down the river over some light rapids. It was pretty exciting. I had to bail out of my kayak more than once, and be rescued by the instructor. After the first crash it was a lot less frightening. My classmate had a few spills that day too, but he had figured out the eskimo roll on the first day, so he was a little ahead of me. Throughout the day, we stopped along the shore a few times to go over more techniques and practice our eskimo rolls. I was still having trouble with it. Eventually, we were on a nice slow and deep patch of river. JD, my classmate, did an eskimo roll at the teachers request. Then the instructor looked at me and said “Ok, this is it Tyson, you’re going to do and eskimo roll right here, right now. Go for it!”
I assumed the position, rolled under, and sat for a moment, I regrouped mentally, loosed and tightened my grip on the paddle, and visualized what I wanted to happen. I thrust my right hip “up” and my left knee “down” and popped out of the water like a cork. I had done it. I looked around, amazed as both my companions cheered and clapped. For the first few seconds I didn’t believe I had done it myself. As we neared the end of our route, the instructor told us there was a huge wave just before where we get out of the river, and he wanted us to hit it head on. I was happy to oblige, worst case I crash into water and sure enough, thats what happened. I went straight up the side of that wave, went right upside down, and couldn’t roll out of it, so I had to eject from the kayak and swim to shore… how embarrassing. We were then told that the following day we would hit some harder rapids and do a longer trip.
Erin Whitewater Rafting While I Practiced Eskimo Rolls
The next morning my stomach was in my throat. I was very nervous about hitting bigger rapids. The instructor assured me I would be fine. Worst case, I have to get rescued. I decided to bring my action camera and get some footage. The three of us headed down the river, and more than once I was tossed from the kayak and had to be saved. We then met up with another instructor and a student on his second day. We did some more work on our rolls, and I was introduced to the kayak equivalent of water boarding. The instructor flipped my kayak and then I had to roll to correct it, at which point he would flip it again as fast as he could, over and over until I couldn’t roll anymore. I did six and got it on film. Later on down the river on calm flat water without someone flipping me upside down, I was able to do eight rolls in a row unassisted. It was an amazing feeling of accomplishment.
We finished out the trip and had a few more crashes along the way. When we finally made it to land, we were offered a second run on the river, we both declined. JD had hurt his shoulder in a crash and I was so tired I was worried it would be a safety concern. I had also taken a good bump to the rib cage, courtesy of a large rock, during one of my rescues. So I headed back to the hostel to recover before taking an overnight bus to the Caribbean coast, but I’ll tell you about that in my next story.
Heres the youtube video of my trip down the river.
Posted in Travel, Videowith 4 comments.
Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies: How to Make Friends Anywhere
“When you have more than you need, build a longer table not a higher fence” – Unknown
I have been carrying around this cookie recipe for a while now. It’s proved useful more than once, so I thought I should share it. I modified an existing chocolate chip recipe by adding peanut butter and reducing regular butter. The reason I am a fan of this recipe is that it’s easy, it’s forgiving, and it’s delicious. I once cooked them when we had some downtime on an oil rig. Everybody on that location stopped by to say “Hello” once the word got out. They were gone before the next shift showed up. Most recently, I made two batches for the family Erin and I were staying with in Ecuador. The hardest part was paying for the peanut butter. It can get a little pricy in some countries. The first batch disappeared within a day, so a few days later when we had a power outage, Erin and I lit every candle we could find, and I started baking. Luckily the stove and oven ran on propane. Some day, I intend to try cooking these on an open fire and eventually a car engine… just to prove it can be done… I’ll keep you all posted.
I Like To Light Some Candles To Set The Mood, But Its Not Necessary For The Recipe.
Ingredients: Imperial or Grams or Millilitres
Margarine (or butter) 1 Cup 227 g 237 ml
Brown Sugar 2 Cups 440 g 474 ml
Granulated (white) Sugar 1 Cup 220 g 237 ml
Large Eggs 4 4 4
Vanilla Extract 3 Tsp 15 g 15 ml
Peanut Butter 1 Cup 340 g 237 ml
Flour 4 Cups 500 g 948 ml
Baking Soda 2 Tsp 10 g 10 ml
Semi-Sweet Chocolate Chips 1 Cup 190 g 237 ml
Bake at 350° Fahrenheit or 177° Celsius for 10 to 15 minutes.
Step 1:Mix brown sugar, granulated sugar, flour, and baking soda together in a large bowl.
Dry Goods Mixed Together
Step 2: On low heat, melt the margarine (or butter) and the peanut butter together.
This Part Smells Really Good
Step 3: Pour peanut butter and butter mixture into bowl with dry goods and mix.
Now Mix
Step 4: Add vanilla extract and eggs. Be cautious that the mixture isn’t too hot still from the stove as it will cook the eggs. If mixture is hot, simply wait for it to cool a bit before adding the eggs.
Step 5: If the dough appears too dry (crumbly or powdery), add an extra egg since some eggs are simply smaller than others. If the mixture appears too moist (if you are unable to roll it into small balls the size of an egg), add a small amount of flour and reassess.
Step 6: Add chocolate chips. They are added last to avoid melting into the dough.
Its Pretty Tasty at This Point
Step 7: Roll the dough into a ball about the size of an egg (you can go larger or small if you desire, but try to be consistent). Place the balls of dough spaced apart on a cookie sheet (give each ball about 2 times its width on each side as they will expand out as they cook). After your first tray of cookies, you will have a better idea of spacing and cook time, so don’t stress. Once on the sheet press them down with a fork.
Make Them Into Balls
Press With A Fork
Step 8: Bake cookies in the oven for 10 to 15 minutes. Watch for the edges starting to darken and the over all gloss of the cookies to change.
What They Look Like Coming Out. I Had To Bend The Cookies Sheet Ends To Make It Fit In The Oven.
Step 9: Remove cookies from the oven, allow to cool for a minute or two before removing from the pan, as it will allow them to firm up and come off easier. Place them on a cooling rack, wax paper, a large plate, really anything that they can sit on and cool for a while. Inspect to see if they are too doughy inside or burnt on the bottom and adjust the cook time on the next batch to go into the oven.
Repeat steps 7 through 9 until all cookie dough is gone. This makes about 4 dozen cookies depending on the size of the actual cookies. You may want to half this recipe. Then again, having too many cookies isn’t a problem that I’ve ever had.
Lastly, comment below and let me know how yours turn out!
Posted in How-To, Recipewith 2 comments.
Home Invasion In Ecuador
Its amazing how the mind functions in high stress situations. I remember looking and thinking “That looks like it might be a Sig. Where did he get a Sig?” I guess I was looking too closely as I then felt the tread of a boot gently tap the back of my head causing my chin to hit the hardwood and clap my teeth together… hard. And to think, the day was going so well up to this point.
We left Quito late in the morning and drove to Otavalo to see their famous market. It was Liz’s birthday so we thought a short trip would be nice. There were seven of us split between two cars: Erin and I, Liz and her two sons and friend of the family Rafael and his niece. Erin and I rode with the boys while Liz rode with Rafael and his niece. Along the way we stopped at Lago San Pablo. We did a short boat tour, where Erin and I began chatting with some older ladies after I smiled really wide in the background of their selfie. I always seem to make friends with people old enough to be my parents, or grand parents. We then had a delicious lunch in the restaurant that had an amazing view of the lake.
Cruisin’ Around The Lake
They Also Had Llamas
We wandered up and down the narrow pathways between the booths looking at all the amazing hand crafted wool items. Among the many great things were wool ponchos. Naturally I had to buy one. Paulo was kind enough to translate for me in the bartering process. The initial price was $22 and we haggled, dickered and ground her down to… $18. Not my finest work but it was a nice poncho. We then loaded up and headed home.
Soft and Cozy Alpaca Wool
We arrived back at the house after dark, around 8:30 pm. We were just relaxing, looking on our phones, and slowly making a plan for dinner. Then Rafael’s car alarm went off, I didn’t think much of it as there are always car alarms going off here. Much like at home, its usually over nothing. Rafael was quick to his feet and ran out the door to check it out. I heard a scuffle at the door, and Mateo, in some of the quickest thinking I have ever witnessed, told us to hide our phones. Confused, I stood up and put it in my pocket, then immediately realized the we were being robbed and the scuffle was Rafael exhibiting great bravery by trying to pull the door shut while people tried to get in. I quickly pulled my phone out of my pocket and tossed it under the couch I was sitting on. In almost the same second, Rafael came around the corner into the living room and was pushed to the ground by a man with a pistol. It looked like a silver Sig 226. I got on the ground, following Mateo’s lead, as a second man entered holding a flat head screw driver. They both had an interest in making sure I stayed on the ground, as I was about 8 inches taller than both of them. I was looking closely at the man with the gun while the man with the screw driver stood over me. I remember the gunman was wearing a red bandana that had just slipped off his nose. It was at this point that his companion stepped on the back of my head, as a reminder to keep it down. He then started asking for phones, Erin and I both said “No telephono” so he patted us both down. He took from me my wallet and my pocket knife, he then motioned at my watch. I slipped it off and handed it to him.
When the men first came through the door, Liz and Rafael’s niece ran onto the balcony and closed the door behind them. The gunman never found them, or bothered to go get them. Paulo was in the washroom and quickly shut off the light when he realized what was happening but it was too late, as the gunman saw the light flip off. He kicked the door in and took Paulos cell phone and then proceeded to take Erin’s and my day packs along with Liz’s computer and camera.
I didn’t really hear it at the time, but Liz’s brother, Miguel, who lives in the apartment above her, heard the yelling and stomping of Rafael trying to close the door on the men. He sounded the alarm in his house which made the thieves hurry as they knew police were on the way. My adrenaline was pumping so hard, in my mind I thought it was the car alarm, in hind sight it was so loud, in other circumstances one might call it deafening. The whole thing was over in under two minutes. As the men ran out of the house, Paulo in a fit of quick thinking and bravery, ran out to catch a glimpse of the car and try to get the plate number, they were too fast for him to get the plate but he did see the car. The police arrived within minutes of the ordeal ending, their response time was impressive but unfortunately there just isn’t a lot they can do, or perhaps are willing to do, in these scenarios.
We told the police everything we could, which wasn’t a lot since it was so fast. We then went back in the house and did a quick inventory. Luckily our passports were untouched and they had missed Erin’s purse, but they did take her backpack which had a photocopy of her passport. My pack that was stolen didn’t have much of value, an old sweater, a water bottle, some toilet paper…they are going to be seriously sad when they open my pack and cashless wallet. Erin’s pack had her rain coat and, sadly, our flashy new camera lens as well as $60 cash. Luckily our camera was somehow left behind in Erin’s purse on the bed.
After the police left, we all kind of sat around and discussed where each one of us was, I also made a point of thanking Mateo for his quick thinking to hide the phones, Rafael for doing his best to stop them or at least delay them, and Miguel for sounding the alarm. Considering what happened and how things COULD have gone, we all got lucky. We did our best to fix the kicked in bathroom door, called friends just so we could tell someone. Erin and I agreed we would wait till the morning to tell our parents, f0r sanity’s sake.
The rest of the night and into the following day, I couldn’t help but wonder what I could have done differently. It was almost like a survivors guilt. Would it have helped if I charged at the gunman? I’m sure if I grabbed his gun with my left hand and his throat with my right I could have shoved him right out the door, along with his friend. While we were laying on the ground I could have simply grabbed the screw driver wielders boot flipped him and over powered him, but that still left an armed gunman in the back of the house. I know I did the right thing by shutting up and cooperating, but it still feels wrong. I think the worst injury or loss was my pride, it hurts to stand down, even if by all measures it was the right thing to do. Playing hero could have gotten people killed.
My guess is that the two men were simply trying to rob the car and saw a golden opportunity for a home robbery. I base this on the damage to the locks on Rafael’s car and the fact that one of the men had a screw driver. Had they wanted to do a home invasion it would have made more sense to bring the gun and a knife, simply kick the car to sound the alarm and then wait for someone to run out.
The next day, Erin and I went to the shop, and began replacing our stolen items. A cheap backpack and some headphones, and a pair of sunglasses later, we are almost back to normal. They stole my sweater too, but luckily for me they left my new poncho. When we got home from our shopping trip, we realized that on their way out, the thieves had also made off with Erin’s hiking boots that had been sitting by the door, which to her, was the most personal insult. Its a day I won’t soon forget, and I can still feel the indignity of that boot on the back of my head and the pain of my teeth grinding together. I feel the worst for Liz, she had a lot of important things on that computer, and her birthday was going so well before the break in.
Erin’s perspective:
At first I didn’t know what was going on. Mateo told me to hide my phone, so I did. Then a guy walked in with a gun and pointed it at me, motioning for me to get on the ground. It was surreal. I thought to myself “There is a gun pointing at me, I should lie down”. When he began yelling “TELEFONO TELEFONO” I thought to my phone lying inches away under the sofa and replied “No telefono, lo siento, lo siento”. He patted me down, and checked all my pockets, and I remember hoping he didn’t get too handsy. He didn’t.
After it was over, I felt very calm. It seemed totally unreal to me. I hovered awkwardly while the boys talked to the police in Spanish, and Tyson showed them pictures of the type of gun he thought it was. I caught the eye of Rafael’s niece, who ran into my arms for a hug. She was shaking like a leaf, and I’m an awkward person, so my first thought was to make her some tea. I think I just needed something to focus on, and she was it. I was really okay with the whole situation. I just felt so lucky that they didn’t get my camera, my iPad, my phone, my computer, my passport, my bankcards, or the big stash of cash we had in our room. I was totally zen about it until the next afternoon when I realized they had taken my hiking boots on the way out the door and I immediately burst into hot angry tears. Apparently that is my line, and they crossed it.
Posted in Travelwith 6 comments.
Ecuador: Spanish Lessons and Fighting Roosters
“It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to” – Bilbo Baggins
How on earth, did I end up at an Ecuadorian cock fighters training grounds? It was an amazing sight to see, but I thought it was illegal everywhere… actually come to think of it, the whole place did seem kind of clandestine and had a certain “this isn’t technically legal” feel about it, nobody offered a straight answer when I asked, so I wasn’t going to ask again. I didn’t know people still bet on fighting chickens, nor did I realize they took it so seriously. Lets recap how I got here.
Our flight left New York early in the morning of the 16th, a Friday. It landed late in the day in Quito, Ecuador. I was tired, confused, and a little hungry. It was at this point I started to realize just how hard it might be to travel in a Spanish speaking country. Luckily airports are well labelled with pictures and multiple languages. We essentially walked through customs, which was strange, I half expected a tricky line of questioning and a search. I guess trust is an advantage given to Canadian travellers, because I have never had more than about two questions asked while crossing a border. We were told that a long time friend of Erin’s aunt would pick us up at the airport and we would stay with her in Quito while we took Spanish lessons.
We walked out of the customs area to find that there was no one waiting for us. My initial instinct was to worry, but I figured she was just running a few minutes late. I used the bathroom while Erin watched the luggage and then we switched. While I was watching the luggage I saw a woman and a young man point at me and wave, Erin’s aunt had sent them a picture and I guess I wasn’t too hard to spot. They came over just as Erin came back. We did some introductions, their names were Liz and Paulo, and we chatted for a moment. Their english was very impressive. We loaded our gear into their car and made the lengthy but scenic drive from the airport to their home. Shortly after we arrived at the house, I went with Paulo in the car to get some chicken and pizza. The chicken was delicious and I believe the pizza was better than what I had in New York. Erin maintains the New York Pizza is superior, but honestly, who are you going to believe? I finally pulled my shoes off at 10 pm, and it felt great. It was time to get some sleep, I had a feeling Saturday was likely to be something exciting.
View of Quito From Our Balcony
My initial thoughts on Quito is that it is an old city (ok thats more fact than thought) with narrow streets, and the driving system is essentially chaos. The driving on the road is much like a mix of fish swimming in a stream and people walking on a sidewalk, there are no real rules and everyone is just watching for everyone else and doing their own thing. Its surprisingly efficient and after two weeks, I am yet to see any kind of accident.
The next morning began for me at about 9:30, I got out of bed and had a quick shower, which is about the best thing you can have after a long flight. I then had a chat with Liz about anthropology, as she works as an anthropologist and I have an anthro degree. Her younger son Mateo, 18, made us breakfast and chatted for a bit. He explained that he might want to train to be a chef, based on his breakfast, I’d say he could pull it off. Over breakfast we also discussed options for what to do for the day. Eventually it was decided the we should take a bus to the older part of Quito, known in english as “Old Town” and in spanish as “Ciudad Antiguo”. It was amazing to see the architecture of the various churches and museums in the area along with all the unique shops. Towards the end of the day we decided that we should take a taxi home. We flagged one down, hopped in, and then I realized there was no seatbelt on my side. The taxi took off and began weaving through traffic, running red lights and passing cars on a solid line. I watched in amazement that we hadn’t gotten into an accident. When we arrived back at the house, I unlatched my hand from the handle on the roof and we got out. I looked at Erin and said “Quite a ride hey?” to which she replied “Oh I didn’t notice, I fell asleep”.
Old Town Quito
You Can Buy All Kinds Of Great Things In The Shops
The next day, Sunday, we figured it would be a good idea to walk to our chosen Spanish school to verify its location and existence, as we would be starting lessons the next morning. Paulo offered to chaperone for us while Liz stayed at the house and took care of some things for work. We walked down the street it was supposed to be on and couldn’t find it, so we walked up and down some of the neighbouring streets in case there was a slight typo or it moved. We couldn’t seem to find it, so we walked back to the house to email the school and ask if they had moved.
When we got back to the house, Liz offered to drive us and have another look. She said she was procrastinating her work and wanted us to enable her, being a former student I was happy to oblige. We drove to the address, where upon we realized that the sign and entrance for the school could only be seen from the west side. We had walked we walked from the east.. oops.
Liz then offered to take us to a book store as I had previously mentioned that I had finished my book while on the plane from New York. We went, and luckily the book store had an english section. Sadly its selection resembled that of a grocery store book section. I finally found something that wasn’t a bad romance, “Call of the Wild” by Jack London, I had never read it before and it looked good. Erin and I also grabbed a children’s book in Spanish to attempt to read later.
The following Monday to Friday we had school from 8:30 to 12:30. Heres a quick recap. Monday morning when I first woke up Liz told me to go on the balcony to see Cotopaxi. I ran up and saw in the distance a volcano billowing smoke. I immediately ran to the bedroom and grabbed the camera to get some pictures. I was assured that it had been doing this for months already and that we were well out of the danger zone. After class we went for lunch where I accidentally mistook hot sauce for ketchup, which thoroughly unpleasant. After dinner Mateo showed me some yoga, he is very into it and wanted to show me some techniques that might help with my stomach aches. It was a pleasant experience and I see why so many of my friends back home do it. I also had to chuckle because I wonder how many of them would be jealous of me having a handsome young man with a Spanish accent as an instructor. After yoga we realized that everyone else in the house had gone to bed and the car was still on the street. I guess its not safe to leave a car on the street over night in Quito. Mateo asked me to drive the car for him to the garage they were renting a few blocks away. I jumped at the chance to say I have driven in another country. Its just a good thing I can drive manual.
Cotopaxi (Photo From Our Balcony)
After school on the second day we walked to the local museum and then relaxed. Third day, Wednesday, after class we went to a post office and sent a few post cards as thank yous from our wedding. We then headed back to the house and had some lunch. Erin went back to the school to meet up with classmates and take a city bus tour, I got some rest and watched a movie. Fourth day, Thursday, we had a school field trip to a cultural museum just north of Quito. Along the way we stopped and did a hike to some waterfalls. The bus ride was amazing, it was all roads on the edge of steep mountains, we made one corner and the landscape went from what looked like the Alberta badlands to lush jungle. The museum wasn’t too great as my Spanish is too limited to understand it.
Erin and me Beside a Waterfall
On the Friday, we met up with a friend from school and had a few drinks in some bars in an area of the city known as Mariscal. Its the main area for things like hostels and bars. I had 2.5 oversized Ecuadorian pilsners and bored our English friend with stories about hunting, oil rigging, and maple syrup. He seemed interested, but maybe he was just being polite. He also informed me that I fit nearly every Canadian stereotype he knew… not sure how I feel about that… flattered? We took a cab home from the bar, despite home only being a few blocks away we were told several times that walking home at night is a sure-fire way to get robbed.
At 6:15 my alarm began screeching at me. I stood up and was immediately reminded why I drink so rarely, I also learned that drinking at a high altitude increases the effects of alcohol both in the fun stage and the recovery stage. Why on earth were we up this early on a Saturday after a night out? Well, we were headed to Mindo. Liz has a friend who owns a farm out there and we were invited to visit. We were told we would be leaving at around 7 am, and until about 6:55 am, we were under the impression that it was only for the day. When we found we were staying overnight, Erin and I scrambled to pack tooth brushes and a change of clothes. The two hour drive through the mountains would have been amazing had I not been hungover, in a country short on public toilets. Luckily that didn’t turn into a story in itself.
We arrived at the farm and were both amazed at how beautiful it was. It consisted of multiple buildings: a main house, the workers house, a kitchen, dining hall, several cabins, and a swimming pool. We later found out that the original plan had been to convert the farm to a resort but the idea never got off the ground. We were given a quick tour and shown the three Tilapia ponds, suspension bridge, and banana orchard. I went for a quick dip in the pool with Paulo and Mateo. Afterwards, I went for a short walk and was able to get some photos of Toucans. We had a big lunch at about 3:30 served on a large table set up on the lawn. It reminded me of the big farm lunches you see Amish people have in movies.
Main house (Pink) Care Taker’s house (Blue)
Tilapia Pond and Duck House
A Water System That Runs From a Stream in The Mountains Right Through The Yard
Praying Mantis
Suspension Bridge
Toucan
Toucan
During lunch, it was mentioned that the care taker for the property also made money in rooster fighting. He raised and trained fighting roosters. After lunch we were asked if we wanted to see the roosters. I said sure, assuming they were somewhere on the property. I was mistaken. We loaded into two vehicles and drove through town and then to another farm where the care taker and his business partner raised the roosters. On the drive I asked, off handedly, if rooster fighting was legal in Ecuador. I couldn’t get a definitive answer. As best I can tell, its not illegal, but only because people know a ban on it wouldn’t work. The man showed us all of his various roosters, about a dozen, and proudly explained little details. They remove the feathers form the roosters legs to increase speed and mobility. When they roost, they do so on a soft rubber hose suspended a foot or two off the ground, so that they strengthen their legs and increase their balance. Spikes are attached on the backs of the legs during fights (I’m told in Peru they attach blades). There are also different hair styles for the fights, for example sometimes they shave a strip of feathers off of the roosters back, purely for aesthetic purposes. Some of the roosters even had microchip trackers on them because they were worth so much. I would later find out that a champion rooster is worth up to $10,000 USD. On our way out of the rooster farm we came across another rare sight, a blind snake (imagine a two foot long earth worm, with a snakes head devoid of eyes) eating an earthworm. We took some pictures but none of us were brave enough to touch it.
Champion Rooster
Champion Rooster
Roosting On Rubber Hose
Blind Snake Eating An Earthworm
Later that night at supper we were still discussing the finer details of cock fighting. I learned that the owner of a winning rooster could make up to $5000 USD in a fight. After dinner, the caretakers wife, who also lived and worked on the farm, ran to their truck and grabbed the spikes to show me. They had a silver base, and a long curved spike, a little thicker than a tooth pick, and about the length of my pinky finger, I was told it was made out of tortoise or turtle shell (there was a bit of a language barrier).
New Spikes
Very Sharp Tips
They Are Resharpened and Reused
The following morning we had a large traditional breakfast. It was eggs, cheese, and onion all fried with “verde” a type of green banana. It tasted like really good scrambled eggs. Erin and I went for another quick walk up a nearby mountain, and then we all hit the road and headed home to Quito.
We Hiked A Short Way Up The Nearby Mountain And Took This Photo of The Farm
Found this Cuddly Fellow on The Blinds In The Morning
En route to the city, we stopped for lunch at a roadside restaurant. The owner clearly knew our companions. He greeted us all with a big smile and a hearty handshake, hug, or kiss on the cheek, depending on who you were. I only got a handshake. The food was good but more interestingly, there were about ten bird feeders surrounded by humming birds, and they weren’t afraid of people. We walked right up and watched them, after a while I stuck my hand out and got one to land on my finger, but only for a moment. All in all, it was quite a week. My Spanish has only improved slightly, but I now know a lot about Ecuadorian Cock Fighting. Hopefully that information will never be useful to me.
There Were At Least A Dozen Species
I Was Able To Get Close Enough to Touch Some
One of Many Beautiful Birds
I do not support forcing animals to fight each other and I have even less interest in betting on it. That said, I was surprised to learn how important and useful it is to the local culture. I was told that it is a great way for men to make money, but more importantly it prevents a lot of violence. It supposedly does this two ways. First, it gives men an excuse to get together and discuss their problems, instead resorting to violence. Secondly, in some instances, they will let their roosters do the fighting for them. The most important thing to remember, and I have to remind myself of this sometimes, is that I am simply an observer, my role is to watch and learn and I have to do my best not to judge, or worse, speak, through the lens that my society has given me.
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A New York start to our New Adventure
“I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” – Blanche DuBois, Streetcar Named Desire
We flew from Edmonton to New York via Toronto ten days after our wedding. We left our friends, families, jobs and home behind in the early morning twilight hours. We arrived in New York at 8:30 pm. From the airplane window, the city appeared to be an endless blanket of lights. I don’t know that I have ever seen anything so big, so intimidating.
New York at Night
We struggled to get directions to our hotel, but luckily New Yorkers are far nicer than their reputation would have you believe. It should have been a shuttle to a subway, to another subway, then a walk up the stairs to our hotel. Everything was fine until I decided we were on the wrong train. We jumped off at the Aqueduct Racetrack and debated our options until I realized I was an idiot and we had actually been on the right train all along. So we waited twenty embarrassing minutes for the next one to come along. We eventually found our way to the hotel and checked in without issue. After walking a few blocks in each direction looking for a place to grab some food, we finally settled on pizza. It was Broadway Pizza and Brooklyn beer, a highly recommendable combination after a long day of traveling. Or anytime really.
Supper Fit For a King
Day two began with Erin waking me up at 10 am saying she had already gotten coffee, called her mom, and bought us tickets to a broadway show. It was a lot to wake up to. We grabbed bagels for breakfast (because, New York), then walked south along the west edge of central park to the American Museum of Natural History (cue girlish sqeal).
Working on my New York modelling. #babesofnewyork
Getting this close to a live one is not recommended. (Alternate caption: A Tyson in its natural habitat)
The park was nice and the museum was huge. I could have spent days there if Erin would let me. We then walked down Broadway to Times Square. We briefly wandered into Macy’s, the worlds largest store (not fact checked), and it was terrifying. After Erin saw the line for the women washroom, we decided to exit Macy’s post haste. We then went to check out the Empire State Building, from the bottom and lobby only, since a ride to the top will set you back $32.
My face should tell you what I think of this store
Time Square at night
That evening, we grabbed some dinner from a street vendor, and headed off to see the Broadway show that Erin had bought tickets for that morning. The show was titled “Wicked” and based on the “Wizard of Oz”, mostly the relationship between Alphaba, the “wicked” witch of the north and Glinda the Good, witch of the west. It blew our minds. Highly recommended. We then walked the 50 ish blocks (yes) back to our hotel, stopping at a diner for a much needed late night meal.
Bilboard for “Wicked” in Times Square
On day three, we had bagels again and took the subway south to the Staten Island Ferry. The ferry is free and provides an excellent view of the city skyline and the Statue of Liberty. Many tourists take the ferry to Staten Island, then turn around and get on the next ferry back to Manhattan. We wandered around Staten Island for a while before heading back to Lower Manhattan to see Wall Street.
Lady Liberty
It amazed me how tall and close together the buildings were. At the end of wall street was Trinity church, complete with its weathered grave stones. From there it was a short walk to the 9/11 memorial. We then walked back to Times Square and grabbed some food from a street vendor. Erin needed it. She was losing steam fast. Next, on a whim, we walked to the Rockefellar centre, which took us right past the Time and Life building where they filmed for “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty”, a personal favourite of mine. Rockefellar turned out to be quite a sight to see, complete with statues and a skating rink. We walked back to central park so I could search a candy shop for coconut M&Ms (no luck) and then to Best Buy for an external hard drive for all the pictures on our trip. From there it was a short subway ride back to our hotel, some more pizza while we got organized for our early morning departure.
View of the new One World Trade Centre from the base of the Twin Towers memorial
Like a kid in a candy store
Day four began at about five am when I rolled out of bed and laced on my shoes. Erin had mapped a 66 minute route to the airport via the subway and an express train. I failed to realize that the express train and the E train were two different trains, going to the same location at very different speeds. My foolishness added a half of an hour of travel via a very crowded subway. I’m talking New York Subway during morning rush hour crowded. We finally made it to the airport, but our problems weren’t entirely over yet. While checking in for our flight, we were informed that we needed proof that we intended to leave Ecuador before they would let us on the plane. Erin and I had not planned a return flight or a bus out, planning to travel on a more open ended trip. The Ecuadorian government, understandably, doesn’t care for this particular approach. Luckily, the airline bookings counter let us use their computer to book a bus ticket, talk about supporting the competition, and the lady at the airline check in let us use her personal phone to retrieve the confirmation from Erin’s email. We were finally on the plane and airborne, Ecuador bound… But thats another story for another week.
We walked passed Trump Tower, and I could. not. resist.
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Brown Trout Fishing
For a few years now, I have been lugging my fly rod with me every time I go into the mountains. Once there, I do my best impression of a fisherman, and on rare occasion, catch a few fish. Erin and I are about to do some travelling, and I’ve decided that I want to bring my fly rod with me to try my luck at fishing in South America. The southern parts of South America are famous for their trout fishing – an opportunity that’s hard to pass up. The problem is that everything I know about fly fishing could only fill a small pamphlet. So, I decided to reach out. I mentioned on my Facebook page that I needed someone who knew a lot about fishing to take me out and actually show me. As luck would have it, my friend, and former co-worker, Eric was kind enough to offer his expertise. A few days after he had responded to my desperate plea on Facebook, a plan was hatched and in motion.
I met him on the south side of Edmonton and I jumped in his car. He them promptly made me swear on the fly tiers bible that I wouldn’t tell anyone the location of his fishing spot. He then blindfolded me and we hit the road. Ok, I made that last sentence up for dramatic effect, but he was serious about me not telling anyone about his spot. We drove for quite a while and finally found ourselves parked just off the road beside a nice slow moving creek. We dawned our waders and assembled our rods I stuffed the rest of my gear into the top half of my waders and tied on a small foam beetle that was handed to me. We wandered down the slick, grassy bank and finally got our boots wet.
We started working our way up river. The first while was mostly Eric explaining what I needed to know, and gauging where I was at as a fisherman. He explained to me some of the basics of where the trout like to hide – mostly underneath overhangs that like to catch hooks, and slow moving patches of water. He was also adamant that I should never let there be too much slack in the line. Eventually we made it far enough up river that there was space for both of us to fish. The first few hours of the day passed by uneventfully, mostly just me getting some much needed casting practice, and losing hooks on the back cast.
We came around a bend in the river, with calm slow moving water, and, suddenly, there was a gulp followed by a splash. Eric had the first fish of the day. He set the hook and lifted his rod, and that fish went insane. It skidded across the surface thrashing and splashing the entire way. I had no idea these little trout had that much fight in them. Eventually the trout was in the fisherman’s hands. Eric grinned and said, “See, beetles”.
I’m not sure how it happened, but he caught another fish almost immediately after the first. And another soon after that. Somewhere in the madness we started joking that it was “beetle-mania!”. A few more minutes passed, and we wandered and casted our way a few more meters upstream. We started throwing our beetles under some overhanging spruce trees. They had grown strong and tall but the ground had been washed out underneath, leaving what Eric said is a great place for trout to sit and wait for food. He wasn’t wrong. Within a few casts I had a good hit, but couldn’t set the hook. Soon my guide had a real fight on his hands, I could hear his reel whining. I started digging out my camera and walking towards him. This was clearly going to be a fish worth taking a photo of… based on the bend of his fishing rod and the grin on his face. While wading over I let my fly drift, and POW! A trout took it and spit it right out, another close call. I had too much slack in the line it seems. Eventually Eric’s fish was in his hands, and it was a beauty. I dont know much about brown trout, but it was the biggest one I’ve ever seen up close (given that I have 1 day of brown trout experience).
Biggest Fish of The Day
We kept working our way up river, all the while laughing about those silly foam beetles working so well. Just when I was least expecting, it finally happened. I was just wading along, minding my own business, when I felt that tug on the line. That rod tip pull that that inexplicably seems to have a hard-line to your chest. Words can’t quite describe. I lifted my rod tip immediately and set the hook. This time, I had the fish. I started stripping line in, and the fish started trying to prevent that. Eventually, I overpowered the brave little trout, but I never broke his spirit. As I reached to grab the leader to pull the little fish closer for inspection, it gave a wild thrash, a white flash, and made a dash. That’s right, I pulled it right in, and never managed to get a hand on it.
Oh well, I’m still counting it as a catch.
As we wandered up river, I started to pay more attention to the scenery, since it seemed the fish lost interest in biting.
Fixer Upper, but Good Location
The afternoon eventually arrived, and we had reached our exit from the river. We decided that we weren’t quite ready to quit, so we went a little past our intended exit… just in case there were hungry fish up that way. Sure enough, Eric caught another trout, just to make sure he established his fishing supremacy. In all fairness, he has been fishing for a long time, and wasn’t gloating about his success. In fact, he was quite humble about it, and continually answered questions and offered advice. I was happy to be under his tutelage.
We decided that enough of the day had passed, and we had better get back home. We climbed up the slick river bank, and walked back a kilometer or two over a grasshopper infested field and down the road. I’ve gotta say, walking on dry land with waders on is kind of unpleasant, and crossing through a barbed wire fence with a nine foot long fly rod while wearing ill fitting waders can certainly cause one to use creative language. It was still worth it. We found the car right where we left it, changed out of our gear, and headed for home, Eric having put in just another day on the water, and me, having, likely quadrupled my fly fishing knowledge… and only having caught one fish, almost.
The most important lesson I learned was to never let there be slack in the line, and to be quick to set the hook. Any hesitation can cost you a fish. I also learned that beetles work really well, at least on that particular day in that particular spot. If it’s anything like the kinds of fishing I’ve done, those beetle might never work again. That’s why I have a whole tackle box full of hooks that I might use again someday, or that used to work really well. I suspect that someday I will have a fly box with a similar story, but that’s part of the fun of fishing.
By the way, in case you were curious, here’s a picture of a foam beetle like the ones we were using. This one was tied by my friend Clay, this pattern along with a great many more can be purchased through his website Frenzy Custom Flies. Hopefully it works as well for you as it did for us, but like anything fishing, no promises… other than it’ll be better than a day at work.
Foam Beetle
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Geraldine Lakes
To my knowledge, my future Canada Days are booked indefinitely, for Erin’s family’s reunions. To be fair, Erin’s August long weekends are also booked, forever, as my family get together. But this year, something strange happened, Erin’s family skipped the reunion, and I was now stuck with a stat holiday on a Wednesday. It was obvious that I only had one choice, book the Thursday and Friday off as well, and run as far away from the city as I could Maybe bring Erin with me. I have recently uploaded a video with some of the footage of the hike, here’s the link.
On Tuesday, Erin and I both came straight home from work and packed all of our camping gear and went to bed. After a sleepless insomnia kind of night, we got out of bed at 4:30 am. Erin started driving and I started sleeping. By about 9 am we were in Jasper, just in time for the visitors center to open so we could get fishing licenses and a back country permit.
We went in to the center and were helped by a very friendly older gentleman. We told him our intent was to hike Geraldine Lakes and do some fishing. Immediately he warned us of the dangers of the hike, as did our guide book. The hike consists of several steep patches of climbing up boulders and rubble and if it is a wet season the rocks can become very slippery. The hike is not recommended for beginners. We heard this from multiple workers at the info center, books, and websites. I was glad they were looking out for hikers, but it was starting to sound like a broken record. We assured everyone that we were experience hikers and that we had sturdy boots and hiking poles – both of these items are worth their weight in gold when hiking. While there, I asked about the fishing in the lakes along the trail. The man helping us drew a blank, as evidenced by his deep-in-though stare into the distance, and said, “I’m not sure”.
He began asking his coworkers if anyone knew anything about the fishing in the multiple lakes along the trail. No one seemed to have a clue. Suddenly, an idea struck the man helping us! He wandered into the back and returned with a dusty old coiled binder that consisted of weathered pages that had clearly been photocopied long before I was born. Based on the font, the original had been typed before my parents were born. It was a book with maps of most of the lakes in the park as well as lists of which lakes had been stocked with what fish. He then explained that in the 1930s the tourist information center used to have a fish hatchery in the basement, and park workers would take the fish to stock the lakes. The Geraldine Lakes, it turns out, had been stocked with brook and cutthroat trout in the mid 1930s. No restocking or reports since then… I bought the licence and packed my fishing gear anyway.
We drove to the trail head, I was pretty excited when we turned off the main highway. I was led to believe that it would be a bit of a tricky “off-road trail”. I guess the guide book throws that term around pretty loosely. We finally reached the trail head and parked beside a lovely little hatchback that the owner had accidentally left the window down on. Erin and I changed into our hiking gear, put on some sunscreen, grabbed our hiking poles, and hit the trail. The first portion of the trail ran along the edge of the first lake and was relatively flat and treed in. Eventually we came out of the trees at the bottom of an old rock slide with a waterfall running alongside it. A quick scan of the area and the cairns at the top made it clear, it was time to climb. We slowly made our way up the first rock slide. Once at the top we wandered through some more trees. Eventually, the landscape opened up and we were standing on the edge of a small rocky valley, almost completely devoid of any vegetation. There was, however, a hoary marmot sunning himself on a rock and it clearly did not care that we were there. We opted to keep our distance anyway. We crossed the rocky valley which also took us across the stream that connects all of the Geraldine lakes. As we walked along a large pond that the stream created, I saw a lot of small fish rising and feeding. I was ecstatic to see this, any fisherman gets excited when he sees fish rising. More importantly, this meant that this pond that was part of the Geraldine lakes chain, but was too small to actually be a lake, had supported a trout population since the 1930s. This meant that the lake at our campsite would most likely also contain fish, and hopefully they were as hungry as these fish. I didn’t want to risk running out of daylight, and I was worried that the trail might get a lot harder. So we decided to keep hiking and fish the second Geraldine lake by our campsite, once we got set up.
First Geraldine Lake
Catching Some Rays
The Pond Full of Hungry Fish
We walked a narrow path around the pond which turned into a treed trail that followed the stream, It was around this time that the trail turned back into hopping boulders. On one stretch that consisted of apple sized gravel, Erin spotted a very large spider… and it had an egg sack on it. Naturally my first instinct was to kill it, preferably with fire. I then realized it could probably hold its own against me in hand to hand combat. Instead of getting violent, Erin and I just snapped a few photos and walked away. I did look over my shoulder a few times to make sure it wasn’t following us.
NNNOOOOOPPPPEEE
The forest we were walking through slowly turned to shrubs. We could now see the second waterfall, and our next climb. We decided to stop at a nice clearing by the stream and have a snack before attempting the climb, I would need the energy. For lunch we had Erin’s world famous boiled eggs. It was exactly what I was craving that day, which is lucky because it was the only lunch option anyway.
We Stopped Beside This Stream For Lunch
We came up to the waterfall and looked at the trail. It looked bad. To me, it looked almost straight up and covered in loose shale with patches of icy snow. Erin wasn’t even phased, but I was terrified. I hate heights, so I just started climbing. It soon became clear that I had been too short sighted, and accidentally ended up on a more difficult track. I slowly, and carefully, climbed across the incline back onto the trail and resumed climbing. Eventually I got almost to the top, then Erin pointed out that I had gone too far and had to climb down a bit and cross a patch of snow to get back on the trail. In my delirious and terrified state, I decided against climbing down and then across. Instead I would just shimmy my way in a straight line to the trail where Erin was now standing, and spectating. As soon as I changed directions I knocked a rock the size of a soccer ball loose. As I watched it tumble down the hill picking up speed and bouncing higher and higher off the ground I started to question my decision making skills. I had a seat and slowly slid my way across a patch of icy sun melted snow and inched my way toward Erin. I made it, but believe me there was no shortage of swearing.
Time To Climb
Skidding Back Over, Eventually I’ll Put My Camera Footage On Youtube
View From The Top
Just A Little More Bouldering To Get To The Top
Finally we were there: Second Geraldine Lake. Now we just had to walk around it. It’s about 1 km of boulder hopping. Careful stepping and use of poles for support is both slow and exhausting. Interestingly, along the edge of the lake was a tin canoe that was chained and locked to a tree. My belief is that someone had flown it in, I simply cant imagine it being portaged in. The fact that someone had gone through the bother of bringing in a canoe gave me more faith that there were fish in this lake.
The Second Geraldine Lake
We finally hopped, braced, and crawled our way to the campsite. We set up our tent and hung our food up so the bears couldn’t get it. I then assembled my fly rod and headed for the shoreline, Erin decided to come along and keep me company while I fished. I quickly learned that the water was too cold to stand in, so I found a nice rock along the shore to stand on. I threw my first casts… and they were disastrous. It appears that over the winter, I had forgotten how to cast a fly rod. After an hour or two my casts were starting to get a little better.
At This Point I Was Just Practicing My Casting
A Nice Photo Erin Got
I could see fish swimming in the lake, all about 3 inches long, but I couldn’t seem to get anyone interested in my hook. After some unsuccessful fishing, and a loss of patience on my part, we headed back to have some dinner. We ate some dehydrated meals I had previously made for a hunting trip that didn’t work out. While eating dinner we had a nice chat with two other hikers who had arrived while we were fishing. After dinner we decided we were tired enough for bed, so that was we did.
Just A River Running Through Our Kitchen
I Don’t Like To Share Food With The Wildlife
It’s My Blog, I’ll Post Pictures Of Myself… Erin Says I’m Handsome..
The evening was a little cold, especially for Erin. She was so cocooned in her sleeping bag I wondered if I would wake up next to a butterfly. When morning came Erin thawed out fast. It was a little funny for me to see her struggle to emerge from her sleeping bag. I eventually drug myself out of bed and we had some oatmeal for breakfast. We then tore down camp and started heading out, I decided not to bother trying to fish the lake again there didn’t appear to be any action on it anyway. We worked our way across the boulder field we had crossed the day before and started working our way down the steep slope at the waterfall. Erin put my action camera on her head and told me to cross first. With a lot of shaky weight on my hiking poles, I finally made it across the patch of snow only to have Erin start throwing snowballs at me… at least shes got a sense of humor I guess. As I continued my cautious walk down, I heard a lot of shale move above me. I quickly turned to see Erin sitting on the side of the hill. My first though was that she started to slip so she sat down. I asked
“Is the camera still running?”
“Is that seriously your first question?”
“Well…. would you like me to throw snowballs at you? It helped me.”
“I’m not OK!”
“Oh crap, what happened?!”
She then explained that she lost her footing, and her knee twisted and took the brunt of the slid. Injured legs are bad, but they’re really bad on a hike, and they’re really really bad at the top of the first of two steep cliffs on a trail made of awkward sized boulders. She sat a moment, collected herself, and assessed how injured she was. Luckily, Erin is a lot tougher than the likes of you or me and she was able to stand up and keep moving. We made our way to the bottom of the hill and to the pond. I decided to stop and try some fishing, since the fish had been so active the day before. As I put my fishing rod together, we noticed another marmot had taken an interest in the trail mix Erin was snacking on. It kept disappearing into the rocks and re appearing a few feet closer. At its closest, it was probably only about six feet from Erin, at which point she noticed how big the claws on a marmot are and quickly stood up. The marmot, upon realizing Erin’s size, did a very impressive 180 and scrambled away, struggling to get traction on the smooth boulders.
Back Down By The Waterfall
Bigger Claws Than I Expected
“Get My Good Side”
It’s Cute So It Gets Lots Of Pictures
With the wildlife excitement behind us, I began fishing. All the while keeping an eye out for our friends return. I cast over and over and had multiple fish interested. I even had some biting my hook, but they were too small to actually be hooked.
Fishing The Pond
Another Angle Of The Pond
Waterfall Between The Second Lake And The Pond
Eventually we decided that we should probably move on and see if we could find a campsite near town for the night. We wandered down the last cliff and made our way to the trailhead.
Bonus Pic: We Found A Boulder Hanging Out Over The Last Waterfall
At the end of the hike I was quite impressed with myself and my ability to jump along the boulders and my slowly growing ability to deal with heights. I was also glad to see that there were, in fact, fish in the lakes. Even if I didn’t have the skills to catch them.
We then headed to town to look for a campsite. Unfortunately every site was booked and the best we were offered was just a spot in an open field. I suggested we just do the 4 hour drive home and sleep in our own bed. Erin said she wanted to camp another night and that we should just go to a campsite near Hinton. So we compromised and went to a campsite near Hinton. It was nice, but expensive and there were a lot of kids running around making noise right beside our campsite. It was nice to have s’mores though, and after a back country hike sleeping on an air mattress, and using a real toilet is a real step up.
AT $45 a night they’ve got some sense of humor… or gall.
The next day Erin and I drove home, had showers, picked up her brother and drove north to meet her parents at Calling Lake. We spent the weekend relaxing on the beach and it was great.
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Bear Season
This past bear season, was likely my last hunting season for a good long while. As many of you know, Erin and I are engaged and plan on taking a trip after our wedding. This means that I will be busy, then gone, during the fall deer season and may not be back in time for the following spring bear season, there’s even a chance that I will still be gone, or just be busy readjusting, when the next fall season shows up. That means it could be up to two years before I get another chance to go hunting. But I guess that’s the way life goes when you have wanderlust.
I came into this bear season organized and ambitious. Weeks before the season opened I began cleaning out the expired food in my cupboard, fridge, and freezer, I also got several friends to do the same. I then went out to my moms farm and set up my bait. It was a basic blue metal barrel wired to a tree with some holes cut in it just big enough for a bear paw to fit in. I filled it up with old popcorn, pasta, and some ground beef that had overstayed its welcome in the freezer. I was sure to take all the wrappers off of all the food. I then built a basic ground blind about 20 yards away by nailing some old grainery wood to some trees.
20 Yards From the Blind to the Bait
My goal was simple, I wanted to shoot a bear with my recurve bow. I was well practiced out to 25 yards and felt more than confident in my abilities at 20. That said, whenever I went out to the bait I would bring a rifle with me and lean it up beside me, in case things did exactly work out for me. Needless to say my mother and my fiancee had some concerns… I guess some people have no sense of adventure these days.
The first few weeks were very uneventful, for the most part winter was still strong so bears were still in hibernation. As the weather warmed up I began to take it more seriously. Almost every weekend I would drive out to my mothers house to sit at the bear bait, I would also practice with my bow everyday I was there. I wanted to be sure I could make full use of any opportunity luck and mother nature gave me. I also made a point of being more prepared to process and save the meat from any bear I was able to shoot. To my everlasting shame; I was ill prepared the first time I shot a bear and was only able to save and eat a very small portion of it. I do take comfort in knowing it taught me a valuable lesson in being prepared, but that wastefulness still bothers me, and likely always will.
I found that changing up the target improved my accuracy
Finally the winter broke and the snow melted. There were reports of bear sightings everywhere and there was still just over a month left in the season. That gave me six weekends to get my bear, the race was on. The first of the weekends I mostly saw mosquitoes, lots and lots of them, and a mule deer that ran right passed me and the bait station as though it was being chased.
The following week, a friend of mine from work asked if I wanted all the old expired food out of his freezer, I assumed he knew I wanted bear bait… I gladly accepted the offer and said I would be by in a few days, assuming he would leave a small bag of food in the freezer for a day or two. I was mistaken, he had left a big garbage bag on the floor of his attached garage. His, then 28 weeks pregnant, wife came home to a house that smelt like old thawing meat, he got an angry text and I went straight to his house after work and picked it up. We were all aware of how close he and I had come to facing the wrath of an angry pregnant woman, far more dangerous than any bear if you ask me. The meat then sat in my detached garage for two weeks making a rather impressive stench, I imagine every dog in the neighborhood was on hi-alert that week. The following weekend I wasn’t able to go out, being an adult is terrible, far too much responsibility.
Finally a weekend arrived and I was out at the farm. I tossed the, now slightly rotten, food from my friend into the bait barrel. Its strange how often it comes in handy that I have a strong stomach for smells. The barrel now filled and emitting scent, I had a seat in the blind and waited, the first day nothing came. The second day, a coyote ran up to the bait and then changed his mind at the last second, I think he maybe spotted me shifting in my seat as he was running up. This bait was beginning to look hopeless, did I set it up wrong? was I in the wrong area?
The following weekend Erin came out with me to visit my mom and sister and do some bike riding as both my mom and sister had recently bought new bikes. Erin, not being a hunter, made it very clear that she didn’t want to sit in a mosquito infested swamp and wait for me to shoot a bear (my words not her’s)….. women right? Given how slow the season had been going so far, I felt like a weekend doing something else might be just what I needed. We arrived at the farm Saturday morning and we went to top up the bait quick, I had a little bread bag filled with some old bread, leftovers from a restaurant we went to, and some other odds and ends. We arrived at the bait to find that something had tore the bottom off of the barrel and pretty well licked it clean, there was nothing left in or around it. I folded the bottom of the barrel closed and threw my pint of food in. I knew this was trouble, if a bait goes empty bears will stop coming to it.
Torn open and emptied
I put the half a bread bag worth of food into the barrel knowing it wouldn’t last til the following weekend.
A little bit is better than nothing I guess
I was upset to find that the trail camera hadn’t taken a single photo throughout the entire incident. So I have no proof of what came there or when, for all I know it could have been Sasquatch. The rest of the weekend was spend mountain biking along the old cow trails through the woods. It was exciting and probably even more dangerous than bear hunting, Erin and I had a blast.
The second last weekend came, and I headed out of the city as fast as I could, on Friday, and stopped at a farm store on the way out. I picked up two bags of oats mixed with molasses, I figured that would be nearly irresistible to a bear… I was tempted to eat some myself on the drive. I filled the bait, it had been emptied again, but there was so little food in it that it could have been birds or coyotes scavenging. I sat for two days and didn’t see anything. The next weekend I went out again, it was the final weekend and I spend most of both Saturday and Sunday sitting in that blind waiting. Again, nothing showed up, and all too soon bear season was over and I had little to show for it.
No bear this season, to me, doesn’t mean a failed season. I learned a few things and came up with a few good ideas to try again next time. In hind sight, when I saw that the bait was empty I should have ran to the farm store that day and gotten something to put in. I also should have set the trail camera up better: fresh batteries and lower to the ground for better detection. I learned that rancid meat makes way better bait than fresh meat, of course that one was kind of obvious.. Like any addicted hunter, I’ll keep trying until I succeed… then I’ll try and do it again.
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Fishing in The Rain
Erin and I recently spent the weekend at her grandfathers house visiting and telling stories. Somewhere in the back and forth, he told me an old fishing story that spurred my memory. Here’s an old tale from when I was fresh out of high-school.
One spring, near the beginning of my university career, I decided to go on a fishing trip with a friend from work named Trevor. It would actually be one of the first dedicated fishing trips of my adult life. The plan was to take my dad’s suburban, my brothers inflatable boat, a 9.5 hp motor, and a bunch of miscellaneous camping gear, most of which was borrowed. We loaded a borrowed cooler with food that was mostly prepped by Trevor’s mom.
Friday evening, we went north to my dad’s house outside of Athabasca, grabbed the boat, and decided on a lake. We debated a lake called Calling Lake, which is well known for its walleye, but in the end we decided on Rock Island Lake. It was closer and smaller, if I recall. On Saturday morning, we pulled up to the lake, made camp, assembled the boat, and quickly went out fishing. We were camped on the west side of the lake and decided to fish the south shore.
As soon as we got a line in the water, it started to rain. My goodness, did it rain. We were standing and fishing in a 10 foot rubber pontoon boat in the pouring rain with about 6 inches of water sloshing in the bottom. We tried casting and trolling without so much as a bite. At one point, one of us looked at the other and expressed “Fuck it! Fishin’!” We both shrugged our shoulders and threw another cast. We kept fishing, and CRACK! A flash of lightning, again we looked and each other and chuckled out our new catch phrase. Finally, the rain died down a bit and our fishing desperation came to a halt when the hunger took hold.
We pulled in to the camp site where it didn’t seem to be raining as hard anymore and changed into some dry clothes. We made some lunch and while cooking I looked out at the lake and noticed that the south side, where we had been fishing, was black skies and pouring rain, while the north side was clear sky and sunshine.
We decided to try the north side, with the train of thought that it couldn’t possibly be worse than the south, at the very least it would be less soggy. We headed along the shore line and found a nice patch of weeds and started casting. Within our first 10 casts we had caught our legal limit of pike and walleye. It was an absolute fishing frenzy. By the end of the afternoon we had both filled our quota for fish, and caught a few more that were even bigger than the ones we had previously decided to keep. Unfortunately we didn’t have a live well so we were stuck with the first fish we decided to keep. Oh well, there are worse things in life than too many fish.
We headed into camp and Trevor expertly filleted the fish. Filleting fish is one of those skills that I truly wish I had, but just don’t seem to be able to remember, or pull off effectively. I guess I’ll keep practicing. We fried up the fish in a nice crispy batter, the best way to cook a fish if you ask me. We also fried up some cubed potatoes and cooked a can of beans. Aside from a some fish, the can of beans was my only contribution to the meal. It may have been the fresh fish, the fresh air, or the lingering effects of the morning’s hypothermia, but that meal is, to this day, one of the best I’ve ever eaten.
Good Thing It Wasn’t a Fashion Show
We had a bit of a fire and then turned in for the night. That evening it got windy, rainy and cold. Very cold it seemed, and neither one of us had a sleeping bag worth a plug nickel. When we heard a break in the rain, we made a run for the suburban. We ran the engine and made good use of the heater for an hour or two while playing cards, then shut off the engine and listened to the radio for a bit. We slept the rest of the night in the suburban and went out fishing in the morning. We caught fish, but not like the previous afternoon, and to my memory, we didn’t bother keeping any.
Finally we decided we best be getting home. We packed up our camp and tore apart the boat. We loaded everything into the SUV. I jumped in and turned the key, only to hear that ever so disappointing click. That click that tells you that your battery is dead. That click that tells you “you aren’t going anywhere”. I grabbed my nearly dead cell phone and checked my signal – none. I looked around the campground and noticed that almost everyone else was gone. It was looking like we were walking to the highway to calling for help. We were two steps out of the campsite when an older gent with a fifth-wheel camper stopped and asked if we were in trouble. The looks on our faces may have tipped him off. I explained the situation and politely asked if he could give us a boost with is truck. He chuckled and said “no” then got out of his truck, dug through his tool box and grabbed one of those booster boxes… I was glad he was willing to help us, I just wish he didn’t have a sense of humour about it. We hooked it to the battery, fired up the truck, and headed back to civilization to begin unloading our gear.
Trevor and I don’t work together anymore and we don’t see each other much, but every time we do, one of us, without fail, chuckles and says “Fuck it! Fishin’!” I guess some jokes just stand the test of time.
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The Hawk Kept Flying
One thing that outdoorsmen will always do, is be late getting home. No matter how long they claim they will be gone, or how long they intend to be gone, they will always be later than stated. Its not our fault really, time just changes when you’re outside, especially if you’re like me and get distracted easily.
I remember a few years ago I watched a film called “The Missing“. Its a great film and it has a quote in it that I’ve always felt struck a chord with me:
- Samuel: [long pause] There’s a Apache story about a man that woke up one morning and saw a hawk on the wind. Walked outside and never returned. After he died, he met his wife in the spirit world. She asked him why he never came home, he said “Well, the hawk kept flying.”
[pause]
- Samuel: There’s always the next something, Maggie. And that will take a man away.
(from WikiQuote)
Now back to where I was going with this.. Oh right, getting distracted, I guess that happens even in my writing. Anyway, I set up my bear bait just before the season opened, when it was still nice and cold outside. Not surprisingly, nothing showed up on the trail cameras over the next few weeks.
A while later, the first weekend of the season actually, I decided to go have a sit in my little handmade blind. I figured nothing would show up, there were still no pictures on the trail cameras and nothing missing from the bait barrel. I figured it would be nice to just sit and relax for an hour or so and maybe see if I could spot anything that needed adjusting, maybe some branches trimmed to give me a shooting lane, things like that. A few minutes in, I realized that my blind was in short supply of something to sit on and crouching just wasn’t pleasant. Not worrying about blowing my cover, I stood up and started to walk around the area looking for a good log I could commandeer and use as a seat. Most of the ones I found were too rotten to support my body mass. Suddenly, in front of me on the trail, there was a great big, terrifying…. pile of moose poo. Then it hit me! A thought, not the moose poo, it was stationary. Where there’s moose poo, there’s moose, where there’s moose, there’s antler sheds. So I abandoned my log hunt for a shed hunt. I didn’t find much, I never seem to do well while searching for sheds it seems.
After some walking around I came to a clearing at the edge of a pond and glanced up across it and saw two beavers sun bathing on top of their lodge. I can’t help but feel the expression “busy as a beaver” might be misleading, or are these beavers the exception? Either way, I decided to try and get some pictures of these lazy beavers. I walked up to the waters edge and snapped a few pictures with my phone, but they just looked so far away. So, I came up with a plan, I walked back to the quad and drove it around to the far side of the pond where I could get a closer look at the beavers. I walked slowly and silently toward them, I froze like a statue every time one of them turned to look at me. Finally I was about five yards from the water and about ten yards from the lodge and they spotted me. They dove into the icy water, I crouched there silently for what felt like minutes, finally they resurfaced through the thin layer of ice. The cracking ice made that amazing sound, a mix of lazer beams and rubbing polystyrene together. They both looked right at me, I refused to move a muscle. Slowly they both swam back to their home, climbed on top of it, and started licking and shaking the water from their fur.
I slipped ever closer, this time without notice. The toes of my hunting boots were in the water, this was as close as I could get without swimming and I didn’t feel like wrecking my hair. I had my rifle with me, like I always do in the bush, I carefully maneuvered it onto a patch of grass where it would stay dry. I then dug my phone out of my pocket and snapped some more pictures. Eventually I was noticed and the beavers dove back into the water, this time seemed to have a little more panic. I decided that was enough stress for two animals trying to enjoy the sun, I grabbed my rifle and snuck back to the quad, all the while trying not to arouse anymore suspicion.
As I headed home I looked at my watch, I had been gone for almost three hours. That’s triple what I had intended, but well… the hawk kept flying… and I didn’t even get a decent picture… Still a better use of time than watching TV, if you ask me.
I have got to start carrying a real camera
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