Tom Thomson for #unplugd11

Why seniors should wear snowboard clothes

I finally found winter jacket that I like at Algonquin Outfitters, and in addition to fitting properly and looking good it has a wide range of special features. Yes, I ended up buying what appears to be a snowboarding coat, even though I don't snowboard and don't even downhill ski. 
But that got me thinking. Of course I am not a senior citizen, but in ten or fifteen years I might want a coat like this for qualities other than fit or appearance. I think many seniors might appreciate the following attributes.... 
1. There are built in hand warmers, in case of arthritis, a sign of advancing age. 
2. It has huge zipper pulls, same symptom. 
3. Fake snaps with Velcro underneath, same symptom. 
4. Still suffering from hot flashes? Open the pit zips. 
5. Forgetful? The hood is attached. 
6. Amazingly, there is a pocket on the left sleeve containing a cloth to clean your glasses. 
And best of all, if you fall down or get lost, it has a Recco wire that responds to a transmitter. Those snowboard apparel companies are sitting on a gold mine and they don't even know it, I bet!

NL Leads The Way

Gros Morne and Baie Verte Peninsula

Baie Verte Trip

Monday July 25 2011 to Thursday July 28, 2011

Monday

To Gros Morne park, Berry Hill campground

Sunny, 23

Tuesday

To Gros Morne mountain

Start climb at 750, finish 1130 and 415

To Oceanview Motel

Sunny 10, 25.5

Wednesday

To Norris Point, breakfast Pitmans

To Kings Point, Rattling Brook Falls trail

Lunch at Kings Point

To Springdale shopping

To Burlington and Smiths Cove, no camping

To La Scie Island Cove camping, fantastic spot

Sunny 10, 24

730-830 pm 4 whales spouting

Thursday

To Baie Verte, Fleur de Lys, Seal Cove

Fleur de Lys 4 icebergs in bay, 1 in harbor 

To Port aux Basques, Rose Blanche

Sunny, 11, 25

54 blooms, 1 lily

Nasty deer ate 4 hostas

Grin and bear it

........I wrote this a few years ago for Muskoka Magazine...
For years we celebrated each rare Black Bear sighting. That muscular figure, loping confidently across a quiet gravel road. The lush black fur of a mother and cub moving in and out of the shadows at the far edge of a green field.
Last year that all changed. We were living in a state of siege, on the alert night and day for the enemy. Probably the bears agreed. After all, we had unwittingly moved into their territory, the ancestral bear grounds of Sprucedale. Or whatever they call it amongst themselves.
During spring, 2005, my husband Frank and I completed building our new home, situated on 100 acres just outside Sprucedale. The property looked fantastic. All during the previous year, Frank had planted grass and clover in the clearing. By summer, a real scorcher by anyone’s standards, the ground was parched and our grass was suffering. But rising in triumph above it were lush areas of verdant clover, covering about a third of our one-acre clearing. We had lots and lots of clover. And the word got out around.
By mid-July they had arrived. Bears, bears and more bears. Not passing through like our beloved bears of the past. No, these bears had moved in. Well, OK, we had moved in. And planted an ursine salad bar. The first time one stopped by, we ran for the camera. My gosh, would you look at that. He’s eating the clover. That one was a Big one.
Next came two others, Small and Medium, who arrived together. Bears would often turn up right around suppertime, although a Medium Large once came at sundown, lay down and grazed from a recumbent position until morning. Every so often he would lick his paws like a cat.
When we looked up Black Bears on the Ministry of Natural Resources (MNR) web site, this didn’t seem extreme. It said that some bears actively feed for 20 hours a day, ingesting as much as 20,000 calories. And while they prefer the berry crops of late summer, they obviously felt that our clover could tide them over nicely.
During this period of intense cohabitation, we were able to test many so-called bear deterrents. So, there’s Yogi chowing down 15 feet from the dining room. First we had the Fox whistle test. I leaned into the window screen and blasted away with all my might. It hurt my ears. The bear didn’t even look up. Next we beckoned my dog, Stella, an aging, semi-fierce husky, who used her famous bark/scream. The bear twitched an ear and went back to the clover.
Many people have commented to us on the efficacy of dogs of any size in addressing bear problems. My Chihuahua treed a bear. My terrier came back with a mouthful of black fur. If the bear even smells the dog it will go away. Uh huh.
At night, we often tied the dog out, her summer house tucked under the edge of the back deck. I figured that with a noisy canine right there in the yard, that would be it for the bears. Right. One night I looked out from the upper hall window. There was Stella in full voice. Twenty feet away was a Big Bear having a munch. Not only that, but the porker was filling his face in the precise location preferred as a latrine by my fearless guard. So much for conventional bear wisdom.
The only thing that ever really did the trick was when Frank went to a window with a good-sized, hardcover library book, opened it to the middle and snapped it shut. Bye bye, Bruno. And thank you Ian Rankin. Well, I guess that begs the question. No, we don’t own a gun. And I have to give the bears credit for helping us put off the gun decision. They did not wreak destruction on our nice, new house, and they did not bother the dog. The very first Big one went around to the back door and casually tipped over a large barrel planter. We later picked it up. That was that.
Some nights, the dog worked herself into an absolute frenzy of barking, and we imagined numerous bears circling the clearing trying to make their way to the Elysian Fields. But, later that fall, a friend who is in the wood business came with his young son to clear some more trees for us. We met up for a chat mid-morning and he asked if we knew we had a moose hole. Well, that was an easy one. He explained that the male moose, to attract the girl of his dreams, paws away at the ground to create an ever-widening mud-hole, a process that he facilitates by urinating all over it. I flashed back to those nights of relentless guarding. What if it hadn’t been squads of bears? What if, all along, it had been Bullwinkle peeing and tap-dancing in the moonlight?
So how many bears visited us last summer? We really have no way of knowing, as we couldn’t identify individuals, just general sizes. An MNR map showing bear population density indicates that our part of Ontario has 40 to 60 bears for every 100 square kilometers of land. Thank goodness they didn’t all come by for a meal!

The Good, the Bad and the Really Bad, or, Follow the Rules, Stupid

Went for my first kayak ride of the season on Saturday with mixed results. I usually choose creeks or rivers for my paddling so decided to try out Bear Creek. This seems to run from Bear Lake to join up with the Seguin River. The day previous we had walked along three quarters of the route via the Seguin Trail and it was very beautiful. The creek was wide enough to paddle due to spring runoff, no people or vehicles, hundreds of birds, very peaceful.
The Good
So early the next morning we left my car at the takeout place in a disused driveway on Highway 518, and then I started out from Bear Lake to paddle downstream for an hour or so.
It was a great sunrise, clear and cool, lots of ducks, geese, blackbirds and robins, and a fish jumped out and flung itself back in the water right in front of me. The current was moving fast so I was doing almost as much steering through the winding wetland watercourse as actual paddling. Many submerged beaver dams created mini-rapids and waterfalls. It was a new experience for me, and really fun.
The section I was most worried about went great. An eight-foot high culvert, followed by a sharp right and then a narrow section of rapids. Just like The Flume ride at an amusement parks! A couple of bounces off rocks but nothing too scary.
The sun eventually came up and it got nice and warm, a wonderful day for an outing.
The Bad
Within the first ten minutes I came to the spot where someone had built a footbridge over the navigable part of the creek and there was no headroom; the kayak itself just barely fit. I was so proud of myself. I got out on a bank, fed the boat under while holding onto a long rope so it wouldn’t get swept away, caught the rope on the far side and fed the rest of the line through. Got the boat next to the bank, and got in. And then it tipped enough to take on water and sank. Yikes. Wet to the waist but boat is half submerged, out in the middle of a big swamp, and car is at least five clicks away. Hmmm. Spent half an hour hauling boat out onto grassy knoll to balance and tip it over. It now weighs about 100 not 40 pounds. Managed to get back in without an encore spill.
Kept going. I wanted to go through that culvert anyway.
Shortly after the culvert I started to hear a dull roaring noise, and told myself it was the highway. For a while. However, there is very little traffic on this road. As well, I knew in my heart that I was now in the last quarter of the route – the part that we had not checked out as per rules – and that it had to be a waterfall. It was.
But I remembered about lining a boat, got over in a little cove and climbed out. Took about 20 minutes to clamber around on the bank leading the kayak over the drop and untangling the rope from various pines and tag alders. Wedged the boat between two grassy knolls and got securely in. Backed up and continued through a nice sunny section. Actually this was almost Good, not Bad.
The Really Bad
More ominous dull roaring. I was amazed that this little creek had turned into such a monster. The day before, it was all narrow, innocent and swampy. Today it was a beast, widening out and rushing through a rocky gorge. I was too tired to get out and decided to run over an 18 inch dam. Not the best logic there, but no disaster. However, the rapids seemed to continue forever, deeper water, high rock walls. Once the kayak spun sideways and then shot backwards down the creek I knew it was time to give up.
As the current tossed the kayak against one bank, I grabbed some alders and beached it, hauling myself out gratefully if not gracefully.
More Good
Climbed the bank and felt like doing a little dance when I saw the Seguin Trail, hot and sandy in the sun not more than 30 feet away. But instead I tore into the egg sandwich I had brought. Delighted that my little MEC Black Diamond pack that was advertised as waterproof… was waterproof. Phone and camera and food all doing great. Mind you there was no signal so I couldn’t check in with Frank.
But the trail was excellent. Whoa. Went back to leave water bottle beside trail to mark the place to go back and retrieve boat. Then, two kilometers to the highway and then one more to the car seemed like a dream come true – warm and breezy in my natural habitat, dry land.
Twenty minutes later I pulled up the driveway and got a big welcome from Rocco. Went inside and took the phone into the hot shower with me. Frank answered, “Hello, Bear Lake Search and Rescue.”
It wasn’t quite a joke, seeing as I had to get him to take his truck on the trail, past the sign saying $500 fine for driving vehicles in there, to haul my kayak up the steep bank and deliver it back to our yard.
But seriously I was very grateful for this help. And even more thankful to have made it through the whole adventure safely. When they say check out the whole route before going canoeing or kayaking? It doesn’t mean three quarters of it. Really.

113 Main - Rose Blanche Views

Our house at 113 Main Street in Rose Blanche, NL is for sale. We are asking $29,900, which of course is a bit negotiable. If you would like to read a bit more about the house and see a few photos, please look down the list of categories to the right. IN ORDER TO SEE THE ORIGINAL INFO AND PHOTOS, look down the "Labels" list on the right. Click on Rose Blanche and just keep scrolling down until you see the post called "113 Main for Sale $29,900"

Walking right in town is a great workout for body and eyes: hilly, with some of the most beautiful Maritime views anywhere!

113 Main - Walking to Harbour Le Cou

Our house at 113 Main Street in Rose Blanche, NL is for sale. We are asking $29,900, which of course is a bit negotiable. If you would like to read a bit more about the house and see a few photos, please look down the list of categories to the right. If you click on Rose Blanche, you will find this information, and several posts with photos. The walk from our house over the trail to Harbour Le Cou should be on a list of Most Beautiful Walks in Canada (or the world!) Really!

113 Main - Local Walks

There are some spectacular walks right in and around Rose Blanche. The Old Harbour Le Cou Road takes you overland to the next village. The Wreckhouse Trail is part of the Trans Canada Trail and is just north of Port Aux Basques. The Waterfall Trail is just outside Rose Blanche. The Harvey Trail is in the nearby village of Isle Aux Morts. Here are just a few photos...

Food Chain

Intellectually I know that all the wild animals we catch glimpses of have to eat. We love to see that elusive flash of red fox fur at the edge of the clearing, or the lean, lumbering black figure of the bear passing through the yard. But I’ve now decided that I don’t really need the details of their diet. Sometimes, to use a cliché, it’s just too much information.
Last month I was driving home the back way, through Muskoka to Ilfracombe and up Stisted Road. Going fairly slowly I got a clear look at a healthy, large fox standing his ground at the side of the road, lunch hanging out of his mouth. Clenched firmly between his jaws was a bloody newborn fawn. It hung limply down each side of the fox; its fur was delicately spotted, its limbs short and bony, and its head still elongated, an unfamiliar sort of prehistoric profile, with the bones of its skull close together and its snout raised and lengthened. Like a human baby, its head was large in proportion to the rest of its frame. That fox didn’t move a muscle until I’d passed and then I saw it move back out onto the shoulder of the road, trotting purposefully south.
Yesterday I found out what the local bears have been eating. Walking on the highway as I do every morning I spotted a large bear dropping. It was sort of disgusting, very big and with a grey liquid sheen to it. Then as I was approaching I saw that Barney, as we have called our local black bear, had had to squat twice to finish his business. In the second, smaller mound there were two perfectly formed, unchewed and undigested, bunny ears. They were still attached to each other with a bit of skin and skull.
I’m happy to know the food chain exists and that all the animals are doing well this year. I just don’t feel the need to view the individual links. What can I say? Yuck.

Spring

It’s spring nice and early here near Sprucedale. All the migrants seem to have arrived back at once, and I hope the weather is kind to them for the next few weeks. On Friday March 27 I was out walking Rocco about 7 a.m. and as we reached the end of the driveway in the gloom and fog, I heard the unmistakeable reedy trills of a flock of blackbirds across the road in the swamp. From the shoulder of the road I tried to see them perched in the alders, but no luck. Then the next morning on the way back to the house, a bunch of Canada geese in pairs and trios were trying to get organized for the day, honking and flying back and forth overhead. I later saw a heron and a duck in flight, and best of all, on our evening walk we saw a flock of robins hanging out where the blackbirds had been the day before, all on the alert and making warning chirps as they zoomed from tree to tree. Everybody back before April. Wow.

The Dial-up Marten

On a $9.99 a month dial-up Internet connection you spend a lot of time waiting for sites, designed for a high-speed world, to load. Sometimes I read a magazine or a book, and quite often I swivel my chair in its tiny alcove to look out a large window at the deck, yard, pond and the bush beyond. Last week, during March Break, I was waiting and gazing and spotted a skinny, sleek brown animal skittering down the hill on top of the late winter snow. He or she found the edge of the pond that stays open all winter due to runoff and before I could blink he’d popped into the water and under the ice. I waited for him to emerge and out of the corner of my eye saw that he’d hopped out at the inlet to the pond, also a small opening in the ice. Below my line of vision he tracked along the shore of the pond while I got the binoculars.
Now I could see that he was sitting up on the bank under a tall, bare yellow birch, pretty much where I leave my towel and flip-flops when I go for a swim in the summer. He was worrying away at something but had his back to me so I couldn’t observe any details about his activity. After five minutes, he took off down to the outlet end of the pond. Back into the water. I shivered. Too much swimming, marten, it’s still winter out there.
A moment later out he came and ran across the frozen pond towards the hill and the bush. In his mouth, practically dragging on the ground, was the largest frog I have ever seen. I then figured he’d had his own frog for a midmorning snack and was taking the rest of the bounty home to the family. I guess the pairing of dial-up, which we’re stuck with due to a remote location, and the views available at that location, do make a bit of sense. I hear we might get high speed out here soon, so now I have two reasons to procrastinate over whether to subscribe. One, I’m too cheap. Two, what about the marten?