I have not had the head space to write here lately – so busy doing, traveling, moving around in the world and sorting things out. And then there’s the fact that I can’t write about a lot of the things I’ve been dealing with at work and in my union life – discreet I must be when it comes to work and the private lives of the people I represent.
Last week we were at the cabin in the interior for a week of amazing fall weather, hiking, hunting, and photography. For our efforts, we came home with 52 pounds of venison, and I also made my way up to Keremeos to load up on winter squash and apples, as well as a case of wine and cider. On our way home, we stopped through Victoria for a dinner with friends, and I was gifted 5 pounds of quince as well to turn into jelly. The quince, apples, and squash are still in the cupboard waiting to be processed – the cutting, grinding, and wrapping of the deer took many hours, and I haven’t quite got my food prep mojo back.
It was an interesting vacation together, as Brian was out all the days hunting, which left me on my own but somehow *not* since we ate our meals and spent the evenings together (plus, he made me coffee and a fire every morning). Although he kept apologizing for being out in the bush so much, I have to admit that I found it freeing to be on my own – and for the first time in years I did some solo hiking in the area.
Always aware of the potential for bears and the cougars – I spent my days poking around old logging roads, uncovering animal trails, and exploring the hills above our cabin – and on one occasion went down to Hedley to hike up the creek (first), and then up a mountain into an old mine camp.*
On one of my trips I recorded 30 minutes of audio which I have yet to transcribe – a kind of hiking essay about wildness, the fallacy of being able to escape civilization or its collapse, and the nature of self-rescue. I’m curious now how that will relay once edited. The recording is an interesting artifact in itself though – as it captures the sound of my feet on the trail, and my breath as I ponder and plod along Osprey Lake.
Brian and I noted how much more pleasurable it is at the cabin in the autumn – particularly this year. We first went to the cabin in July and because it had been a late/wet spring – it was incredibly buggy. Then it warmed up when we were there and the whole province caught fire at once and we got smoked out. In the fall, there are neither bugs nor fires. And the days can still be warm enough for swimming – the day that Brian got the deer it was in the mid-twenties.
I realize now that when Brian and I first met, I was used to taking holidays in September – when the weather is great for hiking and camping, but all the families had gone home. Of course, with a kid in school, I had to shift to a more routine summer holiday schedule – but we’ve both realized that we now have the capacity to shift our holidays fall-ward again since M. has been out of the house for 2 years (!) – and so we probably will angle to spend more time at the cabin in September/October in the future.
I have a boatload of photos from our trip, some of which I will post here – as well as some percolating ideas for posts. We’ll see where that goes. It just seemed time for an update here, and I’m hoping that the next few months will bring a quieter time – with more space for writing. This weekend I am off to Anacortes where I will pick up a new loom as well – so that’s a whole post just waiting to happen!
*When I was younger and single – I hiked alone without letting anyone know where I was going. These days I’m not so stupid. Between radios that we can use anywhere in the area of our cabin (they have amazing range) and a check-in system whereby I message Brian to let him know where I am parked and the direction I am hiking – there was not any time that it was not abundantly clear where I would be.