Not only am I enchanting company, I am enchanted. Yes, I am magical. Not in the good way though. It is that reverse magic. The kind that does the opposite of what you want.
On Monday, it was raining. Super. Perfect. I can start field testing my new Mountain Warehouse jacket. So, the first klik-and-a-half goes well. A steady rain, so I can see how this puppy holds up. Then, it lets up. It is still raining, but less so. It was supposed to come down in buckets all day.
No worries. It was supposed to rain Tuesday too. Nope. I wanted to keep testing the jacket with various under layers. Okay. No problem. It was supposed to rain today. Thunderstorms even. Well, not when I went hiking. I take care a bunch of other stuff, hoping for rain. Nyet. Hike anyway, as that is what I do.
Then I go to cut the grass. Within a few minutes, some really dark clouds roll in. Not raining yet, so I keep going. I get the front done, but when I tackle the back, the rain starts. It is light but steady. Okay, I keep going. Then it is whizzing down. The mower clogs with grass. Alright, I am done. The same thing happened last Thursday. I cut the grass in a downpour and emptied out the deck every few minutes by hand. Not today. It was coming down in buckets.
I park the mower, and within fifteen minutes it begins to let up. Then it stops. Super. Perfect. The grass is too wet now to cut. Plus, I have other things to get done.
Tomorrow it is supposed to rain. I bet it will not when I hike, but will when I go to finish the grass in the back. I need to get rid of it. I need to move on my project of turning as much of the back garden I can in to vegetable beds, fruit and nut trees, and an overall edible garden of various herbs, plants, bushes, etc.
However, now that I want to seriously move on this, it will probably rain, if not snow and hail, all summer, except when I hike with my new jacket.
The kicker is, now that I know this. Hike with jacket: no rain; and cut grass: rain. I will not be able to manipulate it. The gods of weather will still burn me. I will try to take my jacket on a hike to have clear weather and the entire forest will flood. I will go to cut the grass so it will rain, so I do not have to do yard work and it will be clear and sunny.
Maybe I should just get a couple goats to eat the grass and put my jacket on one of them. Yeah. They would probably get themselves free and steal the keys to my truck and go for a joyride and end up crashing through a storefront.
I hate bizzaro world magic. blbbl
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
storytime - wild dogs, volcanoes, and hitchhiking
Some years ago, while I was still training in Shotokan Karate, the wife and I went on a trip with our dojo to Japan. The wife still trains by the way. Anyway, it was a Shotocup year. Our Sensei organised a trip to bring the Canadian contestants to the world championships in Tokyo and for members at large to attend as spectators and to tour Tokyo and the main island of Japan, Honshū, afterwards.
Our initial destination was a sports camp in Gotemba near Mount Fuji, so contestants could acclimate and train. Seeing as we would be near Mount Fuji, a real honest
to goodness volcano, I wanted to climb it. However, we were going to be in Japan in the latter part of September and the beginning of October. This meant the off-season for facilities around the volcano, but it also meant it would not be swarming with people. The other downside, was that we would miss the Sumō Wrestling season.
It took a few days, but we finally got our venture to the sacred mountain organised. Our Sensei arranged for a cab to pick us up and take us to Fuji-san. there were four of us. Me, the wife, and two others. When we got there we arranged for the cab to come back to pick up the main party at about he time they should get back to the end point.
When we got to a particular junction, I went up and the three of them went across and back down. The wife was very concerned about my heading to the top alone. I am a stubborn person and I was not going to let the off-season nor being on my own for the climb stop me. It was not like I needed special climbing gear to get there. It is basically a groomed trail that was a series of switchbacks to reduce the strain of the slope on ones efforts.
My gear for my solo climb? Nike ACG (all conditions gear) light hikers, wool socks, shorts-style swimtrunks over spandex shorts, a t-shirt, fleece top, a ball cap and a Helly-Hansen polyester toque, leather work gloves, and a large daypack filled with snacks and Pocari Sweat.
Off I went alone. Across and up, across and up. I ran in to several parties coming down. I did not see anyone going up though. Not ahead of me, nor behind me. What I have failed to mention up to this point, is our departure time to the mountain. You see, our Sensei is very popular. Everyone wanted to hangout with him, be near him, have his attention. This is very common in the Martial Arts world. Not that I did not enjoy my Sensei's company. I did and do. I also appreciate greatly the attention, teaching, and mentoring he has provided me over the years. Both in Karate and in life. However, I am not an attention seeker. Nor was anyone in our party going to the mountain.
So, getting him to have a few minutes to spare to make the call and relay instructions to the cab driver was not particularly easy. We departed for Mount Fuji at about midday. By the time we got there, most people were coming down and from what I understand, not many people would even attempt to go to the top at this time of year. So, we were behind the eight-ball for time. Where the rest of the party turned to descend was about as high as anyone would go at that time of day.
I ran in to a a father and son coming down near a spur on the slope and they were very surprised to learn that I intended to climb to the crater. They took a picture of me for me, as well as one with their own camera, and I wondered to myself if that would be the last record of me in the manner of Chris McCandless. I have pursued similarly ill prepared, improperly planned, and ambitious activities as he had; not just this one. I was the same age as him in fact. However, I survived my hubris, more than once, where unfortunately he did not.
Upwards I continued. I passed through various torii, but this is where it begins to get odd. They appeared very close and I was motoring to them and the closer I thought I was getting, the further away they would become. Until I was practically on top of them. I also found many normal things quite funny. I was chuckling quite a bit. I am not sure when I realised it, but at some point I understood my good humour and the ever shifting torii, had everything to do with the thinner atmosphere I was climbing in.
Mount Fuji reaches a height of 3,776 metres. "High Altitude" is 1,500-3,500 metres and "Very High Altitude" is 3,500-5,500 metres. So, I was in a high altitude range entering the bottom end of the very high altitude range. In retrospect, I may have been somewhat unwise to do this climb. In the off-season. Alone. Late in the day. I may have been suffering from "mild" altitude sickness or hypoxia at this point.
Nevertheless, I continued to climb. Now that I knew what was happening, everything was under control. Right? There were several tricky torii on my ascent. Then, suddenly, I was at the crater. I celebrated with a Pocari Sweat. I then decided to walk around the crater. As I was approaching the research station during my loop, it seemed to be darker than it should have been. It definitely was not a storm approaching. I checked my watch. I had plenty of time. Wait. what was that little bar icon at the bottom? Oh-oh. I had a dual-time Casio digital watch at the time. Apparently, I had inadvertently switched my watch to Ottawa time. All of Japan is 13 hours ahead of Ottawa. So, looking at the watch quickly, as I had been the whole time up til now, I thought it was an hour earlier than it really was.
Well, no time to go up to the research station, which from what I understand, would not even have been manned at that time of year anyway. Back to the groomed path and down. I also had to find where my turn off was to get to the track down to where I wanted and needed to come down at to be headed in the right direction for home and hopefully a cab.
Ha, ha, ha. By the time I got to the first switch back, it was dark. Luckily, I also packed a headlamp and a flashlight. Across and down, across and down. I kept crossing what appeared to be a wide swath cut out of the slope all the way down to where I needed to get. Not knowing what it actually was or where it actually went I kept to the switchbacks. I later found out that it either had to do with controlling landslides or an attempt to put in cable cars. Not sure, but I would most likely have wiped out taking it at that altitude.
I kept going, following little markers indicating the path I needed. Well, the little markers suddenly vanished. This would have been the altitude that most visitors would not have passed. So, I surmised that people yanked them out of the ground as souvenirs. A little advice. Never, ever, remove trail markers. Unless, of course, they are grossly incorrect and you can confirm it. Otherwise, you may cause people to get lost and possibly injured or even killed. Anyway I ironically, and rudely, thanked those tourists for screwing me, and probably others, over, so they could get their trophies of their visit.
On my way down I saw several military helicopters fly by and mildly wished they saw me and would offer a lift. No dice, of course. On I went, the valiant fool. I reached an altitude where I could clearly see the pavilions and artificial lighting. I also saw the swath reach almost directly there. By this point, the angle of the slope was quite mild. I abandoned the switchbacks and kicked it in to overdrive and went headlong right for civilisation. I am I pretty sure I actually saw some vehicles. Well, by the time I got right down in the pavilion, not one person, car, bus, cab, nothing.
The bathrooms were open. So, I went for a pee. I had not gone since we got in the cab to get there. Not too much came out. I washed up and headed out to the "road". One thing, I was surprised that the bathrooms smelled like your regular, everyday, North American campground bathrooms. Everything in Japan is usually clean, tidy, and looked after.
Out on the road, which was not so much more than a dirt track. Along I went. I knew and remembered which way to go. Was I ever hoping someone would drive by and give me a lift. Not along there. I was not alone though. Plenty of wild dogs running alongside me in the woods and crossing my path in front and in behind. Barking, scuffling amongst themselves. I was seriously concerned. On went the leathers, flashlight in one hand, a hearty stick in the other. They got as close as a couple/few feet. I never saw more than their eyes though. Not sure why they did not try anything or just even come out. Maybe I smelled too differently to them or moved too differently. I do not know.
What I do know? I know I had to hike out down this road somewhere around six to eight kilometres to get to the main road and my only company was a bunch of really freaky dogs that I am sure were trying to determine if I was worth eating or not. Stray, feral dogs are problematic in Asia. I saw this more so in Taiwan than in Japan, but it appears to be pretty universal after a quick search on the interweb. These guys dogged me the whole way I was on foot (pun intended).
Once I was on the main road I figured there would be more traffic and someone would pick me up. If not out of kindness, then out of amusement. How many Japanese people really have the opportunity to pick up a big, white guy in swimtrunks and a toque on the side of a rural highway? I mean, what story it would be.
Out on the "main" road the doggies subsided a bit, but I had to keep looking around. I had to ditch the the headlamp, flashlight, and stick, lest I look like some deranged highwayman. Oh look, someone is approaching. Thumb out, hopeful, happy expression. Bastard! No dice. Somebody else. Same thing. I do not know how many people passed me, but it was not looking good. It was fifteen to twenty kliks to the the sports camp.
I probably covered five k when I realised I was probably going to have to find a safe place for the night away from the dogs. You see, the camp closed its gates at 11:00 pm. I was running out of time fast. I had probably covered another five kilometres before one of the few vehicles to pass me in my direction stopped. I was so, so happy. And relieved. It was a young, friendly woman in a minivan type contraption. I did my best to explain where I was going. It was on this road, I knew that. So, it had to be on her way. There were not many places to turn off between where we were and the camp.
She intimated that her English was very minimal, but was fairly clear that she knew not of what I spoke. Okay, thank you... Crap. On I went. A few more vehicles whipped past me. Then, a few k down the road, it appeared a car that just passed me had stopped. I rounded the bend and ran up with a huge pie-eating grin and was about to say thanks for stopping. Well, it was an illusion. The vehicle braked for the bend, but it was another vehicle that was stopped. In fact, it was that young woman and she was on her phone. Well, I am pretty sure my expression changed to sadness and disappointment. I apologised and kept hoofing down the road, looking for a tree or something to climb for bedtime.
About five-ten minutes later, a van whips up beside me and stops. I look, it is her. I wondered if this was some weird game of chicken or screw around with the big nose, white devil? The window opens, and she says, in perfect, unaccented English: "Get in!"
Maaannn!! I was pretty ecstatic. I run around to the other side and get in. I apologise for my appearance and explain I had just climbed, Mount Fuji and have been walking back since then. She looks at me unimpressed and says: "You stink!" I was a bit surprised. I was wondering if this was a precursor to being kicked out of the vehicle and the bizarre game of chicken were to resume. Nope. She pulled in to the road and gunned it. Some awkward chit-chat. I see the gate to the camp and tell her this is my stop. Really? Yup. You're staying there? Yup. Okay.
She cuts over into the lane to the gate and stops. I get out and I as put my pack on my back and come around to say thanks, she peels out. Wow?! I guess I do stink. I had about five minutes to spare in the end before the gates were to be closed. If not for that ride, I would have had to have holed up somewhere or scaled the gate and risked who knows what kind of comedy of errors.
Anyway, safe and sound. I see two people walking from the gate. Not much to see out here. I then recognise who they are. One is the wife. I hustle over and nonchalantly ask what is going on. The wife is happy and relieved to see me. Apparently, she was starting to think that I either fell in to the crater or wiped out and knocked myself out on the slope. Nope. I do tell her the risk was greater from all the feral dogs on my way back. Mental note, do not tell the wife, even as a joke, that feral dogs were circling you in the middle of nowhere, where help would not be available. Never, ever, do that. Ever. Not even as a joke. Ever!
She tells me that they got back in good time from their excursion, but she has been worried the whole time. Sorry, but you know how stubborn I am. Yup, she does. No one had told Sensei that I had not gotten back yet. So, we head over to one of the cabins. Mine I think and there is Sensei with a bunch of Brazilian karate-ka who have just arrived and are staying with us at the camp until Shotocup. Sensei now learns that I went to the top and just got back. He laughs. He laughs at me a lot actually. I at times have been akin to a court jester to his elevated status. No worries. He tells the Brazilians what I did. They look at me in disbelief. Or maybe it was how I was dressed. Does not matter. They actually think I am shooting wind at them. Nope, I did. You did.? Yup. Here, drink this. What is it? Drink it. Okay.
Holy crap! Was that jet fuel? No; just a little something from home. I find out later it is some high-octane, dubiously legal, alcoholic substance from Brazil. Want another one. Um? Sure, but two sight blurring drinks is my limit. Apparently, three is my limit. I get hustled out of there before my spleen dissolves.
(Before I finish up here, I want to let people know, that I was misinformed and misled by several sources about climbing Mount Fuji before the trip. I learnt after returning to Canada that what I did was on the dangerous side. A Japanese friend informed the wife and I when we told her about our trip to Japan, that many people go missing and get injured on and around Mount Fuji, especially in the off-season. Some even die. Super. Also, those freaky, feral dogs are not to be trifled with. Again, one could get hurt or even killed by them. Double super. There you have it: research, research, research.)
Wash up. Wash up again. Hard sleep and more adventures for the rest of the trip. The big downside. I brought a pair of dress Doc Martens shoes and the Nike ACGs. That was it. For some reason, I brought the wrong Docs. I had this pair before my feet grew a whole size and forgot about that. The ACGs? They were saturated with volcanic dust. Every time I took my shoes off, my socks, and feet, were coated in black volcanic dust. This is Japan. Shoes must be removed most of the time indoors.
I did try to purchase another pair of shoes or boots, but when I did find my size, the price was outlandish. I could not justify paying what was being asked for the footwear. I pretty much had to wear the too small shoes for most rest of the trip so as to not offend anyone with my filthy, volcanic dust covered socks and feet. So much for Fuji-san the holy mountain, no one revered my feet. blbbl
Our initial destination was a sports camp in Gotemba near Mount Fuji, so contestants could acclimate and train. Seeing as we would be near Mount Fuji, a real honest
japanese grade school morning calisthenics
It took a few days, but we finally got our venture to the sacred mountain organised. Our Sensei arranged for a cab to pick us up and take us to Fuji-san. there were four of us. Me, the wife, and two others. When we got there we arranged for the cab to come back to pick up the main party at about he time they should get back to the end point.
fuji-san as seen from the camp
When we got to a particular junction, I went up and the three of them went across and back down. The wife was very concerned about my heading to the top alone. I am a stubborn person and I was not going to let the off-season nor being on my own for the climb stop me. It was not like I needed special climbing gear to get there. It is basically a groomed trail that was a series of switchbacks to reduce the strain of the slope on ones efforts.
side trail to a spur
My gear for my solo climb? Nike ACG (all conditions gear) light hikers, wool socks, shorts-style swimtrunks over spandex shorts, a t-shirt, fleece top, a ball cap and a Helly-Hansen polyester toque, leather work gloves, and a large daypack filled with snacks and Pocari Sweat.
Off I went alone. Across and up, across and up. I ran in to several parties coming down. I did not see anyone going up though. Not ahead of me, nor behind me. What I have failed to mention up to this point, is our departure time to the mountain. You see, our Sensei is very popular. Everyone wanted to hangout with him, be near him, have his attention. This is very common in the Martial Arts world. Not that I did not enjoy my Sensei's company. I did and do. I also appreciate greatly the attention, teaching, and mentoring he has provided me over the years. Both in Karate and in life. However, I am not an attention seeker. Nor was anyone in our party going to the mountain.
So, getting him to have a few minutes to spare to make the call and relay instructions to the cab driver was not particularly easy. We departed for Mount Fuji at about midday. By the time we got there, most people were coming down and from what I understand, not many people would even attempt to go to the top at this time of year. So, we were behind the eight-ball for time. Where the rest of the party turned to descend was about as high as anyone would go at that time of day.
I ran in to a a father and son coming down near a spur on the slope and they were very surprised to learn that I intended to climb to the crater. They took a picture of me for me, as well as one with their own camera, and I wondered to myself if that would be the last record of me in the manner of Chris McCandless. I have pursued similarly ill prepared, improperly planned, and ambitious activities as he had; not just this one. I was the same age as him in fact. However, I survived my hubris, more than once, where unfortunately he did not.
the sacred mountain casting a shadow
Upwards I continued. I passed through various torii, but this is where it begins to get odd. They appeared very close and I was motoring to them and the closer I thought I was getting, the further away they would become. Until I was practically on top of them. I also found many normal things quite funny. I was chuckling quite a bit. I am not sure when I realised it, but at some point I understood my good humour and the ever shifting torii, had everything to do with the thinner atmosphere I was climbing in.
the final torii, i think
Mount Fuji reaches a height of 3,776 metres. "High Altitude" is 1,500-3,500 metres and "Very High Altitude" is 3,500-5,500 metres. So, I was in a high altitude range entering the bottom end of the very high altitude range. In retrospect, I may have been somewhat unwise to do this climb. In the off-season. Alone. Late in the day. I may have been suffering from "mild" altitude sickness or hypoxia at this point.
what a view!
Nevertheless, I continued to climb. Now that I knew what was happening, everything was under control. Right? There were several tricky torii on my ascent. Then, suddenly, I was at the crater. I celebrated with a Pocari Sweat. I then decided to walk around the crater. As I was approaching the research station during my loop, it seemed to be darker than it should have been. It definitely was not a storm approaching. I checked my watch. I had plenty of time. Wait. what was that little bar icon at the bottom? Oh-oh. I had a dual-time Casio digital watch at the time. Apparently, I had inadvertently switched my watch to Ottawa time. All of Japan is 13 hours ahead of Ottawa. So, looking at the watch quickly, as I had been the whole time up til now, I thought it was an hour earlier than it really was.
the belly of the beast, the view in to the crater
Well, no time to go up to the research station, which from what I understand, would not even have been manned at that time of year anyway. Back to the groomed path and down. I also had to find where my turn off was to get to the track down to where I wanted and needed to come down at to be headed in the right direction for home and hopefully a cab.
the research station, it got dark fast
Ha, ha, ha. By the time I got to the first switch back, it was dark. Luckily, I also packed a headlamp and a flashlight. Across and down, across and down. I kept crossing what appeared to be a wide swath cut out of the slope all the way down to where I needed to get. Not knowing what it actually was or where it actually went I kept to the switchbacks. I later found out that it either had to do with controlling landslides or an attempt to put in cable cars. Not sure, but I would most likely have wiped out taking it at that altitude.
I kept going, following little markers indicating the path I needed. Well, the little markers suddenly vanished. This would have been the altitude that most visitors would not have passed. So, I surmised that people yanked them out of the ground as souvenirs. A little advice. Never, ever, remove trail markers. Unless, of course, they are grossly incorrect and you can confirm it. Otherwise, you may cause people to get lost and possibly injured or even killed. Anyway I ironically, and rudely, thanked those tourists for screwing me, and probably others, over, so they could get their trophies of their visit.
On my way down I saw several military helicopters fly by and mildly wished they saw me and would offer a lift. No dice, of course. On I went, the valiant fool. I reached an altitude where I could clearly see the pavilions and artificial lighting. I also saw the swath reach almost directly there. By this point, the angle of the slope was quite mild. I abandoned the switchbacks and kicked it in to overdrive and went headlong right for civilisation. I am I pretty sure I actually saw some vehicles. Well, by the time I got right down in the pavilion, not one person, car, bus, cab, nothing.
The bathrooms were open. So, I went for a pee. I had not gone since we got in the cab to get there. Not too much came out. I washed up and headed out to the "road". One thing, I was surprised that the bathrooms smelled like your regular, everyday, North American campground bathrooms. Everything in Japan is usually clean, tidy, and looked after.
Out on the road, which was not so much more than a dirt track. Along I went. I knew and remembered which way to go. Was I ever hoping someone would drive by and give me a lift. Not along there. I was not alone though. Plenty of wild dogs running alongside me in the woods and crossing my path in front and in behind. Barking, scuffling amongst themselves. I was seriously concerned. On went the leathers, flashlight in one hand, a hearty stick in the other. They got as close as a couple/few feet. I never saw more than their eyes though. Not sure why they did not try anything or just even come out. Maybe I smelled too differently to them or moved too differently. I do not know.
What I do know? I know I had to hike out down this road somewhere around six to eight kilometres to get to the main road and my only company was a bunch of really freaky dogs that I am sure were trying to determine if I was worth eating or not. Stray, feral dogs are problematic in Asia. I saw this more so in Taiwan than in Japan, but it appears to be pretty universal after a quick search on the interweb. These guys dogged me the whole way I was on foot (pun intended).
Once I was on the main road I figured there would be more traffic and someone would pick me up. If not out of kindness, then out of amusement. How many Japanese people really have the opportunity to pick up a big, white guy in swimtrunks and a toque on the side of a rural highway? I mean, what story it would be.
Out on the "main" road the doggies subsided a bit, but I had to keep looking around. I had to ditch the the headlamp, flashlight, and stick, lest I look like some deranged highwayman. Oh look, someone is approaching. Thumb out, hopeful, happy expression. Bastard! No dice. Somebody else. Same thing. I do not know how many people passed me, but it was not looking good. It was fifteen to twenty kliks to the the sports camp.
I probably covered five k when I realised I was probably going to have to find a safe place for the night away from the dogs. You see, the camp closed its gates at 11:00 pm. I was running out of time fast. I had probably covered another five kilometres before one of the few vehicles to pass me in my direction stopped. I was so, so happy. And relieved. It was a young, friendly woman in a minivan type contraption. I did my best to explain where I was going. It was on this road, I knew that. So, it had to be on her way. There were not many places to turn off between where we were and the camp.
She intimated that her English was very minimal, but was fairly clear that she knew not of what I spoke. Okay, thank you... Crap. On I went. A few more vehicles whipped past me. Then, a few k down the road, it appeared a car that just passed me had stopped. I rounded the bend and ran up with a huge pie-eating grin and was about to say thanks for stopping. Well, it was an illusion. The vehicle braked for the bend, but it was another vehicle that was stopped. In fact, it was that young woman and she was on her phone. Well, I am pretty sure my expression changed to sadness and disappointment. I apologised and kept hoofing down the road, looking for a tree or something to climb for bedtime.
About five-ten minutes later, a van whips up beside me and stops. I look, it is her. I wondered if this was some weird game of chicken or screw around with the big nose, white devil? The window opens, and she says, in perfect, unaccented English: "Get in!"
Maaannn!! I was pretty ecstatic. I run around to the other side and get in. I apologise for my appearance and explain I had just climbed, Mount Fuji and have been walking back since then. She looks at me unimpressed and says: "You stink!" I was a bit surprised. I was wondering if this was a precursor to being kicked out of the vehicle and the bizarre game of chicken were to resume. Nope. She pulled in to the road and gunned it. Some awkward chit-chat. I see the gate to the camp and tell her this is my stop. Really? Yup. You're staying there? Yup. Okay.
She cuts over into the lane to the gate and stops. I get out and I as put my pack on my back and come around to say thanks, she peels out. Wow?! I guess I do stink. I had about five minutes to spare in the end before the gates were to be closed. If not for that ride, I would have had to have holed up somewhere or scaled the gate and risked who knows what kind of comedy of errors.
Anyway, safe and sound. I see two people walking from the gate. Not much to see out here. I then recognise who they are. One is the wife. I hustle over and nonchalantly ask what is going on. The wife is happy and relieved to see me. Apparently, she was starting to think that I either fell in to the crater or wiped out and knocked myself out on the slope. Nope. I do tell her the risk was greater from all the feral dogs on my way back. Mental note, do not tell the wife, even as a joke, that feral dogs were circling you in the middle of nowhere, where help would not be available. Never, ever, do that. Ever. Not even as a joke. Ever!
She tells me that they got back in good time from their excursion, but she has been worried the whole time. Sorry, but you know how stubborn I am. Yup, she does. No one had told Sensei that I had not gotten back yet. So, we head over to one of the cabins. Mine I think and there is Sensei with a bunch of Brazilian karate-ka who have just arrived and are staying with us at the camp until Shotocup. Sensei now learns that I went to the top and just got back. He laughs. He laughs at me a lot actually. I at times have been akin to a court jester to his elevated status. No worries. He tells the Brazilians what I did. They look at me in disbelief. Or maybe it was how I was dressed. Does not matter. They actually think I am shooting wind at them. Nope, I did. You did.? Yup. Here, drink this. What is it? Drink it. Okay.
Holy crap! Was that jet fuel? No; just a little something from home. I find out later it is some high-octane, dubiously legal, alcoholic substance from Brazil. Want another one. Um? Sure, but two sight blurring drinks is my limit. Apparently, three is my limit. I get hustled out of there before my spleen dissolves.
(Before I finish up here, I want to let people know, that I was misinformed and misled by several sources about climbing Mount Fuji before the trip. I learnt after returning to Canada that what I did was on the dangerous side. A Japanese friend informed the wife and I when we told her about our trip to Japan, that many people go missing and get injured on and around Mount Fuji, especially in the off-season. Some even die. Super. Also, those freaky, feral dogs are not to be trifled with. Again, one could get hurt or even killed by them. Double super. There you have it: research, research, research.)
Wash up. Wash up again. Hard sleep and more adventures for the rest of the trip. The big downside. I brought a pair of dress Doc Martens shoes and the Nike ACGs. That was it. For some reason, I brought the wrong Docs. I had this pair before my feet grew a whole size and forgot about that. The ACGs? They were saturated with volcanic dust. Every time I took my shoes off, my socks, and feet, were coated in black volcanic dust. This is Japan. Shoes must be removed most of the time indoors.
mt fuji at night from the camp
I did try to purchase another pair of shoes or boots, but when I did find my size, the price was outlandish. I could not justify paying what was being asked for the footwear. I pretty much had to wear the too small shoes for most rest of the trip so as to not offend anyone with my filthy, volcanic dust covered socks and feet. So much for Fuji-san the holy mountain, no one revered my feet. blbbl
what could very well have been the last image of me taken alive
thankfully not, i have many more foolish things to accomplish yet
Monday, May 29, 2017
cedar grove trail - not my private trail
It is not that I ever thought it was mine, or more mine than it was others. It is just largely that I have gotten used to being alone on the trail or with a hiking buddy even. That now, when I run in to anybody, I am a bit disappointed. I know it is silly and perhaps selfish. I realised this on the Sunday when my canoe training was over.
Canoe training was over and I went to get my daily hike in. I was actually taking it easy and for once, hiking at a slow pace. As I approached the bridge over the spillway, I heard several voices, and they were not in my head. There was a group of five or six people with a dog so big it could be mistaken for a small Shetland pony. They were about 300 metres behind me and I could hear them quite clearly. They must have caught up to me when I did a small loop in the trail.
They were obviously gaining on me, but they were moving just barely faster than me, that, if we maintained these paces, it would probably take at least a kilometre to catch up to me and then at least another kilometre before they passed out of audible range, plus I would be hiking "with them" for some time. I just wanted to be on my own. So, I picked up my pace just a little bit, and when I hit the treeline where they would not see me and so not to appear rude, I powered it for about ¾ km. No sign of them visibly or audibly.
I returned to my easy pace and enjoyed the rest of the hike on my own. It is very contemplative to hike solo, or even with the right companion. It is a kind of mediation for me that I have come to look forward to daily. I can explore my thoughts freely, or not at all and just take in the surroundings. Maybe, someday, the trail may dry out and it could become tempting to sit under a tree and just chillax.
The only good thing with the crappy weather and hiking, is that it almost guarantees I will be alone out there.
On my "private" trail. blbbl
Canoe training was over and I went to get my daily hike in. I was actually taking it easy and for once, hiking at a slow pace. As I approached the bridge over the spillway, I heard several voices, and they were not in my head. There was a group of five or six people with a dog so big it could be mistaken for a small Shetland pony. They were about 300 metres behind me and I could hear them quite clearly. They must have caught up to me when I did a small loop in the trail.
They were obviously gaining on me, but they were moving just barely faster than me, that, if we maintained these paces, it would probably take at least a kilometre to catch up to me and then at least another kilometre before they passed out of audible range, plus I would be hiking "with them" for some time. I just wanted to be on my own. So, I picked up my pace just a little bit, and when I hit the treeline where they would not see me and so not to appear rude, I powered it for about ¾ km. No sign of them visibly or audibly.
I returned to my easy pace and enjoyed the rest of the hike on my own. It is very contemplative to hike solo, or even with the right companion. It is a kind of mediation for me that I have come to look forward to daily. I can explore my thoughts freely, or not at all and just take in the surroundings. Maybe, someday, the trail may dry out and it could become tempting to sit under a tree and just chillax.
The only good thing with the crappy weather and hiking, is that it almost guarantees I will be alone out there.
On my "private" trail. blbbl
Sunday, May 28, 2017
back home - i hate backyard pools
Got home after a terrific Scout Camp with our southern cousins.So, this post will be short, I am very, very tired.
However, I was in the process of opening our pool before the boy and I left for the Camp. Yet, with the tall grass and all the rain we had, I needed to put it off. The wife suggested when we got back, rightly I might add, that we should get the cover off today.
There was new water accumulated on the pool tarp, so I tried to drain it to no avail. Draining, because I am a cheapskate, requires me to stick a hose in the water on the tarp and suck back on the other end until it runs freely. Well, it would not work, try as I might. It was decided, mostly as we had no choice, to pull the leaf net and tarp off to work on opening the pool.
As an aside, I will be securing the tarp and leaf net next year with separate cables so we can pull the leaves off on their own and then the tarp. Reducing the chance of draining gungy water from the tarp directly in to the pool. And hopefully, reducing the number of times I have to suck back filthy brown leaf-tarp water. Not so yummy.
The wife enlisted the troll battling neighbour. He was a trooper. As it all evolved, he ended up with most of the stinky water, that spilt out, landing on him as we pulled a pregnant, water filled tarp off the top of the pool. If I actually planned it, it would have been perfect. I did not plan it, as I would rather it landed on me. As I informed the troll hunter, I will not ask him to do that ever again. No one needs that happening to them, even by accident.
Shortly after, the wife brought over to the neighbour a tub of home-made, by the wife, cherry-chocolate ice cream (made with real, fresh cherries, yup real and fresh). It was a very small thank-you for getting our stinky water all over him. We will be making him and his fam a supper in the next short while as a better thank-you. I like to think I (and the wife too) pay back help from friends quite well.
Anyway, the tarp was full of little holes. So, the gross and disgusting brown leaf water had been seeping in to the pool, for who knows how long. And this is where I hate math and physics. If there were holes in the tarp? Why was it so hard to pull the tarp off, if it was leaking disgusting water back in to the pool?
Anyway, currently running the hose for its second two hour session of putting water in to the pool to get it back up to spec. Tomorrow, I will pick up an "opening kit", a batch of chemicals meant to sort out and clarify the water. The pump should also be pumping the gunge in to the filter reservoir and be swimable once the air temperature is consistently at a comfortable level.
Sorry, I need to sign off. I am apparently much more tired than I thought, as I am making major typos and the like for no good reason. Not to mention all the eye closing.
Soon, I will post about volcanoes and wild dogs.
Once again, nighty-night all. blbbl
However, I was in the process of opening our pool before the boy and I left for the Camp. Yet, with the tall grass and all the rain we had, I needed to put it off. The wife suggested when we got back, rightly I might add, that we should get the cover off today.
There was new water accumulated on the pool tarp, so I tried to drain it to no avail. Draining, because I am a cheapskate, requires me to stick a hose in the water on the tarp and suck back on the other end until it runs freely. Well, it would not work, try as I might. It was decided, mostly as we had no choice, to pull the leaf net and tarp off to work on opening the pool.
As an aside, I will be securing the tarp and leaf net next year with separate cables so we can pull the leaves off on their own and then the tarp. Reducing the chance of draining gungy water from the tarp directly in to the pool. And hopefully, reducing the number of times I have to suck back filthy brown leaf-tarp water. Not so yummy.
The wife enlisted the troll battling neighbour. He was a trooper. As it all evolved, he ended up with most of the stinky water, that spilt out, landing on him as we pulled a pregnant, water filled tarp off the top of the pool. If I actually planned it, it would have been perfect. I did not plan it, as I would rather it landed on me. As I informed the troll hunter, I will not ask him to do that ever again. No one needs that happening to them, even by accident.
Shortly after, the wife brought over to the neighbour a tub of home-made, by the wife, cherry-chocolate ice cream (made with real, fresh cherries, yup real and fresh). It was a very small thank-you for getting our stinky water all over him. We will be making him and his fam a supper in the next short while as a better thank-you. I like to think I (and the wife too) pay back help from friends quite well.
Anyway, the tarp was full of little holes. So, the gross and disgusting brown leaf water had been seeping in to the pool, for who knows how long. And this is where I hate math and physics. If there were holes in the tarp? Why was it so hard to pull the tarp off, if it was leaking disgusting water back in to the pool?
Anyway, currently running the hose for its second two hour session of putting water in to the pool to get it back up to spec. Tomorrow, I will pick up an "opening kit", a batch of chemicals meant to sort out and clarify the water. The pump should also be pumping the gunge in to the filter reservoir and be swimable once the air temperature is consistently at a comfortable level.
Sorry, I need to sign off. I am apparently much more tired than I thought, as I am making major typos and the like for no good reason. Not to mention all the eye closing.
Soon, I will post about volcanoes and wild dogs.
Once again, nighty-night all. blbbl
Saturday, May 27, 2017
day two on the road at can-am
What a day. Woke up at 5:00 am. Got out of my tent at 6:00 am. It was non-stop from then until now.
Early morning hike for me, breakfast, flag raising ceremony, activities, lunch, more activities. So, the activities were canoeing (and kayaking), fire building skills, pioneering, and hiking.
Canoeing is pretty straightforward.
The fire building was cool. I got to see some of that. They had spark-lite kits. Basically a sparker and compressed fluff tabs. The various Scouts built fires with various tinder and kindling and the fluff tabs, igniting the fires with the sparkers. Very neat. I will be buying some of those for go-bags and emergency kits. They also tried their hands at lighting a match with a hatchet. Basically, the matches are upright on a board and you try to strike the match with the hatchet to light it. One Scout lit five out of seven matches. That was fantastic.
The pioneering is basically lashing spars together to make a structure. Camp Sheldrick has three telephone poles bolted together to make a huge tripod. So, the various groups lashed spars to the structure making a giant ladder. We took a group picture on it later.
Hiking was my activity to run. We covered the basics for a successful hike and took short hikes. In the end, by supper, I hiked nine-and-a-half kliks. After supper, I was restless. So, I banged off another one-and-a-half kliks, for a total of eleven k today.
After that, we lowered the flags and did the group photos. Then there was a campfire with songs, skits, and cheers. Then a short fireworks display. After that, an American Scouter put on a magic show, did card tricks, and even made balloon animals.
There were even some telescopes put out for stargazing.
Night-time snack followed. Right now a bunch of them are jamming with a guitar or two.
I do not know where they are drawing this energy from, but I keep having to put my phone down while typing this, as my eyes want to keep closing.
I need to turn in as there is another busy morning tomorrow.
Nighty-night rabbits. See you in the morning. blbbl
Friday, May 26, 2017
my first "on the road" post
Currently at Camp Sheldrick near Winchester, Ontario with the North Grenville Kemptville Scout Troop.
I have been chasing after the day since I woke up this morning. Actually, I have been doing it all week since the holiday Monday.
This is the Can-Am Camp; Canadian and American Scout Groups getting together in camaraderie and common cause.
Met some great people already tonight and expect to make more new friends tomorrow and Sunday.
I had something else completely I wanted to post about, but I will save it for next week. It deals with wild dogs and dormant volcanoes. Like I said, it has been as if I have had fewer hours to get things done all week.
I thought I had everything covered for this weekend, but I will be freely grinding my teeth tonight. As I have left my night guard at home. Oh well. I forgot one other thing, but it is my problem and I will live. I will get my old mouth guards from my karate days and pack them in various bags for backups for the future.
I did manage to get a quick hike in here. Short. I will have some trouble getting 4k in tomorrow. I will probably do laps.
What else? This nighthawk has been wanting to go to sleep for the last sixty plus minutes. Very unusual for me. I think the grass cutting, raking, and cutting again (yes, I cut the grass again yesterday and in the rain too) has taken more out of me than I really want to admit. Also, I cannot seem to rehydrate myself either. That will knock the stuffing out of you if you are not careful.
Wow. I dozed off for few seconds while typing. I think I will sign off before I type in 10,000 w's. Good night. See everyone bright and early tomorrow. blbbl
Thursday, May 25, 2017
born out of time
I had an epiphany today while taking the boy to his archery lesson tonight.
He was born out of time. His character and many of his interests are medieval. At least of an earlier time.
He is in to HEMA, following the Liechtenauer System (approx. 1350-1600). Basically, the original MMA: Medieval Martial Arts. His favourites are pollaxe, dagger, and of course the longsword. He also wants to get in to the war hammer.
He was always into archery and is now taking lessons using a recurve bow.
He loves animals, truly loves animals. Not the I want a dog and ignore it in the corner type of deal. More like you would see in movies like Ladyhawke. I mentioned about my getting in to falconry. He will more likely follow through on it than I will.
His sense of right and wrong also does not jive with this day and age. He is not a man of this era.
Most every adult that meets him is impressed by his attitude and demeanour. They are surprised by his outlook on this modern world and his (usual) maturity.
Other than the hard living, short lifespan, and all the disease and war, I am sure he would be at home living 700 to 400 years ago. Maybe even in spite of all the not so plus points to consider.
It also made me think of myself. I believe that I was born out of time as well. Not as far back as the boy.
More 19th century. I would be right at home in the late 1800s being one of those "gentleman" living off the good graces, and a stipend, of a tolerant and independently wealthy aunt or a bemused dowager looking for a project.
When I read Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome in St. Petersburg, Russia, I felt right at home in the story. Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest leaves me with the same warm fuzzy feelings. Although that story is less relaxed than the former.
I am not saying I want to be a kept man, beholden to someone else. However, it does have its charms. That is a whole other post though.
So, in essence, it appears the boy and I are time travellers. I have a mentality and outlook that takes me back over a hundred years and the boy's takes him back more than 400. How far back will his son or daughter travel with their disposition? Who knows: 600 years? 900? If this keeps up, my family's bloodline will end up in the stone age! (Some people may say it already does.)
Holy jumpin'!
Backward time travel is possible, just not how we envisioned it. blbbl
He was born out of time. His character and many of his interests are medieval. At least of an earlier time.
He is in to HEMA, following the Liechtenauer System (approx. 1350-1600). Basically, the original MMA: Medieval Martial Arts. His favourites are pollaxe, dagger, and of course the longsword. He also wants to get in to the war hammer.
He was always into archery and is now taking lessons using a recurve bow.
He loves animals, truly loves animals. Not the I want a dog and ignore it in the corner type of deal. More like you would see in movies like Ladyhawke. I mentioned about my getting in to falconry. He will more likely follow through on it than I will.
His sense of right and wrong also does not jive with this day and age. He is not a man of this era.
Most every adult that meets him is impressed by his attitude and demeanour. They are surprised by his outlook on this modern world and his (usual) maturity.
Other than the hard living, short lifespan, and all the disease and war, I am sure he would be at home living 700 to 400 years ago. Maybe even in spite of all the not so plus points to consider.
It also made me think of myself. I believe that I was born out of time as well. Not as far back as the boy.
More 19th century. I would be right at home in the late 1800s being one of those "gentleman" living off the good graces, and a stipend, of a tolerant and independently wealthy aunt or a bemused dowager looking for a project.
When I read Three Men in a Boat by Jerome K. Jerome in St. Petersburg, Russia, I felt right at home in the story. Oscar Wilde's The Importance of Being Earnest leaves me with the same warm fuzzy feelings. Although that story is less relaxed than the former.
I am not saying I want to be a kept man, beholden to someone else. However, it does have its charms. That is a whole other post though.
So, in essence, it appears the boy and I are time travellers. I have a mentality and outlook that takes me back over a hundred years and the boy's takes him back more than 400. How far back will his son or daughter travel with their disposition? Who knows: 600 years? 900? If this keeps up, my family's bloodline will end up in the stone age! (Some people may say it already does.)
Holy jumpin'!
Backward time travel is possible, just not how we envisioned it. blbbl
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
i hate yardwork
I truly despise doing yard work. Gardening? Love it. But cutting grass, raking it, weed-whacking? Cannot stand doing it.
It does not help that lawn tractors, mowers, and weed-eaters all conspire against me to get the job done.
When we first moved to where we are now, we had a mower given to us. I know why. It was messed up. I fixed it and got it running like a top. Even though it was a straight gas mower, it ran better on mixed fuel. Like a chainsaw. Oh well. Then, eventually, it would not run without the carb jammed fully open with a screwdriver. Gave it away for scrap.
We then got a lawn tractor. It was the bottom of the range, but we got a really great deal. It ran well for two seasons. Then it needed a tune up. Then an overhaul. And another.... It went on. I gave it away for scrap at the beginning of the season last year.
What I learnt about tractors? No matter what you do to maintain them and what range of quality it is, unless you are on top of it and truly very handy with them, get rid of them by the end of the third season. This thing in the end tried to kill me more than once. The brakes failed several times. At the end of the last season I used it, it made some really weird clunking and clanking noises, then it would not go in forward. My last cut with it was in reverse. ¾ of an acre cut in reverse. It was fun, but crazy.
After that I resolved to get a quality mower. A Craftsman. It ran really well. The bagger was tiny though and I stopped using it. I had to empty it every 1 & ½ lengths of the back garden. Not worth the hassle. By the end of the season, it was misbehaving. Oddly though, after the winter it is running fine for the most part.
What did I learn about mowers? Buy at the bottom of the price range and dump it when it starts to act up. Now I need to keep this "quality" mower for at least two more seasons after this one to get my money's worth.
Weed-whackers are all wacky. I buy the Weedeater brand, but I only use it a couple or few times a year. Those coil dispensers are all evil. I bought an adaptor from Lee Valley Tools. It is so much better. I bought a loose spool of the hardiest cable and cut my own lengths. No headaches banging that stupid thing on the ground to get it to feed. I recommend getting one if you hate those "self-feeding" spools.
That all being said. I hate raking grass the most of all. Raking leaves? I do not mind and I usually pile them up on something being left over the winter in the veggie garden for insulation. No worries. Grass though? Man-o-man! Madness. Our grass grows really quickly. It needs to be cut two to three times a week. Otherwise, It gets super tall and cuts badly. So, In the end I do a lot more raking than I would have ever imagined.
This year. Well, every year, I get started later than usual. So, the first couple of cuts are horrible. Lots of uneven grass and lots and lots of raking.
Back to this year. This year has been the worst. Up until a couple of weeks ago, most of the yard in the back was waterlogged, parts were even submerged. Then, we had a couple of hot days and everything started to dry out. The grass was over a foot-and-a-half in places. I knew I was not going to like it.
The wife suggested hiring someone to do the first cut. We know someone that does great work. We discussed it, came to the conclusion that we were going to be busier than usual this spring and summer, especially with the boy and I gone for a couple of weeks at the Scout Jamboree.
I finally spoke with the guy last Friday to come in and cut the yards, front and back, for the season. Great price too. He said he would come by this past Monday to do the first cut. He did not come by. No call, no text, no email, no sticky on the front door. I figured he was not interested in the end. Regardless, the grass needed cutting. It needed cutting right away if I did not know if he would ever come.
I wrestled the mower out of the shed already, but I dreaded trying to start it. It only took a couple of pulls in the end. As I said earlier, it ran pretty well after its winter vacation. No problems with the mower really. I did however think that the grass may kill the mower. It did not, but it kept stalling because the grass was so tall it was clogging the cutting deck. It was stopping every half minute or so.
I did something that you will hear people say, "Now, don't try this at home!" I lifted the chute for the bagger and jammed it open with a stick. Not truly bright, but I was wearing long pants and safety boots. I always wear safety boots when using devices that can maim me. Now the grass was shooting out, in addition to the side, out the back. At me. On me. All over me. Fortunately, I was not hit by more than a few pieces of bark and lots and lots of grass. Do not do this. Really. I could have hurt myself, but I am stubborn and wanted to get it done before I would have to check for tigers and snakes before cutting.
It took me three-and-a-half hours. Just cutting. I did not rake, I was done in. I usually do not rake the same day I cut anyway. I let it dry out some before bagging it. It is lighter and takes up less space in yard waste bags.
Today, I raked. Two-and-a-half hours. Not happy about it. Part of the problem, other than not liking doing it, is that no matter what, when I use long-handled tools like rakes, shovels, etc., my hands are raw when I am done. Gloves, no gloves, it does not matter. My hands are sore, I often end up with blisters. I am not a dainty guy. I worked for a farmer in my youth, bailing hay and cleaning out chicken coops. I have worked in factories; the best, I worked in an iron foundry. The crappiest job to do, which was always tasked to the lowest on the pole, me, was shovelling hot iron filings that fell off the conveyor system and slinging them in to a giant bucket for a crane to lift away and put it back in to the system for some of it to spill off again. Awesome.
I have also worked in home building and in geothermal heating/cooling installation. Plus, I was in the army. And, and, I was actually the lead-hand for a landscaping crew at a cemetery. It is just the way my hands are. I will eventually build up calluses, but I need to work the shovel, rake, what have you, daily. It takes weeks for my hands to harden. Then, if I take more than one day off, I pretty much have to start over.
Anyway, my hands are sore and I have a blister. The wife is not here to kiss my boo-boo either. In those two-and-a-half hours, I filled up four yard waste bags, right up to the top. I had to borrow one from the neighbour, yet again. I also filled up two paper horse feed bags, to the top. And, our green bins now have no room left either.
When I cut again tomorrow or the day after, I will have to rake again. You can see why I wanted to hire someone for at least the first cut. Let me tell you though. I am not mad, upset, disappointed, or have any ill-will to the fellow. He is a friend of mine in fact. He has actually done me a favour. I now get to work my upper body mowing and raking. I am saving money. And when we are away at the Jamboree, the neighbour's the boy, does yard work too. He did a couple cuts for us last year, and a fine job he did too.
For once, everything has worked out in the end. I still hate raking though. blbbl
It does not help that lawn tractors, mowers, and weed-eaters all conspire against me to get the job done.
When we first moved to where we are now, we had a mower given to us. I know why. It was messed up. I fixed it and got it running like a top. Even though it was a straight gas mower, it ran better on mixed fuel. Like a chainsaw. Oh well. Then, eventually, it would not run without the carb jammed fully open with a screwdriver. Gave it away for scrap.
We then got a lawn tractor. It was the bottom of the range, but we got a really great deal. It ran well for two seasons. Then it needed a tune up. Then an overhaul. And another.... It went on. I gave it away for scrap at the beginning of the season last year.
What I learnt about tractors? No matter what you do to maintain them and what range of quality it is, unless you are on top of it and truly very handy with them, get rid of them by the end of the third season. This thing in the end tried to kill me more than once. The brakes failed several times. At the end of the last season I used it, it made some really weird clunking and clanking noises, then it would not go in forward. My last cut with it was in reverse. ¾ of an acre cut in reverse. It was fun, but crazy.
After that I resolved to get a quality mower. A Craftsman. It ran really well. The bagger was tiny though and I stopped using it. I had to empty it every 1 & ½ lengths of the back garden. Not worth the hassle. By the end of the season, it was misbehaving. Oddly though, after the winter it is running fine for the most part.
What did I learn about mowers? Buy at the bottom of the price range and dump it when it starts to act up. Now I need to keep this "quality" mower for at least two more seasons after this one to get my money's worth.
Weed-whackers are all wacky. I buy the Weedeater brand, but I only use it a couple or few times a year. Those coil dispensers are all evil. I bought an adaptor from Lee Valley Tools. It is so much better. I bought a loose spool of the hardiest cable and cut my own lengths. No headaches banging that stupid thing on the ground to get it to feed. I recommend getting one if you hate those "self-feeding" spools.
That all being said. I hate raking grass the most of all. Raking leaves? I do not mind and I usually pile them up on something being left over the winter in the veggie garden for insulation. No worries. Grass though? Man-o-man! Madness. Our grass grows really quickly. It needs to be cut two to three times a week. Otherwise, It gets super tall and cuts badly. So, In the end I do a lot more raking than I would have ever imagined.
This year. Well, every year, I get started later than usual. So, the first couple of cuts are horrible. Lots of uneven grass and lots and lots of raking.
Back to this year. This year has been the worst. Up until a couple of weeks ago, most of the yard in the back was waterlogged, parts were even submerged. Then, we had a couple of hot days and everything started to dry out. The grass was over a foot-and-a-half in places. I knew I was not going to like it.
The wife suggested hiring someone to do the first cut. We know someone that does great work. We discussed it, came to the conclusion that we were going to be busier than usual this spring and summer, especially with the boy and I gone for a couple of weeks at the Scout Jamboree.
I finally spoke with the guy last Friday to come in and cut the yards, front and back, for the season. Great price too. He said he would come by this past Monday to do the first cut. He did not come by. No call, no text, no email, no sticky on the front door. I figured he was not interested in the end. Regardless, the grass needed cutting. It needed cutting right away if I did not know if he would ever come.
I wrestled the mower out of the shed already, but I dreaded trying to start it. It only took a couple of pulls in the end. As I said earlier, it ran pretty well after its winter vacation. No problems with the mower really. I did however think that the grass may kill the mower. It did not, but it kept stalling because the grass was so tall it was clogging the cutting deck. It was stopping every half minute or so.
I did something that you will hear people say, "Now, don't try this at home!" I lifted the chute for the bagger and jammed it open with a stick. Not truly bright, but I was wearing long pants and safety boots. I always wear safety boots when using devices that can maim me. Now the grass was shooting out, in addition to the side, out the back. At me. On me. All over me. Fortunately, I was not hit by more than a few pieces of bark and lots and lots of grass. Do not do this. Really. I could have hurt myself, but I am stubborn and wanted to get it done before I would have to check for tigers and snakes before cutting.
It took me three-and-a-half hours. Just cutting. I did not rake, I was done in. I usually do not rake the same day I cut anyway. I let it dry out some before bagging it. It is lighter and takes up less space in yard waste bags.
Today, I raked. Two-and-a-half hours. Not happy about it. Part of the problem, other than not liking doing it, is that no matter what, when I use long-handled tools like rakes, shovels, etc., my hands are raw when I am done. Gloves, no gloves, it does not matter. My hands are sore, I often end up with blisters. I am not a dainty guy. I worked for a farmer in my youth, bailing hay and cleaning out chicken coops. I have worked in factories; the best, I worked in an iron foundry. The crappiest job to do, which was always tasked to the lowest on the pole, me, was shovelling hot iron filings that fell off the conveyor system and slinging them in to a giant bucket for a crane to lift away and put it back in to the system for some of it to spill off again. Awesome.
I have also worked in home building and in geothermal heating/cooling installation. Plus, I was in the army. And, and, I was actually the lead-hand for a landscaping crew at a cemetery. It is just the way my hands are. I will eventually build up calluses, but I need to work the shovel, rake, what have you, daily. It takes weeks for my hands to harden. Then, if I take more than one day off, I pretty much have to start over.
Anyway, my hands are sore and I have a blister. The wife is not here to kiss my boo-boo either. In those two-and-a-half hours, I filled up four yard waste bags, right up to the top. I had to borrow one from the neighbour, yet again. I also filled up two paper horse feed bags, to the top. And, our green bins now have no room left either.
When I cut again tomorrow or the day after, I will have to rake again. You can see why I wanted to hire someone for at least the first cut. Let me tell you though. I am not mad, upset, disappointed, or have any ill-will to the fellow. He is a friend of mine in fact. He has actually done me a favour. I now get to work my upper body mowing and raking. I am saving money. And when we are away at the Jamboree, the neighbour's the boy, does yard work too. He did a couple cuts for us last year, and a fine job he did too.
For once, everything has worked out in the end. I still hate raking though. blbbl
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
i am being stalked
That is correct.
By an apparition of some sort. Or maybe an inter-dimensional being. Not sure yet.
You know that feeling you get or when you see something out of the corner of your eye. Then you look and nothing is there. Or even when you hear something and you look around and nothing appears to be about that could have made the sound.
This is what is going on.
For about five days now.
It can be a bit unsettling at times.
Mind you, it is better than some of the creepy stuff in movies. We see what is going on as the audience, but the poor sap about to be done in does not. At least it is not like that. I think.
Normally, this feeling or perceived image is a one off. You know, you think you hear someone call your name or say something, but it is patently not so. Or you think someone passes you on the periphery of your vision, and again, not so.
This occasional "is someone there or not" feeling is something I have had all my life as far back as I can remember. These repeated bouts, like now, normally occur when I am trying to sleep and cannot or am sleeping poorly. I suffer from insomnia, sometimes it is really bad. When I am going through my unsettled sleep, I often hear or see movement. Usually outside the bedroom. When I cannot decide if it is an illusion or not, I grab my big flashlight (sometimes my favourite butcher knife too) and go through the whole house to make sure no one uninvited is in my home.
Of course, nothing has ever been there. Sometimes, I will find in the basement a box that was not stacked right and has shifted. That may very well be the gnomes going through my stuff though. I hate those guys. Yet the feeling is so intense that I saw someone moving around and making noise that I cannot reconcile that it was more than likely my subconscious messing with me.
This time. It is while I am fully awake, during the day, a bit around dusk too. Not voices or images. Just fleeting glimpses of something unidentifiable and odd noises that cannot be defined. A very different sensation than most other times.
I may very well be going insane, but I think the voices in my head would let me know that. They have been pretty quiet about all these goings on. Not sure what they think. I am also sleeping pretty soundly too.
So, I figure all that is left is someone or something ethereal (unworldly?) that has unfinished business or is stuck here from somewhere else and has somehow gotten locked in to an orbit around me.
That makes sense? Right?
Quiet, I was not talking to you. Sorry the voices are interrupting me. blbbl
By an apparition of some sort. Or maybe an inter-dimensional being. Not sure yet.
You know that feeling you get or when you see something out of the corner of your eye. Then you look and nothing is there. Or even when you hear something and you look around and nothing appears to be about that could have made the sound.
This is what is going on.
For about five days now.
It can be a bit unsettling at times.
Mind you, it is better than some of the creepy stuff in movies. We see what is going on as the audience, but the poor sap about to be done in does not. At least it is not like that. I think.
Normally, this feeling or perceived image is a one off. You know, you think you hear someone call your name or say something, but it is patently not so. Or you think someone passes you on the periphery of your vision, and again, not so.
This occasional "is someone there or not" feeling is something I have had all my life as far back as I can remember. These repeated bouts, like now, normally occur when I am trying to sleep and cannot or am sleeping poorly. I suffer from insomnia, sometimes it is really bad. When I am going through my unsettled sleep, I often hear or see movement. Usually outside the bedroom. When I cannot decide if it is an illusion or not, I grab my big flashlight (sometimes my favourite butcher knife too) and go through the whole house to make sure no one uninvited is in my home.
Of course, nothing has ever been there. Sometimes, I will find in the basement a box that was not stacked right and has shifted. That may very well be the gnomes going through my stuff though. I hate those guys. Yet the feeling is so intense that I saw someone moving around and making noise that I cannot reconcile that it was more than likely my subconscious messing with me.
This time. It is while I am fully awake, during the day, a bit around dusk too. Not voices or images. Just fleeting glimpses of something unidentifiable and odd noises that cannot be defined. A very different sensation than most other times.
So, I figure all that is left is someone or something ethereal (unworldly?) that has unfinished business or is stuck here from somewhere else and has somehow gotten locked in to an orbit around me.
That makes sense? Right?
Quiet, I was not talking to you. Sorry the voices are interrupting me. blbbl
Monday, May 22, 2017
my train of thought has derailed
I had a thought for a post today. I even thought I started it this morning. Yet, lo and behold, I have nothing in my drafts. I also have no memory of what it was. I do know I thought it would have been a really good topic, but that is it.
I hate that. When you cannot remember what you were going to do. I go through cycles of it every now and again. I hope this is a one off and not the start of another one. I do keep a notebook for ideas for the rooster, as well as other tasks and responsibilities. However, I have not been using it lately. I will drag it around with me again.
Years ago, I had what I am certain was CFS. No one believed me, not even my doctor. It can be difficult to diagnose, but not even the doctor had any compassion for my situation. How did I get through it and past it? I made sure I read a lot, which was really hard to do. I also trained in Shotokan Karate as much as I could. Without those two activities, I do not think I would have beat it.
Now, I do no think CFS is rearing its ugly head again, but when I go through these bouts, I worry. I do not like being forgetful.
As to activities to keep the mind and body sharp. I hike at least 4 kliks (2½ mi.) a day. I started that on March 1st this year, and do not plan to stop any time soon. I have actually lost about 20 lbs (9 kg) since then. I read, not nearly as much as I should. So, I pulled a book off my shelf that I have yet to read: Two Murders in My Double Life by Josef Škvorecký. If my reading goes according to plan, I should be done with that one in a day or two and then be grabbing another tome off the shelf.
Anyway, I hope I pick up the thread of my idea again, it would have been great. I think. blbbl
I hate that. When you cannot remember what you were going to do. I go through cycles of it every now and again. I hope this is a one off and not the start of another one. I do keep a notebook for ideas for the rooster, as well as other tasks and responsibilities. However, I have not been using it lately. I will drag it around with me again.
Years ago, I had what I am certain was CFS. No one believed me, not even my doctor. It can be difficult to diagnose, but not even the doctor had any compassion for my situation. How did I get through it and past it? I made sure I read a lot, which was really hard to do. I also trained in Shotokan Karate as much as I could. Without those two activities, I do not think I would have beat it.
Now, I do no think CFS is rearing its ugly head again, but when I go through these bouts, I worry. I do not like being forgetful.
As to activities to keep the mind and body sharp. I hike at least 4 kliks (2½ mi.) a day. I started that on March 1st this year, and do not plan to stop any time soon. I have actually lost about 20 lbs (9 kg) since then. I read, not nearly as much as I should. So, I pulled a book off my shelf that I have yet to read: Two Murders in My Double Life by Josef Škvorecký. If my reading goes according to plan, I should be done with that one in a day or two and then be grabbing another tome off the shelf.
Anyway, I hope I pick up the thread of my idea again, it would have been great. I think. blbbl
Sunday, May 21, 2017
running out of gas - literally
Just got back from helping out a friend, a Scouter from my former Group, who ran out a gas. He was about 2 kliks from our exit on the highway. Of course, being the the great guy I am, I went with about 5 litres (a little over a gallon) to get him going. Well, he has a huge tank. It was not enough to get in whatever it is that takes the fuel to the engine. We tried and tried. He thought maybe because he was on an angle on the shoulder of the highway, maybe it was sloshing to the wrong side. We levelled it out, no go.
After a bit, we jumped in my truck and headed to the closest gas station. In fact, I used to work there. It actually closed early. So, to the next closest gas station. Which worked out well, as we could come up the highway from the right direction and pull up behind his truck. As opposed to me going down the highway and having to turn around the first time.
This time, it worked. I will remember that he needs near on ten litres of fuel to get his beast going. I missed supper with the family, but they understand. When you have to help friends, you help friends.
It reminds of the time I worked for a, not so small, home builder and they let me go for baloney reasons. A short while later, someone, who was a friend, called me and said they ran out of gas in a company truck just outside of town. He tried to contact his supervisor, the guy who canned me, and he would not pick up. It was Friday and the end of the day. I was also going out for the evening with the family as well. If he called not even two minutes later, literally, we would have been gone.
Of course, I went out and brought him gas. You cannot ignore friends. Nor can you ignore people in need. I have stopped many times over the years and picked up people stranded by the side of the road or helped get gas for people who ran out. It is not so hard to run out of gas.
I had a truck with a dent in the fuel tank. (That is how I got it.) And I would refill based on mileage because the fuel gauge did not read below a quarter tank. Well, every now and again, I would miscalculate. One time was on the highway between Hamilton and Ottawa. It was winter and it was miserable. I had a jerry can in the back and grabbed it. By a weird twist of fate I was just behind a cluster of vehicles that had pulled over. One of their cars crapped out. They gave me a ride to the gas station down the road.
Unfortunately, they abandoned the broken down car and did not go back. I had to cross the highway. Two lanes both directions with a huge ditch in the middle. I started hoofing back and sticking out the old thumb. It was about 10 kliks (over 6 miles) down the road back to my truck. No one would pick me up. I made it obvious that I had a jerry can in my hands so people would know I was going back to a vehicle to gas up and get on my way. I was probably about two or three kliks from the truck when someone finally pulled over.
Did I mention that it had started freezing rain while I was walking back? Well, I did. It sucked. I was very appreciative. The guy told me he picked me up because he knew what it was like to hitch. He had tried hitching several years back along the Alaska highway. Not a great idea apparently at that time. It could be a very long time before someone came by and most people would not stop. After that time, he said he always picked up hitchers. As long as they did not look like they might kill him. I am glad I did not look like a mass-murderer that day!
So, across four lanes of traffic and a very big ditch. Dump the gas in the belly of the beast and to the gas station to fill up and home I went. Very, very grateful to a stranger who did not give me his name. I do remember he drove a Saab though.
Well, I like to think I am helpful and I am also very grateful that other people are. Friends and strangers. I do believe in some kind of karma and would like to believe that Alaska highway hitcher was paid back handsomely. Me? Like the Alaska hitcher, I do not look for the payout. I just know what it is like to be stranded and do not wish it on anyone. blbbl
After a bit, we jumped in my truck and headed to the closest gas station. In fact, I used to work there. It actually closed early. So, to the next closest gas station. Which worked out well, as we could come up the highway from the right direction and pull up behind his truck. As opposed to me going down the highway and having to turn around the first time.
This time, it worked. I will remember that he needs near on ten litres of fuel to get his beast going. I missed supper with the family, but they understand. When you have to help friends, you help friends.
It reminds of the time I worked for a, not so small, home builder and they let me go for baloney reasons. A short while later, someone, who was a friend, called me and said they ran out of gas in a company truck just outside of town. He tried to contact his supervisor, the guy who canned me, and he would not pick up. It was Friday and the end of the day. I was also going out for the evening with the family as well. If he called not even two minutes later, literally, we would have been gone.
Of course, I went out and brought him gas. You cannot ignore friends. Nor can you ignore people in need. I have stopped many times over the years and picked up people stranded by the side of the road or helped get gas for people who ran out. It is not so hard to run out of gas.
I had a truck with a dent in the fuel tank. (That is how I got it.) And I would refill based on mileage because the fuel gauge did not read below a quarter tank. Well, every now and again, I would miscalculate. One time was on the highway between Hamilton and Ottawa. It was winter and it was miserable. I had a jerry can in the back and grabbed it. By a weird twist of fate I was just behind a cluster of vehicles that had pulled over. One of their cars crapped out. They gave me a ride to the gas station down the road.
Unfortunately, they abandoned the broken down car and did not go back. I had to cross the highway. Two lanes both directions with a huge ditch in the middle. I started hoofing back and sticking out the old thumb. It was about 10 kliks (over 6 miles) down the road back to my truck. No one would pick me up. I made it obvious that I had a jerry can in my hands so people would know I was going back to a vehicle to gas up and get on my way. I was probably about two or three kliks from the truck when someone finally pulled over.
Did I mention that it had started freezing rain while I was walking back? Well, I did. It sucked. I was very appreciative. The guy told me he picked me up because he knew what it was like to hitch. He had tried hitching several years back along the Alaska highway. Not a great idea apparently at that time. It could be a very long time before someone came by and most people would not stop. After that time, he said he always picked up hitchers. As long as they did not look like they might kill him. I am glad I did not look like a mass-murderer that day!
So, across four lanes of traffic and a very big ditch. Dump the gas in the belly of the beast and to the gas station to fill up and home I went. Very, very grateful to a stranger who did not give me his name. I do remember he drove a Saab though.
Well, I like to think I am helpful and I am also very grateful that other people are. Friends and strangers. I do believe in some kind of karma and would like to believe that Alaska highway hitcher was paid back handsomely. Me? Like the Alaska hitcher, I do not look for the payout. I just know what it is like to be stranded and do not wish it on anyone. blbbl
Saturday, May 20, 2017
32 minutes on the trail - holy jumpin'!
Yes, that is correct. Thirty-two freakin' minutes to do the loop. I did not run, but I was moving like a frightened hobbit.
Technically, it was 32:13 for time. However, when I cleared the gate at the trailhead, my phone acted up like the last time I set a best time. The camera was on, the button to take the screen capture would not activate. It was annoying. So, I am calling it 32 minutes. Plus, I actually stopped to retie one of my boots. So, I am pretty impressed.
The time to the cabin was 19:07, my last time was 23:35. So, I shaved off 4:28 at that point. My old total time was 38:45. So, even taking the "official" time, I shaved a total of 6:32. Wild man. Now, the recorded distances are weird, but I have had that happen before.
A few things though. The whole time I was hiking the trail, I felt like I would be lucky to just shave 45 seconds off my time. Also, the whole time I was hiking, I was talking to myself, laying out my path telling myself where to go when there was bad mud, roots, rocks, other obstacles. When I finished, I felt like I had the flu and damn near coughed out one of my lungs. When I got home and got out of the truck, my legs were kind of rubbery. Now, tonight, I feel quite tired. I will not be doing that again. I am done with that.
Except...
Friend Denis, late of Sudbury, said he could do the loop in thirty minutes. I told him my last best time was around 38 minutes and that I would be lucky to cut it down to 36. I am amazed I got the time I did today. Now, I am not saying that Denis could not do it in 30 minutes, but I really pushed myself today. I told him that when he is ready, I will go head-to-head with him.
That would be a race. Hike, run, jump, skip, hop, crawl, whatever to finish. I bet I could get it down to 30 minutes. However, It would not really be a hike, more like cross-country running madness.
We will see. We will see..... blbbl
Technically, it was 32:13 for time. However, when I cleared the gate at the trailhead, my phone acted up like the last time I set a best time. The camera was on, the button to take the screen capture would not activate. It was annoying. So, I am calling it 32 minutes. Plus, I actually stopped to retie one of my boots. So, I am pretty impressed.
The time to the cabin was 19:07, my last time was 23:35. So, I shaved off 4:28 at that point. My old total time was 38:45. So, even taking the "official" time, I shaved a total of 6:32. Wild man. Now, the recorded distances are weird, but I have had that happen before.
A few things though. The whole time I was hiking the trail, I felt like I would be lucky to just shave 45 seconds off my time. Also, the whole time I was hiking, I was talking to myself, laying out my path telling myself where to go when there was bad mud, roots, rocks, other obstacles. When I finished, I felt like I had the flu and damn near coughed out one of my lungs. When I got home and got out of the truck, my legs were kind of rubbery. Now, tonight, I feel quite tired. I will not be doing that again. I am done with that.
Except...
Friend Denis, late of Sudbury, said he could do the loop in thirty minutes. I told him my last best time was around 38 minutes and that I would be lucky to cut it down to 36. I am amazed I got the time I did today. Now, I am not saying that Denis could not do it in 30 minutes, but I really pushed myself today. I told him that when he is ready, I will go head-to-head with him.
That would be a race. Hike, run, jump, skip, hop, crawl, whatever to finish. I bet I could get it down to 30 minutes. However, It would not really be a hike, more like cross-country running madness.
We will see. We will see..... blbbl
at the cabin, the distance should be closer to 2½ kliks
but I was moving fast and it seems to lag updating sometimes
at the finish, i really poured it on
if only the phone did not try to sabotage me, my recorded time would be shorter
Friday, May 19, 2017
hiking app - map my tracks
As you well know, I have started using a new app to track my hikes. As of today, I have been using it for two weeks. I am not in to all the bells and whistles. I just really want to track my distances, speed, and where and when I am hiking.
One interesting side effect. The app is not unlike social media. One can comment and follow and link with others. The most fascinating part for me of that whole bit is the "Leaderboard". It compares you to everyone who uses the app and posts their activities publicly. You can also compare yourself to others in the same category.
When I first started, I was of course at the very bottom. After a week, in the compare all category I was 937 for the rolling month and 389 for the rolling week. After two weeks, 589 for the month and 325 for the week.
Hiking, after the first week I was 14 overall and for the week I was 3. After two weeks, I am 5 for the month and still 3 for the week. This is 14 days in using the app. It is interesting to see how one compares to others involved in the same pursuits. I am surprised at some of the jumps. I hike only around 4 or 5 kliks a day. Today, I was restless and went for a second. I was also trying to avoid the hundreds of wasps and a few psychotic bees hanging out at the back of the property where my vegetable garden is.
It really is not super important to me. Yet, it spurs one on to excel as well. I am still learning how to get the most out of the app and I have yet to find out if I can use it to upload my mapping of the trail for others to use in Google Maps or the like. I would really like to be able to do that, as I have mentioned before, there are no decent maps online of that trail. I have had to make my own before for Emergency Plans for Scout hikes on the trail. It would be good if groups like Scouts, Guides, and the like, who may need a map of the trail for a hike could have it at their fingertips.
Anyway, I like the app well enough for what I really want it for. I can also keep my stuff private, but I see no reason to hide my hikes and outdoor pursuits. You can check out my profile: sparkyca, if you like. The main page is: mapmytracks.com (it is a bit slow though). I know it is available in the Google Play Store as Map My Tracks Cycling Run Walk (by Tinderhouse) and is supposed to be available at Apple's App Store. There may better apps, and I know there a lot of apps that do the same thing, but I found this one based on reviews stating it was a good replacement for Google My Tracks after the "Big G" dumped it.
Anyway, if all goes well tomorrow, my monthly standing will bump to 4 overall and my weekly standing will hit 2. Not that that is important to me, but it is fun to see improvement. I may try to beat my personal best tomorrow too. The trail is mostly dried out and it is supposed to rain by Sunday, so I want to give it another try.
I am so excited, I hope I can sleep tonight. blbbl
One interesting side effect. The app is not unlike social media. One can comment and follow and link with others. The most fascinating part for me of that whole bit is the "Leaderboard". It compares you to everyone who uses the app and posts their activities publicly. You can also compare yourself to others in the same category.
When I first started, I was of course at the very bottom. After a week, in the compare all category I was 937 for the rolling month and 389 for the rolling week. After two weeks, 589 for the month and 325 for the week.
Hiking, after the first week I was 14 overall and for the week I was 3. After two weeks, I am 5 for the month and still 3 for the week. This is 14 days in using the app. It is interesting to see how one compares to others involved in the same pursuits. I am surprised at some of the jumps. I hike only around 4 or 5 kliks a day. Today, I was restless and went for a second. I was also trying to avoid the hundreds of wasps and a few psychotic bees hanging out at the back of the property where my vegetable garden is.
It really is not super important to me. Yet, it spurs one on to excel as well. I am still learning how to get the most out of the app and I have yet to find out if I can use it to upload my mapping of the trail for others to use in Google Maps or the like. I would really like to be able to do that, as I have mentioned before, there are no decent maps online of that trail. I have had to make my own before for Emergency Plans for Scout hikes on the trail. It would be good if groups like Scouts, Guides, and the like, who may need a map of the trail for a hike could have it at their fingertips.
Anyway, I like the app well enough for what I really want it for. I can also keep my stuff private, but I see no reason to hide my hikes and outdoor pursuits. You can check out my profile: sparkyca, if you like. The main page is: mapmytracks.com (it is a bit slow though). I know it is available in the Google Play Store as Map My Tracks Cycling Run Walk (by Tinderhouse) and is supposed to be available at Apple's App Store. There may better apps, and I know there a lot of apps that do the same thing, but I found this one based on reviews stating it was a good replacement for Google My Tracks after the "Big G" dumped it.
Anyway, if all goes well tomorrow, my monthly standing will bump to 4 overall and my weekly standing will hit 2. Not that that is important to me, but it is fun to see improvement. I may try to beat my personal best tomorrow too. The trail is mostly dried out and it is supposed to rain by Sunday, so I want to give it another try.
I am so excited, I hope I can sleep tonight. blbbl
Thursday, May 18, 2017
new restaurant - mexico casita cafe, richmond ontario
I am probably shooting myself in the foot promoting a restaurant. In that it may get so popular that I will never be able to get in again, but a great eatery should be be known, far and wide.
The wife learnt about a new Mexican restaurant that opened up a few months ago in Richmond, Ontario. The restaurant is Mexico Casita Cafe. We went this past Sunday for a Mothers' Day dinner. We had chips and pico de gallo to start and I also had the tortilla soup. Fantastic. Then for our mains, the boy had pulled steak burritos, the wife had chicken enchiladas. Me, pulled pork ranchero. All, to die for. The boy had a Jarritos soda and Mexican hot chocolate to drink. The wife some wine and me a couple of Mexican beers (Modelo and Tecate).
When we went to pay, we saw the soda fridge and saw various sodas from Mexico. The boy is a fan of Fanta and we added an orange Fanta to take home. When we got the bill, I thought there was a mistake. I thought we were actually undercharged. The total bill, with all applicable taxes, was sixty bucks! No mistake though, I asked. That was the total. To me, that is super cheap. I left a hefty tip and still thought it was a steal.
Today, we went again. The boy had archery lessons with a friend in Richmond and as he has the day off tomorrow and his buddy is staying over tonight, we went there again for dinner. Well, Sunday was not a fluke. Again, the food was over the top for taste and portion. This time we had chips and guacamole to start. For mains, the boy had pulled steak tacos (three of them, Thursday is taco night, so they are reduced), his buddy had pulled pork enchiladas (which he could not finish, it was such big a portion), the wife had the pulled steak ranchero, and I had chorizo tacos dorados. I initially thought they were kind of small; boy, was I wrong. The young lads had Jarritos sodas and the boy also had his Mexican hot chocolate again (by the way, the boy actually dislikes hot chocolate, so that pretty much says how awesome it is). The wife and I each had a Mexican Coke (no HFCS, but real cane sugar). How much? Sixty-eight bones all in. Another whopping tip and still super cheap in my opinion.
Most main courses come with a side of chips, rice, refried beans (that are super awesome, I know because the wife loves them and she hates refried beans) and/or a little salad. Needless to say, both times we have now eaten there, we had no room for desert. Next time, I will have a churro regardless.
All the staff are friendly. The service is great. Lovely, understated appointments throughout the restaurant. There are three El Yucateco hot sauces on every table, but you do not need them. Not that the food is spicy, but it has so much flavour. Normally, I use a lot of hot sauce and so does the boy. We both did not reach for them. We did try them this time by splashing some on the tortilla chips and I did put a bit on the boy's buddy's rice that I cadged from him, but that was it.
One thing that is a must. They have three little bowls of salsas that you can get with your meal. One is just jalapeño peppers (of which, the boy drinks the juice once they are all eaten, his expression is awesome). The other two, one is brown and smoky, the other green and tangy (the wife says it is lemony or limy). The brown and green salsa are not so much spicy as full of flavour. If you go, you will want to try them.
I am not sure when we are going again, but I bet it will be pretty soon. We are trying to convince various friends to go to dinner with us there. I cannot wait. M'mm m'mm. blbbl
The wife learnt about a new Mexican restaurant that opened up a few months ago in Richmond, Ontario. The restaurant is Mexico Casita Cafe. We went this past Sunday for a Mothers' Day dinner. We had chips and pico de gallo to start and I also had the tortilla soup. Fantastic. Then for our mains, the boy had pulled steak burritos, the wife had chicken enchiladas. Me, pulled pork ranchero. All, to die for. The boy had a Jarritos soda and Mexican hot chocolate to drink. The wife some wine and me a couple of Mexican beers (Modelo and Tecate).
When we went to pay, we saw the soda fridge and saw various sodas from Mexico. The boy is a fan of Fanta and we added an orange Fanta to take home. When we got the bill, I thought there was a mistake. I thought we were actually undercharged. The total bill, with all applicable taxes, was sixty bucks! No mistake though, I asked. That was the total. To me, that is super cheap. I left a hefty tip and still thought it was a steal.
Today, we went again. The boy had archery lessons with a friend in Richmond and as he has the day off tomorrow and his buddy is staying over tonight, we went there again for dinner. Well, Sunday was not a fluke. Again, the food was over the top for taste and portion. This time we had chips and guacamole to start. For mains, the boy had pulled steak tacos (three of them, Thursday is taco night, so they are reduced), his buddy had pulled pork enchiladas (which he could not finish, it was such big a portion), the wife had the pulled steak ranchero, and I had chorizo tacos dorados. I initially thought they were kind of small; boy, was I wrong. The young lads had Jarritos sodas and the boy also had his Mexican hot chocolate again (by the way, the boy actually dislikes hot chocolate, so that pretty much says how awesome it is). The wife and I each had a Mexican Coke (no HFCS, but real cane sugar). How much? Sixty-eight bones all in. Another whopping tip and still super cheap in my opinion.
Most main courses come with a side of chips, rice, refried beans (that are super awesome, I know because the wife loves them and she hates refried beans) and/or a little salad. Needless to say, both times we have now eaten there, we had no room for desert. Next time, I will have a churro regardless.
All the staff are friendly. The service is great. Lovely, understated appointments throughout the restaurant. There are three El Yucateco hot sauces on every table, but you do not need them. Not that the food is spicy, but it has so much flavour. Normally, I use a lot of hot sauce and so does the boy. We both did not reach for them. We did try them this time by splashing some on the tortilla chips and I did put a bit on the boy's buddy's rice that I cadged from him, but that was it.
the hot sauces and a jarritos soda
One thing that is a must. They have three little bowls of salsas that you can get with your meal. One is just jalapeño peppers (of which, the boy drinks the juice once they are all eaten, his expression is awesome). The other two, one is brown and smoky, the other green and tangy (the wife says it is lemony or limy). The brown and green salsa are not so much spicy as full of flavour. If you go, you will want to try them.
the salsas, done!
I am not sure when we are going again, but I bet it will be pretty soon. We are trying to convince various friends to go to dinner with us there. I cannot wait. M'mm m'mm. blbbl
you 'gotta' try this place
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