Posted on September 3, 2025 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

Trails and tales

Watching paint dry. Part 2

After a long day of travel, I arrived in Victoria. Metchosin to be more precise. My son, Peter, lives on a very unique property in the country. The land is very rugged surrounded by old growth forests and only a drive and a 5-iron from the marina at Pedder Bay. It was once a farm owned by a legendary woman who raised animals and had large gardens. She was called “The Cougar Lady”, as she hunted cougars who were killing cattle and other livestock at other farms in the region.

By the time I crawled into bed, I had been on the go for 22 hours. Just before I turned in, Peter asked me if I would like to go salmon fishing very early the following morning as conditions in the Juan de Fuca Strait were supposed to be ideal. To be honest, I wasn’t totally enamored with the thought of an early morning wakeup call.

As promised, it was a spectacular morning. As we pulled out into the strait, the fog was lifting over snowcapped mountains across the water in Washington state. There were dozens of other boats plying the waters, many of them very expensive with the best of modern equipment. Peter’s boat was a modest 18-footer.

We arrived at Beechy Head, one of the most popular spots in this part of the strait. You could tell that there was a lot of action as other boats were landing fish. Suddenly, one of Pete’s rods started to bend precipitously. “Dad. Grab the wheel.” I was now the skipper. After a healthy battle, Pete landed a 12-pound chinook salmon. His wide grin said it all. Not long after, he landed another chinook, this one larger than the first. Sadly, chinook #1, was lying lifeless at the back of the boat and with a one fish limit of this particular species, #2 was returned to the briny ocean tossed.

Five hours later, we returned to port with one chinook and three pink salmon. Pete said it was one of his most successful outings. I think it had something to do with the skipper! Pete prepared a delicious salmon dinner that evening.

I spent the rest of my time on the west coast going for long walks and having my morning coffee at the Pedder Bay marina.

After a week in paradise, I was heading for Northern Alberta. In 1978-79, I was the principal of a small, rural school in Whitelaw. The village was about to celebrate its 100 anniversary of incorporation and some of my former students had reached out to see if I might come up for the festivities. These students were 11- and 12-year-olds back then and many are now grandparents. Tempus fugit.

There was a lot of chatter in the media about a possible work stoppage at Air Canada. I was booked on that airline to go to Calgary and then Grande Prairie where I was to be picked up by a former student. I made it to Calgary and as I was waiting to board, I received a notification from AC that a strike was likely and anyone having flights booked in the next four days would have to decide what they were going to do. My return flight from the north to Halifax was on the 4^th day.

If the strike happened and there was a prolonged stoppage, I thought that getting out of the north would be a challenge. Thirty minutes before my flight boarded, I rushed down to Westjet to see what a ticket would cost if the AC strike went ahead. They were asking $1700 for a one-way flight from Grande Prairie and that was if I could get a ticket 4 days hence.

I went up to the Air Canada agent at my gate and asked if there was any way that they could get me home that day. A very pleasant agent was on the phone to a colleague and 15 minutes before getting on my flight to G.P., I pulled the plug when I secured a seat on the red eye that night.

I flew to Toronto overnight and boarded my flight to Halifax the next morning. Several Air Canada flights were already cancelled. A mechanical problem (they had to replace the front tire) had us on the tarmac for 2 hours. I had my fingers crossed that we would get in the air before a strike was called, which it was later that day. During that 2-hour hiatus, the attendants worked very hard trying to keep customers happy. One of them leaned into our aisle and whispered, “This is why we’re going on strike. We don’t get paid for these two hours.”

I was a pretty happy camper to get back home.

However, the story doesn’t end here.

To be continued.

The paint is almost dry!

Have a great weekend.

Posted on August 27, 2025 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

Travels to paradise

 

“All my bags are packed and I’m ready to go.”

Leaving on a Jet Plane – John Denver

An uber experience.

Once upon a time, the word “uber” denoted an outstanding or supreme example of a particular kind of person or thing.

When a car shows up outside your door at 3:17 a.m., Uber takes on a whole new meaning.

The summer is winding down. The back-to-school frenzy has started in earnest, and the Exhibition will be rolling into town shortly. The days are getting cooler but not too cool. However, I was at Costco last week and (I’m not lying), they had a big display of Christmas decorations. Christmas. Really? In the middle of August?

So, what did you do on your summer vacation? When we were children, a gazillion years ago, we routinely had to write an essay sometime in the first week back at school, chronicling our enormously exciting summer holidays.

I am going to channel my inner child and tell you all of the exciting things that happened to me during a visit with my son in Victoria- Metchosin, to be exact. If you enjoy watching someone else’s 1960’s home movies with their Super 8 film, or if you like watching paint dry, then read on.

The only people on this planet that I know who show up early for everything are my brothers and sisters. Let me add one more person – the Uber driver who took me to Stanfield airport a few weeks ago. I had booked the ride the previous night knowing that I had to be at the airport for a 5:15 a.m. flight. I asked to be picked up at 3:20 and had my alarm set for 3:15, just enough time to get dressed. My alarm went off at 3:15 and I saw a message that my ride would be arriving in 2 minutes. We departed at 3:17 and arrived at the airport 18 minutes later (I was staying at my sister’s house in Bedford).

I played “the old man with a broken arm” card at check-in and an agent had my boarding passes and luggage tag ready in mere minutes. He even took my suitcase to the baggage drop. There was no lineup at security and at 3:48, exactly 31 minutes after my alarm went off, I was at my departure gate. I plan to report this astonishing feat to Guiness.

The first flight to Toronto was uneventful.

The second flight was direct to Victoria.

We boarded the plane. I took my customary aisle seat (It’s easier to get to the washroom without having to do calisthenics, if you happen to get a window seat).

An older couple (they were likely my age!) approached Row 22. I got up to let the lady get into her seat next to the window. However, her hubby somehow managed to get the strap of his carry-on bag caught on the armrest of the seat directly in front of me. It took more than a few tries to extricate the strap with the assistance of a flight attendant. The fellow in the aisle seat across the aisle was a character. “Is everyone excited to be going to New Brunswick?” Several people scrambled to get their boarding passes. He was having a great laugh.

I grabbed my Grisham book and settled in for some courtroom drama.

Little did I know that a small drama was unfolding to my right. The man in the middle seat pulled out a crossword puzzle and a sudoku that he had obviously torn out of a newspaper. It was also obvious that this was not the original voyage for these puzzles. They were crumpled up as if he had been sitting on them on a flight from Hong Kong.

He grabbed his pen and started to work on the sudoku. We were at cruising speed somewhere over the Great Lakes when I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. My immediate reaction is that this old guy, like me, was a frequent flyer to the washroom. Not so. He had fallen asleep. I gave him a gentle nudge, and he was immediately back on track. Half an hour later, he once again landed on my shoulder. This time he was out cold. His wife was also getting some shut eye.

I started humming a few bars of Paul Anka’s classic “Put Your Head on My Shoulder”.

As his head nestled on my clavicle, I had this overpowering urge to gently remove the pen from his hand and finish the sudoku. Can you imagine his surprise waking up somewhere over the Rockies to find that he had been able to complete a puzzle while unconscious.

When he woke up, he needed to go to the washroom. After flying for over 50 years, I finally discovered the button underneath the armrest to my left to enable me to lift it, making his egress much simpler. He was gone for over 20 minutes, and his wife was quite concerned. I stood up and there her husband stood at the back of the plane waving to me. Turns out he had a bad back and needed to stand for a while.

We landed in lotus land five hours later.

TO BE CONTINUED.

Have a great weekend.

 

Posted on August 13, 2025 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

A day at the beach

 

“Summer breeze, makes me feel fine.”

Summer Breeze – Seals and Croft

What is perfection?

Is it scoring 100% on an exam?

Is it a hole in one in golf?

Is it scoring a 29 hand in cribbage?

In the world most of us inhabit, perfection is unattainable. We probably all know someone who is a self-prescribed perfectionist. These people are hard to miss and to be avoided at all costs. Striving for excellence is one thing by trying to be perfect at everything you do is a sure-fire way to lose friends.

A few weeks ago, I decided to get away from the heat in town and took a drive to my brother’s summer home twenty minutes away. We are in the middle of one of those summers where it is sunny, hot and humid just about every day, causing serious water shortages and fire bans across the province. Similar conditions persist in many parts of Canada and around the world. Climate change deniers are busy checking their empty wells.

A hot coffee is not the typical antidote to slake one’s thirst on a hot summer day, but this is what I was carrying in a small thermos along with a book. I arrived at the beach and there was a beautiful breeze blowing. I found a spot in the shade and sat comfortably in an Adirondak chair. Oh my, how things have changed. Fifty years ago, I would be lazing in a lawn chair, in the scorching sun, slathered in baby oil with a six-pack at the ready.

There was no one else at the cottage. Off in the distance, I could hear peals of laughter from young children. A few birds chattered in the trees but other than that, it was perfectly quiet. The gentle wind kept small, annoying insects and bugs at bay.

As I sat there, I thought, “This is perfection.”

It is rare that any of us ever find perfect peace and serenity but in this fleeting hour, I came as close to it as possible. The book was terrific and the coffee divine. At one point, I got up to stretch my legs to make sure that I could extricate myself from the deep chair when it was time to leave. The public beach about 500 yards away was crowded with families enjoying a magnificent summer afternoon. Just a few steps down the beach, a clutch of children were having great fun trying to navigate their paddle boards. A few smaller tots, were building sandcastles.

My mind drifted back and there I was, playing on that same beach as a child, practicing sand shots with a golf club as a teenager and  sitting around the fire singing and playing tunes as an adult. Ah those “Lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer”.

When I wasn’t at the beach as a youth, I was in all likelihood at the golf course. In other words, I lived my days in the sun. Obviously, we didn’t know anything about the depleting ozone layer and the harmful effects of long-term exposure to the sun. The result is that many of us make an annual pilgrimage to a plastic surgeon to have a few more potentially cancerous spots removed from our bodies.

Knowing what I know now, would I do anything different? Of course, but we haven’t mastered time travel. Do I have any regrets about this seemingly rash behaviour? Absolutely not.

Helen Reddy said it best in her great tune, I Am Woman:

“Whoa, yes I am wise,

But it’s wisdom born of pain,

Yes, I’ve paid the price,

But look how much I’ve gained.”

My childhood was idyllic and if I’m a bit scarred as a result of my sun-soaked summers, then so be it.

Perfection. Imperfections.

I’ll gladly take the imperfections.

Sandcastles don’t last forever either.

Have a great weekend.