On the Road Again 2012 #1

It has been a strange, extraordinarily wonderful and a somewhat long nine days. During that time I went from Sudbury to Winnipeg (by train), then to Edmonton, Peace river, High Level and then Yellowknife via hitchhiking. Two days later I headed south to Edmonton, Jasper, Vancouver and finally to Duncan BC. I had planned to do the blog notes as I went along but unfortunately I broke the glass on the tablet on my first day. So I am eight days behind schedule. I will be doing notes on each leg of my journey and like always I will struggle with which tense to write in...... my apologies to all for my tendency to wander back and forth from the present to the past ( and on occasion) to the future

I have a pile of notes about the train trip - unfortunately they are are my tablet. If I can get it working again - I will post them later.

On the Road Again 2012 #T-4

I realized last night as I was trying to get back to sleep that I am nervous, anxious, apprehensive or perhaps even a wee bit scared of this trip. Perhaps I am always a little bit nervous before I take that first step out on the road but this time it feels a little bit more than that. I suspect that I have got a bit lazy the past few years. The trip out west has been predictable and all things considered, pretty easy. As I have said to so many people - I know the corners I will stand on, the curves of the road and I even know the spots to sleep – whether be a cheap hotel or soft bit of grass. But this time I am going in a different direction. Just after Portage I will be heading north along the Yellowhead highway. 

The fact is that I don’t know much about where I am going.  Oh I have a map but maps do not prepare one what will happen. Where will I sleep? Will I find a good place or will I get stuck in some dingy gas station overnight? What is the natural flow of traffic? Will there be lots of short rides or will I get a ride to Saskatoon and then another to Edmonton? Will I find decent food and more importantly enough water or will I feel hungry and dehydrated for much of my trip? A frequent reader of this blog could legitimately suggest that in the past I have suggested that this lack of knowing was part of the attraction of hitchhiking. And they would be right to remind me of that truth. 

But the reality is that in spite of the excitement and the incredible high I get from getting a ride – at least part of the time – I am, if not scared to death, at least aware of all of the bad things that can happen. I worry about where I am going to sleep that night and I always worry about having enough water. I have been doing this for awhile and one would think that either the charm or the anxiety would be reduced. But perhaps it is like public speaking or meeting a new class. If one gets so blasé about it that one stops being nervous- it is probably time to stop doing it.

However,  in spite of this annual ritual of internal critiquing as to why a 63 year old man would chose to travel this way, I know that as soon as I get on that train all those ties that bind me to this sedentary life, to this persona whose costume has never quite fit -I will be once again free. And surely that is worth a bit of anxiety.

On the Road Again (almost) 2012 #2

This time next week (Wednesday) I will be well on my way to Winnipeg. I was going to leave earlier than that but there was a bit of a minor snag including the fact that there are only three trains heading west each week so missing the Sunday one meant that I have to wait until Wednesday.

This time last year I was on my way. It feels as if it has been a long time since I stopped teaching.I have been ready to go for a long time. I am not a patient man and need/want to get out on the road. On the other hand I am more than grateful that I am not on the road when it is this hot. It makes staying hydrated very difficult.

I was packed a week ago. It is hard to stay packed. I only have so many shirts or underwear so I keep on needing the stuff that is either in my pack or the box that I will mail to myself next week – which means that I have stuff somewhat scattered throughout my apartment.. Laundry is on Saturday. Once my stuff is washed, it will go into the pack or box and that will be it.

Packing is an interesting process. Every fall I am determined to lighten my load for the following year. So this year I have a flashlight that is lighter, but then I have bought a keyboard for my tablet that is a bit heavier than the original flashlight, two years ago I bought a very light bevy sack and  last year a tiny stove, but the pants I bought this year are heavier and bulkier than the ones I had 3 years ago (they no longer make the other ones). I could give numerous examples where I have cut back on weight on some items only to have the overall weight increased in other items.

However weight, while it is pretty important, is not the only consideration. I think size is greatly underappreciated in terms of getting a ride. While it is purely subjective, I think that one of the reasons why I have had some luck in the past two years in terms of getting relatively quick rides is that my pack looks small. There have been times when the pack almost towered over my head – no one had room for me and the pack. the pack looks smaller now and perhaps it is not as intimidating to the drivers of small cars.

Or perhaps I get rides ‘cause they like my hat

On (almost) on the Road Again 2012

I am packed!!!! Well not completely but as soon my laundry is dry – I could leave. Signs are made (including an extra long so that the words “Yellowknife” and “Edmonton” are large enough to be seen), sleeping bag and pad are rolled up, bivy tent, water filter and mini stove are ready to go and the assorted paraphernalia that I travel with are in their water proof bags.  The only things I need to buy are a new map, a small note book and a box of granola bars. Like I said - I could be gone in an hour.

Actually I am not leaving until a week this Saturday – but I thought I should practice getting ready.  Can you tell that I am getting excited? The house is littered with unspun wool - I am ignoring the 7 fleeces that are not even washed - weaving just off the loom that needs finishing and camping gear.  It is getting hard to find a place to sit down.

Still have piles of stuff to do around here including finishing that weaving, going to the dentist for a final fitting of my night mouth guard and figuring out what I should mail west for when I get there. This is a bit tricky as (1) the weather out west has been less than summery (just remembered I had forgotten to pack my rain jacket) and (2) if I am going to spend 3-4 days in Yellowknife – will I need more clothes? Naw…. 2 pairs of pants, socks, underwear, 2 t-shirts and a short and a long sleeve shirt will be fine. I will just wash my clothes in the bathroom sink. (For anyone who cares….. I wear one set of everything and therefore only have one set to change into.)

Yellowknife is going to be interesting as it would appear as if there are no cheap accommodations. I am sure there are campgrounds but they all look to be outside of town and I don’t have a tent. I don’t think that I will able to afford more than a few nights at some motel. Still I am really looking forward to seeing the sun out way past my bedtime and perhaps some wildlife. I have always been fascinated by the name “Great Slave Lake” and it will be neat just to see it. I am a wee bit nervous… it is a long way to travel almost 3,000 Km from Winnipeg to Yellowknife, (I am taking the train to Winnipeg- I am tired of Northern Ontario) and then a further 2,500 Km to Duncan. I have never hitchhiked that far before, It might be interesting.

Weaving

I want to be a weaver/spinner. I want to know if I have the self-discipline to do it full time. Could I work at it 40-50 hours a week and make enough product to support myself? Am I a good enough weaver/spinner so that what I produce, people will want? I think I need to find out. Last November I decided to find out, or at least to start the process of finding out. The next few blogs will talk about how successful my attempts to be more productive have been. Myy target for the winter semester was to produce nine 31inch x 40inch  throw rugs.

In the late fall I purchased five raw fleeces. That is a lot of wool. The fleeces are fresh from the farm and are incredibly dirty with clumps of mud and manure almost welded to the low hanging parts of the fleece. Even if one soaks these clumps in hot soapy water for 24 hours, the substance may not soften. As well depending upon where that particular sheep has wandered, the fleece may contained well embedded into the fibers a variety of seeds, twigs, burrs and unidentified vegetable matter.  Above all else the fleece is greasy. While various hand lotion advertisements may tell you about the advantages of natural lanolin, the fact of the matter is that it is sticky, gunky and on a raw fleece, dirty. If you play with a fleece for an hour, your hands are not soften – they are just sticky and dirty.

But the fleeces are also beautiful. They have this luxurious soft golden glow that makes me ache to play with it, to wash, card, dye, spin and weave with it. I sometimes wish there was a way of keeping that soft colour, but much of it disappears with washing.

The fleeces also smell which is why they are stored in garbage bags in some plastic bins out on my little balcony.

I buy my wool from Tom who lives out on the fourth concession. He is an interesting man. He is a professor of geography at Trent University. He is an environmentalist and has done much to create a culture of sustainability on that campus. He also has a rather eclectic flock of rare and perhaps even endangered domesticated fowl. Wandering around his house are varieties of turkeys and ducks that use to be common in the barnyards of settlers but are no longer used in commercial enterprises. Tom has for example these incredibly beautiful white turkeys. What makes them unique is that most turkeys can not breed naturally. (They have been breed to have such large chests that it is not possible for …use your imagination) These turkeys can breed naturally. When I saw the Tom turkey with all of his feathers arrayed it truly was a magnificent sight.

Of course, for my purposes, what Tom has that I want is a flock of Cotswold sheep. Cotswold are one of the original breeds of England. It was this breed that allowed Britain to become the world’s leading producer and distributer of woolen cloth. It was this breed of sheep that for generations drove much of Britain’s economic growth. They were equally as popular and successful in North America. According to an internet site (http://museum.gov.ns.ca/rfm/en/home/whattoseedo/animals/sheep.aspx) by the end of the last century there were 75,000 purebred Cotswold sheep in the Americas. However by the 1980s there were approximately only 35 ewes in Canada. People no longer raising sheep primarily to produce wool, but to produce meat.

 I first used a Cotswold fleece when I was living in Victoria. One of the professors in the Sociology department had some fleeces that she didn’t want. She gave me a few fleeces to play with. She had got her breeding stock from Tom who I didn't meet until I came back to Ontario. My life is full of those strange inter-connections.

 I think Tom would admit that he does not worry about the fleeces as much as perhaps he could. Farmers who are in the business of producing sheep that have great fleeces spend a lot of time making sure that their fields are clear of briars etc. Some even keep the blankets or coats on their sheep all year around so that their wool doesn’t get affected by the sun on by whatever is in the fields. Their fleeces, while they are less work, are four to five times more expensive. Tom's fleeces are very reasonable, but their is a bit more work to them and a lot more waste.

The first step is to lay out the fleece and see what I have purchased. I use an old sheet The darkest wool of the left side of the fleece as shown in the above picture is probably so dirty that I just threw those sections away.

The next step is washing.....

I don’t like to complain….

I don’t like to complain…. Well actually I suppose I do on occasion complain a fair amount. I, like most Canadians, like to complain about the weather. But of course Canadians are not unique in the area. Yesterday while I was shopping someone said to me “This is Canada – if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes and it will change”. I had always thought that an uniquely Canadian comment until last year in Washington State, I heard someone say exactly the same thing- “This is Washington – if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes and it will change.” So I guess all humans complain about the weather. But I am not sure if commenting about the weather is really complaining.

I also, as the occasional reader will know, complain every once in a while about our politicians. Lord knows there is a lot to complain about. In fact I think I am surprisingly reserved in my comments. Like talking about the weather, complaining about our, at best, seemingly incompetent politicians would seem to be our civic duty. But generally I really don’t complain a lot about my personal life – but today I will.

I have had every tooth in my head filled not once but twice. There are a few that have been repaired at least three times. The teeth were first filled over a the years by a number of dentist, most of whom seem to take great delight in excavating as much as they possible could from the center of my teeth and then filling the hole with metal fillings. As a consequence, I had very little original enamel left. So the teeth broke, got repaired and the broke again. My present dentist decided a few years ago that all of my teeth needed to be rebuilt from the ground up. I had the last tooth done about a year ago in a six hour session. I knew I need to get them crowned but I thought I had a year or two before problems started to arise.

WRONG!!! A month ago I developed some problems and needed to get a root canal done and two crowns installed. On the weekend I developed “some soreness” on the other side. I was told yesterday that I had an abscess and will need another root canal, and then have to go through the process of getting crowns for three more teeth. When I told the receptionist and then the dentist that I just wanted a whole new head – they thought I was joking…. I am not. I am tired of not only being “uncomfortable” because my at any given time at least on tooth hurts, I am also tired of dreading going to the dentist. While he is a great dentist and very solicitous about any discomfort, I am really getting tired of contributing to his grandchildren’s’ university fund (I have already paid for his kids to go to six years of post secondary education).

Perhaps this will be my last visit for a while but there is something wrong when I see my dentist, within a eight week period, almost more times than I have seen my grandkids in a 12 month period. So I am complaining!!

Titanic - what is all the fuss about

I must confess I don’t understand all of the fuss about the Titanic. I, like most Canadians have no direct ties to that disaster. Or at least I don’t think I do. Thirty odd years ago, my grandmother in one of her apparent lucid moments the summer before she died, told me that she had been on a ship that had rescued survivors when the Titanic sank. The topic came up in our conversation one day because she asked me to mail a letter to the Toronto Star. I had asked why she was writing to the Star and she responded by saying that she had been travelling from England and her ship had picked up some survivors. I never asked her what the name of her ship was, which is a pity because I have never been able to confirm her story. It seems far fetched and to the best of my knowledge it is not something that she talked about to a lot of people. Regardless of whether I have a tenuous connection to the sinking of the Titanic or not, I still do not understand what all the excitement is about.

I was listening to some news program the other day which provided a partial explanation for why so many people talk about the Titanic. It was suggest that it is now one of this culture’s points of reference. Some of the language (“going down with the ship” or “rearranging the deckchairs”) related to the story are now used to explain other events or at least to act as a form of short hand. Northrop Frye made the argument that 50 years ago almost all of our cultural references were related to the Bible. Everyone understood such statements as “walking on water” or perhaps even “road to Damascus”. That is no longer true. Our culture needs therefore to create other events that we can use as reference points. Hence the excitement over the Titanic.

This is not a complaint or a wish that we should go back to the good old days – I have never been convinced that those days were that good. But it is comment on society and its changing values and perspectives. If people were really interested in the class system of Britain that contributed to the disaster that would be perhaps useful place to start a discussion. I fear however that far too many people are drawing their knowledge from a Hollywood love story. One that could never have happened as my grandmother cross the ocean almost a century ago.