A Tribute to Our Pets

I was sitting downstairs in “the dungeon”, not really working on much of anything — sorting some music, developing a couple of digital pictures and pretty much wasting time.  I saw a post come across my Facebook feed on Tweetdeck from someone I was in junior high school with — we’re talking 25 years ago or so.  Her dog, at the ripe age of nearly 16, had just died away. 

Even though I hadn’t seen or talked to her in many years I was struck with sadness.  Anyone who has owned an animal knows that feeling of emptiness that comes with the loss of a pet.  Those who have never bonded with a pet don’t understand — they often will try and offer condolences by saying “Well, it was only a dog.”  They think they are helping by putting things into perspective, but it comes across as callous. 

Pet owners “get it”.  We understand that pets are not filthy animals that happen to share our space.  They are a part of our families and a part of our lives.  They are there for us, good or bad.  Your dog doesn’t care if you had a bad day at work, or if you cursed out another driver on the commute home.  They just want to be with you and share your company.  They lift us when we are feeling down and just when you think things are going really well they crap on your carpet.  They give us balance and a place to turn where no one will pass judgement on you.  Not even the greatest spouse in the world can make that claim.

Our pets are unique.  They are the only members of the family whom we invite in knowing we expect to outlive them.  We know from the moment they step into our lives that we have started a journey together that will end badly for us — we will be the ones left behind to stare at the empty food bowl, the favourite toy which will not be played with again, the bed in the corner which will remain unslept in.  

We are forced to move on, to push past the pain.  Over time the pain subsides and the good memories flow to the surface.  We gather with our families and talk about the good times — picking out the puppy, bringing her home for the first time, that time when she [insert memory here].  Heck, there will come a day (hopefully many years from now) when I’ll look back with fondness on the day Tucker destroyed the remote control.  We’ll look at the photos, we’ll watch the home movies and we’ll smile and, in the end, that’s why we embark on the journey.

So, with that in mind, I salute Jenna — a dog I never had the pleasure of meeting.  Godspeed!

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Geocaching: In a Nutshell

It is a question I have been asked on more than one occasion:  “What is this Geocaching thing you do?”  At first glance it would appear to be quite simple to explain, but Geocaching is much like an onion — many, many layers of depth. 

The good news is that caching doesn’t need to be complicated.  You can get involved in a variety of ways and the really good news is that there is something for everyone when it comes to caching.   Whether you want to seek out caches on mountain tops or the parking lot of your local Wal-mart, there is a place for you in this hobby.

My Background

I had heard of this hobby called Geocaching back in 2001 or so.  It sounded interesting to me, but buying a GPSr wasn’t high on our list of priorities at the time.  In 2003 a coworker had been given a GPSr for his birthday and he demonstrated to me how he could hook it up to his laptop and then see his position updated in realtime on a map using Microsoft Streets and Trips.  I thought this was the most amazing thing I had seen and decided I wanted a GPSr for doing this sort of tracking when we went on vacations.

I figured there was no way Shirley would like the idea of spending that sort of money just for vacation travel, so I needed to hatch some sort of plan.  I thought back to this “Internet game” that people could play with GPS units.  I did some searching on the web before I finally found Geocaching.com.  I signed up for a free account and did some research.  I approached Shirley with the idea as follows:  “Hey, you know how you always want to go for walks but I’m not interested in walking unless I have a reason?  Well, if we make a modest investment in a GPS unit we could try this game called Geocaching.” 

Surprisingly, she went for it.  On December 15, 2003 we went looking for a cache that was located relatively close to our house.  It was hidden along the Bow River near a pathway we didn’t even know existed.  We got close, we looked around for a few minutes and suddenly I moved a couple of rocks and — sure enough — here was a plastic toolbox hidden there.  We opened it, signed the logbook and then went home to log the find on the Internet.  The rest is history, and now after more than six years and nearly 3000 cache finds we continue to hunt them whenever we get a chance.

Since then I have had the chance to introduce caching to a fair number of people, I’ve attended Geocaching events all over North America, and I’ve volunteered to help teach Geocaching with the Calgary Outdoor Centre.  I’ve made some great friends, greatly improved my level of fitness, seen places I never knew existed and created memories to last a lifetime.

Hooked on the idea yet?  Let’s take a systematic approach at what is involved and try and answer some questions.

What?

At it’s most basic level caching is simple.  A “geocache” needs to consist of nothing more than some sort of weather-proof container and a logbook.  People go out and hide these caches in all sorts of places and then, using their GPSr, they record the coordinates of the hiding place.  They go on the Internet to a caching website (Geocaching.com is the most popular, but there are others.) and list the coordinates and some details about the cache.  Other people come along, make a note of the coordinates and then use their own GPSr to navigate to the hiding spot and try to locate the cache.  If they find the cache, they sign the logbook to prove they were there and then they go back to the website to log their find online.  This typically consists of a short description of their experience in hunting the cache.

I say “try” to locate the cache, because it isn’t always simple.  Some caches are very easy to find and others are very tricky.  On Geocaching.com caches have a Difficulty rating which ranges from 1 Star to 5 Stars which describes how hard it is to find the cache itself.  1 Star means the cache is in plain sight or is in a fairly obvious location.  A 5-Star cache may take several visits and/or many hours to locate. 

Caches also vary in size.  There are caches which are smaller than the tip of your little finger and there are other caches which are the sizes of cars.  The typical cache is usually around the size of a Tupperware container used for holding sandwiches.  On the Geocaching.com site, one of the things that is normally listed is the cache size, from Micro (smaller than a 35mm film canister) to Large (5 gallon bucket or larger), with Small and Regular being the other choices.  Some cache hiders will not list the size because they want it to be a surprise.

There are also different “types” of caches.  A Traditional cache consists of a container hidden at the posted coordinates.  There are also Multi caches where you go to the coordinates, find a container that has the coordinates for the next container, and so on.  Multis can be very short with a couple of stages or they can cover locations miles and miles apart, sometimes even in different towns/cities.  There are also some caches that require you to solve a puzzle or crack a code before you can even get the coordinates!

All of these factors (size, camoflauge, type) play a factor in the Difficulty rating.  When you first start it is often a good idea to pick caches that are rated as 1 or 2 stars, especially if the kids are involved — you don’t want them to lose interest which can happen if you have trouble finding the caches.

Another frequently asked “What” question is “What do I find in a cache?”  Well, as mentioned, some caches are so small they don’t even have a pencil — you need to bring your own.  Other larger caches will have the logbook and (usually) something to write with.  They also may contain some trading items, which are typically small toys or trinkets.  Cachers refer to the cache contents as “swag”.  The rules with trading swag are simple:  If you want to take something you are supposed to leave something of equal or greater value in its place.  While some caches are stocked with more expensive items, you normally will find “dollar store” type items.  People may call it a “treasure hunt”, but you certainly won’t find gold and silver coins!

Who?

Just who does this caching thing?  The short answer is “Everyone!” 

Over the years I have met people of all age ranges, from small children caching with their parents to retirees.  Men, women, young, old.  People who are physically fit and people who are wheelchair bound.  As long as you can afford a GPSr (we cover that later) you can get in on the game.

Where?

Another simple question to answer:  Everywhere!

When we first started I thought “Oh, this probably only works in the States…there won’t be any caches in Canada.”  Well, after doing my first search on the Geocaching.com site I was amazed to learn that not only are there caches in Canada, but there was a cache not far from our house.  That was in 2003 and the game has grown exponentially since then.  With more than 1,000,000 active caches around the world, you would be hard-pressed to find a place without a cache nearby.

On the Geocaching.com website, caches are also rated on the Terrain.  Just like the Difficulty, the scale goes from 1 Star to 5 Stars.  The guidelines are basically as follows:

1 Star:  Accessible to everyone, including handicapped cachers in wheelchairs.

2 Star:  Good for cachers of all ages.  Children are OK.

3 Star:  You’re getting more serious now.  Could be steep sections or a longer walk.

4 Star:  Pretty serious hike.  You better be prepared for a strenuous undertaing.

5 Star:  You’re going to need specialized equipment to get there such as SCUBA gear.

Cache locations range from parking lots to mountain tops.  City parks to backwoods campsites.  However, there are some places where caches are not allowed, which is basically anywhere where they may attract unwanted attention.  It’s a sad state of affairs, but places which could be considered targets for terrorists are typically not allowed to have caches:  dams, bridges, airports, government buildings, schoolyards, railway tracks.

A website like Geocaching.com have very detailed guidelines about hiding caches.  Before you can hide a cache of your own you really need to read and understand all the limits of caching.  For example, caches cannot be buried.  Caches cannot be hidden within 161m of another cache.  Lots of rules, but for now worry about finding some and only worry about hiding your own cache after you gain some experience.

When?

Anytime you want!  As long as you can legally access the hiding area you can go find a cache.  Not only do some people prefer hunting for caches at night when there are less people around, but some caches are actually designed so they can only be found in the dark using a flashlight.

Caching is a year-round activity.  As long as you are dressed properly for the weather, there is no reason why you can’t cache in the dead of winter.  However, be warned, sometimes a cache which is really easy to find in the summer can get much harder to locate when it is under a layer of dead leaves in the Autumn or under three feet of snow in the Winter.

Why?

So, why do people participate in this crazy hobby?  I can’t answer why **you** will want to cache, but I can give you some examples of why other people do it. 

Some people are motivated by the numbers.  They want to find as many caches as they possibly can.  They are motivated by challenging themselves to find as many caches as quickly as they can.  Other people don’t care about how many caches they find.  They use it as an excuse to get out and be active.  And, active doesn’t have to mean climbing mountains either — it can be as simple as taking a bike ride to that park in your neighborhood you never felt the urge to visit before.  And, that’s another motivator for people — you can discover places and things right in your own neighborhood that you didn’t know existed.  Some people like caching in solitude and others use it as an activity the whole family can particiapate in.

My own motivations?  I’ve been to parks in Calgary that I never would have known about if not for caching.  We’ve gone on vacation with people who have been going to the same place for years and on our first trip we’re telling them about places they never heard of.  And, fitness is a big motivator for me.  The first cache we did was 600m from the parking lot and I remember thinking “There is no way I can walk that far.”  Now I can say I have hiked 16km for a single cache.  I’ve climbed to the top of mountain peaks and, most importantly, I can honestly say I’ve dropped 80 pounds thanks in large part to my caching activities. 

How?

OK, so if you’ve read this far there must be something that has piqued your interest.  So, how do you get started?

Well, the simple part is to go to Geocaching.com and sign up for an account.  Creating a basic account is free, all you need to do is think up a caching “handle” — the nickname you want to be known as on the site.  Mine is “DanOCan” (what a shock, eh?) and has become my de facto ID for most of my online activities.  There are some additional website features that you can only get if you become a paid member, but don’t worry about that right now.  Start simple and see if you think caching is something you want to stick with before you spend the money.  The good news is that even if you want to become a “Premium Member”, the cost is quite cheap — $30 US / year.

 

OK, so you have an account.  You’ve done some simple searches and determined where the caches around you are.  You may have even watched their “Getting Started” video and saved yourself all of this reading!

So, now you need a GPSr.  (The ‘r’ is for ‘receiver’.)  The next question is almost always “Which one?”

People cache with all sorts of devices.  From smartphones (like the iPhone) to handheld units to automotive units.  Each has pros and cons.

Smartphones?  If you already have one you can save yourself some up front money.  Apparently some of the new ones are good, but my experience with the iPhone 3G has been less than stellar.  The battery life is poor, the system is slow to update and under tree cover the reception fades quickly.  I use mine for getting the cache information and will hunt with it in a pinch, but it’s not my first choice.

Automotive units?  Again, if you already own one you can save some money up front, but they tend to have a lot of cons as well.  They typically don’t have a navigation mode that gives you a simple distance and an arrow to follow.  They aren’t rugged enough for outdoor use and they aren’t designed to fit comfortably in your hand.  There are people out there who use them (I have too when nothing else is around.) but again, not my first choice.

Handheld units are my personal choice.  The big issue here is which model?  Well, the answer to that depends on your budget.  Any GPSr can be used for caching.  But, do you want a color screen or is black and white OK?  Do you want a unit that can accept maps or are you happy caching with just a direction and a distance?  Do you want to be able to do “paperless caching” (storing all the cache details right in the GPSr) or are you happy with printing out the details before you leave the house?  Prices will range from $100 – $600 depending on features.

I usually suggest people try and borrow a unit from someone if they can.  This gives you a chance to see if caching is something that is going to be of interest to you and your family before you sink money into it. 

Secondhand units are often a good choice as well.  Many cachers are “techie types” and upgrade all the time.  Heck, I’m on my fourth unit in just over six years!  (I tend to be hard on my gear!) 

Before purchasing any unit I would go to a store that will let you hold the various models.  Some people prefer configurations with buttons on the top, others on the bottom, or even touchscreens.  Until you hold the unit in your hand it is hard to know what you are going to like.

And, if all else fails, look for a Geocaching event in your area.  In areas with an active caching community it isn’t unusal for cachers to get together on a regular basis.  These events are listed on the Geocaching.com website as “Event” caches.  In general cachers are a very friendly bunch and love to discuss their hobby (heck, look at this post!).  You’ll meet all sorts of people, many of whom will have their GPSr units with them so you can see a lot of models all at one time and talk to people with experience in using them.  Many events take place in bars or restaurants (cachers love to eat!) so you can often find the event without a GPSr and, worst case scenario, have a drink or two while you learn.

Conclusion

Wow.  That’s a lot of words to talk about caching.  And, I’ve just barely scratched the surface of what the hobby can involve.  Feel free to ask me questions, I’ll try and post answers here so others can benefit too. 

 

 

 

 

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Ah, it’s like the first time you fall in love.

I remember the night we bought my first car.  My dad and I had been looking at a number of cars over a period of several months but none had met his specific criteria for an acceptable vehicle for me.  Looking back I think he was bound and determined to make sure I got the un-coolest car in Southern Alberta in order to keep the women away from me.  (He need not have worried, I was doing fine on my own in that department!)

We responded to a classified ad that had been posted in the newspaper – that’s how it was done in the days before the Internet.  The ad listed a 1974 AMC Hornet for $750 – FIRM.  Well, the price was right anyway.  I remember pulling up to a house just off Stafford Drive in north Lethbridge and I saw the car parked in the driveway.  She was an ugly green colour with red primer spots on the back fender.  However, she met my first criteria in that she only had two doors.  (Someone had told me that four door cars were only for old married dudes and if you ever wanted to become an old married dude you needed a car with just two doors.)

We poked around under the hood.  Well, he poked around under the hood while I stood by nodding as if I knew what I was looking for.  We started it up and it turned over right away without belching smoke.  Criteria #2 had been met for me.

800px-1975_AMC_Hornet_Dash

Dashboard of a 1975 AMC Hornet.  This brings back a ton of memories even if this is from a blue car.  Licensed under Creative Commons.

After a few minutes my dad looked over at me and gave me a silent look I hadn’t seen before.  I was mostly accustomed to seeing him give me a look somewhere between indigestion and horror, something that said “Let’s get outta here!”.  This time the look was more of an understanding nod.  It was time.  I nodded back, trying not to tip our hand and ruin the negotiation process I knew was about to begin.

Turns out it wasn’t much of a negotiation.  “So, your ad says “’firm’, but will you take $550?”

The fella selling the car practically jumped out of his skin.  “Deal!”   With that I was a car owner.

Well, I was “sort of” a car owner.  We had no plates and no insurance.  We also didn’t have a problem.  My dad said simply:  “I’ll drive it home tonight.  You follow behind in my truck.  Just stick close enough so a cop doesn’t get between us and see the plate is missing.”

That summer night in 1989 my life really began…

Captain Jean-Luc PicardThe first vessel that I served on as captain was called Stargazer. It was an overworked, underpowered vessel, always on the verge of flying apart at the seams. In every measurable sense, my Enterprise is far superior. But there are times when I would give almost anything… to command the Stargazer again.
Scotty:  Ah, it’s like the first time you fall in love. You don’t ever love a woman quite like that again. Well, to the Enterprise, and the Stargazer – old girlfriends we’ll never meet again.

Star Trek:  The Next Generation, from the episode “Relics” (1992)

After a couple of days we had plates and insurance sorted out.  I could actually take it off the driveway (and discover the oil stain which is probably still on the concrete in front of our old house) and go cruisin’.  OK, so in Coaldale “cruising” is a relative term.  What it really meant was I could drive down to the Mac’s for a Slurpee.  Regardless, I turned the corner onto 13th Street and turned on the radio, a single speaker AM radio no less.  The window down, my arm resting outside, I was getting my first taste of true freedom. 

That freedom lasted until I approached Main Street and the four-way stop.  I stepped on the brakes.  I felt a little bit of a grab but not much in the way of deceleration.  Yep, I rolled right through that intersection – it appears my dad failed to mention that the car did not have power brakes!  I quickly learned I would need to plan my stops better if I was going to live to enjoy my newly found freedom.

P1

This white Hornet is the right style and year but in MUCH better shape than mine was.

That car was symbolic of my senior year in high school, in every way.  We would go to hockey games, race it down the jail road (top speed was around 100MPH – it was hard too tell because it vibrated so badly once you got over 90), and do coffee runs before Social Studies class would begin.  Lunch runs to Lethbridge, shooting pool during our spares – it was all enabled by that car.  I probably would have used it for Grad had my mother not stepped in — “There is no way you are taking your date to Grad in that car.” she warned me before offering me the use of her car.

I loved that car.

That first love was a fleeting one, much like a summer crush you have at summer camp.  I would drive the car for about a year or so before selling it when I moved away and went to university.  Every once in awhile someone would spot it somewhere, often parked at the sugar factory in Taber.  I don’t remember the last time I saw her, but I knew she would always be the standard to which all other cars I own would be compared.

My dad didn’t make it long enough to see how much that car meant to me as he would die just a few short months later.  All the plans I had made about how he was going to teach me mechanics never came to fruition.  For awhile I still had his garage in the back of our house in Coaldale, I had all of his tools, I even had the ability to charge things at Graham’s Garage – but I didn’t have him nor those moments on the driveway when I would frustrate him to no end when I couldn’t find the tool he wanted me to fetch.

We may tie memories to physical things like a car, but in the end it isn’t the hunk of metal that brings meaning to those experiences, it is the people we share them with.  My dad, my friends who were there riding around in that ole green Hornet – those are the things that matter and the things that will last as long as we remember them.

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It Was Twenty Years Ago Today…

It started out as a boyhood dream…

On a cold winter’s night sometime during the 1982-83 hockey season I was sitting in front of a small black and white TV at my grandmother’s house and I was rotating the dial when I came across a hockey game in progress.  Up until that time most of my hockey viewing had been done at the Lethbridge Sportsplex, watching the Lethbridge Broncos of the WHL do battle in the WHL.

One of the teams playing that night was a team wearing a penguin on their jerseys.  I had always loved penguins (the birds) so I couldn’t imagine ever cheering for another team.  At that moment I had become a fan of the Pittsburgh Penguins.

It didn’t matter to me that this team was at the bottom of the standings.  It didn’t bother me that the team had a history of losing and hadn’t really ever experienced any success.  I didn’t care that they had been considered a “cursed” franchise, stemming from the deaths of their original mascot “Penguin Pete” in 1968 and promising rookie Michel Briere in 1970.  No, this was my team and nothing would change that.

We had to wait a lot of years before tasting playoff success together.  We got our chance in the 1989 playoffs and even won the opening round series, manhandling the hated New York Rangers in four straight games.  The second round would be a much tougher battle, this time against the hated (notice a trend here?) Philadelphia Flyers.

That year we went to a seventh game and the Flyers started their backup goalie Ken Wregget.  Yes, my boyhood hero who had backstopped some amazing Lethbridge Bronco teams in the early 80’s was all that stood between my team and a trip to the conference final.  It wasn’t meant to be, however — Kenny played a terrific game and sent my beloved Penguins home.

Playoff success would be put on the backburner the following season.  Mario Lemieux‘s back would act up on him and limit his playing time and the team would end up barely missing the playoffs in 89-90.  The highlight of that season for me came on December 16 when I got to attend my first ever NHL game and I watched the Penguins — my Penguins — lose to the defending Stanley Cup champions, the Calgary Flames.

The next season though?  Oh, the next season was a different story…

That playoff run could have ended early if not for two huge plays.  The first was rookie Jaromir Jagr’s first ever playoff goal scored in OT of Game 2 to even the series.

(How odd is it to see someone besides Martin Brodeur playing goal for the Devils?  Yes, kids, Marty wouldn’t make his first appearance in the New Jersey crease until the following season — that’s how long ago this was!)

The second big play would come in Game 6.  Down 3-2 in the series, starting goalie Tom Barrasso was injured and backup goalie Frank Pietrangelo was called upon to make his first ever NHL playoff game appearance.  All Penguins fans worth their salt simply call it “The Save”…

Stick that one in your pipe and smoke it, “History Will Be Made” series of commercials…

The second round would be an anti-climatic 4-1 win over Washington, which set up a clash against Boston, the team which seemed to exist purely to lose to Edmonton in the Stanley Cup Finals.

The Boston series will forever be remembered for the knee-on-knee hit between Ulf Samuelsson and Cam Neely and the war it unleashed. 

In the end the Penguins would prevail and head on to their first ever Stanley Cup Final.

The Finals would take place against the Minnesota North Stars — yes, once again kids, that shows how long ago this was.  Long before Dallas had a hockey team and the Wild would come to Minnesota they actually had a franchise!

Game 2 of that series featured one of the defining moments in Penguins history.  It was the offensive counterpart to “The Save” and is commonly known as “Lemieux’s Goal”…

At that moment, every Penguins fan knew the Cup was ours.  Never mind we would lose Game 3 and trail in the series 2-1, we all knew that no one was going to stop Super Mario once he got this close to his first Stanley Cup.  You can bet that Jon Casey and Shawn Chambers knew it too.

It would take six games, but the final game was an 8-0 laugher.  Mario had his Cup and my near decade long suffering as a Penguins fan came to an end. 

I was living in Vauxhall at the time, and I remember I celebrated the win by driving into Lethbridge to go to Burger King.  I was driving a 1980 Toyota pickup that had a bad habit of overheating, and I remember having to stop at an irrigation canal somwhere around Chin or Tempest to pour more water into the radiator to complete the trip.  I remember how it all seemed so surreal, so unlikely.  Stanley Cup.  Pittsburgh.  Wow! 

It’s good that we can never know the future, for it allows us to revel and celebrate in the moment without every worrying about what is to come.  For, while there would be another Stanley Cup the following season, the future would not be that bright for this group that came together to create magic in 1991.

Bob Johnson, the beloved coach, would not even get to enjoy the entire summer before being diagnosed with brain cancer.  Five months after that magical night in Minnesota he would be gone forever.

Mario Lemieux would get his own cancer diagnosis less than two years later, in January of ’93.  While he would survive and add another four 100+ point seasons to his resume, he never really had a chance to perform at such a high level again for an entire season.  He would play just 64 games in 1991-92, 60 games in 92-93, and just 22 games in 93-94 before deciding to sit out the entire 94-95 season.

The Minnesota franchise would move to Dallas in 1993 and the Met Center, the building where the Penguins won that first ever Stanley Cup would be demolished a year later. 

It started out as the dream of a barely ten-year-old boy in front of his grandmother’s TV and it would come true one magical night in Minnesota.  May 25, 1991 — twenty years ago today…

http://www.primepittsburgh.com/sports/phsch.htm

 

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A Lesson In Being Prepared

Sometimes lessons learned early are forgotten until something serves as a stark reminder of what we once knew.  I have always prided myself on being prepared, on looking at all the reasonable possibilities and being ready to deal with whichever one comes my way.  This past weekend I was issued one of those stark reminders when a simple hiking trip took a turn for the worse…

It was just supposed to be a quick hike.  The information I had showed the hike would be just over 1km from the trailhead to the top of an unnamed hill in Kananaskis Country.  The total elevation gain was under 250m and, while there was no defined trail and the going was expected to be rough, I figured it would take me less than an hour round trip.

That’s why, on a sunny Saturday morning, I parked my car just off to the side of Highway 68 and set off with my dog but little else.  I had checked for cell coverage and found none so I left my phone in the car.  I was carrying my camera and GPSr, but opted not to bring my backpack.  After all, I didn’t need all that extra weight for what was going to be a simple hike.  Likewise I chose to not bring my trekking poles, surmising they would be more of a hindrance than benefit when I got into the deadfall.

P1000677

Moose Mountain – I was much better prepared the day I ascended it

I was just 400m from the top of the hill when I climbed over a fallen tree.  It is the exact same manoeuvre I have done hundreds, perhaps thousands, of times while hiking.  I stepped up onto the trunk, found my balance point and dropped down to the other side.  This time, unlike all the other times, something went wrong.  The grass and plants had obscured a small hole on the other side of the trunk.  As my right ankle hit the side of the hole I heard a loud pop and I went down hard.

I lay there for several minutes trying to gather my bearings.  The pain in my ankle was intense and I feared it was broken.  I was also concerned I would not be able to put any weight on it.  I started gathering my thoughts by taking stock of my situation.  I realized I had violated the two most important rules of safe hiking:

– No one knew where I was.  I had said I was going to the Sibbald Flats area, but that covers an awful lot of ground.  Sure, if Search and Rescue came looking for me they would easily find my car, but with no defined trails how would they know which way I had gone?

– I had no supplies.  No food.  No water.  No first aid kit.  No emergency blanket.  If I was going to be there for awhile I was going to get very uncomfortable very quickly.

I did have my camera.  It has a small mirror on the back so I figured if worse came to worst I could always use it as a signalling device.  However, that would mean someone would need to be looking for me and, since no one knew when I was expecting to be back (remember how I said I broke all the rules?) that would be many hours away.

No, I knew if I was going to get out of there I would need to do it myself.  Using the trunk for leverage I pulled myself to my feet and gingerly tested my ankle.  It hurt, but it seemed to hold my weight.  There was something positive to hang my hat on!

There were only two choices – up or down.  I opted to continue upwards, my reasoning being it would be easier to attract help from a high point instead of a low point.  I also knew going upwards would be moving me closer to the road.

I actually made it to the top without too many problems.  Just as I reached the top my ankle gave way and I went down a second time.  I managed to locate a branch that was the right size and shape to use as a bit of a crutch which helped a bit.  I decided to give up my advantageous high ground and go for the car.

Instead of taking the longer but gentler slope down the backside of the hill where I came up, I opted to descend the much steeper and rockier front slope.  The topographical map in my GPSr seemed to indicate it was do-able and – big plus here – the rockier surface meant there was much less deadfall to deal with at the higher elevation.  I expected the lower elevation was sheltered in the valley so I might not have much deadfall to deal with at all.  It also was a direct line to the road and civilization.

I managed to slip and slide my way down the rocks and finally into the trees.  The direct approach was only about 500m to the road and, while it took me awhile to cover that distance, I thought I made pretty good progress.  There was very little deadfall which meant I could limit the strain on my ankle.  I emerged onto the gravel road just 200m from my car and from there it was a simple matter of driving home.

Sometimes it’s better to be lucky than good.

Over the weekend I had the ankle x-rayed and they found two small bone chips – one was fairly worn and rounded which the doctor believes was from a previous ankle injury.  The second one was smaller, not being detected by the radiologist until a day later.  The recovery process is basically “brace it, ice it, rest it and see us again in a week.”

Sometimes we get complacent when things seem too simple.  I guess there is a lesson here for all of us. 

“It’s not until you get back to nature that you realize that everything is out to get you. So my father always told me to respect nature, because it has no respect for you.” – Dana Scully, The X-Files

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