Tudor Robins's Blog, page 13

Half of 18K

Eighteen kilometres is what was on my training schedule for today and so I had to figure out how far 9K was so I could run there and turn around and run back.

Creative Commons image “Chateau Laurier by the Ottawa Locks” taken by Viola Ng.

Turns out this is 9K from my house. Nine. Kilometres.

I mean, I always knew we lived close to downtown Ottawa. I always knew Parliament Hill was nearby. But 9K – that’s pretty cool.

I realize there are Canadians who will never make it to our capital, to the Peace Tower, to the iconic spot pictured above, and I just get to roll out of bed at 6:20, tie on my running shoes, jog 100 or 200 metres to the Ottawa River, run east for 50 minutes and, voila, there I am.

Pretty amazing.

Also pretty amazing that for the entire way there I pretty much had the city to myself – the Ottawa River pathway, anyway. I just ran along the river with birds signing and the sun rising and it was me, alone with my thoughts.

And, add to that, I was running downtown, alone, while the streetlights were still on and I felt – and was – perfectly safe.

It’s a good, good life we live here in our country, and I am a lucky, lucky person.

Time to share that luck, methinks. I always try to do as much as I can, but maybe it’s time to try a little more.

My Ontario …

I was born in Ontario. I grew up here, got my first degree here, have mostly worked here, and live here now.

There’s this thing many other provinces seem to have, that Ontario maybe doesn’t. This instant identity. Living right next door to Quebec, I mean, it’s pretty obvious when you’re there. The French is a big clue.

And when I’ve spent time in Alberta, and BC – very different, but very distinct vibes. And I earned my second university degree in Halifax. The Maritimes, now there’s a place with an identity. I went to school with a bunch of Newfoundlanders … don’t even get me started.

But Ontario … I think some people from other provinces maybe think it’s a bit bland. Maybe, for a long time, I didn’t really feel like I was a proud Ontarian. Like this was my home province and it mattered.

That’s changed recently.

I really, really love Ontario. I really, really love Eastern Ontario. My books are set in Eastern Ontario, and my readers tell me they like it, too, so there must be something to this part of this great province.

This post was originally going to be about our  weekend spent camping but, looking at the photos, I thought “This is my Ontario.” We did all this stuff just an hour from our house. This is a cool province.

Let me show you what I mean:

We stayed at Murphys Point Provincial Park which is, after staying at many beautiful Ontario Provincial Parks, our favourite. This is the canopy over our preferred campsite.

Morning sunlight in an Ontario forest.

The view on the morning visit to the Comfort Station … not too shabby.

We went for a hike without even leaving the park boundaries. It took us along the shores of Big Rideau Lake. This is not one of the famous Great Lakes, and Murphys Point is not a particularly well-known park, but look at what we saw on a short 5K walk:

Approaching a natural beach near the beginning of our hike.

A closer view of the Big Rideau.

And here it is – big water, big skies.

The beach really was so pretty.

With some fairly iconic Ontario scenery.

Love this view.

And this is why a natural beach is exciting – because it’s mostly Canadian Shield around the lake, with primarily rocky shores.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t include my fawn picture, although we see so many deer, they’re starting to feel as common as squirrels to us!

After a morning of cooking on the open fire, and hiking through the Canadian Shield, we drove a few kilometres up the road to the very sweet town of Perth.

This is also Ontario:

Buildings like this are a dime a dozen in Perth. We really wanted to eat at this restaurant, but we had a cooler full of food at the campsite.

Same restaurant, view of the canal-side patio.

And, of course, the moment that makes a camping trip worthwhile … anyone who’s camped at an Ontario Provincial Park will recognize the fire pit / grill. In fact, we were saying they should sell them – this would be perfect for the cottage!

End of day.

The above represents just a tiny, small part of what Ontario has to offer. Happy to be an Ontarian!

Dump! #twoweeksonwolfeisland

I think “dump” is not actually a politically correct term, but that’s what we call it!

So, this sounds weird, but one of the highlights of spending time on Wolfe Island is dumping our own garbage. And you know, possibly also weird, but in my opinion, as important as it is to know where your food comes from, is to know where your garbage goes.

A trip to the dump makes this very clear. You can see how deep the hole in the ground is, and you can see how many other black garbage bags are in there, and you can see it filling up.

You can also see everybody else bringing their stuff into the dump / recycling centre and see how much is being diverted into plastic / cans, glass, cardboard / paper and, more recently, compost – like the green bin system in Ottawa. You can see how it does make a difference, and how much more would be going into the ground if not for the other stuff.

This is also the home of the Wolfe Island Mall. Anybody who visits a rural dump is probably familiar with this practice of people putting aside things that are possibly nice, but not needed anymore. You can find some cool stuff at the W.I. Mall.

One summer day, when we were leaving the island, we decided to drive into the village and park our car in the ferry line while we had lunch. My parents said they’d come in and meet us for lunch as well – they just had to go to the dump first.

By the time we manoeuvered into line and were getting out of the car, my parents’ truck was appearing in the distance. They drove by us, honking their horn, and leaning out of the back of the truck, still streaming tinsel, was a six-foot artificial Christmas tree.

Free from the Wolfe Island Mall.

But the very best thing about the dump? This sign:

I cannot begin to tell you the amount of hilarity there has been in our house over the years about the possibility of losing dumping privileges. I never leave for the dump without one of my boys yelling, “Don’t lose your dumping privileges! Where would you dump?” Oh lord. Life with boys …

 

Cousins #twoweeksonwolfeisland

So, this was really the reason for the two weeks on Wolfe Island. To make sure we were here while my nieces were here.

I’m sure those of you who have cousins, will agree, there’s just something special about them … and, unfortunately, while I grew up with a heap of cousins within a four-hour drive of me, my kids’ cousins are now in Wales and British Columbia.

You might wonder if an 11- and 13-year-old boy really want to spend time with six- and seven-year-old girls?

Yes …

When you’re short, it always helps to have long-legged cousins …

Because it’s more fun when everyone’s included.

The big ones might help the little ones get places they can’t reach, but the little ones can remind the big ones how much fun it is to make a sand castle (and, funny how the big ones do most of the work once they get started …)

It was great to see my nieces back in Ontario, back on the island, and back with their cousins.

If I have my way, next time we see them will be at Whitewater – their local ski hill in BC.

Apples #twoweeksonwolfeisland

For some reason, this is a bumper, banner, amazing, year for apples. At least for the apples on our tree at the cottage.

I’ve never seen so many beautiful apples so early in the season.

This is our “red” apple tree (we also have a “green” apple tree – possible a russet?). From a taste test, I’d suggest these ones are maybe half Macintosh, half something else? The insides are white with a pinkish hue – beautiful.

Yesterday we had a few spare minutes, wandering between the river and the pool, so we picked some apples.

Here’s what that looked like:

We only took apples that came off with half-a-twist. We didn’t make a dent in what was growing there.

Beautiful …

I’m afraid to pick any more because I don’t know what to do with all of them …

We’re not the only ones who like the apples (I apologize for the quality of the photos – they were taken through the screen door so as not to disturb our visitor):

We see lots of fawns around. Most years, including this one, there’s a mom with twins. Not sure if this is the bolder of the twins, or another doe’s solo baby.

S/he knew I was taking this picture and didn’t really seem to mind.

I think you can see the spots still on him / her in this shot.

We got our visit from the deer just as we were finishing dinner, so all the kids got to gather round and have a look. I often wonder what the deer think of us – they show up and all these faces appear at the doors and windows to stare at them. Maybe they think we’re not allowed to come out?

Long run #twoweeksonwolfeisland

I don’t think I’ve mentioned here that I signed up for the Army Run half-marathon.

After my really, truly fun Ottawa Race Weekend 10K (and 5K), I thought “someday I should run another half-marathon.”

Then I thought, “Like the Army Run.”

Then I thought, “It’s not until September, I can get ready by then.”

Then I signed up.

When I registered it was forever away. Now it’s within sight.

Which means it’s time to start putting in some distances that will make sure I’m ready.

This morning was the first of what, to me, feel like longer, long runs. I ran nearly 15K this morning, and it was great.

Every morning on Wolfe Island I wake up (no alarm) and get out running just before 7:00 a.m. This morning, since I’d be running for longer, I made sure I was out running just after 6:30.

It was beautiful and quiet. Wolfe Island has a highway running end-to-end (about 40K) which almost never has cars on it, except at ferry times.

So, I ran under the rising sun, and saw lots of cows, and lots of ospreys, and in total – in nearly 15K and 75 minutes of running – five or six cars passed me.

When I got back, it was a quick dip in the St. Lawrence and then I climbed back into bed by 8:00 a.m.

For about five minutes, until I got up and cooked bacon, eggs, baked beans, and toast for breakfast … no matter how fast I run, I can’t outrun the appetites of my eleven and thirteen-year-old!

Truck! #twoweeksonwolfeisland

This is how tired I was last night (very tired) – I had this picture loaded up and ready to go, and I just didn’t get the post up.

Today, I’m talking about the Truck! It’s my dad’s truck, and as trucks go, it’s a small truck. Not particularly badass. But I love driving it. I love driving it on the island. I love driving it to the dump.

So, for today, I leave you with a picture of my preferred Wolfe Island motorized mode of transportation … THE TRUCK:

I suspect I’d like driving a tractor even more, but I really need tractor-driving lessons after a rather bad experience when I worked on a horse-racing farm as a teenager …

CORK #twoweeksonwolfeisland

If you don’t know about CORK, you’re probably not a sailor. CORK is, essentially, a pretty-much never-ending sailing regatta taking place in Kingston harbour all summer.

I’m not joking – there is pretty much always some CORK event going on. It’s incredible.

And it’s incredibly pretty. Those sails. All those sails …

Of course there are the funky ones, like the 29ers:

We saw a bunch of these heading out all in a row from Portsmouth Olympic Harbour and it was breathtaking.

and there are ones with bright spinnakers:

Spinnaker sails are distinct, unique, and colourful.

but there’s also something very cool about a whole bunch of white sails in the distance. That’s what I saw yesterday from the ferry. It was beautiful, however, I only had my cell phone, so the photo doesn’t show the sails like I hoped it would. Having said that, I think it’s a pretty awesome picture of the harbour, and if you squint, all the white specks against the dark land are sails. All of them. There were lots. It was pretty amazing:

I can see the white dots out there – hope you can too!

So, yeah, another cool thing about being on Wolfe Island in the summer is you get a free, front-row seat for CORK pretty much any day you like.

Today it’s Hay #twoweeksonwolfeisland

Nothing huge, nothing earth-shattering, but always a way to know we’re right into summer … our fields are being hayed.

I grew up with square bales – for horses – but I do love the look of these big round ones.

 

BIG hay bale, teeny-tiny cottage!

That’s it, that’s all for today!

Puppies! #twoweeksonwolfeisland

OK, here’s something else that might happen on Wolfe Island. You might drive into the village to get hot dog buns for lunch, and you might park along the curb right behind a pick-up truck with this sign in the back:

Yes, that says “Puppies for sale” … which is awkward because I really only wanted hot dog buns …

When this happens, you’re like Do not go see the puppies. Don’t look at the puppies. Don’t touch the puppies. You will want the puppies …

And then you might see this:

This is an eight-week-old black lab / golden retriever cross … Oh. Oh. Oh.

You will be afraid to ask how much they are, because you can probably afford them. Instead you’ll make gushing noises about how cute, and calm, and well-mannered they are (all these things are true) and you’ll tell the little boy looking after them how healthy and happy they look (which they do) and his dad will tell you the little boy has to look after them because he’s the one who let the black lab (Daddy dog) out when he wasn’t supposed to – whoopsie! – resulting in TEN puppies.

They aren’t just black:

These are a couple of the little guy’s sisters …

You will tear yourself away and go into the General Store to buy hot dog buns, and when you come out the guy with the puppies will give you a grin and ask “You sure you don’t want one?”

And you will not be able to go any closer to the truck because if you do, you’ll have to go back into the General Store and buy puppy food!