Trail Tales

Porters Lake Forest Fires: 2 years later

2011-01-17T16:32:00.003-04:00

For my latest hike (map), myself and three friends went out to the area of the huge fire that devastated large swaths of forest and forced 5000 people from their homes. This was my first time seeing the damage up close, and it really was devastating. Stretching for kilometers in all directions are bare, soot stained sticks, where there was once a forest.

The hike took us along some back roads, well travelled by local ATVs. We crossed streams and rivers, and were flanked by lakes most of the time. The weather was ideal, partly sunny, cool but not cold for this time of year, and a layer of fresh snow. The lakes were just frozen enough to look passable, but as my feet quickly found out, were not. Anyone doing winter hiking around lakes should take the time to look up the local ice thickness report before hand.

We decided to venture off the beaten path for an hour of hardcore bush whacking. It's always fun to challenge yourself and test the limits of you're new equipment. My boots and pants passed the test, fighting off 4 or 5 soakers, and providing good traction and warmth. I can't stress enough the importance of good waterproof, breathable hiking boots. Running shoes are fine for gravel pathways, but for serious hiking, you need equally serious footwear. As always, layers of clothing are key. This day I went with a long sleeve, thin, moisture wicking shirt, with a lightweight cotton/wool mix long sleeve shirt over that, and my 2 layer winter jacket on top. My pants are fleece lined snowboarding type with elastic cuffs which fit over my mid-shin high waterproof winter boots. With temperatures slightly below zero to start off the day I wore all layers, but when the mid-morning sunshine came out I took off my middle layer, unzipped my jacket and took off my hat and gloves to avoid overheating or working up a big sweat (something you want to avoid in winter). It was great to be out in the fresh air and sunshine, while being very comfortable and warm. One thing i neglected to bring was sunglasses, which would have been good to protect my eyes from snow and ice glare.

With the fresh layer of snow, it was easy to see lots of tracks, including deer, rabbit and coyote. The snow also provided a beautiful cosmetic layer to cover a lot of the devastation from the fires. Instead of looking like a burned out wasteland, it had taken on a surreal beauty. In the two years since the fires, new growth has begun in abundance. This hike was great because it really contrasts the destructive power and resilience of mother nature. New growth was already 3-4 feet high.

After an hour of bush-whacking we came upon a small hunting camp, and decided to pay a visit. The camp was clean, and well maintained. A greeting note on the table laid out rules and invited visitors to stay. It is great to see this kind of thing. The people who wrote the note and maintain the log book have no problem with responsible people visiting their camp and in fact encourage it by providing their contact info so you can phone ahead to see if the camp will be available at a certain time. I won't give any info on the camp, because I like to encourage people to find their own hidden gems and respect the code of conduct. Clean up, replace anything you use, leave only useful items, and don't advertise the location.

The hike was great, the scenery was great, but the best part of all was the renewed confidence in the resilient power of mother nature, and the qualities of sharing and trust in human nature. VIDEO

Getting to know Hemlock Ravine Park

2010-09-28T23:06:00.008-03:00

Chances are if you've never visited Hemlock Ravine Park, or been there once years ago, you are in the majority of HRM residents. Everyone knows and loves Point Pleasant Park, and the Public Gardens, but Hemlock Ravine is their unassuming, lesser-known cousin. Most people (like myself) know very little about the park. Some likely don't know of its existence, others may know it exists but are un-sure exactly where it is. Others know of the heart-shaped pond, or the white round house off of the Bedford Highway. The round house has always had a mystique to me since I was a youngster, perhaps because it is in such an odd spot, or perhaps it was because the only history I knew of it was that a man once went insane in there because he could not find a corner to pee in (my mother's idea of a history lesson). I don't think I'm alone in my lack of knowledge about Hemlock Ravine Park, and only recently have I become well acquainted with what is one of the most naturally beautiful parts of the city. Allow me to (re)introduce you to Hemlock Ravine Park:

Part 1: History. aka what is that little round white house on the bedford highway, and who built the heart-shaped pond?

In 1780, Nova Scotia's Lieutenant Governor, John Wentworth resided on the grounds. Wentworth happens to be the same man who built the current Goverment House on Barrington Street. In 1794, Prince Edward, Duke of Kent arrived in Halifax to command the garrison. Wentworth then lent the estate to him, where he and his French mistress, Julie St. Laurent lived. Edward turned the grounds into heavily landscaped pleasure gardens, built ornamental temples, waterfalls, a grotto and a pond (originally larger than the current one, and oval shaped). The retreat was the social center of the colony for the local elite, and activities included garden parties, picnics, concerts, and winter skating parties on the pond after sleigh rides from Halifax. In 1800, Edward and St. Laurent left Halifax, and the grounds were turned over to Governor Wentworth, who moved out shortly, and the grounds fell into disrepair but remained popular with locals for its natural beauty and ideal setting for a country picnic. When Prince Arthur (Prince Edward's Grandson) arrived in Halifax in 1869, he re-shaped the pond into its current heart shape, in dedication to the 27 years that Prince Edward and Julie St. Laurent spent together. By the 1950s, all that remained of the original estate was the muddy pond, and one decorative temple; the round music rotunda.

Part 2: What is so good about it now?

After learning the history, you may think that there is no reason to go there now, as it may have been spectacularly beautiful when it was built, but now all that is left is a couple of small reminders. However, if you want to witness some spectacular gardens all you have to do is visit Halifax's Public Gardens. If you want to witness some beautiful old, untouched nature, there are very few places in the entire province that you can do this, let alone in the city. The reason Hemlock ravine is so beautiful now isn't because of anything that The Duke of Kent did, it's what he and the early settlers of Halifax didn't do that make the park the gem it is today. Since the grounds were protected from the early settlement of Halifax, the trees were not cut down to supply the garrison, unlike the rest of the city (excluding Point Pleasant Park). While virtually the entire province's forest has been cut down and re-grown generation after generation, Hemlock Ravine is one of a handful of places where this hasn't happened. As a result, 300 year old, 80ft Hemlocks can be seen in the park, as well as numerous other flora and fauna that you are unlikely to see elsewhere around the city. Halifax is known as the city of trees, but to see un-touched old growth forest is a rarity throughout the entire province.. You can visit Hemlock Ravine, quickly forget you are in the city, and be re-acquainted with nature all within a 15 minute drive of most of the HRM.

Part 3: Nature

The city of Halifax has owned the 200 acre grounds since 1977. The treasures contained in the park include 300 year old Hemlock trees which grow along the banks of the Ravine. The Eastern Hemlock tree can live up to 450 years, and can be identified by their droopy, feathery, dark green, flat needle foliage in flat sprays of branches and their unusually small cones. It was once dominant throughout Nova Scotia, but extensive logging greatly reduced their numbers and all but eliminated old stands. Fortunately, when given the chance, they do re-generate easily. Hemlocks are considered a soft wood, but are actually incredibly hard. Natives made a poultice (a medicinal, warm compress) from the inner bark, and early settlers made hemlock tea to induce sweating (not to be confused with the poison that Socrates drank, which is from an un-related herb.)

The undergrowth of the park is not typical of an old-growth forest, there are however small pockets of climax conifer forest of the quartzite barrens. Look for painted trillium (endangered, do not pick) in the mossy carpet of the spruce trees in June. Hobblebush grows here, as well as elderberry in the fall. In the northern part of the park, which has been hit by numerous fires in the past, there is a growth of red maple trees.

Animals include red squirrels and white tailed deer. flying squirrels, raccoons, red foxes and owls have also been sited.

Part 4: Go there, explore, enjoy, relax, appreciate, and be sure to look upward.

Hemlock Ravine Links: Photos , Video, Park Info

Cape Breton

2010-09-15T17:24:00.002-03:00

It has been a while since I had last visited Cape Breton, and as the summer wound down, I decided I needed to do a few "summerly" things before the great weather passed without anything significant to remember it by. My friend's family has a cottage in East Bay, on the Bras D'ors lake, and it had been a couple of years since both he and I visited.

The drive to Cape Breton is always enjoyable in the summer, as the scenery gets progressively better the further you go. Entering Antigonish County, "the highland heart of Nova Scotia" you begin to get a feel for the highland landscape, and begin to see the Celtic heritage that Nova Scotia is rooted in. Past this point, anywhere you go at any given time, you are likely to hear bagpipes, fiddles and people indulging in a few spirited drinks at a local ceilidh or festival.

In the words of local Cape Bretoners; the day the Canso Causeway was constructed, was the day that Canada joined Cape Breton. That statement gives you a perfect insight into the sense of humour and pride present within them all. To this day, the causeway provides a landmark which crosses into beautiful scenery, great people, proud culture and storied history.

The arrival at my friends cottage is met with extreme relaxation and summertime good feelings, and an urge to do absolutely nothing. Upon arrival in Cape Breton, it is customary to first visit the liquor store, and stock up on Gaelic celebration fuel (beer, whisky and wine). Once set up at the cottage, all that was left to do was unpack, put beer in the fridge, locate the most comfortable deck chair, and take some deep breaths of the warm salty air. The Bras D'ors lakes are not what we are used to when we think of lakes. They are salt water, and the largest of their kind in the world ( According to myself? ). Boating and swimming in the lake was fantastic, warm like most lakes in August, salty like the ocean, and endlessly large. Since the lake is salt water, many salt water fish live here. Jigging for cod is something you can't do in any other lake, and something I am equally unsuccessful at regardless of location.

Our days were spent on and around the lake, exploring islands, swimming, fishing and boating. The water was as warm as a heated pool, the rugged hills were a deep green, the sky a light blue, and the calm dark waters of the lake reflected a couple of eagles who were cruising with the clouds above. There was no choice but to be 100% relaxed. Even the cottage is a thing a beauty. It was built over 200 years ago, by a couple of brothers from New England who ran a farm here in the summers, and returned to new England as ship builders in the winters. The cottage is constructed just as you would imagine 19th century expert ship builders and master craftsmen would. The ceilings look like the deck of an old sailing ship, banisters and stairs are made of thick dark wood, each piece of wood hand milled, carved and joints made without glue or nails. It's not hard to imagine being under sail on the Atlantic, with the smell of the salt water and the look of finely crafted woodwork.

The evenings were spent in true Cape Breton fashion, enjoying many fine beverages and having nothing but good times. You don't have to travel far, or travel at all to find a celebration. If you're lucky you will stumble on a good old fashion Ceilidh, complete with fiddler, bagpipes and a culture of people who have been partying this way since their Gaelic ancestors settled here in the 1700s.

Waking up after an evening of heavy drinking, to a level which is unacceptable in most social settings, is both expected and embraced in Cape Breton. In our case we had a miracle, all-natural remedy for hangovers. A large cool, fresh, waterfall 5 minutes down the road provided an instant cure, and with a bar of soap, I was ready to take on another day.

No trip to Cape Breton is complete without exploring the Cabot Trail and the surrounding Highlands National Park. The Cabot Trail is a world renowned route, first used by European explorer John Cabot, and now a mecca for people looking for a world-class scenic drive. You can quickly see how huge the tourism industry is here, but you also quickly see how it is hugely different. It's easy to see tourist traps and people looking to make a quick buck at any popular destination around the world. The places are usually run by "friendly" people who are more than happy to take your money. Cape Breton has no shortage of tourist friendly spots, but these spots are different, and it's the people that make them different. You begin to realize that the friendliness of the people you encounter is not because they want your money, or because they know you're a tourist and want you to have a good impression. They'd just as soon have a good conversation or share a joke, and treat you the same way they'd treat locals. Being genuine is part of the culture here.

The drive itself is absolutely spectacular, and no videos , photos or descriptions can do it justice. The large rolling green hills, and the blue ocean, provide some spectacular views. There is no shortage of fantastic places to eat, shop, golf, hike, and stay along the way, as well as many small towns and communities steeped in Gaelic, Native and Acadian history. The town of Cheticamp is a great example of the combination of natural beauty, culture, and history boasted throughout Cape Breton. The town itself is surrounded by green mountains, and borders the ocean. The people are french speaking Acadians, and have managed to hold onto and celebrate their language and culture amid an English speaking province. (I highly recommend the seafood chowder, while seated on a patio).

Cape Breton once again left me re-aligned. You really can't go wrong with a spring/summer or fall visit to Cape Breton. Whether you're looking to hike, camp, drive, bike, kayak, fish, golf, dine, drink, or just explore, this is where you need to go. Cape Breton is a lot of things to a lot of people, but one thing it is to everyone is beautiful. Cape Breton is equal parts natural and cultural beauty and deserves its designation by National Geographic as one of the top two places in the world for sustainable tourism.

Links: My Photos Newest Video Older Video

Keji

2010-08-08T14:31:00.016-03:00

When it comes to camping, Nova Scotia has plenty to offer. Anywhere you go, it seems you're never far from a campground. Camping is a way of life, and a rite of passage for any outdoor loving nova scotian. When you think camping in nova scotia, one place comes to mind above all others. Kejimkujik National Park is the pride and joy of Nova Scotia's outdoors.

While most of the provinces forests are nothing more than tree farms, where one species of trees is planted and harvested every 20 years, there are a few places where you can see what our forests are supposed to look like. Point Pleasant Park, Hemlock Ravine, Keji and the Highlands National Park in Cape Breton are the handful of places where you can actually see a forest that has been untouched (save for hurricane Juan's devistation to Point Pleasant).

I had been wanting to re-visit Keji for a long time, and this summer I finally did. Myself and two friends woke up early one Saturday morning and decided to head out, spur of the moment. We called the park before we left to make sure there were camp sites available, and the friendly person on the other end of the phone assured us there was, and that she could help us plan everything out when we got there. 2.5 hours from Halifax later, we arrived at the visitor centre and laid out our plans. We wanted to do some back country camping, where the journey would be a major part of the trip. As young men we were capable of handling any of the physical challenges that we may encounter. Long portage routes, long paddles and hikes were all right up our alley. The two friendly women at the counter considered our requests as well as our time frame (a 24 hour visit) and came up with the perfect site for us. Sure enough, it was all of that and more.

We started the adventure at the boat rental, where we rented one kayak and one canoe. We used the time honoured tradition of rock paper scissors to decide who would be in which boat. The boat rental place usually includes drop off and pickup as part of its services, but where we were headed and where we would return were not on their usual route, so we used the supplied roof straps and made a couple of trips to our launch point. Right away, it became evident that our portage skills were very rusty. Our first attempt included carrying a canoe full of supplies, and manhandling a kayak. After about 20 meters this attempt failed. We re-grouped and determined we would be better off emptying all of the gear and supplies and making one trip with them and returning to make a second trip to carry the boats. If we were early Canadian fur traders, we would have been fired on the spot. We struggled to find a good way to carry the boats, and ended up just bearing down and battling mentally and physically. The canoe wasn't too bad between the two of us, but the kayak was still a real challenge for our friend, who is not challenged in the strength department.

Once the initial portage was done, we took a break, drank a deserving beer, and took in the sights. Lush green forest, and a large dark blue lake, perfect weather, and lots of birds chirping. As I looked around I began to notice the differences between the forest here and the forest we are used to. The amount and diversity of trees, plants, birds and animals was enormously different than elsewhere.

We set out on our paddle, relaxed, taking in the beautiful weather and calmness. The lakes in Keji can sometimes have some pretty fierce headwinds, making the paddling a real challenge. luckily today was not one of those days. The first lake took us about an hour to paddle, and as we reached the end we disembarked and began to mentally prepare for another fairly long 800 meter portage (it sounds a lot shorter when you don't have a canoe on your head). The portage was long, but we had our strategy perfected now, and we reached the end, exhausted, but excited at the new scenery. A calm inlet, complete with lilly pads and yellow flowers sitting on the perfectly smooth water. To our friend, an avid fly fisherman, this was what we came for. The fly reels were quickly deployed, as I opened a beer and took my camera out to really examine the surroundings. The park sells fishing licenses for the back country areas, for 10 dollars per day, and they only apply to certain spots in the back country. But we were happy to pay for it, as we weren't even sure if you would be allowed to fish here, since everything is so highly protected.

After our long but relatively unsuccessful fishing break (I didn't even bother trying), we loaded up the boats and headed off for the last leg of our journey. The inlet opened into a wide and winding river, where the wildlife was teeming. Within minutes, we encountered a couple of beavers who were quick to let us know we were now in their territory, by splashing the water with their tail in an attempt to scare the crap out of us as we daydreamed. The river was very slow and calm, and the weather was perfect. I'm not sure how long this journey would normally take, but we definitely were not making record time. As the sun began to approach the horizon we realized that maybe we should shift out of relax mode and get a push on to the end of the river. After every bend we were sure the end was in sight, but it was impossible to tell. About an hour after our first guess that the end was around the next corner, we finally reached the end of the river, and our camping site destination. The sun was slowly setting and we set up our tent and got our gear out. We couldn't have timed it any better as far as getting some great sunset photos and some last minute fishing. I quickly noticed a bird which seemed to be heading towards us, but not really moving at all. I realized that it was actually just hovering in mid-air like a hummingbird. This bird however was the size of a seagull and was actually hunting for fish. Incredible. I have no clue what kind of bird this is, and I've never seen one in my 30 years here, which says a lot about Keji. When it got dark, the wildlife kept surprising. Bats cruised up and down the river feasting on flies, and a couple of very large owls had fun making some startling noises that had us running away and reaching for our knives, like true city slickers. We were truly on our own out here, we could not see another camp fire or light anywhere. All we heard was animals, and though the sky was somewhat overcast, the stars were still immensely more impressive than what we are used to.

All in all, it was a fantastic trip, and lived up to all of my expectations. I wished we had more time to spend there, as you could easily spend many days exploring the huge park. A multi-day, multi-camp site loop around the park would be ideal. I was very impressed by the park, and the people who run it. It is great to see the extent that all of the volunteers and workers in the park are willing to go to to protect every species within it. If you live in Halifax, you are no stranger to speed bumps.... and Keji is no exception. The speed bumps at Keji, however, are to protect an endangered species of turtles, who nest nearby the main road. The turtles are studied and cared for by the park staff and by volunteers. There are many people who contribute to the park, and it really shows. If you have never been, or haven't been in years, you owe it to yourself to visit Keji whether its for a day or a week. Click here for the video from my trip.

Unfinished Business (free rant included!)

2010-03-22T22:49:00.014-03:00

With all of the beautiful early spring weather we have been having for the month of March, I immediately began to plan a camping outing. Tops on the list was to take on some unfinished business and head to the hunting camp in Enfield (see previous post "men vs wild"). The last excursion was so enjoyable that I just had to do it a second time. This time I tripled the amount of maps, and studied the map like an old foe. The battle plan was set, and the weather was spectacular. It was easy to convince the same friends of mine who were a part of the last survival adventure, and were allies with a common enemy. In a foreboding set of circumstances, we again left for our adventure at around 2 o'clock due to prior engagements for one of us.

The departure time proved to be the only similarity to the last outing. The back roads seemed to be in pretty good condition, as far as extremely back country logging roads go. I had the assumption that we wouldn't be able to drive in any significant distance, but for once I was wrong with no negative ramifications. I carefully navigated each dip, hole, mud puddle and crumbling culvert while saved hiking time piled up in the back of my head. 20 minutes later, we reached the familiar high voltage power lines and I decided my station wagon had come sufficiently far enough out of its element.

We geared up feeling great about the hour of hiking we just saved. Last time we hiked up this part of the trail we had a bitterly cold headwind slapping us in the face while we inched up the hill. Today, it was sunny and warm, and early enough in the season that there were no bugs. As a former tree planter who's seen the worst the outdoors has to offer, these conditions were ideal. Our gear was still heavy enough to keep us focused on the objective, which was the elusive cabin in the middle of the woods. This time we were positive we were making the right turns and heading in the right direction, but a couple of hours later we worried that we underestimated the distance and difficulty of the hike. Just as our bodies began to break down, we reached the end of our path, spirits were high, as the land became familiar and I knew that when the path ended we were to head into the dense woods and put our lives in the hands of the coordinates on my GPS. The road indeed did end, but a new road continued.... a road to hell.

The new road was a familiar one to me, one I had seen everyday for 4 summers tree planting. It was a skidder track, which led into a huge clear cut, a clear-cut where the dense woods surrounding the cabin used to be. My heart quickly sunk and I made plans for once again sleeping outdoors, while holding back some seething anger. Surely the cabin was shown about as much respect as the rest of the land, and had been cut down, chopped up, spit out and stomped on. Nevertheless we followed the GPS which said the cabin was 200 meters straight ahead.... in the tree graveyard. Luckily the farther we went the closer we got to a clump of trees which had been spared. In that section of trees was our GPS target. We headed into the trees and did some bushwhacking, eventually coming upon our oasis. The elusive cabin was alive! It stood defiant and welcoming, the extremely rustic facade almost winking at us. We rejoiced in an exhausted manor, and quickly put all of our gear in the cabin and did all of the work that we needed to do for a night of extreme relaxation. It was a beautiful night, and the nature around the cabin was superb; including babbling brook as well as some large old trees which had been spared through a couple generations of tree massacres.

I couldn't help but be angered by the complete and utter devastation of the area. It was odd, because I had spent 4 summers working in clear-cuts, but this one was especially offensive. My previous visit to the cabin involved a half hour of bushwhacking, and was a secret hideaway in the heart of the woods. The woods were now completely gone. This time the walk was over the rotting carcass of what was the woods I knew. This destruction had a personal meaning to me this time, as it was land I had known before it was destroyed. I had always known that Nova Scotia's forestry industry was a dirty secret of the province, and that our "woods" were really nothing more than tree farms, to be harvested every 20 years. It was a lot more difficult to shrug this fact off now, and really made me realize how badly we treat our environment.

Nova Scotia has no real "forests", what we have are tree farms, mostly softwood plantations. We plant soft wood because it grows quickly and can be harvested quickly. Our woods looked nothing like this in the old days. It is completely unnatural to have forests of completely softwood, yet that is what we have, and not many people realize it. The only real forests we have are in our provincial parks. Point Pleasant Park, Kejimkujik, and Highlands in Cape Breton are our only real forests, because they have been protected for generations. If you get a chance to visit one of these areas, and you compare the forest there, to what you see on the side of the highway, you can begin to appreciate just how unnatural our forests really are.

Clear-cuts are universally frowned upon, and offend everyone. The province has so many, that it eventually had to install new regulations as a result of so many complaints, many coming from visiting tourists who commented on all of the clear-cuts they saw as they drove across the province. The new regulations weren't to curtail the cutting, nor to harvest wood in a more sustainable and ecologically sensitive way. The regulations stated that clear cuts could not begin within 20 meters of any roads or highways, as well as a 10 meter buffer zone beside any body of water. The result was to hide our dirty secret. Now you can drive down the highway and have no idea that behind what you think is a forest, is immensely more damaging than any hurricane or explosion this province has ever seen.

There is a huge economic and political aspect to this issue, and I can appreciate the fact that completely curtailing clear-cutting would have huge ramifications on many people. What really bothers me is that this issue does not get any media coverage, no debates or discussions. Most people are completely unaware. The people who are aware are people with similar experiences. People who are accustomed to a certain area they loved to explore as a kid.... or have a certain attachment to, and then one day, they go to visit it, and see that it has been destroyed. It's likely only after an experience like that that you can truly appreciate how poorly we are treating our forests.

After a night in the cabin, we fired up the wood stove and had breakfast, which tastes roughly twice as good when you are camping. Each thing you throw on the grill, put on your plate, or in your cup is one less thing you have to carry out. Guilt-free eggs, bacon and sausage are the best way to get your spirits and your energy up in a hurry. We then went out to chop some wood to replace what we had used. Luckily wood was not hard to find here, and came in the form of pre-cut piles. We closed up the camp, and headed back home. The return trip is always more enjoyable because you know where you're going, know what to expect, and your pack is no longer a burden thanks to your digestive system. The trip came to an end as we reached the car, and as I turned the key and the engine started, I officially deemed the outing a success. Unfinished business, no more.

Tubing: It's awesome.

2009-05-29T23:05:00.002-03:00

The weatherman…. weatherperson…… The meteorologist called for a 30 degree beauty yesterday, which really puts the pressure on to come up with a great thing to do. I'd been pondering the idea of taking a inflatable snow tube, or a 15 dollar Canadian tire blow up boat and putting it in to the lazy river I had so much success fishing at in Beaverbank. I wasn't sure if this would actually turn out to be a good idea or not. What were the unforeseen problems with putting a small inflatable, intended for small children, into a river I hadn't fully explored? There was only one way to find out.
We headed out in the afternoon, after stopping so my friend could purchase a brand spanking new sportcraft 5000 (15 dollars at Canadian Tire), a vessel that would make any 5 year old jealous. The walk to the river itself requires a few hundred meters of wet, muddy marsh walking through some tall grass. We hadn't been properly prepared for this part, as our nike air’s became nike swamps. When we reached our destination, we inflated our crafts. The inflating process took some effort, even with our heavy duty pump.
When my tube was inflated fully, I put my tube into the river, gathered my gear, and looked at it for a while. My friend did the same. Hmmm. What would be the best way to get into this craft for people over the age of 5? After some mental modelling, I went for it. My butt successfully planted into the middle of the tube, the queen broke a champagne bottle across its hull, and I was off for my maiden voyage. I looked back to see how my friend was getting along, when I see a large man, laying face first into his boat afraid to make any more sudden movements. The next moments were sure to bring some good entertainment, so I quickly grabbed for my camera. We discussed the situation for a while, as he pitched questions to me with his voice muffled by a face full of rubber. When he regrouped ashore, I recommended a butt first approach. He landed it cleanly and the voyage was truly underway.
This was awesome. Things were looking great. Some cold beer to drink, and nothing to do but float. The outing was at least as good or better than I had imagined it could be, and I highly recommend doing it.
It took us just under 2 hours to go along a good stretch of the river, without actually travelling too far from where we started, thanks to the river's "S" shape, and very slow moving current. Spending 15 dollars for a little inflatable, and finding a suitably lazy river makes for a day well spent. Be sure to check out the Google map location of this river, and beware that the journey to and from the river to the road isn't easy, but isn't overly difficult either. Keep an eye out for beavers and be respectful of the area. You can see some cool sticks carved by the beavers, as well as a couple of them popping up keeping an eye on you, as we saw a couple, looking jealous. Check out the video here !

Fishing Update

2009-05-25T18:17:00.004-03:00

Last week I headed out to a river in Sackville with my brother, for lucky? visit #3. My sister in-law had done what has taken us a month to do, which is to locate all kinds of fish. Earlier that day she had gone for a walk and noticed fish jumping all over the place in the river. When we hear that fish have been spotted, we quickly move in to disperse them.

As we pulled into a parking lot near our spot, another car pulled up to us and asked us if we had fished that particular spot before. We said we hadn’t and the guy said that he had, and that there is some good fishing to be had in there. We contained our enthusiasm and thanked him for telling us. As we started to walk in, a car pulled out and the guy stopped to tell us that there were tons of fish in there, and he pulled out a bag full of ones he had just caught. We could hardly wait another minute to get to the river, and refrained from a full out sprint. Today was definitely the day, and we were sure we would soon be pulling fish out of the river within the first cast or two.

I suddenly thought of something I had never even considered before: do we have a container to put in all the fish we catch? I asked my brother, he looked at me, smiled, and said he also hadn’t even considered this. It was a problem to be addressed later, for now we were concerned about getting our hooks in the water as quickly as possible. The spot looked ideal. I couldn’t wait see what happened when I did my first cast of the evening. It turns out I could wait. I waited a lot. I waited until it got dark, and cold.

A few desperation casts were all that was left of my evening, but with one of them, something I had never seen before. A fish chasing after my hook, nibbling on it, glancing up at me, laughing, and then swimming away. I couldn’t believe my almost luck. As it turns out, this was just another insult to injury. I packed up my stuff, told my brother I was going to go get the car, while he fished for a few more minutes. I walked off slowly, pondering the reasons for my latest failure. A while later my brother emerges, fish in hand. I thought it was surely a gag. It wasn’t. He had caught a fish, just shortly after I left. Schools of fish were jumping around everywhere immediately after I left. What does this mean? It is obviously an omen.

Beware the day I do catch a fish, as it sure to signal the coming of the next anti-christ.

Long Lake Provincial Park: First visit of the year.

2009-05-13T23:45:00.002-03:00

Today (May11) I headed out to Long Lake Provincial Park, a place I’ve been quite a few times before. My main purpose for the trip was to get some material to compile a video for the website.
My first visit to Long Lake came many moons ago when I was a young high school student, with a new bike and a keen interest in shit disturbing. After getting kicked out of Point Pleasant Park more than a couple of times for doing some nature ravaging off-road stunts, I needed to broaden my range. I had heard that there were some good off-road trails off of St. Margaret’s Bay Road so I phoned up a partner in crime and we headed out. When we arrived, we were surprised to see a small parking lot and what looked to be a park that we had never seen before, yet was 15 minutes from our house. The discovery changed everything. No longer were parks purely for hordes of us to converge on after dusk with backpacks full of bad news. Now we had found a place that was more fun than most illegal activities. The trails were perfect for some serious off-road biking, and the park was so large that each excursion took us on a different adventure.
The park has changed considerably since then. Today it is a well known spot, popular with all sorts of people. It’s not uncommon to see the parking lot full, and the trail head packed with people walking their dogs. It has a Point Pleasant Park type feel when you arrive, but you can quickly escape the main area and set out into the unknown (thanks to our Province being too cheap to mark or maintain any official trails). The spring time is typically not a good time to visit this park. As my friend pointed out a couple of weeks ago, with the snow melted, a winter’s worth of dog crap doesn’t make for a pleasant atmosphere. I can remember the same problem with Point Pleasant, jogging in 30 degree heat, with the smell of frying dog crap greeting you, Joe Camel himself waiting for you at the finish line, and a group of “The Fast and The Furious” extras idling their cars in the parking lot as you try to catch your breath. This place does suffer from the same dog crap stench greeting you and bidding you adue with each visit, but if you can get past the main trail as soon as possible, it offers much more room to explore and escape the crowd.
My most recent visit was another surprise, as I got on a few trails that I didn’t remember and saw some things I’d never seen. There are some interesting rocks and plants hidden throughout the park, and if you keep an eye out you’re bound to see something cool. The biggest surprise this time was a tent, with extensive supplies that we came upon as we were “getting our bearings”. This tent didn’t seem to be a vacationer’s getaway, it looked to be a lifestyle choice. We quickly backpeddled and headed out towards the Bay Road as we did not want to encrouch on the Long Lake axe-murderer’s space.
All in all it was a good spring outing, and the park looks like it’s about ready to start blooming. Be sure to check it out if you’ve never been. Set aside enough time to do lots of exploring and bring a compass so you don’t wander in circles.

Technorati Tags: long lake,provincial park,halifax,nova scotia,hiking,biking,trails,trail

Huge Fire In Spryfield

2009-04-30T17:21:00.006-03:00

Decided to go for a jog at point pleasant park this afternoon, as soon as I left the house I saw a huge plume of smoke, looked like a bomb went off somewhere. As I drove closer to the park, I could see what looked to be the entire Spryfield area on fire. I took some time out of my jog at the park to snap some of these pics, sacrificing my target heart rate in the process! Lets hope the damage to people's lives is minimal. Looks like York Redoubt could be hard hit.

New Day, Same story.

2009-04-28T23:36:00.005-03:00

Today's freakish 30 degree, end of April heat awoke the city. The weather was like mid August rather than the end of April. The heat caught people by surprise, by calling for the summer wardrobe without even having a preparatory month of self loathing at the gym. I thought the fish too would be caught by surprise and be ready to jump onto some hooks.
They weren't. In fact I saw none. The black flies and mosquitoes wasted no time in resuming where they left off last summer, any fish in their right mind would have been having a feeding frenzy on the fly congregation on the calm waters of the Herbert River. The only thing we caught were some grass fish, stick fish, dirt fish and t-shirt sleeve fish.
The highlight of the evening (other than the mid-august feeling temperature) was when we had our backs turned to the water rigging up our rods, when we heard a very loud splash, and looked to see large ripples in the water. Frightened, my brother assumed someone was playing a joke on us and threw a big rock into the water, and I assumed a small shark must have jumped out of the shallow river. Oddly enough it turned out to be neither. A minute later, a beaver surfaces, and slaps the water with his tail. I'm not sure what it means when they do that, but we assumed it was mockery. It has gotten to the point now that beavers are coming out to see the guy who has caught one fish in his entire life.
Though unsuccessful, and my streak still intact, I am still determined to catch a fish this year. I may have to eventually buy one at the grocery store, hide it in my bag, and attach it to my hook when no one is looking. I may even get a live lobster before going fishing in a river somewhere with some friends, attach it to a hook when no one's looking, put my camera on video mode, and record the reactions when I pull a canner out of the river! You can come up with some really good ides when you're unsuccessfully fishing.

Lake Echo Area Fishing (0-4)

2009-04-28T12:21:00.004-03:00

Great spot, saw the fish jumping, no luck. Did get some scraped knuckles off of a granite boulder, a broken rod, lots of lost hooks and bait, and a couple good pics. The streak is intact. Calls to Guinness soon.

Fishing: Third time is a charm, disproven.

2009-04-26T15:26:00.002-03:00

With the first good weather forecast of the year, a buzz took hold of the city on Friday, and as I finished work, the first thing I wanted to do was something outdoors. Fishing was in order, the best outdoor activity when you are too tired to do anything else. I talked to my brother who told me Grand Lake in Enfield was the place to be, as the fish were begging to be caught there. I met up with him and we headed out, skipping dinner, as we would surely have lots of delicious bass to cook up later on.
As we headed out onto the lake, it was apparent lots of other people were in the same frame of mind, and there was a lot of activity on the lake, on a beautiful evening of sunshine and 20 degrees. The loons were out competing with us for fish. They seemed to know to avoid the spots we fished, as there was sure to be nothing there. However, after a few minutes we entered a cove and caused a fish riot, the fish all started jumping out of the water, which I later realized was the aquatic version of the finger. Surely we would catch a lot of fish in this cove. We didn’t, not even a bite. Looking back on it, I think we would have been better off putting the net in and just scooping them out.
We reluctantly gave up on the cove and headed out to other parts of the lake, passing other people fishing along the way, inevitably answering the question “any luck?” the same way we always do.
My expectations lowered steadily, and I began to focus more on the lovely sunset and the loons calling back and forth, and snapped some great pics and videos. This made my trip a small success. We fished until after dark, with our beer running low and the cold reminding us that it is still April, we headed back in disbelief that we caught nothing, but still not really that shocked. We met up with others who caught “a few” and I’m sure we were the only people who didn’t catch anything that day. Most people would quit fishing at this point, and take up a new hobby. I will continue to defy all odds in my attempt for the Guinness world record for most hours spent fishing without catching anything. At least I get some good pictures, and I do my part to maintain a healthy fish population, and help educate them on how to avoid fish hooks.

Redemption.....by a nose.

2009-04-22T10:35:00.008-03:00

On the weekend I set out to accomplish a couple of goals, and redeem myself with the Earth. I planned on doing a long hike, and not get lost and have to spend the night in the woods, and the next day to have a successful fishing trip. 50% is a pass in my books.

The hiking trail we decided on (well after noon) was Pennant Point trail, otherwise known as the Crystal Crescent trail. I had been on this trail before with my brother, nephew, and dogs. The trail I remember is a popular one with dog walkers and didn’t seem too challenging or exciting. The trail I remember turned out to be about 10% of the full trail. The actual trail is 12k and full of amazing scenery and landscapes. I added a few pictures to my all time bests on the trip (still nothing beats the old one of a big wave crashing behind me as I stand on a rock pondering the ocean, taken with a kid’s disposable camera). The first part of the trail was boardwalks and bridges, typical beachfront trail; the remaining part is un-maintained and is a lot more fun. Anyone can think themselves a rock climbing adventurer on this trail. As I scaled large boulders and hopped nimbly from rock to rock I gloated each time I successfully did not break my ankle.

The scenery here is like Peggy’s Cove for miles upon miles. The scenery almost inspired me to break out a bottle of whisky and start singing some Irish folk songs. I spotted a couple of seals and about 10 porcupines. The porcupines seem to love the area, and I’m surprised every pooch leaving the park didn’t have quills up its nose.

There is lots of sea debris to be seen here, from extremely large buoys, to DVD cases, shoes, books, and your standard oil cans and eco-friendly plastics. I did manage to snap an unexpectedly awesome picture of a washed up lobster trap, next to an old tire.

After walking for a couple of hours, the boys and I sat on some rocks, made a fire, drank some beer and cooked hot dogs. This is what you are meant to do on this hike. There is no shortage of dry wood lying around, and it was a pleasant change from our last attempt at making a fire. We could have easily spent an hour relaxing there, but our previous experience told me to check my watch and get a move on. We set out again with a limited amount of sunlight left and a hefty part of the trail yet to go.

We walked for a few kilometres through some marshy areas, where my football training came in handy as I did the “high knees” drill through a good portion of it to avoid swamp foot. After only 2 soakers, we were through the swampy stuff and came upon the yellow sign we were looking for which directed us into the woods and eventually back to the parking lot. We weren’t sure how far it was, but I was playing it safe and assuming it was a lot further than we thought. The sun was setting and would be gone in another 15 minutes, and we were just now heading into the unknown.

I snapped a quick picture of the sunset (another one of my all time best unexpected pics) and two of us started into a jog, leaving the others on their own to scold themselves for not accomplishing more on the treadmill. The trail was ideal for jogging, and as we came out of the woods we hit a field which seemed to stretch as far as we could see. The sun was now set as we reached the peak of a hill, where we were able to see that the parking lot was in the distance. We were in a good stride, the only thing keeping us from a sprint were our ankles reminding us to be cautious. A good 30 minute jog and we were now back at the car, extremely tired. The others would no doubt be a while, and the fact that it was now dark left us wondering if we were going to have to get suited up for a search and rescue mission. A few minutes later my cell phone rings, the boys have reached our booby trap (black electrical tape tied between two trees across the trail) and were now in a creek, which we never saw. They had obviously taken a wrong turn courtesy of the same guy who lost the map in the previous excursion, with an assist from the total darkness. Even though the trail was quite easy to follow, it seems they had strayed from it, and the two of us were too tired at this point to go trekking back in, so we told them to carry on. 15 minutes later I get another call. They are down walking along the main road....somehow. I’m not sure how they ended up all the way down there, but we were all glad that the excursion was over, and didn’t result in another overnight clinic on hypothermia.

All things considered, the trip was awesome. I would recommend leaving before 3pm, bringing more beer than we did,packing some really good food and a beach towel. Bring your camera and take a lot of pictures, this place is like being paparazzi outside a nightclub in Hollywood, only you can’t sell your pics to TMZ, but you can enter them in HalifaxTrails.ca’s photo of the month contest!

Fishing. Almost.

2009-04-08T14:48:00.004-03:00

On Saturday (April 4) I went out on my first fishing trip of the season with my brother and my 2 year old nephew. I spent a while rigging up the rod which I had bought not too long ago, in anticipation of a productive upcomming season. With the rod and tackle box all geared up, I headed out to purchase a license (25 dollars)from a local store, and the fish could now officially tremble in terror. As my brother and I pulled up to a spot on the side of the road in Beaverbank, we got on our rubber boots and headed into the woods towards the Beaverbank River. It was a spot we hadn't been before, and immediately we saw something that was a very unfamiliar sight... to Nova Scotia in general. As we walked a few minutes into the woods, we began to see water, this water, however, was IN the woods. Seeing as how we were in Nova Scotia and not the Florida Everglades, this was a very strange sight. We looked around, puzzled, with my nephew wondering if we were being watched by crocodiles. I looked around, and quickly realized the river had taken over the woods, and there was no way we could even get near the river in our knee high rubber boots. I glanced around, maybe I could just grab a fish that was laying around in the woods! That would be a great first catch. After a few minutes of "fishing" we were unsuccessful, and we turned back in disapointment. To say that we were surprised that we didn't catch any fish would be a lie, but to say we were surprised we didn't catch any fish because we were confronted by the Beaverbank Everglades, was definately true. The trip allowed me to put a new contributing factor to my list of why my fishing expeditions always end up in complete failure.

Men Vs. Wild

2009-03-31T14:18:00.010-03:00

My most recent outdoor excursion took place last weekend (March 21) in Enfield. Two friends and I had planned this trip for a week. The trip was to a very basic hunting camp in the middle of nowhere. The variables included in this trip were numerous and added a large element of the unknown to our adventure. The camp is located on logging land, and as such, may have joined its surrounding gifts from god in no longer existing. The hike was estimated to be about 15k, or about 3 hours, which made the prospect of our destination being a large clear cut not very appealing, but adventurous nonetheless.

We set out with basic supplies. Backpack including some extra warm clothes, food, water, fire starting gear, sleeping bag, liquor and other essentials. My pack wasn't as light as I would have liked for a 3 hour hike, but then again what I would have liked was to have a pack that defied Newton's Law, and only a couple of federal ones.

I had planned a route through the use of Google Maps, as well as conferencing with my brother who took me to the camp years ago. All was well planned, and supplemented with my extensive navigation skills which came in the form of a GPS system. With my Ziploc bag full of google maps, and the coordinates of the camp punched into my GPS, we were set.

We entered the trail head at about 2:30pm, as prior commitments by one of us dictated this departure time. This was only now just a slight concern, as daylight savings time had kicked in recently, and we had that fact tucked into our back pocket.... as well as our map. If this had been the beginning to a horror movie, organ music would have begun playing, with an appropriate camera zoom into the back pocket containing the Ziploc bag full of maps.

After a tough 5 minute climb, we opted to take a well deserved break to get our bearings. Just as I figured, we had already walked a good half kilometer of our 15. Maybe we should cut this break short, I eventually figure, and we head out. "Do you have that map" I ask. "Yep, right here" my friend says, while confidently patting his back pants pocket providing a "you can kiss this for asking" emphasis. I think to myself that maybe that isn't the best spot for it, but this thought got about as much attention as we did from one of the many 4-wheelers that almost ran us over.

After another 15 minutes of walking, we reach a fork in the road, so we call for the map. The map that is no longer in the back pocket. The map that is causing increasing amounts of concern. The map that is now lost. "Where the hell is the map?! Oh my god, don't tell me...." accompanied by other barrages, our map carrier is now the most hated man in Enfield.

After a 20 minute zig-zag search pattern jog, our map carrier returns, with no map. Decision time. Do we go on, with no map, and only GPS coordinates and my recollection of what the maps looked like? I had told the others to look at the map before we started, so we wouldn't just be relying on my interpretations. You can guess that they did not do so, and you'd be correct. So, 3 young men in unfamiliar woods, looking for a destination that may no longer exist are faced with a decision. The decision came fairly easily: keep going.

While the smart thing may have been to turn back and try again another day, the smell of adventure had begun to increase exponentially, and spurred us into the unknown. As we hiked on, our fast pace matching the setting pace of the sun, we came to a crossroads, an area that was not familiar to me from the map, and where a decision had to be made, fast, before the sun went down. I picked up my cell phone, and called my brother, as a desperate lifeline call on a million dollar "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire" question. "Which way do we go?" the conversation is as quick and to the point. We decide to head to the right and follow power lines, looking for a place to cross over to the left. We walk for a half hour, with the sun already set, and the radiating beams are all that remain of our hope. We are definitely going the wrong way, and we are 2 hours into the woods. Our adventure has come to it's turning point, and as our denial of the inevitable wears off, we quickly set out to find a good spot to camp out.

As we find our spot, just off of a logging road, the sun is now gone, and it is getting cold. Communicating telepathically now, we all head out to gather up fire wood. We converge on a spot, and start piling it on as if it were the fireplace in our living room. We throw a match on it, and there we have it, some smoke. After the smoke dies off, we are left with a wet pile of branches and 3 men who aren't sure if the smoke is coming from the branches or their ears as their tired brains struggle to figure out how to start a fire. After a skillful application of curse words, and some emergency fire starting gear I had packed, we had a fire. Our spirits rose with the flames, and we began to think this was actually going to be pretty nice night. A quick look at the stars, and the beer and rum in our backpacks instantly renewed our spirits. As I went around collecting pine bows to place underneath our sleeping bags, the fire began to go out. The large pile of small branches did not last even a fraction as long as planned. Spirits take a dive, and we realize this fire is going to be a lot more work than the one we sit infront of at Christmas drinking eggnog. With no axe, and no energy to use one, we are limited to finding dead wood that we can snap off. Normally on my hikes, half of the wood I see is dead, and I always think to myself what a shame it is, but on this occasion, we were in the middle of the healthiest forest on the face of the earth. Every tree was young, fresh, healthy, hydrated.... everything that we were not, at the moment.

The long hike had taken its toll on all of us. No one had the energy to use our Canadian tire flashlights to go searching around the dark woods for a small amount of dead wood. One of my friends had an army issued arctic sleeping bag, and he was quickly asleep. His snoring, combined with the bitter cold, and our "Dora The Explorer" brand sleeping bags ensured that the two of us remaining would not have an enjoyable night. As I broke out the rum, and my emergency blanket, I realized my best option was to stay awake all night, gathering firewood and staying as close to the fire as possible without becoming a part of it. I turned my portable speakers and Ipod on, to help distract myself from the situation (and ward off all of the hungry wolves that were encircling us in my imagination). As I took a moment to enjoy, I laid back and took in the amazingly vibrant night sky. The other two were awake at this time, enjoying a beer, chilled naturally. We sat there, quietly, attempting to enjoy the evening, when we hear a crunching noise, the same crunching noise you make when you walk through hard packed snow, a noise we were very familiar with, as we had been making it all day. As the noise grew, we became silent, to the point of collectively holding our breath. "We're 3 hours into the woods in the middle of nowhere right?" I ask myself. I check my watch, 1 am. I do some quick calculations in my head and determine that this situation is extremely frightening. "Hello!?" one of my friends says, as I mentally prepare myself. No response, the noise continues. "Hello, who's there?" he yells again, as I reach for my knife and prepare an evacuation plan into the woods, where I will hide until we find out who this madman is. Just as I'm about to jump into the woods, the noise stops. Contrary to being a relief, this ruins my plans as I wonder where the hell this person has gone, and what the hell we should do. Then it clicks, the Ipod, the speakers, there was no music playing during this time. I whisper "rewind to the end of that song". Sure enough, it is the end of a song, an outro obviously designed as a cruel joke for people stuck in the middle of the snowy woods 1 am.

After we all breathe a sigh of relief, we continue with our roles. One quickly reverts to snoring, the other to shivering, and me to tending the fire like it is the last one I will ever see. Soon enough, the moon makes its first appearance. It peaks over the horizon in a very bright crescent. It was an interesting sight I had not seen before and is a hard one to process during a bout of hypothermia. I could tell without looking at my watch that the sun was soon to follow. As morning arrived, the sense of relief was quickly challenged by the coat of ice that now covered everything. This was the coldest point of our adventure. We built the fire to its largest point, and put some food in our tin can to cook as we thawed out our boots and laces. Once we were warmed enough to the point where movement would not risk shattering our bones, we headed back out.

The trip out seemed to take us half as long, as our pace was double that of the way in. When we reached the car, the adventure was complete. This must be what it feels like to finish a marathon in Siberia. The adventure left us with a renewed sense of accomplishment, and a large list of things not to do. Lessons learned: bring a tent, a good sleeping bag, earplugs, and do not put your map in the back of your Calvin Klein's, the woods seem to find it insulting.