Mystic Beach Camping

Last weekend, Adrienne and I packed up her little car with sleeping bags, backpacks, enough food to feed a small army, and her big black dog, Dig.

We drove west of Victoria for a couple hours... past Sooke and Jordan River... Dig stood with his nose pressed up to the crack in the window the entire way, snorting and snuffling in the new smells.

At China Beach, a popular campground, we parked the car and unloaded half our gear. Mystic Beach is 2.5km down a rooty / muddy / up-sie downsie trail. But Adrienne insisted it was well worth it. We had to make two trips for the gear... in total, a good two hours of hiking.

Was it worth it, you ask?

Yes. Most definitely.

We set up our tent in a small clearing just off the beach. The day-visitors were clearing out by the time we settled at our campfire with the essentals: wine (a bottle all to myself!! WINO ALERT), bananna-marshmallow s'mores, and of course some good gossip magazines :)

We watched the sunset and lamented about how hard it is to find dry wood on the west coast.... when I noticed a rugged looking guy trudging up the beach. I nudged Adrienne: "Who's that guy?"

Turns out it was Adrienne's friend, and were we ever glad to see him. He set down his big backpack and started pulling out logs of wood! There is such a thing as a firewood fairy!!

Nothin' beats a good roaring fire!

It was so cool to fall asleep to the crashing waves, which were not more than forty feet from our tent door!

In the morning we fried up some bacon!

A curious seal watched us... maybe he wanted a taste?

Dig the dog loves the water. LOVES IT. He also loves fetching and will bring the ball/stick back to you every single time.

We threw him the stick just as a large of a wave was coming into shore....

And boy did he run like crazy to get away from it!

Baby It's Cold Outside

Well, baby, it wasn't that cold outside. -10 is way, way better than the -32 of last year.

I ventured north to the Yukon to visit my family for Christmas.

And because the Yukon River missed me...

Ah home sweet home.

(not actually our house. Mum would never stand for chinking peeling from the cracks)

This is Mum & Dad's house & workshop -- drive way plowed courtesy of Dad. (click the image to view full size)

The yard is filled with chirping birds and nattering squirrels, which regularly visit Mum's feeders

The sun is always filtering through the trees at this time of year, casting long shadows and spectacular light.

Sophie the guard dog keeps an eye on the road, which gets busy twice a day: morning, when the ski hill opens, and 3:00 when the ski hill closes.

Otherwise the road is pretty quiet. Sometimes skidoos rip by, following the trails into the trees. I dusted off the cross country skis and went for a good jaunt up the trails too... and I saw not a soul.

There was much discussion about what to get Tanya for Christmas...

And much sleeping upon the animal-whisperer's lap.

 

This is the shop (well, a small fraction of it)

And this is Pop in his shop, about to paint some shelves. The work never stops in Pop's shop.

Speaking of work, that bearded fellow has been up to a lot of it... (and I don't mean Santa). This is the interior of a 80' x 150' shop Dad built for a guy in town. (I may have those measurements wrong).

This is just half of the shop -- there's another side about as big as this:

There were funny welding contraptions inside too... Cam would've been thrilled.

This here is a jiggerty-pig-wiggerty:

 The master surveys his work next to his noble steed.

What would Christmas be without Mum's deeelicious cooking??

 

Man, can Mum ever cook. I think she should move in with us. I'm sure Cam won't mind.

No, Sophie, this food is not for you.



It's so peaceful once that rascal Sophie is asleep. The cats can actually have a good wash in front of the fireplace.

Welding a Bicycle

Putting a bicycle together is like a giant jigsaw puzzle, only a lot hotter.

The craftman's work bench...

The craftman dabbing on some flux...

Forks, fork tips, dropouts.... these things have too many names. (layman's terms: they go on the front of the bike)

Our girls, Oxygen & Acetylene:

Smokin' HOTTT!