I try

24 02 2015

Tick tock goes the clock.

The Vancouver Sun Run is not getting further away, and I’ve been trying to keep up some sort of training regime. Gym a few times a week; running the rest of it; a hike at the weekend…

I did a half-decent hike on Saturday, but have been a bit lazy since then. Even my nagging FitBit hasn’t been successful in breaking my fug. I’ve been a bit low emotionally lately and that never helps with motivation.

Today though, I managed to cajole myself out for a run. As usual, I put my iPod on random and set off into the night. As I’ve mentioned a few times, there is often a single song that sticks with me as particularly memorable out of the 10 or so that play during my circuit. This time though, I noticed just how many of the tunes were about lost loves, or other forms of self pity. It could of course just be one of those weird statistical things, or it might be a reflection of the type of music I am drawn to.

The song that stood out for me tonight was the lovely Macy Gray and “I try”.

I try to say goodbye and I choke
Try to walk away and I stumble
Though I try to hide it, it’s clear
My world crumbles when you are not here

Nice steady beat though, I shaved almost 5 minutes off my circuit time which was a shock. I’ve been favouring the gym of late and didn’t think my road speed would have been maintained. Seems I was wrong. Now if only I could lose some of the excess weight I’d be quids in…

Trawling youtube to find the official Macy Gray video, I came across Natalie Imbruglia and Alanis Morissette videos. Interesting. They are both frequent visitors to my iPod, so I plainly fit whatever algorithm youtube is using for “if you like this, you’d probably also like…”.

So, as a bonus today, I bring you one of my favourite Alanis tracks – “Everything”. Any song that can begin with I can be an asshole of the grandest kind is right up my street.

I love the self-effacing timbre of much of her music, and the celebration that someone can love you despite everything you are…. or perhaps even because of it.

You see everything, you see every part
You see all my light and you love my dark
You dig everything of which I’m ashamed
There’s not anything to which you can’t relate
And you’re still here

Faith in humanity

22 02 2015

I’m not big on religion. Any religion. At some level, it’s another name for politics and attempting to control the masses.

Faith though – I can respect that.

Faith is about what one believes. Religion is about people telling you the right way to do that. This story from Norway was lovely. A piece of news about individual expressions of faith.

Coexisting. Can’t beat that, in my view… nicely done, whatever label you choose to wear.

More than 1,000 Muslims form human shield around Oslo synagogue.


Petgill Lake

22 02 2015

Busy day yesterday.

First born was at the tail end of her reading week from Waterloo and seemed to be reasonably recovered from her first outing up The Chief last weekend. In celebration she and our youngest joined Mr & Mrs E on a trip to Petgill Lake.

The trailhead is near Murrin Provincial Park – just north of Britannia Beach on the Sea to Sky highway. The various hike websites all agree it’s about 5.5km each way and takes about 5hours or so round trip.

However, they all make light of the fact that the trailhead is on the opposite side of one of the most dangerous stretches of the most dangerous highway in BC! By the time all four of us had safely made it to the eastern side of the highway, I was pretty much ready to go home. We’d learn later though that it was actually comparatively quiet on the highway. It was much worse crossing it on the way back.

The trailhead itself is an unassuming little track heading into the undergrowth and I can see how several people had reported it as easy to miss. Though I’d taken the precaution of placing a waypoint in my Garmin to be on the safe side, we actually had no problem finding it. The pile of empty beer cans helped.

The trail starts off reasonably steeply, but still quite definitely a track, narrow though it is. Within a few metres though, you are into full on scrambling, and I have to say it was not a particularly pleasant start. It’s not overly difficult or anything, but slimy moss on oozing granite rock is not a particularly pleasant proposition. After a reasonably steep climb though you’re back onto normal woodland trails, and are rewarded for the effort with a rock outcrop serving as a viewpoint out over Howe Sound.

View over Howe Sound

View over Howe Sound

Whilst we were having a short breather, a group of four 30-somethings came down the trail. Initially I was impressed and a little surprised. It was only about 10:30am by this time and for them to be almost back to the car-park must have meant an early start since they didn’t seem to have camping gear. One of the guys seemed a little under-dressed too in only trainers and T-shirt/shorts. The two ladies seemed to be of the antipodean persuasion and much better prepared to be out on the hills. Mr T-shirt asked if we had walked the trail before, and I replied in the negative. I was a little taken aback when he said that there was a  logging road and they’d turned back because it seemed to be active. The trail is closed Monday to Friday to avoid conflicts between the logging operation and the general public. A lone hiker is no match for a fully loaded logging truck. I asked him to clarify though, and it was their choice to return, they hadn’t actually been turned back by logging staff.

Though we hadn’t walked this trail before, we had researched it and I was aware that there was a stretch of a couple of kilometres of logging road we needed to follow. The fact that these guys were spooked when they came across it seemed to indicate that they were far from well prepared. Probably safer they turned back when they did, and thankfully they didn’t ask if they could tag along with us. We met two other parties during the day. One young couple up near the lake itself and an older couple walking their terrier like it was just a stroll in the park. They too seemed to be ill prepared and under-dressed for the conditions, but at least seemed to know where they were going.

This is one of those “uphill – both ways” kinds of hikes. It’s about 5.5km each way, as I mentioned and it’s a steady climb all the way. In practice there’s a bit of contouring around a few hills, but because this happens in heavily wooded terrain, you’re not really aware of it.

After a while we came to a rock outcrop that offered a view northwards towards Squamish.

Howe Sound

Howe Sound towards Squamish

The steepest part (after the initial scramble) is on the logging road itself, so it’s just a slog up the muddy track. As we came through the woods to the road, there’s a definite change in the aura of the place. You move from the usual tranquil woodland vibe to this sense of despair and destruction. Logging is a prime resource for BC, but the up-close consequences of the industry are quite heart-breaking. The trail is closed Monday to Friday because of the trucks and other traffic on the logging road, but despite the old signage and assurances that the logging isn’t current, there was still the unmistakeable sound of a lone chainsaw somewhere not too distant, interspersed with the harrowing thud of another IKEA table in the making. I suspect this chainsaw is what had scared off the others, rather than any actual indication of traffic on the road. Anyway, as we descended to the road, we kept a leery eye open for any unexpected trucks. Thankfully there was none.

Descent to the logging road

Descent to the logging road

The logging road was a stark reminder of the brute strength mankind can bring to bear on issues of commerce. There were various items of heavy machinery parked up for the weekend, and the ever present buzz/whomp as the unseen feller systematically moved trees from the vertical to the horizontal. Some sections of the road were quite steep and it was amazing to imagine fully loaded log trucks climbing their way up the unmade track. We spotted a series of whimsical signs that appeared to be there to help the trucks figure out where they were in the relatively monotonous roadway. The first we saw was called “Bark and Bite” with a face of a cartoon bulldog. Out of context as it was at that point, we thought it may be a warning of guard dogs. This annoyed me as we were on a public right of way. I felt a little silly when we passed “Old Boot Hill” in the same style.

We missed the trail leaving the logging road by a hundred metres or so, but thankfully the GPS helped us find the rather discreet trail back into the woods. Tranquillity immediately re-descended and the calming effect of being swaddled in nature was palpable.

The lake itself was small and very pretty. It was overseen by a huge peak, which a trail called Goat Ridge. Looking at maps, this seems to be a range which leads East to SkyPilot. As we bundled up against the suddenly chill air, a young guy appeared from the forest with a bundle of wood under his arm. It seems he’d left his girlfriend further back on the trail while he came ahead to cook sausages on the firepit by the lake. After we’d finished our own lunch and headed back, it was still a good while before we met her on the trail. I hope the bangers weren’t burnt!

Petgill Lake

Petgill Lake

As we headed back to the logging road we met the older couple with their terrier. They were lightly dressed in training shoes and no heavy clothing. Despite the glorious sunshine it was still quite chilly by the lake, but they seemed to know where they were going, at least.

The hike back seemed to have an unexpected number of “up” bits, considering it had appeared to be up all the way to the lake. Now familiar with the route though, the time passed quickly and we were scrambling back down the rocks to the road before we knew it. Crossing the highway was not pleasant, and the increase in traffic volume was quite marked. As was the increase in average speed!

Did I enjoy it? Yes – the lake is a lovely spot in an idyllic setting. Would I go again… probably not. The logging enterprise was quite heartbreaking in its ferocity, and the couple of km on the logging road left a bit of a bad taste.

Google Earth: Murrin to Petgill Lake

Google Earth: Murrin to Petgill Lake

Value to the buyer

22 02 2015

So the other day I had an industrial accident.

Nothing as grandiose as a chemical spill or a Simpsons-like radioactive incident. No – I broke my glasses. I was taking part in a training session with the rest of the Product Management team and doing my bit by carrying an 8’x4′ sheet of 3mm Sintra PVC above my head to avoid knocking over anything in the machine lab. As I slid it off my head onto the printer’s flatbed, the edge caught the arm of my glasses and flipped them onto the concrete floor. Naturally, by the same law of physics that requires toast to land butter-side down, one of the arms snapped making the glasses unusable, despite the lenses themselves being remarkably unscathed.

I consider myself somewhat resourceful, and luckily I was in a laboratory setting which amongst other things offered a broad selection of tapes to select a temporary fix from. I began with some low-tack blue tape, but decided this was a little too geeky given my age and professional position. It wasn’t quite the “full-on” geek nose bridge repair look, but blue tape was far from discreet. I’m just not Hipster enough to carry it off any more. In the end I found some “invisible” tape (it was hard to spot!) with which to affect repairs, and this extra level of discretion put me on for a day or so.

I took a trip out to Langley to enquire at Costco whether they could repair or replace the broken arm. I was even hopeful they might still be under warranty since I’d only had them a few months. Well… about that: it turns out I’d actually bought them 3 years ago, and they were well and truly out of production, let alone warranty. Doesn’t time fly?! These glasses were part of my slow acceptance of the march of time and my first “progressives” – the modern equivalent of bifocals, offering graduated focal length rather than just the traditional far/reading distances. They’re also UV sensitive so I don’t need to bother carrying separate sunglasses around. Anyway, the point is that they were far from cheap (almost twice the cost of my first car, if memory serves) and I was very loathe to replace them if a repair could be had.

Sensing that there was little to no chance that I was going to be persuaded to buy some new frames/lenses, the guy in Costco suggested I try a repair shop all the way out in Burnaby. Though a genuine attempt at being helpful, I didn’t really expect to be anywhere near Burnaby in the foreseeable future and filed the offered business card away. Yesterday however saw me hiking up near Squamish and finishing sufficiently early in the afternoon to be able to detour via Burnaby on the way home.

Having first complimented me on my mad taping skills, the receptionist took the glasses out to the back room for the technician to proffer an opinion regarding a permanent remedy. Turns out that they couldn’t fix the plastic nor replace the entire arms. The suggestion was some major mechanical surgery involving laser welding and replacing parts of the frame, adding new hinges and firmware upgrades. OK – maybe not the last one, but the rest was real. Price: $90, but not until Tuesday. Seeing my face drain of colour at the price, I was assured that the $90 included “free” replacement nose pads. That’s those tiny bits of plastic that stop your glasses sliding off your nose. Woop-di-doo!

I said I’d think about it, and beat a hasty retreat for the door. The next customer – an elderly gentleman – had come in to ask for a replacement screw for his own glasses, and I wondered if his credit rating would cover the gold/platinum screw he was about to be offered.

As I drove home, I pondered the issue. $90 was a chunk of change, but still less than 20% of the price of a replacement pair of glasses, given the transition light sensitive material and the progressive lenses. Then the fixer in me woke up and I realised that the only reason I’d been able to affect such a reasonable temporary fix with a small piece of tape was that the break was overlaid by a steel band as part of the aesthetics of the frame design. Plastic and stainless steel were both good candidates for cyanoacrylate adhesive (Super-glue/Krazy glue), so I made a small detour on the way home and paid a whopping $1.25 for a pack of 4 1g tubes of glue at the local dollar store. The damn stuff only lasts a month after you open it anyway, so 4 1g tubes might actually last a bit longer than a single 3g tube which was the same price. I wonder if anyone ever gets to fix more than one thing with a single tube anyway!

So, a Q-tip dipped in methyl hydrate (“meths” in the UK) – which I keep as fuel for my Trangia camping stove – worked well to degrease and generally prepare the plastic and metal; a couple of drops of the glue applied carefully to the broken surfaces and the surrounding metal bar; and finally a clothes peg to apply pressure until it had properly set… and voila!

Of course, not everyone thinks having a clothes peg stuck on the side of your face is a fashionable look, but I think I can carry it off.

On the transfer of social debt

20 02 2015

Most lunchtimes, I take a brisk walk around a local playing field/park as a deliberate adjunct to my walk to the local café where I dine. Once at the café, I read around 20 pages of my current book, whilst partaking in one of a rotating selection of some lovely home- (well café-) made soups. If you’re interested, today’s was cream of butternut squash. Actually it was cream of butternut squash even if you weren’t interested. Such are the rules of physics.

Anyway, today is a “Pro D” day for many school districts, which basically means the teachers union negotiated a day off for “professional development”. This is where the teachers, instead of transferring learning to their students, are required to attend some course or other themselves, such as “mindfulness” or “how to crush the very soul of your young charges”. The kids however get a day off, and several of them were entertaining themselves in the fresh air in the park. Wonders will never cease! Maybe their TV was broken or something.

Anyway, as I purposefully trudged the path through the park, a couple of kids wobbled towards me on their bikes, and I noticed their father following on foot. He had a plastic carrier bag in his hand, and as the angle of view changed, I saw there was another carrier bag lying on the path just behind him. I asked if it was his, and whether he’d dropped it.
I’m helpful like that.
He looked a little puzzled, glanced back at the bag which he must just have passed himself, and confirmed that no, it wasn’t his.

Of course now, I had inherently accepted responsibility for this bag. He had been happy enough to ignore its littering existence as he passed it. So much so, that he had to look back to see which bag I was referring to. His conscience was clean because the bag simply had not existed when he himself passed it. I however, in my concern for a fellow citizen’s potential loss had quite explicitly acknowledged the presence of the bag. It was there now. Possibly left by Heisenberg’s cat, but plainly there for all to see – except this now departed father. Not that I’d have ignored it had the philosophical encounter not occurred, but now I truly had only one option – to pick it up and place it in an appropriate rubbish bin.

As I proceeded down the path in the bright lunchtime sun, I became aware of the shadow being cast by the bag. It seemed to have some gunk stuck to the outside – perhaps a leaf or something. As I turned the bag and looked down, I saw that the gunk was in actuality a dead mouse. The bag contained (amongst some other odd items) a mouse-trap. The mouse itself was attached in the usual manner (by a spring-loaded wire frame firmly planted across the back of its skull), but via a hole in the bag. It itself was on the outside.

I am still pondering this enigma, but think it most likely a crow had pecked its way through the bag to get at the fresh mousy nibbles within. Anyway, the point is that I was now carrying a dead mouse flapping gaily on the outside of a carrier bag in a park frequented by young kids who these days seem to be more delicate than in times of yore.
Suffice it to say that by some deft bag twizzling, I managed to carry the rodent all the way to a bin without having any little’uns vomit on my work shoes. The rubbish bin, when I finally found it, was slightly alarmingly of the bear-proof variety! And yet so close to IKEA…
Perhaps the crows will try their luck elsewhere.

I matter, allegedly

20 02 2015

Easy to forget our own self-worth when you’re busy meeting expectations of others. Especially the unspoken, self-perceived expectations that might not even exist. They’re the hardest to meet…

The “I MATTER” Motto | Psychology Today.

Yay Ruby Wax

19 02 2015

Big fan of Ruby Wax. She was involved in a lot of UK comedy when I still lived there. Born in Illinois, she’s now a naturalised Brit. She began her acting career in Sheffield of all places and has had a long-standing writing/directing partnership with Alan (Snape) Rickman. She was also closely involved in the brilliant Ab Fab series.

Anyway, she’s had some tough struggles with depression along the way, and tackled it quite pragmatically… by learning how the brain fundamentally works, then changing it. Her willingness to offer her face in advertising for a mental health charity “outed” her to the public, so she took the situation and owned it.

A charity put her face on a poster and told all of London her secret. How would you have handled it?.

Her sarcasm in the video belies how long she’s lived in the UK. 🙂