I hope you enjoy my blog, a collection of articles and thoughts regarding my interests. I'm a married father of two that loves to write about gliding, hunting, fishing, camping and any outdoor passion. Oh yah, I'm a quadriplegic. I hope this is informative to some, entertaining to others, and interesting to all. Let me know what you think. If you'd like an article for your publication, I've got words I haven't even used yet!
The calendar said spring arrived 5 weeks ago, Global Warming said spring arrived 7 weeks ago, I say spring is coming soon maybe. Summer is short here (I hear it falls on a Tuesday this year), so we don't want to waste any of it!
Fly-fishing/Ice-fishing is a uniquely Canadian sport. Where else would you cast a bug into an opening in an ice-covered lake, trying to convince a normally-intelligent Rainbow Trout that this is a plausible natural occurrence. Yesterday was a great day to give it a whirl, what a blast!
Ah summertime! The time us Canucks enjoy the things in life that the rest of the world brags about all winter on Facebook! There's camping in the mountains, fly-fishing, hiking, flying gliders, beautiful sunsets on the deck with the aroma of the bar-b-que. Here it is, April, the time that the grass starts growing, the flowers pop and the world comes to life.
I emerge from the bedroom this morning, nicely coiffed with fresh coffee steaming in cup. I arrive at my computer desk with smile on face, gaze out the window at the gorgeous springtime ... wtf? ... the window's fogged ... no ... wait ... it's friggin snow! The wind is howling, snow is a foot deep, the grass is all buried again! A quick check of the calendar reveals that yes, it is April, but snow? Blizzard? A glance around the room and there it is, my fly-rod in the corner, waiting patiently, not in any hurry to get to work.
I find a video in the far corner of my computer and dust it off. It was taken last summer for just such an occasion! While camping in the mountains, we mounted a camera on my hat (imagine that, it's hard enough for us gimps to look cool let alone letting somebody strap a camera on our head), and I travelled a 17min loop down nature trails. I now sit and watch the video with steaming coffee and smug grin, daydreaming about summer weather that may make a guest appearance some day. Isn't global warming great?
A quick glance to the right reveals the glider turning towards you. You're at 8,000 feet near the Livingston Range just North of Cowley Alberta. You can see the mountains, lakes, rivers, towns and roads far below. The two gliders circle inside the thermal. The pilots have their heads on 'swivel', being careful to keep each other in sight to prevent a midair collision.
"Ok, this thermal is dyin', let's carry on," says Dwayne from Grande Prairie.
"Sounds good," I reply as we both roll our gliders level, retract the flaps, and head out to the Southeast.
"When was this?" you might ask.
"Last evening." sez I.
"Where?" you reply, thinking that there's no gliding in The Great White North in February ... eh.
"At home,"
"You been smokin' or drinkin'?"
"Nope, been flyin" I reply.
"Bull Sh--," you say, not watching your language very well I might add.
My bobber disappears below the clear blue waves, and stays under. "I wonder what bit this time?" I say.
I reel up the slack in my line as quick as I can (us quads take forever to do this, especially in a hurry) and when it is almost tight I give the rod a sharp tug upward. I feel the thud (uh-oh) as the line tightens on something REAL solid, and the hook is sunk deep into whatever bit it. Then I see a large splash in the water, and a cloud of silt as the fish takes off from left to right in about 3 feet of water. The line starts peeling off my reel at an incredible rate.
Winter has hit early here in Alberta Canada, but November is the time of deer hunting. Luckily for me I have a buddy like David Loshny. If I ever lose the enthusiasm to hunt, I only need to observe the work he is willing to do to include me in the hunt ... thanks Dave!
The other day the phone rings, "Two p.m. work?"
"Yeppers!" I reply, knowing that this is the call to hunt.
It was cold and windy, and while us quads are cold-blooded, we installed the arctic-strength fur-lined (and of course mega-stylish ... NOT!) "block-heater" and off we went.
"We should check our rifles" Dave said.
"Yep," I reply, "I think my rifle has been dropped, better check."
You might think that a 300 Winchester Magnum rifle is a little large for a quadriplegic, but this one behaves itself quite nicely. Pud at the Bashaw Sport Shop helped me choose a Browning Bar semi-automatic, which has reduced recoil over bolt action rifles. Then he installed a muzzle-brake, and my 300 mag now kicks like it's a 6mm!
We set up in a field to shoot at 100yds. Even though it was quite gusty and cold, we managed to get a few shots off. I pull the trigger by clenching on a clothspin-type device, and the gun is held by a rack that has been redesigned a few times over the last 20 years!
After 3 shots I was out by about 4 inches, confirming that being dropped had affected the accuracy! A few adjustments later and I was 2 inches high at 100yds, great for hunting! Another Super Day with Dave!
Ok, I'm no Felix Baumgartner, you
know ... the guy that jumped from a balloon capsule over 125,000 feet
up. We were watching (along with the appropriate
oohs and aahs) the Red Bull stunt live the other day, when
my friend casually strolls behind me and nonchalantly says, “With
all the safeties built into that thing, you going kayaking is
probably more dangerous.”
I had to laugh, as the memory of my
ill-fated adventure came back, and acknowledge that he may be right.
Funny how our brain will block out life's embarrassing moments, heck
I'd forgotten (or at least kept quiet about) this incident until the
video camera was unloaded months later.
It was last spring, we were all tired
of the winter doldrums and thoughts of summertime fun were
infiltrating the old puzzler. As if on cue an email shows up that
grabbed my attention ... Disabled Kayaking.
My wife and I had discussed this topic
before, and watched Youtube videos on the subject, and I had her
convinced that it was safe enough (I mean, how dangerous could it
be?).
In replying to the email I asked all
the important questions:
“Are you set up for this? Have you
handled people with disabilities before?”
Well, the blog has ground to a
temporary halt this summer. Summer is usually the time that we get
out and do things, and try to find stuff that is worthy of writing
about. Unfortunately, lately that quest became seemingly very
unimportant in the scheme of life. When something like this happens
in your life, it really throws your perception of what really is a
biggee, and what isn't.
My mother was diagnosed with breast
cancer in the spring. It seemed like bad news after bad news
followed. I'll never forget the look on her face when she received
the call that there was nothing that the doctors could do and that
treatments would be ended. It felt like all of the air was sucked out
of the room. Mom's spirit was totally deflated after the call, and
she stared off into space. She had recently been having the time of
her life, playing music and travelling with Lloyd, and they had so
many future fun adventures planned. It all seemed overwhelmingly
unfair. Fortunately we live close by and were able to spend lots of
time with her those last months. Mom grew weaker and weaker, and near
the end of July, with Lloyd faithfully at her side, her battle was
over. Words will never adequately describe the hole that is left in
our lives. We were left totally numb. It felt like the months after
breaking my neck, a low point is reached beyond which more bad news
means nothing, you've reached your limit. Needless to say, things
that used to be a big deal no longer are. All of the normal fun
things seem unimportant, and therefore unappealing. Hence I have very
little cool and fun stuff to write about. We have done very little
camping, no flying since June, not even any fishing yet. I know from
past experience that this will pass, and my friends and family have
been so great at helping us to get back to (the new) normal. Mom will
be sorely missed, but we must remember that there was a lot more to
her life than the last few months of sickness. She had many years of
health and happiness, a lot of exciting adventures, and was loved by
so many people. We must say goodbye for now, but we know that it is
only for now.
Goodbye Mom.
Mom's passing reminded me of a story I
wrote after my father passed away six years ago, I hope he built his
cabin in paradise.
