Kayaking Down The Saskatchewan River

My coworker Deb bought a kayak day trip at a fundraising auction a few months ago, and since  Dwight didn't want to go with her ("I ain't going in one of those coffins"), she invited me to go along.

Below are pictures from the trip.  It was a gorgeous Fall day, 21C, sunny with the occasional slight cloud cover.  We got into the kayaks around 10:15am, near Gardiner Dam, and kayaked 30+ kms all the way to Outlook, arriving there at 7pm.

I was done.  My arms were like noodles.  And my back, oh my, I sense some massage appointments coming up in the coming days and weeks...  

But what an experience!

Afterwards, Deb invited me to her home where Dwight had a meal all ready for us.  We had a good conversation over a lovely evening meal.  They're super hospitable.

Close to 10pm I made may way back to Saskatoon, arriving here after 11.

After having been on the west coast for 10 days, this was a good way to get back into the swing of things on the prairies.

A Little Piece Of Heaven

What a hike - today I saw a piece of heaven.

Eight of us met up shorty after 8am and took the 1 hour drive north to Garibaldi Lake.  And it was worth it, an appropriate "crowing" of a great two weeks spent on the west coast.

It took us 8 hours to hike around 22kms, but we took some well deserved breaks along the way to enjoy the company and the view.

Below are a few pics worth sharing... 

My favourite part of the hike is not necessarily teal-coloured Garibaldi lake and it's majestic surroundings, but rather, the meadows leading to it.  The pathways meander back and forth between flat and hilly areas with a smattering of douglas fir trees, before going on a final switch-back descent - yes, downhill, and now in a deep forested area - to the lake.  

And the view of Black Tusk is always awe-inspiring, inviting and challenging you to conquer it.  Inevitably, I, at least, end up saying to myself: "Next time..."

As always, Marty was the photographer par excellence with us.  Below, from left to right: Ruth, Benja, Marilu, Nancy, Anoush, Sanjit, cub, and Marty.

Once back in Vanvouver around 8, we went to eat some ramen noodles near Ruth and Marty's place.

It was my final day in Vancouver.  I hugged everyone good-bye, got into dad's SUV, and made my trip to Abbotsford where I'll spend my last evening on the west coast.

Family Trips: A Glue That Bonds

One of the things I really like about our family is that we love going on outings together and that we do it frequently.  This is a family tradition that goes way back to my childhood and probably earlier.  I have great memories of going to places like San Bernardino, Jaragua do Sul, Curitiba, Florianopolis, Buenos Aires, and Bariloche as a child.

By the time we immigrated to Canada most of us kids were older and independent so that we didn't do trips that seem as impressive as the earlier ones, but still, virtually every year we visit places like Penticton and Oliver.

These sort of trips are good for a number of reasons: they give us a break from our ordinary routines, they enable us to see places other than home, and they build familial relationships.  Trips are in a way kind of compass that guides us all to remain in the same orbit, lest we should each go off on our own way, out of reach and touch with each other.  In our mobile and hurried world that's without a doubt the way things would go.

But the unspoken of factor in all of these trips is that dad always pays for them, and that he'll continue to do so, indefinitely.  And he's never complained about this assumption - in fact, he insists it remain this way.  Once, a few years ago while on a family trip to Penticton, I annoyed him royally by paying for the hotel stay.  He immediately issued me a cheque in return, instructing me to deposit it, as family matters like these were his domain.

But the truth is that if mom and dad didn't continually encourage us to go on these trips and pay for them, it's highly unlikely we'd continue them.  And this is not because we'd rather stay at home and watch tv - we don't.  It's just because as sibblings - not to mention in-laws, nephews, and nieces - I don't know if we could all come together and compromise for the greater good.  Coordinating and agreeing on destinations and dates would be quite problematic.  Our parents, in this sense, are a sort of glue that bonds us.

Today's expression of this tradition to go on outings was a daytrip to Harrison Hotsprings.  It's been awhile since I've been to Harrison; I'd forgotten how beautiful and peaceful it is there.

Hugh In Saskatoon

Hugh has been in Saskatoon the past 3 days.  He's only the second friend to come and visit me since my move here; Sanjit was the first one.  Of course, my bro and his family were here last year, and my parents have come too...

On Tuesday night we went for Indian dinner buffet at Swadesh on 22nd Street.

On Wednesday we went to Capanna Pizzeria.  Here, a waitress blew us away with her friendly and talkative character.

And today we got up early in the morning and drove to Moose Jaw.  I had to do a pre-op there for my cheek surgery early next week, and after that we met up with John and Lamont for lunch at Bobby's.  The original plan was to head to Regina after lunch, but we enjoyed such a good converstaion around the table that we ended up staying in the Jaw until well after 4.  Before heading back home we went to Crescent Park and breathed in some fresh air.  Hugh read a book on the bench, and I took a much-needed nap on the lawn.

Tomorrow Hugh gets on a bus, off to Bruno for a spiritual retreat, and I head the opposite direction, west, to Cypress Hills on a camping trip with Eric.

Prairie Cathedrals

So a few days ago after finishing up at the monastery I crossed the highway to take a look at the cathedral that Muenster is known for.

The drive up to the church gave me a "church in the country feel" - dusty dirt road lined by trees on either side - and the cathedral itself was nice enough from the outside with a basic design (sadly, some of the siding was vinyl), but what really impressed me was the interior.

 

It wasn't as impressive as the cathedral in Gravelbourg (below), but still, it blew me away: a massive structure, "in the middle of nowhere" (the church in Gravelbourg seats 1000 and Gravelbourg itself only has about 1000 inhabitants; the church in Muenster is smaller, as is the town itself), with so much love, care, and effort invested in it.

I know very little about either of these towns or their spiritual histories, but I can't help but think that there must have been a thriving faith community present once.  The frescoes in particular point towards hours and hours of love labour.

And we, subsequent generations, have been left a lasting legacy by those who came before us.

The question that comes to mind is: What kind of a legacy are we leaving behind?

Daytrip To Monastery

After my recent breakup with Michelle, I felt the need today to get out of my house.  So I did.  I drove to Muenster, and visited a monastery.

I met an interesting priest there, Fr. Paul, and we had a good conversation.  After a few years of not really being in a heads pace to make my oblation and join a monastic community while living "outside the walls", today the thought of becoming an oblate resurfaced.  I will do some thinking and hopefully come back in a few months' time.

Here are some pictures I took of the monastery.

Daytrip To MJ

I went to MJ today, to visit some old friends.  Rick, Alison, and I went out for dinner.

Boy, healing takes time.  Poor Alison is struggling, having been chased out of Providence Place by a monster.  Rick, on the other hand, while retired and seemingly happy,  My own healing too is taking time.  Things are going well - so much positive in my life currently, what with a new job, new coworkers, new friends, a new house, a new church, a new worshiping community, and a new girlfriend - but I can't deny that my heart still aches from my experiences at my previous workplace.

God, continue to heal your broken children!

I also dropped by Lloyd and Judy's art gallery to say hello.  I had a good conversation and caught up on all the gossip in town.  Tha's MJ, everyone talks about each other.  But I spent some serious money too, buying two paintings which I will be my feature art in my living room walls.  

The first painting is a farming scene set in the prairies.  This painting highlights the simplicity and peacefulness of prairie life.  The second painting is of the west coast, probably Parksville.  It has ocean, a rocky beach, evergreens, mountains, and of course, clouds in the distance.

I connect strongly with both of these picture.  The first one because of where I live now, and because of the simple beauty the prairies communicate.  The small hut in the shed, the fence, and the overgrown path reminds me of the footprints of previous generations, and how life is always in flux.  The second picture touches me because I miss the west coast - the ocean, the rocky, log-strewn beaches, and the cloudy sunsets.  I kind of sehnsucht for the coast pervades me when I look at it.

A Daytrip To The Badlands

Watching the snow melt has been very good for my soul.  I knew it would be.

This morning, in celebration of Spring's arrival, I packed my backpack full of hiking gear, prepared a  sandwich, some fruits, and a litre of water, and got in my lovely Jetta, headed for Castle Butte, a clay "castle" in south-central Saskatchewan.

The drive was pleasant: 2 hours, mostly rolling hills, past Coronach, and to the area known as the Badlands.  The scenery is not sexy like the coast mountains, forests, or ocean, but it's beautiful and attractive in its own subtle way.  Beauty perhaps not expressed in terms of power and strength, but rather, gentleness and serenity.  Lovely hills and valleys.  Lakes.  Clouds with personality and character unseen and unknown in coastal places.

And upon arrival at the Badlands, again, another form of beauty.  Vast.  Immense.  Present.

Once near the Butte, I parked my car, and went for a hike, first to the Butte, then on along the dirt road.  I noticed that unlike in BC where tourism is everywhere - it's part and parcel of daily life in many places - today I felt that perhaps it was a novelty, for people to see someone walking around with a pack on his back.

The prime example of this was when, while walking, the owner of the property (Castle Butte is located on private property, another thing which baffles me) stopped her truck and asked me what I was doing.  Ummmm .. hiking?

Anyways, I did in the end hike about 7kms.  It felt so good.  Refreshing.  Invigorating.  I ate my lunch on top of a hill, overlooking the endless valley.  I prayed and read my Bible. 

Thick, dark clouds eventually rolled in and threatened to open up their vast water vaults, so I got up and began my journey back to the car.  It did rain on my way back, but only for a very short period of time, probably not even 10 minutes.  Luckily for me, the vaults of heaven did not open fully.  The clouds rolled on, saving their liquid blessings for some other place.

On my way back home I stopped at a few places to take more pictures.  More lakes.  More valleys.  More green.  I don't seem to get tired of taking pictures.

I got home near 7pm.  It was still warm and sunny outside.  Spring is definitely here.  I can't wait for summer.