Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2012-22

---

IN THIS ISSUE

• Kate Brookfield continues her reminiscences about their life in India
• Frank Pollock begins a story about hiking the West Coast Trail
• Catherine Green forwards some clever word definitions
• Betty Audet sends a poem about counting one´s blessings
• Catherine Nesbitt quotes a book about regrets
• Sites are recommended by Betty Audet, Bruce Galway, Catherine Green, Don Henderson, Gerrit deLeeuw, and Pat Moore

Kate Brookfield continues her description of

OUR HOME IN CHANDIGARH

As explained, the amenities in the house we were given were very primitive at first. The house had been empty for eight months and nature had moved in. My husband´s colleague who invited us to Chandigarh kept telling us that the house was going to be properly furnished and equipped, but nothing happened.

One day, after we had been there about two months, we were awakened early by a lot of noise outside the house. When I went out on the upstairs balcony, I saw a huge crowd of people outside our house. Many had come on bicycles and there was a sea of bicycles piled against the wall.

When I opened the door, people poured in, all carrying something. They had all come at the same time to "fix" the house. I have never seen so many people and so much work done on the spot in one day!

Trestles were set up and workmen were busy sawing planks and wooden poles, while others painted or varnished the cut wood. The poles were for curtain rods and skirting boards. Another worker had yards of material which he cut, and another with a sewing machine on the floor was hemming the cut material. Large rings were sewn by hand onto the material. Other workers nailed brackets above the windows. In no time at all, all the windows in the house were draped with curtains, plus another curtain between the dining area and the living room. A huge carpet was brought in and put on the floor in the living room.

Walls were whitewashed and doors painted. A Western toilet was sitting on the path for the most of the day, but eventually, it was brought in and installed. A hot water tank was brought in with great difficulty. The kitchen got a new double-ring electric stove top, no oven, but at least it was situated on a counter top. Well, it was a concrete slab, but at standing level. I couldn´t get used to doing everything at floor level!

About 2:00 p.m., somebody asked me when the VP was coming. I didn´t know what he was talking about. Then Saruj came home from her work and came to see what was going on. She acted as translator and told us that they had been told the VP was coming to inspect the house for foreign visitors. The VP was, of course the Vice-Principal of the University, the top man on campus.

Later in the day, when the house was completely renovated, my husband´s colleague arrived to inspect the work. It turned out that he had told the office that the VP was coming to inspect the living conditions for visiting faculty, hence all the activity in one day! It was a hoax, the VP was not coming, but the work was done! We never did meet the VP.

I took a movie of the action, but the batteries for my video camera were not very good. It was not possible to buy long-life batteries in India at that time. So the movie does not run properly. It is funny to see all this activity in slow motion. I am not sure if I have the ability to make a modern video of this 8mm movie, but maybe some day, I will try.

We soon settled down to life in India, although our routines were very different from life in Canada. Night time was relatively quiet, except for barking and howling dogs that travelled about the neighbourhood in packs. During the day, the dogs slept in shady places. As far as I could tell, the dogs did not belong to anyone in particular and I never saw anyone walking a dog on a leash. I did not see any cats in our area.

The day dawned with a cacophony of sound from the birds. It was impossible to sleep through the noise of the dawn chorus. Most days were cloudless, with buzzards circling high in the sky. My first task of the day was to walk to get the day´s milk and put it on the stove top to make the day´s supply of curds. Breakfast was cereal with tinned evaporated milk and fresh fruit. I also got used to making cha, which is tea made by boiling water and condensed milk and throwing the tea bags into the boiling mix. The children left for school at 8:00 a.m. It was some time before I was told that the little mini bus carried over 20 kids.

During the day, for the first few months, the weather was too hot to do anything very strenuous. I found the relaxed lifestyle suited me. I had plenty of time for reading and no shortage of books. After the heat of the day, it was pleasant to go for an evening stroll with Saruj and her mother. Sometimes we walked to the shops and other times we visited friends. In the early evening, the boys would play cricket on the spare ground at the side of our house. Their wicket was painted on our wall, so we had the thud of the cricket ball hitting the house until I suggested they build a set of wickets with sticks. Caroline and Ritou developed a strong friendship and they hung out with other girls in the area in the early evenings. (Caroline is now in touch with Ritou through Facebook and Robert has been contacted by several boys who were in his class at school.)

We did not have a television, so in the evenings we would read or play a board game or chess. Robert collected chess sets and he had bought a unique set in Russia. The pieces were wood, quite large and brightly painted, similar in style to a nest of Russian dolls that Caroline got at the same time. I tried to beat Robert at chess - after all, I taught him to play - but he got too clever for me and won nearly every time. Michael missed the televison, and one day he rented a TV and rented a movie of Superman. The house was filled with all the neighbours´ kids and adults. Sometimes we went next door to watch the news on Saruj and Surinder´s television. After the assassination of Mrs. Gandhi on October 31st, we went in every night to hear the latest news. We saw coverage of all the horrors that took place after her death. We also watched the funeral and heard her son Rajiv´s acceptance speech as he took over as Prime Minister from his mother.

Michael, as visiting professor, was supposed to be giving lectures, but because of the Sikh unrest in the spring, the students had not written their end-of-year exams. Exams were in progress when we first arrived, so normal lectures were not taking place. Things were just getting back to normal when Mrs. Gandhi´s assassination at the end of October put everything back into chaos. 1984 was not a good year for India, and early in 1985, it was struck again with the Bhopal tragedy.

Despite these tragic events, we did manage to do quite a lot of travelling, which I will cover in future stories.

ED. NOTE: For pictures of Chandigarh, see Kate´s album at http://katiebro.shutterfly.com/

To be continued.

Frank Pollock describes an arduous hike down

THE WEST COAST TRAIL

So many of you have asked about my trip that I figured I´d write it all out. Actually, that´s not true. Few, if any have asked. Regardless, here are the details:

At this time of year, stringing sunny days together is rare. I don´t know how many false starts I´ve had in past years where I´ve put my pack together, organized my food, arranged the trail bus, rescheduled my board duties with the building here, only to cancel everything because the weather forecast changes hourly. But this time, it looked as if there was a guaranteed week of sunshine, so I just went for it. We square danced late Wednesday evening, and the next morning I was up at 4:45 and off to catch the Tswwassen ferry to Vancouver Island. From there, it was a two-and-a-half-hour dash along the wild west coast of the island, along windy, twisty roads to Port Renfrew and the Parks Canada office.

Normally, you need to take an hour orientation before crossing the Gordon River and onto the trail proper. However, the ranger, who had overheard my telephone conversation a day earlier, said she had a way around this. She gave me the "mini orientation", which consisted of four short sentences, and then, after charging me the $157 for the trail and ferry crossings, said I could catch the 1:00 p.m. ferry ride across the river.

The ride takes three minutes and the boat is operated by the Indian next door (sorry, First Nations). Happily, I took my car down the road a quarter mile and parked, then ran back, gave the Indian an extra $10, and had him take me across at 12:00. My regular hiking friend, Rowan, will appreciate the fact that I was able to get on the trail at noon instead of the scheduled 2:30 p.m. It meant I could make it all the way to Camper´s Bay, a horrible route of 13 km, and would lessen the next day´s hike through the rain forest muck. So, elated, at noon I set forth onto the trail and this feeling lasted a good two hours. Then reality set in and I paid dearly for the past two years of not undertaking any significant backpacking trips.

As Rowan says, the trail is a "hard meditation", meaning that you have to watch each and every step you take or you´ll fall. And falling with a heavy pack can lead to injury. In an isolated place like this, you are pretty much on your own. The Parks office has a tally board showing the number of rescues each season. The trail just opened May 1st, and already there have been people taken off the trail. I don´t carry a cell phone so I would probably just waste away in the mud if anything happened.

I found the trail to be reasonably dry for this time of year. Lots of roots, rocks, mud, but little standing water on the trail. This is true rain forest and the going is slow and tortuous. By the time I reached Camper´s Bay, it was 5:30 p.m. and I felt I had made remarkably good time, but I was wobbly on my feet, a little dizzy, and totally exhausted. I threw myself into the cable car and hauled myself across the creek, and discovered a school group of ´tweens was already there. Along with their instructors, they had taken two days and were spread all over the beach area.

I was just too tired to care, and set up my tent on rocks, close to one of their tents. I had no choice as space there is limited. After I got my tent up (and discovered the shock cords for my tent poles weren´t working), I went up the creek a bit, took everything off, and did a few pushups in the shallow creek to wash off the trail sweat and grime. It´s amazing how that simple act can revive you, but it´s not easy forcing yourself into icy water.

After that, it was back to the tent, open the bag of corn chips, pour myself a little cocktail (with fresh lemon), and actually enjoy the silly things I could hear the students saying. Next year at this time, they will be aware of the opposite sex, but right now, both girls and boys were interested in the noise rocks make when you toss them in the air and they slit the water. They were cute, but I was out of it. All I could do was lie perfectly still and hope to avoid any leg cramps and get some strength together for the next day.

Camper´s Bay is pretty, but you are set well back from the open ocean, with cliffs along either side, so it´s like wearing blinkers. And you are aware that the hardship of the day continues the next morning, so it´s more like recess than after school.

The robins wake you at 4:50 a.m. You can´t avoid the noisy buggers, but I was up then anyway and had my pack together and was back on the trail by 6:00 a.m.

The first thing you see is a ladder, and it goes up a long way. So no more than five minutes into the day, you´re sweating and your legs are tired. But at least you´ve got that one ladder out of the way. Then it´s two solid hours of difficult travel - over logs, under logs, around mud holes, through mud holes, up hills, down hills, and then you arrive at the day´s first big challenge. The Sandstone Creek ladders go way down. You cross a bridge and of course, go up the ladders on the other side. Twenty minutes later you are at Cullite Creek. These ladders have to be seen to be believed - just incredible. After going down, you take yourself across in a cable car, and then start up and up and up. I´m always grateful to finish Cullite because it´s probably the hardest single thing along the way.

Another hour of mud and roots and balancing and being very tired, you come to Logan Creek and more ladders. There was a washout there again last season, so the new ladders are truly frightening. It´s like stepping off a high-rise building into nothing - just you, air, and wooden rungs. After you get down, you have to cross the crude suspension bridge. It´s narrow and precarious, sways like the Dickens, and I manage it by focusing on the next plank. Just don´t look down. Oh yes, more ladders to go up once you get across. Lots of ladders.

Now there is just one more long hour of forest travel until you reach the wide Walbran River. Eventually, I got there and I was tired. Really tired, but I made it down the last set of ladders, and instead of using the cable car to cross, I went down to the mouth of the river where the channel narrows and waded across. This is always a celebratory moment because after a day and a half of very difficult travel, you are on the beach and the reason why you´re doing all this in the first place.

When you look out at sea, nothing but blue sky and blue ocean. No land until Japan. No boats can land here; the only way you get to be here and see it is to hike it, so it´s remote and gorgeous. There are more eagles than you can count, lots of kerlews, silly oyster catchers, sea birds you don´t see normally. When the sun is shining, the West Coast Trail is spectacular. When it´s cloudy or wet, it´s probably the last place you want to be.

I was really tired so I made myself a good sandwich, had a power gel, got my boots back on, and hoisted my pack for the six or eight km to Carmanah Beach and River. It can be tiring walking on sand, but in many places I could walk in an inch or so of sea water along sandstone since the tide was out. What a wonderful section of the trail, and I got to the cable car crossing about 2:00 p.m.

Normally, I would camp here because the beach is like a postcard, but it makes for a long day tomorrow. So this time I continued along the gorgeous beach and stopped in at Chez Monique´s shack. She is an old lady married to an Indian, and sells food and drinks to passersby. There is an Indian reserve that reaches the ocean at this point so she can do this legally, and actually, is quite famous in hiking circles. My thinking was that if I ate here, I could hike on to The Cribbs and not have to prepare dinner, so that would save me some time. My cheeseburger, bean salad, Coke and Gator Ade cost $23 (worth it!). After chatting with her for a while, I got myself upright and climbed the ladder at the end of the beach and was then up on the headlands. Great views and you can see, smell, and hear the sea lions. After a few km of this, I dropped down to the beach, and after another couple of km was at The Cribbs.

The Cribbs is normally a busy site. There is a huge flat beach so tenting is good, but the main reason for the crowds is that there is no place to camp between here and Tsusiat Falls - 17 km away. So you have trekkers arriving from the north (exhausted) and you have trekkers from the south, marshalling for the next day. It´s a staging area. There were only a few tents there when I arrived since it was early in the season and the trail was still quiet. I found an isolated spot and spent my second night very happy with myself for making it through the two toughest days with nothing but great hiking ahead. Another cocktail and so to bed.

If you´re getting bored with my story so far, it gets better. (Not in the Dan Savage way, though.)

ED. NOTE: For pictures of the West Coast Trail, click on http://arunaurl.com/4jm8

To be concluded.

Catherine Green forwards some of the winning definitions from

WORD PLAY MASTERS

This site has taken over the Washington Post´s Mensa Invitational, which asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition. The rules are the same, and here are some of the submissions:

Cashtration (n.): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period of time.

Ignoranus: A person who is both stupid and an asshole.

Intaxication: Euphoria at getting a tax refund, which lasts until you realize it was your money to start with.

Reintarnation: Coming back to life as a hillbilly.

Bozone (n.): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.

Giraffiti: Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.

Sarchasm: The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn´t get it.

Inoculatte: To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.

Osteopornosis: A degenerate disease. (This one got extra credit.)

Karmageddon: It´s like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it´s like, a serious bummer.

Decafalon (n.): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.

Glibido: All talk and no action.

Arachnoleptic Fit (n.): The frantic dance performed just after you´ve accidentally walked through a spider web.

Beelzebug (n.): Satan in the form of a mosquito, that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.

Caterpallor (n.): The colour you turn after finding half a worm in the fruit you´re eating.

Betty Audet forwards this poem:

THE WORLD IS MINE

Today, upon a bus, I saw a beautiful woman
And wished I were as beautiful.
When suddenly she rose to leave,
I saw her hobble down the aisle.
She had one leg and wore a crutch.
But as she passed, she passed a smile.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I have two legs; the world is mine.

I stopped to buy some candy.
The lad who sold it had such charm.
I talked with him, he seemed so glad.
If I were late, it´d do no harm.
And as I left, he said to me,
"I thank you, you´ve been so kind.
It´s nice to talk with folks like you.
You see," he said, "I´m blind."
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I have two eyes; the world is mine.

Later while walking down the street,
I saw a child I knew.
He stood and watched the others play,
But he did not know what to do.
I stopped a moment and then I said,
"Why don´t you join them, dear?"
He looked ahead without a word.
I realized, he couldn´t hear.
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I have two ears; the world is mine.

With feet to take me where I go...
With eyes to see the sunset´s glow...
With ears to hear what I´d know...
Oh, God, forgive me when I whine.
I´ve been blessed indeed, the world is mine.

Catherine Nesbitt quotes this summary:

"I´VE NO REGRETS...."

A palliative care nurse has written a book based on the five regrets most often expressed by her dying patients:

o I wish I´d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

o I wish I hadn´t worked so hard.

o I wish I´d had the courage to express my feelings.

o I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

o I wish that I had let myself be happier.

ED. NOTE: The nurse´s name is Bronnie Ware, and her book is called "The Top Five Regrets of the Dying: A Life Transformed by the Dearly Departing".

SUGGESTED WEBSITES

Betty Audet forwards this link to a site in which Shaw was donating money and Campbells donating food to the Food Bank for every viewing. Unfortunately, the offer ended on May 11, but the message is still important - the need is great!

Bruce Galway sends these clips of dancing "in the good old days":

Bruce also reminds us of this clip of Japanese teenagers playing music that would make Benny Goodman proud! Click on the URL below:

For listening to or free download, a song from Noah, Catherine Green´s son:

Don Henderson recommends this site for nerds and other smart people. Udacity is offering free courses in five or six subjects. If you are young and restless, this may help you get ahead; if you are old and decrepit like Don, you can have fun and fill your day. Click on

Gerrit deLeeuw forwards this link to a video of beautiful Friesian horses:

Pat Moore is glad she wasn´t on one of these ships, or in the lighthouse, but she loves looking at the sea with all its fury. These pictures are from Cape Horn at the southern tip of South America:

Pat also forwards the URL of a video of a man and his horses in Czechoslovakia. Honza Bláha is a great trainer, and must be in wonderful condition from all that running:

Salman Khan talks about how and why he created the remarkable Khan Academy, a carefully structured series of educational videos offering complete curricula in math and, now, other subjects. He shows the power of interactive exercises, and calls for teachers to consider flipping the traditional classroom script - give students video lectures to watch at home, and do "homework" in the classroom with the teacher available to help:

To check out the features of the "freedictionary", which changes daily, go to