Home  >> Stories  >> The Tale Spinner #2012-41

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IN THIS ISSUE

• Frank Pollock writes about another hiking trip
• Jo Johnson sends an example of buying locally
• Irene Harvalias forwards information on nutrition
• Cutbacks do make a difference to working conditions
• Terry Shannon is addicted to impulse buying
• Jay sends examples of how to impress men and women
• This incident could happen at the sale of a new iPhone
• Sites are recommended by Bruce Galway, Catherine Nesbitt, Don Henderson, and Gerrit deLeeuw

Frank Pollock, whom last we met on the West Coast Trail on the west side of Vancouver Island, here writes about

THE SKYLINE TRAIL

It was a dark and stormy night. Oops, I´m getting ahead of myself. I should start at the beginning.

We used to hike as a small group in the real wilderness of B.C., but since all my hiking companions have dropped away with various physical conditions and/or age, I now solo hike in places where I´m not totally isolated. To hike the Skyline Trail in Jasper, a National Park, you need to book well in advance and pay the park fees. I was on the trail four days and three nights. I figured the weather wouldn´t be important, given it was only four days. But bravado turns to trembling the closer you get to D-Day.

At 5:30 Monday morning I was at the Davie Street Starbucks when the key turned to open. With coffee to go, I drove straight through via the Yellow Head highway to Valemount. I´ve been there before, but didn´t realize Valemount is actually a small town - we´ve always just stopped for fuel along the highway. It´s kind of charming but not really.

After booking into the Super 8, I checked the computer weather forecast. Not so good. High winds, thunder storms, 40 - 60% chance of showers, and so on. I thought about abandoning the trip (and maybe heading for one of the hot springs), but instead, took a lot of weight out of my pack to make it more manageable in case I had to hike straight through.

I found a fine-dining restaurant in a huge log structure and enjoyed what felt like a last supper (pepper steak and martini), so didn´t complain about the $70 charge. I don´t know how the town supports such an upscale place. But as I took a short tour of the town, I noticed a lot of ski-doos, boats, ATVs, etc., so I guess the workers in this resource town are high earners.

Next morning I was off by 6:30 a.m. and covered the 125 km through Jasper and followed my sketchy directions to the north trailhead. I was to leave my vehicle in a small wilderness parking lot and have myself and my pack on the highway by 8:40 a.m. to be picked up by the Maligne Lake shuttle. I wasn´t sure I was in the correct location, so as I walked to the upper end of the parking lot to check the sign, I heard a man call out to me, "Are you Frank Pollock?" My instinct was to deny, but I turned and admitted it was me. I saw it was the shuttle driver and could see the small bus was nearly full. I told him he was an hour early and he replied, "No, you´re late. Let´s go!" Seems I forgot that Alberta is one hour ahead of B.C. Anyway, he threw my pack onto the bus while I jumped out of my running shoes and into my boots. And away we went. For the rest of the day, the other hikers referred to me as Mr. Pollock.

Enough preamble. After 45 minutes, we were dropped at the Maligne Lake parking lot, and while the others fiddled with their packs, I took off up the trail. I passed a lovely white-tail doe, a weasel, and a ptarmigan. The trail was benign and the climbing easy, so I arrived at the Little Shovel campsite after two hours. It was a pretty site just where the forest was beginning to thin out, around the 7,000 foot level. I was surprised to see some women sitting at a picnic table. There were four of them in one tent and they were were pleasant and friendly.

There are eight tent sites at each designated campsite along the trail, and you need a permit to be at any particular site on any given night. I picked a decent site and put up my brand-new three-season tent. After a cup of coffee, I settled in for the evening. Later arrivals started to file in, some going further, given their site permits, but unfortunately the weather forecast held true and there were very strong winds, lots of thunder, and buckets of rain. My tent performed well (no leaks, no collapse). It´s disheartening to be in a tent and hear nothing but rain because packing up in rain is miserable, but come morning, it was clear and sunny. I got my gear packed and was on the trail by 7:30 a.m., before any of the others had stirred.

Although initially clear, clouds were sweeping in from everywhere. Very mixed weather, and I really didn´t know what was going to happen. The trail climbed nicely up to Little Shovel Pass, and beyond, a huge verdant bowl opened below. The trail wound down through this lush area and after about 5 km, I passed the Snow Bowl campsite, where by now most people were up. I commented to a young woman who emerged from her tent that "she looked lovely this morning." She smiled but we both knew she looked awful.

The wide green meadow seemed to be unending, but eventually the trail began to climb and I found the going surprisingly difficult but realized it was just altitude. I kept at it and made the distant ridge (Big Shovel Pass). Here, the topography changed completely. No more green - just different shades of brown, and the ground was entirely broken bits of shale. All along the faint trail were little nosegays of phlox, perfectly round little bouquets of green leaves with pink and purple flowers - each seemed to be sculpted professionally. It´s amazing they´re so pretty and thrive in such a harsh environment. And speaking of nosegays, ladies used to carry them pressed to their noses to mask the stench from the open street sewers in London.

After another half hour, I turned off the trail and went straight down a very steep one-km side trail to the Curator campground. I could see it from the main trail above and it was a very attractive site, nestled in a grove of trees next to a shallow tarn. However, all the way down, I realized I had to climb back up first thing in the morning. The site was empty, so I picked a distant tent site next to a musical brook, got my tent up and had a cup of coffee. By this time, the sky had darkened and rain started. As I lay in my tent, a big bear of a man came into the camp with his two teenage daughters. Of course, they took the tent site next to mine. For the next two hours, I could hear him reading to his daughters and finally realized it was the Bible. Thankfully, the creek was noisy, but during the night, I could hear him snore.

During the night, I checked the sky, which was clear and star-filled. A big relief. First thing in the morning, I was up and ready. But quickly the clouds came in and looked threatening. I started up at 7:00 a.m. and regained the main trail in 20 minutes. Then it was on to The Notch, which is the high point along the entire trail, over 8,000 feet. The footing was iffy and precarious, but I enjoyed looking down on blue blue Curator Lake and the cat´s paws sweeping across the water.

By 8:00 a.m. I had reached the snow cornice of The Notch. There was only time for a quick backwards look, and then it was off along five km of exposed ridge. In good weather, this is the reason to hike The Skyline, but today the weather was closing in and there was an icy wind. Off to the right and to the left, I could see ranges of mountains - very impressive. But the wind was unrelenting and so cold. Further along, I could see the trail wind down into another alpine bowl. I watched a mountain caribou work his way up the slope as I worked my way down. Finally, I was down in the meadow and out of the wind. The sky was mixed and ever-changing but so far, I had not felt any rain.

Another hour brought me to my last campsite, Tekarra, and while the trail and area were wet and muddy from the recent weather, the individual sites were raised and attractive. Yes, again I was first there and got the nicest site. After getting my tent and gear set up and having a cup of Starbuck´s, I was resting in my tent when along came the Apostles, and took the site next to me. Happily, it was a bit further removed than the previous night but I could still hear the two-hour Bible reading and the girls´ singing. Late afternoon and early evening, hikers started coming in to camp and all had been soaked on the ridge and hailed on, too. I guess the moral is Get Up Early and Get Your Ass in Gear (or get wet). And as usual, by late afternoon, it was another session of thunder and heavy rain. I didn´t care - I had washed, eaten, and was happily resting in my tent.

So Friday morning, my final day on the trail had me up first thing and off before any of the others were awake. All the mud puddles were ice covered and the ridges were white with fresh snow. It was cold but sunny and the trail led upward easily along Signal Mountain, with its wide alpine meadows and spectacular views. The literature says to be prepared in this area for bears, so I had my newly-purchased bear spray attached to my belt. This was the best part of the trail for me and after five km, the trail joined an old fire road which had turned into a pathway. It was a full eight km downhill to the parking lot and my car. It was there. It started. I was happy.

About 20 minutes later, I was in Jasper inside a fantastic bakery having a cup of coffee. Apart from fuel, that was my last stop on the way back to Vancouver, except for one fruit stand stop in Little Fort to buy Okanagan tomatoes. Can you make wine from tomatoes?

I was home by 7:30 p.m., in time to watch the fourth quarter of the B.C. Lions´ football game. So from 8,000 feet in snow in the morning to the seashore in Vancouver, 13 km along the trail, and however many km from Alberta to Vancouver. I was impressed, but then I hike fast and drive sort of fast.

The only bear I saw was a hot tired-looking one on the burned slopes near Barriere. And when I got home, was Don there to greet me? No, he was asleep on the couch with the remote control in his hand and the Gaither Gospel Hour wailing away. His two favourite things are naps and Okanagan tomatoes.

The Skyline Trail is worth the effort: huge views and a high alpine trail. The only drawback is having other people join you at the campsites, but people for the most part are friendly and interesting.

Jo Johnson wrote this article some years ago, and it is reprinted here as an example of the new emphasis on buying locally:

AMISH ADVENTURE

Yesterday we went into the hills around Elroy to see if we could order a kitchen table from the Amish.

After having gone over to Don´s Oak for a second time, we found another single pedestal table (but this one not so wide), and yet another with a little more modern design to it. We proceeded to hunt down the journeyman who made the tables.

They all farm to bring in food for the family, but to make a little money on the side they also have trades. Talk about a closely-knit group of people! One fellow made only chairs, another only tables, and yet a third only put the finish on. So on to search for our table man.

We arrived at Amos´ home, only to find no one there. That´s a major problem with the Amish (if you can call it that.) Having no telephones, there is no way to tell them you are coming. We drove along the road until we met up with another fellow. He knew right where Amos was. He was down the valley, working on some project.

Bob and the fellow talked about who was doing what and catching up on the news. Bob has had the Amish work for him over time so he knew a little bit about all the families. Even the ladies have their trades. Some make quilts and some make candy.

We were parked across from the school house and a softball game was in progress. They all have the same standard uniform or outfit of dark blue or black homemade pants with a lighter blue shirt. There were lots of buttons but no zippers. The boys wear straw hats and the girls, bonnets. If you mingle with them long enough you learn to read the codes. I know there is something to the colour of the bonnet as to whether a girl is married or not, and men are clean shaven if they aren´t married. Back in the school yard I could see there wasn´t quite enough for two full softball teams, and they had modified the rules a bit. One girl was running the bases barefoot!

Finally, with directions in hand, we ambled along up and over the next hill. At the second place there still was no Amos. He probably went home for lunch, Harvey told us. We continued to follow one lead after another until we finally caught up with him.

We talked about size of the table, type of wood, the type of pedestal we wanted, and so on. All the time Amos was scratching his chin, nodding his head, saying, "Yes, I think I can do that." Looking at the calendar, he said the first of December it would be ready.

One way to tell whether a building is an Amish house or not will be the absence of electrical wires. It´s hard to understand how they manage so well without electricity, but they do have gasoline generators, lots of pulleys, and seem to have enough power to run all the required equipment.

Why do we do this? Several reasons. It´s fun to deal first hand with the craftsman. We always insist that he sign his name and date the piece he has sold to us. Second, Bob gets to know everyone a little better and there are times when he needs their labour. They have put on one roof for him after a particularly bad storm and other things. And the price is considerably less, since there is no middleman and no showroom. Along with that are a few drawbacks. You can´t pick your furniture up tomorrow or have it shipped right to your house. Then there will be the matter of wondering if it´s finished, and finding the place.

It´s good to have a very good sense of direction when dealing directly with the Amish as there isn´t a straight road for miles. Getting lost is very common.

Coming back to Madison, I saw a pigeon sitting on a telephone wire. It was unusual to see only one bird. Right away the words, "A lonesome dove," popped into my mind, quickly followed by "waiting to get on-line." I inwardly laughed at the twist of words, and could hardly wait to get home and share my humour.

I had an interesting day and for once slept really well.

Irene Harvalias forwards this interesting info:

FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO WATCH WHAT YOU EAT

For those of you who watch what you eat, here´s the final word on nutrition and health, and it´s a relief to know the truth after all those conflicting medical studies:

1. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Canadians, British, or Americans.

2. The Mexicans eat a lot of fat and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the Canadians, British, or Americans.

3. The Japanese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Canadians, British, or Americans.

4. The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the Canadians, British, or Americans.

5. The Germans drink a lot of beer and eat lots of sausages and fats and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Canadians, British, or Americans.

6. Ukrainians drink a lot of vodka, eat a lot of perogies and cabbage rolls, and suffer fewer heart attacks than the Canadians, British, or Americans.

CONCLUSION: Eat and drink what you like. Speaking English is apparently what kills you.

ME AND LEROY

A guy stopped at a local gas station and, after filling his tank, he paid the bill and bought a soft drink. He stood by his car to drink his cola and watched a couple of men working along the roadside.

One man would dig a hole two or three feet deep and then move on. The other man came along behind him and filled in the hole. While one was digging a new hole, the other was 25 feet behind filling in the hole.

The men worked right past the guy with the soft drink and went on down the road. "I can´t stand this," said the man, and full of curiosity, he tossed the can into a trash container and heading down the road toward the men.

"Hold it, hold it," he said to the men. "I´m really curious - can you tell me what´s going on here with all this digging and refilling?"

"Well, we work for the government, and we´re just doing our job," one of the men said.

"But one of you is digging a hole and the other fills it up. You´re not accomplishing anything. Isn´t this a waste the taxpayers´ money?"

"You don´t understand, mister," one of the men said, leaning on his shovel and wiping his brow. "Normally there´s three of us: me, Elmer, and Leroy. We plant roadside trees. I dig the hole, Elmer sticks in the tree, and Leroy here puts the dirt back. Elmer´s job´s been cut ... so now it´s just me an´ Leroy."

Terry Shannon recalls a close encounter of a fantastic kind:

FROG KNIGHT FOLLY

Craig and I stare into the eyes of the frog posed before us. He´s something to look at, all right - a man-sized frog in armour.

My husband and I look at each other.

"Wow," I say, shifting my attention back to the giant amphibian. "He´s outrageous! He´s bizarre! He´s … irresistible."

"Are you thinking what I´m thinking?" Craig asks.

"You´d better believe it," I say.

The two of us have a long history of abandoning logic to choose the path our hearts dictate. Our "what were we thinking?" purchasing plan encompasses the small odd food item (jalapeno salmon jerky, anyone?) to real estate.

For example, our "reasoning" (I use the word extremely loosely) when deciding to buy the house we live in went: "Hmm … it has a leaking roof, the septic system is beyond repair, there´s dry rot everywhere - not to mention that little foundation problem. Plus, it will double our commuting time. And the house we´re in now is finally fixed up. BUT…." We smiled at each other, starry-eyed, and said in one voice: "I love it … let´s buy it!" Buy in haste, repent at leisure.

So it´s little wonder - I guess - that we should find ourselves enraptured by a papier-mache frog knight object d´art taller than I am.

In a rare reasonable lapse, I ask, "Where on earth will we put him?"

"Dining room?" Craig suggests.

"We barely have room for our table and chairs. Living room?"

"We wouldn´t be able to see the TV."

I sigh. "We don´t have room for him, anywhere. BUT...." We smile at each other, starry-eyed, and say in one voice: "I love it ... let´s buy it!"

We admire our frog for a bit. He gazes back regally, his armour gleaming silver and bronze.

Craig clears his throat. "Uh. How will we pay for him?"

"If we put off shingling for a month ... and don´t buy mulch ... and don´t buy one book, or one single plant...." I break off. "Craig! This is crazy! We don´t need this thing."

"Look at it," he says. The frog´s eyes sparkle from beneath his visor. I halfway expect him to salute and announce, "Sir Percival, at your service."

"He´s so big," I say, in my weakest please-convince-me voice.

"He has presence," Craig says. "But if you really don´t want him … "

"No," I say. "But how will we get him home? He won´t fit in the car."

"We´ll figure something out."

Previews of our future flash before my eyes: renting a moving van, asking one of our friends to help us cart our frog around. Oh, dear. On the other hand, I love that frog.

We smile at each other. "Let´s buy it!" We´re able to find our way to the counter, even with our eyes full of stars.

"The frog knight?" the shopkeeper says. "Believe it or not, someone bought him. There´s no accounting for some people´s taste!"

"Whew!" I say as we climb in our frog-less car. "That was a close call! What on earth were we thinking, anyway?"

Craig´s quiet a moment. "We´re always going to regret not having that frog," he says finally.

And, to tell the truth, I kind of do.

Jay sends this one:

HOW TO IMPRESS A WOMAN:

* Wine her,
* Dine her,
* Call her,
* Hug her,
* Support her,
* Hold her,
* Surprise her,
* Compliment her,
* Smile at her,
* Listen to her,
* Laugh with her,
* Cry with her,
* Romance her,
* Believe in her,
* Cuddle with her,
* Shop with her,
* Give her jewelry,
* Buy her flowers,
* Hold her hand,
* Write love letters to her,
* Go to the end of the earth and back again for her.

* Show up naked. * Bring chicken wings and beer.

HOW TO IMPRESS A MAN:

* Show up naked.
* Bring chicken wings and beer.

SALE DAY

It was the day of the big sale. Rumours of the sale (and some advertising in the local paper) were the main reason for the long line that formed in front of the store by 8:30, the store´s opening time.

A small man pushed his way to the front of the line, only to be pushed back, amid loud and colourful curses. On the man´s second attempt, he was punched square in the jaw, and knocked around a bit, and then thrown to the end of the line again.

As he got up the second time, he said to the person at the end of the line, "That does it! If they hit me one more time, I´m not opening the store!"

RECOMMENDED WEBSITES

Bruce Galway forwards this link to a video of Neil deGrasse Tyson talking about the dreams of a nation:

Bruce also sends the URL for a video of Dave, an extremely gifted clairvoyant who finds out specific information about people. This video reveals the magic behind the magic, making people aware of the fact that their entire life can be found online:

Catherine Nesbitt suggests this link for updated information from the Canadian Food Inspection Agency on the recent recall of beef products from XL Foods:

Catherine also recommends that you check your credit cards for this insert, because they can be copied with a device available online. She believes that you could protect yourself from this type of theft if you have a folding wallet by cutting a piece of aluminum foil to the size of a paper currency note. That would wrap around all your cards and not make the wallet too thick or heavy. It also might be useful to make a reflector if you are ever stranded on a mountain top:

Don Henderson forwards this link to a video which we have seen before but is well worth watching again, if only to renew our faith in human nature. This episode was filmed on a beach in Brazil right from the start, and shows the instant reaction of people on the beach, though I noticed that no women helped with the rescue of the stranded dolphins:

Gerrit deLeeuw suggests this site for a video in which a diminutive "little old lady" shines a very funny light on the foibles of growing old, to the delight of an audience filled with senior-care experts:

This site has descriptions of six of the most mysterious places in Canada, none of which I have seen, though I have been across Canada (but missed Newfoundland) and have lived in five provinces. Check them out at

Back in 1935 I was 13 years old, and I may have seen this old Disney cartoon in our local theatre in Salmon Arm, but I don´t remember it. Your grandchildren may enjoy watching this as much as kids did back then in what Jay calls "the olden days":

If you have ever wondered just how safe the Smart car is, this video shows how well it survived a 70-mph crash against a concrete barrier. However, no driver would be able to survive such a crash in any vehicle, so no matter what you own, don´t try this yourself:

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