Jade: She shells shee shells by the shee shore!
Me (trying to be helpful): She...
Jade: Shells...
Me: No, No. Say what I say. "She..."
Jade: She...
Me: Sells...
Jade: Shee shells...
Me: No, no. "She sells..."
Jade: "She sells..."
Me: Good! "Sea shells..."
Jade: Shee shells by the shee shore!
Me: By the sea shore!
Jade (with eyes lighting up at the realization that there's a better way to say it): By the beach! She shells she shells by the beach!
One step closer to tongue-twister mastery.
Who loved Humpty Dumpty?
When I was a wee lad, I had a classmate whose sister fell off her bike and sustained a very serious head injury. In spite of that, years later, when bike helmets became more widely available, I was not what you would call an early adopter. The helmets were uncomfortable. They never seemed to be shaped to fit my head properly. The neck straps dug into my wattle (I don't really have a waddle but I can't think of a better name to call the skin under my jaw). I didn't really care about what they did to my hair - my hair does whatever it wants anyway. Heck, I even developed a theory that bike helmets caused accidents because they threw off the body's centre of gravity.
I started wearing one - sometimes - because it was a local by-law. Heck, I'd bailed tonnes of times and I had never hit my head - proof that helmets cause accidents, right?
Years later, my darling wife starting "encouraging" me to wear a helmet. I ended up doing it because she was worried about me and I didn't want her to worry. She worried about me because she loves me - and I started wearing one because I love her.
Since I started wearing a helmet I've had two bike accidents, both of which where I sustained serious blows to my head - one of which put me in bed for a day and gave me a headache for over a week. I'm not sure if the helmets helped cause the head-whacking or not, but I do know that without them my brains might have been left all over the trail (as opposed to being safely tucked inside my noggin, if somewhat scrambled).
Helmet design had come a long way since I first started wearing one. Today they're highly adjustable and (dare I say it) comfortable. Now, when I look at people who ride bikes without a helmet, I think they're idiots.
But maybe they don't have someone who loves them.
And maybe they would wear one if they got it like this:
I started wearing one - sometimes - because it was a local by-law. Heck, I'd bailed tonnes of times and I had never hit my head - proof that helmets cause accidents, right?
Years later, my darling wife starting "encouraging" me to wear a helmet. I ended up doing it because she was worried about me and I didn't want her to worry. She worried about me because she loves me - and I started wearing one because I love her.
Since I started wearing a helmet I've had two bike accidents, both of which where I sustained serious blows to my head - one of which put me in bed for a day and gave me a headache for over a week. I'm not sure if the helmets helped cause the head-whacking or not, but I do know that without them my brains might have been left all over the trail (as opposed to being safely tucked inside my noggin, if somewhat scrambled).
Helmet design had come a long way since I first started wearing one. Today they're highly adjustable and (dare I say it) comfortable. Now, when I look at people who ride bikes without a helmet, I think they're idiots.
But maybe they don't have someone who loves them.
And maybe they would wear one if they got it like this:
Public Service Announcement: What they really mean by "Children's Programming"
Jade got a special treat the other day and was allowed to watch an episode of Go, Diego, Go!. We cuddled together on the couch as Diego instructed commanded us to clap our hands and point out the obvious route that the characters should take and flap our arms and shout "hola" and "rápido", all with a healthy dose of positive feedback.
Suddenly, it occurred on me that the show (and it's relative, Dora the Explorer) is really part of a nefarious ploy to program our children so they do whatever the television tells them to do without question! How positively evil!
If you've seen even one episode of these shows, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, I encourage you to check it out - but don't watch for too long or they might get you, too!
Suddenly, it occurred on me that the show (and it's relative, Dora the Explorer) is really part of a nefarious ploy to program our children so they do whatever the television tells them to do without question! How positively evil!
Buy this! Wear that! You will obey me! I command you!
If you've seen even one episode of these shows, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, I encourage you to check it out - but don't watch for too long or they might get you, too!
If only I'd had a camera.
It was disappointing to not have a functioning camera while I was on the road. I wasn't able to get any pictures of the fantastic scenery, my impromptu (and muddy) adventure into Nahanni Butte, my time visiting with friends in Fort Liard, my return to the pools at Summit Lake, and so much more.
Fortunately, I ran into my friends Laureen and Melanie (who were also visiting Wrigley) and they were kind enough to loan me a camera for a couple of hours. I had a little time to spare before I had to leave to catch the ferry across the Mackenzie River, so I went to hide a geocache and hike to the nearby Smith Creek Falls.
I could have spent hours and hours and hours there, swimming in the tannin-filled, sun-warmed waters, hunting for fossils, and munching on a bounty of sweet wild berries. With every step I took up the creek bed I wanted to make make two more; every bend of this little river held new surprises.
It was only then that I turned back, hustled back into Wrigley to return the camera, and made my way down the Mackenzie Highway to catch the ferry.
Oh, there were so many more things I would have taken pictures of if only I'd had a camera...
Fortunately, I ran into my friends Laureen and Melanie (who were also visiting Wrigley) and they were kind enough to loan me a camera for a couple of hours. I had a little time to spare before I had to leave to catch the ferry across the Mackenzie River, so I went to hide a geocache and hike to the nearby Smith Creek Falls.
I could have spent hours and hours and hours there, swimming in the tannin-filled, sun-warmed waters, hunting for fossils, and munching on a bounty of sweet wild berries. With every step I took up the creek bed I wanted to make make two more; every bend of this little river held new surprises.
Near the trailhead.
Looking downstream where the trail meets the creek.
Upstream.
A deep little whirley-pool.
The hot tub.
More falls?
Four falls. How did that little one get down there?
Foam on the water. Can it be possible that there are MORE falls?
Yup.
That overhang looks interesting. What could be under there?
Fossils!
Should I head back now? Nah, just a little bit further...
Mini erosion holes at yet...
More falls!
It was only then that I turned back, hustled back into Wrigley to return the camera, and made my way down the Mackenzie Highway to catch the ferry.
Oh, there were so many more things I would have taken pictures of if only I'd had a camera...
The Chair of Belated Warning.
Remember the Bucket... of DOOM!?
I have come across another seemingly harmless yet nefarious device - the Chair of Belated Warning!
The Chair of Belated Warning looks innocent enough - until you try to tip it forwards, backwards, or stand on in - then WATCH OUT! Like some 18th-Century school marm (or my second grade teacher), the chair wants you to sit straight with your feet flat on the floor. If you don't, the chair will fling you off. Then, when you're lying on the floor, rubbing your tushie and/or your head, the chair will smirk at you, display it's warning label and say, "See. I told you so."
Fortunately, I have not had any problems with the Chair of Belated Warning (yet), but what does that say about our intelligence as a society that we feel the need to put warnings on chairs?
Even worse, what does that say about our intelligence as a society when we put warnings under chairs so they will only be noticed by:
I have come across another seemingly harmless yet nefarious device - the Chair of Belated Warning!
The Chair of Belated Warning looks innocent enough - until you try to tip it forwards, backwards, or stand on in - then WATCH OUT! Like some 18th-Century school marm (or my second grade teacher), the chair wants you to sit straight with your feet flat on the floor. If you don't, the chair will fling you off. Then, when you're lying on the floor, rubbing your tushie and/or your head, the chair will smirk at you, display it's warning label and say, "See. I told you so."
Fortunately, I have not had any problems with the Chair of Belated Warning (yet), but what does that say about our intelligence as a society that we feel the need to put warnings on chairs?
Even worse, what does that say about our intelligence as a society when we put warnings under chairs so they will only be noticed by:
- People who stack chairs upside down on a table (the only reason I noticed),
- People who crawl under chairs (for whatever crazy reason), and/or
- People who have already fallen off the chair?
At the summit.
As I mentioned in my last post, I'm in Wrigley, NWT right now. The drive from Whitehorse to Wrigley has about 1,600 kilometres-worth of gorgeous scenery (and some seriously adventure-filled roads).
View Larger Map
On my way here, I stopped at a place I've passed many, many times - and even spent the night in my car at the pull-out, once - but never took the time to explore.
Summit Lake, part of BC's Stone Mountain Provincial Park, marks the highest point on the Alaska Highway (1,295m/4,250ft). There are several trails branching off the highway and I hadn't explored a single one of them.
That had to change.
The sun had set behind the mountain but, taking advantage of the still-long days, I began trotting up the 5km Summit Mountain trail. The trailhead (and mountain) is behind this guy - who might not be there when you visit:
View Larger Map
(Holy smokes! I can't believe they "Street Viewed" the entire Alaska Highway!!!)
The trail was easy, but climbed relentlessly uphill. Although there were some loose stones near the summit, I did the whole hike in my knock-off Crocs. I wouldn't recommend this for others, but for me it was fine.
Things started off nicely with some pretty flowers, followed shortly thereafter with a little stream crossing.
Near the tree-line, there was a fantastic rock, laden with marine fossils and quartz-lined geodes.
I strolled higher and higher, now above the treeline, trying to catch up to the sunset.
The wind, which had been non-existent down in the valley, was now screaming. The wind wasn't cold - in fact, the temperature was downright pleasant - but it was so strong that the wind whistling through my ears was starting to make my ears hurt. I had to cover them with the hood on my hooded sweatshirt. I suspect that, if the wind had been just a few kilometres-an-hour faster, my ears would have started to flap.
As I walked higher and higher, the ridge narrowed. It became unnerving to walk along the ridge when the almost-ear-flapping wind was trying its best to push me off.
Not quite making it to the summit, I decided to let caution prevail and headed back down the mountain - doing some more exploring along the way, of course.
As I was poking around, somewhere about here...
...I came across this. Now, it's entirely possible that I'm going insane. Because, really, what would be the odds that I would find, one day after the other, 640 kms apart, another DINOSAUR FOOTPRINT!!!
Am I going crazy here? Please help me on this one because I really think I'm starting to lose my marbles. Sadly, this one won't be as easy to re-locate as the (possible) ones on Lake Laberge.
I was planning on taking more pictures of it. I really was. And then this happened.
My lovable, reliable, Canon S1IS stopped working. I don't know why. It might have something to do with a long-missing screw in the side of the case. Maybe it really didn't like that wind (although I tried to protect it under my sweatshirt). Maybe it didn't want me to show you any pictures of what came next.
What came next?
I went skinny dipping.
I reeked of sulphur from a quick dip I had taken in the Liard Hotsprings a couple hours before. I could smell it emanating off me during the entire walk up the mountain. The smell had to go.
Instead of following the path back down to the car, I decided to follow the creek bed. Oh, how I wish I'd had my camera! The creek bed was, for all intents and purposes, dry. There were huge slabs of picturesque bedrock and erosion-drilled pools. It was in one of these sheltered, erosion pools that I took a dip. The pool was about the size of a small hot tub and the water was crystal clear, slightly warmed by the day's sun.
Refreshed and nowhere near as sulphury, I continued to follow the creek bed down the mountain.
There were more pools, some larger than others, all of them warmed by the sun and all of them crystal-clear. At one point, the creek bed narrowed between two walls of rock, with a smooth slab above and a smooth slab below. Just above the narrowing, there is a large, private pool of varying depths perfect for little kids who like to swim. Only a short walk up from the parking area (and one that's entirely do-able with toddlers), I'm skipping the hotsprings the next time I drive this part of the Alaska Highway with my family - I'm taking them there instead!
As I continued down the creek bed, something perplexed me more and more. I had had to cross a stream on my way up the mountain, but this creek bed was dry. Where did the water come from? I wasn't lost. I wasn't in the wrong creek bed. I could see the trail from where I was. The geography made it nearly impossible to get lost. I was in a narrow valley and there weren't any other valleys where the water could have come from.
I continued to follow the creek bed downstream. I could hear rushing water ahead. Finding the water, I followed it up to its source - which took only seconds. The water was shooting out of the ground. It was a spring, shooting right out of the mountain!
Thirsty after my hike, I dipped my hands into the cool, cool water and drank deep. It was delicious.
The spring and the short walk to it will now become an Alaska Highway ritual for me.
And something tells me that the Summit Lake area has many more treasures to share and is worthy of much, much, much more exploring.
View Larger Map
On my way here, I stopped at a place I've passed many, many times - and even spent the night in my car at the pull-out, once - but never took the time to explore.
Summit Lake, part of BC's Stone Mountain Provincial Park, marks the highest point on the Alaska Highway (1,295m/4,250ft). There are several trails branching off the highway and I hadn't explored a single one of them.
That had to change.
The sun had set behind the mountain but, taking advantage of the still-long days, I began trotting up the 5km Summit Mountain trail. The trailhead (and mountain) is behind this guy - who might not be there when you visit:
View Larger Map
(Holy smokes! I can't believe they "Street Viewed" the entire Alaska Highway!!!)
The trail was easy, but climbed relentlessly uphill. Although there were some loose stones near the summit, I did the whole hike in my knock-off Crocs. I wouldn't recommend this for others, but for me it was fine.
Things started off nicely with some pretty flowers, followed shortly thereafter with a little stream crossing.
Near the tree-line, there was a fantastic rock, laden with marine fossils and quartz-lined geodes.
I strolled higher and higher, now above the treeline, trying to catch up to the sunset.
Success!
The wind, which had been non-existent down in the valley, was now screaming. The wind wasn't cold - in fact, the temperature was downright pleasant - but it was so strong that the wind whistling through my ears was starting to make my ears hurt. I had to cover them with the hood on my hooded sweatshirt. I suspect that, if the wind had been just a few kilometres-an-hour faster, my ears would have started to flap.
As I walked higher and higher, the ridge narrowed. It became unnerving to walk along the ridge when the almost-ear-flapping wind was trying its best to push me off.
A long way down...
Not quite making it to the summit, I decided to let caution prevail and headed back down the mountain - doing some more exploring along the way, of course.
As I was poking around, somewhere about here...
...I came across this. Now, it's entirely possible that I'm going insane. Because, really, what would be the odds that I would find, one day after the other, 640 kms apart, another DINOSAUR FOOTPRINT!!!
Am I going crazy here? Please help me on this one because I really think I'm starting to lose my marbles. Sadly, this one won't be as easy to re-locate as the (possible) ones on Lake Laberge.
I was planning on taking more pictures of it. I really was. And then this happened.
My lovable, reliable, Canon S1IS stopped working. I don't know why. It might have something to do with a long-missing screw in the side of the case. Maybe it really didn't like that wind (although I tried to protect it under my sweatshirt). Maybe it didn't want me to show you any pictures of what came next.
What came next?
I went skinny dipping.
I reeked of sulphur from a quick dip I had taken in the Liard Hotsprings a couple hours before. I could smell it emanating off me during the entire walk up the mountain. The smell had to go.
Instead of following the path back down to the car, I decided to follow the creek bed. Oh, how I wish I'd had my camera! The creek bed was, for all intents and purposes, dry. There were huge slabs of picturesque bedrock and erosion-drilled pools. It was in one of these sheltered, erosion pools that I took a dip. The pool was about the size of a small hot tub and the water was crystal clear, slightly warmed by the day's sun.
Refreshed and nowhere near as sulphury, I continued to follow the creek bed down the mountain.
There were more pools, some larger than others, all of them warmed by the sun and all of them crystal-clear. At one point, the creek bed narrowed between two walls of rock, with a smooth slab above and a smooth slab below. Just above the narrowing, there is a large, private pool of varying depths perfect for little kids who like to swim. Only a short walk up from the parking area (and one that's entirely do-able with toddlers), I'm skipping the hotsprings the next time I drive this part of the Alaska Highway with my family - I'm taking them there instead!
As I continued down the creek bed, something perplexed me more and more. I had had to cross a stream on my way up the mountain, but this creek bed was dry. Where did the water come from? I wasn't lost. I wasn't in the wrong creek bed. I could see the trail from where I was. The geography made it nearly impossible to get lost. I was in a narrow valley and there weren't any other valleys where the water could have come from.
I continued to follow the creek bed downstream. I could hear rushing water ahead. Finding the water, I followed it up to its source - which took only seconds. The water was shooting out of the ground. It was a spring, shooting right out of the mountain!
Thirsty after my hike, I dipped my hands into the cool, cool water and drank deep. It was delicious.
The spring and the short walk to it will now become an Alaska Highway ritual for me.
And something tells me that the Summit Lake area has many more treasures to share and is worthy of much, much, much more exploring.
Lake Laberge Discoveries!
I'm in Wrigley, NWT right now. The day before I left, Fawn, the kids, and I got out for a sail on Lake Laberge. We headed up the lake: There was a trailhead that I wanted to scout out.
I did some of the sailing and Fawn did the rest. The kids kept themselves entertained down in the cabin, except for a few times when Halia came up into the cockpit to feast on some delicious cherries. Of course, this required me to take the seed out for her and the best way to do that is to make funny-looking faces so my wife can take pictures of it.
The wind, coming from the north/east was good, but we didn't quite make it to where I wanted to go. Instead, we stopped at a little beach along the way - one where we wouldn't normally be able to stop (because of waves) if the wind were coming from the south like it normally does. Fortunately, the shore was sheltered from the wind and the water was glassy.
The beach, receiving the full force of the sun, was scorching. We took to the water to cool our feet.
There were hundreds of pieces of smooth glass along the beach, in shades of white, green, brown, blue, and purple. There were also other items of interest, like this old nail.
And this ladder.
As I looked along the shoreline, I noticed ripples - caused by something under the water - at regular intervals. As the ripples moved closer, I saw that they were small schools of minnows. One school would pass by, moving down the lake and, like clockwork, another school would appear, heading in the same direction. This happened over, and over, and over, and over again.
What interested me the most about the beach, though, were the large slabs of rock. I'm not an expert, but the slabs looked fossiliferous to me.
I love looking for interesting fossils, but I spotted something that got me even more excited than fossils can. Again, I'm not an expert (and will be seeking an expert opinion), but if I'm not mistaken, those are (note where the hand in Jade's shadow is pointing)...
Fawn confirmed that I wasn't going crazy and that the marks in the rock did, indeed, look like dinosaur footprints. On one print, the "toe" goes in one direction, with a mirror image on the other print.
That wasn't the only trackway, though. I am much less certain, but I think I also found a pair of three-toed dinosaur footprints in an adjacent rock slab. The prints are much harder to see, but I could feel the three toes on each of the prints. Fawn felt the rock and, again, confirmed that I wasn't going crazy. (Either that or she's humouring me.)
It was amazing what we found, considering that we started the day looking for something completely different.
After our beach explorations, it was time to head uphill to take in the views. The sun beat down on us as we made out way up the south-facing slope. Summer is in full swing in the Yukon. Fawn and Halia munched on wild strawberries while Jade and I raced for the top of a knoll to see who would be the king of the castle and who would be the dirty rascal.
I'll let you decide who won.
I did some of the sailing and Fawn did the rest. The kids kept themselves entertained down in the cabin, except for a few times when Halia came up into the cockpit to feast on some delicious cherries. Of course, this required me to take the seed out for her and the best way to do that is to make funny-looking faces so my wife can take pictures of it.
The wind, coming from the north/east was good, but we didn't quite make it to where I wanted to go. Instead, we stopped at a little beach along the way - one where we wouldn't normally be able to stop (because of waves) if the wind were coming from the south like it normally does. Fortunately, the shore was sheltered from the wind and the water was glassy.
The beach, receiving the full force of the sun, was scorching. We took to the water to cool our feet.
There were hundreds of pieces of smooth glass along the beach, in shades of white, green, brown, blue, and purple. There were also other items of interest, like this old nail.
And this ladder.
As I looked along the shoreline, I noticed ripples - caused by something under the water - at regular intervals. As the ripples moved closer, I saw that they were small schools of minnows. One school would pass by, moving down the lake and, like clockwork, another school would appear, heading in the same direction. This happened over, and over, and over, and over again.
What interested me the most about the beach, though, were the large slabs of rock. I'm not an expert, but the slabs looked fossiliferous to me.
I love looking for interesting fossils, but I spotted something that got me even more excited than fossils can. Again, I'm not an expert (and will be seeking an expert opinion), but if I'm not mistaken, those are (note where the hand in Jade's shadow is pointing)...
DINOSAUR FOOTPRINTS!
Fawn confirmed that I wasn't going crazy and that the marks in the rock did, indeed, look like dinosaur footprints. On one print, the "toe" goes in one direction, with a mirror image on the other print.
That wasn't the only trackway, though. I am much less certain, but I think I also found a pair of three-toed dinosaur footprints in an adjacent rock slab. The prints are much harder to see, but I could feel the three toes on each of the prints. Fawn felt the rock and, again, confirmed that I wasn't going crazy. (Either that or she's humouring me.)
It was amazing what we found, considering that we started the day looking for something completely different.
After our beach explorations, it was time to head uphill to take in the views. The sun beat down on us as we made out way up the south-facing slope. Summer is in full swing in the Yukon. Fawn and Halia munched on wild strawberries while Jade and I raced for the top of a knoll to see who would be the king of the castle and who would be the dirty rascal.
I'll let you decide who won.
