part iv: to Dingle (alternate title: poop)

Okay, let me try to get this one out today...

Apparently, after consultation with the journal I'm forgetting to consult, I forgot to mention a trip to the grocery store, and two pub stops from yesterday. From here on in, assume there are always pub stops.

We got up early, excited for our hike, and ready for whatever the day brought us.

First we had a good breakfast, knowing we'd only be carrying snacks and nutella brown bread sandwiches. Once we had scarfed our tea and crumpets, or tea and whatever we had, we made our way back to our room. Our energy was definitely one of excitement. Selfies. Taking photos of the packed bags. Double-checking to ensure we had layers for when the sun came out and rain gear for wetter weather. It was only calling for high teens to low twenties and sun with scattered light showers all along our day's route, so we opted for leggings and rain jackets.

A few people have asked us about the touring group we went with, but it was really just us. We had a company arrange our B&B stays, send us maps and trail info, and cart our luggage from one town to the next, but that's it. We were a group of two, off to face this thing along, save for a few like-minded hikers that we happened upon on various legs of the hike.

Amped for an exciting day, we adjusted our walking poles to height, set our luggage out for the couriers, and hit the road!

Cloudy. No wind. Perfect.

We took six steps and it started to rain.

We zipped on raincoats, threw the camera bag's rain cover on it, and Nance whipped out the backpack cover she had bought for (or after?) a hike in Scotland years ago. All set, we started off again.

We took 30 steps and the sun came out.

Laughing, we adjusted our jackets to let in a breeze, and kept moving towards the road out of town. The first twenty minutes of this hike are indelibly etched in my memory simply because of our excitement. Everything was new - no sidewalks, the Irish road signs, even the road markers were all noteworthy and different from what we were used to.

Have I mentioned yet that I am allergic to bee stings? Well, it never occurs to me since the world is at a bee shortage, but holy beejaysus, there is not a shortage on the Dingle Peninsula. After day 1, I got used to them, but I was having a few "please, please, don't be mad at me for being here" moments.

The first part of our trek led us on roadways, which is, again, alarming and uncomfortable. People do not slow down to acknowledge pedestrians on the roads. Again, no sidewalks anywhere. But drivers wave a hello as they pass. "Hello, I may kill you! Sorry!"

We were tramping our way along a road that cut across a hillside, so the views were stunning. We passed pasture after pasture, old stone houses, and the ruins of many stone churches and other structures. We were shockingly close to cows and sheep, even getting a fright now and then when one would announce itself to us from a few feet away during a silent moment.

We eventually came to the first major sight of the day's walk - Minard Castle. Instagram link to said castle. (doesn't it burn you when you don't select that first letter you want linked!? Oh well.)

Minard Castle is in - surprise - Minard. It's a 16th century Fitzgerald castle and with its placement right on the waterfront, it is a stunning sight, even now, in ruins. You see it well ahead of arriving at its feet and it looks stately on approach. We read a little about the history of the castle and the area, and it was the site of bloody conflict. It all seems so Ozymandias now - fabulous old structures in ruins. Protecting no one. Ruled by no one.

I can't recall ever visiting a castle before, although I'm sure I have. Castles are a bit fancy for my usual tastes.

After stopping here a while and narrowly avoiding having an entire ant farm inside my boots (so thankful for gaiters!!!), we moved on.

From this point, we headed up a hill to experience one of the most bizarre situations we found ourselves in throughout the entire trip. We walked up a steep hill, along a trail. On both sides of us there was thick, tall vegetation, and I'm guessing the cows on the other sides of the vegetation were not happy that we were near. It was a cacophony of mooing. Constant, loud moos all around us. They sounded either alarmed or annoyed. I'm not good with differentiating cow emotion. Once we reached the top of Moo Valley, as we quickly dubbed it, we were both sweating and I think it had more to do with the emotion in the air than the sun or exertion.

At this point in the journal I wrote "Cow Valley and the Chorus of Agonized Moos" and "Moo Valley High". My sense of humour isn't to everyone's taste.

Right around here we spied other hikers. I believe one couple was from Finland. We never did catch the other couple as they veered off on some side road, halfway up a hill.

Yeah, we were supposed to go that way too.

When one is in the middle of nothing but pastures and isolation, perhaps one should think twice about why that other walking couple is headed in a different direction than oneself. But no, we didn't do that.

We were back on roads at this juncture, and the sun was beating down on us. Every now and again, we'd stop and sip water or have a snack, but this hill felt long and killer. The road was bendy and it had a significant amount of traffic. Only when we came to a T junction and saw other hikers coming perpendicular to us did we realize we had gone the long, long way around. In our defense, the Finnish couple did the same thing. Hmm, maybe they were following us.

Because who doesn't want to add an extra 3-4 km onto a walking trip around an entire peninsula, right?

Let me talk about the water sitch for a sec. See, we had a nice big bladder with us with plenty of water for both of us in it. Sadly, my tired face could not work it. Nuh-uh. We had endless conversations that went like this:

"Bite just a little"
"I am"
"Don't bite too hard"
"I'm not"
"Tug it"
"Uh huh"
"Easy! Easy!"
"Not getting anything"
"Try sucking harder"
"FAWK"

I only relied on the bladder on day 1. After that I switched to bottles. Nance had the bladder to herself and there were no further R+ rated conversations about the water bladder.

The hikers we had spotted at the T junction were a group of 6-8 Americans who we would see off an on for the rest of the day. About an hour after first seeing them, we ran into them as they stopped for a bathroom break in a small town and we went on ahead. Thankfully, we'd see them again later.

We meandered down long, wet trails, boggy fields, and then were back on yet another road walled by thick, brilliant hedges.

After quite sometime on this road, we were starting to wonder where the next marker would be. On this trail, every so often,you see a black post with a little yellow man marker that tells you you're on the right path. He often denotes significant turns.

While looking for him, we saw this:

Jeepers, right?

It was actually part of this:

Note the little yellow man leading over the ladder.

Fuck.

So, we stopped for a nutella sandwich and a banana, because...last supper, amirite? We couldn't see said bull inside the pen, but the field was huge and largely surrounded by tall hedges, much like every other pasture in Ireland.

Then we went up and over the stile and hoped for the best. When exactly did I become a person who willingly enters a clearly marked bull pen?

This story ends well, fortunately, for Mr Bull was off having fun in the cow pasture on the other side of us. We made good time getting through this particular field, managing to avoid the bull patty mines all over the place. We weren't sure whether he was there or not (the pasture wrapped over a hill) until we had high-tailed it all the way up through the pasture and over the exit stile.

Did I mention that on day 1, we decided this chapter of our lives should be titled, "Let's Go for a Walk...in Poop"?

Because there was a lot of poop. Sheep poop. Cow poop. The occasional horse poop. Goat poop. Poop. Poop. Poop.

For example, this is not mud.

And a lot of the paths had these fun signs!

Some were straightforward dirt roads.

Some came with the map warning, "may be a bit wet this time of the year".

Others had narrow metal bridges through what felt like paradise. Well, paradise plus scary bees. Scaradise.

Only on the loooooong road walks did we say "I need a fun snack. Now". The other terrain kept us interested, but the roads were sometimes long and laid out before us in endless swaths. 

Another common phrase of the day was, "stop hitting me with your poop stick".  Our walking poles were pretty shitty from morning until evening, and it was hard to manage the stiles, fences, drinking, eating, and other obstacles without the end of the poles flailing dangerously.

Somewhere after the bull, after the barking dogs, and before Dingle, we got a bit lost. Well, not lost lost, just not sure which way to go. The map read "go over the stile, pass two stone walls, and follow the path". Got it. Over the stile - check. But we couldn't find stone walls. Mind you, most stone walls are covered in brambles so thick, you'd never know they were there. 

We went North through the pasture, unsettling a few lady sheeps. Nope, didn't feel right. We went West, our path being ever westward - nope, not sure. I consulted the map while Nance headed South along a fence. When I looked up, I spotted a ram with his eyes set on Nancy's movement. I quietly called to her. Yeah, quietly called. Oxymoron that. "Babe. At your eleven o'clock, there's a ram watching you intently". Right about then, he started flicking his head in circles. I don't know much about ram speak, but I assumed that wasn't good. Then, using her great wisdom and physicality, my wife launched herself over a nearby barbed wire fence to escape an impending charge. 

I have since learned that farmers often call male sheep bucks, not rams. I am not editing my story. Backfill based on your new knowledge.

So, where are we? I'm on one side of a fence, with a stile in front of me that I know I have to go over. The angry ram/buck was on the other side. To my left, over a tall hedge/wall thingy was my wife. In a ditch. She managed to haul herself up over the stone wall - wait a second - we found the hidden stone wall! Hooray! Uh, yeah, she got herself out of there just as our friends, the noisy Americans arrived. 

See now, I don't think all Americans are loud. I lived in the grand ol' US of A and loved it. But this crew happened to be delightfully young and clamorous. And guess what? Male sheeps aren't fond of large groups of loud people. We all went over the stile and the head-bobbing tyrant was nowhere to be found. The group couldn't figure out which way to go either, but through trial and error Nance and I had figured it out and off we went.

The next kilometre or two or the trip were the poopiest and had the thickest mud of our entire hike. My high hikers threatened to suck their way off my feet a few times. Again, thank dog for gaiters. The Americans had fallen behind by then, several of their pack wearing low sneakers or hikers. None wore gaiters or had hiking poles. I remember as we pulled away from their group, one of the girls yelled back to her friends "It gets better" and I, trying to be helpful, yelled back to her "Sorry, it gets worse again!" as I mucked my way through unavoidable ankle high cow shit. I heard a small "fuck" from one of the guys.

The end of the day was a lot of field hiking with sheep all around us. The bucks would stand on guard but would politely move off the path if we lightly banged our poles on any rocks we passed. The final few kilometres were across a valley with views that would bring tears to your eyes. If reincarnation exists, I want to come back as a wild sheep in Southwest Ireland.

One thing I forgot about the weeks leading up to our trip - I had broken the pinky toe on my right foot, three week previous. It was purple and ouchie for a day or two, but then I simply...forgot about it. Well, right around the "Two km left to go" mark, my body decided to remind me. We were rounding the valley, coming out of field after field of sheep, and on the home stretch. When we hit road, my right foot felt uncomfortable. Huh. "Just tired, I guess," I thought to myself. 

Well, no. Not just tired. Broken, dumbass. But I still hadn't made the connection. I thought I had busted a toenail, which has happened on every race I've ever entered, or developed an ungodly rub blister. And let's face it, also on the table was the possibility that one of my many demons was trying to escape through the weakest point in my structure. 

The final two clicks were all downhill and by the time we got to our B&B I was limping, tearful, and trying to ignore the throbbing from my foot. Welcome to Dingle, baby. It's way down there.

We were pretty tired from the full day of walking but we were still all smiles right up until I got halfway down that hill.

We found our B&B - the very hospitable O'Neill's - left our boots, poles, and gaiters at the entrance, and were shown to our comfy room. A foot inspection revealed nothing but a red toe and inflamey area on my foot near the base of the toe. Huh. That's when Nance remembered I had broken the damn thing. Day one and heading into three more days of longer hikes on a broken toe/foot?

We showered and headed out to see a bit of the town. I hobbled along, wondering how I was going to muster the gumption to keep going, all the while knowing I'd be impossible to live with if I quit. Poor wifey. We talked about our options. 

In reality, we found a pub so I could consult Dr Guinness for advice. I knew I'd be a cranky mess pretty much forever if I bailed on the hike now. So, we drank our pints at a pub named O'Flaherty's, and talked it out. It was not a hopping spot while we were there, but the town itself was buzzing with tourists. Dingle is a perfectly lovely spot, although much more touristy than the rest of the peninsula. The homes are brightly coloured as are the shops and restaurants.

After a pint, things were looking up...mainly because I had been seated for twenty minutes - so we hit the grocery store for foot wrapping supplies. We planned on buddy taping it, bucking up, and hoping for the best! This is pretty much how I make my decisions. I've been living ten years with MS - a few days of walking on a broken toe couldn't be worse, right?! Right!

Once the decision was final and we had our supplies, we hit a restaurant recommended by our hilarious server in Annascaul, and grabbed another pint each for good measure. I couldn't manage a proper walk about the town but we hit a number of shops in the downtown area and picked up a few souvenirs, including a tiny glass sheep for the wee nephew, lover of all small things. Fun fact: Dingle has an unusually high number of ice cream shops. We went to one to try different flavours and I had a sea salt ice cream. Keeping with a scrumptious theme, Nance tried the brown bread. Brown bread is everywhere in Ireland. And it should be. Deeelish.

We made our way back to the B&B before dark and enjoyed the comfort of the room before heading to bed for an early turn in. On the MS side of things, I was tired but not fatigued. We had planned out heat solutions well in advance, so I always had layering options.

xo

part iii: Annascaul

Yes, I know it's taking me forever.

So, Annascaul, or Anascaul or, in Irish, Abhainn an Scáil or Abha na Scáil. Whatever name you choose, that's where we found ourselves.

I woke to the sound of a sheep bleating in the neighbour's backyard. It's actually an effective alarm clock and who can get mad at a cotton candy goat?

Before setting out on the hike, we had this beautiful day in this beautiful town to rest. The day's plans were to maybe do some light wandering, check out the farmer's market and see what trouble we could find.

Breakfasts at the B&Bs were quite an ordeal. Without ordering breakfast, you'd get cereals, fresh brown bread, toast, fruit, coffee, tea, and juice. Most places offered yogurts and some sort of pastry as well. The night before, you'd place your breakfast order for hot food. Every B&B had a different process for ordering, and at Annascaul House we had to fill in a little form and leave it on the front table so Noel could run to the market across the street before they closed. Cooked options were smoked salmon, porridge (made with Bailey's Irish Cream in most places we stayed), eggs done however you'd like, bacon, sausage, and white or black pudding.

Being from Newfoundland, I knew the latter options weren't delightful custards of any sort and steered far clear of them. Growing up, I knew black pudding as blood pudding. Pork meat, pork fat, beef or mutton fat, and a binder of bread and sometimes oatmeal. Blood optional. Without blood, it's called white pudding. With oatmeal, it sometimes has the tricky name of oatmeal pudding. Don't be fooled!

It's no wonder we don't eat meat.

After we had a very full breakfast, our host suggested a few sights for us to take in. People in Ireland are especially excited to offer the names of favourite pubs. He also mentioned the farmer's market and a nearby lake.

The sky was a mezmerizing blue but it was a cool day, so a little walk to a lake sounded inviting. We got a quick set of instructions from Noel - one or two kilometres down the road past the bridge. We'd see a sign for Tom Crean's grave. Go right and go through a gate to get to the lake.

We opted for the lake and after checking out the market, we found the bridge, and started down a road lines with tall fuchsia hedges. The wildflowers were stunning.

Twenty minutes or so into our walk, we were wondering where the lake was. We had yet to see much beyond a few homes, cows, and the odd black and white farm dog. We were not moving at any great speed, so we kept going, assuming the gate would be around the next corner.

In the meantime we were in awe of the flora. This may sound silly but I had no idea that holly grew much bigger than knee high shrubs. Imagine my surprise as we passed massive towering holly trees!

Squinty wife for scale.

By this point, we were 40 minutes into our walk and where the heck was the lake?

Finally we saw a little sign denoting the burial site, so we knew we were on the right course. The distance wasn't bothering me but it was warming up and I was in a cotton hoodie and jeans. Not the best "I have MS and have to stay cool" outfit.

We happened upon an older couple who were also tourists in search of the lake. Still nowhere in sight, but further proof that we were heading the right way.

So, it turns out that heading to the lake that's a kilometer or two up the road, on your rest day, can turn into a 12km trek. Twelve kilometers. In cotton and denim. 

Mind you, once we found the lake, it was beautiful. It was surrounded by steep, treeless mountains, speckled with sheep, of course. The water was calm and the surface reflected the tall peaks surrounding it. It was surreal to walk through a valley with sheep bleating far overhead. They echoed into a chorus of wooly cries. Not gonna lie, most of them sounded bored.

While we took in the lake and stopped for a few photos, the couple we had met along the way caught up to us for a chat. They were from Florida and were overwhelmed by the landscape around us. I pointed out one particularly sure footed sheep high on the mountain behind us and we left them there with their cameras pointed up at the wee bahhing cloud.

We made our way back to town, taking in the vibrant scenery, careful to listen for traffic on the twisty, teeny roads.

Wingspan wife for scale. This is not a one-way road.

When we finally made our way back to town after walking 12 kilometers on our rest day (do you get the sense this pickled my grits some?), we popped into a café for a bite to eat. To backtrack, we were not having a terrible time.

Instagram link to happy faces.

Up until this point we hadn't been eating fabulous lunches or suppers. There aren't a ton of veg options in most small towns, unless you want fries. When we saw chana masala on a chalkboard sign we basically ran inside the café. Nance ordered the masala and I got some kinda sandwich. Brie, spinach, pear, and cranberry on brown bread with a slightly tart vinaigrette. To. Die. For.

We didn't want to leave.

Curious about the plants of the area, we asked our waitress about one we had seen that looked a lot like humongous rhubarb. One leaf could obscure an entire person.

"Oh," she said, "that's giant rhubarb." Go figure. The shop owner filled her in on the plant's real name, Gunnera. She informed us with a smile that it's "not to be confused with...the other". Only in Ireland can waitresses make STD jokes at lunch seem appropriate and charming.

She was lovely, though, and asked all about our trip - where we were from and where we were headed. She even drew up a list of sights to see in Dingle when we got there. She also told us that there was quite a time across the street the night before and it got wild. That's Hanafins. The place we left as all the women loving women were getting tipsy. We missed a good time from all accounts.

After a bite to eat, we turned in to pack our bags for the next day's hike and to catch some Olympics. During our stay at Annascaul House we met people from Germany, France, the Netherlands, and New Jersey. Yes, I did just equate the land of Bon Jovi with countries.

That concludes our pre-hike portion of the trip. The next day would bring us from Annascaul to the town of Dingle via Lispole. It was calling for sun and rain. Lots to prepare for!

xo

part I: Dublin

Holy shamrocks, I have a lot of words to type!

I longhanded our trip highlights and that's a lotta pages, so I'll try to pluck the plumpest grapes for storytelling. Or not - you know me, I tend to ramble.

So, Ireland. Short version: I loved it. You can stop reading now.

Dublin is one of those big cities that somehow holds onto a healthy smattering of charm despite the rush of crowds and traffic. Colourful buildings, whimsical decor, and an overall positive feeling. Humour is injected into storefront signs, and pub names are frequently bawdy or otherwise entertaining, much like home. This pub is not named for what you'd expect.

I don't know if people in bigger cities have the same level of friendliness as reported, but coming from Newfoundland, the land of slaughtering you with kindness, it's hard to judge. Friendly enough.

One thing that stuck out to me right away was the lack of cell phones. People aren't as glued to their cells there as we are here in Canada. On any given day I see the mobile appendages of most of my friends. They're on the table at restaurants, even if we're resisting the urge to check every bleep and chirp. In Dublin, you rarely see a table full of mute young people thumbing their phones. There aren't signs advertising free wifi at every turn either.

In pubs, you don't see hordes of people with their hands glued to their ears or fiddling with lit crotches in cafes. Phones almost seem to be used as phones. It's refreshing.

I'm off topic. Surely that's not the most impressive thing about Dublin, but it's damn impressive.

We had opportunity to see the massive Dublin Castle complex and Gothic/Romanesque Christ Church Cathedral, with its medieval edifice. The architecture of the city is head turning and I'm sure an architecture walking tour would have been fascinating had we more time. Ireland has a thick, dark history and you can't walk ten feet without tripping over something old and impressive...and heartbreaking. So much turmoil.

And, in the current age, such rich entertainment. Theatres left, right, and centre. Ads for shows and live music at every turn. You'd spend ages scoping out an endless line of performances.

Trying to fit as much in as possible, we hit The Brazen Head pub (instagram link), established in 1198 (according to the pub and some historians...not all). Nice pint of Guinness, that. We discovered packaged condiments on the table here and wondered at the mysterious Brown Sauce. And left it at wondering. Some mysteries are best unsolved. Packaged condiments are only really found in fast food restaurants in our region, but they were in every pub and restaurant we visited in Ireland.

On the condiment note - big props for never having to ask for malt vinegar anywhere! Always on the table. Ireland, Newfoundland, and PEI share the vinegar love.

We did a lot of walking around the city and over the many bridges across the River Liffey, but paced ourselves on pubs. Heading into a week of hiking, we didn't want to be carrying hangovers with us. We wandered to the hallowed grounds of Guinness via some sketchy roads suggested by Google and later popped into Darkey Kelly's for live music and beer sampling. Nance sampled. I ordered Guinness. Why order anything else when you've found perfection? The Irish sure know how to pour a good black pint - perfectly cooked and then topped before delivery. Pay attention, SJ pubs!

Darkey Kelly's was, once upon a time, a brothel and is now named after its madam, Dorcas "Darkey" Kelly. Kelly was accused of killing a shoemaker on St. Patrick's Day in 1760...or 1746 (history is wibbly in Ireland) Kelly was hanged and burned at the stake for the crime and for witchcraft. Or for the alleged murder of her child. Hard to know which factual account to believe. Investigators later found four or five skeletons (depending on which historian you side with) in the brothel vaults, placing Kelly among the world's earliest known female serial killers.

A peculiar bit of history to attach to a pub, but whatever floats your boat. The music was crackin' and the beers were delicious. I also loved that the pub had a "no ball cap or tracksuits" rule. Gotta love a former brothel owner/serial killer's home that has standards!

Oddities: 

• having the washroom security code printed on the Starbucks receipt and then having to unlock again from the inside to get out. They sure are big on toilet security.
• Paying 20p to pee in a mall. What if you don't have change, people!? I rarely have silver on me! Come to Canada - peeing is free!

Now, let me warn you if you've never been there - the sidewalks in Dublin are meant to test you. They are legitimately out to get you under ideal conditions - under a clear bright sky you still have to look down. One moment you're walking on cobblestone, the next minute there's a nice big gap out of nowhere and you're on angled cement, then pavement, uneven brickwork, then back to stone. So, I can only assume that people who have had a few pints either get a cab, walk in the streets, or give the fuck up and sit on a stoop until they can navigate the neck cracky pathways.

Exhibit A.

Happily, we stopped after a few pints and got back to our B&B with our ankles intact.

Our Dublin lodgings were an Airbnb adventure that panned out reasonably well. We had a private room with a queen-sized bed. Hysterically, the bed was the lower bunk in a set of bunkbeds. I don't know why this amused me so much, but I kept picturing someone else walking in to claim the top single bunk. We shared the household bathroom with our Brazilian hosts.

Our interaction with our hosts was minimal since we were there for such a short stay. We did meet another guest, Ryan from... I dunno, the US somewhere. Georgia? The best part of this household was undoubtedly the bulldog puppy. I was in love. Beautiful pup. Couldn't figure out how to carry her on the hike, though, so I didn't pupnap her.

Bibs and bobs: they showed us how to use the powered shower, having never seen one before. On/off. Start/stop. Pretty easy.

The shower mat was a wooden crate top. I like it. No wet mat.

We found the train station the night before leaving so we could figure out our itinerary. My sister-in-law just cringed, I'm sure. We don't plan things out much. It usually works out.

No one at the Dublin train station had ever heard of our destination, Annascaul. 

Hmm. They consulted this map and that map, and it was nowhere to be found. The lovely Dublin train employee called the nearest train station to the Dingle Peninsula, Tralee. The employee of the Tralee station ran across the road to the Tralee bus station to see if it headed to Annascaul. And success! After much laughter, googling, and map reading we were all set for the next morning. The train people even told us to buy our tickets online to cut the cost nearly in half. Super helpful!

I'd do a short stint in Dublin again, for sure, but our destination was the countryside, so we were eager to leave the city bustle behind and get going.

Wifey and blue bag of awesome.

The next day was a travel day of trains, buses, tiny roads, mild fear (see previously mentioned buses and then add previously mentioned tiny roads), and more pubs! Shocker, I know.

From an MS perspective, no problem with the flight length, I was getting plenty of rest, and the weather was cool. No trouble with the time zone difference either. All systems go!

Dingle bound!

xo 

life as it is

I have been pretty busy since moving back to the big city of #saintawesome. It's been a flurry of cleaning, unpacking, organizing, and general prettification, and we're finally getting back to normal.

Well, more normal after a yard sale. And some shelves.

I'm not sure what kind of environmental hoohaw has occurred since we left but this has been a sweltering, brain mushing week. Trying to think through porridge. It's been in the low 30s the last four days and that slows the aforementioned progress to a drunk sloth's pace.

With the heat comes symptoms, of course. Shittiest cracker jack surprise ever - here's some sunshine and heat and hidden inside is the lasting sensation of carpet burn for your left arm, and spider webs on your right! Go, me!

But, screw that kind of talk because our late honeymoon in Ireland is drawing nigh and we couldn't be more excited! I have been making lists of the essentials - passports, adapters, extra card for the camera, and candy. natch. I have a sweet tooth on hikes. I blame Robyn Benincasa for that. Too much time watching her eat Twizzlers in the Eco-Challenges. Funny, she ate jerky too but I have no I penchant for that. I realize how obscure this reference is. It's hot, remember. My brain is as floppy as an over easy poach.

Nance's parents, aka the guests/ petsitters, arrive tonight or tomorrow, depending on how tired they are after the gulf cruise. It's about a six hour drive after the ferry. Blergh.

It'll be great to spend some time with them before we fly out. Fun to not have an agenda for a few days. We'll have almost a week with them to get them used to the animals and their habits. I am excited that they're bringing little Luce too. They have had her for years but it seems like only last year Nance found her wandering the highway in the middle of nowhere. She's a cutie. She and Abbey and Ringo will have to figure it all out. Luce never liked Abbey (jealous boots/resource guarder) and Ringo used to stalk the little dog. Sooo, we'll see!

We have very thoughtful friends who have offered to take Abbey out for exercise now and then, so we'll leave all appropriate numbers for the babysitters. Our dog needs a village.

It will be so strange not to see Abbey for that long. We kennelled her once when we went to Québec and once for something I don't remember but other than that, she's been with me from the moment she got off the plane from her kennel. Is it weird that I am emotional at the thought? Probably. Blaming that on Tara. I spent part of the morning looking at photos of a dog she lost recently. Heart tugs. lots of good memories.

Nance is also en route as we...as I type. She's still working in the Northwest, so I get her for ends of weeks and weekends. Not ideal but it is what it is. Can't wait to see her. We're sickening, really. If people knew how lovey we are at home, it'd be a vomfest.

So, yeah. Ireland. We have the first seven days planned, I believe. After that we're considering England. Not to see Big Ben, nope, not Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, the Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, nor Madame Tussauds either...no, no. We'd be going for the sea glass. Yes. Sea glass. In Seaham. I swear she's okay with it.

We may end up happily staying in Ireland for the entirety of our travels. Who knows. It will be fantastic, no matter what we do. We need to sort it soon, though. Accommodations are on the dear side in the UK. Airbnb has been great for planning, so far. We're staying at a proven gay-friendly spot in Dublin our first night. Safety first!

Let's see...what have I missed? We did a Color Run. Hilarious and fun right up until the point where MS threw up the middle finger at being in the sun for so long. Got confused near the end. Meh, still had a lot of fun.

It is super having friends so close again. This was a good move.

On that note, I should go chill some frosties for my wife.

Oh, she's home. Later dudes.

xo

happy campers? Well, you won't be after this!

We are The Happy Campers and that was our welcome to this year's E2C.

I promised an update on the endurance race so here it is!

We left our hotel on an overcast morning and made our way to registration at a nearby fire hall. Once there, I kept overhearing the volunteers utter the same word - mud. I love the great outdoors so the idea of getting dirty doesn't faze me, but I wasn't sure that all day in the mud was all that appealing. It didn't put a damper on my excitement though, so we grabbed our t-shirts, maps, and directions to the Start and off we went!

Side note: my excitement looks much like my every day RBF. Internally it's all ferris wheels and lollipops, but little makes it to my outer expression.

The course was on active logging territory and the clay-clogged, bumpy, slow, 10 km ride down a dirt road showed us what we were in for - mud, mud, bogs, standing open water, windfall, long stretches of road, and trips through beautiful moss carpeting. I wasn't feeling overly optimistic about the "no bug" dance I had done that morning.

The E2C has a very energetic, supportive vibe, much like other races. Walking to the start area reminded me how invigorating it is to be surrounded by like-minded people. Waterproof hikers, gaiters, poles, gloves - everyone was geared to have a fun, filthy day. We dressed Abbey in her high vis vest and she was making friends at every parked car we passed. Vehicle hoods were covered in maps and compasses. Teams who had already done the gear check were huddled around their maps plotting their routes while we were busy talking serious snack strategies.

Because snacks matter.

If you didn't read my last post, we were two teams: Nancy, Abbey, and I were our own troupe, and two adult friends and their 10-year old kids were our accompanying gang. Super fun group. We made our way to the equipment check and showed that we all had the necessary items - compass, watch, matches, knife, whistle, and water. The volunteers were on the ball and made sure we had snacks for the dog too...as if we'd go anywhere without scooby snacks.

We had twenty minutes or so to wait for opening announcements. I am happy to report that unlike the last time we did this race, I wasn't attacked by mosquitoes and black flies. We took a quick look at the map so we could head to a cluster of controls and maximize our chances of early success. A quick "have fun, don't go near active logging" speech later and we were issued our punch cards and waiting for the horn. In the meantime, someone launched a drone. Now, you may or may not know my dog, but let me tell you, she ain't a fan of flying, buzzing things and the drone was no exception. Nothing like 10 minutes of straight barking at the sky to get things underway! Good times.

Then we were off! The crowd thinned pretty quickly and we slowed to make a more detailed plan and unhook Abbey. She's a great little hiker and leaving her on leash for eight hours was not an option. The only problem was that in the excitement, she ran around the side of a parked car and disappeared. We fanned out. Nancy went down one road. I went down another. Nothing. No Abbey. She has impeccable recall, but wherever she had wandered, she either didn't hear us or was too confused to find her way back.

Let's talk about panic for a minute. I have full on panicked very few times in life. Once in an MRI machine. Once when trapped behind a mattress moving it up a stairwell. Once when I thought someone stole my dog from the car. I could feel the beating, thrashing monster of panic trying to break free from its cage again. My dog is my constant companion. Yelling her name and not seeing her smiling face appear DOES. NOT. HAPPEN.

After a few minutes standing around yelling her name, whistling, and asking people if they had seen the dog, we agreed that our little team would stay handy and the others would get moving down the closest road to head to the first control point. We started off in another direction to see if she had skipped behind us unseen. My gut told me to stop and stay still, though, and after a few very long minutes, our friend Katie hollered that they had found her. Races are very exciting - what is a dog to do? Lots of people. Lots of noise. A drone overhead to get you all worked up. Next thing you know, you're unleashed and following the closest set of legs into the woods. She was sticking with a team of women and they must have heard one of us yelling because they asked our friends if we were missing a dog. She had been running up and down a path once she realized she was with Others.

The monster in my chest settled down and we were on our way to our first flag. Not the start I had envisioned.

The kids did all the punch card work and made the day that much better. I would totally do this event with children again. We didn't fill out the full 8 hours, but we covered a lot of ground and called it quits when our quiet group got even quieter.

I won't go into every detail here, but will give you the highlights and observations:

• No bugs = way better time
• There are a lot of snakes in windfall areas. My wife is deathly afraid of snakes. There was a lot of "don't come this way - go around!"
• Sometimes children ask "are we lost" a lot. We weren't. Mostly.
• Finding three flags in the first hour when you have littles and a dog is pretty amazing!
• Covering 18km with two littles is way impressive.
• Leapfrogging saves time. Backtracking does not,but provides opportunity to take a photo of those frog eggs you noticed on the way in.
• Frog eggs sometimes glow blue
• Having children on the team enhances the event. Their smiles when we'd find a flag were huge. Their stories were entertaining. Highly recommended.
• Raspberry bushes and wild rose saplings like to grab ankles.
• Sometimes half a kilometre feels like way more.
• Sometimes half a kilometre feels like way less.
• My daily 8 km walks made this event breezy. Even the high stepping didn't cause my hip flexors complaint.
• MS sucks. In case you had forgotten.

On the MS side of things, things went much better than last time. The sun popped out for 40 minutes or so and I did get weird in my head during that time, but it was manageable. Frustrating, but manageable. Nance kept the water handy and friends checked in on me when I was lagging. I appreciate that people are aware of how heat affects me and think to ask how I'm doing.

I did crash hard when wifey and I got back to the hotel. Something MS-y hit me and I was shaky and finding it hard to speak. It didn't last long, but I opted to stay in for the evening to give my body what it was asking for.

Nance rounded out the day with a trip to see her sister and famjam. The kids and moms hit Toys R Us and the pool. I sat on the couch/bed and gave doggins a massage as she slept. All in all, a great day!

Other notes from this road trip: 

Marshmallow guns are hilarious and I have to buy some for camping trips this summer.

Nance conjures the sea glass gods on every outing and finds amazing pieces.

My favourite beach is still my favourite.

Pills sometimes stick to ceilings. Don't ask.

I miss Saint John.

xo

Oh, and that woman was wrong. We will always be happy campers.

wandering in the fog and the woods

To get the MS update over with, yes, my vision continues to be toast in my left eye.

That's all I have to report.

On to other things!

We have signed up for the Halifax Regional Search & Rescue's Eco-Endurance Challenge again! It's an orienteering adventure held in the woods of Nova Scotia. Nance and I entered the 8-hour recreational category as a two-person team, The Happy Campers (t-shirts and all, yo). The countdown is on and it's only 10 days away.

We are excited to meet up with team Jedis and Padawans - friends and their kids. So, that's four adults, two 10-year olds, and two bouncy dogs in one suite. Should be hilarious. I am very curious how the kids will do over an 8-hour stretch searching for flags with a compass and map. That's a long time on your feet! Snacks and games will be key to prevent grumpiness. My grumpiness, that is.

The last time we went on this adventure, we were team Huffin' Puffins, joined by my father-in-law and brother-in-law. I was very excited, but it was brutal. Ticks, heat, and the flies were so thick, we were inhaling them. Actually, let's not go down this road of expounding all the bad things about that day now that I've signed up for it again. We survived! And it's totally live and learn. Bringing tick deterrent this time and planning for heat.

Ah yes, heat - my arch nemesis. The bane of most people with MS. It steals my tongue and blindfolds my feet. This time I will be bringing a cooling towel, sun or no sun. It's bad enough to be confused and start talking and walking funny when near home - super not fun when you're miles from help. Team Happy Campers is planning ahead and will be ending this one as happy campers, dammit!

I'll report back when the event is over and see how that turned out.

In other news...

Spring is finally springing on the homestead and that means a new season of groans in this old house. Paging Bob Vila! Nothing too pressing or we'd ask the owner to call in a professional, but this week one of the toilets needed fixing and the dryer needed a new vent (putting an end to the rodent superhighway and icy porch). Enter my love of tools.

No one was hurt. I'm handier than I look.

I have been on an 8km a day kick lately and it is HARD. Not the walking itself. I feel great and my legs are functioning just fine these days. Frankly, New Denmark is rich in 1) potatoes, and 2) land. Wide open spaces - you'd think this would be a cinch, right? Naw. It's so fricken' windy because of the lack of...anything. So, walking gets tricky. I wear earplugs most of the time to keep the wind from blowing my thoughts away. Also, there's a lot of bear scat in the fields now and we saw one a few days ago, so field walks are much more careful now. Also also, there are no sidewalks or anything resembling shoulders on the roads, so it's a bit risky. Especially with ear plugs. Also*3, people here don't fence or tie their dogs (yay!) so I am greeted and followed by strange dogs no matter which direction I try (boo!). Yesterday Abbey and I walked two km with a lovely mixed breed, Maya.

Adorable, yes, but I couldn't keep going and have her follow me the other 5 km back home. Or, I suppose I could have, but then I'd have worried about her not making it home safely [note above section on lack of sidewalks or shoulders].

So, there it is. Walking is officially harder when you have massive space in which to roam. Or something. And now I'm paying to go do just that in the woods. ;)

xo

runneth over

Another grand adventure under our belts and we stuffed ourselves to the brim with laughter.

We are back in New Denmark after a 10-day road trip to see some of the famjam during Santa time, and we packed a lot into those days.

On our whirlwind adventure we: 

• Slept on cots in our house in Saint John 

• Had a sudden hellish stomach flu (me)

• Met up with a handful of friends (Nance only for most of them. See list item b.)

• Watched an important basketball game. Go, Rush!

• Played tipsy ukulele with my brother. Nod to Angela for her fab recorder skills.

• Played Anomia and pictionary competitively...against children. Cutthroat. 

MS note: actually having anomia does not make the game harder.

• Made our way to the city of pizza corners!

• Embraced the bounty of trails Halifax has to offer. We three miss living near sprawling parks like Point Pleasant or SJ's Rockwood. Just seeing Abbey on a beach for a few minutes made me tear up. I have to admit, though, our snowy potato fields are pretty good playgrounds too, even if you have to keep watch for coyotes.

• Shopped a little, but mostly gawked slackjawed at all the traffic, people, and shiny things

• Pretended we were everything from spaceships to British pigs and tickle monsters

• Visited with family (or tried to steal kittens, depending on your perspective) and watched tenacious adults struggle with 3D character puzzles for hours. I got a text after midnight showing Tinkerbell in all her 3D glory. When did kids' toys get so tricky?

It's been far too long since I spent quality time with some of dad's clan. Feels like home.

What else? We:

• Learned about the barbarous trading world of Shopkins

• Went to see Tina Fey's Sisters movie. Almost turned around and went back into the same theatre for a second viewing. So funny. 

• Got soul refreshment in the piles and heaps of giggles that emanate from three-year olds, especially in the presence of nose thieves and toe snatchers

• Acquired peace of mind by trading in tiny car for transportation with all wheel drive - take that, Klokkedahl Hill.

• Oh, and we have 800 movies to watch thanks to the best brother-in-law ever! Winter just got cozier!

That's the short list. Top mentions go to sharing meals and stories with our siblings and being with a very happy little boy sometime before 7 AM on Christmas morning. Moments that matter.

On the MS side, I am moderately symptomatic, but nothing too out of the ordinary. I know I have not been getting adequate rest and hope that things get back to normal now that we're home and can gradually get our house in order again. Very much hoping to lose the nagging leg pain, but it doesn't impair my function, so there's that. Silver linings. 

I loved every moment of our holiday hijinks, minus the stomach bug while sleeping on a cot, but it's also good to be back so we can unpack and start making this house feel like home. The adage that home is where the heart is has never felt truer. Home is with my little family, wherever we land.

merry ho ho

xo

Oh, did I mention we're doing an 80km walking holiday in Ireland in August? Maybe I did. Prepare for lots of whining about walking. Who am I kidding, I don't even update enough for "lots of" anything. ;)