The Truth About Cats and Dogs in Black and White

Labour Day Weekend. (1) Our first adventure took us on a barefoot hike to the falls. Our barefeet took us through mud, no doubt laced with some random wildlife feces, through an overflowing brook, and into a waterfall swimming hole. This was followed by wave teasing, rock finding, staring the ocean while in Downward Facing Dog, and jellyfish avoidance. (2) Then we discovered that 3 more perfect roomates could not exist. Each devoutly attached to our respective tents, we pitched 3 rather robust double occupancy tents, representing 3 of the most respected outfitting operations in the world. Welcome to tri-city. The triangular formation allowed for maximum socialisation.

After turkey supper the evening took the form of an in the dark, aided by matching headlamps, foraging for firewood. Success. The fire pit was set aflame to the sounds of waves crashing on the distance sandbar while gentler ripples tugged at the edges of the fire pit which lay amidst of the rock n roll piano (rock) and the ketchup holding rock. The sound of guitars and drums and fireworks, voices, and broken glass filled the starry night while the fullness of lager filled our turkey laden bellies. The evening progressed into deep thought and light philsophical whispers replaced the chaotic vibrations.

Morning brought the promise of great adventure. Following in the footsteps of those who came before we trounced after the leader into a mosaic of heathlands and bogs, interspersed with the familiar erractics of the avalon. Here on the ithsmus the glaciers left the evidence of their might. We struggled to keep up with the swift movement of our leader but lost in the unmatched placement of our footholds. For some, the trail snacking was the culprit of the sloth movements but how could one resist the open-bar canteen of berry treats along the way. Others were lost in the surroundings, left breathless by the rock formations, the lay of the land envelopping the small crew. (3) Finally, we descended upon a small pond, hopefull for good fortune in the absence of true fly fishing skill. Success. After about an hour, our treasure chest (refursbished camera bag) held 7 trout. Many others were returned to weather another winter under the ice, perhaps to reach frying pan size by the next season.

All in all a much needed retreat. And could there be a better weekend. Hiking, mudbaths, waterfalls, marshmallows, good friends, family, beer, music, beaches, rocks, fish, tents, beer, fire, turkey, beer, beer...