Mer bleu

We hiked in a downpour and lived to tell the tale!

I had a quick snack after work, and then we drove to an area near Innis Rd that offers a network of trails and parking areas. Standing in the parking lot beside the car, we thoroughly soaked our limbs with max strength bug spray. "Once bitten, twice shy!" winked D, referring to our fly-infested outing at Murphy's Point last week. We hit the woods, excited as kids.

The path was a gentle walk for most of the 7-8 km. One of the first sights we met when starting off was of handmade birdhouses hanging from trees.

Homemade birdhouses swinging on limbs of an old tree

The path started off in the forest and led us into beautiful open fields that smelled of honeysuckle. We saw black eyed susans, and hopping toads - and then a bolt of lightning in a darkened area of the sky. About ten minutes later the rain fell. It didn't dip in a toe, holding back shyly and pondering whether it should enter our existence, which was nice and dry, thank you very much. It just fell, and all at once, as though gravity had suddenly given way. 

D calmly put on his rain jacket, while I, ever the city slicker, grabbed my little blue umbrella from my backpack. The rain was as thick as a grey curtain and made seeing the path signage more difficult. But we discovered the reason for the trail's name! All indications point to the massive puddles that form in the middle of the path. Blue sea, indeed.

Canada Day ride

Who doesn't love a national holiday star-crossed with a heat wave and topped off with a severe weather warning? I do, I do! I heard that, short of scaling the wall like Spider-man, it's nearly impossible to gain access to my office building today. I couldn't work today even if I wanted to! It's pretty great, unless you have to don your employee costume and go to work. Which is what D did a few hours ago. He is a trooper.

I finally washed down my bike and took that long ride I'd been promising myself since the flood a month ago or more. Small steps like washing the grime from the cogs and the chain, and then dripping a light coat of lubricant seemed more daunting than they actually were. Am I really this lazy? With a clean, smooth chain on my otherwise dirt-encrusted bicycle I followed the very populated bike path over the bridge. 

Arriving at the marina, I was taken with the sky, as the entire cloud cover - most of the sky - was moving preternaturally swiftly in a single direction. The clouds were still quite pale, so I figured I had sufficient time to take the break I had been eagerly anticipating. Biking is awesome and easy, but bike shorts and seats a little less so. 

I pulled up to a picnic table and munched a few almonds and a Clif bar while watching a small sailboat stripped of all its sails dance a demonic salsa upon powerful waves the colour of mud. It bobbed so harshly that I couldn't look away. It didn't seem to be anchored to anything more substantial than the mud floor, and appeared destined for mishap. Yet it stubbornly continued to hold on. 

It hasn't rained yet, and I wonder if the sailboat is still bobbing on the waves, biding its time until it is set free to sail around the world!