stubsadventures

My adventures did have a distinct starting point. When I was 22, I took a winter survival course as leadership development working at the Boys and Girls Club in Halifax. It was two days of learning to survive in the woods, in the coldest time of year with minimal supplies. The second night was a solo exercise where you had a build a shelter and stay in it without anyway to communicate over night. It was probably at that time, the most uncomfortable I had ever been in my life between the cold and fighting my imagination in the dark woods for hours.

After that course, I learned what I was really made of and was ready for more. Poncho and I planned a 54km hike around a national park in NS. The hike was around the exterior of the park and we were the first people that season to do it. It was raining when we started out and rained on and off for the rest of the day. Day one, we took a wrong turn that added about 5km to the day. Generally not a big deal, until you are carrying a 50+lbs pack. The first night was uneventful other than how hard it was to sleep because of the rain. The next day, it wasn’t kind of raining, it was pouring. It never let up once all day and by mid day, we were walking in water up to our knees. We were doing the hike in May, so the ground was still frozen, keeping most of the water from soaking into the ground. When we got to our campsite that night, it was completely underwater. By that time, our spirits were dampened, we were soaked to the core, our feet were unbelievable sore from hiking almost 30km and we had to backtrack several km’s to try to break into a warden’s cabin we had seen. Poncho stealthy broke in (through an unlocked window) and we were thrilled to be out of the rain. Literally, every step was painful at this point and we were so grateful for a warm, dry place to sleep.

The next day, we woke up to a clear sunny day and we were pumped! Finally, a day without rain brightened our spirits and we were determined to get this thing done. We set out all smiles! Our energy level came crashing down when a couple of kms into the day, we encountered a bog. After reading the map over and over again, going over all  the scenarios there were no options but to cross the bog, what we were looking for was on the other side of it. Away we went, through freezing cold water that was up to our waists for several hours, looking for the bridge we needed to cross the huge raging river.

What we didn’t know, was that it had rained over 100mm in the last two days and the river had come up so high, it had washed away the bridge. Not being able to find the  bridge, we assumed we were lost. We wandered for hours through the water trying to find it before coming to the realization that according to the map, and our current location we had three options. #1 – somehow manage to cross the river which was at least 30ft wide and raging from the amount of rain. #2- hike back out the way we had just come, which meant back tracking more than 30km or #3, call for help. Using the topo map, we found the highest point and I called the park warden. He told me that they had been waiting to hear from us and that if we hadn’t called them by that evening that they were coming in to look for us. Then he told me they were sending a chopper to come pick us up. He asked us if we had seen a warden’s cabin and without telling him we stayed there, we said yes.

The next couple of hours involved us not actually believing what was happening, trying to find the path again and barely being able to take steps because of the intense pain our legs and feet were in. We eventually made our way back to the cabin and waited at the helipad for the chopper to come. When I watched it come over the horizon, it felt like we were in a movie. They had to take us back separately because our packs were so heavy and I was taken back first because I had been navigating and had to give a statement. Poncho went second, and they flew her over the area we had hiked. The park warden said that he has never seen the water like that in his career.

The rescue cost the province over $4000. Luckily, because we had registered for the hike and had all the correct maps and navigating equipment, we weren’t responsible for the cost. Free helicopter ride!

Stubs.

I find ghost towns fascinating and terrifying all at the same time. There is something about a bunch of old, isolated houses that are abandoned, falling apart and being over grown that gets my attention. These towns at one time were all vibrant and full of life and now, they seem forgotten, left behind and oh so creepy.

Driving around, I half expect an old dude to come flying out one of the front doors that I’m taking a picture of with a gun pointed at me, yelling at me to get out of his town. This is Alberta, I believe that possible. Most of the towns I’ve gone to are actually considered semi-ghost towns, meaning there are still a few folks left hanging on, which almost adds to the creepy factor. It’s hard to believe these are entire houses that people just walked away from. Being a homeowner, I couldn’t imagine having to walk away from the house I worked so hard for but for a lot of these communities, that’s what happened when the railway was rerouted or stopped going to the town at all. So really, I believe anything possible when I’m going to check out a new one. I always seemed to be reminded of the movie The Hills Have Eyes when I enter one of these towns, especially when I’m alone. No one can for sure tell me there is human eating mutants waiting for me and that’s what I see happening on one of these expeditions.

I have a favorite ghost town story. So, in 2010, I drove all the way around NFLD. It was amazing. While spending some time on the Bonavista Peninsula there were a couple of coastal ghost towns that I had wanted to check out. I contacted a tour company, (one guy) a few months before leaving and asked him how much a private tour would cost because I wanted to take a lot of pictures and I ask about four million questions. He said that he didn’t do private tours because his morning and afternoon tours were always full and it wasn’t cost-effective. I asked him if he would consider doing an evening tour for me and made him an offer that would make it worth his time. He politely declined and I told him that I would see him in August.  When my time in NFLD came, I called and booked myself in on a group tour. When I showed up that afternoon, the captain apologized and told me that this never happens, that no one else had booked a tour for that afternoon. He asked me if I minded coming back in the morning because it wasn’t very cost-effective to take one person out. I smiled (he at this point has no idea who I am) and said that it wouldn’t be a problem. I stood on the dock and talked to him for about an hour, about what his life was like, what happened to the communities, about old NFLD politics. At the end of our conversation, he said that even if I was the only person again in the morning that we would go out for sure, he could tell it meant a lot to me. The next morning, I show up and I’m not kidding, I was the only one again. He scratched his head as we boarded the boat and told me that it was the strangest thing and that this never happens. As we were flying out of the harbour, I stood next to him at the wheel and asked him if he remembered getting an email from a girl who wanted to have a private tour. He looked me like I was a ghost and I couldn’t help but having a shit eating grin on my face. I smiled wide and told him that he should have named his price. The whole tour we spent together, he was bewildered by the whole thing and now matter how much I told him weird stuff like that happens to me all the time, it didn’t seem to matter. I’m pretty sure he thought I was some kind of witch.

My ghost town pics are from all over Canada from abandoned fishing villages in NFLD, to Dawson City in northern Yukon with some BC, Alberta and Saskatchewan thrown in there.

Stubs.

If I had to name the one thing I was passionate about more than anything, it would be diving. There is something about the size and mystery of the ocean I have always been drawn to. It’s like a whole other world filled with things most people can’t even imagine and the ever-present danger make it a sport not for the weak of heart.

I like warm water diving but I’m oddly drawn to the colder dives. I’ve dove the Atlantic in April, northern Ontario in October and the rocky mountains in late September and none of those were warm. The coldest would have to be the SS Atlantic, which I dove with my father just a few weeks before I left NS (also, just several days before the time I did a 54km hike in NS with Poncho and we had to get helicoptered out but that is a different story altogether), to move to AB. The wreck had the title of the biggest loss of life in one ship wreck, before the Titanic. It was also a White Star Line ship! There isn’t much left of that wreck now, just mostly the steel, the boiler and hull and a few other sections and a big area where there is scattered china (the ships then used to carry cargo to make extra money), so the china didn’t have the White Star Line crest. It was funny, I didn’t feel cold at all, and when I got cold, I got messed up cold fast. It was ok because it was the end of the dive and it was time to go up but if I would have had to have done a long decompression… I can’t see that being cool. Regardless, it was badass.

In March 2011, I went to Mexico/Belize with a fellow adventure seeker (The Spocker). We did 9 dives on that adventure, the first two were cave dives in Mexico which were intense. 40 minutes of being in a tunnel under the ocean will get just about anyones heart rate up. In Belize we dove atolls, walls and of course… the blue hole. World famous, this is a must when diving in Belize. 145ft you bottom out at (you, not the hole) where you hang out and see some stagnates/stalagmites from when the hole used to be a cave, before the ice age. From there, you wind your way up the sheer wall, passing a school of sharks, then a bigger school of barracuda before doing your decompressing over a reef. This was the first time diving I had ever experienced narcosis (being narced). Easiest way to explain that is being high from breathing the nitrogen rich air. I had done some pretty deep dives and never experienced the symptoms and I was wondering when it was finally going to happen. When it did, I just cracked myself up a few times but I definitely didn’t hear any talking fish.

Here are some of the cool things I have seen while diving: 3 or 4 different types of sharks, seahorses, sting rays, lots of eels, ship wrecks, airplane wrecks, octopus, squid, fish that can kill, three-foot long turtles, buried town and its old dam, huge atlantic lobster, fossils in flooded caves, sunken drug running ships and more fish then there are stars in the sky, easily.

The bad thing about diving for a person like me, is that my imagination is always running wild. I actually have the thoughts about the shark coming out of the abyss straight for me. In and around wrecks can be creepy too, knowing you are close to a piece of history makes my mind go in a million directions. Having read lots of books about good divers who have lost their lives, you can’t help but think of them sometimes and it keeps a healthy little bit of fear near the front of your brain.

I mostly wrote this blog as an excuse to post a bunch of my diving pics for most of my first while diving I never had a camera but here are some pics from some of my latest trips.

Stubs.

Years ago, it happened. It was a day like any other day, I remember it clearly. Hanging out with friends, having some laughs probably causing youth type trouble of some kind when I did something most people don’t think twice about, I gave a thumbs up. That is the day my life changed in a profound way and I went from the person I had been my whole life, to Stubs.

See, I have small hands and especially freakishly short thumbs. My feet also follow the same trend (which was always awesome because as it turns out, junior shoes are way cheaper than adult shoes). It’s one of those things in life that you never think about yourself, you’re never self conscious about until someone else points it out and if you’re young and someone is pointing it out, it usually involves pointing, laughing and of course, the new nickname.

All of the nicknames that have come and gone, of course, this is the one that has stuck. Now, it’s become such a part of who I am that when I go home, to my old, life long friends they will grab my arm and take great pride in showing someone new my freakish thumbs exclaiming, “you have to see her thumb” to which the reaction is always the same, a loud, “no way!” followed by them grabbing my hand and comparing mine to theirs in an attempt to assure themselves that they do not have this same short coming.

As any person like me would do in this situation I have learned to use this “situation” to my advantage. I will use my stubs to make others feel better when they’re sad. If I feel like someone needs a pick-me-up, I’ll give them the thumbs up and say, “well at least you’re thumbs aren’t this short.” Usually, their eyes will widen, they’ll grab my arm and of course, compare hand size. It’s a little thing I like to do, to give back. If I can use these thumbs for anything, it should be to help people, cause they sure don’t help me with much. You know, cause they’re short.

Stubs.

I am now thirty years of age. After sixteen days of celebrating, I have finally had my birthday and the extravaganza has come to a close. Two countries, two provinces and I don’t know how many km’s of driving and now, I sit in one of my favourite spots in the world, totally alone and thankful my vocal cords are getting a rest. In front of me, the Pacific Ocean and huge mountains in the distance with my trusty dog Caper sleeping on the bed where she’s not supposed to be while I drink coffee and Bailey’s listen to the tide come in. Paradise.

The continuation of my 30^th celebration involved a night out in Calgary where we hit up a beer market  (Craft) and had a great evening filled with some of my favourite people, I don’t think I stopped smiling all night. Poncho and I had a great shoeless walk back to the hotel, just like old times.

December 27^th we hit the road with the Pacific Ocean as our destination. Finally after all these years, Poncho and Stubs can say they went coast to coast. Once in the mountains, the weather was not cooperating and we hit just about any kind of weather you can imagine. By the evening, we had only gotten as far as Revelstoke and it was time to call it a night. Throughout the day we had seen one bad vehicle accident involving a roll over and also a huge train crash where about twenty cars were just folded up like an accordion, it was wild.

Next, we arrived in Victoria where one of my oldest friends (Mermaid) had just moved to and the three of us had a great dinner in Vic and got in some quality girl shopping time. After that it was time to head out of town. Last year, while cruising the coast on my BC birthday trip, I found this cottage which I am currently sitting in. After a long day of hiking in the rain, not liking and then leaving the original place I had booked and feeling like my trip luck was running out, I found a place called Point No Point Resort outside of Sooke, BC. I stayed for two nights last year and it changed me a little bit, one of those places. When I thought about where I wanted to wake up on my 30^th and really considered places all over the world, the sudden thought of being back in that cottage again made my soul happy, so… that’s why I’m here. There is a feeling in this place; all of the elements of the earth are at your finger tips as well as some of the best hiking, fastest changing weather and nicest people. Why even leave Canada when we have so many amazing corners to be explored right here?

Originally, I thought this part of the trip would be solo as well. Having your birthday on New Year’s Eve is always tricky because most people already have plans or places to be. I have long since resolved myself to the fact that If I want to have fun on my birthday, I’m going to have to count on myself alone to make that happen. Over the last few weeks, Poncho decided to come on my adventure and then I found out my other good friend Mermaid was in for the trip too. The whole dimension of the trip changed from waking up in a place that would be stunning to set a peaceful tone to 2012, to having two of my best friends in the world in paradise with a hot tub overlooking the ocean causing trouble together for a few days. My birthday was filled with laughs, huge waves and crashing surf, some of the best friends a girl could ask for, way too much food, the perfect amount of booze and a dog who couldn’t be cuter if she tried. I will say again: I am, without a doubt, the luckiest girl in the world.

On January 1, 2012, I took both of my lovely ladies to their airplanes and apartments and came back to the cottage to pack, reflect and enjoy the view for a few more hours. This is one of those places that you’re never sad to leave because you always know that at some point, you’ll be there again.

Stubs.