Semper Ubi, Sub Ubi

Short Version:
Boats are paddled, a hill is climbed, snoring is heard

Long Version:
After a day or two of walking and running in the forests of North Vancouver, we drove with Pa and Ruth (Hi Pa and Ruth!) to Deep Cove, to the canoe and kayak rental place. We managed to arrive at what was probably their busiest time of day, on possibly their busiest day of the year, so they pointed us at boats and other gear and left us to get on with it. And get on with it we did, paddling around the Indian Arm of the Burrard Inlet for several hours, checking out fancypants houses, a variety of sea-birds, and several groups of seals*, most of whom were sleeping in the sun on privately-owned jetties or on the floating boom around the Deep Cove wharves. Many of them appeared to be moulting, and looked like they were upholstered with Axminster carpets. The big ones were Nene-sized, and the smaller ones were around the size of the tiny cat back on Waiheke (Hi McGee!), as well as exhibiting the same sort of behaviour (ie sleeping in the sun).

Eventually we turned back in to Deep Cove, ditched the boats, and Nene and I cooled down by jumping off the wharf into the sea. A quick drive past where I'd lived as an infant (the house is no longer there - it's been replaced by several far-more-enormous ones, on far-smaller sections) and then home for tea, during which we had a big, hairy visitor. Actually, we had several, but one was a bear, seeking delicious foods in the garbage cans. All the Canadians were blase about its presence - resigned to the post-ursine cleanup to come - but Janine and I were hanging over the fence, enthralled by its enormity and nearness. When we were farewelling guests we made sure we were suitably armed (with a short-handled squeegee) in case it returned.

Next day we hit the road again, back to Squamish with Pa and the dogs, to hike the Stawamus Chief. Last time I was here, 20+ years ago, Pa and his father and I did the hike, and my memory had me prepped for a bloody good walk. Turned out to be substantially more hardcore than I'd remembered, with a lot of steep stuff interspersed with some even steeper bits en route to Third Peak. The dogs managed to climb some rock scrambles I thought we'd be carrying them up, and were thwarted only once, by a steel ladder bolted to a rock face, on our way down from the Second Peak. Even the lure of a naughty squirrel near the base wasn't enough to get the pooches down that one! They weren't shy of cliff faces though - more than once I thought one or the other was going over the edge as they dashed about, heedless of the 200m+ sheer drop. Glad we had no kids with us**. We humans lay on our bellies and inched forward to get a view over the edge and down a long, long way. There were fantastic views of mountains and forests in all directions, with the views from Second Peak even better than those from Third. We skipped summitting First Peak (because we're all grumpy old hermits, and there were people there) and made our way back down to the campground and parking area at the foot of the mountain, where we saw a man FAIL to slide down a rock-face on his feet, ending up with a mouthful of dirt instead. The dogs were pretty knackered after the four-hour expedition, and they were snoozing pretty quick once back in the car. Seemed to me they had the right idea, so I did likewise, and snored all the way back to Vancouver.







* = A group of seals = variously a harem, pod, or herd, depending on which piece of the internets you choose to believe. Likewise, a group of otters = a raft, family, bevy or romp. A group of baboons, fairly unequivocally, is a flange.

** = I now understand a little more why Ma didn't particularly enjoy that time on the not-very-wide ridge above the Devil's Staircase on Tuhua. Sorry Ma!