ooh la la

another nights “sleep” in an airport (why as backpackers do we inflict this on ourselves…) and we find ourself in the french speaking province of quebec… in the epicentre of canadian history itself and marvelling at the fortified walls of old quebec city…

after a walk around the old town, navigating the stairs, stumbling over the cobblestone streets and watching the world go by as fast as the french out of their mouths it is hard to imagine one is still in canada. a world away from the grandeaur of the rockies…yet another world away still from the rural simpleness of the north and yet miles away from the rugged isolation of newfoundland and its battered coastal shores.

so what better way to throw ourselves into the mercy of this new world than with a very quebec tradition…a visit to a “sugar shack”…

now be aware….that a sugar shack for a real quebecian is usually not a major commercial enterprise seating 500 plus people…and not most commonly done in the spectacular sunlight of a bright june day…

but a family run affair in the twilight months of winter…as the snow still carpets the ground, but the warming air means it is time for the maple water to be tapped from the local grove…

but despite all that… my quebecian friend still managed to find for us the next best deal…

and thus, still in zombie mode (after the illustrious airport sleep the evening previous) we were whisked outside the walled city, through the “real” city and into the countryside into a world of towering green maple trees (i can only imagine how stunning this place must look in autumn…a new listing for the laurie to-do list)

and ta da…there we are…

shown in to a table behind the two rowdy school grouops, to enjoy some fine live “diddly dee” music and sample some genuine quebecoise fare…

and sample we did…

as we ate our way past the point of no return… devouring any untied morsels in true starved backpacker fashion..

loving the beans in maple sauce, homemade pie and relish, dumplings and beet…

devouring the maple beer (strangely too sweet even for me!!)

and feasting till our eyes did buldge on food like we have not seen it in months…

of course, all this before we even realised the best was yet to come…

this was of course a farm who’s source of industry is the world famed syrup..

and far from the tourist fodder sugar water in good old banff… we soon discovered the real syrup and the reason for the existance of said sugar shack outside the realms of natures harvest…

when dessert rolled round our already full bellies were forcibly expanded by the sheer sight, flavour and texture of the maple syrup…as it trickled like liquid honey. golden and unflawed in colour over fresh hot crepes…there was no turning back…their was only eating…and licking the plates…

and as if our pants werent already cutting off the circulation..

as if we werent already wobbling due to overindulgence..

with the beauty of modern technology we got to try the true winter treat of quebec by making maple snow taffy…

as we stood in the crisp eve air listening to the wind whistle through the maple grove and the groan of over stuffed bellies..

we poured the sticky goodness into a trough of read

old quebec city

y made”snow” and wrestled with our sticks as we wound the sticky goodness into our very own maple lollipop…

and despite the cooled texture and consistency reminding me of my beauticians wax pot the flavour was surreal..

as it melted magically down your throat..

the perfect blend of sweetness in natures own creation…

and so last night, as i collapsed into bed, lamenting the growing rumbles from my overstuffed belly..

i can at last fully admit…

perhaps these canadians really are onto something with this whole maple syrup thing….

just a bummer i found it too late!

may your syrup be sweet wherever this finds you.

always,

l

mike and nicole get started on round one of our evening meal

mmmm.... maple taffy......

nearly as cool as moose

so as it turns out….

newfoundland has even more to offer than moose (which for me was quite enough to start with)…

but in addition to the stunning scenery… a continuation of my beloved irish west coast with its rugged atlantic battered sea cliffs, tumbling green fields, explosion of wildflwers fighting together to withstand the constant beezes and creating an endless dancing carpet of green splashed with colour…

newfoundland also offers icebergs.

a chunk of ice.

yes a chunk of ice that all at once ignites the imagination and takes one breath at the sheer briliance and purity of their colour.

a white so glaring, so bright that it seems almost angelic… floating effortlessly in a turbulent sea of dark inky swells…

all perched next to wee fishing villages of white washed walls, flaking boats and a feeling of serentity.

what more could this great country possibly offer??

the world truly is a remarkable place.

always.

l

chapter 11… the road to newfie

On the road again…

And as per all of life’s adventures not necessarily the smooth, graceful start I may have envisaged!! But then again, what fun would there be possible if it ever were??

So after a week of build up climaxing in a few teary goodbye sessions, we trundled home about 4 am the night before, admitably a little the worse for wear… but with all good intent of an “early start” the next morning to cram in the last minute preparation, packing and cleaning all with enough time to meet the plane hassle free, relaxed and with breath to spare.

Mission one…waking up..

Surprisingly accomplished…and even Michael, after a small amount of nagging (read incessant poking in ribs and demanding) also managed to rise before evening!!!

Mission two… packing…

And here is where it all goes wrong….

Oh my god…

How in such a short space of time does one manage to acquire so much…crap??? despite a week’s careful planning and consideration…the insurmountable task of packing up my life once again into boxes continues to be an overwhelming task… so thus…head slightly fuzzy I sat dishevelled amidst piles of keep, throw and take…wrestling with the sheer logistics of how to fit it all in… And amidst the brewing panic of OH MY GOD I have way toooo much junk and how am I ever going to pack this? Post that? And Carry this bag comes…

Mission three…

The hardest and most stressful of all missions known to man….

Getting Michael ready…

As with all things relying on the Michael space time continuum, logic merely went out the window…and as the brewing whirling whirlpool of a Laurie panic attack started to take hold at roughly 2 pm the sheer fact that he had not even started packing simply sent the afternoon into one tumultuous turbine induced spin!!!!

In an epic panic driven hissy fit as my clothes were thrown in rage from one box to another at the realisation I could not pack nor post without Michael picking up my new laptop case (ordered online under his name as he was convinced me using the hot pink one readily available in store was perhaps too big a recipe for provoking trouble in central America) it became more and more evidently aware that I would not make myself named 3 pm deadline of leaving the house for postage…

And thus at 4..when the stress train had more than left the building…and the incredible hulk within had burst all veins in my pulsating stressed neck… I opted to leave him to his procrastinatory ways and trundle to the post office… alone…. frazzled as was and hastily packed… the carefully planned shower so as I would be daisy fresh for the impending flight no longer  holding up its end of the bargain… I single handedly hoisted my 2 ridiculously oversized, over stuffed boxes into my arms and wobbled precariously out the door…

Needless to say under the buckling strain of some awkwardly packed 25 odd kilos the 1 km direct trek to the post office did take me a staggering 35 mins (including frequent involuntary rest stops, dropped box stops and minor meltdown panic sessions) and as I stumbled inside and forked out the usual exorbitant postage fees that are associated with shipping your life from one side of the world to another… I thought I could actually hear the intent rhythmic pounding of my now doubly over strained heart!  Thank god I made it was all I could sigh…. and as I physically struggled to even raise a pen to make my customs declarations I gained first glance of my now shredded arms…

Apparently… power walking with 2 large cardboard boxes with a combined weight somewhere near a third of your own body weight has the added side  effect of arm lacerations… which of course are a great feature to have whilst boarding planes… (Train tracks… don’t look so good at immigration for some reason?? Go figure!)

All the while… I am still containing my complete horror at my seemingly inability to pack light and the fact that as is oft the case my backpack is bulging beyond all repair…and most importantly….where was Michael!!!????

Stress frazzle, curse and swear later… I trotted home faced with the task of either calming a stressed Michael OR single handedly having to clean the entire flat in a new record time of 1 hr 12 mins…

Upon arrival in the front door I was met with neither frazzled Michael nor organised flat that merely required a clean…but HURRICANE MIKE… winds must have swept thru at least 600 km an hour as he somehow managed to upend EVERY drawer into EVERY available living space and successfully throw his own 25 kilos worth of crap into his own boxes and have the audacity to actually try running to the post office, unsealed boxes flapping in the breeze (and all while still wearing his jammies mind you)  all within the space of one rather dramatic hour!

And as it turns out…is oft the case with him…the gods smiled and some poor sucker at the post office actually opened the locked doors and let him in late…

He too of course is now also sporting fashionable arm lacerations from the ordeal…

None the less…that leaves us back home…where in the remaining hour I worked like a fiend to clean the house fit for our imminent  departure..

While pokey slowly moseyed through a years supply of crap strewn in every direction and eventually commenced his final pack…which then proceeded to take THREE HOURS!!!!!!!!

So as I sat…. steam rising from my ears misting the now clean windows, mirrors and doors thanking god for the most patient friends in the world who miraculously had offered us a trip to the airport (in return for a final farewell dinner…which regrettably never happened but instead became take away in the car on the run) it occurs to me…holy crap I am leaving Banff.

This is really it. And so in keeping with my not so closet bouts of neurosis I wrestle between the urge to slay Michael for his unbelievably painful space time stress inducing deficit or hug him crying uncontrollably for the farewell to home, life and friends as we have ever known it… or simply just laugh and tremble with the excitement for the undreamed of adventures yet to come…

Opting in my typical schizophrenic nature for a sturdy combination of all three..Thus it was at roughly 9 pm last night we finally locked the door on our house for good, loaded up the car and hit the road for the next chapter in adventure…

We survived the perils of an overnight red eye flight,

“Slept” on the chocolate stained carpet of the Toronto domestic terminal (at least I hope that stuff was chocolate??) laughed manically (possibly deranged) at the humour of the very camp French air hosty who advised us that if cabin pressure should drop an airbag would drop down from the panel “above your natural hair colour” and if you have a purse “make sure it matches your shoes and is stowed beneath the seat in front” and of course to put your chair into the most uncomfortable position for takeoff and landing…

But despite the bumpy start. Despite the frazzled melt down…we made it…and thus this afternoon…countless hours since our last real sleep we arrived safe and sound in Newfoundland…and already I love it….

Rolling green countryside…the long missed smell of salty sea air, a thick mysterious fog that rolls in to carpet an otherwise endless wilderness…and after a mere 60 km drive to our first stop for this leg of the tour…the moose count already stands at 3!

Yup, life is good…and with only more and more adventure to come it can only possibly get better.

Happy travels wherever you are.

Always.

L

24 hours later...the wounds still sting

moose with a view

snow in may

months have come and washed away like the ebb and flow of a neap tide.

and here i sit on the sunny side of the canadian winter…about to grasp the bull by both horns and jump back into the swirling cyclone of life on the road…

but before i pass off into yet another of my own self made sunsets… the canadian spring which has thawed the rivers, revived the trees and generally put that spark back into the life of a town waking up from its winter slumber has delivered with it one more crazy weather cycle.

snow in may…

it is neither snow, nor rain, nor sleet nor hail but this crazy flurried blur of all…

as it cascades from the clouds alternating from large white cotton balls dancing like fairy ballerinas in the soft spring breeze to the sudden harshness of ice pellets hurtling towards earth as if thrown from the slingshots of the angry gods above..

or the smallest most delicate microscopic flakes that look like crystals from some far away chandeleir as they fall slowly from a shimmering sky…

and as you stand transfixed in wonderment at this shower of a garden of snow flowers in all their shapes sizes and forms and wonder exactly what one is meant to wear… you realise that despite their entry they all meet the same untimely fate on impact with the ground…

neither the ferocity of the hail nor the true magnitude of the flakes can combat the warming from below… and as the ground glistens back with morning dew it also devours this new snow and lets it seap into its ready dampness…

a new debate

courtesy of mans unethical love affair with pigs… my impending travel plans have thus been obliterated…

with a tour of central america cancelled..

but my flights into and out of mexico unchanged… (WHALE SHARKS!!!!!! why do they taunt me so?? is it simply that i am not meant to swim with these almighty beasts of the deep blue world)

and thus i face the one thing i fear more than most…

a decision…

so here’s the low down…

funds are tight.

and even more so for my financially strapped travelling companion…

we are eligible to get back our money for the canceled central american tour (or transfer it direct to another tour)…but unless continental airlines (henceforth known as arseholes inc.) decide to extend their recognised dates or cancel our flight (insead of just continually bumping us onto new ones) we are stuck paying either cancellation or re-route fees to avoid mexico…despite a world wide pandemic and travel advice from almost every known country of the western world strongly suggesting NOT to go there….

(oh and dont even start me on travel insurance…which covers for cancellation for circumstances beyond your control…except pandemics!!!)

so here are the options…

A) pay the difference in tours and on flights and change fees for flights and go to central america anyways… just avoiding mexico itself but still right next to the epicentre of pig bug.

pay an even bigger difference in price of both fares and tours… and re route fees and do a shorter tour in peru… (yay machu piccu!!!) BUT therefore also cutting into a possible later jaunt to south america (any takers for an epic south american adventure…say this november??)

or can exotic travel altogether and stick to the relative “safety” of canada and america and partake in some touristy cliche such as route 66 (this however will incur losing flight money)

at this stage the next chapter is vastly unknown… but hey… an online poll is always the best way to shirk the responsibility of actually making this decision for myself right???

happy travels world… and may your sneezes not be those of pigs…

wherever in the world this finds you…

hugs

laurie’s torture camp….

as any poor victim who has been (un)lucky enough to visit me on an overseas voyage will know that playing host and travel agent is something i simply love to do…

but what most people fail to realise is that it is there own undoing if they happen to mention that they are a) on a budget or b) enjoy “walking”…

for…as a self confessed drama queen and consequent mistress of all things exaggerated… i do budget better than any true scotsman and a walk is not simply a meander round the block…. but a chance to fully cover every nook and cranny of any landscape you propel me into…and i mean EVERY nook and cranny…

and thus it was as my friend arrived amidst tales of strict budgetry requirements with the dream of seeing all that my beautiful temporary home town of banff has to offer that laurie’s bootcamp was born…

not to forget that in parallel to my time here slowly sifting away i am loving this last chance to get outside as spring truly does take hold and allow for outdoor excursions that no longer require 72 thermal layers and a snowsuit….

eyeing up my new roomate and equating her still fit and firm body as fit enough to complete the mission i sketched out a fortnight of a few “short walks” and “casual hill climbs”… perhaps some skiing thrown in for entertainment?? or a wee small bike ride if time and weather permits???

more poor friend, to her own peril, agreed…. and has been reintroduced to every forgotten bone and muscle in her body ever since…. and i have become keeper of the panadol and masseuse of the deep heat!

day one simply saw a wee little wander up a “mound” overlooking town… some stunning views across the valley highlighting all of banff and its possibilities before us… duly inspiring us to then trek down the mountain and up to the fairmont hotel… the castle in the clouds of a misty day in banff…

(this of course was later topped by a subsequent visit to the hotel…dressed as roughians… we did of course decide to sneak into the lift and explore the “gold class” level of luxury and basically wander around much to the fear and horror of the more suitably attired real hotel guests…)

and if you ask my friend… who spent that evening massaging sore legs… this was indeed merely a warm up…

oh yes…this fortnight off work, has not in fact been a lounge around break of rest and relaxation but a chance to cram the last 8 months worth of exploring into an action packed fortnight of extreme sports that i am sure even rambo or arnie may have winced at…

we tackled the mountains on skis and on foot….

both eating snow as we encountered the icy peril of spring downhill skiing and eating snow as we nearly got blown off a sheer cliff face covered in a few feet of untouched powdery goodness…

we laughed at the “usual” tourists who referred to their mere half hour canter down a raised board walk as a “hike” and told them to attempt a winter mountain hike from base to summit (minus any avalanche gear..oops.. or bear spray… oops or ice cleats.. oops..)

we laughed as my surpreme guiding skills saw me not once, but several times fall over on hidden ice patches, get mildly lost, uncover tracks of dangerous beasts from whom one should run and most notably slide the entire length of a bridge that was covered in ice…all without falling into the frozen ravine below!!!!

we enjoyed debating whether it is in fact illegal to walk the train lines (stand by me style) and concluding that as we were in the middle of nowhere about 16 km from home and these said lines…despite being surrounded by a known bear habitat and a marsh on both sides… did in fact provide a handy directional marker..

we also enjoyed jumping off the tracks..into the marsh… not once but twice as two of the worlds longest freight trains decided to whizz by…

it was also at this point that i enjoyed the sufferings of irritable bowel syndrome and again, became one with nature and fed the bears in a broad open (savannah!!!) field…

we further enjoyed the next day hearing the bear sighting radioed in to our ski bus driver and noting that said 250 kg GRIZZLY bear was in fact a mere kilometre away from where all this took place (well…bears ARE hungry after hibernation!)

we enjoyed accidentally stumbling into the middle of an elk herd…and later on our safari tour hearing that elk with ear tags are those with previous violent human encounters… (did i mention at least 7 of these elk were tagged??)

we enjoyed taking part in a tour that drove a bus down a 45 degree gradiant onto a glacier…which is in fact starting to melt…

but most of all…we just enjoyed banff!

yup…despite the sore muscles, aching back…tired bones… i reckon the marathon was worth it…

for my friend who got to see more than the average aussie backpacker here gets to see in a year and for me…who is tying up my time here and looking for those lasting memory images to hold onto….

and so my friends…as my own time here starts to draw nearer to a close.. i urge you all.. to get outside.. find the beauty in your own neighbourhood… and seriously… take a walk… okay…maybe you dont quite have to go on closed tracks, frozen canyons or hike snow covered mountains… but really… at the end of the day.. the pain is worth it!there truly is a beautiful world out there…and sometimes from the warmth and comfort of inside we simply forget to see it…

and until you foolishly fall into the trap of agreeing to a “short” laurie walk wherever i meet you next….

(and those of you have walked with me know just what i am talking about…) rest up my dear friends… you may need it!

hugs.

here...this canyon looks safe to hike through....

i know a castle on a cloud

playground ponderings…

i used to love swing sets…

no, scratch that, i still do love swing sets…but somewhere in the not too hazy past they stopped loving me.

when did the gentle motion of back and forth stop being relaxing or exhilarating (depending on your exertion) and start becoming the inducer of vertigo and motion sickness??

after a lovely walk through the spring sunshine today i spied some swings and decided the best way to wile away the hours… (and dry out my soggy boots which appear to have absorbed half of the towns slushy melty snow pile) was a nice relaxing swing. i remember years of old standing on swing sets and performing dare devil defeats to create the greatest momentum…which was always of course capped off by a spectacular and often crowd pleasing airborne dismount… but gone are the days… now it seems even the slightest notion of inertia and my insides squirm…no longer is it a joy to feel the air whizz past my ears, but with each whoosh i wonder if i may actually throw up the entire contents of my stomache!?

is it truly possible that at some age we actually do become too old for swings?? is that why you never see hordes of little old ladies hitch up their floral skirts and mount the trusty plastic of the local park swing set?

or is it a sensation that in childhood we become immune too and as stints between swings lengthen our immunity simply wanes but through dedicated effort may be retrieved?

or if this is not some biological curse that ensures play equipment remains solely for the use of the younger generation then what on earth am i going to do about this god awful ailment of motion sickness?? as more travel looms just around the corner..one starts to wonder if now is the time to invest in travel sickness tablets??

but until then… i think i may just have to stick to the trusty slippery slide.

always yours, one slightly dizzy laurie.

where did winter go??

it seems to have happened almost unnoticed, but suddenly, as i sit by the bank of the river today basking in the glow of the afternoon sunlight…it occurs to me winter appears to have slunk off into a sunset of its own…to become just another memory to be chronicled in my mind….

i stare out across what was until just a week ago a smooth ribbon of flawless white ice…and watch as new torrents break free… fresh water cascades and trickles…forging new paths as if some ice breaker has been working mercilessly through the night..a metre at a time… the crackling ice edges like some mini arctic wilderness hanging onto the banks with all their remaining strength

and there on one of the few remaining icy islands floating amidst the newly formed torrents sit the canadian geese. huddled in pairs. returned from some epic adventure…resting… have they been gone that long already?

meanwhile the sun lingers just above the mountain tops… and the breeze that tickles at my skin no longer burns with the ferocity of an arctic gale but refreshes and tingles as it dances.

the sun no longer skips low across the sky hugging the horizon as it goes…but boldy ventures higher…seeking new outlooks and illuminating shadows long since forgotten in the cold grasp of winter…

the snow that falls in the morning, dances like fairies and dissolves as quick as it arrives when it hits the harsh reality of ground. by afternoon all that remains is the few die hard patches of icy snow that no longer glisten and sparkle in that wonderland white, but crystlise and appear glued together by the dirt and dust that have long since accumulated.

the deer are returning to town… by 2′s and 4′s i spot them grazing beside abandoned parks and playing fields… their babies no longer little, but nearly full grown and ready to depart for a life of their own.

the squirrels are back..bounding, dancing and dashing like lightening between the trees… forraging for the food that has newly reappeared on the now bare ground.

where did winter go?? have i hibernated while the time has passed me by or have the months worked together like an army to fly so fast that the invading forces of winter are so quickly and quietly driven out, almost unnoticed.

one day i awoke to brave the perils of winter and test my resolve against the icy grasp of minus 42. today i wonder where that kingdom of freeze has melted to.

spring is on its way. like a stealth invader it has nearly caught me unawares…but i see it coming now.. i see the new buds forming on the bare trees, the tell tale signs of a new season, new life that is about to start.

and with it i too start to look at new life, new ideas…and ponder where next in this adventure of life?

my time here in banff has flown by like a blink and as i on the one hand still see the months that lay before me, i realise too just how quickly they will vanish into tomorrows and yesterdays and new decisions must eventually be faced.

i guess time doesnt stand still wherever you lie. and once again it appears to have found me and caught me unawares.

yet i embrace it and grow with it and feel the warming buzz of anticipation inside as i know the next chapter is only ever just around the corner….

may time be treating you with the grace of its wisdom wherver in the world this finds you.

hugs

l

is that a silver lining i see???

hey crew…as is oft the case in the backpacker world…funds are tight and from time to time certain luxuries get missed out on..

also as is oft the case in my world, being master of the tight arse scotish ways, my travel companions funds are often even tighter and due to shared experience…certain luxuries that possibly could have been stretched to are also neglected…

and thus it is over the years i have come close yet not ticked off a few little gems…

a visit to santa’s village while in finland, getting a SCUBA cert in Thailand or Queensland, getting a handcrafted indian bedding set, swimming with sharks in New zealand, staying in the flashy room in Vegas, flying over the Grand canyon in America, trekking thru the Bungle Bungles of Australia, well…you get the gist…

but despite this constant ebb and flow of the backpacker budget and the ability to take the good with the bad and thank the world for all it has unveiled to me these last 10-ish years… not one single item on the laurie list has bugged me so much as perhaps swimming with whale sharks…

and why???

because, not only once have i been fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time… but TWICE have i had to watch the world jump in to the water and swim with these gentle giants while i sat on the shoreline counting my pennies.

both zanzibar and ningaloo reef left their scars… and while i blame not either my travel companion of the day nor my own financially immature lifestyle i can not deny there has always been a grudge…

and yet here i am…

living the mundane life and swallowing boredom in the effort to appease my fellow traveller again, groaning about what other little gems i let slip by each day when a twist of fate has handed me hope…

as my time here in Banff starts to look like numbered days and the pencil plans are set for the next leg of the laurie world domination tour… i have once more sold out my extensive travel plans to match a budgetry need… no longer south america, but central, no longer Nicaragua, Honduras and Costa Rica but Mexico, Belize & Guatemala, no longer 2 months, but 3 weeks….

and as i groan at watching another set of dreams sail into an untouched sunset i discover…

whale sharks also exist in the waters off Mexico from July – September… and while funds are tight and days are numbered… i do look set to be in cancun in late June..

maybe, just maybe… after all these years the gods are granting me that one more chance.

i’ve botched it twice… but maybe it truly is third time lucky???

so as i prepare to batten down the hatches for the last few months stint of save save save… i have a goal…

a shining light..

a silver lining on some otherwise stormy clouds…

yep…the world sure does work in mysterious ways…and maybe, just maybe everything really does happen for a reason.

may your glasses be rose coloured wherever this finds you.

always.

loz… whale shark hunter….

i take it all back…

i, like many others of us…have often laughed at the many misfortuned athletic events classed as “sport” in various international competitions…

the complete ridiculousness of synchronised swimming….women with speedos glued onto their butts and nose pegs…frollicking upside down in a tandom display of insanity…

the utter randomness of pole vault…i mean really…where and how did it start?? oh… i think i might just get this pole and hurl myself 6 metres into the air over another pole… or better still…where are the local pole vaulting clubs as part of saturday sport?? (i personally have always wanted to try it..)

rhythmic gymnastics… ooooh look at me look at me.. i have a ribbon..and i have a ball.. i can dance like a seal… i mean what tripped out stone head first thought to do that crazy stuff… all while smiling like some crazed axe murderer…

and until recently… curling..

i mean..lawn bowls on ice… why didnt we just go wheel out great aunty ethel from the local bowling club, fill up her glass of sherry and charge her 1970′s prices… throw her into a fluffy jacket and watch the scintilating action unfold as she hurls some chunk of rock down an ice rink while some random janitors sweep up after the mess she made???

well…

on friday i actually tried it.

oh my god.

i take it all back….

firstly there is the issue of even getting onto the ice… “go get a “slider” for your shoe”…and a “gripper” (if you want one…) ok…so we are ON ICE why the hell do i need something to make me slidey ( i should have heeded the trouble this opening statement indicated…)?? (whooooooosh) (laurie face plants on first contact with ice….on her gripper foot)

next (once you are on the ice) waddle over here and crouch down unceremoniously showing the world your plumbers bum and hold a heavy rock and a broom… ok…not so hard… we’ve all done that before right??

then …slide…. push off and slide…but dont let your fingers, knees or butt touch the ground..yes thats right, somehow levitate the whole back part of your body…. slide in the slider foot (in a straight line) and carefully, applying the correct amount of force push the rock, whilst still balancing on the broom for stability..

oh…and dont forget to turn the handle on the rock, clockwise…you want it to spin 5 and a half times before it reaches the other end…

no dont turn it that much!@!! aaaah!  it’s veering off course…into the next persons lane.. smash.. oops.

(followed by a wobble, a face plant and a stomache glide in an unprecedented comic attempt to stand back up…)

next, we have the sweeping…

i mean whats all that about?? yeah yeah, i get it..make the ice warm so it glides further…ya-da ya-da ya-da… cant be too hard right…

but as all my fellow canadians stepped out gracefully with their slider foot, propelling them forwards down the lane, in a smooth motion that seemed to resemble something from swan lake meets mary poppins the stage show…yours truly stepped out onto my slider foot… hit the ground with a resounding thud, climbed back up in a hideous effort resembling some creature from the great swamp and took my best efforts to glide gracefully forwards…

so it turns out… unbeknownst to me, i am apparently pidgeon toed…and while in all earnestness i was trying to push forward…the slider foot had a mind of its own and infalliably went sideways, causing a wobble, a circle and a variety of movements one may expect from an innebriated penguin…

all the while clutching my broom for security (god i loved that broom)

and then…when i finally managed to make it down the lane… i stood, waiting for the magic stone…which came loftily by and as i swept, fell and swept some more managed to successfully stop 3 stones, veer two into anothers game and lose several others (well…they go fast!!!!)

so while i may snicker at the utter ridiculousness of the sport, laugh at the manic sweeping of the ice and even wonder why great aunty ethel doesnt just practice her lawn bowls in the rsl freezer room… i must confess..there is actually a skill to the sport…one apparently i dont possess….

may your stone glide successfully down your own lane…guided by the good brooms in life.

always.

l