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| Truthfully *THIS* is prime real estate! |
The highlight of thisweek was jumping in a freezing cold, snow-melt fueled creek. Actually, you can't 'jump' in. You must 'wade', which doesn't sound nearly as cool. Although truthfully it's so much more challenging than saying 'let's do this' & plunging. When you wade in, you have to get your feet all muddy whilst navigating over sharp rocks & branches. You have to will yourself forwards and let the snow-melt, rush past & climb gradually up your legs one inch at a time. Until it reaches your thighs and you think...nah, it's TOO COLD & run out of the water. Knowing that you're just going to have to do it all over, because once you've got *that* wet, you're gonna do it.
Antoine went in first & he ran out first (Mediterranean blood). i've had plenty of experience bathing in freezing cold glacial melt streams in the Himalaya - but in those moments, i remind myself how sacred & healing the waters are. This time, i couldn't convince myself and i ran out straight after him.
Of course, once he'd actually dunked his head under, run out convulsing & claimed first dibs on the only towel we'd brought (damn...) - well, i knew it was my turn.
i stood up to my hips in the deepest part of Beaver Creek. (i bestowed the name Beaver Creek 18 months before based on one brief sighting. Because, as a
European - who has neither 'beavers' nor 'creeks' - it always felt like
an authentic Canadian name.
**Footnote - my brother read this post & corrected me that we *DO* in fact have 'loads of beavers' in scotland. i did not know that. we probably have creeks too ;)
The late afternoon sun on my face, i pleaded with my knees to bend, so i could submerge the rest of my body in this icy flow & have the whole thing over. i reminded myself that all water is holy water. i tried to call into memory how stinkin' hot i'd been all day as the yurt had transformed into a sauna. My knees cooperated & i dunked my head under 3 times.
i came out of the water about 20x faster than i'd gone in & didn't even notice that our, thick, fluffy towel was wet.
***
Antoine and i sat with our backs against a tree, chatting & drinking in the last of the sunshine.
"A beaver" Antoine pointed. i saw something moving downstream between the bushes submerged in the creek. it could've been a branch, so i tried not to get too excited.
Next to where we'd been splashing was a small dam. it's why we'd chosen that spot to 'wade in', because it's deep but not too fast. i've sat there on many occasions for great lengths of time & i'd never spotted a beaver.
Antoine and i kept watching.
"Keep still," said Antoine - with his 'i am wilderness guide, i've studied adventure tourism & about indigenous animals' voice. As the knowledge acquired in his course had allowed him to un-dislocate my knee (which is AWESOME now, by the way!) - i intended to listen to him.
The beaver reappeared in the
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| http://www.nicolasdory.com/2010/05/ |
water and continued downstream until he was in the spot where we'd dunked, just 5 mins before. He was moving incredibly slowly, so we really had time to watch and enjoy his presence. It's so special to see animals up close in the wild. He seemed to be sniffing, then locked onto our location. Most likely wondered why we're acting like statues: he swam right over to us. He stayed their a moment, directly in front of us (we were both whoop-whooping inside). Then he turned around, so his back was to us & thumped that great big beaver tail into the creek, spraying water at us and swam off.
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| http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beaver |
Feeling both dissed & honoured simultaneously, Antoine and i just stared at each other after. it's one of those moments where you're glad to have experienced it with someone else, because it's difficult to describe how magical & special it feels.
i broke the spell with a practical question.
"Do beavers bite?" i was imagining Jaws. But in a creek. With a beaver. Hey, those things have some teeth on them! Antoine wasn't so sure. i had it googled before my hair was even dry. The answer seems to be - yes, but it's rare. But all over google, is the story of the Belarusian fisherman who was killed after receiving 2 bites from a beaver! i also discovered, that the tail splashing, it a display of territory & to cause fear. Man is the only predator to beaver, so i can only imagine the guts it takes to swim right up to us & defend his home.
Thanks dude for letting us wade in your pool, don't know if i'll be in such a hurry to come for another dip.
******
Other yurt goings on have included...
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| Unexpected daffodils erupting outside. |
* Making a trailer for our short film, Oeil-De-Mère:
* Reading most of 'The Joy Luck Club' which is a fantastic book.
* Realising fried plantains (kind of like bananas) are an excellent accompaniment to veggie Mexican black bean stew.
* Collecting Labrador Tea in an adventurous, swampy, solo walk in the woods surrounding Beaver Creek. (It is now drying in the sun.)
* Giving Reiki to a stressed cat, who is a blessed and wonderful friend to their family for 13 years.
* Getting my shoulders & legs sun-burnt as i basked in Spring sunshine.
* Hosted another meditation circle last night in the yurt...lots of fun!
* i've also finally come to terms with the fact that Dodo-Rouge was more of a couch-surfer than a long-term tenant. Since we were gone over the weekend of the film shoot & didn't leave him any crumbs - he seems to have moved on. i imagine him chatting up the squirrel-ladies telling them about the 'sweet pad' he lived in & how internationally famous he is & how there are over 500 photos of him!
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| hanging laundry outside! |
This blog is dedicated to Grandma who celebrates her birthday tomorrow. She had a picture on the back of her bathroom door when i was a child, of an otter (kind of like a beaver) waving & saying 'hi mom'. Grandma also has the best names for pets...Thisby (black lab), Perriwinkle ('runt' of a black lab litter), Gargantua (tortoise), Bentley (grey macaw parrot), Seraphina (basset hound), Sally-Patches (adopted mixed dog, originally named Sally, from the local fishman), Tibby-Tibby-Tuskins (pet goat?!), Raggy bag & Peggy leg (2 cockatiels, one missing an eye, the other a leg), Magic (adopted, prenamed black lab), Duncan (pre-named predecessor to Bentley) & she'll be celebrating her 87th birthday with Tess, a pre-named, much loved lab rescued from a game-keeper. After reading this, Mum has also added...
Finkle
was a chipmunk. Frobisher was a terrapin. Nimbus was a budgie. Tupper
was a cocker spaniel. Sunday, Flopper and Pounder were cats. You would
have to ask Grandma what they called the 8 black lab puppies cos I
simply can't remember!!
It's an age thing but I bet Grandma at 87 will remember!!!!!
Grandma inspired me to travel, and probably regretted it, as i adopted to the feral, nomadic life! She also asked me one of the most pertinent questions of my life 'what are you contributing to the world?' in 2005, which prompted me to pack my bag & head to Pakistan to volunteer after the earthquake there.
Grandma writes the best emails, tells great stories, has been doing yoga before i was born & quit a computer class at the local library, when they insulted her by trying to tell her which way round to hold a mouse - she already knew how to skype!
Thank you Grandma, you are a legend!
A couple of mornings ago i was awoken to what sounded like Dodo Rouge tap-dancing on the yurt. Somehow the squirrel had managed to locate the precise position above where our sleepy heads where & commenced his routine. It sounded like he was also gnawing his way through the rope he'd climbed up (perhaps he wanted to free fall or bungee back down?). We called out "Dodo Rouge, it's too early for breakfast...let us sleep". But he continued, until Antoine gently punched repeatedly at the soft, insulated roof. It probably felt like a minor earthquake in the squirrel's world and he vacated the premises.
