I'm Done

Within days, I just wasn't feeling it.

I love Wales. Though I have only been there once, and that was more than 30 years ago, it has left an impression on me that hasn't faded. The beauty of the landscape and the kindness of the people will stay with me forever.

When I completed the Te Araroa trek of The Conqueror Virtual Challenge, I told myself that I didn't feel inclined to participate in another of these virtual journeys: not, unless, I discovered one that would be so enticing that I couldn't refuse it.

Nearly a year later, one challenge caught my attention and made me think of my short but memorable time in Wales: the Wales Coast Path. The 1,300-kilometre trail would take me past Conwy, Beaumaris, Caernarfon, Harlech, Cardiff, and more, before ending in Chepstow—all places that DW and I visited all those years ago.

I started the trek at the beginning of August, last year, and put some actual kilometres on my bike, in my kayak, and on foot while I virtually covered the norther coast of Wales. I was making good progress, confident that I'd be able to complete the challenge in 10 weeks.

But on the Isle of Anglesey, just past Beaumaris, I lost interest.

Not of Wales. The country of my ancestors still holds a piece of my heart and I hope to someday return. But the virtual challenge had lost its appeal.

I would go for days without logging my progress. And disagreeable weather kept me off my bike more times than I would have liked.

As the 10-week timeframe approached, I moved out the time period to 14 weeks. Then, 16. Then, 20. Then, 26. Less than halfway into the challenge, I was logging only my daily steps toward my goal.

I still enjoyed seeing the Welsh countryside when I logged a distance and then saw, through Google street view in the app, where I was in the countryside. But I knew that as soon as I reached the finish line, in Chepstow, I was done with the virtual challenges.

Chepstow Castle (taken when I was there, in 1991).

I reached the finish line, outside Chepstow Castle, on March 3, 210 days after starting the challenge. It took me 30 weeks to complete it.

I won't be getting a medal for this one. When I had signed up, I learned that the company that creates the app had changed their model, and that you have to pay extra to get a medal at the end of the challenge.

No thanks.

As soon as I reached the finish line, I deleted the app from my phone. I'm done.

It doesn't mean I'm going to stop being active (though, I haven't been as active as I usually am, if I'm being honest). I do need to exercise and get in shape for our upcoming vacation, in May, when I'll be performing an actual challenge, with lots of hiking and climbing.

I won't get a medal for that challenge, either, but the rewards will be far greater.

This is 60

Cupcakes and Karaoke

I couldn't help but have a flashback.

I wrote about this before, when I had a birthday party and decided to pick up a microphone and sing while friends danced around me. But that party was 52 years ago.

A couple of days ago, I celebrated turning 60. It wasn't my actual birthday: that's this coming Wednesday. Like in 1973, because my birthday is on a weekday, we held the celebration the weekend before.

DW asked me what I wanted to do to mark the end of my sixth decade and I said that I wanted to be surrounded by family and friends, to be with the people who mattered so much to me. We talked about reserving space at a favourite brewery, as it would have the space to accommodate everyone, and I liked that idea.

Secretly, she had already contacted Conspiracy Theory Brewery, as I had been frequenting the place, as of late, but when she told me, I was reluctant. While I liked going to Conspiracy Theory for karaoke, it wasn't a favourite brewery, nor even in my top 10 for Ottawa. Sure, they had the space but it wasn't quite the spot I had in mind.

Luckily, she hadn't made any solid plans and had only had a brief conversation with Paul Card, the owner. As it turned out, Conspiracy Theory, itself, wouldn't be around for my birthday celebration, anyway.

We did look at actual breweries that I love, and one didn't seem to have any event planned for March 1, so we reached out. DW had me compose the e-mail message, since they knew me and had once done something really nice for my birthday, a couple of years ago.

Unfortunately, when Melissa responded to me, she told me that they did, in fact, have a live show scheduled for March 1, and that it hadn't yet been added to their Web site. She said that the band was interactive with its audience and was a lot of fun, but I didn't really want to have a live band at my party, especially since I didn't know them, and so I thanked her but said I'd look elsewhere.

(I ordered some beer from them the next day.)

I had only been to Hummingbird Hall once, before we started discussing my party, and I already liked it. When we considered it as a party venue, I was practically sold.

Again, DW had me reach out to Dan, the manager of Hummingbird Hall, since we had already met, though only once, and he'd only remember me if he recognized Brown Knowser in my e-mail address and associate it with the person known as Brown Knowser at the previous karaoke night.

While I didn't want a live band at my party, I thought it might be fun to have karaoke. Lots of my friends like to sing and have done karaoke before. I'd be able to mingle with my friends between getting up on stage to sing, myself.

I put in the request, including lining up a KJ, and waited. Dan got back to me fairly quickly, gave me a quote for renting the room, with him running the bar, and for the KJ and the sound person.

And that was it. We were booked.

There were cupcakes. There were nibblies. There was singing. There was dancing. There was mingling and catching up with friends. Some family and friends came all the way from Toronto to help me celebrate. Kid 2 and my younger sister, who live in Toronto, made the trip to be here.

I'm so lucky. I was surrounded by love.

Photo credit: Marc Dufour

Photo credit: Marc Dufour

This was the first birthday party I had since my 50th, where we did gather for a live show, featuring my music idol, Midge Ure. It'll likely be the last one until my 70th birthday, should I make it that far.

But this party will go down as one of the best, far exceeding my eighth party (where some of my friends from 1973 were back to celebrate again).

This time, the mic was plugged in.

Photo credit: Mom

Peep Show

DW and I aren't sure why, but for more than six months, we've been receiving the BritBox streaming service, even though we haven't subscribed and aren't paying the monthly fee.

We're not complaining.

A couple of years ago, DW did subscribe to BritBox so that we could watch our favourite crime series, Shetland, and also so that we could check out other programs. But as soon as we were finished catching up on Shetland, we cancelled the subscription.

We had planned to renew our subscription when a new season of Shetland started up, but life got in the way and we never got around to it. We received reminders of the latest Shetland on our Apple TV box but did nothing about it.

Finally, about six months ago, DW and I decided that it was time to renew our BritBox subscription and clicked on the Shetland tile in our Up Next list on the Apple TV box. And, to our surprise, we weren't prompted to subscribe to the channel: instead, the show just started up.

We expected to see a charge on our credit card or on DW's Apple account, but one never came. And so we continued to watch it for free.

We've discovered many other shows but one that we stumbled upon is a comedy called Peep Show. No, it's not what you think but the title did make me think it was and, out of curiosity, I clicked it.

The series, which started in 2003, follows two dysfunctional friends who share an apartment in the South London community of Croydon. Mark Corrigan, played by David Mitchell, is an awkward finance manager, while his friend, Jeremey Jez Usbourne (Robert Webb) is an unemployed, second-rate musician.

The two friends seem to be polar opposites yet share the same awkwardness. And there are other recurring characters that add to the chaos. Olivia Coleman is a regular whose character, Sophie Chapman, is Mark's love interest.

Peep Show is addictive, and DW and I are almost finished the ninth season, which is the latest. We're not sure if it's the final season, as the show ended its run in 2015, but it seems to be the final season that is available on BritBox.

The theme song, Flagpole Sitta, by Harvey Danger, gets in my head and stays there for hours.

We've also watched a lot of other crime shows, such as The Bay, Unforgotten, Vera, and many, many more. Now that we've cancelled nearly all of our American streaming services—Prime, Paramount+, Disney+, Netflix—we've really cut down on our TV consumption but hope that BritBox remains.

And if they eventually start charging us, I think we'd be happy to pay.

When I Couldn't Sleep

It was going to be sunrise in about an hour and I hadn't slept all night.

I had been writing fiction, working on a story that would become part of a trilogy. My head was full of ideas and I was trying to figure out some broken ties. Though I had stopped typing—yes, I used a typewriter in 1989—my brain was still working away.

I also missed my girlfriend. We had only started dating a few months earlier but we had known each other for about a year before then. Shortly after we started our relationship, she had told me that she had a summer job, up in Northern Ontario, planting trees, and she would be away for two months.

Little did either of us know that she would later become DW.

With the story tumbling around my head and thoughts of my absent girlfriend, it was no wonder I couldn't fall asleep. And, finally noticing the time and realizing that the sun would be up soon, I decided to grab my camera, jump in my car, and drive.

I had no set destination. It wasn't uncommon for me to go for long drives in my '85 Pontiac Sunbird. I'd just get behind the wheel and go, letting each intersection randomly take me left, right, or straight on through.

In 1989, Barrhaven was considered way out in the boonies. So when I passed it and continued along Fallowfield Drive, toward vast farm fields, I was far from home. But it wasn't the furthest a random drive had taken me.

One time, I drove until I found myself along the St. Lawrence River, at the Ogdensburg bridge, and I decided to cross into the U.S.. Back then, a passport wasn't required; just a valid driver's license.

"Where are you headed?" the American border agent asked me.

"Just going for a drive."

"Just a drive?"

"Yes. I might stop and take some photos." I always had my camera bag in the back seat, just in case I saw something and wanted to capture it.

"You aren't looking to sell any camera gear, are you?" the border agent asked, looking suspiciously into the back of my car.

"Not at all. I just thought I'd drive along the south shore of the St. Lawrence, stop and take any photos along the way."

"How long do you plan to be driving?"

"Not long." It was already about 8:00 in the evening. I didn't want to be out all night.

The border agent waved me through. I got to Highway 37 and headed eastward, stopping in Waddington, New York, where I stopped to photograph an old church that was lit up in an eerie orange glow. I continued through Massena, which, at that hour, seemed closed up for the night, and crossed back into Canada at Cornwall.

Those were the easy days, when there was no questions for a 20-something out for a ride, crossing international borders. But I had an innocent face, to boot.

But on the day where I stayed up and went for a pre-dawn drive, I knew that no matter how much my Sunbird wanted to take me far away—maybe, as far as to see my girlfriend—I was going to stay relatively close to home.

I had to be at work for 9:00.

As I drove past Barrhaven, some fog was rolling in, sometimes thick enough to obscure the road ahead. Absolutely, I wasn't going to wander far in these conditions.

I made it as far as the village of Fallowfield and stopped near the united church, which, unlike the similar church in Waddington, was shrouded in darkness. Only it's outline was visible against the coming blue-hour light.

I took a few photos but felt the chill of the fog in the air, which was getting thicker as dawn drew nearer. Across the road, I captured the grain silos of Valleyview Farm. I even took some photos of my car, at the side of the road, in front of this scene.

The sun was going to be up at any moment and I had an idea for a shot I wanted to take. I climbed back into my Sunbird and raced back to Barrhaven.

In 1989, Barrhaven was relatively small. Farm fields occupied a lot of the land between Greenbank and Woodroffe, along Fallowfield Road. There was a small shopping mall near the railway crossing but not much else, once you crossed that spot. And Fallowfield Road was only a narrow, two-lane street.

I pulled to the side of the road, hopeful that my flashing taillights would alert anyone coming from behind. The fog was extremely dense, which made my photo plans perfect.

The sun had risen above the horizon and had lifted only a bit, but it was at a perfect height. I moved so that it was immediately behind the railway-crossing barrier and took my shot.

Within a minute or two, the first car of the morning made its way toward the crossing, coming from the east. Also, in the late 80s, this part of Fallowfield Road didn't see much traffic. The car had a burned-out headlight, giving it some character, so I took a wider-angled shot.

Satisfied with my work (but not knowing exactly how any shots turned out because this was before the digital age), I returned to my car and made my way homeward, stopping only once to capture another foggy-sunrise-silhouette shot. I was home before 6:30.

Plenty of time for a short nap before my alarm would sound, reminding me it was time to get ready for work.

Happy Thursday!