City Kayaking

Packing List

DW didn't think it could be done.

"It'll never fit," she said when I told her what I'm bringing to Portugal.

• Two D-SLR camera bodies
• Three lenses
• Tripod
• Three-metre monopod
• Two video cameras and accessories
• Mini-tripod
• Camera suction cup and mount
• Multi-port charging station and cables
• Laptop
• Three t-shirts
• Three short-sleeve dress shirts
• Two long-sleeve shirts
• Three pairs of pants
• Rain jacket
• Swim suit
• Three pairs of socks
• Water shoes and walking shoes
• Pajamas
• Three pairs of underwear
• Toiletries
• Ball cap
• Expedition hat

I don't like to check bags at the airport, so it all has to fit in my carry-on suitcase and small backpack. I bought a new pack that matches the dimensions of what I'm allowed to take with me on the plane that we've booked in Portugal, to fly from Porto to the Algarve.

"It'll never fit," said DW. "Don't take two D-SLRs, that's crazy."

"But I can put a wide-angle lens on one and a telephoto on the other," I explained, "that way I don't have to stop to change lenses. If I'm going to leave anything behind, it's my older video camera."

"I think you should do that."

"Nope. It'll fit."

We've been talking about creating our own packing lists and making sure that we have enough room in our storage cases to hold it all. Yesterday, I finally put my claim to the test.

I set out my suitcase and backpack on our bed and proceeded to gather all the things that I wanted to bring with me. When I laid everything on the bed, I actually thought that DW might be right, that I had too many things with me.

But then I remembered that we have packing cubes of various shapes and sizes. I used these cubes when I travelled to South Korea, in 2019, and they were really good at allowing me to stuff lots of clothing into small containers.

I also had to take into account that I was going to be wearing one pair of pants, underwear, socks, t-shirt, and dress shirt. I'd also have my walking shoes on my feet and my expedition hat on my head.

My underwear, socks, and swim trunks went into the smallest packing cube. In another cube, I added all of my shirts and pajamas. Two pairs of pants were rolled up around the legs of the tripod and will be used for extra padding. My ball cap will keep the suction cup (for mounting a video camera to a kayak) and clamp (for if there's no suitable surface for the suction cup) from moving around.

One of my D-SLR bodies goes into the suitcase, surrounded by the packing cubes. One lens is in a padded case and another is also between the packing cubes. My rain jacket can be stuffed into one of its pockets and becomes a soft case as well, which cushions the charge pack.

I'll carry the other D-SLR, in hand (no one has ever questioned me when I've done this.

I bought a small, soft, compartmentalized case, into which go both video cameras and their accessories, plus the mini tripod. This pack goes into my backpack, along with my toiletry kit bag and the three-metre monopod, laptop, and more cables and power cords.

I've even arranged things so that they're easily accessible, particularly when I go through the airport security. When I open the backpack, I can pull out the case with the cords and video cameras, and the laptop is easily removed from the back of the pack.

It took me about 15 minutes to gather all of my belongings and about 10 minutes to get it all arranged in the various storage containers. Admittedly, I had to lean on the suitcase to get the zipper closed and the backpack is at maximum capacity, but it all fits.

I'm ready to go.

We have 17 days to go before we board a train in Ottawa, bound for Montreal, and hop on a plane to Lisbon. At least now, I'm confident that I have everything that I need and that everything will fit into my suitcase and backpack.

It's quite the load but this part of preparing is now a load off my mind.

A New Pair of Eyes?

What was the distance between Tunney's Pasture and Westboro Station, along the transitway? Was it 400 metres? A half-kilometre?

I'm talking pre-LRT. I'm thinking about 2001, when DW was at home, on parental leave, when Kid 1 was a newborn. Twenty-one years ago, I used to take the bus to and from work because DW needed our vehicle and we only had one at the time.

In 2001, I worked at Corel Corportation, on Carling Avenue. In the mornings, I would take the bus from Fallowfield Station, in Barrhaven, and would get a good connection so that I could transfer to a bus that would take me right to the office.

In the afternoon, my connections wouldn't be that great and I'd often find myself on a crowded bus, especially the one to which I'd transfer, at Lincoln Fields. But I discovered that if I walked down Churchill Avenue to Westboro Station, I'd be able to get on an express bus that would take me all the way to my neighbourhood (Fallowfield Station, at the time, was the terminus for buses coming from downtown, except for express buses, which continued through my suburban community).

While I waited at Westboro Station for my bus—the 73—I liked to look down the transitway corridor toward Tunney's Pasture, from where the 73 would emerge. The distance, I guessed, was a half of a kilometre away.

But what I would also do, especially if there were other riders waiting at the stop, was to call out the number of the approaching bus as soon as I saw it emerge from a slight bend in the road, just after leaving the previous station. These buses were easily 400 metres away.

The other riders who heard me call out the approaching bus numbers would look at me with amazement. The numbers from that distance were very small, indeed.

"How can you read that?" one would ask.

"That's incredible!" remarked another.

In my 20s, I had my eyes tested and it was estimated that I had 70/20 vision. That is, what some could only read at 20 feet, I could read at 70. I also had very good night vision and to this day, I rarely turn on lights in a darkened room because I can make my way around quite well.

When I reached 40, my eyes started giving me trouble. When I read a book, I would find that I would hold it farther and farther from my face and I would need more light to clearly see the words. When it got to a point that my arms would be fully outstretched to read, I knew it was time for another eye exam.

It was determined that I had become far-sighted and that I would need glasses to read. But my right eye, which is my dominant one, was weaker than my left, and so I needed a different magnification for each eye.

But my eyes were still changing and I found that over the years that followed my first prescription, I was once again holding my books farther and farther away.

Being the lazy and cheap person that I typically am, I didn't want to take another eye test and fork out more money for new glasses, and so I picked up a set of reading glasses from the grocery store that corrected for my dominant eye. The other eye would just have to adjust.

More years went by and more changes caused me to buy stronger and stronger reading glasses. I also required different magnifications, based on whether I was reading a book, looking at my smartphone, or working at my computer.

I have reading glasses all over the house and in the car.

I think that over the pandemic, with me working from home, I spend more time in front of a computer screen. All of my meetings are now virtual, so I don't give my eyes a break from the monitors. Sometimes, when I finish work, I stay in front of my computer, choosing to write a blog post from where I'm sitting, rather than wait until later and work from my personal machine.

I watch more TV because I don't go out as often as I used to and I always have the television going when I work out on my spin bike.

As a result of the increased screen time, I find that I have headaches more frequently and I get incredibly tired, fighting most afternoons to keep my eyes open as I continue to do my job. Almost every day, I have to take 30 minutes to lay down and close my eyes, to get away from any and all screens.

I miss my old eyes.

Last week, for the first time in at least 15 years, I went to an optometrist and had my eyes tested. But I explained that I didn't just want the bandage solution of prescription glasses: I want a permanent solution.

The optometrist referred me to an eye clinic, where we could discuss laser eye surgery or even lens replacement surgery. Surprisingly, I was contacted by the clinic the very next day and, the day after that, was in the office, talking to a specialist.

I learned that laser eye surgery is performed on the cornea, where lasers reshape the cornea to better-direct the light before it passes through the lens. This procedure takes about 15 minutes, per eye, and after about 72 hours and a follow-up appointment, I'd be good to go.

I would need to have each eye set up for different focal lengths: one, for seeing things up close; the other, for distance. It takes about three weeks for the brain to adjust to focusing one eye for a specific function, but I've been told that my eyes have already been doing that for years.

Unfortunately, laser eye surgery is rarely permanent and I may find myself requiring glasses down the road or another procedure.

The other procedure involves replacing the lens itself with an artificial one. The lens would be designed so that I could see at all distances from the one eye. Because of my eyes differing, each lens would be specifically corrected. It would be like having a new pair of eyes.

Of course, my vision wouldn't be as good as it was before my 40s but I would never need prescription glasses again and I would never require cataract surgery.

But this option costs twice the price of laser eye surgery and I tried to curb my shock when I saw the price tag.

So now I'm reading up on both and I have a lot to think about. And I'm very interested to get feedback from any of you who have had corrective eye surgery.

Have you had laser eye surgery (intralase SBK)? Lens-replacement surgery (Refractive Lens Exchange)? Both?

I'm looking to hear about your experiences—good and bad. Please leave me a comment, below, and talk me into or out of one procedure or the other, or both/neither.

I'm not looking to read from half a kilometre away. But it would be nice to never put glasses on my face again.

Not a good look for me.

Happy Monday!

(BTW: today marks the 2,500th published post on The Brown Knowser! I love milestones!)

Cut and Cut Some More

Slowly but surely, I'm getting better at editing my videos.

When I look back on some of my earlier YouTube videos, I sort of cringe and tell myself that many of the clips are too long. I literally speak out loud, saying, "All right, we get it. Move on."

Fortunately, I'm not the only one who shows clips in their videos that hang on just a bit longer than necessary: sometime, much longer than is required. Because I've been watching countless videos of Portugal for DW's and my upcoming vacation, there are times when the videographer hangs on just a bit too long or overexplains something.

If it happens too much through a video, I'll stop watching and move on to the next video. No one wants that. We make videos to be viewed to the very end, or at least until the signoff.

I'm hoping that viewers of The Brown Knowser YouTube channel are entertained or informed, and that they want to watch the video to the very end. And to that end, I'm trying my best to be critical of my footage, to pull out parts that are unnecessary.

Last month, DW and I took our kayaks to Mississippi Mills, about a half hour west of home, and put in along the Mississippi River in Almonte. We've paddled the Mississippi both upstream and downstream from Pakenham before, but have never kayaked in Almonte, one of the prettiest towns in the Ottawa Valley.

As with most kayaking adventures, I mounted my 360-degree camera to the deck of my craft and captured video throughout the trek. By the time I had covered the five kilometres or so of the river, I had more than 30 minutes of video recorded.

For a kayaking video, that's too much. And on this trip, there was not a lot of action in the video footage (we still say 'footage,' don't we, even though it's all digital?). I captured the Mill Falls, a small brook that fell into the Mississippi, a few paddleboarders and a kayaker, and the rapids that forced me to turn around.

Of course, DW appeared in the video clips, too, but because she was more interested in photographing wildlife, she took her time and fell behind. I didn't see her again until I was on my way back.

When I first looked at all of the footage, I wondered if there was anything really worth sharing. I considered deleting all of the clips—we had recently paddled on Lac la Pêche, in Gatineau Park, and I deleted all those clips because there wasn't much worth capturing.

Editing footage is the most time-consuming element to creating videos and with our Lac la Pêche trip, it seemed like too much work for too little gain.

Back to my Mississippi Mills video, I decided to cut out any clips that seemed repetitive, and then I cut down the remaining clips even more. I played back the whole thing, from beginning to end, and any time I felt like I wanted to see the next clip, I'd stop the video and cut at the point that I wanted to move on.

The result is a three-and-a-half-minute video that gives the essence of paddling along this portion of the Mississippi River. Have a look:

What do you think? Too long, too short, or just right?

As always, if you did like the video, please hit that thumbs-up button and I'd be grateful if you subscribed to my channel.

I'm continuing work on my video from last summer's camping trip in Algonquin Park, which I hope to have ready in early September. I'm also planning to shoot lots of video in Portugal, so I hope to have more content to share in October.

Happy Friday!

The Last-Minute Vacation

DW really took control of the situation on this one.

Indeed, there was no pre-planning, no lead up to this vacation, 11 years ago this week. It still goes down as the most spontaneous trip that our family has ever taken.

It's also the first vacation that I shared on The Brown Knowser.

We knew that the summer was wrapping up and that the kids would soon be heading back to school, and we wanted them to have some good memories to take back with them. But because both girls had been in competitive dance and we had used up some of our vacation time in travelling to various cities for competitions, we only had a week to enjoy to ourselves before everything started up again.

We had barely wrapped up our Saturday breakfast when DW exclaimed that she had found a place. "How long would it take to drive to Cape Cod?" she asked me.

I consulted Google Maps. "At least nine hours of straight driving, so let's say about 11, taking in for traffic and rest stops."

"Quick, start packing," she said, "I'll make the call." She hadn't yet given me any details but I knew that once DW was determined, there was no stopping her.

I like to call myself a professional packer. DW and I have travelled enough in our lifetime that we know exactly what we need and how to gather it quickly. It was a bit of a challenge with the kids, as we needed to not only pack their necessities but also grab things that they would want to play with on the journey plus things that would be fun for them wherever we ended up.

I could hear DW on the phone, obviously talking to the person who owned wherever it was we were going. By the time I had the girls and my bag packed, DW had come running up the stairs to pack her own bag while I started loading up our minivan. Within an hour, we were ready to go, complete with snacks to keep us all in good spirits.

It took us about an extra hour than we had calculated to get from Ottawa to Dennis Port, Massachusetts, and we were exhausted. After meeting our hosts in Boston and getting the keys to the rental cottage, we had enough time to unpack the van and go to bed.

The next day, a Sunday, would be the real start to the vacation.

Over the course of the week, we would hang out on beaches, paddle through a conservation area, eat fabulous food, and see humpback whales up close and personal. We would even outrun a hurricane and take shelter in Boston.

I won't recount all of our adventures but if you're interested, you can read about them as follows:

• Wordless Wednesday: A Day at the Beach
• Ar... Thar Be Whales!
• Living in Interesting Times
• Wordless Wednesday: Irene in Boston
• Rock You Like a Hurricane

Yes, DW spontaneously booked us a getaway and got us hustling to get to our spot. But once all the rush was out of the way, we did have a wonderfully memorable time.

Until we had to hustle to get away from that vacation spot!

Happy Thursday!

A Quiet Spot on the Rideau

Beer O'Clock: Hopsicle

There's nothing better than receiving a surprise care package delivered to your front door. Especially, on a Friday afternoon, when you'll have the whole weekend to enjoy it.

That's exactly what happened to me, last Friday, as I was thinking about the weekend.

Spearhead Brewing Company, in Kingston, has been very good to me for many years, sending me packages that contain their newest releases, as well as a few favourites thrown in. I don't know what I've done to deserve such generosity (a few kind reviews, perhaps?) but I'm always happy to support one of my favourite breweries and I hope they don't stop surprising me.

The latest delivery contained three new brews and three familiar beverages. They went straight into the fridge (after the following photo was shot) because they arrived warm from the summer heat and I wanted to tuck into them as soon as possible.

One of the cans that caught my eye immediately was the bright yellow can. I had seen tweets from Spearhead, promoting the sparkling rosé ale (at the time of writing, already sold out) and the Czech pilsner, but the can with the hop cooling itself on a block of ice intrigued me.

And so, that's the one I've chosen to review. And hopefully, this small-batch release will still be available by the time this release is posted (I chose Tuesday, rather than Thursday, to buy you a couple of days).

I took more than an hour to finish this glass because it was my only sample and I wanted to be as thorough with my notes as possible. I wanted to make sure I captured all of the flavours accurately.

You're welcome.

Hopsicle Cold IPA (5.4% ABV, 42 IBUs)
Spearhead Brewing Company
Kingston ON

Appearance: a slightly unfiltered yellow-gold with a bright, foamy head that settles to a solid cap. The head changes to a fine lace with the first sip. Over time , the ale seems less cloudy, though there is no evidence of sediment on the bottom.

Nose: fresh grapefruit with a touch of pine.

Palate: the pine is much more pronounced in the mouth and leads the flavours of grapefruit rind and citrus, and ends with a dry finish. The hops are quite prominent on this cold-brewed ale.

I detected none of the cherry, blackberry, or strawberry that Spearhead put in their tasting notes for the ale, none of which I'd expect in an IPA, anyway. All of the flavours I sensed were typical for the style.

Overall impression: Hopsicle is an interesting take on an IPA and should please those who love a good, hoppy ale. With an aromatic bouquet and a dry, bitter flavour, it makes for a serious summer thirst quencher. Made in small batches (Spearhead promises another one for late August), you should snag some of this ale while you can.

Experimentation is one of Spearhead's strong points. As they say, they're always looking to move outside of their comfort level, and this beer is a testimony to that curiosity. Keep doing what you're doing, Spearhead!

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺

Spearhead offers free delivery within Kingston (minimum purchase required) or throughout Ontario for a modest fee.

Cheers!

One Last Time?

The last time I walked out the doors of Century Public School, I told myself that it would be for the last time. I even told you the same thing in a blog post, more than five years ago.

And then I was back in my kindergarten classroom, checking in for my second booster shot of the COVID-19 vaccine. I now have a blend of three vaccines: AZ, Pfizer, and now, Moderna. It's a cocktail of protection.

I entered through the same door that would lead me to the kindergarten class. The tiny desks were stacked in the area where we used to hang up our jackets and stow our outdoor shoes. Larger tables were spread out in the classroom, with plexiglass barriers and volunteers waiting to help me.

My kindergarten classroom, from five years ago.

"This was my kindergarten classroom," I told the person who scanned my health card. Even his neighbouring volunteer heard and took notice. "Although," I added, "it seems that they've lowered the ceiling since I was a young student here."

Once checked in, I was directed to turn right and go to the end of the hall, where I would be further directed by another volunteer.

"Am I heading to the gymnasium?" I asked.

"I guess you know your way around," the registration volunteer said. "Yes. Enjoy your trip down memory lane."

The hallway for the kindergarten classrooms ended at an intersection that either took you straight, to the principal's office; right, to the main entrance; or left, to the gym. Both doors were wide open and I could feel the air circulating. I correctly surmised that the emergency exit doors, inside the gym, were open, too.

There was no waiting, I was directed at the entrance to a vacant table where a nurse was ready to administer her next shot. The chair in which I was seated faced toward the stage—its curtains drawn open and with a few people seated at desks close to the edge. I felt like I was at an assembly, though the stage itself seemed smaller, even though I only saw it five years earlier.

The gymnasium, from five years ago.

As I felt the jab of the needle, I looked at the stage and remembered jumping off it, at the end of rehearsal for a class play, and having sprained my ankle. That accident marked the first time I had ever needed crutches.

I also had to sit out of the performance.

After the jab and rest period, I left the gymnasium and was directed to turn left and go down the hall to a station where I would check out.

The woman who checked me out was in a chatty mood, so I mentioned that we were in my old elementary school. "I bet it's been a while since you were here," she said. "Does it bring back memories?"

"It does," I admitted, "but I was here a few years ago, just before the school shut its doors. I contacted the principal and he allowed me to wander the halls and take some photos. It was nice to head upstairs and see some classrooms and visit the library, where I had spent a lot of time. So many memories."

"There's an upstairs?" she exclaimed. "I didn't know that."

Her station was set up next to a vestibule that led out to the back of the school. In the vestibule was a set of stairs, heading upward. "Those stairs go somewhere," I told her. We laughed.

Stairs leading up to the library and more classrooms.

"Well, then, you just head past those stairs and make your way out," she said, still chuckling. "Have a good evening."

"You too," I replied, adding, "thanks for taking the time to help the community."

I walked out of Century Public School, perhaps for the last time. Five years ago, I thought I would never have a reason to return, but when I registered to have my vaccine booster and my old school came up as a site option, I jumped at the chance to go in one more time.

This was the place where I had received one of my very first vaccine shots. Indeed, as I walked down the hall from the gymnasium to where I was to check out, I passed by the nurse's station, which was a small room to my right. The door was open and the room was mostly vacant, save for a chair. But I could almost envision a small bed for a little person to rest, a desk for the nurse, and a small chair that I would have sat on to get a shot against polio, or chicken pox, or other required vaccines at the time.

In a way, I had come full circle. Here I was, again, getting a vaccine in the place where my education began. Not in the same room but in an institution that gave me so many memories that I carry with me.

Will I step inside again? Who knows? But this recent visit has taught me one thing:

Never say "for the last time."

Beer O'Clock: Tequilima

Mango margarita in Mexico.

"Why wouldn't you just have a margarita?"

DW saw me approach her and the shopping cart as I walked from the aisle that was filled with craft beer, two cans in my hands.

"Those look colourful," she said, eyeing the bright-green, patterned can. In bold, white letters, the name Bongo was the most prominent word. "Is that the beer you tried to order at breakfast last weekend?"

She was referring to the previous Sunday, when she, Kid 1, and I met with my parents for breakfast. We were able to sit on the patio of Big Rig Kitchen and Brewery, on Iris Street, near IKEA. When we were seated and our server asked us if we'd like coffee or something else to drink, I asked him if they were allowed to sell any of their beer at that time of morning.

I had noticed that the breakfast menu had included some morning cocktails: if the brewery could sell those, perhaps I could have a light, fruity radler. It was a bright, sunny, and warm morning, after all.

I learned that Big Rig was not licensed to sell alcohol before 11:30, and we were about an hour or so too early. It was a shame, as I thought that the Bongo Grapefruit Radler would hit the spot. I hadn't had one in a few years, when I wrote another Beer O'Clock review.

Coffee it had to be.

So, when I found myself in a beer aisle in a grocery store and saw the bright-green can with Bongo on the label, I moved in for a closer look. This was a new Bongo, one with tequila and lime. And beer. (It can't be a radler without beer.)

Two cans it had to be.

When I explained to DW that it was not the same Bongo that I was looking for at our Sunday brunch, that these green cans held a radler that was flavoured with tequila and lime, her next question seemed straightforward and honest.

"Why wouldn't you just have a margarita?"

Indeed, why wouldn't I?

DW and I love margaritas. Last February, when we were in Mexico, mango margaritas were our staple beverage. I couldn't tell you how many we had over that fabulous week, but it's fair to say we had a lot. We even made some of them when we returned home, whizzing frozen chunks of mango in our blender with a healthy dose of tequila (brought home from our trip) and a few dashes of concentrated lime juice.

This summer, thanks to the margarita mix that we find at Costco and the ample tequila we still have from Mexico, I drink almost as many standard margaritas at home as I drink beer.

So, would this tequila and lime radler from Big Rig make for as refreshing a Caribbean cocktail? Let's find out.

Bongo Tequilima Cerveza Radler (2.9% ABV)
Big Rig Brewery
Ottawa ON

Appearance: this radler pours almost like a cider, with a clear, effervescent, pale straw-yellow and a foamy, bubbly white head that quickly settles down and dissipates, with only a few bubbles rising to the top of the brew.

Nose: tart lime hits the nostrils immediately, mixed with a bit of green apples. I was also met with a hint of yeast, like unbaked bread. Again, I was reminded of cider, rather than beer. (In a radler, that's not necessarily a bad thing.)

Palate: there's a sweetness that hits the tongue straight away and is chased by a more-pronounced lime. My thought is that this is very much like The Pop Shoppe Lime Ricky Hard Soda, but without the cloying sweetness.

I do find, however, that there's a bit of an artificial sweetness to this radler that gets carried to the finish.

The tequila is there, also toward the finish, but is very subtle, which is no surprise. At only 2.9% ABV, there can't be that much of that liquor in the can. There is also an overlying flavour of biscuit that keeps all other flavours from getting out of hand. The fruit in the finish is short but the sweet tequila lingers.

Overall impression: Bongo Tequilima is a crushable, easy-drinking radler with an interesting flavour profile. It quenches your thirst with its light body and would be perfect on a patio, on a hot summer day. The low alcohol content means you could have a couple without feeling a buzz.

But does it replace a margarita? Absolutely not, nor do I think it's trying to carry itself off as an alternative to a margarita. The biscuity notes tell you there's more ale than tequila, and the tequila, I think, is there to cut the tartness of the lime. It all works very well together but is a very different drink to a margarita.

If you like margaritas and crave one, stick to what you know and love. If you want a light ale and are curious about something different from the traditional lemon, orange, or grapefruit radler, Bongo Tequilima is definitely worth your attention.

Beer O'Clock rating: 🍺🍺

You can find Bongo Tequilima in the LCBO, in various grocery stores, and can be ordered from Big Rig. The brewery offers free shipping within Ottawa with a minimum purchase and throughout Ontario for a modest fee.

Cheers!

Parks and Marinas

It's a Good Kind of Tired

I'm so exhausted from this weekend and, as I wrote this post, last night, I already knew that I was going to be hurting today. So let me say it:

I'm hurting today.

But it's a good kind of pain, and my exhaustion comes from good activities.

As I wrote in a previous post, DW and I are trying to get in shape for our upcoming vacation, in Portugal. Because two of the cities that we plan to visit are full of hills—Porto and Lisbon—we've been going for walks in parts around Ottawa that have hills. We need to prepare our legs for lots of climbing.

We've walked around Hog's Back Park and Vincent Massey Park, which are neighbouring parks that are separated by hills, and they've given us a bit of a workout. But we also need to do some good cardio work, and this weekend saw a lot of it.

Saturday morning started early, when I hopped on my bike and cycled to Metcalfe, about 35 kilometres to the southeast of Ottawa. It was a cool morning and I rode through cool fog as I followed Earl Armstrong Road, between Limebank and Bowesville Roads. I don't think I've ever cycled through fog before and I came out of it a bit damp and chilled.

On my return ride, I weaved through some side streets in my neighbourhood to draw the distance out a bit. By the time I pulled into my driveway, I had covered 71.3 kms, making that ride the longest that I have done this year. I entered the house feeling hungry (no breakfast before the ride and only one nut energy bar in Metcalfe) so I quickly fried myself a ham and cheese omelet and needed to keep moving, lest I flop on the sofa and end my day early.

I changed into some shorts and a t-shirt, and headed outside to mow the lawn. With the heavy rains we've had, and because I was lazy the previous weekend and didn't cut the grass, the lawn was thick and long. It took our mower more than twice as long to cut the front, back, and sides, and by the time I was done, I was thoroughly soaked in sweat (as if I hadn't already worked up a sweat on my ride!).

I stopped long enough to sit on my front porch with a small can of beer—non-alcoholic beer, lest I doze off—and then it was on to more chores; this time, indoors.

DW, Kid 1, and I divvied up the chores, with my ladies giving me a break, since I had already been so active. They worked on different areas of the house while I was tasked with giving our kitchen and family room a thorough cleaning and vacuuming.

I was even able to afford myself a short, 30-minute nap to recharge my batteries. By then, it was time to clean myself up.

I showered, shaved, and put some clean clothes on, but that wasn't the end of the day. I wanted to head downtown to catch the fireworks, on the Ottawa River, as part of the Casino du Lac-Leamy annual festival of light and sound.

DW, who also wanted to see the show but needed to get more exercise in, cycled downtown while I drove the car. We met up at the underground garage, at City Hall, and DW changed from her cycle gear next to the car while I stowed her bike in the back of the vehicle.

As anyone who knows me will tell you, I don't like to photograph fireworks in the same place, twice. This means I always have to come up with a new vantage point. For Saturday's display, I chose the National War Memorial, which is a short walk from City Hall.

I was a bit conflicted in this choice of sight. While it is a picturesque location, I wondered how a site that is dedicated to remembering the horrors of war and to those who sacrificed their lives for our freedom would be pitted against an event that is a celebration.

Would the explosions of fireworks be a painful memory to some veterans?

For me, the fireworks display by Mexico would cap off a perfect day. But the exercise for the weekend was not quite done.

On Sunday morning, DW and I arose early and decided to go for a hike. It had been several years since we've hiked up to the Tawadina Lookout, in Gatineau Park, so we chose to head to Meech Lake and hike this moderate but steep trail.

The climb was much steeper than we remembered, and I now wonder if we took the right trail. But somewhere along our route, we took a wrong turn and ended up at the Champlain Lookout. It had been a while since DW and I had been to this lookout, as well, so we were satisfied to sit and have a small snack and look westward, toward Quyon and beyond, before heading back.

According to my smart watch, we had climbed the equivalent of 50 flights of stairs and covered nearly 12 kms in that hike. I think Portugal will not be an issue for us.

We drove back into town, stopping on the way home to pick up some groceries (we chose a grocery store far from our neighbourhood because we were sweaty and grubby, and didn't want to risk running into people we know) and lunch at a drive-thru. But when we got home, we barely had enough time to put the groceries away, shower, and change before we were onto our next adventure.

We strapped our kayaks onto the car and drove to the Hartwells Lockstation, along the Rideau Canal. We had made plans to meet with some friends on Dow's Lake and paddle along the waterway.

We decided to paddle to Patterson Creek and stop at the NCC Bistro for drinks, before paddling back. We had a great time with our friends, both on the water and at a table, and by the time we had returned to Hartwells Lockstation, we had covered more than nine kilometres.

We returned home, had a late dinner, and called it a day. (Actually, DW headed upstairs while I sat down to write this post. Which can probably account for why I've rambled on—thanks for being patient, if you've read to the end.)

I'm tired.

Saturday, I covered more than 80 kms between cycling and walking. Sunday, more than 23 kms of walking, climbing, and kayaking. Though I covered more ground on Saturday, the distances that I achieved on Sunday took far more energy.

So yeah, I was tired by the time my head hit my pillow, last night. But it's a good kind of tired. It's the kind of fatigue that comes with the satisfaction of having achieved so much, both in chores and in leisure. I'm not complaining at all.

And the pain that I most likely feel today? It's a good kind of pain. I'd do it again, and will likely do something similar next weekend.

How was your weekend?

Happy Monday!

Low-Key Olivia

This post might not be suitable for viewing at work. I'm pretty sure it isn't, especially since I added the final photo, which is full-frontal, to the post. Yup, definitely not for viewing at work.

And so I'm going to post this warning, as I did for a previous post. You've been duly warned.

The last low-key photography meetup that I did was in 2019, with BC model Olivia Preston. It might have been the best model photo shoot that I've done, mainly because Olivia is easy to work with and basically just does her own thing.

As I said on Tuesday, I haven't done anything with these photos since I processed them. I sent them to Olivia but that was about it.

So, for Photo Friday, I thought I'd share a few of them. Some are implied nudity: others are explicit. And I hope that you find them to be tasteful. Let me know how you feel about me sharing these photos on my blog in the Comments section.

As always, thoughts and comments are welcome.

Happy Friday!