Roddy Flats Fields of Gold Blues: Monday, April 18th!

You can only protect your liberties in this world by protecting the other man's freedom. You can only be free if I am free. -Clarence Darrow, lawyer and author (18 Apr 1857-1938)

Hi Luise! Sorry I've not replied sooner but life has been a social whirlwind! Close freinds, Rosemary and Andre, (from London/Chabeuil, a tiny village southeast of Lyon by a couple of hours), arrived late afternoon on Sunday. Earlier that day I was putting finishing touches to the patio bricks around the raised vegetable surround we have in our front yard. Then I was splitting wood. Enjoyed a lovely evening with them, much of the time on our back patio, under the new louvered roof, as weather was fabulous. Today I was on another wonderful hike, along with Spamela. 

We had a chance to chat, while eating our sandwiches on the short lunch break groups always takes, about your coming visit. Thank you for the lovely dinner invitation to the Hooded Merganser. Great choice for all the right reasons, walking distance, food, view, etc. However, I guess I hadn't mentioned that Lady Darjeeling, (aka Corinne, my wife!), will not be joining us as she will, in fact, be in Vancouver for the weekend! Unfortunately, for her, she had made plans before we knew you would be staying. Not a big deal, (although she'd love to meet you, of course), but she won't be attending dinner on Friday, obviously, in case you wish to notify restaurant.

Anyway, glad to know that you plan to arrive mid-afternoon. Spumoni had thought that you might want to go for a short hike, (She mentioned Skaha Bluffs), after you hit town. If you want to do this, that is fine. I won't join you as I'm driving back from Vancouver that morning, (Like you!), and I'm planning to be home between 1:00 pm-2:00 pm, or earlier, all going well. Should you decide to hike I suggest you go to Spamela's place first and then, after hike, come to our place to "check-in", shower and change for dinner, etc. If you don't wish to hike, you can come directly here, with or without Pam, at that point, depending on her schedule, etc.), and we can visit until it is time to walk to restaurant. We probably need about 20-30 minutes for a leisurely walk to Hooded Merganser so we should probaly leave our place around 6:40 pm +/-. 

We live at 611 Burns Street. I assume you have some sort of GPS capability but if not I can send along more detailed instructions. Not hard to find where we live, in any event. Home number in case you need to call. 

Just back from an afternoon of wine-tasting on the Naramata Bench, Poplar Grove, Black Widow and Deep Roots. Must away as a new neighbour, across back lane is coming for a drink. Let me know what you think and we'll plan accordingly. Fondestos and Cheers, Patrizzio!

Patrick Well once again you playing the host with the most! And we're disappointed we won't meet Corrine this time. You will definitely have to come to our place :)  We will try and get in a hike with Pam before dinner. We will be coming from the south as we're in Washington state at a workshop until we drive north Thurs, staying at a yet to be determined place!

We could meet for a drink under the new addition, before dinner, although it sounds as if it's been christened!! See you soon Luise  
Dear Patrick Love your lawn furniture and the table looks great!   I biked to work this week and I am feeling very good as my left leg feels much stronger than last year when I tried biking in July.  Feel like there is an improvement. Keep in touch.  Hope we can get together when you are here. Cheers for now Jo-Anne

Crept out of bed at 6:44 am to tiptoe into the kitchen so as not to awaken our slumbering guests, Rosemary and Andre. Had been a lovely, late night, catching up, having not seen them for over a year, last April, in Vancouver, a month or so before we moved here. At any rate, I did some of the dinner dishes that I hadn't been able to fit into the dishwasher the night before and then made my sandwiches for the coming hike. Luigi, [I can be there Patric], had very kindly offered to collect me and she arrived around 8:20 am. 

Mad Max, her handsome, dashing son, was waiting in the car as he was coming on the hike, as well. I'd met him on one of the earlier outings so it was terrific to see him again. Once at HH it was almost a reunion as many "regulars" who had been away, for one reason or another, we there. After greeting one another and chatting briefly, we car pooled our way to Summerland, Bad Boy and Bonita hitching a ride with us. Same sort of gathering took place in the IGA parking lot as there were more people I'd not seen since before Christmas. Once lingering smooches and slaps on the back were exchanged, Chuckster, (Unfortunately, one of Tony the Tiger's knees was bothering him, laying him low, so he had to relinquish his leadership role, rather unwillingly, I'm led to believe, Dear Reader!), ordered us back into our respective vehicles and we headed out of town to make for Bathville Road. A kilometre or so beyond the rodeo grounds we parked the cars, just before a cattle guard, in an almost made-to-measure, small, off road clearing.

Our destination was Roddy Flats and we had hiked, with Tyrannosaurus Tinka, some time before, during the Paleolithic, I believe, perhaps the Phanerozoic Eon, I'm not sure, in this general area, so I was somewhat familiar with the terrain. However, on that earlier hike there was still plenty of snow around so it was quite a different landscape that awaited, as I was soon to discover. Had remembered to turn on my Garmin as soon as we started out but the uncooperative, cranky device didn't seem to be able to locate a satellite until about twenty minutes into the hike. As I was waiting for this to happen, Bad Boy and I walked together, along the the more than pleasant, narrow track, which gradually became steeper, as we climbed, but never inordinately difficult. Footing was usually very, very, sure, both climbing and descending, the soil soft and forgiving but not so loose that slipping was much of an issue.

Day was glorious, from the get-go, so everyone had dressed appropriately and nobody needed to peel off any outer wear once we'd reached the tops of the first few small hills before we reached and crossed Roddy Flats. Leaving the flats behind us, we stopped at the base of the next hill for the first official group photo. Mad Max, with his veddy, veddy expensive camera, telescopic lenses, tripods and light metres galore, trying to push me out as Official Photographer. The jury is still out, as of this writing, but I think his rates are much too high for the parsimonious pensioners in the group so I believe I stand a rather good chance of keeping the title, at least until I impose my own fees!

Alice through the looking glass

Art: John Tenniel, 1871

---

The hillside backdrop to the group photograph was the start of an almost unbelievable hike through what can only be described as waving fields of gold, Balsam-root in full riot, endlessly on parade, often as far as the eye could see. For the better part of an hour we waded, ankle to mid-calf deep, up hillsides and down dales, through these glorious, shining plants, their stunning petals delicate, living ingots of precious metal beyond compare. St Kilian and I were together, at this point, and, as we marveled at the beauty in which we were immersed, we tried to describe the colour of these remarkable petals, unsuccessfully, as it turned out, as we simply didn't have the right vocabulary to do justice to their particular shade of yellow. Now, with access to Google, I would suggest that the hues ranged anywhere from Bumblebee to Butter to Lemon to Pineapple, at least according to the chart I consulted. No never mind, however one chooses to describe the sight, the effect was that the experience was head-shakingly magical, through the looking glass visually disorienting. 

After about twenty minutes of swimming our way through this wonder, Cool Hand Chuckster stopped us atop a charming, rocky knoll and here we took our lunch break, settling ourselves on the various rocky outcrops and fallen trees to enjoy our picnic fare and chat, most amicably, with one another. Spamela and I had occasion to sit across from each other and as we munched, she on her characteristic apple, I on caviar, washed down with chilled vodka, she remarked on the bright yellow stains on my trouser legs, bright daubs from the paint brush petals of the Balsam root we'd trekked through earlier. Delighted to be so annointed, I finished off my flask of hootch in one gulp, toasting my comrades and the great good fortune that shined down upon us all, allowing us to drink in the incredible spectacle of returning spring life.

Not one to let his troops rest over long in idyllic bliss, basking in the sunshine, taking in the slightly hazy views of the surrounding mountains and valleys below, Cruel Chuck bellowed the order, "Move Out!", and we scurried to gather our few possessions and fall into line, all at double time, and the return leg was on. The descent took us on a slightly different route so we covered some new territory, negotiating one or two quite steep slopes, causing normally easy-going Colleen to call in to question the very nature of the leadership, couched in blistering, unprintable language, I'm sorry to report, Dear Reader!  Fortunately, no mishaps, the footing fine as long as one took care and we were rewarded, once on a gentler slope, to come across three or four wild horses, these grand creatures putting on a bit of show, seemingly just for us, moving around in a flurry of tight circles before they dashed off, into the surrounding trees. 

Not long after we were treated to a graceful aerial fly past as the almost cloudless sky was filled with a ragged formation of Sandhill Cranes, I believe, (Please confirm or correct, Dear Zoologists!), crying to one another as they passed overhead. And then, leaving the faultless blue expanse behind, we were faced with trial by water, having to cross, or go around, a small pond. The plucky, of which I was one, I am rather pleased to report, risked both life and limb, using an abandoned beaver lodge/dam as a rickety, woven wicker bridge to cross the plumbless depths! Unscathed, I was even more delighted as an earlier misstep had submerged my right foot, to the ankle, in the tadpole water, yet my boot let not a drop in.

Then, after one last, small hill, we were  back on Roddy Flats, further south than where we'd crossed earlier. Here, however, we were faced with quite a scene of desolation, all the surrounding trees, felled, many of their limbed trunks beside the stalagmite stumps, or bulldozed into slash piles, on either side of what looked like a small runway. Puzzled, and dismayed, of course, we wondered, at length, at the very nature of the project, (Aforementioned runway, housing development, gravel pit?), which had put such a despoiling rent into the fabric of this pastoral landscape. 

Leaving this unpleasantness behind, we continued on, the way now flat and cushioned with pine-needles, through the widely spaced trees, in the dappled sunshine. Olga Polga and St Kilian were my jovial companions and we enjoyed each other's company until Rolly Polly needed a comfort station. We continued on, leaving our friend to find relief, and were not far away when she rejoined us, no slouch that goil! I took a quick snap to record our reunion and we headed off to rejoin the rest. A  few minutes later, Absentminded Olga realized that she had fogotten her hiking poles at the gas station so she immediatley asked St Kilian to her accompany her on the rescue mission. Somewhat hurt that I had not been chosen as her protector, I harumphed my way back to the group, patiently waiting on the crest of the last hill. My distress over being replaced in Inconstant Olga's affections was soon dispelled as my supportive companions cheered, and loudly so, the fact that I was no longer the last in line, urging me up the slope to cross the finish line before the other two!

The final descent began and it was a most pleasant ending to an already intoxicating hike, down a well-defined, narrow, sandy track, a red carpet, so to speak, almost all the way, with few obstacles, a fallen tree here, a thick bush here, to the road just above where we had parked the cars. Quick thank yous and hurried goodbyes to one and all as those being chauffeured by ever generous Luigi, Chauffeur Extraordinaire, needed to be back home, without stopping for java at Good Omens. One of the easiest outings, in terms of terrain covered, duration of hike, etc., but cerainly one of the msot memorable, with repsect to the Fields of Gold we were privileged to encounter, experience and so thoroughly enjoy.  Stats for hike:

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/activity/1131931897#.VxVKu9I5jts.email

Since the GPS satellite was so lazy please add twenty minutes and a million kilometres to recorded statistics!

Dear Patrick, I have not heard from you, I must of said something wrong and you must be annoyed. Are you okay? Love Jean