Pretty much the same conditions as yesterday. Hot. Humid. Thought I was outrunning a storm, but the clouds were all bark, no bite. So far. Nevertheless, now that I know that my backpack is more than happy to invite the wet in, I wrapped everything in a white garbage bag. Clothes and shoes, primarily, but no electronic items. I have learned my lesson; I am deeply and inescapably humbled by the power of rain. Or…maybe god just wants me to have a 32G iPod Touch with voice control and 7,000 song capacity. Just like Him, really.
Similar route to Wednesday, down River Road to Rossdale, but instead of heading into McKinney, I walked up the path west of 99 St, and then through the monkey trail by the river. The trails are getting narrower as the foliage creeps in from the sides. In another week, I’ll be bushwhacking my way home with a machete. It’s a jungle out there. Heh.
…in spite of the mocking thunder clap just as I stepped outside. In spite of the darkling clouds looming above my head. In spite of the fact that I had defiantly left my rain jacket at home. It did not rain. Hallelujah. Hallelujah. However, I was sans my iPod Touch, which got damaged in the deluge on Monday. For future reference, backpacks do not wick the moisture away. In fact, they are quite permeable to the rain, but a bit stingy about letting it out. I estimate my backpack can hold about a cup of rainwater in its numerous voids, which of course, is where my iPod migrated to during my brief but spectacularly wet walk home on Monday. Also for future reference, if an iPod gets wet, do not: a) turn it on, or b) shake it madly to get the water out. Currently, it’s in a semi-vegetative state, able to play music on my dock, but unresponsive to my touch. How very deflating.
No worms here
Good news is that lovely Rossdale is now caterpillar-free. Walked through there today for the first time in a month, and didn’t spot a single air-borne worm, green or otherwise. It’s quite possible that it’s been wormless for days, or even weeks, but I was too worm-wary to test the possibility. The ash trees take the brunt of the infestation, but they do not appear to have suffered nearly as much damage as in previous years, suggesting perhaps, the experts are correct…maybe this long, dark night of the worm is over. This ten year long dark night. In any case, I’m thrilled to get the Rossdale trail back. It’s beautiful, and it’s conveniently connected to several other major trails in the river valley.
Over to McKinney, where the skies were absolutely black and poised for violence. I stopped anyway to take a few shots, including one from the dock on the north side of the river. The water is so high, another rainstorm or two and it will be completely submerged. The cool thing about standing on the dock when the river is high and fast is that it feels like the dock is moving. I’m all about the cheap thrills. After a few minutes, started to feel a bit barfy, so I returned to the mainland.
The storm stayed east for the last 40 minutes of the walk, and I stayed dry. With the exception of a few sweaty bits, of course.
I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain love I love the rain I love the rain I love the rain
As I was shuffling through a pile of newspaper clippings this morning, I ran across a review of Latitude 53’s most recent exhibit, the National Portrait Gallery. Final day, July 17th. Today. Damn! Having sketched a few faces in my time, and being a fan of good, especially humourous portraiture, I didn’t wanna miss this one. Also, the show was inspired by Edmonton’s failed (ignored) bid to locate the actual National Portrait Gallery in our city, and I’m always interested in creative ‘fuck-you’s’, regardless of the medium.
Latitude 53 is located downtown on 106th street, so it was easy to include a visit as part of my walk. Started at Skunk Hollow, over to the Kinsmen, across the LRT bridge, and then up the stairs to Ezio Faraone Park. Managed to half-run, half-walk the stairs, with only some minor heaving. Nice to see the Legislature grounds have just as many people wandering about on a Saturday as during a weekday. Passed by several ice cream stands. Why don’t I bring change with me? Another creamsicle not eaten.
The gallery was empty except for the receptionist and me. Not a surprise. It’s the last day of the show, and there are mimes in Churchill Square.
High Level Bridge feigning innocence
The first thing I saw was Trevor Anderson’s documentary Absent Friends about the High Level Bridge. I thought it was terrific! Only a few minutes long, and filmed in a kind of grainy, wintry black & white, it conveys not only the strange history of the bridge, but also it’s reputation (well-deserved) as the premiere place to commit suicide in Edmonton. Funny, West Edmonton Mall has always struck me as the epicentre of despair in our city, but apparently the bridge holds that ‘honour.’ (I too have had a few troubling thoughts on the High Level Bridge at various times in the past, but I’ve decided to wait for the Rapture.) The gravity of Anderson’s short film is so over the top in places, I had to laugh. I think this might have been his intention, but who knows? The rest of the show was pretty interesting. I especially liked the painting by Anya Tonkonogy of Rich Trefry, and the unlikely needlepoint portraits by Megan Morman. Unfortunately, the show was teeny-tiny, and it would have been great to see more work. Glad I made it though…
After my little gallery sojourn, I continued my walk through downtown, passing by the very busy 104th Street Farmer’s Market, and then over to the Churchill Square where I watched a grimy looking clown chase a runaway balloon animal. A poodle, I think. Not sure if he was officially part of the Street Performer’s Festival. I’m guessing not.
Meandered my way through the crowds to Jasper Avenue, entering Louise McKinney Park a few blocks east of the Shaw Centre. As far as summer days are concerned, today was outstanding. A bit windy, but just windy enough to allow my skin to glow, rather than sweat. I was expecting another droughty summer, with crispy grass and a plague of grasshoppers, but the river valley is juicy with life, and a deep, deep emerald green. I guess I can stand a few more bad-hair days for the sake of some moisture in the soil. It’s the least I can do.
The unusual thing about today’s walk, other than I stayed dry for the entire length of it, was the sound of the creek. I could hear the rushing water from all points along the trail system, including the upper paths which are relatively far removed from the creek. One of the bridges I use most frequently stretches over a part of the creek which at this time of year, is normally just a dirty snail of water. Today it was a torrent, and the really cool thing is that under all the bridges, the grass along the banks was wet and flattened, meaning the water was even higher yesterday. If it hadn’t poured on my way home on Wednesday, I would have taken the longer route into Mill Creek and witnessed this myself.
waterlogged
The weather has dictated the length of my walks these last few days, but not today. Had a couple of appointments, and rather than go back and forth to work, I opted for a day off. Good choice, because I had nothing but sunshine. The ravine was quite humid and the paths still wet and even impassable in some places, but thanks to the little off-ramps along the way, I managed to stay relatively mud-free. And swear-free.
And now, an hour since I got back from my lovely and warm walk, and about a half hour until I would normally leave work and begin my walk, and I see that the sky has clouded over and there is a severe thunderstorm warning. HA! I say…HA! HA!
