He's been there before. Not only to the watershed to do some backpacking and alpine camping, but also to that particular spot he chose this week to spend four days, three nights at. There's an alpine pond nearby his camping spot and a large flat rock that he adopted as his 'kitchen'. It's summer and he's done a lot of river and ocean kayaking and thought he'd do some backpacking for a change. Left on Tuesday, returned on Friday. Good weather. No rain, sunny and hot down below, cool in the mountains and definitely cool at night.

It's called Desolation Point, located in the Marriott Basin, and he has experienced first-hand why it might have earned that name. The first night sleep was constantly interrupted by the sound of falling rocks from the heights to the valley below. At a distance, but sound reverberates, it's sharp and loud. The second night it was the howling wind screeching across the mountain and flirting with his tent that constantly woke him. Although it's August there's plenty of snow left up there, old cornices, some of them with pink moss running through the ice.

He did quite a few day trips during the day in the morning and afternoon hours, enjoying the clear, dry weather and the sun, much cooler at that altitude and cooled off further by the incessant wind. For the third night he decided to move camp and found a much quieter spot a few kilometers away from his original camping spot but at a lower elevation. And there, he slept long, deep and soundly; no ambient disturbances to wake him.

As for us, nothing quite so arduous as a three-thousand foot climb. (Which took him to 7,000-ft. above sea level.) We just negotiate the modest forested hills and valleys of the ravine located up the street from our house. And today brought us yet another cooler but bright and dry day to enjoy. And enjoy it we did. There's more humid hotter weather in the offing for the remainder of the week, so we appreciated today's break that much more. So we sallied out, up the street and toward the entrance to the ravine. Where we cannot simply pass by all the ripening berries without capturing a few for our fruit-loving companions.

Because it was house-cleaning day we left later than usual before we were finally finished. We had missed last week's cleaning because we had company when our son and daughter-in-law stayed with us for a week and we had much more interesting and important things to do than clean the house other than minimally. So this was catch-up. I had an extra bathroom floor to wash apart from the usual. Jackie and Jillie were helpfully patient.

Because it was so late, I offered them an early vegetable salad since by the time we'd return home it would be too close to their dinnertime. They accepted with grace and an appreciative appetite. While I was at it, I put together a potato salad for us. New yellow potatoes, chopped green onions, yellow bell pepper, snap peas, salt, pepper, mayonnaise. Two stuffed eggs for Irving. And canned salmon plopped in the middle of the salad bowl, sliced cocktail tomatoes arranged on top. And let the flavours meld in the refrigerator.

In the ravine, ambling the forest trails we came across old friends we hadn't seen in a while. Two sisters, both in dental practise, one of whom bought a property in Mexico, retired and now spends most of her time there with her husband. Grumbling about the entry rules to Canada under COVID, hugely appreciative that in Mexico there is no pressure for tests, for vaccines, for distancing, for anything. The other, who lives on our street, expounded on the benefits of taking massive units of Vitamin D3 to conquer COVID.

We completed our ramble by going through the meadow. It's always so soothing and calming, the sweet smell of ragweed, the sight of goldenrod, loosestrife blowing in the wind, the bright colours of the wildflowers, the activity of bees, cabbage butterflies, hoverflies, wasps all busy with their nature-assigned tasks. Familiar and pleasurable. We walk home bathed in peace and serenity.

 

Last Friday, two people are known to have drowned in the Ottawa River, accessible where it runs through the city; one a 14-year-old boy who with friends, had accessed a fenced-off bridge -- with signage warning 'entry prohibited' no longer in use -- to leap into the river at 9:30. The boy failed to surface. His body has still not been recovered. It seems that such dreadful misadventures have their inevitable seasons. In winter, it's snowmobiles sinking through too-thin ice over lakes and rivers, and people drowning. In summer, it's ill-considered summer play that often goes awry.

The municipality of this capital city has finally announced the passing of a new bylaw respecting the novel coronavirus. A city of a million people, in its greater-Ottawa environment, there have been fewer than 50 active case of COVID-19. We've been in lockdown since mid-March, and for the past several weeks, bars and restaurants, and other retail businesses have been slowly re-opening for outdoor service.

Essential services represented by pharmacies and supermarkets have remained open throughout the lockdown. Dental services, hairdressers and barbers, veterinarian services have all re-opened but slowly and carefully; one is required to make appointments ahead of time, and few clients are taken at a time, all expected to be masked. We've been masking when we do our grocery shopping or enter the premises of other shops, though we haven't had the occasion to do much of that.

We have never seen the need to mask when we've been outdoors, but we do see the need to remain physically distanced from others and practise that fairly rigorously. One of our neighbours who tends to be a recluse at the best of times and behaves like a sociopath at the worst of times, can be seen on rare occasions outside, mowing his lawn, and wearing a mask, though no one ever approaches him because he has made it abundantly clear on any number of occasions that he has complete disinterest in speaking with anyone.

Curiously enough his wife is an extrovert, with a smile that could light up a dark chamber and we suspect a metaphorical dark chamber is what she inhabits, having informed us years ago that her husband will not 'allow' her to do any number of things.

We've been having far more overheated, humid and sunny 30+C days than is normal for an average summer. Most summers, we have roughly five days heating up to 30C, we've vastly exceeded that number and will continue to, throughout the remaining summer months, as we've been forewarned by Environment Canada.

In the ravine, raspberries are ripening nicely now. They're wild, and so they're small in size, but packed with juicy sweetness. This morning as we entered the ravine to launch ourselves into an hour or so of sauntering through the forest trails, there were already berries ripe for the picking. Jackie and Jillie recall from previous years in their young lives what it means when they see my husband rummaging about in the glossy green foliage; it's treat time.

They zipped right over to him, in excited anticipation of treats, and they weren't disappointed. From now until mid-fall there will always be some kind of wild fruit ready to be plucked and shared with our puppies, making our daily ravine hikes through the forest double treats. What they will never be given, however, is one type of berry that rates as poisonous, which is now also ripening; red baneberry with its colourful, bright-red sprays of berries.