Stand Sure

I've been thinking for some time of getting a tatoo, but I've never found anything that felt right. At one point I decided that I wanted to get one of those little plastic spinner things that goes in the middle of a 45 rpm record...you know the things. But then like 3 different snowboard companies and 2 record labels and maybe even a cat food manufacturer adopted that symbol as their logo, so that kind of ruined it for me. Anyway, when my Grandmother passed away last year, I received some of her old jewelry, among which I found a silver pendant in the shape of the Anderson Clan crest. Most Scottish clans have a crest of similar design - usually a wide belt around the outside, with a representative image in the centre and some kind of saying around the perimeter. The Anderson crest features an oak tree and the motto, "Stand Sure." Some of the crests are slightly oblique, if you ask me. For example, the McNabb crest features a black cat and the saying "Touch Not the Cat." Okay...won't touch the cat, you McNabbs. Anyway, the moment I saw the pendant, I knew I had found my tat. I booked an appointment the next day.

I'm not sure how to explain it, but getting this tatoo has been one of the best things I've ever done for myself. Not only was it an opportunity to confront my wariness (okay, fear) of pain, but it was an extremely visceral (not quite the right word, but you know what I mean) expression of my new way of doing life. Not least, it is a tribute to my grandmother and the life she led and the commendations that she'd received in her life for bravery during the war and during a particularly harrowing trans-Altantic boat voyage.

Speaking of harrowing, the above photo was taken at the summit of Crowsnest Mountain in September 2006. You can't tell from the photo, but I had just survived the near-death experience alluded to in earlier posts. In a nutshell, what happened was: I was crossing a small bowl in the upper reaches of the climb, when I heard my Dad call out from behind, "Rocks!" I looked up to see a shower of rocks tumbling down directly on top of me - some as large as a lunch box. There was no way I could escape, so I just covered my head (I had taken my helmet off under the assumption that we had passed the rockfall danger) and waited for something to hit me...but the expected hit never came! I could hear the rocks crashing all around me, but nothing touched me. I consider this no small miracle. Anyway, when I realized that the rockfall was done, I just got myself the hell out of there. Finally out of harm's way, I simply froze up, unable to go forward or backward. Bev, the most experienced of our party, gently but firmly reminded me that there was tricky climbing both ahead and behind, so I might as well get going. I knew she was right, so after a little while I was able to slowly start moving forward. Crowsnest is not a particularly difficult mountain to climb, but my arrival at the summit on that day was a personal victory on no small scale, and a re-affirmation of an inner strength that I had ignored for some time. It was my first real chance to stand sure.

4X4ing is fun

So...this fall I experienced a redneck rite of passage...a weekend of 4X4ing in the foothills of the Canadian Rockies. It was fricking great. As some of my dear readers know, I own a Toyota Land Cruiser Prado that I imported from Japan last fall. Up until this, my first weekend of off-roading, it was what is commonly referred to as a "Pavement Princess." Well, no more...we've got the dents, bends, and scratches that prove we experienced our first wilderness hazing and lived to tell the tale.

Here's a quick rundown of the weekend: Friday night, left straight from work, drove to the "Chewed Bridge Ranch" up west of Sundre, Alberta. Arrived in the dark, settled in for a good night's sleep in the back of the truck. Next morning, up at dawn. Plenty of activity about. Pancakes are served, preparations made. Wayne Smith, the trail boss for the day, looks over my semi-bald street tires and deems them useless. I spend a few minutes swapping on an even balder set of 31" tires, which may seem senseless, except that these tires were equipped with chains on the rear. Sweet.

The morning run is decided upon - a 1 hour jaunt along a short loop - maybe 12 km total. Around camp, engines fire up and a string of 14 Land Cruisers of all descriptions heads to the trailhead. Somehow, I find myself second in line. No probs, it's supposed to be an easy day. Hmmm...well, without going into too much detail, the 1 hour run turned into closer to 6 hours, with a whole bunch of stucks and mechanical problems along the way. It was a blast. I had no idea that my little 'Cruiser would be so capable off road. We crossed streams; we descended hills that I would never have dreamed possible; we ascended hills that were tricky to walk up...we pulled each other out of mud puddles; we crossed bridges designed for quads...we had a lot of fun. Here are some pics...

Above: the first stuck cruiser of the day. They winched themselves out. Thanks to the chains on my rear tires, I was able to power through this mud-filled ditch.

Here's a fellow named Roy crossing a quad bridge in his BJ60. His tires are hanging about 4" over either side of the bridge. This is where you want a trustworthy spotter to guide you across, because you can't watch both sides at once!

Wayne drives a 1990 PZJ70 (5-cylinder diesel) with 36" tractor tires. He overheated his engine pulling people out of the mud and up some hills. The tow strap got a lot of use out there!

I don't want this post to get too long, so I won't get into some of the specific stories. Suffice it to that that I came away from the weekend with a bunch of new friends and a new respect for the ability of these amazing vehicles. The next run is May Long Weekend 2007...anyone care to come along?