Reflections On A Fijian Mud Bath
As many of my friends and family are well aware, and tired of hearing about. Erin and I took a trip to both Fiji and New Zealand in 2011 and I am still telling stories about it. Occasionally in the wee hours of the morning, when night shift has a firm pull on my eyelids, my gaze finds its way to my computer screen saver, and I am reminded why I subject my body and my sanity to this job. One word: Adventure.
Erin and I, in our ramblings across Fiji, found ourselves at a small hostel in a town who’s name I cannot remember. In fact I remember very few details about the hostel we were at, but here they are:
1. There were a lot of cats and dogs, especially cats that had suffered some form of trauma, I vividly remember at least one cat with only three legs. I remember one of the workers there telling me he had rescued several of the dogs from kids who kidnap stray dogs in the city and sell them to rural villages to use as bait for boars. One can only imagine the story behind the cats.
2. I was amazed by the pool table, the balls were about half the size of the ones I was used to. Using it was a bit of a pain because it required Australian quarters which were sold (or possibly given, I dont fully recall) to us by the front desk. When travelling I am always interested in the different types of electrical outlets, light switches, placement and organization of bathroom fixtures, and other small details of daily life… look I rarely claim to be an interesting guy.
3. They had a room filled with dozens of bikes for rent.
One of the few days we had spent there, we had heard from the staff that there was a hot spring and mud spa a few miles down the road. Being on vacation and having nothing else occupying our time, we decided to go check it out. We rented the bikes for a very minimal fee, somewhere in the neighborhood of $5 Fijian per bike for the day, I’m not sure the conversion rates to Canadian or US dollars but trust me that’s not much.
Erin and Our Trusty Steeds
The bikes were nothing special, which was clearly reflected in the price and honestly I often find myself drawn to old banged up modes of transportation anyway (as my car ownership history will show). We grabbed our bikes and headed down the typical rough and potholed Fijian road. After a short, and very pleasant, ride we found our destination. It was a small fenced in area that to my rural Albertan eyes looked an awful lot like two dugouts and an old barnyard shed. All at once, in that moment, looking at what was in front of me. I felt I was home, on a warm summer day, looking out at an old farmyard that time seemed to have forgotten. I had spent so much of my youth rummaging through and admiring the old books and rusted tools, all the while hoping to find something that resembled treasure…but I’m getting off topic now.
We paid our $2 each and wandered into the structurally questionable shed to get changed. I was glad to see they partitioned off separate sides for guys and girls but I was a little concerned that you could see daylight between, literally, every plank on the sides. As I was changing out of my shorts and into my… swimming shorts, three Japanese men struck up a conversation with me. Well it was more of them talking at me and asking some questions.
“you’re so tall!”
“uhh thanks”
“wow you have green eyes! what color are your mothers?”
“umm blue?… I think”
“and your fathers?”
“kind of grey… maybe”
“Whats your name?”
“Tyson”
“ooooo big strong american name! Twyason! Like the boxer!”
“Well I’m Canadian, but, yeah I guess”
“What about your girlfriend? how tall is she?”
I raised my hand to just above my eye level.
“oooOOOOoooo. And what colour are her eyes?”
“Green”
“oooooo”
“well I’m done changing so I’m going to head out, you guys have a good day”
A lot of big smiles and hand shakes etc. Erin had overheard a bit of the conversation through the “walls”, and thought it was hysterical but she was kind enough to not laugh about the adorable grown men until later in the day.
We then were escorted to the first station at the “spa”, a mud bath, again… essentially a muddy hole in the grass about the size of a good swimming pool. The hole was about five feet deep with about three feet of muddy water in it with a very muddy bottom. We climbed in, and so did the person working there, he dunked a bucket in and scraped a pile of muck off the bottom and told us to rub it on ourselves. It seemed kinda hokey to me, but what ever, I rubbed some on my arms etc and so did Erin, of course our guide tried to help Erin rub some mud on her arms and other places but she was quick to politely refuse his help. I then realized that this is probably a sweet job for that guy, helping (mostly female) tourists in bathing suits coat themselves in mud. We then, via the assistance of our guide and a nearby tree root, made the difficult and slippery climb out of the mud hole. The guide then showed us the outdoor shower where we could rinse the mud off before climbing into the hot spring hole. He offered to snap some pictures of us covered in mud. We got some funny shots of us with mud mustaches and other funny face “paint”, showered off and then headed into the hot spring.
That’s The “Mud Bath” Behind Us
I Mustache You Not To Draw On My Face.
From the showers we walked across the grounds to a smaller slightly cleaner pool fed by a little spring. We swam around a bit and tried to wash the last bits of mud off, I didn’t really feel clean until I was back at the hostel and able to have a more thorough shower, but that’s besides the point.
At Least This One Had A Set Of Steps
After what felt like the necessary lengths of time, we pulled ourselves out of the pool, dried off and got changed. We biked back to the hostel, I honestly preferred the bike ride over the mud baths. It was a long time ago now so I dont fully recall what happened to the rest of the day but its a pretty safe guess that we showered off, played some miniature pool and petted a bunch of formerly stray dogs…. but that’s just an educated guess based on my personality and our circumstances.
When looking at old pictures of my various adventures I often like to ask myself “what would I have done then, if I was the person I am now?” Try it sometime, it can illicit all kinds of emotions. In this instance what stands out to me are the bikes and just how much fun I had on them that day, and how much I enjoy cycling now. It makes me think that I may have missed a golden opportunity for us to buy a couple of cheap bikes and pedal our way around that little island. Maybe someday I’ll get another chance to, or maybe I’ll someday find myself on another small island nation and have the ambition to see how far my legs can take me. Worst case I can still tell myself that I did technically go biking in Fiji.
Posted in Mountain Biking, Travelwith no comments yet.
Canada Day Tradition
I firmly believe that every family should have one weekend a year where they all get together. My family has the Vermillion fair, and Erin’s has Canada day. I think its a great idea because then every year you know, all year, that you need that same weekend off, and you know not to make plans. I also think its important to see your family more often than Christmas.
As per the family tradition, the plan was for all of us to meet up at Lesser Slave Lake for some camping over Canada day weekend. Friday after Erin was done work, we packed the gear into the truck. I was amazed at how fast it had started raining and how hard it was raining all through this process. Needless to say I was starting to get a little grumpy, but we loaded up and headed out anyway. It was about a four hour drive, Erin somehow managed to do homework for most of that time, while I drove and watched for wildlife, we saw a cow moose and her calf.
We arrived at the campsite a few hours before sundown, up north sunset is about 11:30pm that time of year. The family rents 3 large cabins that are all attached together and share some wonderful lakefront real estate. From there a few family members stay in campers on the lot, Erin and I sported a lovely little tent we set up in an area with an excellent view. It still amazes me how easy it is to set up a modern tent, I remember when I was a kid my parents had those old tents in the garage which were essentially a mess of random poles and musty fabrics. After setting up the tent, we plopped ourselves down beside the fire for a spell and then retired to our fresh air, nylon chateau complete with a queen size air mattress.
The next morning I over slept, but that’s what camping is for. Shortly after I got up, someone came up with the plan for pretty much everyone, under the age of 30, to bike to town… for no particular reason. We had a real convoy of roughly 10 people from about age 8 to about age 25, on all type, age, and condition of bike. It must have been quite the sight, especially since, the one leading us most of the way was the youngest. While in town we stopped at a fast food joint and I bought everyone ice cream, I figured I could use the brownie points.
Upon arriving back at our campsite, we found that Erin’s parents had arrived, they intended to come the night before but were held up by the poor weather, as they were hauling a trailer and carrying a boat. They got set up and we got the boat in the water. I noticed that the strong winds coming off the lake were attempting to borrow my tent. I moved it to a slightly more sheltered area and actually pegged it down this time. Instead of lifting up and curling, it was folding in… well at least it wasn’t going anywhere.
I’m Impressed That It Survived The Wind
It was then decided that, despite the wind, Erin, her dad, and I should all go fishing. We grabbed our gear and loaded up the boat. At the last minute, Erin, in a moment of pure selflessness, gave up her spot in the boat to her young cousin who was itchin’ for some fishin’. Erin’s dad was happy to accommodate him. We loaded up and headed for the small island, named Dog Island, at the far side of the bay to look for walleye. We got out there, slapped on some hooks, did some trolling, and ate some chips. Erin’s cousin caught the first fish, a nice walleye, just barely big enough to keep. We decided to throw it back, since it was the first catch and surely we’d catch bigger (often famous last words). Erin’s dad was the next to catch a fish, a smallish pike, then he caught a small walleye. I managed to wrangle in a ok sized walleye and we decided to keep this one, for safety’s sake. Then it was Erin’s dad on again, then the young cousin… those two were out fishing me six ways from Sunday, but I was the only one with a keeper in the boat. Erin’s young cousin had something special take his line. After a spirited battle, he had at the edge of the boat a very nice walleye, certainly the biggest I would see all weekend. I reached over the side and grabbed the line to haul it in, with a great thrash from the fish, it, in one motion, both snapped the line and cut my finger, and just like that he was gone. Everyone was a little sad and I certainly felt some guilt over the loss, but at the end of the day at least we know there’s still at least one big fish in that lake. It was getting to be about supper time, so we headed back to shore. Another of Erin’s young cousins and her friend were mesmerized, and a little afraid of the fish. We could hear them giggling and screaming from where we left it hanging while we stowed away our fishing gear and rounded up filleting gear… ok so just a filleting knife and beer, but that still counts as “gear” if you ask me. I watched with fascination as the fish was cleaned with a level of skill that is only granted with time and experience. It was thrown in the refrigerator for later. We helped ourselves to some dinner, then we all sat around the campfire enjoying each others company until every person had reached their own idea of what the wee hours of the morning means. There had originally been fireworks planned for that evening but we were informed they were to be delayed due to wind, and I could understand why.
The next day, Sunday, I overslept yet again, and nobody seemed to mind, maybe I’ll make that my tradition. It was far too windy for any kind of fishing that day, so some people opted to relax, others opted to go golfing. The rest of us went to a nearby hike. The hike was pleasant enough, though I could have lived without the mosquitoes. I was surprised to find that at the end of the hike there was a little lake that someone had somehow gotten a small rowboat into. Then there was what felt like a frenzy of photographs, and some cookies handed out… I thoroughly enjoyed the latter of the two. We then hiked out and headed back to camp. In the evening it rained quite hard which lead to two things. The first was a lot of me hurrying and panicking inside our cheap tent trying to get everything away from the edges to prevent any more water from coming in. The second thing the rain had instigated what was a rather sizable cribbage tournament, I had played before, but it was a long time ago. Erin and I played as a team and I feel that despite a lot of losses we played well and were close each time. The rain finally quit, and the cribbage tournament was over, and somehow the music got loud and everyone started dancing. I left at the first opportunity, on account of my two left feet, and found myself as part of a growing crowd by the fire. That day also ended just the way I like it, relaxing by the fire in good company.
On Monday, it was again windy but we opted to go fishing anyway, this time It was Erin, her dad, and myself in his boat, and then as many people as they could fit in her uncles boat. Somewhere in the neighborhood of 6 people, but I dont ever recall doing an official head count. The plan was for us all to catch some fish and have a great big fish fry for dinner. We battled some sizable waves to get to the island, but once there Erin and her dad started catching like it was going out of style. I, as any fisherman who isn’t catching tends to do, tested nearly every hook in my tackle box. In the end Erin had offered me a duplicate of the hook she was having such success with, reluctantly I accepted… and wouldn’t you know it, I caught a fish first cast. It always hurts to borrow a hook from someone because yours don’t work, but I’m pretty sure I bought that hook for her, so that makes me feel a little better.
I Feel No Shame In Being Out-Fished By The Walleye King Or His Daughter
After we hit our limits, we did a bit of “bonus fishing” beyond the wind block of the island, we did some of our best catching while drifting and rolling over the giant waves that only strong wind across a very big lake can create. Eventually we realized it was getting late in the day and headed in to meet up with the other boat and assess the results of our makeshift fishing derby.
Our Combined Total
If memory recalls, we had six walleye and one pike (not pictured). It was now up to Erin’s dad to fillet them, I think that’s worked its way into tradition over the years. I asked if I could help, since I really wanted to learn how to fillet fish, not surprisingly he agreed to let me assist him. We rounded up our knives and headed to the fish cleaning shack. He re-showed me the basics on the first fish, then we proceeded to start filleting. In a fury of swinging knives and flying fish parts we had made short work of our bounty, I worked as fast as I could but was only cleaning about one fish to his three… but I guess that’s the kind of speed experience affords you.
The Chandelier Really Makes The Cleaning Shack Looks Fancy
Doing My Best
We cleaned all the walleye, while each strategically avoiding the pike that neither of us had a clue how to fillet, until finally he caved and did his best to clean it. We returned to the cabins as heroes hearing many a “thanks for cleaning those” “wow, that was fast!” and “I cant believe how much fish that is”.
Shortly after our return everyone got to work filling the deep fryer with oil, making beer batter and preparing salads. This was going to be the kind of feast that wont soon be forgotten. I opted to stay out of the way and watch the deep frying process at work, while chatting with the expert cooks. The fish disappeared onto the plates of bystanders just as fast as it came out of the fryer, after almost everyone had dished up I was excited to grab my share… and then another share… followed by another… then a few more nibbles. What can I say? It was delicious and there was a lot of it. To my surprise I only found a single bone, and I know it was from that pike! I also inquired around and only about three other people admitted to finding a bone, not bad for my first time cleaning fish. After some sitting and digesting it had become rather late and it was now time for the Canada Day fireworks display put on by the campgrounds. We all wandered down to the beach to watch. Just before the fireworks started another family tradition took place… a very loud group rendition of our national anthem, which was met with a lot of cheering and applause all down the beach, and one gentleman replied with part of the tune from “Hockey Night In Canada” and of course we all applauded that guy. The fireworks display was impressive, bright, and very loud. Sunday ended much like Saturday, pleasant conversation around the campfire until one-by-one everyone found their way to sleep.
The next day everyone was up a little bit early, we needed to be out by 10. Erin and I packed up our gear and took down our tent, but left it out for a bit so it could dry. We then headed into the cabins where everyone was showing a great display of teamwork in cleaning all the cabins from top to bottom… especially bottom since the rain and sand had led to a lot of grit being left on the floors. Everybody got stowed away, acquiring help when needed and offering it when available. In what seemed like no time flat we were stowed away and pulling on to the highway leaving the weekend in our mirrors. All that was left now was to make the long drive home, unpack our vehicles, and to start looking forward to next year.
Posted in Fishingwith 2 comments.
Saturday Night Lake Loop
A few weeks ago I was fishing for walleye off of my dad’s dock. It was getting late in the evening and I was curious to try out fishing in the dark, I had heard that due to a walleye’s excellent vision they are more of a night predator. I did catch a decent walleye on a bright white rubber fish, but I feel I must test this theory further. The entire time I was absolutely swarmed by mosquitoes… as can be expected at that time of day. It got me thinking of possibly my worst experience with mosquitoes and quite possibly my worst experience in hiking. It was back in 2012 when Erin and I decided to try back country camping, we bought a tent and two small mummy style bags, and headed to Jasper. My brother drove us there as he had a fancy new truck and felt like seeing the sights, he opted not to join us on our hike… in hind sight that was a smart move.
We departed from Edmonton early in the morning with all of our gear and headed directly to the tourist information office in Jasper, that’s usually a good first stop. Erin and I asked about hiking trails and overnight camping while Kyle inquired about the local sights. After much deliberation it was decided that Erin and I would set off that day to do the “Saturday Night Lake Loop” which is considered one of the easiest overnight hikes in the park (I recently found out it also doubles as a mountain bike trail, though I haven’t been back since this trip). While we would hike and camp, Kyle decided he didn’t feel like camping alone, so we suggested the local hostel. I’ve been a fan of hostels since my New Zealand trip, they just sort of force you to interact with people who are generally in a good mood from traveling and sight seeing. We drove to the hostel and took a short tour, my well dressed clean cut brother, in a brand new truck didn’t exactly fit in and I honestly think that played a role in his decision not to stay there. We offered to help him find other lodging but he said he would be fine and dropped us off at the trail head. We planned to call him the next day, toward the end of our hike, so he knew when to pick us up.
We began our hike full of ambition, excitement, wonder, and I was also a bit nervous. We found ourselves on what I think was an old logging road along side a sizable lake.
Our View From The Trail
Toward the end of the well traveled gravel road, just before it turned into a trail we saw an adorable black bear. I was quick to whip out the bear spray (Quick PSA! Always carry bear spray!). Lucky for us, the bear, and my nerves, the bear kept its distance, looked at us, and with little thought or concern walked away and carried on with its life, I like to think it lived happily ever after.
Last Time I Was This Close To A Bear I Got A New Rug, But That’s A Different Story
As the trail went on, I started to realize a few things: we were hiking in a valley, it was spring time, and it was an especially wet spring. The mosquitoes were starting to get more and more frequent. After much casual chatting, swatting, repellent spraying, and scenery enjoyment we side tracked off of the trail up a few switch backs to our campsite.
Made It!
We set up camp in our stall as fast as we could, since the mosquitoes were even worse there. We then went out into the more open dining area, which had fewer of the blood thirsty insects, and began prepping dinner. On the menu we had canned stew heated to perfection on a mini camp stove, with a side of soda crackers. There was one other couple camping there, we exchanged greetings, but other than that they weren’t too chatty.
Mom Always Said It Was Important To Be Able To Cook
After dinner I washed the dishes in a clear mountain stream, which I think is pretty awesome, to me it always feels like a throwback to the pioneer days when I do stuff like that. We then walked and looked out at the small lake. It was pretty, but the shoreline was muddy and the mosquitoes made it hard to stick around.
What I Assume Is Saturday Night Lake
Then we went to bed and attempted to sleep. We had purchased two mummy style bags which could be zipped together, what we had never been told is that while they’re zipped together, if one person moves it creates a vacuum that pulls cold air in between the two people. Calling me a fidgety sleeper is a bit of an understatement. Calling me an unpopular tent partner that night is also an understatement. At this point in our hiking careers we had yet to buy any form of sleep mats, so there we were, cold and uncomfortable on the hard ground.
After dropping Erin and I off at the trail head, Kyle, in a rather James Bond kind of way, walked into one of the higher end hotels Jasper had to offer. He asked the going last minute rate of an empty room then offered them that for the suite and it worked. He hauled his things in, went to a pub for dinner and to watch some TV. He then retired to his suite and soaked in the Jacuzzi tub, he would later remark that his only complaint was that the tub was almost “too hot.” I however think he may have just said that to bug me.
The next morning came and I awoke to a loud hum that resembled electricity travelling through wires. It didn’t take me long to realize it was a swarm of mosquitoes, I was concerned they intended to haul us away, tent and all. We packed up as much as we could inside the tent and got dressed lying down, for fear of exposing ourselves to mosquitoes… and fellow campers. Erin went off to make us some oatmeal for breakfast, and I tore down the tent as fast as I could. We enjoyed breakfast and I decided to use the toiled before we headed off. This would prove to be an unfortunate time to need a washroom. As I approached the toiled the mosquitoes got more frequent and the hum got louder. I saw the toiled and remembered the lady at the tourist center trying to explain to me that they dont have outhouses or porta-pottys they have “green thrones” which well, looks like a throne. Imagine a three or four steps leading up a to a platform with a toiled seat on top. The toiled seat was somewhat enclosed in a semi circle that only ran about half way up my back. It was about as open air as you could get while still technically using a toilet. It was the perfect place for mosquitoes to ambush me… and did they ever. Lets just say I had bites in the tender areas and was really starting to not enjoy the hike.
We set off and the mosquitoes were unbearable, hands down the worst I have ever seen. They were so bad they effected visibility. We walked along beautiful log bridges and passed amazing waterfalls, at top speed to avoid those darn bugs.
One Of The Few Photos That Day
We only stopped at the tops of hills where we could feel a breeze and only for long enough to catch our breath and re apply as much mosquito spray as possible. I remember my shoe coming untied at the bottom of a hill right beside a nice infested swamp, I stopped went down and inhaled no less than four mosquitoes. I was also introduced to the pleasures of a mosquito bite on the edge of my lip, kinda like a bite on the knuckle but worse. We kept walking and swatting and my patience was running low. Finally and embarrassingly… I cracked. I had what Erin and I call a “temper mantrum” I remember throwing off my pack to grab some water and going on a rant along the lines of “THIS BACKPACKING IS HORRIBLE, YOU CAN JUST KEEP THIS TENT AND USE IT WITH YOUR FRIENDS OR WHATEVER, BUT I’M JUST NOT INTERESTED IN DOING IT AGAIN” Erin now finds it funny but at the time I think she was about ready to crack too. I put my pack back on and we continued.
We eventually found our way to higher and windier ground which caused the mosquitoes to disperse and suddenly the trail became much more pleasant. We rounded a corner and in the distance I saw something tan in colour jump into the woods. From where I was standing it appeared high in a tree, I panicked as my mind immediate thought “Cougar!” I grabbed the bear spray and pondered just how good my reflexes actually were. As we walked closer I felt very silly, the trail went up a steep hill and what I had actually seen was a beautiful bull elk jumping from the trail up a small berm. I kept the bear spray out and decided to see how close I could get. I got to withing about 40 yards and snapped some pictures before it eventually got annoyed with me and left.
A Good Size, Especially For So Early In The Year
We were getting near the end of the trail so I pulled out my phone to call Kyle, only to discover that the battery was dead. I must have bumped the power button and turned it on in my pack. Luckily for me, Erin’s phone still worked and I had submitted Kyle’s number to memory. No answer, I tried a few more times, with no luck. We eventually walked out into the parking lot to see Kyle there, he was simply amazed at his timing.
He explained that his phone had met with his temper when it was failing to work. I saw the “smart” phone in the back of his truck and it appeared to be folded in half (he seems to go through a lot of phones). So he ended up calling my phone from a pay phone, which ended up not working since my phone was dead, maybe this phone trouble is a family thing. In the end he just guessed what time we would be there and as luck would have it, he only waited about ten minutes for us to show up.
It was undoubtedly the worst hike I’ve ever been on, based slightly on the poor sleeping conditions and overwhelmingly on the mosquito infestation. I now really enjoy back country camping, and I would even do the Saturday Night Lake Loop again… if it was during a drought.
Posted in Hikingwith no comments yet.