July 5, 2000

I went for a hike on the grounds of the school at lunch today, into the forest and down into the creek valley that surrounds the place. I snagged the digital camera and followed the trail, seeking some nice shots. I decided to go onto the new trail the school is blazing, to see where it lead. Still very rough, I found it ended up amongst a lot of standing brackish boggy water - perfect environment for colonies of mosquitoes. I was bitten. Frequently. My sneakers turned from white to brown, and splatters of mud and bog tattooed my clothing. I thought the trail was a circle route; I was mistaken. The school plans show the trail as having a bridge over one section of standing water. It's not built yet. I had to double back through the skeeter clouds to get out. I soon discovered the valley is a lot steeper on the way up and that I'm extremely out of shape.

I just returned to work after dashing home for a quick shower and change of clothes. First inventory of mossy bites has a tally of at least 13 hits, though there may be more. I'm starting to get itchy in places I thought were untouched. Ah well; the sacrifices we make. I remind myself that these are a walk in the park (or woods, as it were) compared to the fire ant bites I received on our honeymoon three years ago.

The fruits of my labour . . .

Just before heading out on my hike, this is a mirror shot I took in the tinted glass of my office. I plan on submitting it to the Friends Of Jezebel's Mirror page, placing myself forever in immortality on my old classmate's website.

Ther she be, the trusty old '92 Dodge Shadow, affectionately known as WonderCar or The Red Rocket. Yes, that is one of those cheesy window sunshades. You'll note this is its good side, given what I mentioned earlier today about the drivers side front door.

My walk circled the schools formal gardens, where the graduation ceremonies take place. Many old boys of the school have had their wedding receptions back here, under a big top. The old building was once the estate of George Weston, a famous Canadian baker. The school moved here in 1971 and expanded the physical plant in stages to the right of this picture.

I made my way towards the trail that leads through the woods on the school grounds, passing an old abandoned cottage nestled just inside the tree line. I'd love to know the history of the old building. When I first started here, the door and windows of the cottage were still open, and one could go into the one room building. The school has since boarded them up, presumably to stop the boys from sneaking in for a quick smoke break at lunch. I'd love to see us sink some money into restoring the place.

Here's another view of the cottage from the other side, on the trail itself.

From the same spot, looking down into the creek valley. I'm a bit disappointed with this picture, as it doesn't capture the depth of the valley well.

Another view of the creek valley - a bit better perspective than the previous picture.

The trail leads out of the woods onto the grounds again, then branches off to the new trail that winds down into the valley. This picture is taken heading down that trail. What I find fascinating about this scenery is that it's not out in the country but literally smack dab in the middle of a bustling metropolis. The trees do a pretty good job of filtering out most of the city noises, so at least there's the illusion of being away.

Down on de bayou? Not quite; more like where I was served up as a skeeter smorg. There is a distinct odour about this patch of forest - that slightly off-putting standing water smell. Once this was snapped, I sprinted along the trail as best I could to make my escape, arms flailing about myself in a fruitless effort to fend off the winged bloodsuckers.

The trail started winding back and had a few open patches. The plant shown here is beautiful, but if my biology is correct is a nasty invader of North America. Purple Loosestrife is not native and has been gradually crawling across Ontario, taking over the habitat of Bullrushes and eliminating them in the process. This valley was much like that - I saw more Purple Loosestrife than Bullrushes on my litle adventure. It wasn't much further along the trail that I had to turn back, my way blocked by a huge area of standing water, chock full of mosquitoes. It was pretty to look at, but being eaten alive was too high a price to pay for the shot.

Climbed back up the hill shown above, legs knees and back aching, all the while still keeping the little bastards away as best I could. I broke from the trees and salvation was upon me - up another goodly sized hill.

"I've learned my lesson. Oy, just get me a drink of water and let me hit the showers. I'm exhausted."