Logistics are not my thing!

I am going for one week to Cuba in a bike training camp this Sunday. I have been to Cuba dozens of times before but because I have to bring my bike, this trip has been a logistical headache.

The initial problem arose with finding a bike box for my bike. Thankfully Kunstadts came to the rescue with a hard sided box. After much deliberation, I decided to take my heavier steel bike with the triple cranks. The shoes are more comfortable and I can get a lot of power out of it. It is not a formal race but training.

The next headache was transporting myself and the bike. I was pretty sure the bike and my luggage, which I have pared down to the bare essentials, would not fit in my car, and I was correct. The box is huge and takes a truck or a large van without seats. Taxi service to the rescue!

The flight leaves from Montreal. Greyhound to the rescue! Greyhound will take me to the airport...which is great, no driving, no parking, no headaches.

In Cuba we will stay at one resort. The training is pretty intense so I am not sure how much down time I will have but I have packed my snorkeling gear in case. There are snorkeling kits available at the resort, but to me, using someone elses mask and snorkel would be akin to borrowing their toothbrush. No thanks!

When the training is over, I will leave my luggage at the airport (Greyhound station) and stay at a B and B in Montreal, have brunch with my niece, come back, board the bus and go home. I will sleep for a few days!

BUT...how to get that large box back to Kunstandts. There is the rub. Perhaps they will stay open just long enough for me to call a taxi to take me there and drop it off.

In days of old, they had sherpas to carry all their goods. The bike box included. Or large trucks, donkeys or something. Today, with a very small car and a circle of friends who also have tiny cars, transporting is not the easiest matter.

The training, some 130 km a day up hills at speed, will be the easy part. The tough part is getting it all there in one piece without breaking the bank!

Who says older= wiser, lessons from trip preparations

When I was a child, taking a trip to the beach was so easy. I would throw a towel in a bag put on my bathing suit and go with my parents to one of the many lovely beaches in Prince Edward County. I was unencumbered and gloriously free to enjoy the day! I did not worry how far I could swim or what colour my bathing suit was. I did not worry if I had sandals or enough "out of water snacks", I enjoyed my time on the sand dunes making castles and using sticks for flags or even better using bird feathers. I enjoyed battling the waves and riding on my heavy blue and red air mattress like a wobbly surfboard as I waved to my mother and father.

Today I am preparing for a one week long cycling race camp in Cuba. The things that are mandatory for this tour are my bike, spare inner tubes, water bottles and in ride snacks. I have been preparing for this ride for 2 months on my bike trainer and doing intensive yoga, I have lost weight and am fitter than ever but the problem is with packing. I may as well be preparing for a mountain climbing trip to Everest given the amount of preparation.

I have a different cycling kit for each day, all packed in freezer bags with the air pumped out. I have my sunglasses, my repair kit (recommended) and a first aid kit (also recommended but I brought an expedition size),I have packed three pair of shorts, five T shirts and plenty of items to give away including a clarinet and a box of toothpaste from my dentist. To cut down on weight I have packed my electronic reader rather than books. I also packed my snorkeling gear, a thin jacket and three baseball hats, two of which are giveaways. When you add my cycling shoes, helmet and the 'in ride snacks and protein powders' I now have two bags and one is heavy.

This is a mystery to me. My bike clothes are all made of lycra. To understand this I have produced a diary

Two Weeks before trip
Day One: Get large bag out of basement, open bag and look for flippers and snorkelling gear

Day Two :Repair snorkel, test and pack

Day Three: Find 7 cycling kits with matching socks, pack each individually
Find summer shorts and sandals, pack along with T shirts and cycling jacket

Day Three PM: Change mind about cycling kits, repack and change mind about cycling jacket. Repack

Day Four:
Pack repair kit and put in ride snacks in individual packets...pack

Day Four pm
Decide that first aid kit needs to be packed and repack ride snacks adding gels

Day five am
Change mind about bike. Decide to take the touring bike, advise bike shop, pack correct shoes
Decide to take bus to Montreal

Day Five pm: decide a sweater is a good idea, pack a sweater. Decide I need to expand the items I will give away and so include a clarinet, two harmonicas and a case of toothpaste.
Find B and B in Montreal
Endure phone call from my mother who thinks I should just hop on a bus at 2am from Montreal to Ottawa. Was unaware I will have bags and a bicycle.

Day Six; augment items to give away and pack more T shirts and hats

Day Seven: Unpack snorkel and dive gear and add one piece lycra skin suit. Realize that some form of sunscreen is a good idea
Buy sunscreen and zinc and repack first aid kit accordingly

Day Seven pm:
Pack arnica massage oil, pain pills, and ear plugs. Decide that the massage bar is not necessary. Take out massage bar, put in elastic stretch bands instead.

Day eight
Find that when my bag is packed I can't lift it. Separate items into two bags, one for sports the other for clothes and give away items. Go to bus depot to buy tickets. Find line up too long go home

Day eight pm
Find bag with sports items still very heavy and wonder about the weight of cycling clothing, worry about not having a bus ticket

Day nine
worry about decision not to take racing bike, call bike mechanic to confirm my choice
Call Velo Quebec about daily distances
Pack scuba gear
Unpack scuba gear

Day ten
Pack art supplies, drawing pencils and pastels. Change mind and unpack art supplies leaving only a journal and a few drawing pencils

Day 11
Will try again to get a bus ticket


I am tired just writing it out!!

There was a time when I would enjoy events unencumbered, when I would relish the event and not worry about what I would do, what I would wear, how I would perform, I was content to be.

Supposedly you wiser as you get older but I am not so sure of that.

Valentines day...

Ahh Valentine's day, a day of lovely velvet boxes, great chocolates and flowers. The day after Valentine's day chocolate lovers will flock to the stores to buy those beautiful boxes at half price!

As a child growing up on the base, we all bought valentines cards for our classmates. They came in a book. Some were large with pictures of Superman..you are a SUPER valentine, they would read (my favourite) some were just small hearts. The night before Valentine's day at home, I would take out all the valentine cards and decide who to give them too. At school, we had time to distribute the cards. I tried to give one to everyone in the class.

My desk was never overflowing with valentines. I got the small ones, the leftovers that you could not decide who to give to. I think I may have gotten one SUPERMAN valentine. It was always a disappointing time.

My mother would buy me a small box of chocolates. I would save the boxes and store treasures in them long after the caramel chocolates were consumed. Gradually I had no more room to store them and the practice died out.

Years later, after I married and moved to Elmvale Acres I decided to change Valentine's day and used my now deceased cat Felix to be a 'secret valentine'. Felix would purchase small boxes of chocolates, not the velvet box but paper boxes with flowers on them and with a small card, deposit them in the mailboxes of the many isolated senior citizens on my street. I never told anyone what Felix was doing and it delighted me to think of the surprise. One woman, Mrs. Noble caught me and could not believe what I was doing.

I no longer look in my mailbox or on my desk for those little cards, and my mother has long ceased getting me small boxes for my treasures. Felix no longer distributes chocolates and it seems that Valentine's day has disappeared into the dreariness of an Ottawa February day.

There is always tomorrow, when I will line up to buy a huge velvet box of truffles at half price!

The Bicycle-a love affair

I still remember my first 'real' bicycle. It was an electric blue Supercycle with white walled tires, chrome fenders, a large chrome light and white hand grips for the 3 speed. We lived on the base in Ottawa and I rode my bike everywhere. It even had a white saddle and a fake leather bag for your tools. I even had a pump! I could patch a tire but my fix knowledge was very basic.

I remember my pride with that bike as I polished and kept it clean. I would ride up the hill in the hardest gear as I would go faster and ride it to Sir Wilfrid Laurier High School on Codds Road.

I was 15 when I saw my bike being wheeled away by a would be thief. I chased him and he dropped my bike!

That bike lasted a few years and when I worked at a bakery (at 19 years of age) from 3am onwards I rode that bike, with its light on to work at the then Dominion Bakery in St. Laurent Shopping centre every day for one entire exhausting summer.

I never lost my fascination with bicycles or my love of riding. Today that bike has long since vanished, although I have a gold 3 speed in my shed! The simple bike has been replaced by a racing bike, a touring bike and a beautiful steel commuter bike with a big light. I still polish the bikes and even after all these years, seminars and books, my fix knowledge is still basic although I can fix a flat.

Vive le velo!

Scent Free???

I have been noticing a huge increase in signs in doctors offices, clinics etc saying "SCENT FREE ZONE". This is in an attempt to protect people who may be sensitive to scents. They advocate unscented deodorants, soaps etc.

When I enter a scent free zone, my senses are assaulted by the acrid unmistakable reek of stale tobacco smoke on some client's person. The reek lingers and is almost choking.

If they are so worried about someone using scented deodorant or soap...why not make a note to the cigarette smokers out there who stink from a considerable distance.

It seems unfair to require those of us who enjoy scented products to have to forgo using our clairol herbal essence shampoo while the tobacco offenders have no such restriction

Scent free is scent free that that means tobacco!

John G McKechnie RIP

My brother-in law John died after a battle with liver cancer and Alzheimers. Although I am not there for the funeral, I wanted to share my memories of the Reverend John McKechnie

John McKechnie

A Canadian perspective, Reading, Lindfield and Chichester

When I first met John he had come to pick up Cyril and me from the airport. I was struck by his smile and his presence. He waited for us with his dog Toby. I remember thinking this was out of a movie. This was how we in North America imagine you Brits to be…unflappable, with a dog at your side, but there he was.

The dog stayed on the floor as we drove down what I thought were twisty narrow lanes but learned that these were fairly major roads. This was in Reading.

In Reading John impressed me with his control and love of Toby and his love for his family. I stayed in a small room above the garage. John’s life was so organized. He had prayer meetings, reading times and it appeared as if time stood still in that little house in Reading. Once Cyril and I borrowed bikes and John explained that there was a bit of a hill. I had not fully appreciated the British penchant for underestimation. While we North Americans are accused of hyperbole, the British are the opposite. We mounted the bikes, tall spindly things with wobbly cranks suited for their sons Andrew and Stephen. The seats I recall were instruments of torture and I stood for the ride. The ‘bit of a hill’ was in fact, a mountain! I spoke with John about ministry and prayers in general and even referred to his clerical suit as a prayer suit. He impressed me with his understanding of the needs of younger people in his parish and I recall thinking to myself this man may look like what we all expect clergymen to look like, but he is practical, down to earth and had an excellent grasp of people!

John told us about Roman ruins and in particular the ruins of a covered roman bath. There was only one and they had to write to Rome to get plans approved. Well there was the wall of it, being used for a sheep grazing field. That was another of my impressions of Britain, sheep. They may be no market in sheep wool…but the sheep are there.

Doreen made Sunday dinners and wonderful lunches and I was struck by the sense of calm and deep love that emanated from that house. I was also impressed with Toby fetching the mail!

Our next visit was in Lindfield. This is where I was introduced to central heating, or the lack of it. The vicarage was a carriage house and there was no central heating. No matter, it was May, the fields were full of bluebells, and primroses and the grass verdant…and the house cold. I had packed shorts and clothing suitable for a Canadian late May. I nearly froze. Cyril had not warned me that the ancient Britons spent most of their time in a deep freeze state! John was busy during our visit and my memories of him were mainly him mounting a tractor mower and mowing the vast expanse of grass attached to the vicarage like a country squire. In fact, I thought of him as a country squire..he had ‘the look’. He had routines with Doreen and tea times and once more when I was thawed enough to think, there was this wonderful sense of peace and calm in the McKechnie home.

Our last few visits with John were in Chichester. He did visit us in Canada and I will speak of those times. Here John took us for a walk on the downs and explained to us all about Fishbourne. He was to me, the picture of virile health as he strode with his long boots over the fields. Both Cyril and I loved hiking and this was a delight to me to walk among the chalk and flint and see the grasslands and the birds. He knew a lot about this as well. For John the world and nature was a delight. Once again he spoke about my interest in Roman ruins and told us about the palace in Fishbourne, which we visited on this time and once again. The mosaics are so impressive!

He produced ordinance survey maps for us, and tourist maps and explained to us where we could go. There was a lot to do and see in Chichester which itself is a beautiful place. John impressed me with his carpentry skills and his ability to make an extraordinary little garden out of a very small space. A man of many talents and strength. Again, I was overwhelmed by the sense of peace and order and tranquility, no matter what there was breakfast and there was tea.

On our last visit, John still had his routines but no longer engaged us in discussions about nature or Romans…soon after he was diagnosed with Alzheimers

John was also a Canadian white water explorer. Both of John and Doreen’s sons had come for a visit to us and Cyril and I provided them with the Canadian experience as we understood it which meant canoeing in Algonquin Park…(No not a tame park this is the wilderness) and white water rafting. I explained to John and Doreen that we would camp overnight and then hurl ourselves in a rubber raft down some pretty wild rapids. Well not in those words. We camped and one of my most vivid memories of John was him standing with his paddle in hand like a swiss pike, dressed in a faded blue wetsuit with his smile. He was ready! Yes! He had never done it before but no matter he was ready. That same British spirit I first felt when I met him with Toby. We had a blast.

We took them canoeing and were rained out! The British were used to rain, but me as the sole Canadian on the excursion got chilled badly and we had to cut short our trip to the wild. We have a painting Doreen made of the experience.

My memories of John are of peace, tranquility a great spirit and also his great love of Doreen. Bombs could fall, Canadians could visit, the Romans could invade…but he had his teas and his times where he would read and be with Doreen. The secret of a good marriage!

I am sure that John is walking again on his beloved downs and I believe Toby is beside him.

Don Carlo

Religion unlike the simple bible tutelage of Winnie, takes a darker hue in Verdi's Don Carlo. Here the Church rules Spain and King PHilippe with an iron hand. The grand inquisitor in his red robes is the devil himself as he counsels the King to kill his own son Carlo to save the country. Phillip himself has launched a campaign of death against Flanders.

The singing was sensational. Roberto Alagna was Don Carlo, Ferruccio Furlanetto was outstanding as the King. His aria where he laments that his Queen never loved him was moving to the point of tears.

Anna Smirnova as the scheming Princess Eboli was splendid as the scheming and wounded tiger once Carlo rejected her love.

The star of the opera was truly Marina Poplavskaya, her lines were exquisite and pure and her regal bearing a delight to watch. She was sensational, as she sang if angels weep for her in heaven in the final scene in the monastary before the tomb of Charles V, I was half expecting angels to weep.

Simom Keenlyside was Rodrigo, Carlo's friend. He was wonderful. When he sang his dying aria and urged Carlo to be the hero and the saviour of Flanders I was in tears. He gave his life for his friend.

The Church was menacing and in Act III the King appears before the church. There is a scene where some heretics are to be burned at the stake. There is no mercy here, as with the Grand Inquisitor there is no mercy, The act ends with the King and Queen watching the flames burn the heretics.

Unlike Winnies God who accepts sinners and saves them, the God of Don Carlo and the Catholic Church is merciless and crushes all who oppose him, be it by flame, intrigue or sword.

4 1/2 hours of bliss!!