Friday, November 28, 2008

Puddle-de-dum

This morning I had the privilige of being allowed to go caching all on my own. The main reason for that was that mom went to see the doctor yesterday who, when he heard that she had already been on the trails again, was not amused. When he proved to her that her muscle has not yet healed completely by squeezing her calf gently in the crucial spot, she was not amused either. Doctors' offices clearly are not always the amusement parks one would like them to be...
The other reason she had little desire to join me had to do with the weather: we had some refreshing rain.
I went back to Campbell Valley Regional Park where on previous occasions one cache had eluded me: Clue: The Kitchen. Perhaps I have mentioned before that this is a series based on the game Clue. At each cache you get some information as to where the murder might have been committed or not, who might have dun it or not...You, dear reader(s) might as well acquaint me with your familiarity with the game so I can have you help us solve the mystery. Clue: not in the kitchen...Clue: not the colonel or Mrs. White. Rest to follow upon approved qualifications, yours. By now you, if you are worth your salt, have figured out that I found the cache, no?
I also found some others there, puzzles that you do not know where they will be until you solve them and get the coordinates.
Did I mention it was raining? I had to take the Shaggy Mane trail again for a stretch. They should change the name to Sh...y Mane trail...; again, if you are worth your salt, you have figured out what the name should be. You can mention it in your application if you are not averse to using that type of language...I will close my eyes so I do not have to be party to it...
Rain makes for puddles. Puddles bring out the little boy in me, the Dutch little boy. No, not the one with the famous finger, but the one that produces dry land out of watery places. That happens by digging canals so the water can move to where no one lives. I have not yet succumbed to the temptation of having a shovel in my cache mobile on rainy days, so I am reduced to the one, stone-age tool I always have with me: my stick. So on my way in I dig little canals, seeing the water gush out of the puddle, off the path, into a lower area. Such instant gratification this produces that one forgets about the rain and wet feet and all the concomitant misery of BC weather. And one wonders why the duo of cachers that calls itself Puddlejumpers is not with me but would rather shovel snow...or hang drywall...ah well...
So from puddle to puddle I hopped and skipped, humming as I went, puddle-de-dum, puddle-de-dum, until I got onto the Ravine Trail. Not much in the way of puddles there...the ground does not get mushed up and holes are not created by horses hooves...and as a result it is not a Sh...y Trail, as a matter of fact the ground is hard enough to make it a bit of a skating rink, especially when going downhill...four times I almost had my back join my feet at the level where they live, but thankfully my legs have become strong through all the exercise of this year that I was able to stay upright...
On my way back to the car I checked on all the work I had done. I had a hard time finding back the spots where I had laboured: most puddles had become dry land!!! Welcome to Holland, I thought. Puddle-be-gon, puddle-be-gon...

1 comment:

3Men and A Little Lady said...

Hi Dutch boy and injured one still,

Puddle whatever...I got a bit confused on that one...sh....y whatever...I don't think we were ever taught those kinds of words...I really couldn't fill it in...
It is snowing beautifully here...coming?
Love you!
PJ