Occasionally I stop and ask myself, “Why do I do this?” This outdoor writing. I’m not changing the world or doing something particularly meaningful. But every now and then I am reminded by someone. It is usually a family member, but yesterday I bumped into an old acquaintance at the mall. He stopped to say hello and let me know how much he enjoyed my writing. Then the answer is not so vague. The great outdoors is magical. And writing about it often inspires others to get off the couch and into the outdoors. Outdoor adventure is part of who I am. It’s the way God made me. Why shouldn’t I help others find the same simple pleasures?
This morning is very cold. There is frost sparkling on the fields and you can see where deer have walked very early this morning. l stop and think that the cold is only relative. Relative because last weekend it was 30 above and I was basking in the sun on the beach. You wouldn’t want to do that today. But in another month or two, zero will be a blessing. Frost is the first harbinger of fall. It kicks animals into high gear. The salmon are running, the moose have begun to search for a mate. Every other creature is searching for food in preparation for the long winter.
Autumn is my favourite time of year. In fact it is so full of opportunities it is often difficult to decide what to do next. You can swing a fly or lure amongst 20-pound salmon in many of our rivers, hunt grouse, or simply take a walk in the woods and soak in the smell and colours of fall.
We live in a magical place along the north shore of the largest lake on earth. The water is clean and blue. The insects have all but died off, and our hills are covered in orange, yellow and just a dash of red. Leaves crunch under foot and mountain ash berries hang like grapes on the branch.
Beside my bed are several outdoor magazines. They are full of pictures of big bucks, and the text tells you everything you need to know about bagging one. l think about the days when I had just gotten into fly fishing. I read scads of articles on how to catch fall steelhead on a fly. Some were like the key to the Kingdom, so I photocopied them so I could read them over and over.
Not only does this reading get my juices flowing, but it provides an opportunity for me to forget the sometimes unpleasant realities of life. It is an escape of sorts. One that is neither illegal, immoral or unhealthy. So many people turn to unhealthy things to assuage their conscience, their predicament: how they feel that life has dealt them a poor hand of cards.
But even if you can’t afford bus fare, you can still jump on a bike, put on a pair of shoes, or have someone push you in a wheel chair and wander off into the woods. Hoisting a chunky salmon that has just bent your rod in half is good medicine. So is a brace of grouse. A harvested deer or moose is a memory that will last a lifetime. And life is short. Before you know it you’ll be wondering where the time went.
So while you still can, do what brings you joy. lf hunting and fishing is not your thing we don’t mind. But get out and walk, take pictures, maybe have a sandwich and a thermos of tea beside a babbling brook. Winter is long, summer is hot and sweaty, but autumn is the time when this country blooms in every way imaginable.
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