I took a long walk off a short dock and swam in the cold Greeny Lake after Moxy’s grouse flushing hike.
Ron photographed the two year old black bear eating Spawned out Salmon at the foot of the lodgepole pine in our camp at …….river. I could hear him crunching the Bones and intermittently snacking on bark from the camper window fifteen feet away. He was not much bigger than my old mastiff, therefore adorable. He climbed a tree and sat on a branch then, rubbing his butt and cleaning his fishy face.
The next campground, a logging road spur with a view of snow dusted mountains and plenty of firewood gave us two camper’s delights: I nearly walked into a bull moose while talking to the morning crows.
I only looked up because Moxy snorted and growled. He did not seem alarmed so we went back down the hill and woke up our cameraman who conveniently, is my husband.
There was what seemed like almost a permanent rainbow visible from that campsite,
a giveaway to our weather; a refrain of bright sun, cool rain, bright sun, cool rain.
Yesterday afternoon we paid our fee through the window at Jasper National Park. It is also Labor Day weekend in Canada and as expected, many campgrounds were full, so we pulled into “Whistler”which accomodated over one hundred sites. We dreaded some kind of parking lot affair like we experienced at Yosemite, we were however dead wrong. The camp sites were huge, there were trails to walk throughout with broad swaths of greenways for the red squirrels, rutting elk and bear.
On the road to Jasper we listened to a radio program about a college group that formed a choir including alzheimers patients. They recounted the amazing facility of the brain to recall and remember, and be moved and lifted by music even when disoriented to time, place and person. They sang, their voices sweet and young, rough and old, with an unusual and eloquent harmony.
While we tied up the dog, put down the camper legs and unfolded the loud creaky steps at Jasper,we heard angel voices rising and falling nearby, a latin cantata with warbling soprano, rumbling bass and perfect pitch. At least half a dozen voices. They sang on and on, eventually laughing and breaking into a call and response about watermelon and other camp food.
What Rhapsody! Edmondton community youth choir, a group of friends from that choir, anyhow, camping in tents next door.
And this morning, again, at a polite volume, they laugh, sing and rustle the tarps as they begin to stow their gear.
Music and camping. Two of my favorite things. It really does make me wish you were all here.