Breaking Bad finale

Didja watch it? Breaking Bad, I mean. It was simply the most hyped series finale since Lost. It definitely lived up to its billing, much like Lost lived up to its anticipation. My wife and I tuned in late to both series. We heard about both shows being really good for several seasons before we got hooked on them. By taking advantage of the latest method of watching series TV, we binge-watched all the seasons of both shows in one calendar year, each during the 12 months preceding each show’s finale, simply so we could watch each series finale in real time.

As for the Breaking Bad finale, Walter White died on the floor of a meth lab, amidst his beloved chemistry. How could I not have predicted that? It’s really the most obvious location. It’s kinda like that saying about not being able to see the forest for the trees.

WW (“Woodrow Wilson? Willy Wonka? Walter White?”) also got to exert his control for one final time over Jesse. Fortunately he also showed compassion by seeming to plan his assault on the compound around rescuing Jesse. Despite his “hit” on Jesse assigned to Jack’s crew, in the end we assume his conscience caught up with him and he realized he had an option to right a past wrong, i.e. the sentence of Jesse’s death.

That final shot of Jesse laughing/ crying hysterically as he raced away in the car from his imprisonment was such an emotional release. It felt like all the tension the series had created from the beginning was released right there, like the air being released from the proverbial balloon. In my opinion, it was one of the rare TV moments that left me speechless. That’s even more a triumph considering that the finale ended up being so easily predictable (despite the fact I failed to predict it).

Back in the Saddle Again

As with most entry points into the Kettle Valley Railroad trail system, Myra Canyon is the start point for both the Myra Canyon to Penticton/ Osoyoos trail, and the east-bound leg leading to Midway and Castlegar.

West trail leading to Penticton/ Osoyoos.

East trail leading to Midway/ Castlegar.

During the first day of our journey the scenery didn't change much; conifer forest interspersed with the occasional lake.

Typical view from the saddle.

The first body of water we came across was at McCulloch Lake Resort. Jeff had thought to inquire about staying here overnight, but it's too close to our starting point. As it turns out, it didn't look to be open for business. From general observances it seems that construction has halted. Some of the exposed building paper was faded and torn in spots. Although, electricity was being fed to at least one building; a porch light was left on. From info gleaned from the 'web I learned that this is/ was intended to be a resort strata-titled community.

McCulloch Lake Resort.

A few kilometers down the trail we happened upon a gazebo, a bit of welcome shade. A sign beside it said the lake was Private but all were welcome to use the gazebo.

Private lake.

Charred Conifers

Despite the devastating forests fires of 2003 which destroyed most of the Myra Canyon trestles, it’s still a magnificent place for a bike ride. The trestles have been re-built and new green growth is evident everywhere.

Part of the canyon has been designated as a park, and as such the existing burnt trees that are still standing are allowed to remain until nature topples them. On the morning we began our KVR adventure those trees actually made for quite a stark silhouette against the crisp blue sky.

While viewing the KVR forest’s charred vertical trunks I was reminded of Mount St. Helen’s recovery. My wife and I detoured there 4 summers ago on our way to Portland. I hadn’t been to St. Helens for about 20 years prior. Allowing for the vast intensity differential of natural disasters that befell both places, it is reasonable to accept that recovery rates are different. Judging from memory it seems to me that Myra Canyon’s 10-year recovery thus far is about equal to Mount St. Helen’s 33-year progress.

Charred trunks of Myra Canyon.

Dry sticks amid new green growth (and new trestle!).

Kettle Valley Railway bicycle trail

This year's segment of the Kettle Valley Railway bicycle tour extended from Myra Canyon, in the hills overlooking Kelowna, to Midway.

Sunrise at the campground in Midway.

We arranged for a local adventure company to shuttle us and our bikes to Myra Canyon from Midway.

Existing damage to Trestle #3 from rock slide.

Being trestle-junkies we cycled over the close-by trestles of the canyon before starting on our chosen trail, which was in the opposite direction. Also, we wanted to see first-hand the extent of the damage to Trestle #3 from a boulder striking one of the supports. To a layman's eye it still looks crossable, but I'd not try it. If an engineer deems it a no-go zone, that's all the warning I need. Admittedly I ride an off-road bicycle, but I've no desire to careen down a cliff-side if another timber should snap mid-span due to the weight of self and conveyance.

A bedroom-sized boulder knocked out a major support timber.

Meteor trail over Vancouver

Last night while walking Tannah I saw the longest shooting star trail I’ve ever seen. I was walking north along Chester Street when my periphery vision detected a moving light in the sky above the houses. My vantage point was perfect to view this phenomenon in a clear patch of clear evening sky to the East.

Normally I’ve found with shooting stars that if you don’t happen to be looking directly at that point in the sky where the star enters Earth’s atmosphere, you miss it. From past experience I’ve noticed they generally occur almost as fast as lightning. By the time your brain registers what’s happening and you shift your gaze to that location, it’s already finished.

But this one was different. I had time to look in that direction, and to register what it was. The leading tip of it seemed to have a slightly green tint. I was half-expecting to hear the explosion of fireworks after it extinguished. But just as fast as I had that thought I realized the streak had been traveling horizontally through the sky, not rising or falling vertically.

This one makes up for missing the recent annual Perseid Meteor Shower.

Leg Music

For all the photos I took on this year’s KVR bicycle trip, it wouldn’t be fully described without inclusion of one particular auditory component; the insects. And mercifully I don’t mean mosquitoes or black flies, or even wasps. Two extraordinary audible components were the buzzsaw cacophony of the grasshoppers and the soothing chirp-song of the crickets.

Every once in a while I hear a line in a song or read a sentence in a book that really sticks with me. There’s a band called The National that released a song recently with a really memorable and abstract line. I can’t remember the name of the song, but the line that resonated with me is, “I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees.” The quirkiness and seeming unconnectiveness (is that even a word?) of the idea is what I find attractive.

My opening two paragraphs blend in that a friend and I have just returned from bicycling 160 km over 2 days along a section of the Kettle Valley Railroad trail from Myra Canyon to Midway. One of the highlights was what I refer to as “I was carried to Midway in a swarm of grasshoppers.” That song by The National was playing repeatedly in my head for much of the southern portion of our trip, probably starting at about Zamora and continuing to Midway. I was often riding in front, thus trailblazing in a sense, because a large portion of the KVR trail crosses grassy farmers’ fields. In many cases the trail is quite literally a 2-rut trail through tall grass (sometimes even 1-rut) populated by an uncountable number of grasshopppers sitting in the grass.  The disturbance of my mountain bike tires had them swarming up to about waist level on many occasions. Reasonably frequently I had to brush one off my leg as I rode. I know they don’t bite, but I can’t help but feel a bit creeped out by such a big insect landing on my bare skin.

Being city-raised I’ve never had occasion to traverse sizeable open meadows in the hot summer months. Urbanization generally confines many of us to a more sheltered environment. It’s an eye-opening (and ear-opening) experience to ride through a dry grass field to the audibly buzzy accompaniment of thousands and thousands of grasshoppers. I had no idea that a large volume of them could generate such an all-encompassing wall of sound. Considering “awesome” is such an over-used word recently, I still must say that the experience was definitely awe-inspiring. I just can’t adequately describe the sound. It wasn’t deafening, but it was certainly as loud as being surrounded by traffic noise.

Similarly, in the camper van at our Midway campsite, prior to drifting off to sleep, the crickets ramped up their volume. Their strength of numbers increased their chirp-song to the point where it almost drowned out the sound of a fan motor on a neighbouring warehouse. (Wouldn’t ya know it? We go to all the trouble of traveling to southeast BC to camp in the great-wide-open and end up a stone’s throw from a warehouse with a squeaky fan motor.) Fortunately it was quite easy to focus on the crickets.