On January 19, I woke up at 7am to find the campsite enshrouded in fog so thick I couldn’t see Burger’s or Yann’s tents in the distance. It was much too chilly to leave my tent, so after putting on a fleece jacket and activating a fresh pair of hand warmers to put inside my sleeping bag, I tightened the drawstring around the hood, leaving only my nose poking out. I stayed in my warm cocoon for another two hours before emerging from the tent to find that the fog had dissipated. The boys were up and around, boiling water on camp stoves for their coffee.
“Sleeping Beauty,” remarked Burger.
I’m glad he and Yann didn’t end up scraping my frozen corpse off the tent platform at Montague Harbour Provincial Park. I’d survived my first ever winter camping trip.
False Spring has arrived! The weather forecast through Tuesday looks so promising that my plan to go on an overnight cycling trip tomorrow night has been met with encouragement rather than bafflement from those I’ve shared it with. This won’t be a repeat of October’s Hell of the South Island ride, as Yann, Burger, and I are expected to reach the campsite well before dark.
My adventures in 2026 continue to be a series of anomalies. Today, I combined two uncharacteristic activities: ice skating and interacting with the local deaf community. I was more successful with the former, accomplishing about 30 laps around what looked like a giant planter box. When I first saw the ice rink, I got excited about the strip of ice that stuck out of the circular rink, thinking it’d join up with a second, larger rink–the adult rink. But, no, that strip led to the Zamboni garage. This rinky-dink ice rink was about 1/3 the size of a standard ice rink and teeming with deaf kids pushing around skating aids. Barely big enough to wow anyone with my mediocre ice skating skills. Even though I didn’t “find my people”, I didn’t regret going.
Even on the mainland, where there’s a much larger community of like-eared folks, my childfree status has kept me from re-integrating in the deaf community to which I once belonged. I’m also not quite old enough to get amped for Bingo nights with the deaf empty nesters. Maybe in 2046?
I have committed to attending a Heated Rivalry-themed party in March with one of my favourite deaf people, Zoée. It’s not a deaf event, but a dance party at a queer bar! I think I’ll dress like Scott Hunter when he tried to go art shopping incognito.
“Where’s all the heteronormative art at?”
That reminds me, I haven’t yet shared the screen print I did over the holidays.
Yikes. It’s been almost three weeks since my last post.
I’ve been busy shedding layers. Now that it’s warm enough to forego arm/leg warmers, toe covers, basically everything in the above photo, cycling is all I want to do.
So, I will recap the last three weeks in digestible chunks.
I’ve barely been home since Wednesday, and it’s been mostly for good reasons. Temperatures outside have been comfortable. That’s a rarity for me. I have a tight, acceptable temperature range.
A classic getaway for Victorians is to leave the island for an even smaller one. We have a few options: Salt Spring, Galiano, Mayne, Pender, and Saturna. There are even more options, but those five islands are the most accessible.
squaremeat.com 