Wok racing

In keeping with the winter sports theme of late, I offer up … Wok Racing, in which seemingly normal people race down a bobsled run sitting in large woks. That’s right – Chinese cooking appliances – on a bobsled run!

For some reason, this seems to be particularly popular in Germany (insert your favourite stereotypical justification here), but you have to admire any sport for which preparation apparently involves consuming a few beers and having a smoke or two, all for medicinal reasons and to calm the nerves I’m sure.

Unfortunately this video has had the soundtrack disabled, but the subtitles make up for it.

Can bobsledding the Great Wall be far behind?

Skating’s version of cross-country skiing

With the recent warm weather skating on the lake is probably just a memory for another year. It was an exceptional year with 7 or 8 great days when the ice was smooth and there was little or no snow on the surface.

But as reported in the Ottawa  Citizen yesterday, skating this winter was not confined to lakes and rivers. Brian Anderson is a 60-year-old Osgoode resident who practices “wild ice” skating.

Wild ice is not what you would expect – ice hanging out with the cool gang, getting into the booze, and then melting away when the cops arrive – it’s naturally occurring ice that forms in farmers fields, ditches and creek beds during the thaw-freeze cycles typical of late winter and early spring.

As Anderson admits, some of the ice can be “pretty wild”, as corn stalks and clumps of earth poke through here and there, but it can also provide kilometres of natural skateway for the wild ice skating aficionado.

Just don’t wear your best skates.

An ill wind…

As I look out at the lake today I’m reminded of the old adage, “’Tis an ill wind that blows nobody any good”.

We are now into what is arguably the worst weather season – that depressing thaw, freeze, thaw cycle that we go through every year as Spring begins to flex her muscles before bursting on the scene, fully formed, some time in April.

Today is no exception as rain pours from leaden skies to erase much of the snow in the woods and turn the  hard-packed roads to sheets of ice. Puddles of water gather around the door sills and on the driveway. It’s damp and it’s dreary – the kind of day where the best medicine is a good book and a roaring fire.

But the rain has also flooded the lake, melting the snow on top of the ice to create another puddle, this time one that’s about 300 acres in size. And with temperatures forecast to drop to –18 tonight and expected to stay cold for the next few days, we’ll have some of the best skating in the country. All free, and right at the back door.

It’s going to be great!

The promise of spring

It’s another crisp, cold morning, the likes of which we’ve seen too often this winter. The thermometer is hovering around 20-below, and the chickadees and nuthatches, feathers puffed up for warmth, are swarming the feeders looking for the energy needed to get them through one more day.

But the sun is up, a little higher in the sky than yesterday, and higher still than the day before that. You can now begin to feel the warmth of its fire, especially in those tucked away corners out of reach of the north wind. And on the deck, the snow is starting to melt, throwing up a thin fog as the heat-generated moisture reaches the still frigid air a foot or so above the surface.

It’s only February so winter still has lots of nasty tricks up her sleeve, but the promise of spring is in the air, and with that promise comes optimism for a brighter, warmer future.

Yes, your brain CAN freeze...

Last weekend the OPP were called out to investigate an accident between a pickup truck and a snowmobile. In the middle of the Rideau River. While ice-fishing. Alcohol was involved.

So how Canadian is that, eh? Expect to see it in a Canada’s Hinterland episode coming to the small screen soon.

Okay, so it's cold....

Today the Ottawa temperatures were in the -25 range (-35 with wind chill), but from the media coverage you’d think civil servants were freezing solid on the street, becoming human bollards that will interfere with bus traffic if and when the transit strike is ever over.

Sure 25-below is cold, but it’s not THAT cold (just ask anyone who lives between the Ontario border and the Rockies what cold is). And if we didn’t spend so much time telling everyone to stay indoors when it gets cold in this country, we’d all be better able to deal with winter weather and even, dare I say it, be able to get out and enjoy it. The cold is, after all, one of the defining characteristics of living up here in the Great White North, eh?

So bundle up and remember, it’s character building.

The night drive

It’s 8:30 Saturday and the sun set hours ago. We’re on our way home from a matinee theatre performance and an early dinner with friends. Randy Bachman is playing 60’s blues on his Vinyl Tap radio show. The volume is cranked up, feet are tapping on the floor and hands are beating against the steering wheel. It’s cold, but the roads are clear and dry. Driving conditions are excellent.

The bright, full moon casts crisp shadows – younger eyes might even be able to read by its light this night – and high beams are unnecessary. We can see the deer foraging in the fields as we drive by.

Offering cheerful contrast to the monochromatic moonlight, some of the farm houses still wear their Christmas colours, a welcome to friends who stop by.

A solitary snow machine out for an evening spin is seen in the distance.

The hour goes by too fast.

The song of the lake

If we’re very fortunate, once or twice each winter conditions will be just so and we’ll be serenaded for a couple of hours by the sounds of our lake in the grip of a deep freeze. Today was just such a day.

The best way to enjoy this particular symphony is by being in the midst of it, so when you hear the orchestra tuning up it’s time to bundle up and head out onto the ice to enjoy nature’s music.

From the best seats in the house you can feel the rumble of the bass as a major crack occurs at the other end of the lake and reverberates through the ice like the growl of submarinal thunder.

Then listen to the pinging as smaller cracks echo through the stillness, contributing an ethereal sound to the piece that is not unlike a whale’s call.

Finally the crisp clear crackle as a nearby split ripples and races towards you only to disappear somewhere deep below just before you think the ice will collapse underfoot.

When in full song, as it was today, the sound is continuous, broken only by the cawing of crows overhead and the stamping of feet as the audience, enthralled, tries to stay warm and thereby enjoy the experience as long as possible.

It’s a great way to start the New Year.

The sacred white blanket

There’s a North American Indian legend that in winter the Great Spirit spreads a sacred white blanket on Mother Earth, allowing her to rest and prepare for the new life to come in the spring.

When all is quiet and peaceful and a white mantle covers the land, it’s easy to believe.



Merry Christmas everyone!

The blizzard

Mother Nature is on a tear – from 20 below yesterday to blizzard conditions today.

Normally when these storms blow in from the East we just batten down the hatches, throw another log on the fire, and wait them out. But this time I had to go into town - to get snow tires installed!

Fortunately there was very little traffic on the road and I was able to keep up a pretty good pace. And by straddling the centre line I had lots of sliding room when I needed it, which I did once or twice.

No traffic meant I could also enjoy the somewhat surreal experience of driving in blizzard conditions. The horizon is lost as the grey sky, falling snow, and snow-covered fields merge in the distance. With no reference points, depth perception fails. Periodically a house or barn will appear, seemingly afloat in a sea of whiteness, or an oncoming vehicle will suddenly appear only to disappear again in the rear view mirror. It’s like driving into a blank canvas upon which some unseen hand is quickly sketching a montage of black and white images which just as quickly fade back into the white.

A couple of hours later I was back. The car was in the driveway, suitably shod with the latest in snow and ice conquering technology, and I was in the kitchen inhaling the smells of freshly baked carrot cake and licking the icing spoon. Let it snow.

Jack Frost nipping....

Boots crunching on the snow... Trees cracking in protest... The far-off whine of a snowmobile crossing the lake... The mid-morning sun hanging low in the southern sky...Breath freezing on my beard... Squinting eyes blinded by the brightness of the fresh white snow... Fingertips numbing in winter gloves... The smell of wood smoke from the chimney... Chickadees calling in the silence... Frigid eyeglasses fogging up indoors.

Winter has now got us firmly in her grasp. This morning I awoke to a bright, crisp sunny day with the temperature hovering around -20°C. The high winds of yesterday had dissipated and the air was absolutely calm.

I took a shortcut to go and get the morning paper (yes, there’s a trail through there) and was reminded again just how spectacular a winter day in the country can be. A true feast for the senses and the kind of day that lifts the soul.

Cold and wet

This joke struck a tender nerve, arriving as it did just after I had finished slip-sliding my way along the half-mile skating rink we euphemistically refer to as a driveway. I think it perfectly sums up the winter we’ve had here in Ontario.


A curious fellow died one day and found himself waiting in the long line of judgment. As he stood there he noticed that some souls were allowed to march right through the pearly gates into Heaven. Others though, were led over to Satan who threw them into the burning pit. But every so often, instead of hurling a poor soul into the fire, Satan would toss a soul off to one side into a small pile.

After watching Satan do this several times, the fellow's curiosity got the best of him. He strolled over and asked Satan what he was doing. 'Excuse me, Prince of Darkness,' he said. 'I'm waiting in line for judgment, but I couldn't help wondering, why are you tossing those people aside instead of flinging them into the Fires of Hell with the others?'

'Oh those . . .' Satan groaned.' They're all from Ontario. They're still too cold and wet to burn.'