Freakin' with the Frogs

Hello my two loyal readers (that includes you, Teahouse Blossom, and you too, Brooke!). I have been out and about in the great marine park and mountain-studded playground known as the Pacific Northwest, trying to pack as much living in before I 1)die or 2)have children, whichever comes first.

Recently took a trip to the "Sunshine Coast" of Canada, where it rained much of the time but never mind about that.

There was mountain biking, kayaking, and coastal hiking where we saw more starfish then people.










At a mountain lake, we camped in the rain and ate soggy burritos with burnt rice, then went to sleep to the sound of a batallion of frogs partying at the local frog disco.

We kayaked to little islands in sparkling Howe Sound, with big mountains in view. The wind picked up on our return, and if I thought we were going to die, I kept it to myself. We headed immediately thereafter to a serpentine mountain bike park in the cool shadows of tall trees where we feebly attempted trails with names like "Rock n' Root" and "Technical Ecstasy," getting lost in the deep, dark maze but emerging - luckily or not - in time to make the ferry.













There we sat in sun deck, where the view of water and mountains was like something you would see in a View-Master from the 70s. By now, of course, the last day of our vacation, it was sunny. But hey, who's complaining about the weather? I'm just happy I still get to play on the playground.