loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

loading-indicator

LOADING

Thoughts. At a campsite

June 28th, 2021

I’m here in the 1000 Islands, and taking a couple of days to stop and, well, stop. Just me, a tent and a motorcycle (yay Hot Fuzz – one post I shall explain why the name). You can see the view from the tent in the picture above (it’s quite peaceful, but at the same time there are quite a few people around, all packing up now as it is a Monday and they are heading out). While Burton said “be not solitary, be not idle” there are definitely times when you need to stop and smell the roses. For me that means being quite alone and quite still for some time. Right now it is for a couple of days. As I lay (awake) in my tent in the middle of the night I must admit there were a few times I had to smile. Mostly they had to do with people putting their car alarms on (the odd ‘peep’ from horns is an amusing counterpoint to the silence of a forest). I confess I have no idea who they thought was going to steal the car when they were in a tent right next door but then, I don’t know much about urban living. I do know that the shower block is around 100 metres along the path. So it was even more amusing as I sat and read at my wee picnic table last night to see the people in the site across from mine jump into their car to go there. I’m sure there’s a good reason so I’m not for a second judging. The real issue is that we’ve become so used to personal transport that we can’t let it go (the suburban warrior’s version of “cold dead hands”). Sure, I brought my motorcycle along for the ride. And yes, I own a car. The thing is, I’m not much better and this kind of thing makes you realize how not much better you are. It’s quite humbling. Now, if our governments (all of them) could be bothered to invest properly in rapid mass transit that reached the real engines of society (you know, the farms that feed you all) maybe we’d be on to something. Except, well, it’s nice to live out of a city and it’s nice to not have to share our space, right? Or share a seat next to a stranger. It’s so much nicer to sit in our cages, breathe the fumes, and get someplace fast than it is to swallow our pride. On which note - Hot Fuzz is electric. Definitely capable of going fast, but ironically motorcycles encourage you to slow down and smell those roses. Stopping to charge every so often is an added bonus. I’m definitely done getting places fast. Except if there’s chocolate.