Another Sooke Adventure

These are the good old days. Yesterday Tom W joined the usual suspects -- Mary, Mike, Jan, YT -- for another ramble in the magnificent Sooke Hills. Life tastes better in the Sooke wilderness, bigger and bolder too. Am I just a kneejerk member of the love-the-one-you're-with club? Maybe, but yesterday's circumstances --crisp near-zero temperatures, clear blue skies, no wind -- made the outing seem just a notch better than the other excellent Sooke adventures we've shared with M & M over the years.

Big old cedars, hemlocks and douglas-firs dominate the valley bottoms but we don't have to climb very high before these give way to open slopes of arbutus, manzanita and shore pine affording spectacular views of Juan de Fuca Strait and the Olympic Mountains.

Birding is never over-the-top in the hills but gangs of kinglets let us know that we aren't alone in this world. Yesterday a hairy woodpecker hung around long enough for us to give Tom a short clinic on the fine distinctions between the hairy and his little cousin, the downy. Like people, Corvus corax knows the value of balancing work with a measure of leisure: a murder of ravens played tag and revelled in their favourite aerial games. We checked every eagle cruising overhead in hopes one might turn out to be golden but no, they were all bald.

One denizen of the Sooke hills we always keep an eye out for is the sooty grouse. Yesterday I nearly stepped on one; too bad no one else was nearby to share in the startled excitement. We pause to look at maidenhair ferns or read signs that the first blooming of early saxifrage isn't far off. Mary is a photographer, I take pictures. We all delight simply in being where we are.

Around midday we find a suitable promontory to sit, unpack the lunch and watch the world go by. Mike and I entertain ourselves with sophomoric song and verse while the women try to steer the dialogue to more edifying subjects. If laughter is the spice of life these outings are well-spiced. I am always surprised, though never disappointed, that we typically don't have to share the hills with other humans. Sometimes a few, often none

By day's end the old bones may be a bit weary but we feel exhilarated, convinced that life can't get much better than this.