The road less cycled

The sun blazed down from the sky yesterday, Sunday, warming the Fraser Valley as much as it is really capable of doing at this time of year as it nears its Spring equinox period of matching daylight and night-time hours. As I mean to do every year and only accomplish some years, I went for a long walk, clearing some cobwebs from my system while picking stinging nettle (Urtica dioica) for the evening meal. Stinging nettle is a fantastic edible potherb that grows wild in great abundance, pulling minerals and vitamins from the top layer of soil and making them available to us in a way that they wouldn’t be otherwise. At this time of year, I supplement our diet with big buckets of Urtica, and this year, still being more or less decomissioned because of my Mar.4 accident, finding the time to go and get it wasn’t really a problem.

From my place, a ramble out through the field, over the creek, up the hill, through the barbed wire fence is certain to yield some of this plant, and extending the walk is sure to fill a big bucket or two.

It’s possible to walk all the way to Highway 1 by going through the suburb at the top of the hill, and then down the trails which snake down the hillside over to Fishtrap Creek, which flows south into Washington and the Skagit River. Here it’s still a small tributary, rippling through residential suburbans, a forested ravine, busy roadways, industrial sites, and farmland before coming to the border.

Though I described Fishtrap as being just a small tributary, here it looks like more than that because City engineers have dammed it to hold back water, sparing farmers from the agony of flooded fields.

After that, I don’t know what it does, though one day, when the similarity of all of Cascadia is recognized, I hope it is managed in its entirety by one  authority so that its headwaters and mainstem are subject to the same types of regulation. I mean, who knows what them Yanks are doin’ at Fishtrap’s mouth, eh?

My sister accompanied me on the first portion of this walk, helping me to pick stinging nettle, so by this time my bucket was getting pretty full. Fishtrap was not very rewarding with its Urtica populations, and besides, what’s to say the legion of people who walk their dogs here have kept their dogs away from it? Not likely, so I simply walked around Fishtrap without picking very much. There was a bald eagle here, as well as two double-crested cormorants and an abundance of waterfowl – gadwall, green-winged teal, Canada geese, American coot, double-crested merganser, mallard, and others. Here’s a photo of the habitat at Fishtrap:

Fishtrap Creek Park, looking south

Stinging Nettle is quite easy to recognize. It’s high in minerals, especially the young shoots which are available for perhaps a month in the springtime. I don’t have a picture, but it tends to grow in thoroughly wooded areas where deciduous trees predominate. At the end of the walk, I gathered almost a full bucket. It doesn’t have the most pleasant taste at the best of times, so some people like to mix or season it. Today I mixed it with some potatoes from Aldergrove, causing the unpleasantness to more or less disappear as the potato taste dominates. Otherwise, a simple addition of toasted, ground sesame seeds and/or olive or other oil does wonders and makes this plant very palatable. Who needs early salad greens when you can start off the growing season by consuming this wonderful, free, green?

So much more happened on this walk that I could comment on; the construction of the Discovery Trail; the salmon art at DeHavilland and Old Yale; the vista of Abbotsford you get from up on Blueridge; the action’s of the landlord in and around Downes Creek; the curiously dense growth of red alder on the hill, forming a natural monoculture reminiscent of a tree farm, and more. Despite Abbotsford’s rapid growth, it retains some of its natural features and remains an intriguing city, from both a cultural and naturalistic perspective. Here’s a few more photos.

This grove of Red Alder (Alnus rubra) has dramatically changed the environment of this hillside.

This is the view of Abbotsford from the top of Blueridge Hill, complete with a boring Oak that still retains it’s leaves! What? Don’t these trees ever lose their leaves? I guess that’s why they plant them. Retards!

A pair of red-tailed hawks have used this stately black cottonwood (Populus balsamifera) to nest in for years now.

On March 4 I was hit by the driver of a Lexus while trying to find a way to bicycle to New Westminster.I was on Broadway, heading East around dusk, and woke up a few hours later in a hospital bed. Of the interceding period I have no memory, and my memory of days and events immediately after the accident is patchy at best.

I haven’t driven or bicycled since the accident, and have walked, taken transit, or been carpooled everywhere. Since then I’ve seen a flurry of doctors and a couple lawyers, spending most of the rest of my time at home just “takin’ it easy”, as Buck 65 says about his trip to the fishing hole. I’ve rediscovered some wild places, started some good books, and tried to remember that I actually do still have some academic obligations. I think I’d kinda been in the unconscious process of dropping out of sight and starting afresh in some ways anyway.

What matters is that despite having been in jured while riding my bike, in no way will I be deterred from doing so in traffic again. Perhaps my resolve is even stronger. In a sense I’m lucky to bere; some maniac irresponsibility on the part of the driver of that Lexus, who was going 65km/h in an intersection, while according to the police officer who attended the scene, I was doing everything right. My life however, wouldn’t be the same without my bicycle, so damned if I let this be a big setback in that regard.

Mentally things have been a little patchy. I don’t always reconcile with reality, I guess you could say. For instance, in the preceding text, I’d swear I’d written “incident” instead of “accident” as my subconscious seems to prefer that word. When I go back and read it however, what do I see? The word “accident.” Perhaps most strangely, my family queries me about things I did just after Mar. 4, and the event in question simply doesn’t register on me. I have no memory of some of those things. Days seem to go by like the flash of a shutter; I’ve barely started one before it’s time to go to bed and start the next one again.

Oddly though, I’m not getting any mental feelings of regret or resentment; only a feeling of  “this is how it is, this is what happened, now you find the best solution.” Nothing else, other than a seeming inability to focus on the mundane and the occurrence of an obsession with the bigger picture that’s a little disconcerting.

I mean, it’s a bigger picture which includes the prospect of continuing ecological destruction, a dysfunctional economic system, a patchy job market (or soon to be patchy if it’s not yet), and a living situation that has more questions than answers.

More insanity than mundanity.