An Alpaca Surprise

It’s wonderful to get away for a while. In the middle of July we packed up our things into a car that is much smaller than it looks from the outside, like a sort of reverse TARDIS, and drove a few hours along the edge of Lake Ontario with our knees by our chins. It’s been a long time since I went camping and I had no idea what to expect from a Canadian campsite, so I was excited for new experiences (and hopefully raccoons).

As we drove through the gorgeous Southern Ontario countryside my head whipped around when my girlfriend pointed out a field full of alpacas. I noticed the sign ‘gift shop’ and tried to be polite and say we could maybe stop on the way back? If we had time? Except somehow I gave in and we turned around, pulled into the yard, and descended upon the friendliest alpaca farmer I’ve ever met.

We’ll pretend I’ve met more than one.

The farm was Nuevo Norte Alpacas in Colborne, and the owner – I believe her name was Amy – opened up the gift shop just for us. Well, me. My girlfriend and her mum weren’t in it for the fibre.

Nuevo Norte

She showed us down to the gift shop and I told her that one day I wanted to keep alpacas, and she was super helpful. I feel as though I learned more in that half an hour than anything I’ve learned before. She explained the entire philosophy behind how she cares for the alpacas (and she has 80+ so she should know), and that she got into it for the fibre as much as anything else.

I bought two sets of roving and a beautiful grey lopi yarn from their flock, and geeked out about knitting and spinning. On the way back Amy (I think) showed me the wild woad growing on her land which I had never seen in person – only in pictures. She brought us to the pen full of pregnant alpacas or those who had recently given birth, plus some thoroughly adorable crias (babies). I learned that alpacas all poop in the same spot in the field and that crias will stand for a long time in that spot with nothing happening while they’re still nursing. This entertained me more than it should.

I know this isn’t the kind of image you came here to see, but you’re welcome! 😀

Though I cannot get back out there easily for now as I don’t drive, once I do – and have some spare time – I will be going back. My aim to one day keep alpacas is sincere and I think I’ve found a place that would be perfect to learn more.

If you’re ever passing through, check out Nuevo Norte Alpacas. They do tours and workshops and classes, and they have some gorgeous fibre for sale.

The Places That Made Me

Thank you to everyone who commented on my last post. I’m feeling inspired. Luckily we’re heading into a long weekend in these parts so I can spend some nice refreshing time sat at my glorious desk and writing lots of posts.

One thing a few people mentioned is that talking about my non-knitting life is fine, which is something I’ve struggled with before when writing here. I try to find the line so I don’t overshare (I can be prone to it) but I think I’ve stayed too far over on the wrong side. I’m going to be more open about things going on – within reason, of course.

In April I went back to England, as I’ve mentioned before. It was my first trip back there after emigrating. It was a strange, beautiful, and busy time and I’m still recovering from the huge amounts of socialising I did there. I came back inspired right down to my toes, and if I show you a few pictures of my place of origin you might see why.

Weymouth and Portland are a very strange set of towns. Weymouth is a beach town; a tourist resort that’s semi-comatose in the winter and unbearably packed with sunburnt people in the summer. Portland is the island (tombolo) that hangs off the edge of the town, and it is where I spent the first sixteen years of my life, at which point I stormed off to live with my Dad in Upwey (a village on the outskirts of Weymouth).

Living in Dorset comes with its own strange truths, and though I don’t miss living there, I love going back. It’s beautiful. It’s steeped in history. It’s really, really strange.

Yes, we have actual thatched cottages (Upwey)

My favorite place to go (Upwey Wishing Well)

The harbour front (Weymouth)

Town Bridge (Weymouth)

Weymouth beach – or part of it. It’s huge.

My nephew and I stand on the soft sand. I was jetlagged & confused, but needed to be on the beach.

Sandsfoot castle with Portland behind it. 15 minute walk from my Dad’s house.

The best part about visiting (beyond seeing the people I love and miss) was coming home. Stepping off that plane and back onto Canadian soil – or concrete – and realising that I did it, I made it here. I moved countries and it worked out.

I’ve been here nearly two years now, plus an extra year back in 2012 when I came over the first time. I know I belong here, but I will never forget the place that made me.

Manitoulin Adventures: Part Four

After the mess of the first few days, things started looking up. We took another stab at the Cup and Saucer trail and this time the weather was gorgeous. Even better, my good friend came with us and though we got lost a few times on the trail it was so interesting and gorgeous none of us minded all that much.

Oh, by the way – if you’re scared of snakes, scroll quickly past this post. You have been warned.

I wrapped my friend’s scarf around my head (one thing about Manitoulin, it’s impossible to find a hat for a less-than-feminine-haired person) and took so many photographs of trees you’d think I’m writing a book about dryads (uh… I am). The dog was in his element as we made our way through the beautiful trail and took a few wrong turns, including one that showed us tiny raccoon prints in the mud. At this part of the trail my girlfriend dived into the bushes to catch a snake, because that’s her thing.

Of course she caught it. She’s badass. That’s a little garter snake, so cute.

I didn’t make it to the end of the trail, only my girlfriend did. Why? Well… I can barely keep myself upright on flat ground sometimes, and the last part of the trail involved a very steep climb. We sat at the bottom for a while then my girlfriend kept going while we headed back to the car.

Luckily she took my camera with her. This is what it looks like from the top of the Cup and Saucer trail.

After this we went to a craft store run by a M’Chigeeng woman who makes the most wonderful things. I wanted a pair of moccasins but instead I bought a Pendleton blanket with stripes of glorious colour since I’d seen one similar in Providence Bay that was double the price and nowhere near as pretty. It is over my lap as I write this and I love it.

I also bought some tiny moccasins for my nephew who, as it turned out, was born that week.

A shorter, easier trail the next day brought us to Misery Bay, so named because the settlers there hated the amount of mosquitoes and bugs. Fortunately there weren’t many on our trip, and we spent some time on the sand bar looking out into lake Huron. Manitoulin is a beautiful island with many stunning views.

The rest of the vacation was peaceful and enjoyable for the most part. We ate good food (I tried musk-ox! It was awful, let’s stick to its yarn please), had good company, and even the weather brightened up towards the end of the week.

Honestly, I was starting to miss our bed and our quiet.

On the last day we went to Gore Bay and had breakfast in a place that didn’t have any sausages left and there was a whole bunch of yarn based stalls at the local farmer’s market. This is where I found my local yarn, to my utter delight.

I don’t like sharing too much of a sock/yarn when it’s a gift for someone, so here’s a preview. You can see how crisp and crunchy the yarn is. Apparently it’s fluffs up upon washing but I’ve got a thing for a good crunch in my wool so I wouldn’t mind either way.

It’s dyed with indigo and goldenrod which fascinates me. There were many other types of natural dyed wool, including a willow leaf one that I bought. If only she had woad with her!

The dyer is Freshisle Fibres and I suggest you check out the site. There are some lovely yarns there even if the site is a tad retro. The yarn is good and that’s what matters, right?

After stashing away my new yarn acquisition it was time to leave. Oh, Manitoulin. Though I enjoyed visiting, I can’t say I’ll be in a rush to get back there any time soon, not even for the pretty yarn. It’s a strange place and we discovered quite soon that it was better for people who like fishing than anyone else!

Still, no regrets on the trip. I found a lot of happiness there and it was great to have a rest.

Now, back to reality. That part’s less exciting.

Manitoulin Aventures: Part Three

First up: shout-out to Tamara and Devon, since I know you’re reading this now. *waves*

Now back to Manitoulin.

After the disaster in getting our cabin, I still had high hopes for the rest of our Manitoulin trip. After all the scenery was gorgeous and I wasn’t sat in a call-centre getting yelled at by angry people, so it was a one-up on my usual situation.

The first full day… didn’t go swimmingly. We were all tired and a tad grouchy, and nowhere was open. Nowhere. I stayed home while the family went to get gas and many hours later I was completely baffled, though on the plus side I did get most of my book read. When they returned it transpired that they had travelled in circles around the island looking for a gas station until they finally managed to get some. Worse, the GPS was glitching on the island roads and took them in literal circles away from the cabin.

We dusted ourselves off and went to Providence Bay which has a boardwalk. It’s a beautiful place. There are all sorts of rare, interesting plants in the dunes and there’s a great little shop that does delicious ice-cream. The dog loved it.

The sky was clear, the wind was low, and I began to realise what kind of an island Manitoulin is: quiet. It is a bunch of small towns mooshed together between myriad lakes that make everything awkward to get to. Because of its oddity, there’s a strange kind of beauty and peace I’ve never experienced before.

But I knew it would be a nightmare to live there. I’m from a small town on an island myself and even Portland was more bustling and tourist-orientated than this place. Some places on Portland are even open on a Sunday!

After the ice-cream was thoroughly demolished we went back to the cabin. Our evenings there mostly involved eating All The Meat, drinking a beer or five, and occasionally playing a game or watching a movie. Honestly, those were my favourite parts of the trip – beyond one of two highlights. It was great to spend time with everyone.

It was also a lot of fun getting to see so much plant life and wildlife so close. I saw so many dragonflies they became a running theme in my trip.

This wasn’t even zoomed in, the dude let me get this close. Another day, a dragonfly let me touch it before it flew away. I’m thinking of making the dragonfly shawl in honour of the strange little beasties.

From the Ravelry project page for Dragonfly Wings by Boo Knits, photo hers.

The next disaster happened when we went to walk the Cup and Saucer trail, which might actually be the most anglicised version of a First Nations landmark I’ve ever heard – its original name meant ‘barbed hunting spear’ or similar, but unfortunately my Google abilities are failing me and I can’t find the translation.

I was nervous about the walk as I am not steady on my feet at the best of times but I figured I’d give it a go. We drove there, walked five minutes up the beautiful trail, then thunder rumbled and the rain began to pour.

With a sigh and soggy sandals, we turned and went back to the car. My girlfriend kept going but then realised she’d left her phone in the car so ran back to us before we drove away, and we gave up on another day to go hide in our cabin instead.

It hadn’t even drizzled back where our cabin was.

I did what any person would do: I sat on the dock and got embarrassingly, hilariously drunk with my girlfriend’s mum and my friend. For the dignity of everyone involved I will end the post here today and resist posting the photos; they’ll be useful as blackmail material in the future!

Manitoulin Adventures: Part Two

After arriving on the island we drove for nearly an hour around the many lakes to get to our destination, a gorgeous cabin by the lake that came with a row-boat for us to use and was roomy enough for all six of us (and the dog).

Yet as we pulled up to the office our hearts sank at the confusion on the owner’s face, and we soon found out she had double-booked and the others had already moved into the cabin. That left us bereft without anywhere to sleep and little chance of finding a place at such short notice, so we were angry. It was not good.

The lady plied us with beer while she tried to find us accommodation but what she came up with was a trailer park. Um, no. There’s nothing wrong with that but we did not plan for it and we travelled all day with starry eyes at the thought of a cabin by the lake, and that’s what we were going to get.

Fortunately my girlfriend is superwoman and she got us a cabin on the other side of Kagawong Lake that had unexpectedly been freed up and had enough space for us all. They even didn’t mind dogs!

It was half the price of the cabin we wanted and it was… a little old and grimy, but it was fine. It kept us warm and safe when we half-thought we’d be sleeping in our cars, so I loved it right away, even though the floor was so slanted you felt drunk walking across it.

Yes, it was a strange building. Yes, the door slammed every time you forgot to gently press it. Yes, there were bugs in our toiletries. But did I care about that? No. We were surrounded by beauty on a quiet island and even though we were all exhausted with tensions high, I had a lot of hope the week would get better after that.

Sometimes my optimism gets the better of me but why would it not when this was the view from our porch?

I know I said in my last post that I’d be talking about the yarn I bought but I just… can’t. I can’t post the pictures yet because they happened at the end of the trip and I need this to be in order.

Suffice to say that I spent a lot of hours on the first morning sitting on the chair looking out on the dock, knitting the blanket for my nearly-born nephew and life was good.

Unfortunately, Manitoulin was not set to be a purely relaxing vacation.

Manitoulin Adventures: Part One

Though I’ve lived in Ontario for over a year now (and over two years in total if you count the last time), I haven’t seen that much of it. Honestly, I’ve stuck pretty close to Lake Ontario and I’m ashamed of that fact. This province is huge and there’s a lot to explore. Given the chance, I jumped at the thought of a week on Manitoulin island which is further north than I’ve been in Ontario and it looked like a promising place to go.

That all went a little tits up once we got there but in the meantime, let’s talk about the journey.

My friend and her husband drove since I don’t, and my girlfriend and her parents (and the dog) went in another car. It was difficult to get all of our stuff into the two small cars, especially since we were insistent on bringing a couple of board games, yarn, a floaty thing for the water – you know, the essentials. Somehow we managed it and off we trotted down some of the most beautiful roads I’ve seen.

Ontario is beautiful. It was the kind of beauty I took in with my eyes, not my camera – the only pictures I took on that journey are in my last post, minus the photos of the strange concave cloud that looked creepy from far away but like a human vulva when we were underneath it.

No, I’m not sharing the picture of the vulva cloud, even if it was hilarious.

Once we reached Tobermory we waited around in the sunshine for our ferry onto the island. It’s called ‘Chi-Chimaun’ which means ‘big canoe’ in Ojibwe. They had amazing food and a local guy from the M’Chigeeng First Nation who did a little talk on his culture that was awesome.

The ship was one that opens at the front to let you drive in which I’ve always found kind of hilarious. They don’t look as though they should float, yet it did just fine on getting us onto the island.

It was my dog’s first time on the ship and Van was fascinated by the movement. He kept staring at random things as though they were the weirdest thing ever, but he adjusted quickly and made sure to step in every puddle he could find. It was a sheer pleasure having the dog in tow as he’s a good boy and makes everything more fun.

At this point in the story I was convinced it would be the most relaxing week ever. We were going to a beautiful place where no doubt I would have plenty of time to sit on the lake whilst knitting, surrounded by good people and bottles of beer. Though eventually that is what I got, there was a shaky bit at the start. I’ll write about that later.