Now that you are Fifty (or over)....

[Northern Dancer]

Throughout most of my life, I've been told what to do.
It's okay I suppose because I've met a lot of wonderful people along the way
and done some fabulous things and accomplished goals.
I'm happy and well. But there were times that I thirsted
for the things that mattered to me most.
One of those things was the lure of
the great outdoors.
​

I'm lucky. I use to scan the catalogs wanting this piece of equipment or that tent but didn't have the cash to buy anything. Now I've got them. It took a few years, but I got my prospector extra light Kevlar canoe. I now have the time and resources and the resilience to do my thing. There are places to see and people to meet, and adventures to pursue - and I do.

Then one day, for no apparent reason, I had this downer thought that just trashed my spirit and challenged the things that I really enjoyed and cared about. I reached fifty. I was too old for this camping/canoe stuff. WHAT! One of the most incredible, dumbest, stupidest thoughts I've ever entertained in my life.

You got the passion, you got the desire, you got the hunger? Do it!

Oh, and another thought, to the young
guys out there - it's okay to dream, but capturing
those dreams and wrestling them to the ground and making them a reality
is what champions are made of.

"Just sayin."




It's out there - just waiting.




​

 

[jason]

Reminds me of this passage from a book I read many years ago.

It is good to be home. It is good to hear the wind of Icewind Dale, to feel its invigorating bite, like some reminder that I am alive.
That seems such a self-evident thing-- that I, that we, are alive -- and yet, too often, I fear, we easily forget the importance of that simple fact. It is so easy to forget that you are truly alive, or at least, to appreciate that you are truly alive, that every sunrise is yours to view and every sunset is yours to enjoy.
And all those hours in between, and all those hours after dusk, are yours to make of what you will.
It is easy to miss the possibility that every person who crosses your path can become an event and a memory, good or bad, to fill in the hours with experience instead of tedium, to break the monotony of the passing moments. Those wasted moments, those hours of sameness, of routine, are the enemy, I say, are little stretches of death within the moments of life.
[cut out some stuff]
We are all dying, every moment that passes of every day. That is the inescapable truth of this existence. It is a truth that can paralyze us with fear, or one that can energize us with impatience, with the desire to explore and experience, with the hop--nay, the iron will!-- to find a memory in every action. To be alive, under the sunshine or under starlight, in weather fair or stormy. To dance every step, be they through gardens of bright flowers or through deep snows.
The young know this truth so many of the old, or even middle-aged, have forgotten. Such is the source of the anger, the jealousy, that so many exhibit toward the young. So many times have I head the common lament, "If only I could go back to that age, knowing what I now know!" Those words amuse me profoundly, for in truth, the lament should be, "If only I could reclaim the lust and the joy I knew then!"
[cut out some more. ]
But I can be patient and convince myself of the best. For to brood upon my fears for him, I am defeating the entire purpose of my own life.
That I will not do.
There is too much beauty.
There are too many monsters and too many rouges.
There is too much fun.

 

[Cappy]

I was gona read this but we got home late. after a couple deep swallows from the quart jar I am calling it night.

calling it a night and may God bless

 

[Roybrew]

Wow. I don't what to say about this. I'll be 55 in March, and I still ain't figured out what I want to do when I grow up.

 

[Northern Dancer]

Wow. I don't what to say about this. I'll be 55 in March, and I still ain't figured out what I want to do when I grow up.

-----> and that's just fine. I saw a bumper sticker a way back that said, "If I haven't grown up by the time I'm sixty-five - do I have to?"

 

[ppine]

We are only young once,
But we can be immature as long as we want.

I was a man of steel until age 56 when I broke my femur. That took 4 years to get back to backpacking. Now I am 69 and go slower, but I still go.
I don't go out there just because I like it, I have to go.

 

[Northern Dancer]

...that's tough ppine. I broke a collar bone away back - not a lot of fun. But a femur is big-time stuff.

I'm more than fortunate and very much blessed in life to enjoy the many interests and outdoor activities I follow.

 

[Northern Dancer]

Funny how things go. A colleague sent me this picture recently when I was 16. I was a fearless Leader for the Toronto West End YMCA's Camp Norval. Great times, great memories, great friends. So...what were you doing when you were 16?

 

[jason]

Hmmm... Sixteen. Working for a grocery chain, going to school and living with my parents. I think this may have been slightly before I was 16, but cannot remember. But we had a storm come through with no warning, and we woke up to water on the back door. You can see the dock came apart and is on our back yard.