riding the blueberry express

I've been doing a lot of trail riding on my mountain bike the past two years, but every new (to me) trail is still a thrill. Today Doug and I rode the full 14.5 km length of the Musquodoboit Rail Trail, and the views were stunning. It might be my favourite ride yet.

The Rail Trail began life as a CNR branch line in 1916. The tracks were scrapped in the 1980s.

Bayer Lake

The Musquodoboit Trailways Association website says "According to local stories, the line was affectionately named the 'Blueberry Express' by passengers, because the train was so slow that travelers aboard could get out, pick blueberries along the way, and hop back on!"

Kelly's Meadow

Kelly's Meadow Bridge

There are a few picnic tables along the trail... This one was the site for our lunch break.

It featured a park bench...

with a lovely view of the Musquodoboit River.

Then it was back to the trail...

with its helpful signage.

I get excited when I read about the panoramic views afforded by the various hiking trails that connect to the rail trail. Check out the location of that look-off! I am definitely going back. Anyone up for a steep 4-hour hike?

summer, oh summer, where did you go?

you're living all over me, again.

Dinosaur Jr. delivered the frickin' goods at the Marquee Club last night. Although I didn't get to hear my personal fave "The Post," they played what was otherwise as comprehensive a back-catalog ('83-'89) set list as I could have hoped for. I would blather on at length about J Mascis' guitar godhood but haven't you heard it all before? The fact is, though, that it's true.

This little original lineup tour has got to be the best indie-rock reunion in a long time. At least, until next weekend. Chicago, here I come!

I killed the planet.

So, it's Labour Day, and I have a car rented for the weekend, but after two straight days of road trippin' the south shore of Nova Scotia I decided to keep it on the couch for a day. I got halfway through Muslim Societies in African History and somehow segued into watching the football game when it occurred to me that a good use of the rental would be to go fetch myself a burger and poutine from Harvey's. Yeah, seems like a good return on my fifty-dollar investment.

(I sincerely miss Harvey's burgers, I must confess. I still resent the way that McDonald's muscled a veritable Canadian institution off Spring Garden Road, and since I don't own a car, there's really no location anymore that I find convenient. So it's been months since the last time I got my flame-broiled burger on.)

Ten minutes and $8.64 later, the girl was handing me my bag-o-food through the drivethrough window and I thought to myself, "That feels pretty heavy for just a burger and poutine." I continued to wonder about the extra weight as I sat at a traffic light behind a car bumper-stickered "Real Men Love Jesus."

I came home, poured myself a can of Sapporo (what is football, a burger, and poutine without beer?) and opened the magical brown paper bag, instantly solving the mystery. Here is what I found in addition to my burger, poutine, and plastic fork:

• 3 packets of vinegar
• 10 (!) packets of ketchup
• 6 packets of salt
• 6 packets of pepper

and last, but not least

• 21 napkins.

That's twenty-one napkins, folks.

Now that we've observed that brief moment of silence for the two trees that went into my meal packaging, I just want to ask... who adds ketchup to their poutine? That's just gross. But really, suppose some of you like a little ketchup with your poutine... who adds ten packages of ketchup to anything?

I have enough condiments now to get me through the next week.