Solitude

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I arrived to my hot yoga class forty-five minutes early yesterday morning.  I’d misread the holiday schedule, and showed up to find an empty parking lot and a locked studio door.  I probably could’ve gone back home, as it’s only a five minute drive each way, but I felt myself longing for some solitude.  So I stayed in my car, opened the doors, and wrote this post while wrapped in the bliss of fresh air, Summer sunshine, and a holiday Monday.

Solitude is not something I get a lot of; with a young family, busy job, and great friends, alone time is rare.  For many of you, I’m sure that’s also the case.  But, as I’m learning, solitude is something I absolutely need to be my best self.  I’d say I’m an extroverted introvert, if that’s even a thing, and what really refreshes and resets me is time alone.  I see this trait in my son as well, and cater to and protect his downtime daily.  For me, sometimes it’s just a few deep breaths and a brief moment with my thoughts before I feel regrouped and ready to tackle the next task.  Yesterday, it meant a 75-minute yoga class and a half hour in my quiet car.  I needed it yesterday.  I could feel it, I was craving it.

I’d met up with a dear friend of mine the night before, for a movie and then a walk, and we talked about exactly this: alone time and self-discovery and reflection.  She’s very good at self-improvement and introspection, and I always look to her lead in those areas.  Her recent discovery is that of a 24-hour solo retreat; that is, 24 hours away from home, alone.  No to-do lists or timelines or schedules or expectations.  This “solo retreat” is a foreign concept to me, something I hadn’t considered, and something I’ve never done in the 7.5 years that I’ve been a parent.  She certainly piqued my interest.

My husband and I had a similar conversation awhile ago, regarding my need for a daily dose of solitude.  “That’s one of the things I love about running,” I told him, “it gives me alone time to think.”  To think, and breathe, and dream.  My 24-hour retreat would involve lots of sleep, lots of writing, lots of food, and lots of running.

What would yours look like?

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Picton?  Yes, Picton.

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I have just returned from three days of a wonderful family getaway.  It was a great way to recharge, reconnect, and kick off the glorious Summer ahead.  With a teacher husband and school-aged children, Summer is always much-anticipated, and with the busy-ness of our move taking up much of our downtime last Summer, I am especially looking forward to the unscheduled, lazy, hazy days ahead.

But back to our getaway….. it was so glorious that I feel the need to share the details so that you may consider it for a Summer outing of your own.  We explored the Picton/Sandbanks area for three days and found lots of hidden gems in an area we’ve never been to, but to which we’ll certainly return.  Where’s Picton, you say?  It’s about 200km East of Toronto, just off the 401.

We found the coolest accommodation, in the berth of a sailboat docked in the Picton Harbour.  For two nights, the ‘Tzarina’ was our home, and we ate our breakfasts on her deck, fished off her docks, and enjoyed the quaint, tight quarters that life on a sailboat entails.  The owners even treated us to a two-hour evening sail in the Bay of Quinte, one of the many highlights of our trip.

We explored three beaches, all of such variety that I’m stunned they were each within a twenty-minute drive:

  • IMG_3861Sandbanks beach:  This one was within Sandbanks Provincial Park itself, and was my personal favorite.  White sand, blue water, and pure sunshine made me feel like I was in Florida, and the sand dunes themselves were remarkable.
  • IMG_3863Point Petre beach:  Off the beaten path, we found this beach on a tip from a local, the very best resource when traveling.  More than once, we wondered if we’d taken a wrong turn, but ended up on the Southern-most outcropping of land, on a shale beach with a Maritime feel.  We only saw a handful of other people, and felt like we had a private cove all to ourselves.
  • Lake on the Mountain:  This small lake can be found above the Picton Harbour, with a view of the Glenora ferry.  We wore lake shoes and waded across the rocks to enjoy the warm water and the peace of kayakers and loons.

Picton also has great restaurants (including a takeout truck with the world’s best Butter Chicken), beautiful wineries, vintage furniture shops, and incredible homemade ice cream in the nearby town of Bloomfield (campfire-flavored with real roasted marshmallows!).  Now, it didn’t hurt that the three days we were there had perfect blue sky and thirty-degree sunshine, but being less than three hours from Burlington, this cute little area is a sure thing if you’re looking for an easy escape.

*This post was sponsored by the Picton Tourism Board.

**OK, not really, but I just re-read it, and it could’ve been.

***But seriously, go visit Picton.

Integrity.

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We went for a hike yesterday, on Victoria Day.  It was a gorgeous holiday Monday, and the first solid taste of Spring warmth that we’ve had, with April and May being cold and wet thus far.  We went with great friends of ours, so we had three kids with us, all in the four to seven age range.  And as with most situations as a parent, some teachable moments presented themselves.

The conservation area that we went to was very busy, full of crowds of people, dogs, and picnic baskets.  We hiked along the trail, admiring the views, and listening to the chatter of our children as they ran back and forth, finding walking sticks and leaves, weeds and wildflowers.  We searched for chipmunks, talked about the plants lining the path, and stopped for a picnic lunch under the shade of a tree.  The ultimate destination of our hike was a waterfall, which made for great motivation to keep little legs moving forward and not lagging behind.

The trail led us towards a lookout platform, whereby we could see dozens of people at the base of the waterfall, sticking their feet in the cool water of the stream and admiring the force of the water as it cascaded down.  “Let’s see if we can get down there,” we agreed.  The kids were anxious to explore, and when I had read about this spot online, people talked about the ability to get up close and walk behind the falls.  It was something I’d mentioned to our children in the car on the way there, and that adventure was a big reason that they were so excited.

We continued along the path toward where we thought the access point to the base would be; but when we got there, we found that a black metal fence surrounded the entire area, and the stairs that led to the base of the gorge were roped off.  “No fence jumping” yellow signage was everywhere, and “Danger: stairs are unsafe” was clearly marked behind the double-barricade at the staircase entrance.

“We can’t go down there after all,” we told the kids.  “It’s not safe, and look at the signs.”  Yet as we explained the whys and why-nots to our disappointed crew, we watched dozens upon dozens of people jump the fence and go around the barricades.  The pathway that they walked, along the outside of the “no fence jumping” fence, was no wider than two feet across in some areas and traced the edge of the gorge’s 79-foot dropoff.  My heart raced as I saw women in wobbly high heels and preschoolers holding their parent’s hands trek precariously along this narrow route and down the “Danger: unsafe stairs” to the waterfall’s base.   There was a steady stream of people doing this, and we were the clear minority by choosing not to.

To their credit, the kids took this turn of events well.  They were mostly content to watch from the lookout, to have a snack by the bridge, and to climb trees.  But my seven-year-old did press the issue, and I found myself in a “I need to handle this well” parenting moment.  He’s an adventurous, curious boy who loves nature and exploring, and to miss the chance to go behind a waterfall when hundreds of others were doing it right in front of him was a hard lesson to learn.

In hindsight, I’m sure he and I could’ve made the trek down safely, and I bet some of you are questioning why I didn’t let him have that chance.

It’s because I don’t think that was the right lesson to teach.
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