October 3 - A Monthly Report

Today I am beginning a new trend. Instead of posting on the blog as often as I have been doing so far, my intention for the next while at least is to make a monthly summation. I have very much appreciated everyone who has been so faithful in checking in to see the latest White Cane Connections news reports, but now I think that the blog is due for a change. Initially I had thought about closing the blog altogether, but I am still out there tapping away with my cane, still meeting new and interesting people, and still having my own white cane adventures.  

Nevertheless, I feel that the time for change is right. If you read the last post, you will know that it is a year and a half since the White Cane Connections walks got underway, and already a full year since Cape Spear. I’m not sure what my next project might be, or indeed if there will even be one to write about.  Perhaps just getting on with life with limited eyesight is a project in itself. There is often an unanticipated challenge around the corner.

I am hopeful that the learning journey will continue. I have learned much over the past eighteen months. I have enjoyed writing about my experiences and telling you some of the stories that others have shared with me.

I plan to write my next post during the first week of November and I will look forward to meeting you again with a new surge of energy on my part and with more stories to tell.

Sue

September 26 - Back to the Beginning

It has been a year and a half since Lyle and I were in Sechelt, and a year almost to the day since I finished the walking segment of the White Cane Connections project on Cape Spear, the most easterly point of North America. The journey across Canada took us through eighty-two different communities and we met hundreds of people, all of whom were eager to promote an awareness of white canes and the challenges encountered by people who use them. It was an inspiring journey and it was good to go back to the beginning and revisit the friends we had made in Sechelt.

Bill Conway encouraged me from the very beginning. In fact, it was his idea to begin my white cane journey in Sechelt. He said that everyone began their marathon cross country journeys in the big cities and that I should do something different by starting in a small town. It was an excellent suggestion. Sechelt’s Mayor John Henderson declared the day of our walk, White Cane Awareness Day, and with over twenty others joined me for the inaugural walk.  The date was March 23, 2012 and the day was a total success.

Bill’s suggestion was beneficial in other ways.  Across Canada, Lyle and I planned to stop and walk in many smaller communities. As it turned out, it was a wise decision. For the most part, it was in these centres that the project had the most support and received the best media coverage. 

It was good to meet up with Bill again. He is quite the marvel. He is a passionate advocate on behalf of people who are blind. He is constantly on the go, speaking with groups and assisting individuals. A few years ago, Bill and his dog guide walked the entire length of the Sunshine Coast Highway raising funds for Guide Dogs. Bill personifies the image of a blind person who is both capable and independent. 

Our meeting this past week had another nostalgic dimension.  Standing beside Bill was Captain Midnight, Bill’s faithful canine guide.  The Captain is nearing the end of his working life, and Bill has found a new home for him. In another month or so Captain Midnight will begin his retirement  with a seven year old girl and her family, and Bill will be ready for  a new pair of eyes with a new guide dog – his eighth.

While we were in Sechelt I had been invited to speak with the local White Cane Support Group. This group is affiliated with CCB, the Canadian Council for the Blind. During the White Cane Walks, I had met other groups and individuals who belonged to this association. Probably the most memorable was my meeting with the national president, Louise Gillis.  Louise lives in Sydney, Nova Scotia and when I walked there she had gathered other Sydney CCB members to walk with us. It was a great day. The group also belonged to a blind curling team and when we met, they were wearing their special Sydney White Cane Curling t-shirts. Not only that, we beat the hurricane weather by a good half day and managed to do the walk in dry, almost sunny conditions. 

In Sechelt, we met again with Margaret who is president of the local group there. The group in Sechelt was similar in size and age demographics to the one I lead in Alberta and it was good to exchange ideas with Margaret. That night after the meeting, Lyle and I had supper with Bill, Margaret and Trevor. We had stayed at Trevor’s home on our first visit to Sechelt and I was delighted to see him again. Trevor is a WW II veteran, a world traveller, and a great conversationalist. It was an excellent evening and I can only hope that there will be an opportunity for a repeat visit at some point in the future.

There are two pictures accompanying this post. The first is of Bill and Captain Midnight. The Captain is a large black lab well suited to Bill’s tall frame.

The second picture from left to right shows Margaret, Bill and myself.  The Captain is patiently sitting in front of Bill.

 

Bill and Captain Midnight

Margret, Bill, and Sue

September 19 - Lost at Sea

In my last post, I wrote how I became lost in a campground. Today’s story is about Lyle, with a postscript that includes a lesson for me.

The Sunshine Coast is connected to the mainland by the BC Ferry system. By Thursday, Lyle and I had already taken several ferry trips and I was feeling comfortable enough to leave my white cane in the car for the forty minute trip between Langdale and Horseshoe Bay. We climbed the fifteen stairs from the car deck to the main deck and then another fifteen stairs to the sun deck. It was a beautiful day but Lyle decided that he should return to the car, get our iPad and check email. He left me enjoying the sun and the cool breeze which drifted across the water.

Lyle returned down the two flights of stairs, retrieved the iPad and meandered around the ship looking for a good Internet connection. He became engrossed in his task and it was a surprise when he heard the loudspeaker announcement that the ship would soon be docking and passengers were to return to their vehicles.  Lyle shut down the computer and hurried back to the sun deck.  Other passengers were making their way downstairs, but there was no sign of me.  He wondered if I had decided to go to the ladies washroom, so he made his way there and waited outside the door. I didn’t come out.  Perhaps, he thought, I might have asked someone to assist me back to the car deck, so he rushed back to our vehicle.  I wasn’t there either.  By now he was getting worried.  He was sure that I was lost and he decided that he should contact one of the crew.

Now, you might be wondering what I was doing while all this was going on.  Naturally, I had no idea of Lyle’s frantic search.  Where was I? Well, I was precisely where Lyle had left me.  Our arrangement should we ever become separated, is that I should stay put, and Lyle should find me.  Even when the other passengers left the sun deck and I was there alone, I remained exactly where I was.  It was not until I heard another loudspeaker announcement that I decided to move.

The loudspeaker called my name and asked that I make myself known to any crew member.  By this time, not only were there no passengers on the sun deck, there were no crew members either.  There was nobody.  I knew that I had to make a move.  I found the door to the stairs, glad that I had counted them on the way up, and made my way to the main deck.  There was still nobody in my range of vision so I began calling out.

“It’s me,” I  shouted.  “Can anyone hear me?  Are there any crew about who can hear me?”

The story does have a happy ending.  One of the crew heard me, and took me to where Lyle was waiting with one of the stewards.  Just in time, as it turned out.  Lyle had just been informed that he would need to move the car without me and that there would then be a search for me and I would be brought off as a foot passenger.  Lyle and I made it back to the car deck just as the line of vehicles began to move.

So, here is the explanation. The large BC Ferry was of a mirror image design back and front.  Lyle left me   on a series of benches in front of a large ship’s funnel. He didn’t realize that at the other end of the ship there was also a series of benches in front of a large funnel.  In his meanderings to find the Internet connection, he had become disoriented, confusing the back of the ship with the front.

Now for the postscript.  When Lyle went to report my mysterious disappearance to the crew, he had to say that I was blind but that I wasn’t using my white cane.  For me, the lesson was the same.  When we were separated, I didn’t have my cane with me.  If I had, I am sure that my trip down the stairs might have been a lot less panicky. Possibly too, I might have been easier to spot when people were looking for me.  Needless to say, there are no pictures with this post.

September 16 - Tenting

During the week that Lyle and I spent on the Sunshine Coast, the weather was perfect.  It was great weather for camping and Lyle and I had decided to tent.  We both enjoy the tenting experience but we are also the first to admit that we are fair weather campers.  This past week, the weather could not have been better.

One night as we sat around our campfire, Lyle and I began reminiscing about some of our more memorable tenting experiences. We remembered the tenting trip we had taken on the way back to Alberta after visiting our daughter in Ontario. Of the eight nights we spent in our tent, there was rain on every one of them. On one night we were caught on the edge of a tornado. On another night there was a massive thunder and lightning storm breaking a drought of the previous forty days.

Still, we have had many good times and we continue to tent. Nevertheless, for me there are also some sight challenges. Usually the biggest difficulty is finding my way from our own campsite to and from the comfort station or outhouse.  I can think of one night in particular that stands out in this regard.

We had arrived at our campground late and were assigned the last available site.  It was the least desirable of all the sites for many reasons, one of which was the distance from the comfort station. Before we tucked into our sleeping bags, Lyle and I practiced the route from tent to comfort station just in case I needed to get up during the night. As it turned out, this was indeed what happened.

Around five in the morning I crept out of the tent in the predawn light. It was easy enough to find my way downhill to the well-lit washroom block but coming back to our little tent in the semi dark was a different story.  Not only that, unknowingly I had exited the building using a different door from the one where Lyle and I had practiced and counted my steps the night before.

In the early morning hours, I hadn’t gone far when I realized I was lost. Of course, the smart thing to do would have been to retrace my steps immediately.  I didn’t and continued to become more and more disoriented.  It would have made no difference whether or not I had been using my white cane. A cane only works if you have some idea of where you are going.  In addition, at five in the morning, there was nobody around to see the cane and so assist me with directions.

The story does have a happy ending.  Eventually, after many minutes of aimless wandering, I found my way back to the comfort station and tried again, this time from the appropriate exit door.  I counted my steps and almost by accident spotted the bright orange tarp at our camp site and crawled back into the tent. I might add that when the first half hour had gone by, Lyle did miss me. The problem as he later explained it was that although he knew I had been gone longer than I should have been, he had no idea of where to begin looking for me.

I suppose that in a way, someone who can see could have a similar misadventure. The difficulty for someone who is blind or who has limited sight is that we are unable to see the print markers and other directional signs that sighted people are able to use for a reference.

The picture below shows me kneeling beside our tent where we camped on the Sunshine Coast. I didn’t get lost here, but I was hoping that there wouldn’t be a bear on the track between our tent and the shower block. That’s another thing that I might not be able to see in time! 

Sue in front of her tent

September 14 - The Sunshine Coast

For the past few days Lyle and I have been travelling on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia. The weather has been perfect and I thoroughly recommend this coastline as a holiday destination.

On Sunday and Monday we travelled both by road and BC Ferries to Mile Zero of Highway 101 to the picturesque village of Lund. The village was originally settled by two brothers from Sweden and at first was only accessible by water. We took the ferry from Vancouver’s Horseshoe Bay, drove past Gibson and Sechelt to Earl’s Cove where we took another ferry to Saltery Bay. From there, the highway leads through a forested region into Powell River and then on to Lund.

Of course, you might wonder what took us to this particular spot. It is definitely isolated.  Lyle and I are fortunate to have a friend who lives in Lund for a good portion of the year. Ron was a member of our White Cane Support Group in Alberta and we have kept in touch. Because Ron is also visually impaired, he and I share an understanding of what it is like to be a tourist who is visually challenged.

People with little or no sight can still take enjoyment from being a tourist. For instance, in Lund, although I couldn’t see the mountains across the bay, I could hear the waves rippling onto the rocks. I could hear the seagulls splashing in the fresh water of the creek and the occasional barking snort of a seal in the water. Together, Lyle, Ron and I enjoyed coffee and cinnamon buns while we sat outside in the sunshine at Nancy’s Bakery. On the previous evening we had had a great seafood meal at the Boardwalk Restaurant. Because we were the last to leave, the staff gave us each a little key chain flashlight to find our way back home in the dark. I think that the idea was that we could also find our way back to the restaurant again on another occasion. Nevertheless, the light from the flashlight was tiny and I was glad I had my cane with me.

The pictures below show just a snippet of life in this peaceful village.  In the first picture I am standing beside Ron in front of the old hotel near the Mile Zero marker. In the second picture we are standing on the boardwalk which leads around the harbour area. Lyle took this one from the top of a steep stairway which we had clambered down to reach the water. Fortunately the stairs had rails on both sides. The last picture is a view of the many small boats in the harbour. I liked Lund for many reasons, and so did Ron. I think that one of the reasons for its appeal was that it was so easily accessible to us as pedestrians.  

Ron and Sue in front of hotel

 

Sue and Ron on the boardwalk

 

Lund harbour