Some say life is like a roll of toilet paper… the closer we get to the end, the quicker it goes. At sixty-nine years of age, I’m spiralling towards the end at a fair clip. If I’m lucky, family genetics and our great BC medical care might drag my carcass across the ninety year line. Hopefully, unless I can’t walk or talk, see or hear anything, then a different outcome might arise.

Not only has covid continued to cause havoc around the world, but some days my healthy body, depending what lump of life you compare me to, doesn’t feel at its best. I still walk an average of three kilometers a day to keep burning all the calories I consume, and feel good doing so. Even up numerous flights of stairs. But more and more, my trusty old hands give me trouble. And I love writing cursive so that’s a concern for me. Still, as long as I can walk and as long as I know who I am or why I walked into the other room, life has to be considered good.

My writing stalled dramatically when I battled the unseen forces of corruption on my laptops. I inadvertently spread the problem from one to the other and often my misunderstanding of how the technology works compounded the issue. However, I kept my old guy cool, and have learned from my errors. I’m back writing and looking forward to building a story that most might enjoy reading. Found a writing app to help me craft as good as I can and a fair price on a new Chromebook. No outside corruption allowed.

I miss the remote forest a great deal. Can hardly wait to return. And the nightly star display. And silence, absolute silence. Maybe a distant raven telling a story. The rapid vibration of humminbird wings as a Rufous checks out my red bandana. I grew up in the country, if indeed I grew up at all, and need more open spaces and nature in my life. But for now, I appreciate living in close proximity to my children and grandchildren. And health care. Yet I know I will search again for lost gold in the rugged forest.

Years ago I read a quote saying gold waits for the right person to find it. I say, if you believe it, you can make it happen. As I enter my tenth year of this incredible adventure, I look forward to the only conclusion I ever thought possible, a successful one.

About James

As a semi-retired senior, I researched the story of the lost gold bars of Camp McKinney. My years in agriculture allowed me to comfortably search the rugged BC forest uncovering valuable clues over the years. Although I have paid a high cost for my unwavering search, I have once again seen the magick and power in nature.
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