Blue Skies

Toast gets a run in.

September is a good month. Still no frost in the valley bottom. Soon though, and I’m looking forward to it. Most of the tomatoes and the last of the cucumbers have been picked.

Toast and I piled wood this afternoon. I split a few so she gets used to the sound of the axe hitting a block. She will also have to get used to the sound of the chainsaw. So far nothing seems to scare her. She is a little reluctant with new people, but I don’t mind that.

These days the skies are blue. The tourists have receded somewhat. However, as I write this I can hear vehicles doing burnouts. There is a classic car rally in the valley that brings participants from far and wide. They can’t help it.

I expect the next month or so to be busy as people start realizing they have to get things done before the snow flies.

The trip to Quebec has renewed my interest in Canadian history and I have been reading some old journals and books in the public domain. I’m also rereading The Orenda by Joseph Boyden. Boyden was cancelled in the Canadian literary scene, maybe rightly so, however he sure can write. His books, based on historical events, are from the individuals perspective. That’s what I find interesting. I know dates and how it all panned out, I am interested in what people where thinking and how the world was changing in their eyes.

Boyden did this well in Three Mile Road about a man coming home from the First World War. Some of the stories within the book were similiar to the ones my father and grandfather told. There is an authenticity to his stories. So it is quite ironic that Boyden was cancelled due to his own lack of authenticity. Things change, soon people will be judged by their work or art. That’s not now however.

The moon is growing. I point it out to Toast. She gnaws on a piece of bark and doesn’t look up. I know she feels it though.

Off the ridge.

Quebec

Nortre Dame de Bon Secours Chapel, Montreal, Old Port.

Lisa and I are just back from a trip to Quebec. We spent time in Montreal, Quebec City and the Eastern Townships, where we picked up our new puppy, Toast. Toast is a Standard Wire-Haired Dachshund, the same breed as Willow and Slinky.

We met with the breeder, who runs a kennel at her home and breeds dogs for tracking and hunting; instincts that come naturally to the Wire-Haired Dachshund. We also met Toast’s parents. Her dam was a lovely, very affectionate dog, while her sire was one of the finest examples of the breed I have ever seen. He came from Germany and had won many awards for both tracking and show. He was spirited but kind with us, and I could easily imagine him loving every minute spent in the bush.

The breeder was exceptionally knowledgeable and completely committed to her dogs. She even allowed Lisa and me to stay overnight, which was a welcome relief after walking many miles through the streets of Montreal and Quebec City. We came away very impressed with everything we saw.

World Press Photo Exposition 2026, Montreal.

Before visiting the breeder, we treated ourselves to a holiday in Montreal and Quebec City to celebrate our 40th wedding anniversary. We had to pack very light so were not able to take our camera which would have been phenomenal. Subsequently all photos were taken on our phones.

Our first stop was Montreal, where the highlights were almost too numerous to list. The restaurants, history and welcoming culture were wonderful. We stayed in Old Montreal and spent our days walking through the Old Port, marvelling at the architecture, historic buildings and churches.

Montreal City Hall

On our first day of exploring, we unexpectedly came across the World Press Photo exhibition in Montreal. I knew the exhibition was taking place in the city, but I hadn’t expected us to stumble upon it. Lisa and I are both big believers in letting things unfold rather than planning every step of a trip, and this was one of those fortunate moments.

Downtown Montreal from Mount Royal. A keen eye will spot Leonard Cohen.

We spent several hours looking at some of the finest press and documentary photography in the world. The presentation was exceptional and, at times, heartbreaking. It was impossible to walk through the exhibition without being moved.

Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal.

Another stop was Notre-Dame Basilica of Montreal, where we took in the nighttime light show and learned about the history of this remarkable Gothic Revival church. The light show itself was quite an experience. Lisa and I both agreed it was probably a good thing we weren’t tripping on any substances while watching it.

On another outing, we realized we were close to the cemetery where explorer David Thompson is buried. Again, it wasn’t planned, so we set off to pay our respects to a man whose name is so closely tied to the Columbia Valley and whose journals my father and I spent so many hours studying.

David Thompson’s monument in Mount Royal Cemetery.

We first managed to go to the wrong cemetery. I hadn’t expected two enormous cemeteries to be sitting side by side, but after being pointed in the right direction, we headed farther up Mount Royal. Before long, we were standing in front of David Thompson’s monument. For me, it was certainly one of the highlights of the trip.

Duc De Lorraine French Patisserie & Bistro. We bought a few things here and they were fabulous!

From Montreal, we travelled by train along the St. Lawrence River to Quebec City. We stayed just outside Old Quebec and once again spent much of our time walking and taking in the history around us. It is certainly a very touristy area, but we thoroughly enjoyed it. We gravitated toward the museums, historic buildings and churches. One museum, in Montreal, even took us underground, where we walked through part of the city’s early sewer system and saw the remains of one of its earliest settlements.

Feast your eyes on a petite, curvy beauty, whose feisty retort can really go boom when you light her fuse . . . and to the left of Lisa a canon, Quebec City.

There were so many wonderful sights and experiences throughout the trip that I know we will remember for years to come. But what made it particularly special was experiencing it all with my best friend and the woman I have loved for more than 40 years.

And then there was Toast.

It is wonderful to have a puppy in our lives again. Lisa and I have missed Willow terribly. My excursions into the bush and my nights spent out under the stars simply haven’t felt the same without her beside me.

Training a new dog will be a lot of work, and I expect Toast will be different from both Willow and Slinky. She will have her own personality, her own quirks and her own instincts. We aren’t looking for another Willow. We are looking forward to getting to know Toast for who she is.

And I am especially looking forward to the first time I take her into the bush, let her put that dachshund nose to the ground, and watch her discover a world that already seems to be in her blood.

Stay tuned for Toast.

Early December

Unseasonably warm. Plenty of rain in the last few days with temperatures up to 12°c. Yesterday, I saw worms on the sidewalk. Amazing for December. The ice on Lake Windermere has melted. Surely a cold spell must be coming?

We are told this is remnants of an atmospheric river from the west coast, tamed down, yet still screwing thing up in the Rockies.

It’s difficult to remember such a mild start to December. The way things are going the tourists will be putting their boats back in the lake. Rule number one for the rich; calm water always needs to be churned up, same goes for blue skies.

It could be the new trend, smoke in summer and fall in December.

Willow wades the creek with her full winter coat grown regardless of mild temps.

Mid July

Not a lot of hot weather. Rain in-between sunshine. I’m okay with that. The world’s seemed to have gone strange. I hold onto what’s familiar. Not because it will save me, but because it’s the only thing I know.

The garden is teeming. We can’t grow enough to be self sufficient. Even if I started shooting all the deer around me, it would be a tough go. The new spuds ease the pain of reality, and there’s something cathartic about picking your own lettuce.

We trade with friends; pickles for rhubarb, weed for meat, firewood for jelly. . . it’s a trick we play to think we are beating the system.

If this is all we get I’ll be happy without the heat.

Proposal

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Damn good hike. I’m not used to hiking with so many people, but it was worth it. The dogs got along, that’s important. We headed where I left a coffee cup, used for booze, a few years before. It’s not like me to leave anything behind.

The hills are steep, they always will be.. The snow, hard from the slide, unforgiving, slippery if not careful.

Hunter had it planned. Bree’s Mom and Dad, sister and husband were along. Lisa and I played dumb. Not hard for me.

I was up the week before to check the trail. The snow was hanging on. I figured right, it would be mostly gone by Canada Day, I always think it wouldn’t take many years of chilly weather before the glaciers grew back. It’s too bad we measure everything in lifetimes.

When the time was right Hunter asked his soul mate to spend the rest of their lives together.

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Lisa said from the first time she met Bree she knew her and Hunter would be together forever.

To be able to share such a special day was wonderful.

mid April

RCE_5047 Had to bribe Willow for this picture. She was amply rewarded with a generous piece of breakfast sausage.

It’s never too early to get a truck full of wood. The backroads are still snow covered. Got lucky finding a down pine and fir before heavy snow. Both dry but thawing out. I cut and Lisa loaded. Willow kept the perimeter.

We saw Whitetail Deer, the rivers are clear and I could have brought home fish if the season wasn’t closed. It’s hard to know when we won’t give a shit. For now everything is fine.

Lisa and I talked about the anxiety we have been feeling, especially when the virus first hit, and how we are feeling now. We both can do with a lot less. Still, having a shitload of money stockpiled, including pensions, would be the best defence. Neither, we have, but neither did all our descendants before us.

The grass is greening. I’m looking for garlic to come up.

where’s willow

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Late October

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Was behind the mountains where we used to catch fish in the streams. Where we sipped the cold water from the spring beside the trail. How we used to look forward to it on a hot day after exploring the back country, or hunting for deer and elk, sometimes we only came home with chicken. I remember thinking, if it wasn’t for all these damn trees I’d be able to see something to shoot at.

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Now the trees are large and I wonder sometime if they were always there. Every trip it’s like I’m seeing them for the first time. Same as the ridges, the way the light hits them. It’s cold in the creek bottom, dark and icy, but those ridges basked in the last light look mighty inviting.

I don’t go far, never have, there is still plenty of ridges, I haven’t walked, without ruck or crowd, right under my nose. Tamarack, old, hard, and twisted. Scree slopes, waterfalls, fish behind rocks, mountains that change depending on the light, enough for 10 lifetimes if you had four sets of eyes.

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It’s getting chilly. The snow is on the mountains. You could die if you break your ankle, freeze if you fall through the ice, get lost in the crooks and crags, too scared to move in the dark.

Who needs a jet plane to explore? When you can count on the stars.

either or

Two Boxers got on Willow, she realized she was in trouble and was fighting back. I saw it from inside and ran out. A couple boots and I picked up Willow. This is not what you are supposed to do when your dog is being attacked by other dogs.

The Boxers where persistent. They snapped at her. Unlike some of the other fights I’ve been in I had to use both feet. I hit them in the chest. I was out of breath by the time the Boxers ran off.

I knocked a Rottweiler out once, when I was a youngster I was bitten plenty, I kicked him right under the chin. The clack his teeth made was like the sound when a good punch lands. It was square. Never planned.

He stumbled around for awhile and retreated.

It can go either way. That’s dogs for you when they remember they were once wild.

story time

An hilarious day. The sky cleared during the night and got down to minus 10. I got to work early to enter yesterdays jobs because the computer wasn’t working the day before.

The groundsman came in next and said, fuck it’s cold, I hope the irrigation didn’t freeze.

Next, the young guy came in and said, what should I do?

Since I ain’t the boss, I said, whatever.

The groundsman said, go check for ice.

We hadn’t had any moisture during the night so that meant, driving around in the cold looking busy till light.

The young fellow radioed and said, we are going to need more salt to melt the ice.

I said, you have two buckets.

He said, they are already used.

He also said, you guys should come out here.

When we got there, every sidewalk and staircase was covered in a thin layer of ice. It looked pretty in a Disney kind of way. . . and dangerous. I imagined someone coming out of their building looking to the brilliant morning sky and stepping on the walk and going ass over tit.

I said, what the fuck is this.

The groundsman said, shit, I forgot to turn off the irrigation.

The sprinklers had turned the resort to ice.

The inventory of salt was in storage a mile away waiting for winter. Since the managers and supervisors with keys to the storage don’t get in till sun up. I grabbed the bolt cutters, jumped in the truck, and got the salt.

We poured a shit load of salt on the resort and had everything thawed by the time the guests awoke and the managers arrived.

Of course, I will have to explain a cut lock at the storage unit, but I’ll think of something.

The groundsman, still walked into the lunch room at 9 am and used the toaster to make toast and peanut butter, even though we don’t take coffee breaks, like nothing had happened. If I was him I would have been ducking my head.

The young guy impressed me, once the sun was out he swept up all the remaining salt. It looked like nothing had happened.

Not bad, I say, for three guys getting paid a pinch more than minimum wage.

The rest of the day was pure sunshine.

Palliser Pass

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