Tag: journal

Election Dysfunction

We have survived two elections. I won’t go into them too much, as things will remain pretty much the same.

Provincially, the bungling Conservatives dislodged the bungling NDP. The Conservatives will form a majority government. I was surprised, as the Conservatives were rife with infighting and had several members leave the party. The NDP, seeing this, called a snap election, thinking this was their best chance to secure another four year mandate. It was a colossal blunder and cost the NDP the election. It will be interesting to see if the Conservatives can get along and govern. Voter turnout was reported at 48%.

Municipally, the election was even less exciting. Voter turnout was reported at just under 30%. However, turnout was probably even lower, as people living in the bush, in trailers, or eight to a two-bedroom apartment wouldn’t have been counted. In other words, the workers.

Now, if the Mayor and Council were asked why there was such a low turnout, they would answer that everyone in town is as happy as clams with the direction the town is going.

More than likely, however, low voter turnout could signify distrust of local government, with voters thinking the candidates don’t listen to or represent their concerns. Whether they cast a vote or not, that was the attitude of many people I’ve talked to, and it is certainly my opinion.

I don’t worry about it too much. Regardless of the Mayor and Council, and what motivates them, I like to think the District has good people working to deliver the services and infrastructure we need. If you contact the Mayor and Council about these subjects, you will get some blank stares back, if they answer at all. These are not the concerns that motivate them. They are more motivated by business interests and tourism. In short, they are more an arm of the Chamber of Commerce, putting forth business concerns and attracting tourism. They function more as an elected Welcome Wagon. It is in this capacity that their allegiance lies, and it can’t be denied they do an admirable job in that capacity.

On a more serious note, unfortunately, Gerry Taft, who has been on council for half his life, decided not to run. I haven’t always agreed with Gerry’s positions in the past, but the one thing Gerry always did was get back to me if I raised a concern. Now, my queries will continue to be met with silence. It should be noted that the only questions I have are about infrastructure, not business or tourism. Silence is to be expected from the Welcome Wagon.

District of Invermere tap water.

Proof

Dark skies to watch Orion rise. The sky displayed interesting air glow that was detectable to the naked eye, though not as prominent as the camera captures it.

Got off the beaten track, where the bears are ready to call it a season, the elk are moving down and the snow will soon take over turning me on my spindly legs even more awkward then I already am. For now at least we all could get along and watch Orion rise to pursue Hyades and Pleiades.

It wasn’t too cold for a night of stargazing. Orion above is proof the cold is on its way.

The little dog stayed home. Lisa has her on a schedule of when to pee, poop and sleep while in training. Going out all night could set back the training. Lisa says the old dog never did get trained up properly and she doesn’t want to make the same mistake with the little dog. I said, I thought Willow was well trained. Lisa said, she wasn’t talking about that old dog.

Thanksgiving

A low-key Thanksgiving with all the kids in the city. As it turned out, I didn’t have to work much today, so Lisa and I took the dogs for a walk up Delphine. What a spectacular day! Frost in the morning, giving way to blue skies. The leaves are falling in the high country, and the tamaracks are already losing their colour.

Lola is good with Toast, putting up with her constant pestering to play. Toast follows in her footsteps through the bush.

Lola and Toast wanted to follow these tracks up the tree.

Toast is cautious, keeping her nose and eyes busy. She stops at unfamiliar sounds to listen intently. She is learning. She is not as adventurous as Willow was, and that may be a good thing. Willow didn’t have much backdown in her, and she paid for it on occasion.

Toast and I were caught in a pretty good rain the other day, and she wasn’t impressed. I don’t think Willow even recognized rain. They are different hounds.

Lisa and I are so grateful to have had so many adventures with Willow, and we are looking forward to all the adventures ahead with Toast. Having Lola’s calming influence on her is a real benefit.

Lisa enjoyed Delphine Creek. It’s been a while since we last walked there. The creek was clear, the sky was blue, the light shining on Lisa. More than plenty for any man to be thankful for.

Early October

It has been nice for Lisa and me to be enjoying the October air with a little dog cutting this way and that while she learns the smells and sights of the bush.

The garden is pretty much in, except for some beets and a heap of carrots. I am going to pull the carrots, trim and bag them up so Lisa can put up a notice on Facebook announcing free carrots. We have done this before with extra vegetables, and they go fast. We keep them out at the road for people to pick up.

The carrots are Royal Chantenay, short and fat, and look nothing like the carrots you buy in the store. This is why I trim, wash and bag them, so people will take a chance on them. It is surprising how some people will not take fresh garden veggies because they don’t look store bought. Once they taste the Royal Chantenay, they will be hooked. I don’t want a little dirt on them being the deciding factor in whether they are tried.

Only a few frosts in the valley bottom so far. I had a couple of tomato plants that were killed. It seems long overdue. It has been a long while since we have had a killer frost at the end of August.

Cloud and Smoke

Tamaracks

A few drops of rain this morning. They were welcome, as they helped clear some of the smoke. Unfortunately, the Perseids will likely be hidden tonight by smoke and clouds. It’s disappointing, as it seems to be becoming a regular thing to have them obscured by smoke.

This year they fall during a new moon, so under good conditions they would be quite a sight in a dark sky. That’s the way it goes sometimes. Will keep a look out regardless. A hole in the din may develop.

Here are a few pictures of wildflowers from the other day. The names I use may not be proper. Just like creeks and mountains I tend to call them by the names I learned long ago.

Rocky Mountain Heather

Umbrella Plant

Fireweed

Pasque Flower

Smokey Tarn

Red snow algae.

Alpine Forget Me Not

Indian Paint Brush

Arnica

Rock and Snow

A change of plans today. Originally, I was going to hike with Cooper and Scarlett, but the smoke was very bad. Since my heart was set on seeing some rock and snow, and my pack was already loaded with a couple of treats, I set out alone.

This mornings sun filtered with smoke.

The sun came up red at 7:30. Luckily, the trail started in the cool bush and climbed quickly. It always seems to take me an hour or so before I work the kinks out and start to feel comfortable. I spotted a lone black bear cub that scattered quickly into the trees. This is the second one I’ve seen this year without its momma around. Hopefully, she was just off in the bush.

The wildflowers were abundant on the slopes and along the trail; paintbrush, columbine, fireweed, potentilla, violets, white pasque flowers, mountain forget-me-nots, and many others.

The pikas let me know I was intruding once I’d made it into the alpine, while buntings and creepers followed me through the forest. The smoke cleared somewhat at the higher elevation. Looking back down, I could see just how thick it was below. Definitely not a day for the kids.

Rising above the smoke on the trail.

I opted for the back of the basin, keeping close to the mountainside where there was at least a little shade from the sun.

There was still snow in the basin. Being August, perhaps it will remain all year, something I haven’t seen for many years. I always think that if a little snow remained each year, it wouldn’t take long to build the glaciers back. When I say “not long,” I mean geologically speaking, hundreds or thousands of years. The moraine I crossed was once covered in ice. Before that, it lay beneath an ancient ocean. Cracking shale in this area often reveals fossils of sea creatures from that distant time. The Rocky Mountains are full of places like that.

The snow felt good beneath my boots, and I promised myself I’d walk across it on the way back instead of picking my way down the loose rock, which is tough enough going up.

I reached the back of the basin at about 11:30. Time to pissass around, as my father used to say. I wandered among the rocks and flowers and found a small tarn the melting snow had created.

Once I stopped moving, I could hear voices.

There was no way anyone else would be up here. From this perch I would have seen anyone coming or going. I stood perfectly still, slowed my breathing, and there they were again. They were far enough away that I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were voices nonetheless.

Or so I thought.

This went on for a while.

Finally, I stopped once more and calmed my breathing. There they were again, faint, as though carried from somewhere in the distance. I held my breath, trying to catch a word.

The voices stopped.

I started breathing again, and they started up.

Damned if it wasn’t a wheeze in my chest that sounded exactly like distant conversation. Perhaps the smoke was worse than I thought, and the quick ascent had caught up with my lungs. That gave me a good laugh.

Not my favourite to walk on.

As promised I stayed off the rolling rocks on the way down. The sun was unavoidable by then, but it felt good as I crossed the lingering snow. From there I retraced my route through the rocks, into the bush, and down to the creek bottom where I’d left the truck.

Very fine day.

Columbine

Tamarack

Late July

After a day of smoke, tourists and work, it’s good to find a quiet backroad. The huckleberries may be scarce this year, but the stars are as plentiful as ever.

Been spending some time driving the backroads, looking for a little peace and checking the higher elevations to see how the huckleberries are doing.

It doesn’t look like they’ll be nearly as plentiful as they were last year. We just haven’t had the same amount of moisture. I’ll be lucky to gather enough for a few batches of jam.

The valley has settled into summer. There’s smoke in the air, plenty of tourists, and it seems there are more every year. A few fires are burning nearby. We’ve certainly seen much worse.

The garden, on the other hand, is thriving. Squash, peas, beans, lettuce, and potatoes are producing faster than we can keep up with. The tomatoes are just beginning to ripen, and the garlic is ready to come out of the ground. Time to construct a drying rack. Today I pickled a batch of beans, trying to find ways to preserve some of the bounty before it all disappears at once.

It’ll be a busy weekend. I’ll be working, right in the middle of it all.

Mid July

The bright light of Invermere compete with the Milky Way.

There was a time when we used to run up Mt. Swansea and spend the night in the fire lookout. We challenged each other when we were teenagers. Usually booze was involved, as it seemed to be in just about everything if you grew up in the valley.

That lookout could get cold. I remember one of our drunken ascents, waking up freezing in the morning. My friend had wrapped himself in a sheet of plastic he’d found. At first glance, I wondered if he had suffocated himself. Luckily, he’d left just his nose uncovered so he could breathe.

The fire lookout had a mounted scope and a large map of the entire area spread across a table in the middle of the room. If the lookout spotted a fire, they would locate it on the map and radio in the coordinates. The lookouts don’t exist anymore. Satellites, helicopters, and GPS have taken their place. The one on Swansea was dismantled long ago.

The Milky Way through the smoke rises above the Town of Windermere and Lake Windermere.

Tonight, I drove most of the way up and hiked the last section to the summit. The mountain is used primarily for mountain biking now, and I rarely go up anymore. But I figured it would be quiet in the middle of the night, and I was right. There were only rabbits and one owl that silently flew across the trail in front of me, giving me a start just the same. Willow would have taken exception to that.

At the top, I took a few photos from the spot where the lookout once stood. There are definitely more lights now than when I used to run up here. It was a young moon and had set much earlier. There was some smoke and a few low clouds, but otherwise the viewing was good. The lights washed out many of the stars, but the Milky Way could still be seen clearly.

Ready for take off. Several satellites cut through the galaxy.

This may look like a meteor near Perseus, however it is either the International Space Station or the China Space Station. The streak is the distance it moves during the 20 seconds the camera shutter is open. It started very bright then faded.

Old Friends

The old frame with a repurposed matt and rhubarb leaf print done on Environment 110 lb card with printers ink.

I don’t see many people at work anymore. That’s by choice.

My jobs come to me through an app the night before or first thing in the morning, and away I go. With a little planning, it’s easy to schedule jobs for times when people are less likely to be around.

My phone is set to accept calls only from work or immediate family. My bosses contact me through the app. Everything else is screened by AI.

It’s a survival tactic after years of being available at a moment’s notice to everyone, business and personal. This is where I am right now, and it’s working. It means less money, but more peace of mind.

The other day, though, I had two unexpected encounters with old friends.

While pulling into the gas station to refill a propane tank, I noticed a man standing beside a beat-up truck with a jerry can. He was holding a sign asking for gas money. He looked like someone I hadn’t seen in years. As I was leaving, I pulled up behind him. Not completely sure, I walked over and said his name.

He looked at me and replied, “Rob.”

Not many people ever called me Rob. He always had, ever since we met in grade school.

I hadn’t seen him since high school. He was a year ahead of me. He grew up in a small house close to the school with a short fence around it, kept in immaculate condition by his parents, who were wonderful people. He had several siblings.

We talked for a while. He introduced me to his wife, who was sitting in the truck. They were living out in the bush and invited me to stop by if I was ever in the area. I knew exactly where they had set up.

Living in the bush is something more and more people are doing these days. Of course, no one really wants to. The cost of living, especially housing is simply beyond the reach of many people in the valley.

Lisa and I were fortunate to buy our house almost forty years ago, when our money had much more buying power and owning a home was still within reach.

It was good to see him again and to meet his wife. I helped them out with some gas money, or whatever they felt they needed most. Lisa was saddened to hear about their circumstances. We’ll keep an eye out for them through the summer.

It seems that whenever I run into longtime locals, their circumstances are rarely good. Progress and unchecked growth, instead of delivering on their promises, have too often displaced the very people who built this valley.

The second encounter happened only about an hour later.

I pulled into a parking lot beside a Hummer covered in a realtor’s logos. I know the realtor. As far as realtors go, he’s one of the better ones. I saw him walking toward me and thought, Oh shit… I’m going to have to talk to him.

Just then a little beater car came flying into the lot, slammed on the brakes, kicked up a cloud of dust, and blocked both me and the Hummer in.

It was B. I hadn’t seen him in quite a while. He was another I went to school with. We’d also worked together years ago, and I never tired of his sense of humour. He delivered everything, good news or bad, with the same grin. He could get away with saying things no one else could.

The realtor looked more than a little surprised as B threw the car into reverse and cleared a path for the Hummer.

Then we stood there laughing and catching up.

B is on disability now with a bad back. His father had recently died just shy of a hundred years old, and B told me he’d taken to riding his mobility scooter down to the beach.

“Jesus, B,” I said. “You can walk.”

“Sure,” he said. “But this way I’ve always got a chair to sit on.”

That somehow led us onto another cheerful topic – dying.

B told me that years ago his ex-wife had suffered a series of heart attacks and was lying in the hospital on life support. When he went to visit, the staff assumed he was her current husband.

“They asked me what I thought,” he said. “I told them, ‘Pull the tubes. Unplug her. No one should have to live like that.'”

While the staff went to get the doctor, her actual husband arrived.

“He told them not to unplug her,” B said. “‘She’s the only thing I’ve got.'”

B looked at him and said, “That’s bullshit. She’s just another welfare cheque to you.”

I stared at him.

“Holy shit,” I said. “What happened to your ex-wife?”

“Oh, she’s fine.”

“She recovered?”

“Oh yeah. This was years ago.”

“Damn, B,” I laughed. “You almost killed her.”

“Yup,” he said with that same big grin.

Then he peeled away, kicking up the dust that had finally settled since the beginning of our conversation.

I’m still laughing.

It’s good to only see the people you want to.

Mid June

A Highland Cow enjoying the abundant grass.

The garden is on the verge of catching hold. The cucumbers have not enjoyed the rain but are still hanging on as are the tomatoes. Not exactly flourishing though.

A few things came up very spotty. Beets and lettuce for instance, strange as they usually come up like gangbusters. I did use old seed, perhaps that made a difference.

The starlings have vacated the hole in the top of our tree. With the foliage out in full force one could hardly see the hole. The young ones have learned to fly and flown the coop.

My trips in the bush have not been as frequent. Still missing Willow. Lisa has been trying to track down another Wire-Haired Standard Dachshund but they are hard to come by. They are much more popular in Europe. I have joked that I’m going to go to Poland to get a hound. Our Wire-Haired before Willow, Slinky was from Poland. She was also a fantastic dog.

Here are a few pics from June.

A Roundleaf Orchid. I returned to this orchid recently to get a picture of the flowers open and it had been munched off. Flowers are a favourite of bears. There was plenty of sign to confirm this suspicion.

Lola helping me find Orchids along the game trails.

Coral Orchid. These were everywhere and reminded me of Asparagus.

Following a game trail. I often followed game trails when I was young, hunting, but often, just trying to learn from the animals. Where they were going, what routes they chose, where they would dip down for water or rise onto the mountain side, the tracks they left and which animals shared the route. My young self figured they knew the bush better than us, so why not learn from them. Older now I have trouble managing the deadfalls.

Bog Orchid.

An Oldtimer harvesting pine pollen. This was taken on a walk with Lisa, Cooper and Scarlett. The kids asked what pine pollen is good for. I told them it was good for the immune system and can even be used as an aphrodisiac. Cooper wanted to know what an aphrodisiac was, Lisa said it can give a man an erection. Cooper’s response was, “Why would somebody want more of those.”