Archive for August, 2006

I’m proud to be a Canadian. Although my family has only been here for 5 generations on both sides, I feel that this is home. I’m not a hyphen Canadian, just Canadian.

I do despaired with the direction that the present government is taking particularly with respect to the middle east. Whether it was the biased one sided stand on the recent conflict between Lebanon and Israel, or our troops moving from a peace keeping to front line pawns in Afghanistan.

I would not be upset if our government had decided that these actions, were/are the best for Canada and Canadian’s. Unfortunately I feel that the choices that are being made are to fit into another country’s global interests.

I wonder if when President W. Bush calls Prime Minister S. Harper up and says “Jump!“, he replies “How high?


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BC Ferries

Ok so what are you supposed to do with this tap then?

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How to F’ up

how to Fuck up

It is an easy thing to do. All you really have to do is lose sight of the future & focus soley [sic] on the present. By having a single focus, you’re on the road to Fuck up. I have lost contact in many ways with the future. It is easy to see the immediate and flow with your feelings of the moment. Another way to truly F up is not to listening to your gut feelings, to that little voice inside. It is easy to ignore (even when it is screaming) But ultimately with time you will hear it say “I told you so!”

As I sort through boxes I have found little tidbits of time gone by. Love letters to (never sent) and from a few girls some forgotten, many remembered fondly. As well as number of journals that I kept throughout university. That little tidbit I wrote in my first year of University. I don’t remember what I had done at that point but it still rings true.

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Long Road

Yesterday I moved today I’m a hollow shell. Up until yesterday there was always a slim glimmer that Nancy and I would work out. The finality of the end was not there. Now it is.

I don’t think I realized how much I would be affected. We had been emotionally split with one another for over a year, so I thought that moving out would be relatively easy. Sure a little painful, but not soul draining.

I don’t think that I have felt this way before, I feel hollow. It is a very bizarre feeling. Not one that I would recommend. There isn’t even an inkling of my fun loving, creative, spontaneous self. The lights are truly on, but really there is nobody home.

All I have left is a wall of boxes and an ugly although comfortable orange chair.

What am I supposed to do now. I’m not even looking forward to work tomorrow and seeing friends.

They say that it takes males longer to get over a relationship than females, sometimes as long as 7 years. I hope that this long road is not all like this.

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After dark
Last Tuesday I left Powell River and headed across Vancouver Island to the small fishing and forestry community of Bamfield. For three years of my life I was a marine biologist studying the growth dynamics of a reclusive seaweed call gelidium. Although not the most exciting study (Unlike studying seals or whales) It did afford me the chance to live and work in a very unique and isolated community on the west coast of . I left the community 7 years ago and planned on returning as a career in Hawaii was supposed to bloom. My life took a couple of right angles and I found that I was not able to return to a place that is fertile for fond memories until now.

The road to Bamfield is 80 km of rough logging road starting at Port Alberni (mid island). In the time that I was out there I trashed 3 vehicles because of my rally style driving and not having a proper rally car, not crashes they all just fell apart on me. Like my Dodge Omni (hatchback) which blew both front shock towers through the hood.

My drive in this time was no exception and it took it’s toll like all the other times. Although Travis continues to make fun of what he calls my toy jeep. It does have a little more robustness than all of my other cars combined. It handled the road exceptionally well. So it was not disabled on the way in, but the road claimed one tire in its thirst for destruction.
rough cut
The stay in Bamfield was brief and I was able to meet up with people that I had not had contact from in the time that I have been away. I was welcomed with open arms and in some ways it was like I had never left. I was particularly glad to see John who 10 years ago started to build a 42′ sail boat and is now finally in the water and he and crew are off to Micronesia in less than a month. He has invited me to meet him on the Marshall Islands in July to sail back with him. I’ll see what happens between now and then. Fortunately they are going to keep a webpage that will display their ongoing trip.

With promises that I would be back much sooner than 7 years to those in the community that cared I headed back out the road to Victoria. Although it takes less time going overland by back road from Bamfield to Victoria it is much harder on your vehicles. With the inability to go slow in cars not designed for rallies; I was less inclined to go slow in one that could take a bit of abuse.

Cruising along, drifting around corners I had almost made it to the pavement at when disaster struck. There was smoke coming from under the hood, my temp needle was through the roof and I was still miles from civilization. I pulled over as quickly as I could and realized that 2 things had happened at the same time. I had taken a couple of rocks in my grill and I had split one of the cooling pipes leading from the engine. Thankfully the rubber hose was able to be fixed with duct tape (There always seems to be a roll under one of the seats), but the hole in the radiator was a different matter.

Racking my brain for things that I had in my car to fix my little predicament, i came to the conclusion that I was probably screwed. There was more holes than just one and I had not compounds, such as “Radiator Stop Leak” in my assortment of tools. Being stuck miles away from anywhere with thoughts that nobody was probably going to drive by, created a framework in which I had to rely on solely myself to get out of this mess. I was either going to have to fix the car or walk.

The prospect of walking was not at all appealing, so I rooted through my stuff again and found a half dozen eggs that I had bought when I first got to Bamfield. It was at this time that I thought to myself that compounds that fix radiators plug the holes by expanding into them. Eggs also expand when they are heated. So if I put and egg into my cool radiator, it should mix with the rad’ fluid, and then as i drove it would cook and fill the holes.

I had nothing to lose I was not going to be able to drive my car as it was and I was probably going to need a new front radiator anyway. I cracked the egg, dropped directly into the radiator and washed it into the channels with 2.5 liters of water ( I had lost that much coolant). Jumped in and with a little prayer was on my way. I stopped after 15 minutes to survey what had transpired and whether I was going to have to march out, when I found much to my delight that the egg seemed to have filled the little holes and by topping up the radiator I was easily able to get to Victoria with not more loss of coolant. I’m going to try to make it all the way back to Calgary with it the way it is. I still have 5 eggs and will make sure that I have a full reserve of water.

Good bye coast. I hope to be back soon. I always leave with happy memories and good stories.

Disclaimer: ( I have no idea whether I have totally screwed my cooling system with my little protein plugs so I don’t recommend doing this unless you have absolutely no choice in the matter!)

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I think that I have to be the most random person I know. I decided that today would be a good day to write a blog about what’s up in my world. Before I logged in to check my mail I thought that I would write about my recent adventure almost misadventure around Haslam Lake. While my pics were uploading, Which always takes awhile when you are half a step up from dial-up I decide to check out my RSS reader (NetNewsWire).

One feed that I subscribe to at Travis’s suggestion is Photo Friday . Each week they post a different photo challenge. This week is “Friend”.


The first pic that came to mind was one that was taken in the Downton Creek area in the Cayoosh Mountain range. Close to Lillooet. This trip was part of an annual trip that is organized by my childhood buddies in Vancouver. There have been a couple of trips in the past I always had a reason not to go. looking back I realized that I never really had any reason not to go before, I didn’t go because I thought that I shouldn’t. And not because of the people that were going, or where they were going, but because of the assumptions that I made around my wife and what she thought. The only thing that was reinforced (and therefore any value) out of marriage prep was that assumptions make and ASS out of U and ME. This is one fundamental thing that I have learned over the last 5 years of marriage.
Trav and Ryan

So because my lack of maturity and not communicating properly this was my first trip with my buds in 16 years. This trip also reconfirmed what true friendship means to me.

Martin and Clint

A true friend is one that you can be comfortable with, truly trust with your life, and know that if the train ever comes off the tracks in your life you can turn to them. These 3 things being true even though you don’t send christmas cards to one another and only see each other every 5 years or so.

Martin Ryan and Clint

So this is not a picture of a “friend” but of what the word friend embodies. Love, Trust and Faith. I have this in all of those that are pictured.

Thanks: Ry’guy, Marty, Clintster, and Trav for making this blog possible.

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Somethings make you go hmm.

Today we headed across the Malaspina Strait to Texada the largest of all the gulf islands. A bustling island 52 km long by 10 km wide. It has a small population of 1,300. Mostly employed in the mining and forestry. I have not been across to Texada to drive around except once when I was about six.

The best part of Texada growing up was whenever my Dad went fishing (something I found incredibly boring) he would let me off on the beaches. They were my private playground where I could beachcomb and find many incredible treasures such as logging ropes, timber and once I found half of a pre-made made deck that we precariously brought back as waves washed over the front of our little 12 foot open tin boat. That deck lasted until last year when it was crushed under a back-hoe doing some work on the property.

Ok enough with the reminiscing.

Now and then my dad is the worst person to go sight seeing with. He is one of those people that go 30 in 60 zones, looking around at everything to be seen. Oblivious to vehicles that come up impatiently behind. There were many times where he had to be made aware that there was someone chopping the bit behind us. But the one good thing of going that slow is you get to see every bush and fern along the way. Our end point on this journey was a place called Shingle Beach, It wasn’t a planned end point, it just happened that that was a far as we got down the island.

Shingle Beach is a pretty little BC Ministry of Forestry camp grounds that are hardly ever used and are beautiful. If you ever want a nice camping spot, usually appealing, usually secluded, usually easy to drive to check out the Ministry of Forest campgrounds in your area. While we were at the beach I notice a numbed of cute little signs, such as “Non-potable water (don’t drink)”, or “Careful Steep Cliffs don’t Navigate at Night”. Or “Warning Cliffs no Camping BE SAFE”. I like taking pictures of funny signs, so It made sense to take one of these. When I did I found that the image came out all streaky. So I took about six more right around the sign and found exactly the same phenomena. The next picture I took at the of the BC forest camp fire can came out clear.

When I got home, by chance I decided to look up Shingle Beach on the net and found out the reason why the sign is there is because last summer a 28 yr old from Vancouver camped on top of the rocks during a music ‘fest and died as he fell off the cliffs.

I am not a very superstitious man. I have always taken things that go bump in the night with a grain of salt and analyzed them until I could make sense of what I was hearing. Like when I used to lock up the neighborhood church at night in the dark, after 4 years I was able to tell you what every creak and bang was. I don’t know what caused the pictures to do that. I have take over 8, 000 pictures with my little Cannon Elph and have never seen these results. This is something that makes me want to go hmm. Very similar to the hmm that I am still processing with the little girl voices and foot steps that Travis told me about in his old parents home.

You can draw your own conclusions… I’m still going to go hmm on this one.

View at Shingle Beach

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