The league I joined is a no body contact affair for the less mobile (i.e. older) players.  It is primarily just for fun and gives us a chance to relive some of those glory days.  The playing standard certainly varies quite a lot, which means some of us have more glory to relive than others.  I’m also one of the younger players in this group which was brought home to me the second outing.  I’m sitting on the player’s bench waiting for my next shift on the ice and the guy next to me asks where I’ve been playing.  I tell him of my inactivity since the early 90′s and he says he’s just coming back from injury.  I’m thinking maybe a typical hockey injury like the knee or shoulder.  Nope.  Hip replacement.  Welcome to old timers hockey!

The main thing I’ve noticed is that my feet, legs and hands don’t respond quickly enough to their instructions from my brain.  I figured this out after sliding into the end-of-rink boards, luckily feet first, going full tilt.  I told the feet and legs to turn left but they just wouldn’t listen.  As a result I’ve had to slow things down a little so I don’t kill myself.  Wipe off 5!  (a little joke for Melbourne people)

I also seem to be suffering from a delusional sense of speed.  In my mind I’m skating a lot faster than I appear to be in real time.  After taking off with the puck, nobody can touch me but then I notice that guy that looked a little awkward on his skates cruising beside me.  I’m obviously not travelling as fast as I thought I was.  And others must have noticed.  In the competition I’ve joined, there are about 80 players or so that are divided up into 7 teams.  I didn’t know how they decided which players went in which team but it turns out that somebody grades the players and then forms the teams so they are evenly matched.  They are ranked from 1 to 5 with 1 the best.  I was ranked 2.

2!!!!!

My hockey ego has been duly crushed.  My goal is to be ranked 1 for next season, not that I’m competitive or anything.

Like most people, my record collection was sold at a garage sale many years ago.  And since we now needed vinyl, we were off to a second hand record store to repurchase the records I disposed off over 20 years ago.  My daughter has a few favourites from the 80′s but for the most part, the bands in the record store were a bit of a mystery to her.  Imagine her delight as her father was excitedly pulling records from the bins and providing a commentary on each bands’ strengths and weaknesses.  Who’s the teenager here?

I proceeded to overlook the expressions of horror on her face and chose a selection of different 80′s stuff.  Here’s what I went with:  Sade – Promise, Roxy Music – Avalon, Genesis – Duke, INXS - Listen Like Thieves, The Cars – Heartbeat City, Boom Crash Opera – Self Titled and The Waterboys - This Is The Sea.  So far the verdict is that The Cars are just weird but Boom Crash Opera and The Waterboys were good.  She may have been just humoring me though.

Once we got home, I made the mistake of thinking that, given my daughter had asked for a turntable, she would know how to use one.  Wrong.  I had to explain how the turntable worked and what was going on with the records themselves.  It didn’t start off so well when I forgot to flip up the little hinged plastic cover that protects the needle.  When the needle finally did hit the vinyl it was strangely invigorating to hear the faint scratching sound where stylus meets groove again.

Not feeling so old after all.

Sunday started out quite sunny and beautiful.  A great morning until a neighbor 5 miles down the highway phoned and said our horse was on the highway heading south.  She seems to have a fetish for heading south.  The other two times she got loose over the years, she headed south fast, as if  Horse Heaven awaited.  She’s never been to the south end as far as I know.  Lord knows what her fascination with it is.  Caught up with her at St. Mary’s Spring, about ten miles away.  A long ride back along an icy highway.

That wasted most of the morning, and we didn’t get a few things done we wanted to before the AGM of our music festival, Edge of the World.  It was one of those meetings where you know no good will come of it.  The incumbent in the top job was challenged for the position, vote taken, and the challenger won.  Hate these things, creates bad blood.  Caught in the middle, E and I had to choose.  With only 15 people there, and the vote split 8-7, there’s only one or two questions as to who didn’t vote as expected.  Someone switched camps.

And that was the good day.

Monday, weather turned ugly just after midnight, screaming southeaster.  We’re scheduled to catch the ferry to Rupert in the morning, the ferry that  was supposed to come here overnight.  If you go to CBC or CTV news on the net, you can read about it.  The ferry came out of the islands on the east side of Hecate Strait and waltzed into a nightmare.  I heard the captain was from southern B.C. and this was his first run up here.  Bad timing.  BC Ferries says the weather came up bigger and faster than the forecast, but I suspect a seasoned captain up here wouldn’t have stuck his nose out with that brewing.

They bounced around in 7-10 metre waves for about four hours before being able to make the turn and head back north for cover, limping into Rupert around breakfast time.  This is of course, the Northern Adventure, a boat from the sunny Mediterranean  that they bought to replace the Queen of the North, which they sunk a couple of years ago, while the captain was off duty asleep, and the first mate and the second mate (female) were otherwise engaged on the bridge, or there-abouts.  Ran straight into an island in the middle of the night, a big, big island.  Anyhow, this present boat has been dubbed the ‘Misadventure’.

So, no ferry trip.  I was scheduled to have a follow-up test to last year’s bypass I had done.  But it’s ok, sort of.  We had an extra day leeway, and they said the ferry would come back this morning (Tuesday).  So, cancel one hotel reservation, re-arrange a number of other things we had scheduled.  The wind dropped Monday evening, things are looking ok, sort of.  Forecast is for another storm though.  Late Monday the word comes down the pipe that the sailing is canceled.  More phone calls, canceling all the changes we’d just made.  At least it worked out with the test I was to have done.  They said the camera on their machine just kakked out and all appointments would have to be rescheduled anyway.

One more problem.  Elizabeth’s adopted daughter from Prince George (in the interior) had been staying with us, and was due to go back, on the ferry of course (then the bus).  So booked a flight out on the float plane today.  Plane canceled.  Re-booked for tomorrow.  Weather forecast dicey.  Even in the best of circumstances visits by her daughter are fraught with tension, each day its own little challenge to keep the lid on.  Things have been not too bad this visit, but she’s getting bored, and antsy, and we’re getting tired.  Not a good brew, what?  The plot thickens.  Patience is not my strong suit.  Arrrgghh!!

So there you have it Aussie folk, all is blissful on the Misty Isles.

Uncle Keith

My stress levels are way down now but this is about those pounds.  And a New Year’s resolution from 2008.  In my infinite wisdom I thought it would be a great idea to weigh in at less than I did the previous year, for the next 5 years.  On 1 January 2008 I weighed 95kg.  On 1 January 2009 I weighed in at 93kg, so far so good.  Herein lies the problem.  With 1 month to go, I’m 4kg the wrong side of 93.  So basically I have to get down to 92kg to meet the goal some idiot set for me 2 years ago.  And you guessed it, that’s where the kick boxing comes in.  Oh and some major changes to my diet, but I don’t even want to think about that right now.  I’d rather step in the ring with Mike Tyson than eat broccoli.

So, I found a gym called The Arena that offers kick boxing classes twice a week and is only a 10 minute drive away.  On a Thursday night, two weeks ago, I set off for the address shown on the The Arena’s website.  I parked the car and stood in front of the address but no gym that I could see.  The building looked like an old garment factory.  I went around back but was none the wiser.  Almost ready to give up, I noticed a woman in gym gear head down a back alley and disappear.  I walked down the same way but still no signs of a gym, just an open door.  I poked my head in but saw nothing but a staircase.  I’d come this far so I crept up the steps to get a peek of what was up there.  Alright!  I’d found it, the secret gym.  On subsequent visits I can still confirm that there is not a single sign indicating that there is a gym inside.  Fortunately everything was above board and it turns out that this gym was started by a group of personal trainers who use it for their clients.  It isn’t like a normal gym with memberships, change rooms, etc.

Whatever the case, it works for me.  This was my first class for about 6 months but I was looking forward to it.  The trainer looked the goods but I was the minority in this class.  Four young women and yours truly.  Better look sharp!

The class started off fine.  I was the best skipper (by far) but then the skipping was interrupted several times with repetitions of sit-ups, push-ups and knee bends.  My head was saying we are ready for this but unfortunately my body had other ideas.  And started to shut down about 10 minutes into the class.  I tried to ignore the nausea rising up but it was a losing battle.  I excused myself for a little sit down and then went back down the stairs for some fresh air.  I was pretty frustrated and embarrassed, unable to get up and rejoin the class.  An angel from the gym staff eventually arrived with water, a banana (?) and a few kind words of encouragement.  I did eventually eke out a few kicks and punches but it wasn’t enough to repair my damaged pride.

But have no fear!  I got straight back on the horse the next class and paced myself a little better.  I’m 4 classes into it now and my fitness is slowly coming back.  I’ll keep you posted on my progress to keeping my 2008 resolution.

Well, I made it to Whitehorse to see my sons, one in his late twenties, a journeyman carpenter and loving it, the other mid-twenties and doesn’t know what to do with himself.  So he worked on a paving crew all summer, 12 hours a day, seven days a week, and made scads of money.  Plans to hit South America this winter with some mates.

One primary reason for my visit every October is to get them out of town and off to Haines, Alaska for salmon fishing.  As usual, this was a great trip …. for them the fishing, for me, time alone with them away from their regular diversions at home.  The fishing was a little slower this season than previous, but we still wound up with 5 coho, 5 chums and a sockeye in two days of fishing.  Most of it winds up in the freezer as vac-packed fillets, but both Tyler and Stefan like to smoke up a goodly portion as well.  A few pictures for you attached of the Chilcat river near Haines.

After having my by-pass done almost a year ago now, I basically lost that year in terms of getting major jobs done around the property.  So this fall I’m dedicating to catching up.  The woodshed is mostly full now, but I built an elevated deck on the backside of it, and opened up the back walls so we could get at it from that side.  Now we’ll always be able to get at the oldest wood first, no matter which end we initially loaded it from.  Drying wood here is a chore what with the damp climate.  Just in time, as we got our first skiff of snow this morning.  Well, it’ll be a nice clear sunny day and great for working outside.

I’ve got the hardware up now for the slider barn doors on the front side, where our prevailing winds and rain hit.  Hopefully I’ll get the 6×8 foot doors built and hung today.  Finished off the wood shed extension last month that gave us space that is insulated and heated, for motorcycles and other equipment.  Now at last I have my shop back and can actually begin to do something in it.

We’ve taken over tending the chickens down below (our house is up on a knoll)  that E’s son and wife have. Ah, ain’t it exciting in the country.  Lynn is off to Vancouver this winter to work on getting her doctorate (marine biology) and Leandre is busy as a one-armed paper hanger with his various contracts.  He and his partner have a crew working up at Tow Hill on North Beach, replacing for the Parks branch all the boardwalk trail that winds up to the top.  It’s a major job.  They had to dismantle it all and collate into bundles.   All the new wood they marshalled in the campsite parking lot below the hill.  Then on a good flying day, they called the chopper over from Rupert, and started an intense day of flying each lift of wood up to a designated spot, and hooking on to the old wood and lifting it out. (pics attached).

Ah, life in the country. Elizabeth is a singer, and is often asked to sing at various events around here, funerals being a regular thing.  The last one was for Winnie, an old friend of her mother’s.  So, she got to town and they held the service, but Winnie had to sit tight so to speak, as they couldn’t bury her.  The backhoe had broken down.  The backhoe was off to the garage and Winnie back to the cooler.  Next day they planted Winnie with due reverence and ceremony.

That same day I had  planned to make hamburgers for supper.  But we use deer burger instead usually, sometimes bison (which we can get at the store, from Alberta).  So I thawed out a package of burger and rummaged through the freezer looking for hamburger buns.  I knew that Anne’s store down the road was out of them a couple of days previous, and her weekly order wasn’t due to arrive on the ferry for another couple of days.  No burger buns, but I did find hot dog buns.  When E got home, I knew she’d ask what’s for dinner, so thought I’d tease her mind a little …. answered ‘deerburdogs’, thinking this would stump her.   Not so, she had it in a second, as she’s had to be very creative over the years with either no store at all handy, or like now, a small convenience store with limited stock.

My son Stefan arrives  in a couple of weeks for a month visit, prior to heading for  S.America in January.  Looking forward to taking him Steelhead fishing in the Yakoun, a beautiful river in the centre of the island.  Cold, tough fishing in December, but absolutely gorgeous when the sun shines.  Steelhead are a sea-run rainbow trout.  Will likely go deer hunting too as its getting time to re-stock the freezers.  They are small Sitka blacktails, half the size of whitetail on the mainland.  The deer were introduced (about a 100 years ago) and have no natural enemies, so are here in great numbers and play havoc with the island’s ecosystem.  Hunters are encouraged to take as much as they want.  There’s no chance of decimating them as there’s so much wild country that’s essentially inaccessible for regular hunters.  All it does is keep them in check a little.

That’s all for today folks.  Hope you found it a little interesting.

Keith

6-STEP PROGRAM TO ADVANCEMENT (without really trying)

Step 4:  Stand Up

Now I realise that many of you may not like this one.  Most people do not like confrontation and would prefer that everyone just got along.  No arguments from me on that but rest assured that your rivals with a plan will also understand this propensity of people to avoid the rough stuff.  That’s why you’ll have to stand up for yourself when its necessary.  Nobody likes roadkill, its unsightly and sad.  The good news is that if you’re following the first 2 steps, chances are, you won’t have to push back very often.  However, when those moments arrive, you don’t have to enjoy it, but you will have to do it.

Step 5:  Stretch Yourself

If people are going to notice you even though you aren’t trying to be noticed, you’ll need to diversify.  You may be doing a great job in your own little pigeon hole but people will most likely start taking you for granted.  The simple message here is don’t hide in your comfort zone.  If something interests you outside your normal work duties, don’t be afraid to put your hand up to do it.  This will put you in contact with other people in the organisation who are likely to take note of your versatility (and hidden talent).

Step 6:  Attitude Matters

And last but not least, be positive.  Nobody likes to spend time with a sad sack.  Work can be tough enough without talking yourself, and everyone around you, into a funk.  Ask any people manager around and you’ll hear this catch phrase:  Attitude counts for a lot.  Think of it this way, when an executive promotes someone it usually means a closer working relationship with that person will be the result.  Unless that executive is a masochist, they’ll prefer people with good attitudes around them.

Well, there it is.  My 6-step program to advancement without really trying.  As much fun as it has been putting this together, I’ve come to the realisation that this has basically been a fruitless exercise.  The reason being, if anyone were to take note of these steps (remote possibility, I know) and follow them, then that would constitute trying to get ahead, wouldn’t it?

Oh well, good luck, and be careful out there!

As we all grow older, there are a number of life affirming moments that many of us men have in common.  Things like your first, umm, sexual encounter (with or without partner), your first car and the birth of your first child come to mind.  Even from the wrong side of 40, it’s still possible to have another such moment.  And so it was for me…

My first chain saw.

Ahh, the smell of 2-stroke fuel.  The visceral sound of the chain spinning on the arm.  That distinctive roar announcing the presence of a serious tool (not me, the chain saw).

Now don’t get me wrong, this purchase was a purely rational economic decision and not an emotional one.  There is a large hardwood tree on our neighbor’s property that has several large branches overhanging our “Bali hut” (don’t ask, the former owners thought it was a good idea).   A number of these branches had fallen on the roof of the hut and had to be wrestled down, chopped up and removed.   I checked out the tool hire place on-line and the thieves wanted $72 for 4 hours to rent a chain saw.  Outrageous, I know.  I also checked out the hardware store on-line and discovered that I could own my very own chain saw for the very reasonable price of $220.  As I explained to anyone that would listen, if I rented a chain saw only 3 times I would have paid for a new one!

See what I mean, this was just…just…common sense!

I’ll be off the air for a few (more than usual) days.

Take care everybody.

The start time for the game here was 9:30pm local time, Saturday night.  Ever heard that old Elton John song, “Saturday Night’s Alright (For Fighting)”?  Almost positive that he wasn’t thinking of sleepy ole Vancouver Island when he wrote those lyrics.

We sat on high stools up against the bar, watching a small TV up in a corner, above the bottles of spirits.  The bartender warned us that he couldn’t put the sound on, but that didn’t worry us, we were just happy to watch.  Turns out that sound or no sound wouldn’t have made any difference as the noise levels in the pub rose to a dull roar by 10pm.  The table behind us became a meeting place for a large group of 20-something, mostly male patrons.  I was pretty focused on the game but I could certainly hear that things were getting a little messy behind us.  As the game went into the 2nd quarter, some “words” had already been exchanged amongst the young bucks but up until then, they were just that, words.  And then the fists started flying.  I missed the start of proceedings (hey, I was watching the game!) but when I turned around there was a large scrum off to the left of us.  It seemed to be degenerating rapidly towards an all-in brawl until the bouncers showed up and did their job well.  This quieted things down for a little while but it was clear that testosterone levels were still elevated.  We were also baffled by the presence of the original combatants again behind us with drinks in their hands.  Turns out they were actually “friends” of sorts!

Half time arrived and we reluctantly decided that, although we wanted to see how the game would end, we didn’t want to witness how this night at the pub would end.  Now, some of you are probably thinking that this sounds like a normal Saturday night at the pub, and you may be right, but I don’t get out much.  I just wanted to watch the game without fear of being king-hit from behind.  Is that too much to ask?

In the end I had to settle for listening to the second half on an internet radio station.  Cheers to Cats supporters and commiserations to the Saints supporters.

Hello to All Down Under and Others Parts Unknown

This is your host’s uncle, Keith to be precise, writing to offer a slice of life from Haida Gwaii / Queen Charlotte Islands off the north coast of B.C., Canada.  As you can see, we’ve got a severe case of split personality going on here.  Do we choose to share the name the indigenous Haida call this soggy rock or cling to the name some sycophantic explorer, trying to suck up to that twit George the third, bestowed upon this place.

We live on 30 acres of mostly bush (ie. forest) at the metropolis of Tlell  (pop. 200) on the east coast of Graham Island.  We try to seize our opportunities to “get off the rock” when they present themselves.  A couple of weeks ago, my wife Elizabeth was off on another of her training sorties to the mainland (she’s a retired postmaster, and takes short contracts to train other postmasters in tiny communities in the interior).

I went with her as we had a big agenda to fill regarding off island acquisitions.  We took her son’s truck and flatbed trailer in order to buy a load of hay in the Smithers area (highway 16, between  Prince Rupert and Prince George on mainland British Columbia).  We have this horse for reasons only Elizabeth (E) understands that eats more than I care to mention and magically converts it to three times the volume in manure.  A neighbor with a similar problem was eager to share the load and cost.  Hay here at Ranch Feeds hit $17 a bale last winter (just can’t grow enough here, so it’s all trucked/ferried here from mainland), compared to $3 in Smithers.  Factoring in our cost, probably works out to $9-10 a bale, so we made some decent savings.

Also bought a newer Ford Explorer to replace my old one which I use for our summer Invasive Weeds contract.  And all the hardware for barn door sliders, which I’ll put on the woodshed so the driving rain in the winter can’t get at it.  E and I only have wood heat, which is economical, but makes for a lot of work for an ol’ fart.  It works in another way though, as it’s a constant battle here to keep the forest at bay, to prevent the houses from mildewing due to lack of sun.  And finally, lots of dry goods to fill the pantry.  It’s normal for us to spend 5-6-7 hundred dollars on a trip like this.

Had a wonderful weekend during the trip at a B&B on Francois Lake, south of Burns Lake (hey, you all know where that is, right?)  This couple in their late thirties bought five acres on the lake with a big old log house.  Took them two years to sand every log, inside and out and completely re-do the inside to turn it into a beautiful B&B.  Instead of the logs being almost black with age, they are now a beautiful blond.  The guy and I would jump in his skiff with an electric trolling motor and catch rainbows (trout) right out in front of the house.  This was a good time.

Don’t know if you’ve heard about our pine beetle problems the last decade, but the evidence is everywhere there.  That area of the interior is rolling plateau, and the hillsides in every direction are splotched with red-brown, the sign of dead pine forests.  Then you have patches of spruce dead from the invasion of the spruce bud-worm the previous decade.  Despite the gruesome image, it’s still a gorgeous area with seas of poplar (trembling aspen) pocked with cleared fields for farming and ranching.

Arriving at the ferry terminal in Prince Rupert, I’m wondering if I’ll have a scrap with the ferry people about ‘over-height’ and ‘over-width’.  Our old ferry, the Queen of Prince Rupert was recently retired with the new Northern Adventure (which we’ve dubbed the ‘Misadventure’) now in service.  B.C. Ferries has been having one of their usual communication gaps, so half the staff are using the new guidelines and half the old ones.  It’s great fun when you have to tell people what their own regs are.  Anyhow, the attendant at the entry kiosk comes out with her wheel-on-a-stick odometer and says to me in a cheery sing-song voice:

“And have you been measured yet today?”

Quite an opener.

I’m thinking, “Geez, of course, they measured me at the gas station, and there was a girl in a bunny outfit doing the same when I stopped at Safeway for groceries”.

I say, “I know I’m not over-height or width”.  She just nods and measures truck and trailer for length.  Didn’t hassle me for the tarping job on the hay either (its dangerous goods you know, favoured by discerning terrorists world-wide).

Sitting in line later I’m thinking, missed the boat with a quick retort.  In response to the ‘being measured yet today’, I should have come back with “No need at all, my girlfriend knows right to the millimeter…”.   Of course in today’s politically correct insanity, I likely would have missed the ferry and endured an afternoon of fielding incredibly stupid questions from a panel of puckered arsed politicos that are paranoid about offending anybody about anything.

The trip back was normal winter fare, rocking and rolling in a 45 knot southeaster.  Got the hay in the barn, and now doing renovations on the wood and storage sheds before serious winter rains set in.

That’s all for now folks.  Off to visit my boys in Whitehorse, Yukon in a couple of days, and go for our annual trip down to Haines, Alaska to fish for coho (salmon).