Rocky the Racoon

I dreamt that Mom added a racoon to her family of pets. It was originally going to be another cat (neighbourhood homeless) and it was in Grandma’s yard, but by the time I found shoes that fit in our basement to go retrieve the cat, it had moved. It had previously been playing with Wagner (Mom's Sheltie) in Grandma’s front yard. Then Grandma’s house turned into Aunt Sandy’s house (although it still looked like Grandma’s house but moved to lakeshore) complete with a massive partly submerged log moored along the shoreline (reminding me of Deka Lake) which was located where Mom’s/Grandma’s south neighbour is now. We all sat on this huge log while my cousin Michelle brought over the racoon which had previously been the homeless cat. As soon as I tried to pick it up, it ran out of my grasp.

Intersections

This morning I witnessed a rare traffic disturbance in Vancouver at Fraser Street and E. 41st Avenue. Or it would have been “rare” had I not witnessed it a previous two times in the last three weeks.

For the first two episodes I was at the intersection of Knight Street and E. 41st Avenue when a police Harley with lights flashing and siren blaring roared up and stopped abruptly in the middle of the intersection. The officer quickly dismounted and directed traffic in all four directions to halt and wait. Then half a dozen or so police motorcycles roared through the intersection following by three or four black SUVs, then half a dozen or so additional police bikes. As soon as the entourage cleared the intersection the initial rider remounted and blasted off to leave the intersection to return to its normal congested state. 

Years and years ago I witnessed a similar incident at the corner of W. 16th Avenue and Granville Street. I’m not sure exactly when it was, but it was in the pre-2010 era (Winter Olympics) when the mint green YVR airport shuttles still regularly travelled the Granville Street route. I must have ancient notes of the event somewhere; I’ve always been in the habit of at least jotting down notes of notable events even if I hadn’t penned an entire blog entry. I remember that day quite clearly as it was such a diversion from normal daily humdrum occurrences. But I can’t remember which dignitary or celebrity I’d guessed it might be at the time. 

Now, however, I think I can pretty accurately guess what’s going on with local traffic patterns. As part of the lead-up to “World Cup” the traffic enforcement division of the VPD is probably practicing for high-security transportation of celebs and dignitaries throughout the city during the big event.

Fuel

This past Friday my self-assigned task was to drop off Shauna’s laptop at the school for an IT update. Since it was such magnificent weather I decided to ride my motorcycle. And also, I’d replied to a FB ad regarding vintage Expo86 literature and I’d arranged to pick it up later in the week, so the two errands coincided with a nice morning’s ride. Or so I thought.

My most previous ride had been about three weeks ago to Chilliwack for a vintage VW parts swap meet. Traffic had been fairly heavy, especially through Langley and Surrey, then heavy again once I got back into Vancouver city limits. And since this had been my first ride of the season, I was quite sore as I approached home. Therefore I decided not to top up the gas tank (foreshadowing) prior to parking the motorcycle at home. And, as I have discovered from past experience, I did not remember to go directly to the gas station prior to embarking on my new trip.

I fired up the bike and headed to my first stop in north Burnaby, remembering mid-route that I hadn’t even checked my fuel level today. I made my purchase and headed off to Stop #2. Again, never once thought of gas. I merged into freeway traffic with no issues and entered the Cassiar tunnel. Halfway through the tunnel someone directly ahead of me absolutely floored their muscle SUV and accelerated in a cannon-shot blast of carbon particles and explosive sound. The hugely amplified sound within the confined space of the tunnel scared the hell out of me.

I was just calming down as I exited the tunnel and was approaching the base of the bridge’s incline when…

…that all-to-familiar mechanical hiccupping began. I can’t think of too much of a worse place for that to happen; except maybe inside the Cassiar tunnel, LOL. Embarrassingly, unexpected fuel drainages have been a bit of a running commentary with this motorcycle (no fuel gauge). I immediately tapped the reserve switch on the fairing. No response whatsoever. I was in the middle lane with traffic merging from the east onramp cloverleaf. The motorcycle started to decelerate to its fuel-starved chug-chug state. The bridge was approaching rapidly, and as I applied more and more throttle the bike slowed correspondingly ever more rapidly.

To my shock and horror the engine died completely while I was still in the centre lane! I could see from my rearview mirrors that the driver right behind me had thankfully turned on his emergency flashers as my motorcycle is not equipped with that feature. I moved over to the curb lane and began to push the bike up the bridge deck incline, partially protected by the vehicle behind me that still had its emergency flashers engaged. I don’t know how long that vehicle remained behind me. Several cars and trucks passed me very close to my left side as I pushed. There's no shoulder lane on the bridge.

Fortunately the Ironworkers Memorial Bridge has three lanes in each direction, plus it was mid-day; not yet rush hour. Despite those conditions I bet my stall backed up traffic into the tunnel during the 15-20 minutes or so that I estimate it took me to push my bike up the incline. I took three or four breaks to catch my breath and two or three passing cars slowed to ask if they could help. One guy driving a pickup even offer to help me load my bike into his pickup bed to get me over the bridge. But I could see that his ramps were short and due to the weight of my motorcycle plus the incline of the bridge I knew we’d never be able to load it. I thanked him and continued pushing. Even a cyclist stopped on the sidewalk to ask if he could help in any way.

Well, if nothing else I guess in fairly telling fashion I proved to myself I’m in pretty good physical condition. Those workouts seem to have been worth their weight in gold. Like I say, I estimated that it took about 15-20 minutes (although probably more) for the bridge deck incline to finally start to flatten out at its apex. After that point I hopped on the seat and started pushing with wide-leg strides to generate momentum. Faster and faster I went watching, the speedometer increase to over 50 km/h by the time I cruised onto the off ramp. Fortunately the momentum continued long enough to propel me into the parking lot of a self-storage facility on Dollarton Highway. From there I had to choose which gas station was closest: east or west. I chose west for its proximity to an A&W. Pushing a 500 lb motorcycle is hungry work! The clerk at the gas station was kind enough to lend me a jerry can (no deposit even!) and also offered me a free Slurpee. Very kind of him.

I dreamt that I was planning to visit Phillip and June and I’d had a grand idea to bring a familiar dog to visit them that they hadn’t seen in a while. It seems like June was a dog groomer, so that was the tie-in. But just to throw a spanner in the works, my initial mode of transport was a bicycle and I didn’t realize until I was some distance from home that I had no method of carrying the dog while cycling. All I could do was walk beside the bike while balancing it with one hand and carry the dog with the other arm. A backpack of some sort would have sufficed 😑 but I’d left it at home. 

Chapter two started with me on a bus (a double-decker even!) with the dog in my lap, asking adjacent passengers for directions to some obscure street in England (I don’t know what town) where Phillip and June lived. I’d only been to their traditional stone-fronted rowhouse once. 

We passed a massive Hogswartsian castle facade that was carved into the side of a tall cliff face across the road from the seashore. A localized cloudburst was precipitating heavily upon us as we had exited the bus at that particular location for some reason. 

Then, suddenly we seemed to be in a big hotel with uneven floors; one winding corridor a step up, the next a step down, etc. I then ran across Phillip and June in a corridor about to enter a suite. They were in full costume with Hollywood-grade face make-up to the point that I almost didn’t physically recognize them (at least Phillip). I played along like I didn’t recognize Phillip; he was portraying Houdini. 

Somehow I sustained some scratches on my arm during the performance and I left to seek first aid which took me to a small restaurant which I seemed to know reasonably well. It seemed that the head waiter was Ian, Phillip’s son. I could see that he was very busy serving tables but I asked him to direct me to their first aid supplies so I could treat my arm. That’s about when I woke up as my arm really was sore, but that was due to a bit of numbness because I’d been sleeping on it. 

 

Something prodded me to experience quite a vivid and abstract dream last night. Maybe it was seeing that black Cybertruck again in our ‘hood. I think it belongs to the general contractor that’s overseeing the build of a new house nearby.

TBH, I find a black Cybertruck with all tinted windows, including even the front side windows which is illegal in BC BTW, somewhat unsettling. Maybe it’s just the recent culture shift south of the border since Notorious IOM (Insufferable Orange Man) took over the reins, but both times I’ve seen that black truck I’ve envisioned it decked out in army camouflage. A further paranoid vision has one parked on every street corner. You know, during and after the Cdn annexation, LOL. Nonsensical, I know.

Anyway, back to my dream where I had seen a TV commercial featuring a massive black pickup truck (it seemed to me it was a Dodge Ram); you know the stereotype, massive lift kit, monstrous tires, and I think it was a crewcab, but that detail has faded. Suddenly it spit out a Mini-Me black pickup from its p/u bed. The semi-complete truck landed on its frame, “born” with no axles, wheels or suspension. Very strange for me to envision a birth analogy.

Then the “parent” truck reared up to expose its engine, and a pair of mechanical horses the size of Clydesdales began to metamorphose underneath the truck. I could even see riveted knee joints on the horses. Once complete they moved forward out of the way and two more were extruded, then another two to make an even half dozen.

In this age of "fake news" I didn’t trust the digital media enough (remember, this is a dream, LOL) to believe this had really occurred so I went to a dealership to get the real story. Turns out we (Shauna came too) weren’t the only ones. Quite a queue had formed to see this spectacle. In fact we had to get tickets from an agent in a tent before we could even line up. The trucks/horses were apparently set up behind the tent so I couldn’t get any sneak-peaks beforehand. The agent however assured me that the whole demonstration was true and would occur live in front of an actual audience very shortly. And again and again after that.

Unfortunately I cannot report on the accuracy of the agent’s assertions as, wouldn’t-cha know it, I awoke before our viewing session began.

Ruminations on Rhubarb

Last night I dreamt about rhubarb (!) I’d parked my car (although it seems like it was perhaps a motorhome) on the front lawn. It seems like maybe it was the front lawn of my inlaws' old house in Winnipeg. I was returning to the vehicle to retrieve something (in the rain) and one of the neighbours had placed large piles of rhubarb stalks across the boulevard as if they’d been discarded as hedge trimmings. And these were no ordinary stalks; they were massive, like tree boughs that might have been brought down in a heavy wind! You’d have needed a handsaw to carve these up for baking needs. Like a rhubarb crisp perhaps? Or a hundred? 😁

I dreamt that we awoke in the house that a childhood friend's family used to own on Parker Place in White Rock. As usual, my first morning task is letting out our dog; I think this is the first time Flynn has featured in one of my dreams. For some reason I released him into the front yard which was unfenced. Fortunately, the street is a cul-de-sac so there was no traffic. I had to rush back into the house to grab a leash, but upon entering I noticed that the bedrooms were gone. A wall now existed where the bedrooms had been only minutes earlier. I was dumbfounded. How could this be? The leash was in the bedroom. Now where had the bedrooms gone? Something told me that the bedrooms were now in the basement but also, where had the basement stairs gone? It's a split level foyer but half the stairs were missing. I'd have to find another way in. I exited the house and went in the attached carport (now an enclosed garage in the Google Maps-supplied photo). Lo and behold, there was a goldish/yellow Beetle parked there covered in dust and clutter. Also, a sheen of surface corrosion had formed on the hood. I had to sidestep all the clutter in order to see the basement door tucked in behind the Bug. However, it looked more like a Hobbit door, being only about 3 to 4 feet tall. That's when I woke up.

13

Stephen Colbert did a “Late Show” monologue recently on Taylor Swift’s obsession with the number 13; or at least her Swifties’ opinion of Taylor’s obsession with 13.

If she attended the 2024 Superbowl (the 58^th) it would kinda be a “13”; 5+8.

If she attended the 2024 Superbowl it would be the 13^th Chiefs game she’s attended.

If she attended the 2024 Superbowl it would require a 13 hour flight from Tokyo.

The digital date of the game is 2-11; 2+11=13.

The Chiefs are playing the 49ers in the Superbowl; 4+9=13.

And, playing a hunch yesterday while watching the game, potentially adding a new “13” to the list, I counted the network camera shots of Taylor throughout the game. Guess how many times CBS panned their cameras over to show Taylor within gametime?

13.

Suspenders

Have you ever heard a conspiracy theory something along the lines of, "Your cellphone is eavesdropping  on you"? 

Well, funny story here. We were walking at False Creek this morning and came upon a dog wearing what could only be described as boots with suspenders. I'd never seen such a thing so we stopped and I asked where such a product could be found. It's been my experience that booties for my past dogs have not stayed on long; they fall off pretty easily on walks. The longer boots with straps (suspenders) look like a much more efficient system. During a short conversation the couple told me where they'd purchased the item for their dog. My phone was not involved at all in this interaction; it remained tucked in a pocket inside my jacket. We continued on our walk. 

Then, later at home, I opened my Instagram account and one of the first ads to pop up was for that exact store the couple had told me about (!) complete with a photo of the product I'd asked them about (!!) 

Amber Sky 2088

Time for another blog post; it’s only been about 4 years, LOL. Life got busy and I switched to Instagram because it was easier to do short posts; mostly photos.

But today, as we approach the Christmas season, life has slowed a bit (no really, only a bit!) and I’ve had an experience that demands longer prose than a photo caption.

Yesterday I participated in a work team event at a Virtual Reality facility in Richmond. I didn’t know what to expect but I’d heard these computer-generated environments have become quite realistic. As a first impression let me say that the “elevator” floor we were standing on was realistic enough to fool me for a micro-second into thinking I needed to stand well back from the edge of the platform. But of course, in reality, we were standing on a solid floor in a commercial retail unit!

Also, I must admit to feeling a momentary burst of claustrophobia upon donning all the gear which included wrist and ankle monitors, padded vest (for “feeling” the impacts of enemy fire), a backpack (probably containing batteries), visor (computer display), and headphones. I was cut off from any real world inputs. Interestingly, when viewing each other through the VR googles we digitally resembled Tesla Optimus robots!

Our transformation.

Fortunately the new “world” quickly emerged starting with a briefing from our commander. Our mission was to prevent an imminent enemy alien invasion by killing them all (and the horse they rode in on! (i.e., the mothership)). Pretty basic.

I think the elevator was the coolest part. As in any computer game, each successful battle progresses to the next level. In the VR case, each level literally went vertically higher and higher. At first I was comparing it to the elevator within the Shangri-La tower in dwtn Vancouver (to date the fastest and smoothest elevator I’ve ever ridden in). But pretty quickly it cleared the tops of all the adjacent city skyscrapers. It just kept going and going. Eventually we cleared Earth’s atmosphere! We were gazing down upon the planet as if from the ISS.

Still at skyscraper level.

At this point another comparison came to mind; the space elevator described in the "Mars" trilogy by Kim Stanley Robinson. It is a fictional device built to carry Mars colonists from Mars’ surface to an orbiting asteroid via elevators installed within a 35,000 km long cable, thus eliminating frequent rocket trips through the planet’s atmosphere. It was one of the coolest science fiction plot devices I’ve ever read (not that I’ve historically consumed tons of science fiction, that is).

"Michael and Me"

Yesterday was my most interesting VIFF experience to date. I didn't have my act together this year prior to the film fest; I didn't get an event guide book to choose my movies ahead of time. Life gets busy and my usual go-to bookstore was all out by the time I stopped by.

My secondary source was the local newspaper which lead me to to an ad for the 30th anniversary screening of "Roger & Me" with Michael Moore (the director) appearing in person for a Q&A session afterwards. Apparently TIFF and VIFF were the first two venues to pick up his movie back in '89. Seems it was a bit to toxic at the time for American networks to touch. Having never seen the movie I was very intrigued and tried to buy tickets. This was on Thursday before the Saturday screening. Of course, there were standby tickets only by that point.

Undeterred I proceeded with my plan B. We usually get up early on Saturdays to meet with our jogging group but I chose to go downtown instead and lined up in the Vancouver Playhouse standby line. Turns out I'm either a Super Fan or an ultra-keener because I was the only person in line from about 9:30 to about 11:00 a.m. when the box office opened. However, in the meantime Shauna had texted me to ask if I'd had any success, and based upon the non-existent ticket line-up I'd reported she decided to skip our usual post-jogging coffee gathering and join me for the screening, assuming I'd score two seats.

Sure enough, by the time she'd arrived I already had bought one ticket from a fellow film goer with an extra ticket for sale. Then shortly after Shauna arrived I was able to buy the ONE ticket that the box office had in reserve.

Once inside seated in our 3rd row seat (!) Mr. Moore was introduced to a standing ovation even before he said anything. He had an interesting and humorous (albeit rather long) introduction, at the tail end of which he invited everyone present to join him afterwards at the Library Square Pub for more discussion and a drink, the first round being on his tab! He explained that this generosity was in thanks for our country's initial support of his first film.

Michael Moore with CBC's Stephen Quinn

An extraordinary experience, to say the least. It turned out to be kind of a combination film screening/ Writers' Fest-style presentation. I make that comparison because this week we were also fortunate to attend a Writers' Festival event featuring Malcolm Gladwell (interviewed by CBC's Lisa Chistiansen).

Michael had to get a post-screening selfie to commemorate his standing
ovation. Stephen Quinn, the host, posted this shot on Twitter. Shauna and
I are in row 3 (with me looking at my phone to see if I had gotten a clear
photo of Michael).

Serendipitous Security Screening

I know, I know, TLDR, but this is why I’m stunned by how well this morning turned out.

For my job site visit in Kelowna, in an environmentally conscious vein, I took transit instead of my car which meant I arrived about 15 minutes behind my ideal schedule.

And to make matters worse, as soon as I was halfway down the airport escalator the full consequence of my folly was realized. The day after the Labour Day long weekend is no day to cut corners on timing. The queue snaked through its full complement of posts and ribbon permutations to extend outside the security zone which meant about four more rows of people had been added even before entering the security screening lobby.

I was silently doing the math in my head of how I would probably JUST make my flight if I jogged straight from the secure area to my gate (alas, no breakfast!) when a uniformed woman interrupted my trance to say I’d been selected for security pre-screening, based mostly on the bulk of my backpack I surmised.

After effortlessly being allowed to bypass probably 400-500 people in line ahead of me I realized I was enjoying a breakfast sandwich and an Americano only about 20 minutes after exiting the Skytrain. Unbelievable how things turn out sometimes!

And plus, my flight was only about 2/3 full, meaning I enjoyed more elbow room with no one else in my row. And plus-plus, it was sunny and I had a south-facing window seat. A good start to my day!

A Hike-and-a-Half

To be clear, the title is not to be confused with a hike-and-a-half marathon combo. That's just silly. :-) Our running group has just completed its 2nd annual hike. Last year we went north along Lynn Canyon to Lynn Headwaters. It was a good hiking distance for noobies and plus Philip guided us to a semi-secret location of a massive boulder in the forest. It was quite a surreal sight.

This year we started from the same parking lot but veered a bit northwest towards Norvan Falls. Turns out we covered about 20 km round trip. Perhaps jogging and cycling aren't preparatory enough pursuits to train oneself for that distance. As our Scottish friend Jacqui would say, we were nackered!

Here's almost all of us at the start. Just look at that naive enthusiasm!

A-hiking we will go, a-hiking we will go...

I guess this one grew out from under a downed tree for its
formative years until the horizontal log decomposed.

I would not have thought it likely that such a large tree
could have grown atop a boulder. And check out the
buckboard chop-outs in the stump behind it.

And here's the payoff we hiked 10 km to see; Novan Falls.
Impressive, but not exactly Niagara. In order words, we weren't
deafened by the pounding water or drenched by the mist
upon our approach. :-)

Crossing this suspension bridge is the way one continues to Grouse Mountain.
We only did it for the photo op.

Whipped cream on a tree? Not sure as no one in our group would sample it.
Fungi in all likelihood.

Remnants of the old skid road. It's a wooden track along
which loggers used to drag cut logs.

With the high humidity we experienced during the hike
there was an abundance of trailside mushrooms.

One of our canine hiking companions, Geordie, knows
how to relax after a day hike.

Fortunately, no bruins were encountered. This sign was
actually directed at a trail we didn't take.

The Cascades and Southern BC

Just got back from a 1,000 km jaunt through northern WA (the Cascades including Winthrop) and southern BC (Oliver to Princeton), then home to Vancouver.

I must say, I was squirming a bit on the saddle the last couple of hours. We took Hwy 7 instead of Hwy 1; may not have been any faster but as least we moved at a steady pace. Hwy No. 1 can be a parking lot some Sunday evenings.

About 22 bikes showed up. This is part of the group in Sumas, WA.

Weather was still kinda dismal by the time we reached Concrete, WA. I've
always wondered if this place ever gets mistakenly referred to as
"Cement, WA".  (A wee bit of construction humour)  :-)

Chris, Lyle and me (reverse order) at Ross Lake, WA.

A few riders from our group pulled in after us at the lookout above Ross Lake.

Here's a few of us posing alongside our faithful steeds with a glimpse of Ross Lake
in the background.

We lunched at a place located just before the actual town of Winthrop; parking
for lots of motorcycles was the draw. Unfortunately we overwhelmed the staff
which resulted in a longer stay than anticipated. But then again, it's a leisure
weekend. Not like anyone was checking their watches.

This is the result of 2 hours sleep the night before. We've all been there.  Let's
call it a Ninja nap.

A portion of the hotel parking lot in Oliver, BC.

Reservations for 22 at a local brew pub for dinner.

They weren't kidding when they called it a "micro" brewery. To be
fair however, the tiny samplers did help me choose my dinner
beverage.

Lots of exotic bikes on display in the parking lot.

Mostly BMWs and Ducatis with this Aprilia thrown in the mix. 

Here's our micro group at Ford Lake somewhere in the hills east of Penticton.

And finally, here's me having run out of gas about 10 km east of Hope. I forgot
to top up in Prinnceton.  Doh!

Easter Long Weekend in Winnipeg

Phase 4 of our Jet Set April took us to Winnipeg for Easter long weekend to see Shauna's family and friends. Flight times proved beneficial in maximizing our stay; 4 full days. I took Tannah to Mom's place after work on Wednesday because I knew I'd be pressed for time. Our flight left at around 8 pm and with the 2 hour time change I think we were in bed in Winnipeg by 1:30 a.m.

Needless to say, we slept in on Friday morning, then went to The Forks for awhile. Since it was Good Friday, almost everything in Winnipeg was closed for a stat holiday. I'd almost forgotten what that feels like; in the Vancouver area it seems everything's open all the time. It's been that way for years. That evening we attended a play called "John". And to tell you hardly anything about the play, one of the lines was "Everyone knows a John." That's likely true, at least in North America and probably Europe.

Saturday morning we met Michele for breakfast at Clementine's in the Exchange District followed by a trip to her apartment to meet her new spaniel, Finley (!).

I think Finley liked me after I played fetch with him for a hour.

Saturday evening Shauna had gotten us "Whiteout" tickets for the arena to watch Game 6 of the Jets/Blues series; an away game, but it was a good opportunity to be a part of a Jets playoff series. Unfortunately it was to be the end of the line this season for the Jets. But at least we came away with souvenir White-out towels.

Golf, Jets, Golf!

Anybody who is anybody was there for the White-out; even Princess Leah,
danishes and all.

Jim and Marlene even attracted the attention of the roving CTV sports news crew after the game. It must have been those new jerseys; they looked like hardcore seasons tickets fans.

Somewhere on the cutting room floor...alas we did not see them on the 11:30
sports review that night.

Easter Sunday morning we jogged a bit through Assiniboine Park. A bit of new construction has begun since I was last there: Canada's Diversity Gardens, housed in a new Conservancy building.

A new Conservancy coming soon.

After sleeping in it was almost too warm for comfortable jogging.

The Jet on Portage has turned a shade redder since that uncharacteristically
lackluster Game 6.

Weekendz

Talk about a busy April! To start with, the office workload is heavier because a colleague is taking a longer than usual vacation to indulge himself and his family in the cultural delights of Turkey. He’s originally from that region of the world so he wants his kids to experience the place. Can’t fault him for that. However, it translates to lots of overtime for the rest of us in the department.

So, to provide recreational breaks this month we’ve jam-packed our social calendar. The kick-off was a weekend in Whistler with Tannah. The focus for me was to be an exploratory hike to view the “train wreck”. However, we were a bit too early in the season as thick ice-crusted snow still covered many trails under the tree canopy. We’ll try again later in the Spring or Summer. 

Substitute aerobic activity then consisted of a hike from Nita Lake to Alta Lake followed by “Happy Hour” on a Whistler Village patio on whose perimeter patio Tannah was permitted to nap. 

Day Two included a short morning jog in the crisp morning sunshine.

Employment-wise, during the workweek I travelled to Prince George and Vanderhoof for two days of site visits consisting of a large mall and a dumpy hotel.

The following weekend was unfortunately dogless, but Tannah always enjoys her stays with my Mom and her dog. Our destination was Gibson’s Landing on the Sunshine Coast for the April Fool’s Half Marathon 4-person Relay with friends of ours from our Saturday morning running group. Weather was forecasted to be iffy, but in the end the rain held off and our team posted a finish time of 2:02:03. That's about a 1/4 of an hour faster than the two half marathons that I've done as an individual participant.

As I compose this post I’m on a plane en route to Fort St John, then driving to Dawson Creek for another site visit. Then this weekend is the Sun Run in Vancouver.

No wonder I’m tired. But not bored.

Let the Whiteout Begin

My latent hockey interest has been sparked once again. The comparison of a bear awakening from hibernation is not lost on me. As soon as the playoffs start I tend to get interested. At least since the Jets are soaring.

Last night I was pleased to witness the Jets first goal of this playoff season. I was in a restaurant in Fort St. John on a dinner break prior to heading to the airport for my flight home to Vancouver.

Wait a minute...Vancouver, you say? "Aren't you a Canucks fan?" Ah, the dilemma. During what could be a multi-year wait for the home team to rebuild and adjust after the Sedins' departure I have another option open to me. I simply adopt my inlaws team as my own: the Jets. I'm already stocking up on the merch, and we're going to Winnipeg for Easter this year. I'll be sure to dress warmly for the Whiteout.

A Giant Leap for (Hu)Mankind

Do you ever have a dream where it’s super clear and vivid, and you remember it clearly, even beyond that magical 30 seconds upon awakening where you think you’ll remember that dream all day? They seem to be kinda rare, but I had one a couple of nights ago.

The scene began in what looked like Semiahmoo Bay, off the White Rock pier. I’m very familiar with that city as I grew up there. I spent every summer riding my bike down to Marine Drive as often as time would allow. An uncountable number of excursions down to the end of the pier as well.

It’s interesting how memories of different life experiences mesh together in dreams as the pier was interwoven with take-off in a float plane, which I didn’t do until decades later with my present job. The dream sequence began by being already airborne, having just taken off from somewhere adjacent to the end of the pier. Oddly enough I didn’t really have any sensation of being enclosed within the cabin space; in other words my field of vision wasn’t restricted by looking out a porthole-style window. I had a full 360 degree view of my surroundings upon take-off.

Another odd spot (but then again, what isn’t odd within a dream?) was that quite soon after take-off the sensation of being in a plane transitioned quickly to being in a vehicle, a pickup truck I think, to be more specific. After a very short time I approached what seemed to be a roadside rest stop (perhaps sky-stop?) which consisted of a gravel parking lot suspended in the sky. Just two colours were involved: grey (gravel) and blue (sky). I guess that’s the camera geek in me; even subconsciously I was drawn to the composition of grey meets blue.

My mystery conveyance pulled off the skyway (?) and parked next to a pickup already in the rest/sky stop. Then I was walking an uphill grade to my left. Soon another grey to blue transition occurred, although this time the blue turned out to be the surface of the moon! The surface was textured, but not as one is used to seeing in moon photos as in grey sand with large craters, but rather its surface more resembled the textured plastic panels (on a much larger scale) that typically line the walls in a commercial kitchen environment. (Or maybe it was more like the texture of a golf ball.) Again, another blend of life experiences as I’ve walked through many restaurant kitchens in my adult work-life.

Walking on the moon was a trip in itself. For one thing, gravity seemed to be the same as it is on Earth. And the sense of size of the moon was off by a big margin. I can’t really quantify the size of the area upon which I walked, but let’s say it was about the size of a soccer field before the curvature of the orb began to be very noticeable. It wasn’t possible to stray too far off the pitch before one felt that the decline would cause a tumble which would ultimately result in falling right off the moon into space. It wasn’t apparent what would happen then as the moon’s atmosphere in my dream was another radical departure from reality; it was blue just like the Earth’s. So I think because of the familiarity of the colour (blue), it wasn’t as though falling off the moon would result in drifting away like George Clooney did in “Gravity”. It wasn’t apparent at all what would happen, but I felt like it wasn’t to my benefit to test that boundary.

There was a blatant gap between my introduction to the moon and the conclusion of my dream. I have no recollection of what, if anything, transpired after my initial lunar step, but somehow it seemed that I was now in a space that was comprised of two interconnected geometrical shapes; a ball within a box, a round square so to speak. I was at the bottom of a staircase that would have been in the bottom corner quadrant (possibly on the Dark Side of the Moon?) of the cube looking up at a cave dwelling within the sphere (moon). Maybe the stairs were part of some sort of scaffolding. It was immediately apparent that the cave was (or had been) inhabited due to large, intricately carved mask-like decorations placed next to the entrance. No signs of life in the cave mouth and too dark to see within. I didn’t feel any tension, as if an occupant might appear and challenge our presence. And by “our presence” I mean that by this time I was feeling that I was on more a of group tour, just like the ones I’m sometimes assigned to at work when a potential buyer of a building assembles a group of professionals such as an engineer, an elevator specialist, mechanical/electrical specialist, an interior designer, an appraiser, etc. These tours can be quite large. However, with this particular tour of our closest planetary neighbor, the closing scene involved ascending a staircase up and away from the lunar cave.

Feh-boo-wary should be Lie-berry month

I think the best part of the beginning of March is the end of people mis-pronouncing our shortest month as "Feh-boo-wary".

In my opinion that's the calendar equivalent of saying the "lie-berry" is where one goes to borrow books.

Central BC Winter

As part of a portfolio of work I traveled to Quesnel and 100 Mile House a couple of weeks ago. We're swamped with work this month so it's taken me a while to blog about it.

Front row seat for the engines spooling-up prior to take-off as we waited in queue.

I never tire of the scenery in this province. These photo ops are the advantage
of low altitude flights.

I'll have to try to find out which lake this is. It's somewhere
between Whistler and Quesnel I think.

About -20 C when we landed. A bit of a shock to the system crossing
the tarmac to the terminal.

My rental vehicle was pretty plush I have to say, perfect for all the highway
driving I did this trip.

My trip also included 100 Mile House so I did a side trip to
Horse Lake to see the cabin our family used to own. It hasn't
changed much; I'm glad to see it's still there.

A frozen Horse Lake viewed from a boat launch.