30 days til my fly out fishing trip, god willing the ice is gone when we get there. I sought out some advice about our egress off of the Horn plateau. I've decided to have Simpson Air come back up and get us with the float plane.
The owner of Simpson air, Ted Grant advised us that the Willow lake river is a bit rough coming off the Horn. I'll quote him as best I can, "Imagine a twenty-five foot wide chute that's nothing but jagged rocks and foamin' white water. The river drops about 400 feet over a two mile stretch."
My first thought was..."COOL!!!" Then I actually did imagine it and thought "Not Cool, that's not cool at all."
I've had a lot of close calls up here,but never because I didn't heed a warning or sound advice.
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
the dirt on mom for jason
Sorry man, there is no dirt that I'm aware of (I don't deny the existence of said dirt, just my knowledge of it) frank and margaret were just old enough that most of their transgressions went by me and mike.
I do remember she taught me how to clean the bathroom, then gave me a snoopy sticker and told me if I clean the bathroom I get a sticker. man, I think I cleaned the bathroom three times that day, and used a whole can of Comet to get those stickers. Mike, were you in on the sticker deal?
Jason I've racked my brain, checked every file in this messy foolish mind, and the bathroom cleaning for a sticker is all I got for you.
I do remember she taught me how to clean the bathroom, then gave me a snoopy sticker and told me if I clean the bathroom I get a sticker. man, I think I cleaned the bathroom three times that day, and used a whole can of Comet to get those stickers. Mike, were you in on the sticker deal?
Jason I've racked my brain, checked every file in this messy foolish mind, and the bathroom cleaning for a sticker is all I got for you.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
A hammer story
When I first came North, I'm talking about literally the first two days. I flew from Halifax to Toronto,2 hours on the ground then on to edmonton, 2 hours on the ground then on to yellowknife, 15 minutes on the ground then on to Norman Wells. I was nervous about moving away from home, scared shitless about flying and excited about a new life all at the same time...soooo I drank my face off- straight thru to Norman Wells. My buddy met me at the airport and we went back to his house for a very late supper and a few last beers. It was past midnight and still broad daylight which was unnerving.
My buddy Kirk told me at about three thirty in the morning that i would be flying out on a "bush" plane in the morning to Fort Norman to start work- "what?!!??"
I wanted to sleep for a week, but I got up and got to the plane on time. About twenty minutes later I'm on the ground meeting my new employer. Straight to the job site. Straight up the scaffolding, three tiers. I'm holding up the faschia, the long straight piece of wood that hangs under the eaves at the edge of the roof, while the other guy is nailing it in place. he's taking his time. It's a nice sunny day. It's warm. the birds are singing the bees are buzzing around. Sure seems like a lot of bees up here, some of them are pretty big too. So I'm standing there, my left arm up over my head holding up this piece of wood, the other arm hanging loosely at my side, with my brand new 18oz. framing hammer in my hand.
Suddenly there's this knifing pain in my left shoulder- in a milisecond I glance down and see this HUGE "Bee" on my shoulder. Instinct takes over I swing to swat at the thing(had to be a right hand swing, I was holding the fashcia in my left) Of course, still had that framing hammer in my mitt when I swung at the bug-"THWAAACK!!!" That hammer hit me in the head, as hard as I could swing it. Off the scaffold I go AAAAHHH!!! boom into the mud and wet moss. Head pounding, shoulder bleeding. I look up at the other guy on the scaffold and he says"you had a bulldog on your shoulder."
That frigging thing was as big as my thumb, and took an enormous divot of flesh when it took off.
The guy tells me that everywhere else they would be called a horsefly. NOT BLOODY LIKELY!
But that's what it was, a bulldog. The northern steroidal version.
It's funny but everytime a hammer goes flying by(or into) my head I think about that story.
Thanks to my wife for inspiring this post(via the hammer)and helping me tidy up the mess.
My buddy Kirk told me at about three thirty in the morning that i would be flying out on a "bush" plane in the morning to Fort Norman to start work- "what?!!??"
I wanted to sleep for a week, but I got up and got to the plane on time. About twenty minutes later I'm on the ground meeting my new employer. Straight to the job site. Straight up the scaffolding, three tiers. I'm holding up the faschia, the long straight piece of wood that hangs under the eaves at the edge of the roof, while the other guy is nailing it in place. he's taking his time. It's a nice sunny day. It's warm. the birds are singing the bees are buzzing around. Sure seems like a lot of bees up here, some of them are pretty big too. So I'm standing there, my left arm up over my head holding up this piece of wood, the other arm hanging loosely at my side, with my brand new 18oz. framing hammer in my hand.
Suddenly there's this knifing pain in my left shoulder- in a milisecond I glance down and see this HUGE "Bee" on my shoulder. Instinct takes over I swing to swat at the thing(had to be a right hand swing, I was holding the fashcia in my left) Of course, still had that framing hammer in my mitt when I swung at the bug-"THWAAACK!!!" That hammer hit me in the head, as hard as I could swing it. Off the scaffold I go AAAAHHH!!! boom into the mud and wet moss. Head pounding, shoulder bleeding. I look up at the other guy on the scaffold and he says"you had a bulldog on your shoulder."
That frigging thing was as big as my thumb, and took an enormous divot of flesh when it took off.
The guy tells me that everywhere else they would be called a horsefly. NOT BLOODY LIKELY!
But that's what it was, a bulldog. The northern steroidal version.
It's funny but everytime a hammer goes flying by(or into) my head I think about that story.
Thanks to my wife for inspiring this post(via the hammer)and helping me tidy up the mess.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Sis, you are one hundred percent correct. mom never made us do anything she wasn't doing right beside us, indeed, we even had to insist that she take a break when she would start having trouble breathing. I remember mike and I making deals with her that we would stay outside for another half hour or however many more loads of dirt if she would pack it in and go inside and rest.
I've outworked guys twice my size for twice as long in the worst kind of conditions without complaint up here(I worked construction for YEARS up here) and I've earned the respect of bosses and subordinates alike because of the work ethic I learned from mom. I don't regret it a bit, and you are right it was some of the best times growing up. But when I remember, and I reach back in time and touch that time and that place....
I've outworked guys twice my size for twice as long in the worst kind of conditions without complaint up here(I worked construction for YEARS up here) and I've earned the respect of bosses and subordinates alike because of the work ethic I learned from mom. I don't regret it a bit, and you are right it was some of the best times growing up. But when I remember, and I reach back in time and touch that time and that place....
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Now you can
I'm still figuring this stuff out, but apparently I've been discriminating against the anonymous users out there. Well no more of that.
All are welcome into the messy mind.
I got an e-mail from my brother mike, and he indeed does remember the time in the labor camp.
However, he credits that experience for making him the workaholic that he is today.
funny, to me "credit" and "blame" might be interchangeable words there.
I certainly recognise that it helped me come to terms with the inevitability of work.
WORK that demon time stealer who accepts no excuses. too cold? forget it. too hot? same thing.
I'll admit that I am a workaholic- no meetings for us though. 12 steps? jeez! who has the time?
I gotta get to work!
All are welcome into the messy mind.
I got an e-mail from my brother mike, and he indeed does remember the time in the labor camp.
However, he credits that experience for making him the workaholic that he is today.
funny, to me "credit" and "blame" might be interchangeable words there.
I certainly recognise that it helped me come to terms with the inevitability of work.
WORK that demon time stealer who accepts no excuses. too cold? forget it. too hot? same thing.
I'll admit that I am a workaholic- no meetings for us though. 12 steps? jeez! who has the time?
I gotta get to work!
Monday, April 14, 2008
work, then and now
After getting a load of gravel in for the driveway and around the front of the house, I got to remembering(asI often do). I've told Miranda about when Mike and I were kids and how Mom always had a project on the go(usually landscaping-or flood control).
Mike and I had a choice, when school was out for the summer. We could work everyday for three hours-for twenty-five cents an hour...or(wait for it...)OR we could work everyday for three hours for free. It was our choice.
Our friends knew that if they were foolish enough to drop by, they too would be enlisted or maybe conscripted is a better word.
I remember on more than one occasion one of our friends would sneak up the driveway ninja style too peek and see if it was safe to enter the yard.
I bought my first boat with money I earned in Mrs. Brown's top-soil pits. It was an inflatable and cost forty-two dollars and came from, you guessed it, Canadian tire. Mike if you read this do you remember the old EM-GEE 4 ?
Mike and I had a choice, when school was out for the summer. We could work everyday for three hours-for twenty-five cents an hour...or(wait for it...)OR we could work everyday for three hours for free. It was our choice.
Our friends knew that if they were foolish enough to drop by, they too would be enlisted or maybe conscripted is a better word.
I remember on more than one occasion one of our friends would sneak up the driveway ninja style too peek and see if it was safe to enter the yard.
I bought my first boat with money I earned in Mrs. Brown's top-soil pits. It was an inflatable and cost forty-two dollars and came from, you guessed it, Canadian tire. Mike if you read this do you remember the old EM-GEE 4 ?
Friday, April 11, 2008
That reminds me...
A comment on the family blog by my older brother Frank got me thinking.
When my brother Mike and I were kids(I think I was six when this started) my mom said that if we let her cut our hair;as opposed to going to the barber in Bear River, she would put fifty cents in a jar every time. The plan was we were going to go to Disney World on the money my mom saved by cutting our hair and making our clothes instead of buying them. It took four years (and all of dads tips) but we went to Disney World.
The last time I paid for a haircut I was fifteen years old. I've been cutting my own hair since then. Granted, I don't have to spend a lot of time cutting my hair these days. It falls out fast enough on it's own. But like the lawyer that represents himself; so too does the barber that cuts his own hair have a fool for a client.
When my brother Mike and I were kids(I think I was six when this started) my mom said that if we let her cut our hair;as opposed to going to the barber in Bear River, she would put fifty cents in a jar every time. The plan was we were going to go to Disney World on the money my mom saved by cutting our hair and making our clothes instead of buying them. It took four years (and all of dads tips) but we went to Disney World.
The last time I paid for a haircut I was fifteen years old. I've been cutting my own hair since then. Granted, I don't have to spend a lot of time cutting my hair these days. It falls out fast enough on it's own. But like the lawyer that represents himself; so too does the barber that cuts his own hair have a fool for a client.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
It got up to plus three today. I've been torturing myself with online shopping-catalog shopping from my two favorite places to shop: the fishin' hole and Canadian tire.
we're going to yellowknife tomorrow and I will be going to the crappy tire store there.
I'm not sure if it's just me, or maybe it's this way with all canadian men, but, I LOVE THAT SMELL!! , and they all smell the same. I remember going there with my mom and dad when me and my brother Mike were kids. looking at all that camping gear and new bikes, man that was the best.
But I digress, the reason for all the shopping of course is the impending summer. I like to be sitting ready, fishing rod in hand, tackle box stocked anew, waiting for the ice to crack.
This year, I will be chartering a floatplane and flying out on to the Horn plateau for some fishing.
Steven of the burnt leg will accompany me. we'll take my boat and take the willow river back down off the horn plateau. Hopefully there are no major falls or anything.
we're going to yellowknife tomorrow and I will be going to the crappy tire store there.
I'm not sure if it's just me, or maybe it's this way with all canadian men, but, I LOVE THAT SMELL!! , and they all smell the same. I remember going there with my mom and dad when me and my brother Mike were kids. looking at all that camping gear and new bikes, man that was the best.
But I digress, the reason for all the shopping of course is the impending summer. I like to be sitting ready, fishing rod in hand, tackle box stocked anew, waiting for the ice to crack.
This year, I will be chartering a floatplane and flying out on to the Horn plateau for some fishing.
Steven of the burnt leg will accompany me. we'll take my boat and take the willow river back down off the horn plateau. Hopefully there are no major falls or anything.
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