Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Friday, September 19, 2008
Golfing for the first time
I had lived in 100 Mile House for four months and managed to avoid picking up a single golf club.
I had never golfed before, well, besides mini golf and beer at Castle Fun Park in Abbotsford; but I was told that didn’t count.
100 Mile is a golf town; succumbing to pressure, I decided to give it a try — and the Crime Stoppers tourney at the 108 on Sept. 14 seemed the perfect opportunity. All I needed was the most patient person in the world to volunteer his or her golf expertise and time to my cause; I found that person in Val Nickless.
Val was nice enough to not only volunteer her time, but also her clubs.
As an avid golfer, I understood what a possible sacrifice this was for Val and I vowed to treat her clubs as the precious pieces they were; but what I was really excited about was driving the cart.
When I helped Val lug her golf bag onto the cart, I was slightly intimidated with the amount of clubs sticking out of the top.
“I only brought half of my clubs,” said Val.
I got into the driver’s seat of the cart and pressed the gas pedal. Its lawnmower-like engine whirred to life and we took off to the number 10 hole, where I would be starting.
At the 10, Val handed me a ball and a handful of tees. She told me to grab the number five club and showed me how to hold and swing the thing.
The stance I took felt awkward; my first practice swing left much to be desired. But when the club made contact with the ball and sent it flying straight out onto the fairway, I couldn’t help but feel a small sense of satisfaction.
I also realized how one could twist his or her body up while playing; and here I had been laughing at Tiger Woods for giving up last season to injury.
As much as I loved driving the cart, I found myself running after the ball more times than riding and was beginning to work up an appetite — by the second green.
My shots weren’t all that bad, commented Val. And, lucky for me, she kept me from making golf faux pas, like using a nine club when I needed a putter, shoving my club in the ball washer or running over other players with the cart.
But, a few greens later, my famine faded to fatigue under the low September sun and my shots started to go astray.
Somehow, though, I managed to stay on the fairway the entire round and ended with a nine-hole score of 76, owed all to my caddie and coach.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Almost There
Her mind was a thoroughly erased blackboard, one
without even a smattering of chalk dust
around its edges. Waves of sleep were beginning
to cascade through her and her face relaxed,
her body reverting to its resting position
without thought.
If a black can become blacker, her mind was creating the shade;
her brain was devoid of thought and feeling. Sleep
would finally allow her through
its elite gates. She had waited so long…
That’s when she felt it: A nudge on her left shoulder.
Her arm twitched, and her brain flickered,
but the rest of her did little
to react to the movement. And that’s when
she felt it again, the hard edges of the spine scraping
across her shoulder, up to her neck. Suddenly
her mind was letting in thoughts,
allowing them to scrawl themselves across
her imagination. She clenched her eyes shut, determined.
Her face became taut.
“Not again,” she whispered
into her increasingly uncomfortable pillow.
And then a page dragged across her face,
leaving a stinging line of blood in its wake.
“But I’m so close!” she yelled, her words
filling her crowding brain
as they echoed in the empty room.
Her bed may have well become a cutlery drawer,
and she shifted and turned
on the now unbearable mattress.
“All right!” she said at last,
reaching for the small light switch above the bed nightstand.
“Just one more chapter!”
The book had won again.
without even a smattering of chalk dust
around its edges. Waves of sleep were beginning
to cascade through her and her face relaxed,
her body reverting to its resting position
without thought.
If a black can become blacker, her mind was creating the shade;
her brain was devoid of thought and feeling. Sleep
would finally allow her through
its elite gates. She had waited so long…
That’s when she felt it: A nudge on her left shoulder.
Her arm twitched, and her brain flickered,
but the rest of her did little
to react to the movement. And that’s when
she felt it again, the hard edges of the spine scraping
across her shoulder, up to her neck. Suddenly
her mind was letting in thoughts,
allowing them to scrawl themselves across
her imagination. She clenched her eyes shut, determined.
Her face became taut.
“Not again,” she whispered
into her increasingly uncomfortable pillow.
And then a page dragged across her face,
leaving a stinging line of blood in its wake.
“But I’m so close!” she yelled, her words
filling her crowding brain
as they echoed in the empty room.
Her bed may have well become a cutlery drawer,
and she shifted and turned
on the now unbearable mattress.
“All right!” she said at last,
reaching for the small light switch above the bed nightstand.
“Just one more chapter!”
The book had won again.
I am
If I could cease the picking of my canvas scabs
with my paintbrush,
then I wouldn’t be an artist.
If I could stop scratching the itch of scrawl and script,
then I would not be a writer.
If my hunger for flesh
was ever satisfied,
then I would not be a lover.
And if I could snuff the fury
that burns acres of anger within me,
then I would not be a warrior.
with my paintbrush,
then I wouldn’t be an artist.
If I could stop scratching the itch of scrawl and script,
then I would not be a writer.
If my hunger for flesh
was ever satisfied,
then I would not be a lover.
And if I could snuff the fury
that burns acres of anger within me,
then I would not be a warrior.
Climate change may not mean warming
Published in the Sept. 21 issue of the 100 Mile Free Press:
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/
Once people got past the initial alarming hoopla surround climate change,
some British Columbians tried to see a silver lining.
With all the blame focused on global warming for problems like the spread of the pine beetle and the potential drowning of the city of Richmond, some thought, “Well, at least there will be more sunny days.”
But with unseasonably cool temperatures, residents are starting to wonder whether the tropical paradise they thought climate change would bring is actually a potential arctic nightmare.
But maybe that’s what people need to wake up to the problem; if the threat of heat didn’t cause them to make personal, environmentally-friendly changes than perhaps the prospect of being banished into an eternal ice prison will.
Driving an older, unkempt car is frowned upon now because of its heavy carbon output; but those same people who object to gas-guzzling vehicles drive gas-powered mowers around their lawns and leave their vehicles running while they run into convenience stores. Essentially, they make up for it.
Political leaders don’t offer the best example of green living, either; the amount of travelling they do just for photo ops could be halted and the resulting energy saved could probably bring down the price of gas by 10 cents.
And now, with election campaigning, office helpfuls and hopefuls will be offering more carbon into the atmosphere than their speeches do in office.
But stopping the spread of Yukon-like weather is only half the incentive.
Usually things good for the environment go hand-in-hand with things good for a person’s health: cycling, using push mowers and avoiding fast-food drive-thrus.
Hopefully, with all the ominous problems climate change threatens us with, there will be positive change for people as a whole.
Perhaps obesity levels will go down with the increase in forced physical activity; maybe air quality will improve and asthma incidents will decrease.
For those inland, more frequent frost may be a better motivator than fun-in-the-sun.
Of course, the opposite might be true for those on the coast — especially for those who can’t swim.
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/
Once people got past the initial alarming hoopla surround climate change,
some British Columbians tried to see a silver lining.
With all the blame focused on global warming for problems like the spread of the pine beetle and the potential drowning of the city of Richmond, some thought, “Well, at least there will be more sunny days.”
But with unseasonably cool temperatures, residents are starting to wonder whether the tropical paradise they thought climate change would bring is actually a potential arctic nightmare.
But maybe that’s what people need to wake up to the problem; if the threat of heat didn’t cause them to make personal, environmentally-friendly changes than perhaps the prospect of being banished into an eternal ice prison will.
Driving an older, unkempt car is frowned upon now because of its heavy carbon output; but those same people who object to gas-guzzling vehicles drive gas-powered mowers around their lawns and leave their vehicles running while they run into convenience stores. Essentially, they make up for it.
Political leaders don’t offer the best example of green living, either; the amount of travelling they do just for photo ops could be halted and the resulting energy saved could probably bring down the price of gas by 10 cents.
And now, with election campaigning, office helpfuls and hopefuls will be offering more carbon into the atmosphere than their speeches do in office.
But stopping the spread of Yukon-like weather is only half the incentive.
Usually things good for the environment go hand-in-hand with things good for a person’s health: cycling, using push mowers and avoiding fast-food drive-thrus.
Hopefully, with all the ominous problems climate change threatens us with, there will be positive change for people as a whole.
Perhaps obesity levels will go down with the increase in forced physical activity; maybe air quality will improve and asthma incidents will decrease.
For those inland, more frequent frost may be a better motivator than fun-in-the-sun.
Of course, the opposite might be true for those on the coast — especially for those who can’t swim.
This year's race begins
Published in the Sept. 12 issue of the 100 Mile Free Press:
We have a federal government who can’t see west of Ontario and north of Sudbury; we have a provincial government who isn’t even sitting this fall to avoid questions over a wage scandal.
Canadians have a federal election hanging over their heads, with municipal races also revving up. And before we know it, British Columbians will be at the provincial polls as well.
But besides the scattering of civic-candidates’ signs and flyers, it’s always been federal elections’ bombardment on voters in every available media that can’t be ignored.
The Conservatives are not very good at keeping a secret; on the contrary, they are horrible. Long before the election was even called, citizens were receiving propaganda by way of electronic and paper mail — also known as spam and birdcage liner — touting the greatness of the Tories and the idiocy of Stéphane Dion’s Green Shift; they caused a big stir when they wanted to put an attack ad on Ontario gas station service screens, trying to sway customers with an over-used photo of Dion holding out in his upturned palms in an act of submissive shruggery.
Daily, in my email inbox, I receive transmissions from all parties blaming each other for everything from global warming to offending Canadians with pooping puffins; imagine if they worked as hard at the welfare of the country as they do at attacking each other?
The Conservatives say Dion is “a weak leader who doesn’t know where he stands and doesn’t know where he’s going.” The Liberals say, “Mr. Harper has proven that he’s entirely incapable of providing real leadership.”
They might as well be calling each other “buttface” in an elementary schoolyard.
The most unsurprising event in this race thus far is that David Emerson will not be seeking re-election.
Safe to say, his writing was on the wall — in block letters; the only way he’d have a hope in heck of regaining his seat is if he moved constituencies — perhaps to Zambia.
But, should the Tories be back in office, the close colleague of Harper is sure to find some sort of cushy employment in Ottawa.
The Conservatives, on their website, claim Canadians have a choice between two leaders, two visions and two records. “The choice is clear.”
Where is Jack Layton in all this? Is he really so off the map?
As far as leaders go, when you review the competition – the control freak and the flip-flopper – Layton, as an individual, looks great; too bad his party doesn’t look as appealing.
So who do we choose: the Dictator, the Muppet or the Mustache?
Harper wants you to know he is “a leader who has put the aspirations of families — and the pressures they face — at the heart of national decision-making.”
(Unless you’re gay or faced with an unexpected pregnancy.)
On the net, I think Dion said he wants to reconcile the people and the environment.
(But at what cost?)
Layton says “It’s time for a decent minimum wage, it’s time for a break on ATM fees, on affordable education, child care and prescription drugs.”
(But let’s go soft on criminals.)
But hey — there's still the Green Party (who aren't even allowed in the televised leaders' debate).
We have a federal government who can’t see west of Ontario and north of Sudbury; we have a provincial government who isn’t even sitting this fall to avoid questions over a wage scandal.
Canadians have a federal election hanging over their heads, with municipal races also revving up. And before we know it, British Columbians will be at the provincial polls as well.
But besides the scattering of civic-candidates’ signs and flyers, it’s always been federal elections’ bombardment on voters in every available media that can’t be ignored.
The Conservatives are not very good at keeping a secret; on the contrary, they are horrible. Long before the election was even called, citizens were receiving propaganda by way of electronic and paper mail — also known as spam and birdcage liner — touting the greatness of the Tories and the idiocy of Stéphane Dion’s Green Shift; they caused a big stir when they wanted to put an attack ad on Ontario gas station service screens, trying to sway customers with an over-used photo of Dion holding out in his upturned palms in an act of submissive shruggery.
Daily, in my email inbox, I receive transmissions from all parties blaming each other for everything from global warming to offending Canadians with pooping puffins; imagine if they worked as hard at the welfare of the country as they do at attacking each other?
The Conservatives say Dion is “a weak leader who doesn’t know where he stands and doesn’t know where he’s going.” The Liberals say, “Mr. Harper has proven that he’s entirely incapable of providing real leadership.”
They might as well be calling each other “buttface” in an elementary schoolyard.
The most unsurprising event in this race thus far is that David Emerson will not be seeking re-election.
Safe to say, his writing was on the wall — in block letters; the only way he’d have a hope in heck of regaining his seat is if he moved constituencies — perhaps to Zambia.
But, should the Tories be back in office, the close colleague of Harper is sure to find some sort of cushy employment in Ottawa.
The Conservatives, on their website, claim Canadians have a choice between two leaders, two visions and two records. “The choice is clear.”
Where is Jack Layton in all this? Is he really so off the map?
As far as leaders go, when you review the competition – the control freak and the flip-flopper – Layton, as an individual, looks great; too bad his party doesn’t look as appealing.
So who do we choose: the Dictator, the Muppet or the Mustache?
Harper wants you to know he is “a leader who has put the aspirations of families — and the pressures they face — at the heart of national decision-making.”
(Unless you’re gay or faced with an unexpected pregnancy.)
On the net, I think Dion said he wants to reconcile the people and the environment.
(But at what cost?)
Layton says “It’s time for a decent minimum wage, it’s time for a break on ATM fees, on affordable education, child care and prescription drugs.”
(But let’s go soft on criminals.)
But hey — there's still the Green Party (who aren't even allowed in the televised leaders' debate).
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Badger counting
When I first noticed the Badger Crossing sign on the north border of 100 Mile, I thought it was a joke.
On the way to Seymour Mountain in North Vancouver, motorists are entertained by various joke animal-crossing signs, like camel. I didn't realize badgers resided in BC.
When I think of badgers, Wind in the Willows seems to come to mind. What I didn't realize was Mr. Badger wouldn't have gotten along with
Mole and the other inhabitants of the Wild Wood - he would have eaten them.
Then again, as student and researcher Richard Klafki told me, English badgers are not as tough as their North American counterparts.
I went along with Klafki on a badger count, part of the Cariboo Badger Project. Klafki and others from the Ministry of Environment, Ministry of Transportation and Thompson Rivers University are using radio telemetry to track members of the dwindling badger population in the province.
Badgers have few natural predators; the steel monsters driven by humans are what really picks them off.
Roger Packham, biologist with the Ministry of Environment, set me up with Klafki, a Master's student doing his thesis on badgers.
We set out on a Sunday morning, driving along Horse Lake Road toward our Bridge Lake area destination.
Along the way, Klafki tried to enlighten me on the ways of the badgers.
He laughed when I asked if I could pet one, and told me we'd be lucky if we even saw one from afar during our trek.
He said, contrary to popular belief, badgers are not rodents - they are part of the weasel family - and they are not interested in eating household pets.
Also contrary to a popular Internet fad video (available at www.badgerbadgerbadger.com) - in which multiple badgers dance about while singing "Badger, badger, badger, badger; mushroom, mushroom! Oh no, snake!" - badgers are not afraid of snakes - they'll eat those, too.
Once we reached a known badger's territory, Klafki turned on the equipment in his truck and I could hear a faint beep.
"That's a female who has two kits,' he said.
He explained 10 badgers - five male, five female - had been trapped and implanted with transmitters.
"Badgers don't really have necks, so it's hard to fit them with a radio collar."
Occasionally Klafki would exit the vehicle and hold out a long antenna to figure out the location of the badger.
Soon we were out of the vehicle, trudging across a vast field, Klafki holding the antenna above his head. The beeping was growing stronger and more frequent, and he pointed to a field and said the badger was in a particular mound of grass.
And that's when we saw a tiny, striped head poke out of the ground.
Mother badger was inspecting us; she was only a few feet away. She slow
ly dragged her pudgy body from her temporary den and sat on a mound of dirt, lazily scratching her side.
She didn't seem exactly comfortable with our presence, but she wasn't bursting out of the hole like the rabbit from Monty Python's Holy Grail, either.
After a while, two more striped faces could be seen emerging from the ground, and mother shepherded her kits a few feet away from the strange visitors.
Klafki and I backed away, leaving the family and allowing mom to hunt the plentiful ground squirrels that whistled warnings around us.
On the way to Seymour Mountain in North Vancouver, motorists are entertained by various joke animal-crossing signs, like camel. I didn't realize badgers resided in BC.
When I think of badgers, Wind in the Willows seems to come to mind. What I didn't realize was Mr. Badger wouldn't have gotten along with
Mole and the other inhabitants of the Wild Wood - he would have eaten them.Then again, as student and researcher Richard Klafki told me, English badgers are not as tough as their North American counterparts.
I went along with Klafki on a badger count, part of the Cariboo Badger Project. Klafki and others from the Ministry of Environment, Ministry of Transportation and Thompson Rivers University are using radio telemetry to track members of the dwindling badger population in the province.
Badgers have few natural predators; the steel monsters driven by humans are what really picks them off.
Roger Packham, biologist with the Ministry of Environment, set me up with Klafki, a Master's student doing his thesis on badgers.
We set out on a Sunday morning, driving along Horse Lake Road toward our Bridge Lake area destination.
Along the way, Klafki tried to enlighten me on the ways of the badgers.
He laughed when I asked if I could pet one, and told me we'd be lucky if we even saw one from afar during our trek.
He said, contrary to popular belief, badgers are not rodents - they are part of the weasel family - and they are not interested in eating household pets.
Also contrary to a popular Internet fad video (available at www.badgerbadgerbadger.com) - in which multiple badgers dance about while singing "Badger, badger, badger, badger; mushroom, mushroom! Oh no, snake!" - badgers are not afraid of snakes - they'll eat those, too.
Once we reached a known badger's territory, Klafki turned on the equipment in his truck and I could hear a faint beep.
"That's a female who has two kits,' he said.
He explained 10 badgers - five male, five female - had been trapped and implanted with transmitters.
"Badgers don't really have necks, so it's hard to fit them with a radio collar."
Occasionally Klafki would exit the vehicle and hold out a long antenna to figure out the location of the badger.
Soon we were out of the vehicle, trudging across a vast field, Klafki holding the antenna above his head. The beeping was growing stronger and more frequent, and he pointed to a field and said the badger was in a particular mound of grass.
And that's when we saw a tiny, striped head poke out of the ground.
Mother badger was inspecting us; she was only a few feet away. She slow
ly dragged her pudgy body from her temporary den and sat on a mound of dirt, lazily scratching her side.She didn't seem exactly comfortable with our presence, but she wasn't bursting out of the hole like the rabbit from Monty Python's Holy Grail, either.
After a while, two more striped faces could be seen emerging from the ground, and mother shepherded her kits a few feet away from the strange visitors.
Klafki and I backed away, leaving the family and allowing mom to hunt the plentiful ground squirrels that whistled warnings around us.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Recent columns
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/25489479.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/24258429.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/25489484.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/24258544.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/22821359.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/20818344.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/22821349.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/24258429.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/25489484.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/24258544.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/22821359.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/20818344.html
http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_cariboo/100milefreepress/opinion/22821349.html
Monitoring a budworm spray
It was early - 3:20 a.m. early - when my alarm woke me. I dressed cozily and drove to the 108 Airport where Ministry of Forests and Range entomologist Leo Rankin was waiting for me.
He introduced me to air coordinator Don Wright and helicopter pilot Jay Camille; they were there, in these wee hours, to combat an invisible enemy: the spruce budworm.
"We'll be flying in the helicopter over the Air Tractors (planes) as they spray the forest," Rankin told me. "They'll be spraying BTK all around the South Cariboo today."
Then Camille shared his mandatory safety-spiel with me, which my sleep drenched brain didn't seem to absorb.
"So, in case of engine failure, it's imperative that you..." I just nodded, trying to keep my eyes open.
"All right, we're ready to take off," said Camille after showing me how to do up my seatbelt.
I climbed into the back of the helicopter, sitting next to Rankin. He helped
me with the belt and talked about bugs while passing me my headset.I learned the spruce budworm was more interested in Douglas firs than spruce around the local forests, eating the buds and needles of the coniferous foliage until they resembled something Charlie Brown would pick out for his Christmas tree.
"The budworm doesn't kill the trees immediately," said Rankin. "It weakens them so other pests, like the Douglas fir beetle, can take advantage."
By this time the rotor was in full spin, and my stomach lurched as we lifted off the ground. I took out my video camera and filmed our ascent into the still-dark sky.
We flew over the 108, and then over miles and miles of red trees. I thought the pine problem looked bad from the ground; it looked ten-fold worse from the air.
The pine beetle epidemic is over, said Rankin. "Virtually all of our mature pine is dead. That's why we have to protect what trees we have left."
We spotted one of the Air Tractors streaking BTK (the bacteria used to kill the budworm) over the woods near Alberta Lake.
Rankin said they must spray early as the product needs specific climate conditions to be affective.
We circled the plane so I could get good photos and footage of the spray; but the circling was starting to coax my breakfast back out.
"Do you have a good shot?" I heard Camille say in my headphones.
"Yes, thank you," I replied. The truth was I had no idea, but the helicopter had to steady or else my fellow passengers were going to see Cheerios all over the cabin.
I must have looked how I felt, because Rankin asked me if I was OK. Camille brought the copter down in a middle-of-nowhere forest, where ground coordinator Joan Westfall and her dog were waiting.
Westfall's job was to monitor the spray from the ground, checking weather readings every few minutes; she broke open some fir buds and showed me the munching menace this whole operation was about: a very tiny black worm.
The mosquitoes were horrendous, though. My face was so covered with bugs I felt like a bee-beard fellow I once saw on TV.
I didn't know what was worse: twirling about in a warm, cramped helicopter or being eaten alive by blood suckers.
But all too soon we were back in the air, heading back to the 108 to watch the planes reload and refuel.
"Now we'll be heading out for another round of spraying. You up for it?" Rankin asked me.
I made some excuse that I had enough information for my article and than
ked the team for bringing me along.I would have stayed but my stomach and my skin just couldn't take another trip.
Move to the Cariboo
Until I moved here two months ago, I had never ventured north of North Vancouver for an extended amount of time. Lower Mainland temperatures rarely sneak below minus five, so, consequently, I had never experienced anything colder.
I didn't contact extreme cold until last February, while at a conference in Ontario. Stepping outside the hotel in Ottawa felt like a million needles stabbing my face with a horde of gremlins chewing off my ears.
As the frosty wind cut into my eyes, I swore I would live in Coquitlam forever.
Fast forward a few months: I'm offered jobs from around the province, but I am skeptical of the weather. Potential employers try to reassure me with comforting words:
"The thing about (insert Northern community here) is there are four distinct seasons."
"It's a dry cold here, not like the wet of the coast that you can feel in your bones. Minus 25 here feels like minus five down there."
"Snow? Barely."
"Rain? Never"
"Winters are always sunny, the skies are so clear. No one gets Seasonal Affective Disorder here!"
"The mosquitoes aren't so bad."
Convinced the Cariboo was some sort of year-round paradise, I moved up here and again heard the repetitive weather-related rhetoric. But some of the stories changed:
"Well, we had a bit of snow this year; but nothing major."
"There was snow, but the roads are always quickly cleared, and easy to drive on because of the pebbles Interior Roads puts on them."
"The mosquitoes are only bad because of the wet spring."
Now, as I become more settled and comfortable in the community, people seem to be a bit more honest:
"The huge rocks dumped onto the roads during the winter will destroy your windshield, over and over."
"It gets darn freezing here; you need a block heater for your car."
Regardless of the weather or the fictitious tales, I'm glad I moved.
But my tune might change come winter.
Ride for the first time
As soon as I walked up to the barn, I knew TJ was for me. He seemed a gentle spirit, not as intimidating as the other horses.
But the guide laughed at me.
"I think TJ's part donkey," said Bryce Stewart, employee at the Hills Health Ranch and horseback trail ride expert.
I ignored him.
TJ was saddled and ready to go - somewhat. He seemed a bit hungrier and sleepier than the other larger, more regal-looking horses, but I empathized - it was 35 C outside and now he had to exercise with someone on his back.
After a brief safety instruction, I mounted my steed in one swift jump. Proud of myself, I patiently waited while the other ride participants were assigned horses according to size and experience and used the time to braid TJ's stiff mane.
By the time we were ready to go, TJ was the only
horse in the line with a mohawk.The initial steps on to the trail were easy. I wondered how anyone could fall off a horse.
But that all changed when TJ burst into a trot to catch up to his stable mates.
And it got more intense when, halfway through the hour-long journey, the group was split into two.
"The fast group comes with me," fearless leader Bryce announced. "We'll be trotting and cantering; so I recommend the slow group if you're a beginner."
I felt confident in TJ's sure-feet and opted for the fast group, but it seems my own feet weren't as sturdy in their stirrups.
I bounced to-and-fro in the saddle, and held on for dear life positive I would be flying off the cream-coloured creature at any moment.
The bouncing wasn't the only surprise; I was unaware how much faltering the horses did. I watched them occasionally stumble and wondered how they didn't fall on their faces more often.
But between contracting shaken-person syndrome and fearing for my skull, I annoyed the group with squeals of glee as we travelled through the brush.
And just like that the ride was over, and I was standing next to TJ back at the barn. I expected him to nudge me good-bye, but he ignored me once I dismounted, resuming the search for hay I had so rudely interrupted by riding him.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Monday, June 09, 2008
A few views on the news
Protester should pay up
In October, 2005, a protestor that couldn't let go of the plight of teachers picketed the Burnaby Bus Centre and halted bus service.
I had rushed that morning to get ready for one of my two jobs, waiting to catch a bus from Hastings and Boundary that would then drop me off at Commercial so I could reach my final destination of Princess and Hastings. A silly system, but one I had to live with.
I ran down my apartment-complex steps to stand in the October shitty weather to wait for a bus that never showed.
When I realized the bus was not going to show, I ran to my car and braved the morning rush hour. Upon arrival at work - late - there were very few spaces left to park.
I must have worked too close to an intersection. When I went outside after work to retrieve my car, it was gone - towed.
Donna Peterson, the protester, probably didn't realize how much she was disrupting commuters' lives that day. She probably didn't think about the domino effect that could result. Or maybe she just didn't care about the consequences of he actions.
Coast Mountain Bus Co. is considering legal action against her. Good.
Dicks and dogs
Was Jeremy Pete, the guy (hesitation in calling him a "man") who put his week-old daughter up for sale on Craigslist just joking around? Who cares. Pete, who was involved in the death of Vancouver Police dog Nitro (in New Westminster), really does sound like a "dick," for lack of a harsher word. Dogs and babies alike may be safer if he were behind bars.
View should include the trees
Queen Elizabeth Park's tree management are considering the cutting of 70 trees that are blocking the view.
Life in BC means living with trees. They should be celebrated, especially in parks. Aren't we as proud of our trees as we are of our metropolis?
I'd welcome trees blocking my view of an ugly city, anytime.
A little girl who loved horses
The vehicular homicide of 4-year-old Alexa Renee Middelaer in Delta on May 17 will probably go down as one of the saddest stories of 2008. Not only was a beautiful little girl's life stolen away, but the fact charges against the drunk, speeding driver have still not been laid makes the murder even more devastating and frustrating. Condolences go out to the family.
In October, 2005, a protestor that couldn't let go of the plight of teachers picketed the Burnaby Bus Centre and halted bus service.
I had rushed that morning to get ready for one of my two jobs, waiting to catch a bus from Hastings and Boundary that would then drop me off at Commercial so I could reach my final destination of Princess and Hastings. A silly system, but one I had to live with.
I ran down my apartment-complex steps to stand in the October shitty weather to wait for a bus that never showed.
When I realized the bus was not going to show, I ran to my car and braved the morning rush hour. Upon arrival at work - late - there were very few spaces left to park.
I must have worked too close to an intersection. When I went outside after work to retrieve my car, it was gone - towed.
Donna Peterson, the protester, probably didn't realize how much she was disrupting commuters' lives that day. She probably didn't think about the domino effect that could result. Or maybe she just didn't care about the consequences of he actions.
Coast Mountain Bus Co. is considering legal action against her. Good.
Dicks and dogs
Was Jeremy Pete, the guy (hesitation in calling him a "man") who put his week-old daughter up for sale on Craigslist just joking around? Who cares. Pete, who was involved in the death of Vancouver Police dog Nitro (in New Westminster), really does sound like a "dick," for lack of a harsher word. Dogs and babies alike may be safer if he were behind bars.
View should include the trees
Queen Elizabeth Park's tree management are considering the cutting of 70 trees that are blocking the view.
Life in BC means living with trees. They should be celebrated, especially in parks. Aren't we as proud of our trees as we are of our metropolis?
I'd welcome trees blocking my view of an ugly city, anytime.
A little girl who loved horses
The vehicular homicide of 4-year-old Alexa Renee Middelaer in Delta on May 17 will probably go down as one of the saddest stories of 2008. Not only was a beautiful little girl's life stolen away, but the fact charges against the drunk, speeding driver have still not been laid makes the murder even more devastating and frustrating. Condolences go out to the family.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
Braggin'
An editorial I wrote for the 100 Mile Free Press was picked up in William's Lake, as well:
http://web.bcnewsgroup.com/portals-code/monitor.cgi?paper=37&id=1223477
Not a huge deal... But worth notin'.
Update:
Also published in Kelowna:
http://web.bcnewsgroup.com/portals-code/monitor.cgi?paper=113&id=1230003
And Langley:
http://web.bcnewsgroup.com/portals-code/monitor.cgi?paper=47&id=1224971
And Chilliwack:
http://web.bcnewsgroup.com/portals-code/monitor.cgi?paper=39&id=1230082
http://web.bcnewsgroup.com/portals-code/monitor.cgi?paper=37&id=1223477
Not a huge deal... But worth notin'.
Update:
Also published in Kelowna:
http://web.bcnewsgroup.com/portals-code/monitor.cgi?paper=113&id=1230003
And Langley:
http://web.bcnewsgroup.com/portals-code/monitor.cgi?paper=47&id=1224971
And Chilliwack:
http://web.bcnewsgroup.com/portals-code/monitor.cgi?paper=39&id=1230082
Monday, May 19, 2008
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