Photos lately

For all my world-class whinging, I truly have been fabulous places this summer.  Places that facilitated campfires early into the northern twilight, places that have yielded estimated 8-10 pound lake and bull trout, places more spooky than graveyards, places that unite and segregate simultaneously.  

It's a beguiling sensation to be places surrounded by people yet feel so isolated.  In such close physical proximity to one another with none of the intimacy or expected closeness.  

The woods truly are an unforgiving place for contemplating losses and longings.  

Munching moose

                                       
                                      Red Columbine                                                 Toilet bowl cleaner

 Usilika Lake

 Yup, I work here

 Oh, here too

 Even here

 Monkshood

Fireweedy

Boreal buddy

Mackenzie, vol II

The super team strikes again.  While pleased to be leaving Mackenzie earlier than projected (exactly on time by our 10 day shift standards) I was bummed that meant our shift wouldn't reset with some weekends off.

Lack of weekends off with friends gifted the coveted Saturday and Sunday off accompanied by raised eyebrow decisions, frustratingly long hours, swarms of mozzies invading our trailer and more-than-expected time away from Chetwynd is souring my summer and raising urgent personal questions about future summer employment plans.  I don't live here in the home owning sense yet I'm constantly homesick for it.

It's a classic case of wanting what I don't have.  I love not having a fixed address that I pay for in any real or imagined sense, having post sent to a work address or the box of wherever I happen to be resting my head lately.  The freedom to move around at my leisure/where my wallet demands I go to fill it coupled with the desire to (temporarily) settle.

Fellow wanderer Jen maintains the home is where her feet are.  I'm tempted to agree.  Out in the bush, let's go home means let's go back to our trailers in the moz breeding depression.  When hitching up those trailers, home is Jaana's house in Chetwynd.  Returning from an international foray, home is Calgary where I tend to fly back to and have smiling family that picks me up on delayed flights from the airport. Home has been Edmonton, Red Deer, Meekatharra, Bimini, a beach hut in half a dozen countries. I continue to wrestle with this reoccurring theme of who, what and, less importantly, where home is.

Fleur de Peace

It's odd to pack my bag and be displeased about the destination.

As I prepare for another foray to Mackenzie, I'm disappointed to be leaving Chetwynd at the height of summer.  Teachers friends are off school, wildflowers are doing their thing, late days call for lingering, the rivers are clearing up and I'm off to bushcamp under the guise of making money

I continue to confront "what the H am I doing with myself?" whether on a recent heli show, up the reservoir days and days from Mackenzie or seated in my backyard enjoying a novel.  While I wait for a lightening bolt moment and not overly concerned to be questioning my life's path, meaning, meandering journeys, I've taken to enjoying those who do this every year - the flowers.

  This one is new to me.  

                                    

                                                  Poisonous                                           Pokey

A personal and perennial favourite

I adore this flowering arrangement

 Such delicate flowers

 More often seen as an ornamental than in the frorest

Waiting for our pickup, it rained, sunned and I found these rain drenched gems

Williston's wilds

There's something spooky about Mackenzie.  Not the town proper, a purpose-built forestry community so much, but the now flooded valley that waxes and wanes under the guise of a reservoir throughout the year.

Created in 1968 by the impoundment of the Peace River in the Peace Canyon near Hudson’s Hope, British Columbia, for the purpose of hydroelectric generation, this fresh (fresh in the most generous of terms) water scar dominates the landscape.


An eeriness as prevalent as the oft low lying clouds lingers in the valley.  Flooded ghosts are everywhere and an unnerving sense of their presence is everywhere.  Combined with soured relations with the first nations, it's uncomfortable, but remarkably not unpleasant, working up there.

"Up there" was truly that this previous shift.  On the same latitude as Pink Mountain, but just over the range, more than 1000 liters of fuel, three flat tires and 1.5 days of driving hauling trailers eventually delivered us back to Chetwynd after a cruisy handful of days hanging ribbons for the manual brushers.

Highlights included seeing two lynxs on back-to-back days, marveling at the volume of water coming into the reservoir from various arms and savouring the numerous flowering plants.

                   

                                 Smilacina racemosa                                       Corallorhiza trifida

Strawberry fields forever

Shaun found beach access!

Looking down the valley on our last block

Pine making their babies

Moose dipping

Only 140 km to our campsite for the night on shitty, potholed roads

One of Williston's contributors

 Shaun: Let's hire this barge so we don't have to do that horrific drive again!

One of the reservoir's scenic spots

Same same but different in the boreal

A new job that's six weeks old, is an houred up version on my last one without the benefits of being payed for extra hours, requires me to live in hilariously close quarters with coworkers 300 km up the lake from Mackenzie on a genny-ridden river flat and occasionally ferries me around in a helicopter.  

Mercifully for all the tough slogging, hilarious access, and Work Safe BC violations, magnificent mountains views are abundant - even if climbing a 60 per cent slope through dense fir, alder and willow is occasionally required.  

As larch is shedding, the bunnies are digging out their winter coats and the bears are preparing for a winter's break, I too am looking for my exit.  Another 10-day shift near Tumbler Ridge, my honey's birthday and I am Edmonton, Red Deer, Calgary, but ultimately SE Asia bound after my usual months of Canadian employment. 

 Sukunka end of the Wolverine-Sukunka rail tunnel

 Yup, I can see a glacier from my block

Down the Wolverine valley

Abies balsamea cones

Down the Murray Furry FSR

Ribes spp.

 

Loo with a view

Loo with a view, version 2.0