Happy solstice, puppy sitting and work pics

Behind us is the year's climax: summer solstice.  A girlfriend recently sold her house and keenly hosted a joint Solstice and Hurray-I-Sold-My-House party.  The grill fired up, friends popping by during the evening, morning, the shots flowing as she doesn't want to move more booze than necessary, new faces mingled amongst new and dear friends, ahhh, another successful small town bash.  The best part: she is moving in with Dan and I mid July.  

Our two fosters kitties have an interested woman and if that's successful then On Our Way Home has more cutie pot pie kittens in need of temporary homes.  So, I hope there's enough for one for me, one for Dan and one for the new roomie.  

How it's nearly July is still a great mystery to me.  Work's been a slow-medium pace with several early days this week which suits me fine.  Some forestry work doing streams, veg stuff and soil pits and some enviro in the mix including leachate, water and air (yes, air) sampling for a proposed coal mine south west of Chetwynd.  

Friends who recently build a house out of town are off in Ontario for another week and willingly entrusted Dan and I with their home and new puppy.  It's been very refreshing sitting on the deck looking out at the hills and aspen trees while an adorable puppy plays and falls over underfoot.  

Dan with our most recent dog sitting charge, Renfrew.  She's a three-month-old lab shepard cross and is a mega cutie pot pie.

A recent crossing to plant a reclaimed lease site between Chetwynd and Tumbler Ridge

Yup, hip waders are now a part of my work wardrobe 

Fly in day

The Pine River west of Chetwynd

Booners and berry creations

Thomas, Chris, Dan and I and bulging suitcases enroute to G.P. 

Just as I'm getting used to surprise weekend day(s) off, my exit is coming up. Usually the first one out, summer gems Thomas and Angie have already (and grudgingly, I think) left the north for school in southern locales.  Final night celebrations and ultimately tear-filled goodbyes around the fire, dessert table, sushi bar, and orgasmic Alberta pub served as a tiny tribute to true friends.  Their genuine East Coast hearts, smiles and kindness will be sorely missed.

Keen to show Dan a smattering of what I do, I packed him into my pickup for a journey down to one of my favourite areas, the Murray.  A Chetwynd resident for three years, Dan had yet to make the trip into Monkman Provincial Park to see Kineuso Falls.  Blown away by their late season volume, jealous of the river boaters at the base of the falls and curious about the fishing downstream assured me there'll be further visits.  

Dan's blueberry haul

While I zipped around the blocks checking for lammas growth, Dan grabbed an empty water bottle and collected as many blueberries as he could on the sandy pine flats.  Cleaned and sorted the following morning, he whipped up knock-out blueberry pancakes - nearly as good as my Saskatoon berry muffins.  

Saskatoon muffins turned out fabulous!

Rounding up another boat and another angler, The Mink made another appearance in a northern lake.  

Shaun captains while Colin fishes

A bit of running around on puzzle-like hydro roads eventually delivered us to Pete Lake, 38 kilometers up the Moberly.  Constrained my another engagement in town, it was a fast fish, but a good one!  Dan hooked up with a Rainbow but the wiley fella jumped the hook.  

Stern man Dan with the catch

I hooked into another, larger cousin of the escapee and was able to maneuver it into the waiting net.  My first trout as far as I know!

My Ragin Rainbow! 

Summer score: Sheri 8, Dan :0

Weekend fishing soured by motors

Alert, alert Fish Cops of Region 7B: there's poachers/cheaters zooming around on powered boats on Jackfish Lake northeast of Chetwynd, British Columbia.

Looking south down Jackfish

Whether these rogue fishermen zoomed to the far end of the lake, their wake pouring over the gunnels of a people powered canoe, to avoid the scarce enforcement officers or off to a known booner habitat on Saturday I'll never know as the unpredictable winds kept Dan and I harboured in sheltered bays and close to the launch.

Back on the fresh water after a four year hiatus, I was surprised when I hooked up after only an hour on the lake.  Used to fighting Bimini's13-pound barracudas, the northern pike offered comparatively little of a struggle.  Shrieks of excitement as the fish was landed, dehooked and photos snapped, I released it for another day.

Four more hours on the water under glorious sunshine and another four fish followed, my second hooked deeply in the guts.  Accustomed to staying with a shark doing poorly, we stayed with and swam the pike til it was sufficiently moving under its own power.

Content to paddle and keep the canoe from turning into a submarine, Dan experienced fishing on Jackfish vicariously through silence shattering squeals when I hooked up.  Not nearly as pervasive as the constant, full-on serenity wrecking motors about the lake, I was thrilled to be back on the water.  A fishing rod and reel I found on the Bearhole Lake FSR north of Tumbler Ridge last summer will be my instrument of choice this season as I hope to explore the many lakes and streams B.C. has to offer.

First pike 

 Second one, hooked deeply and bleeding.  We stayed with it til it satisfactorily swam off.  

 Prime bow location

 Stern man Dan having a go with his fly rod

Lovely loon 

Whoops!  Fish are slippery!

Another season raises satisfaction questions

Questions and conversations of "what am I doing with myself?" and "is this industry still for me?" and "do I really want to sharing a holiday trailer with coworkers deep in the woods miles and miles from friends and loved ones?" and "are the novelty, majesty, passion waning?" have been festering this season. 

My current gig requires that I pack Big Blue with wool sweaters, thermals, crib board, a scantly used bar of soap and a coworker and I sharing a space that isn't much bigger than my uncle Frank's sailboat.  Fighting free growing blocks by day and a losing battle of furnace wars by night, personal satisfaction queries are intensifying.  

This is my fourth summer in Chetwynd, fifth in B.C. and sixth in the Peace.  A wanderer by (and of) nature, traveler by choice and up-to-now willing bush bunny, longer term factors are weighing in on potential future projections.  With only each other and, more often, our own echos for company, my fellow bush bunnies and rats are heaps of fun but I long for the warmth of lovely fella and riotous laugh of girlfriends.

Mercifully surrounded by friends, family and acquaintances who are equally unsorted, trading full-time jobs for a SCUBA tank and more interested in spending a beer together than texting, I'm comforted that feelings of searching, longing, AAHHhhhh are part of (eeekk!) being a grown up.

      

Anemone patens                                     Calypso bulbosa

It's May Long in the Peace.  Grab your toques and layer up with patience, determination and northern Git 'Er Dun.

Ribes triste?

It's been a while since I saw a wolf, but their sign is everywhere from tracks to scat to kills.

Coworker Colin and I saw another black bear and two of their grizzly cousins this shift by Tumbler Ridge.

 Typical offices 

The volume coming over Kineuso Falls, the Niagara of the North, is truly staggering at the moment. 

Herbicide scenic flight

One major perk and massive downside of silviculture is the occasional helicopter flying. Two weeks ago, torrential rains washed out a handful of our roads as rising waters swept through Chetwynd, British Columbia flooding basements and making rivers out of roads. Lack of truck access takes us to the sky as trees, planters and gear are flown in all in the name of reforestation.

In addition to a planting heli-show, it's quicker and infinitely more efficient to hire a machine and check on blocks either herbicided last year or slated to be nuked this year. After a buggy and muggy morning with one of Nata's checkers, my boss picked me up for a scenic, if churning stomach afternoon flight.

Setting down to give our tummies a break, this was our view

Lifting off again

Sukunka area

Andy, a true, rare and unfortunately soon retiring gem

Between Tumbler Ridge and Chetwynd

Monkman Pass Memorial Trail

In late June, six hikers from across Canada pulled on their hiking boots, grabbed granola bars and donned weighted packs for an overnight trip on the Monkman Pass Memorial Trail that followed the footsteps of pioneers that dared to follow their dreams creating an unforgettable corner of the Peace Country.

The park and the cascading waterfalls it contains were named after the men and women who unflinchingly dedicated their lives to the area, and it was a pleasure to share the trail with their memory and spirits.



Group photo at the beginning



Lunch spot at ~9 km



Crossing the mighty Murray



Another crossing. This is way scarier than it looks.





By our campsite



No bears here



My Creator's canvas.



Smooth out.