Wow weekend!

This past weekend has been one of those rare ones where I see the majority of my friends in Chetwynd, rest up and recharge for the week ahead and have a clean(er) house.

Another girlfriend has left town for a promising work opportunity and she called together her town friends and coworkers from the last two years for one last bash on Friday.  Pub-filling laughter bounced off the wooded walls before we spilled into the Indian summer night and wished each other well with intentions of staying in touch.

Happy and (mildy) hungover the next morning, Dan and I set out on bicycles to meet friends for breakfast at the pub we had left mere hours before.  In small-town style, we saw nearly all our friends that morning.  At the post office, thrift store, library, in their yard, ahh.

Mild house and yard work filled the time until we popped out to friends house outside town for dinner.  A stellar meal was in the making - roast moose and garden spuds, carrots, onion.

We resigned ourselves to a sleepover, made arrangements for a friend to come to the house and feed our foster kitties when another friend dropped in after (unsuccessfully) hunting the same animal we had just eaten.  Conversation flowed, laughter filled the vaulted ceilings and we bummed a ride back into town for the night.

A delightfully leisurely day followed with light walks, board games, BBQs and kitty cuddle time.  

It's beginning to end

As a Swedish girlfriend (working in Norway) is lamenting summer's end and equally anticipating fall's transition, I too am noticing:

The dawn and dusk chill that comes too soon to the north.  

Days are noticeably shorter and August is not yet out.  

Leaves are turning.  

My vegetable garden is getting harvest-ready.  

It's difficult for me to process that summer is winding down when I feel I've had so little of it.  Cheated out of a "normal bush season" by a lay off and subsequent scramble for employment I have not spent nearly as much time in the woods as I usually do.  

While I have caught some of the seasonal boreal changes on day hikes and dog walks, truly I have missed the full season experience of looking for my favourite boreal gems and tracking their progress from leaf out to flowering to seed/berries! to die back.  

Fall is approaching and so is a time for contemplation, dream time and mentally, physically and emotionally regrouping.  

Fall snow

Nervously glancing at the forecast, I grudgingly changed into my winter cycling tires.  Man! Am I ever slow!  Accustomed to city slicks for far too long, the new mountain bike tires feel like clown shoes on my otherwise speedy steed. 

My three kilometer journey to my still-new-to-me part-time job lengthened to 16 minutes from 12, I couldn't comfortably use high gear, the sound from the tires was deafening.  With pre, and in all likelihood real, winter so hard in the north, it’s no great mystery why it’s barely populated by a smattering of small towns. 

Comfortably care and car free, I’ve been zooming around Chetwynd on a borrowed bicycle for the sunny summer and now frosty fall.  It's a slower, ponderous pace well suited to northern living.  Constantly conscious of how much I buy at the shops, the spacing of my appointments and the highly volatile weather, I've embraced my commute.  In addition to light (now moderate) exercise, caffeinated teas are pretty much a thing of the past for me as I arrive clear headed, smiling and rosy cheeked.  

  

"Good for you!" I'm practically knocked over from a high five upon arriving somewhere slightly sweaty and disheveled.  "I could have picked you up," as I carry my dripping bike into the back room at work on a soggy morning.  I continue to stand by my decision to take to my feet, pedals, and crazed car shares in a town where one truck per person is viewed as not enough.  

Mummies and puppies

Charged with a friend's high energy Golden Doodle while he was in the Lower Mainland and Okanagan, my visiting mother and I were often accompanied on journeys around Chetwynd.

Up Baldy with Mizuno and Wednesday.

Twice daily strolls around the neighbourhood and beyond.  Backyard guest at a BBQ.

Mom and I managed a solo half day hike to Bergeron Cliffs to see the Murray Valley in all her fall splendor. What a view! 

Baldy summit romp

These aspen haven't turned yet

North of Hudson's Hope

Half way up Baldy

Mom arriving at the  Bergeron Cliffs lookout

Looking out

Looking towards the wind farm

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