9/23/07: Twilight Watch, Salt Springs, and Chainsaw Bears

Friday, Duncan, British Columbia

Hello friends. It seems to be getting busier as time goes by. Ah, less time at "Inns" and more with friends. So, I thought the Hazells lived on Salt Spring Island, but that was a mis-apprehension. They live in a little town (at least the postal code has this name) called Duncan, about two-thirds the way down Vancouver Island from Nanaimo. So took my first ferry ride, which took about three hours to get on. I learned that I need to make reservations, which I did for the ferry I took two days loater to Anacortes.

Becky was teaching a Level 5 in Victoria, so was staying down there for the weekend. So Mark and his son Stephen greeted me. Mark is a really good cook. He had some clam spaghetti available that was delicious. I discovered a connction with Stephen, who's the same age as my daughter Kate, 26, and is studying video game construction at Simon Frasier University in Vancouver. I mentioned to him that I had just finished "Twilight Watch" by that Russian psychiatrist I was telling you about and he got excited because he'd downloaded the movie version and had it with good subtitles for the Russian. He didn't know that it was out in book form, so I gave him that copy. They have a beautiful zen-ish, definitely ratna garden that the deer love -- especially chrysanthemum flowers. Their house is full of paintings by Becky and drawings by Mark's mother, who is an excellent artist also.

They have a humongous TV and I got hypnotized into watching Minority Report, which wasn't too bad actually.

Salt Spring Island

The next day, we went to Salt Spring Island, because of course how could I resist seeing a hippy dippy haven. It was pretty cool. We went to the Saturday Market where folks sell crafts and produce. Got some fresh pressed apple juice and some cheeses to share.

That evening Mark drove us down to the Victoria Shambhala Centre to get Becky, who was still teaching when we arrived. We went to a great Japanese restauarant with some of the participants. I ended up selling three of my cards to a young teacher named Chris, which was just enough to pay for dinner!

Sunday, Sydney to Anacortes and off to Natalie Pascale Boisseau's

The next day, I took my third ferry trip (2.5 hours) across the border, definitely the best way to cross a border, even if you end up cuing up in your car a lot. There so happened to be some kind of humongous motorcycle rally going on in Anacortes -- literally hundreds of motorcycles in packs of 10 to 15 roaming the roads, which made driving on I-5 a bit of a challenge. Made it to Natalie and Laura's with no problems, had a lovely walk up a huge hill with Natalie and her two beagles, Bella and Chi (?) to catch a gander at two murders of crows pecking away on top of a reservoir.

Natalie's house has lots of trees, greenery and so on, my favorite environment and a large backyard with patches of vegetables growing. Evidently last winter four (I think) trees blew down and a chainsaw wood sculptor came by and asked if he could carve a few bears in exchange for one of the bears. Laura liked them so much that she bought the other one. Laura, who is a fish biologist, was all excited because she had been sailing in their boat that afternoon and spotted a "bait ball." She had spotted hundreds of birds screaming and flocking around a patch of water and went to investigate, paddling through a room-sized swarm of small silver fish (probably like sardines) and saw the birds in a feeding frenzy picking out the fish and "flying" through the water back up to the sky while small silver fish scales slowly sank all around. When she paddled back through, the "bait ball" was much smaller and she spotted the ring of harbour seals who had rounded up the fish -- the bait -- for the birds so they could snag some fresh fowl for lunch.

Well today, I'm headed to my Cousin Elva's house in Roseburg in Oregon, but I may stop overnight on the way so I can avoid driving at night. She's at a meeting of the Wildlife Safari, where she and her husband Dale volunteer. She's been very patient with how long it's taking me to get there. They "watched" a giraffe on the weekend (I think that means something like giraffe sat) and have put off their annual trip to Yellowstone Park to watch the elk in mating season. Elva is an ornathologist, like her mother Frances Hamerstrom, and takes wonderful photos of wildlife as well as draws. I'm really looking forward to meeting her.

When my mother died, a year ago Winter Solstice, I inherited a whack of photos of Clarence Darrow who married my great aunt Ruby. I ended up contacting two Darrow exerts, Joe Lutrell, a law antiquarian, and Randall Tietjen, a lawyer and author, who is putting together a book of Darrow's letters. He told Elva about me and she wrote an email and gave me a call. It's wonderful to meet a blood relative. I don't have very many -- mainly my brother Frank.

Well, that's enough for now.

9/20/07 evening: Kamloops!!

Well just to let everyone know that I've made it to Kamloops!!! I've been in touch with Mark Hazell and will be there tomorrow night (barring unforseen auspiciousness).

The top right photo is of a mountain in Banff Naitonal Park near where Lake Louise would be. Decided not to go there though so as not to push my luck, so to speak. Was glad I could take off after taking the photo though.
The bottom photo was taken in Glacier National Park. This view was right in your face, straight up across the highway. It was quite foggy, cloudy, and lightly rainy, so I didn't see what must have been mighty peaks up above -- just vague, sneaky glimpses.

Good news though. I did finally hear from David Mann. He and Susan had evidently just bought a car and gone on a walkabout -- or driveabout as the case may be. So, he didn't read my email nor receive my phone messages until I was stuck in Banff. Susan is working as a mobile crisis worker (or as David says as a Desung getting paid the big bucks). He's doing business development work for Meals on Wheels. Susan's looking into a Master's Program for Community Health with a Global view, if I understood that properly.

9/20/07 morning: Wild Flour and the Three Tows

September 20, 2007

Note: You can double click on the photos to see a slightly larger version, but please don't download them as I may use them later).

Sorry guys for taking so long to make this post, but I've been somewhat trapped in Banff. I'm sitting in the Wild Flour Cafe eating granola, compote, and yogurt, drinking Free Trade "Three Sisters" mild coffee and cream, looking at what appears to be a rather threatening sky. Aas many of you know, my Shambhala Clan name is Fearless Wildflower -- also how I sign these posts, AND it has free wireless.

Last Sunday, as you recall, my car stopped working at the entrance to Banff (now I know how to spell it) National Park. Turned out the water pump had stopped working and caused the serpentine belt to break, rather dramatically I understand into various pieces. Along with a tensioner pulley, I got that fixed for a mere $569.46. Then under strong advisement from John the ace mechanic at Knibbe Automotive, I had the oil replaced (homage to Stan) at the Minute Muffler -- about $41.

Well, I drove back to the Park, past Banff and -- of course, stopped and took a pic of what I think is Castle Mountain (see photo), started the car and it stalled, started again, and it stalled every time I put my foot on the gas or changed gear from Park. Called CAA, got Martin the Albanian again, but this time decided not to go all the way back to Calgary (probably not a great decision). I didn't want to further impose on the Johns' (after being there three nights), so went to the Petro Station in Banff instead. They didn't get to it until the afternoon, which meant a night in Banff. Picked the Homestead Inn, because it was close to the Petro station and didn't cost as much as everywhere else ($111/night. gad. No wireless.)

Next day, they were still working on it, and because I kept coming back to get things out of the trunk, ended up locking my keys in it. After the guys (Stuart -- long blond hair in a pony tail, who knows Buicks, Don Donnelly (who looks like a George Clooney clone, who probably has been told that numerous times, so is shy to look a person -- particularly female -- in the eyes, but otherwise has a quiet humour, who can get hassled if you push; and Paul, the owner -- I think he's possibly Pakistani, though I'm not sure, who takes rather good pics of Park animals to calm his mind, which could use the help as he's a bit of a hoverer) tried to open the trunk for at least an hour and a half, called me up to come down to decide what to do -- call CAA for the fourth time. Fellow named Joe came out and made me new keys (should have brought my spares, which were sitting in my desk drawner in Halifax). So, car wasn't done, stayed the next night in the last extra room Homestead had saved to accomodate a bus tour.

Next day, done by about 2 pm. It took them a very long time doing diagnostics. I had big worries about the bill. For the car techies in the crowd and I know you're there: "starts then dies when put into gear. Remove and test ignition coil pack. Tests ok. 2 cylinders not firing. Replace ignition module. Cylinders now firing but engine still misses/stalls. Trace to old piece of belt stuck between the crankshaft sensor vanes. Remove pulley to remove belt piece -- plus more). Cost: $688.70. They gave me a free tow card, good in the U.S. and Canada.

Took off. Didn't make it as far as Castle Rock this time. Stopped to take a pic or two (see photos) and turned the engine on, and it did it again, but not quite as bad. I almost wanted to try and make it go, but knew that I'd regret it practically immediately. Called CAA for the fifth (and last free time) and got towed back to Banff (by a Japanese fellow this time). Booked a room. I had investigated staying at the hostel (only $35, but I'd have to share a room with 6 other people. Did have wireless and and a pool table and activities, like hikes that you could go on. Also tried the Banff Lodge across the street from the Homestead, but it cost $169 plus tax, but did include wireless, which is when I decided to use the Wild Flour).

So, basically the problem was that a piece of the belt that blew up, got inbetween something and the sensor coil, which didn't manifest until probably, I stoped to take the pic and it fell down into the place where it interfered with the transmission of the signal that the cylinders were firing. (I promise not to be this techie in future posts.) They fixed it fairly quickly as they had ordered the part, which was an Ignition coil (aka, the sensor). $184.21.

Now, it is time to leave. I'm definitely going though the sky is louring and it may snow, hopefully not too badly. Let you know later how it goes. I did (I have to admit) get somewhat bummed, but that's part of the journey too.

9/16/07: Trippus Interruptus

September 15

Had a wonderful day with the Johns'. Went to "Kensington" district with Frank to meet up with Amber Rutledge, who I'd met (mostly on-line) when I'd done a project for Chris Tamdjidi and Shambhala Europe. They were going to check out a place as a potential meeting place for a nascent Calgary Shambhala group. It was not so good. Besides costing $100/hour, it was a Tai Quan Do place by day and smelled heavily of sweat sock and old jock straps. Yick. Not very conducive to meditation. But, Frank was very diplomatic and asked good questions to maintain positive relations with a potential connection to the renting world.

I took my obligatory pic out in front of their house. Lorraine cooked a very tasty mixed sausage spaghetti dinner with green salad. We just hung out and chatted. We made plans to visit Bannf National Park and check out Chateau Lake Louise where Frank and I did seminary back in 1980. Then I was to drive on and the three Johns' were going to hike up to a teahouse.

Never did get to see David Mann and Susan, though we did find his phone number and left a message. Ah well.

September 16

Then the no-doubt inevitable happened. My car broke down. The light for the battery came on and the steering got impossible -- very stiff. The good news was I was following the Johns' for a little pilgrimmage to Chateau Lake Louise and had just gotten in line at the Bannf National Park gate. Didn't have to pay. I could still drive the car forward and backward, but turning was a pit. So I immediately began calling CAA. My second use. Had to wait on hold for quite a while, maybe 20 minutes. We figured out that it must be the alternator, or perhaps the alternator belt. Good thing I have CAA Plus, because it allows for free towing for 160 km.

I had lost Lorraine and Frank, because I'd paused at a turnout to take a pic of a cement factory (at tleast that's what Martin the tow driver thought it was). I mean look at it, how could I resist that? They'd done such a nice job stripping the rock behind it. I figured I'd catch up with Frank et al at the gate to the park. They must have seen me pull out.

Then, of course the car trauma happened. After I'd gotten the car around the back of a park building (not easily I'm telling you), I called Frank. I had gone across the street to a kind of parking area to see if they were there, but no luck. As I was calling I spied a gold car way up on the right shoulder of the road, almost out of sight. There they were. I felt very grateful they hadn't given up on me. Frank walked down and gave me the key to their house. That goodness for cell phones too. The tow truck came. No more old fashioned dragging the car along behind, but he put it right up on a flat bed. Unfortunately (or not as the case may be), he said he wasn't a mechanic and wasn't going to look at see if it was just the belt. I'd gotten a mechanic's name from Frank in Calgary, so that's where we went. The tow truck driver, Martin, told me he was a dual citizen.

His other country was Albania. Nice fellow. He had a neat kind of box like an On-Star tracker that spoke to him in a nice feminine voice telling him where to turn and when to get to the address I gave him. I importuned him to give me a ride to the Johns' as I didn't know where the heck I was or how long a taxi might take. The mechanics was closed of course, being as it's Sunday. So I must ask the Johns' if they'd put up with me for another day (possibly two if it's anything complicated on the car.

I came back and did the dishes to help out.

9/15/07: Winnipeg to Regina

September 15. I'm sitting in the Lorraine and Frank's "rec" room in Calgary writing this. I'll be off tomorrow headed for B.C. Sorry it's taken me so long to get to the keyboard, but my neck has been hurting, that unidentifiable kind of pain that feels like nails on chalkboard. So resting has been in order.

September 11

I did have a wonderful time in Winnipeg with Kate Byman, a new friend. She has a beautiful condo apartment in the artsy part of town (which I've now forgotten the name of). Very beautifully painted and decorated. Deep blue Prussian blue carpets lead up to the third story where her apartment is. She had me clear out my car of anything that looked steal-able or enticing. Kate's a teacher of 4th-5th graders in a very multi-cultural environment. She's the one who taught me that the plural of inuksuk is inuksuit.

Kate cooked a marvelous all-Manitoban dinner of lightly breaded pickerel, kale and beets and a mix of two kinds of potatoes with a wonderful light white wine. We ate at a table in a kind of sun room area overlooking a little park that somehow felt like being in what I imagine a Brownstone in Manhattan would be like, a light westering sunshine coming in through the paned windows on two walls. She's just had heating put into the tile floor, so it's warm to walk on in bare feet. Who could ask for more? She's the only "old" Shambhalian in town (at least that she knows of) and has a few people over once a week to her apartment for meditaiton practice.

I indulged myself in a bubble bath, which I never have, but this and a good neck rub really helped my neck feel much better all the next day as I drove through Manitoba to the middle of Saskatchewan, where I stayed at another Comfort Inn.

September 12-13

I only discovered, on the 12th in the evening while reading my email at the Comfort Inn in Regina, that Pam Johnson (aka Wimberley) had been living there with her partner Boo. I wasn't sure whether or not I would stay another day in Regina or head out for Medicine Hat, AB, and decided to leave it to "tendrel," or auspicious coincidence, and it certainly seemed to happen that way, with Pam and I meeting within a five-second window, where if I hadn't seen her, I would have driven on to Medicine Hat. So I stayed and had dinner with them, talking late into the evening. They're very obviously in love and seem quite happy together. Pam works as a branch librarian, but does have a few problems with subordinates, but I think it will all work out. They've tried to have a meditation evening, but it's been difficult as there are no other Shambhalians there.

I think I'd best stop now, so I won't keep the Johns' waiting on me for dinner.

Lake Superior and Secret Doors

September 12, 2007

I’m writing from Pam Johnson’s place (used to be Wimberley) in Regina, Saskatchewan. I keep getting hypnotized watching telly. They just aired a segment on eye laser surgery. Hmmm.

Anyway, I’m trying to to a bit of catchup, so I can move along more smartly, though I’m getting to a phase where I’ll be staying at people’s houses a bit more (until I visit my brother in Gold Beach, Oregon, when I will be staying about a week).

So, back to September 9th. From Wawa, it was a beautiful drive down Route 17, taking the long way around the Great Lakes. I did see more inuksuit and decided to branch out in my picture taking to get a shot of Lake Superior, though I wasn't always near enough.

I moved on to a small town the other side of Thunder Bay (which had a population of 110,000 -- amazingly enough to me and too big for me to want to stop, plus being off the road), called Ignace (population 1,700). I almost ran out of gas again. Seems I have to fill up when the tank gets to half empty. The distances between "towns" (and that's possibly being generous) is too great. It did start raining a bit, but not as bad as on the way to Wawa, when it poured buckets. 

For a good idea of how the road looked, I spotted a bit of a rainbow behind a big rig, as I cruised off the Canadian "shield" -- a pre-Cambrian, huge patch of rock that covers most of Ontario, Quebec, the northern parts of Manitoba and Saskatchewan.

I ended up staying at the Lone Pine Motel on Lake Agimac (believe it or not there’s more than 56,000 listings in Google for this motel).

It was a wonderful old motel built by the proprietor's father, who also made all the furniture. It had some interesting features (besides, of course, no wireless nor cell access). It was a classic vacation spot, where each room had access to a little bit of beach and a few comfortable
beach chairs.

Each room had an interesting feature of two little back-to-back doors that you could use to unload your luggage from your car, which had to be parked behind your room, so as not to obstruct the lake view.

September 9: Inuksuit Abounding

Sudbury to Wawa

Just outside of Sudbury, I saw the Falconbridge nickel mine (at least I think it was the Falconbridge mine. I took a pic for the sake of my work at Metals Economics Group.

I later learned from Kate, whom I stayed with in Winnipeg that the area around the mine for kilometers in either direction used to look like a moonscape, but as you can see they’ve cleaned up their act some. This man-made monument to capitalism certainly contrasted (and not well) with other human erections I saw later along the road.

I was deep into Northwestern Ontario, Superior Lake country. It was incredibly beautiful and calming – full of those kinds of lakes, trees and scenes that seem prototypically Canadian. Very few towns, but the land still felt populated and protected.

It took me a while, but I began to look beyond just the stratified nature of the roadside rocks to the tops of them, where I kept seeing what looked like intentionally piled rocks. Then I saw a pile that was unmistakably an Inukshuk. Then I kept seeing them on top of almost any flat space like Tibetan offerings to the dralas.

I found this definition from Wikipedia: An inuksuk (plural inuksuit) [1] (from the Inuktitut; alternatively inukshuk in English [2] or inukhuk in Inuinnaqtun [3]) is a stone landmark used as a milestone or directional marker by the Inuit of the Canadian Arctic. Inuksuit differ from some cairns in significance. The Arctic Circle, dominated by permafrost, has few natural landmarks and thus the inuksuk was central to navigation across the barren tundra. he word inuksuk means "something which acts for or performs the function of a person." The word comes from the morphemes inuk ("person") and -suk ("ersatz or substitute"). The Inuit make inuksuit in different forms and for different purposes: to show directions to travelers, to warn of impending danger, to mark a place of respect, or to act as helpers in the hunting of caribou. Similar stone figures were made all over the world in ancient times, but the Arctic is one of the few places where they still stand. An inukshuk can be small or large, a single rock, several rocks balanced on each other, round boulders or flat. Inuit tradition forbids the destruction of inuksuit. (from http://thecanadianencyclopedia.com/index.cfm?PgNm=ArchivedFeatures&Params=A29)

Of course I only now know about all this. I’d see the more classical type of inuksuk, that have two legs a layer of rocks as a body and a smaller rock as a head), but not in the diversity that these roadside ones exhibited themselves. They looked fairly newly erected and were fairly small in size, about 1 to two feet tall or so, always made of rock that could be found around where they were placed and mostly in the highest places, some of which would have taken some climbing to get to.

In Wawa, where I stayed at the Sportsman’s Motel (thought I’d join the hunter side after my cow experience). Here’s a pic of “big bird” Wawa style. It is, of course, a Canadian goose.

(Small digression: I heard a report on CBC as I was driving through Manitoba that a particular school was right in a staging area for the migration of Canadian Geese and having a big problem with "goose poop" in the school yard. One goose drops off 1 to 2 pounds of poop in a month (I think it is) and there are about 3,000 of them gathering in one spot. They had to get special permission from the schoolboard to get special dogs (and then from the city council) that are quite pricey to hire to drive off the geese to another spot, and then they had to have permission from the feds because Canadian geese are a federal preserve (don't ask me). Meanwhile, the geese aren't waiting for permission and the playground is getting covered with white slippery stuff, such that it looks like a white carpet were laid down.)

Back to the "plot": I ran out of batteries for my camera right about then, so only got one. There were three or four others in spots through town, which, keep in mind, only has a population of about 5,000 who are definitely not necessarily located in one clump. Had a decent hamburger at the Viking restaurant near the motel. I figured it'd be two days to Winnipeg, where Kate Byman contacted me in respone to my plea for landing spots, with an offer I couldn't refuse.

I'll continue with a separate post for Ignace.

Backtrack: How Now Brown Cow?

September 8

Well, Saturday saw me leaving Sudbury and headed as fast as I could book to Winnepeg, no, Thunder Bay, no, maybe WaWa.

You may remember a while back when I said I had been missing great pics of cows (and horse). I finally captured some in greater rural Ontario. However, as pictures speak louder than moos, I’ll let them tell most of this story.

I found a likely herd by the side of the road and stopped the car. Got out and loaded up my camera. I wanted a brown cow, so focused on those two you see in pic one. But, the white one (whom I call the "Watch Cow") kept staring at me. Every now and then he’d bend his head over his shoulder to cow-right and then look at me again, so I decided to get his pic (could be a she for all I know). Then, I heard a moo in the distance. Whitey turned his head to look at the rest of the herd and then another more imperious moo sounded.

It happened very quickly after that. There were answering moos from here and there and of a sudden, whitey turned and ran, then the two brown ones wised up and turned, then they all did, leaping over each other to get away from the fence. I was so surprised that I didn’t snap those pics until they they ambled off the field. Reminded me of Farside.

Was it my breath? My zoom? I have been eating steak every night. Maybe it was just lunchtime in the pasture, but it sure felt more personal than that.

Maybe I should just stick to wooden cows.

Backtrack: White Mountains and Blue Skies

September 5 and 6

This is a backtrack to September 5, after my visit to Annie. As you may remember I was heading for Vermont and Suzann Duquette.

White Mountains

The day before I left Annie’s I’d had my 80 km check (about 1000 km later) of the Buick’s “torque.” I’d had the front struts and a tie rod replaced, which seemed to require a torque check on whether or not the lug nuts on the wheels would fall off. (When else could I write a sentence like that and know what I mean?) All was fine, so I felt secure enough to tackle the back roads of Maine, following Foley’s instructions, and then head through the White Mountains of New Hampshire to Vermont.

Still in the mode of taking my time, I saw some amazing rocks by the side of the road and my rock photo project began. I’m just putting one in now, because this post is going to be more illustrative than most.

Then feeling adventurous I stopped at Wildcat Mountain Ski and Sports park. Those who know me, know I’m not what you might call a sport nut. I got some interesting water pics (not the kind for your teeth) and decided to ride the gondola.

The ticket and “lodge” area smelled incredibly pungent, like an old sweat sock, combined with new plastic. (Oh, my god, I just saw a water plane take off from a lake I’m staying at in Ontario!). I decided I didn’t want to ride this other thing, which looked like people were strapped into some kind of harness and shot down a wire from the top of a mountain to the lodge. Too adventurous for me. I can sometimes be affected by vertigo, so thought I’d wait that one out. Didn’t react too badly on the way up. When you’re feeling fearful, it’s a great time to practice taming your mind. So when that arose I focused on the handle bar and slowed my breathing down. The door was opened at the top by a guy who’s evidently working his way up to getting a gondola job in Colorado where the “real” mountains are. Took a pic of Mt. Washington (not shown here. Looks like a forest-covered mtn, but it’s a famous one in New Hampshire.

I stayed there for a fair amount of time, then headed to VT following Suzann’s direction (still think of her as Dapön B though).

Blue Skies Guest House

I found it without getting lost (thanks to handwritten directions). It’s a white farmhouse set in a little valley nicely landscaped in that it’s not too tame and not too wild. When you walk in the back door, which goes to the kitchen, I saw a framed poem written by the Sakyong on the occasion of Suzann and Jan’s marriage. In wandering through to the living room I was struck by the amazing number of thankas of just about everyone we’re familiar with, Shiwa Ökar, Rigden kings, White Tara – must have been at least 10. Don’t recall seeing any wrathful types, though maybe they weren’t for viewing in the guest part of the house. “Asian” rugs and comfortable furniture, a nice sun room where I had a T and T (Tanqueray and Tonic for the non-Brit fanciers). There was a beautiful samurai helmet on a table by the stairs heading up to the guest rooms that was given to Suzann as a thank you for her service as a director of Karmê Chöling.

Wasn’t able to access wireless though, so that’s why you didn’t hear from me about this stop sooner. They did have cable modem, but I’d have to have unplugged Suzann’s computer in her office and I didn’t want to impose.

They invited me to dinner (which is not a part of the ordinary service), a mostly vegetarian (except for the chicken. Hmmm) dinner cooked by Jan, who works up at Karmê Chöling as the gardener. Born in the Netherlands, he has a lovely Dutch accent.

After dinner, we watched “Freedom Writers,” and had fun guessing the next plot turn. Suzann was right every time.

Slept really well on some kind of an air mattress (not the usual kind, but one that with loud noises you can adjust to your preferred firmness. The pillows were the best I’ve ever slept on. Didn’t have to plump them up or beat them down.

In the morning had a filling breakfast of pretty good oatmeal (with dried cranberries it looked like) and a soft boiled egg. After breakfast, while packing up, I talked a while with Jan. It gently rained on one side of the house (on my car) and a rainbow appeared on the other. Jan said he’d been hoping for rain, but not on that side. He’s been having to water the Karmê Chöling gardens by hand every day. We talked about the tent caterpillars that I’d been seeing in Maine of which there were several examples out the dining room window. He said they didn’t actually kill the trees, but came out in August when the trees were at their strongest, sucked the energy out for a few months and then died off. He said they were in the sixth year of a six-year cycle that hopefully will see them died back next year. He also said that if I’d examined one of the nests closely, I would have seen zillions of crawly larvae milling together. Glad I didn’t get too close.

So, I highly recommend Blue Skies Guest House. It only cost $54.50 (an odd amount, but that’s the 9% VT tax) for the night. They are relying on the word-of-mouth trade, primarily sangha. The address is 136 Church Street, Barnet, Vermont 05821. (802) 633-2320.

Samadhi and KC

I stopped by Samadhi Cushions on my way out of town (only about three doors down from Blue Skies. When I first drove in to a parking lot the sign said “Closed.” By the time I got out of my car and went to the door, it said “Open.” That was Ric Walter’s eagle kasung eye. He looked kind of shocked when I walked in. He’d evidently just read my first two posts the night before and I guess didn’t quite expect to see the live version walking in. Quite cool for me though, knowing someone’s actually reading these. A fan. Gad. No, he wasn’t sleeping well, so decided to read his email.

Bought a calendar and a red silk Chinese kind of blouse and was able to show Sumner (the proprietor with a very flat affect – otherwise known as “inscrutable” in our community) my cards, including my latest of the year of the earth rat, coming up. Suzann liked them anyway.

Left there and decided I had to drop by Karmê Chöling, since it was only five minutes away. His Eminence had just been there teaching on Powa for three (or four?) days, which meant he did four (or five?) sessions per day, beginning at 6:30 am. The whole Ripa family came, so it must have been quite the zoo. Khandro Rinpoche was to arrive that day and begin another seminar, so everyone was quite busy.

Ruth Snow (see photo) was detailed to give me a tour. Her mom was a coordinator of the Khandro Rinpoche program. Ruth was quite good, rather inscrutable I thought, though with good affect. I didn’t stay for lunch, thought I’d best get on (as you will know that was the day I made it all the way to the other side of Ottawa).

Below is as close as I got to the Cirque de Soleil. It's called the Cirque du Cheval (I think that means horse circus). It wasn't open. Dang.

That’s about it for those two days. I’ll catch up to present time next.

In Wawa, Home of the Big Bird

Can't take long here. Got a big left-side neck and should muscle ache and had to sleep a lot, which is cool, but leaves less time to write. I'm trying to get to Winnepeg, but may not make it that far today, but close I'm thinking.

Sudbury, Ontario, 9/8/97

September 8, 2007

Decided perhaps I'd best catch up straight away to let you know where I am, which is the sort-of-glorious town of Sudbury, Ontario, home of base-metal mining. I'm going to begin using the date when I'm actually writing at the top of the post and then back track as I can.

Basically, I've decided that Canada is rather bigger than I had imagined, to nobody's surprise I expect, except mine. Especially Ontario. After I left Suzann in Barnet (which I'll report on in another post), I decided I'd better bip, or it would be weeks before I got to the West Coast. I do have a bit of a deadline if it doesn't alter, which is my "new" cousin Elva may be wanting to get to Yellowstone, leaving on the 20th or so. She lives in Roseberg, Oregon. Otherwise, I prefer to go at my own pace. I've made a resolution (if not a vow) that I'm only going to go as fast as I can go, perhaps even dawdle from time to time.

So, after Vermont, I boogied along to the next border, which came up surprisingly quickly into Quebec at the unknown town (to me) of Stanstead. It was a surprisingly easy translation. The border guard was a rather cute Quebequer with spikey black hair and a flirty smile. He, too, like the border guard at the U.S. border (a short-haired blonde, all business, Marine type) seemed most interested in -- what I might be bringing into the country, especially cigarettes and alcohol (mostly what I bought in Canada and transported through the U.S. to him). Piece of cake.

It was fun, at first at least, to see all the signs in French -- that is highway signs, which could be a bit confusing if you have to translate in your mind -- par example: droite and gauche. Initially in my scheme of travel, I was going to stop in Monreal and then in Ottawa, but I decided that I'd better keep going and besides, it was like riding the Shoot the Chute. If I got off the highway, it might take me several hours, if not days, to figure out how to get back on, so that on this Thursday, September 6, I decided to keep going. Stayed at a Comfort Inn, as mentioned in last post.

Yesterday, Friday, September 7, I also decided to keep going. This section is definitely a spot where one realizes Ontario is rather large and the Great Lakes can be seen from space for a reason. I had to stop in Sudbury -- besides being rather tired, it all-of-a-sudden poured down rain like out of a bucket onto my car. Got slightly freaked -- not hard to do if it's late in the driving day and everyone else seems to treat it as if it's just another Sunday drive. So found another Comfort Inn. Kind of spooky, because my room looks almost exactly like the one in Ottawa. I'm not sure I need that much predictability.

(photos: some cool rocks I saw from the side of the road. I did see some cool cows and two great horses against a barn, but passed by too quickly to backtrack. Dang.)

Had lunch at Champlain Eco Center at the Gazebo at the day camp area. Also snapped two campers who I think didn't want their pic taken, but I wanted to give you a sense of how beautiful that park was.


Here, in Sudbury, I'm not quite to Lake Superior. I hope to traverse around it today, but heard it's 12 hours to Thunder Bay -- I must say I never thought I'd be going to Thunder Bay, having the impression it was way up there, and so it is. But there's no other path.

I received a nice invitation to stay in Winnepeg, so I have a place to land, but probably can't make it until tomorrow, Sunday, night (at least I hope so).

Technical Notes:

Gas was $0.95 in Ottawa, but rose up to $1.05/liter by Sudbury. It cost $110 to stay at the comfort Inn in Ottawa and $125 here (because it's a weekend -- what's that?).

Annie

September 4

I spent the day with my friend Annie, Georgiann, Georgia Cooper, the inimitable. We've known each other since we lived in Berkeley, California back in the mid 70s. Her son, Grey, and mine, Zeb, were friends. She used to live with Jessie Miller, whom some of you might know.

Annie's the kind of friend who doesn't mind (too much anyway) if I just take a nap or read my book -- as said The Nightwatch "The extraordinary Bestseller from Russia) by Sergei Lukyanenko. I did get The Daylight Watch and The Twilight Watch from Borders. I felt bad about that actually. I, of course, got lost on the way and went into Bookland (I think it was), an independent bookseller where I generally prefer to buy my books, and asked directions to Borders. Aggg.

Anyway, Annie felt bad too, but we didn't call Bookland to see if they had the sequels. But that's Annie too. I was slightly freaked to see Annie using a walker, though she warned me about it -- like I was surprised to see my friend Oscar Garcia using one at the Kalapa Festival. I'm sure you know how it feels to flash back on youth when all was mindless and fraught and then see the consequences of youth -- sickness, old age, and . . . yes, that's coming too. However, Annie looks great other than the walker, though she uses it with panache.

So Annie doesn't mind (not too much anyway), if I blow into town on my way to or from Nova Scotia for a night, i.e., 12 sleeping hours with one or two on either side, or for two nights, though she might prefer more. I'm used to her contemplative way of going about things -- otherwise known as slower than Molasses in January, which gets in the bucket just in time anyway.

(The river is called the Androscoggin -- which means "snake-y in the local first nation's tongue. That little dot in the middle of the river is evidently a lobster buouy.)

As said, she still smokes. I emphathize. I'd kind of like to, but it makes my lungs feels like an elephant has sat on them after a time. It makes my back hurt when I stop. Plus of course, one of the more compelling reasons, they're expensive. But, nonetheless I shared what I could, which at this point is one, maybe two, if I've had some alcohol, before I get nauseous -- another compelling reason to limit it. I decided to listen to that stomach.

(The photo of the grasses on the right was a picture taken out Annie's kitchen window just as the sun was going down.)

So, we can sit outside in the chairs. I didn't mind taking them out and helping open doors and such (I'll only be there a little while), though Annie's walker has this cool basket that can hold quite a few things, a drink, ashtray, cigarettes, a book. She was trying to get me interested in reading Iris Murdoch (see I remembered the name Annie). I tried reading a bit when Annie was out on a smoke break at the Tavern we went to. It was a particularly vivid description of the human body as a kind of organic eating and fornicating machine of various holes for input and output. She thought it was amazingly funny. I can visualize too easily and perhaps I used to see things that way too easily, which had the effect of making me an object with no affect and too distant from being in my body, such as it is. It seemed to reflect too much self loathing. When she came back from the break, she read a description of the lead character's kitchen that was supposed to be a reflection of Iris Murdoch's, which was kind of disgusting actually. Sorry. Though I really quite liked Annie's delivery. She had an interesting kind of pursed-lip PBS-mannered, futsy kind of voice style punctuated by sips of Irish coffe, that suited the writing style. The closest I get to a worldly wise cynicism in my authors is Tom Wolfe. And, I know (or maybe I don't) that she probably wouldn't be interested in a lengthy description of the sci fi, lit j books I do read. I hardly ever read "character dramas," though I do get interested in seeing where the characters go, like the boss of the "Others" Nigh Watch, named Gesar. I'm trying to see how like the Gesar we just heard about at the Kalapa Festival he might be. And, Annie doesn't mind (at least not too much) that we don't share author loves.

I think Annie's spirit is coming to peek out of her gestalt more. She's got quite a pixie quality about her and I think looks quite beautiful (just being objective here). She probably won't mind if I say that either. You can see Annie's a friend well worth having.

I'm trying to see what I wrote from last time, so as not to repeat myself, but the blog won't open up. The signal is kind of weak here at the Comfort Inn outside Ottawa, but strong enough that I can get this composition in.

What was I going to say? Oh yeah, Annie gave me the Suzann Duquette's (or the Duke -- or maybe it's Duq -- as Annie calls her) number at her B&B. She was in, and I was in for the next night. Annie's roommate Foley (I know I said something about this), was very kind and explained how I could get to Barnet without getting lost -- going down the 295 to Yarmouth (yeah, there's one in Maine, just across the water almost from the one in Nova Scotia) and out 115 to 306 to 16, to 2 in Vermont. I think that's right. Thank you Foley.

So, went to sleep early and managed to leave Maine about my usual 10:30.

Techie Journey Details for those who might care

For those of you who might be interested. The price of gas in NS was $1.08/litre, in NB, $1.05; in Maine, mostly $2.75/gallon, a little lower in NH, but back up to $2.75 by the time I got to it. Lower in Ottawa, to $0.95/litre -- maybe so Harper will think prices are reasonable every else. I hit the 1,000-mile-mark just before I hit Ottawa.

New Hampshire and Vermont next. Gotta catch up a bit.

Caterpillars and Borders

September 3 and 4

It's Thursday, and I'm sitting on the steps of the Barnet Public Library. It doesn't open until noon, but hey, it has wireless whereas everywhere else I've been doesn't seem to, and I need to be on the road to Ottawa before then, so I'll make this a bit short.

To back up, where were we? Ah, Saint John. Well, I finally left there about 10:30 (comme d'habitude) and made it up to St. Stephens, NB. I bought a carton of Benson and Hedges ultralight regulars for my friend Annie in Maine because they didn't have any Virginia Slims ultra light menthols. Cost $45.50 (C$), so under the $50 limit she mentioned as the price in the US. Big mistake. She only smokes the Virginia slims, not the Cravens I got, nor the B&H. I've theoretically given up smoking -- can't smoke more than one a day before I get nauseous. Hmm. Deal with it later.

Also, got a bottle of Tanqueray for $19.50, good deal for Canada. Crossed the border, which was actually fairly easy. He wanted to know how long I'd be gone. I said "this trip into the U.S. only four days or so, then back into Canada for the long haul across the continent." He only asked about cigarettes and alcohol, which I said I'd gotten for my friend in Brunswick. He wanted to see the receipt. Good thing I'd just gotten them, so I could show him. Then he peeked in my back window and said "You're sleeping in your car?" I said, "only for snooze breaks -- in case I get tired on the road." So we were cool. I did have my U.S. passport, so the only other thing he asked about what my framed photograph in the back seat. Don't know why. Saw this sign at the border. Your guess is as good as mine. I think it probably refers to reefers on trucks?

(Did I mention that the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia accepted four of five of my photographs for their Sales and Rental Gallery? Hooray! I'm now an official Nova Scotia artist. They can work for me while I'm gone. They accepted, The Dao of Driftwood, Eel Grass at Home, The Path, and Pan's Pool. Later I'll put them on my web site as being on exhibit so you can see them.)

Then into Calais, Maine where I promptly unknowingly got totally lost trying to follow my CAA Triptik, which advised I travel on Route 1. I usually go on Route 9 to Bangor, but followed the sign for Route 1 instead and went North. Gad. Didn't realize I was lost until I got to a choice between Route 169 and 171 with no reference to Route 1. Took a nice pic of a tent caterpillar web, which I'd been seeing on trees, that were dying around it. Seems to be an infestation of them in the north piney forests.

Got to a spot in the road on 169 where cars were parked for about a quarter mile on each side. It was Labour Day and a Labour Day Fair was in progress. Stopped a likely couple walking up the road and asked if they knew how I could get to Bangor. I knew I was lost when they didn't seem to have heard of Bangor or it's relevance to that part of Maine. "There a crossroads down the way, you can go to Lincoln," they said helpfully. Gad. Got there and decided to check the map. I'd tried to find 169 on the CAA map, but it was nowhere in sight. Turned right onto Route 6 which led to I95, turned South and was 40 miles from Bangor. Took me a bit to get down the road to the exit for Brunswick. Took the ramp and promptly ran out of gas and gently coasted to a stop right in the middle of the exit. Good thing I got CAA. First time in my 40 plus year driving career that I've run out of gas. Now I know that when that little yellow light comes on, I'd best immediately look for a station. Even better would be to stop at half way down the gauge.

They made me a priority since I was in the middle of the exit (though cars could pass me) -- don't forget this was Labour Day heading into the evening. A policeman stopped to inquire, found out CAA was coming with gas and left saying he'd check back, but since it wasn't dark yet, he wouldn't stay. Got all gassed up and got lost again wandering around in Brunswick to get to my friend Annie's. Did finally and we shared some T and T's (Tanqueray and Tonics) with fresh lime I'd found on the way.

That brings me up to posting time for my last post. Stayed at Annie's (or Georgia's as she's now calling herself. When I first met her it was Georgiann). She just had hip surgery and needs to get the other one done so is using a walker or two canes and I must say she's quite spry about it. Much better than my mom, who had so much pride that she'd rather my brother waited on her than use it, but did change her mind when he went walkabout (another story for another time).

We had a nice restful day the next day. I found books two and three in the Russian Vampire series I'm reading. We ate out at a Tavern where they had a good Ruben for Annie and a steak for me. And a good Irish Coffee for each. We went there partly because it was the only place in town that allowed smoking in a covered outdoor area filled with biker types, who all seemed to know Annie.

Annie's roommate, Foley, mapped out the route for me to get to Barnet, where I'd set up to stay with my friend Suzann Duquette and her (relatively) new husbaqnd Jan. I'll write about that tomorrow (or whenever I can again find wireless).