So, let’s give this picture thing a go, at long last. I’ve managed to take close to 200 photos in no time, but I’ll try to be selective here.
This first picture is the view from my apartment window – I feel no holier because of it.
Here’s an idyllic sea scene
And here’s another:
Sometimes it feels like southeast asia here since the foliage grows with fervour.
Me and Russell, my fellow CBC Prince Rupertite.
It’s sunny now, but I have to admit that yesterday I felt strong feelings of envy.
While the vast majority of BC has been baking in the sun, I’ve had to wander around town with a giant umbrella sticking awkwardly out of my backpack.
That’s because you just never know when a fine, but thorough misting is about to overcome one on their 20 minute walk.
I also admit to having to wear a jacket to work and closing the office door to keep warm in my hoodie.
Two weeks ago we had a taste of heat. 25 degrees, maybe warmer, and loads of lobster-skinned whiteys.
People tell me that was summer.
My reaction: “You’ve got to be kidding! Two weeks of sun?”
“Yup,” they reply.
I can only cling to the hope they are trying to fool this naive city girl.
But what if they aren’t?
As I said at the top though, it’s beautiful out right now. A few threatening clouds, that’s all.
And I’m thinking about hopping onto a kind friend’s old bicycle and riding to the ocean.
How’s that for enviable.
I just flubbed my way through this afternoon's weather reports.
That's because there was a small crowd of elderly tourists snapping photos through the window during my 30 seconds of fame.
They must be Canadian travellers. Who else would want photos of a girl at CBC Prince Rupert?
Below is my favourite story of the week:
Bear visit mirrors nursery tale
Intrusions are common as bears come out of hibernation |
Life mirrored art – or at least a nursery tale – when a West Vancouver woman came home to find a bear munching oatmeal in her kitchen. The bear was said to have entered the house through an open sliding door, the Vancouver Province newspaper reported.
"It sounds like a nursery rhyme," Sgt Paul Skelton told the paper.
But unlike Goldilocks – caught stealing food in the Three Bears' house in the popular children's story – this bear did not flee when found.
"It appeared to be a one to two-year-old bear – a juvenile – within the kitchen enjoying some oatmeal it had obtained by breaking a ceramic food container," Sgt Skelton said.
"When she saw it, she did the right thing. She vacated the area and called us."
Not aggressive
But the bear paid scant attention as police arrived on the scene, and continued tucking in with little sign of fear or remorse.
"The bear didn't appear to be aggressive and wasn't destroying the house, so they just let it do what it was doing.
"Eventually the bear decided to make its way out of the residence and down toward a forested gully," Sgt Skelton said.
Intrusions are common in the area as bears come out of hibernation, the paper reported, and are happening later than usual this year because of heavy winter snows, according to police.
I had a really, really good sleep last night, which gives me bright and shiny perspective on things that might drive other urbanites batty.
For instance, at long last I've grown impatient with sticking the green patch on the back of the cbc van. You know, the big "N" for new. I'm really not new, I'm just lazy. And, admittedly, skittish around fast-moving mechanical things.
So, I called yesterday to book the road test.
The driving test guy shows up once a month!
I get a huge kick out of this – for now.
I love towns that are so small they have a judge in town once a month to hear cases, and so on.
As well, I like a strange anomaly in Prince Rupert that sets it apart from, i think, any other town in BC.
It's the one place that has never been a part of the Telus monopoly!
No, Prince Rupert has its very own monopoly, City West.
The hows and whys are beyond my comprehension at this point. So for now, I'll just feel oddly cocky that I live in a place that uses an entirely different phone system from the rest of the province.
Not that City West is any better than Telus. It's probably a lot worse, given that they have there very own, much tighter monopoly.
Lastly, I very much appreciated the thrill that ran through me this morning on my walk when suddenly 20 eagles were overhead. I don't know why they were suddenly so keenly interested in a church roof on Highway 16, but they were. A massive, flapping horde of them. It made me duck my head and feel overwhelmed. Especially when I heard a strange crackle and a suddenly careening eagle. I think he may have flown to low, catching something on the electrical wire. He pulled out ok. But I had a momentarily horrendous image of one giant, majestic bird crashing to the ground – or worse on me.
We find Ingrid sitting at her kitchen table at Rainbow Lake. It's a community composed of about a dozen people 15 minutes outside of Prince Rupert.
The neighbourhood is nothing to look at. Three houses and a couple of trailers. Just another overlooked spot off the highway.
Ingrid has been living here with her husband, Joe, since the early sixties. They're in their eighties now and have the fascinating backdrop of European wars and oppression to colour their perspective.
Ingrid was born in Czechoslovakia. Her German background meant at the end of the World War II, she was chased out of her country alongside of thousands and thousands of others. Joe was born in Austria, a farmer in the mountains. I'm not sure of his genealogical background, but he was imprisoned in a labour camp during the second world war.
He and Ingrid both escaped to Canada, individually, in the early fifties.
They met in Ontario and were both of the mind that they wanted to live off the land, as far away from European influence as they could.
Hence Rainbow Lake, BC: population 12.
But apparently this was not remote enough.
Over the first few years, Joe dragged the materials needed for two, Austrian-style cabins on top of a mountain. And I do mean "dragged". I climbed the mountain to visit Joe and I can barely walk today. It was so steep.
He says it really wasn't bad, except for the 150 pound stove.
Once again, if I were ever to get my laptop from lousy Dell computers, I'd upload my photos of the unbelievable view from atop the mountain as well as Joe and his cabins. But. . .
As if these two weren't amazing enough as it is, but being coast mountain coots, they also have their eccentric side – which is often what I love most about an individual.
Ingrid, for instance, is not just an ayurvedic practitioner (serving me coriander tea for a coffee belly). She also practices Reiki and Bach flower remedies. Whie we talked over tea and cookies, she showed me a book about the capacity of snowflakes to reflect the vibrations of music and thought. I'm skeptical, but the snowflake formed from Bach's cello suites compared to "heavy metal" was quite something. And there was a snowflake formed with thoughts of the Buddha, and it looks like there's a little Buddha in a lotus flower!
If nothing else her kindness and good will got us up the craggy mountain. Rendered less easy because of a terrific downpour.
Up top, Joe was mighty suprised to see us. What with the weather and all. But it was a good break for him from cleaning. You see, word of the cabins have gotten out and they have become the occasional wild party spot.
Not entirely unexpected, but Joe has been less able to keep an eye on the cabin over the last couple of months. That's because the old coot just had a hip replacement!
Now he's back scrambling up this big, old, wet and rooty mountain in his gumboots!
It doesn't hardly matter a jot to him. He knows that destructive people have a much more difficult life than he's ever had. He also knows that where there is good in the world there also has to be evil. That's the cycle, he says.
Wise words.
And with that, he turned to his small shrine dedicated to Mother Theresa, looking fondly upon her.
This weekend Joe and Ingrid are having a party. It's the fiftieth anniversary of their cabins. But the party is a way to say goodbye to. They've put the cabins up for sale. Joe and Ingrid are optimistic about their lives, but with hip replacements and cancer, they know its time to live at the foot of the mountain instead of on top of it.
Hey!
I've been an official resident of Prince Rupert for two weeks. This gives me great pride, simply because I've done it.
Sure there have been a few tears before bed.
There have also been the moments where I've decided, impulsively, to leave. To proudly tuck my tail between my legs and hop a plane back to Vancouver.
I rarely follow through on impulsive behaviour. My mother instilled too much "sense" in me.
So I remain, your faithful reporter, trying like heck to get one brain around a vast array of towns.
Today I really spread myself thin: stories from Prince Rupert, Terrace and Valemount. A little bit of AIDS, a whole lot of pulp mill.
When I used to work with Kirstie Hudson (CBC Victoria) I didn't fully understand her nickname: "Resource Girl". I get it now.
My brain is full up with gas pipelines, mining, logging and the latest numbers from the sockeye run.
Now I've got to figure out how to have fun with it all.
Time will provide that. If I don't flee, that is.
The wonderful thing about a bar of bitter-sweet chocolate is that you can eat the whole thing and it will still taste more sweet than bitter in that last indulgent bite.
My appetite for the bittersweet life, however, is less ravenous.
The last month has been a strange melange of uncertainty.
A sudden life decision weighed down by the very real possibility that my handsome fellow and I would, once again, have to live apart.
The gavel has been brought down. He and I are taking the responsible, more bitter route over the sweet, spontaneous trail of wanton passion.
Craig has been accepted into BCIT's GIS program! That's Geographic Information Systems. It's the perfect step into the career he's aiming for. A nine-month program in Vancouver that will inevitably lead to a good, transportable job.
He'll kill me if you flood him with congratulations, but he deserves it.
I'm trying to grapple with the idea of living here in Rupert on my own. The thought hasn't overwhelmed me quite yet. But then it's only been 24 hours.
I have heard from several people there is a bright side to such news. It means the chance to really go head to head with all this "newness".
Which is good because in my first 7 days of work, I begin to recognize how massive Northern BC is. The sheer number of stories is unrelenting. And, since I have tendencies towards perfection, I am undergoing a grueling crash course in everything Northern BC. Geography, politics, environment, art, science. You name it, I'm trying like mad to know a little something about everything.
It's exhausting.
Craig and I haven't worked out the details just yet, but I'm hoping we'll find a way to see each other about once a month. I'm happy to be irresponsible with cash and environmental devastation (read: airplanes) to see my best friend as often as possible.
And if ever you notice me demonstrating signs of "nostomania" – the overwhelming desire to return home or to go back to familiar places, give me a phone call.
I've got a phone number now! Send me an email and I'll flip it to you.
Where to start:
It’s early Sunday morning and I have a hangover and a sunburn. Oh yeah, and I’m at the CBC station because my shiny new laptop is still somewhere not here.
Now you’re supposed to ask me, why are you all of these things?
Here’s why.
It’s “Seafest Days” here in Rupert. The name alone is enough to make any cynical urbanite edgy. But I’m not so cynical so I imagined the event would be “cutesy” in that small town kind of way.
Turns out, “Seafest Days” is a BIG, BIG deal.
At the Seafest parade there were 3′000 plus people! And they were into the parade in a big way. And there I was thinking the parade had had its day.
At every block on the main drag businesses set up barbecues. You just couldn’t eat enough meat on a stick. And you could eat it first nations style, red-neck style, Vietnamese style. When all is said and done though, meat on a stick is still just meat on a stick. So happily there was a ton of other stuff to distract you from pulling chunks of meat off of a charred and dangerous spear of wood. Like: shopping cart races, street hockey, a halibut toss and a car smash.
By the time I stumbled home, it was 30 degrees out without a cloud in the sky. And I was a lovely shade of rose.
It seemed a good time to head into the shade and explore the quiet outskirts of Prince Rupert. This place is so unbelievable because you can tie up your bootlaces, hop on your bike, or fob a ride off someone and be in pristine wilderness in minutes.
I could do better justice to this miracle if I could post pictures. But you’ll have to hold Dell accountable for that absence. Grrr.
Let me tell you, it’s beautiful. It’s like a really big helping of heaven, with a heaping side of paradise.
I wandered around in Rupert-heaven with my new friend, Kerry Funk. She’s from Burns Lake, BC and used to plant trees with the Prince George crew. So, lucky for me, I knew immediately that she was a solid person who I could entrust my “need a friend” feelings with.
After our glorious wander, we slowly, slowly made our way to the Civic Centre auditorium. Lest we forget, darkness doesn’t set in until 11-11:30 pm. That means a lot of day to fill with numerous activities.
The Civic Centre party was not to be missed, I was told by everyone. And, for it what it was, I’m glad I was there.
Simply put, it was a high school dance circa 1991. But there was an endless supply of beer and sunburned people who wanted to party like it was 1984.
The band: Freedom 35. They’re a cover band. They were ostensibly playing covers from the seventies, but the auditorium is so old and metal that I couldn’t hear a thing. Perhaps that’s a good thing.
I went in with several expecations: a whole lot of sloppy drunks, at least one arrest and one girl fight. My expectations were not just met, they were exceeded. Ten-fold. It was awesome.
We didn’t get home until 3 am. And the sun had started to rise!
Such late hours normally wouldn’t be such a problem. (Although I admit, I’m getting older and sleeping is becoming more and more appealing.) But I had this super-early breakfast date this morning. With no other than the Member of Parliament for the area, Nathan Cullen.
If you are a journalist, you will appreciate the oddity of this breakfast partner. In Vancouver, or even Victoria, it’s increasingly difficult to even have a phone conversation with an MP without going through their media flack. Not so with Mr. Cullen. I ran into him at the parade. Told him in my savvy way: “I would appreciate having a conversation with you at some point in time. Just a brief introduction to your work in the area. . .at your convenience.”
His response: “Sure, what are you doing tomorrow morning? Can I take you out for breakfast? I’ve got to catch a flight to Ottawa at 10:30, so maybe we can meet at 8.”
I remain staggered.
I know I’m supposed to keep remain at some kind of emotional “distance” with politicians. But since this is my blog, and I am more than media’s mistress, I’ll tell you that I like him. He’s the nicest politician I’ve met. And by nice I don’t mean bland. I mean genuine, good-hearted and alligned with my ideals.
Wow.
Another score in favour of Prince Rupert. You should all move up here. It’s great.
pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis, noun
(NOO-muh-noh-UL-truh-MY-kruh-SKOP-ik-SIL-i-koh-VOL-kay-no-koh-NEE-o-sis, nyoo-)
Try to use this 45-letter word in a sentence today!
This is a lung disease caused by inhaling fine particles of silica.
There's no exhaustion like moving to a new community and a new job. So, today I have a list for you instead of an artistic, captivating piece of writing.
Things that've made me smile or chuckle under my breath:
1. I had a delightful laugh at the Digby Island airport (coming into Prince Rupert you fly first to Digby island then board a boat to Kaien Island, which Prince Rupert is on). Unsuprisingly it's a small airport, just a hair larger than the Williams Lake airport.
Strangely it took 45 minutes for the luggage of 45 passengers to be moved 15 feet. Even more strange is that the woman who moved the bags from plane to baggage "carousel", also turned out to be our bus driver to the ferry. This meant that as soon as she unloaded the baggage, she collected it back from us again to put onto the bus. Then we drove onto the ferry, arrived at the Prince Rupert Highliner Hotel whereupon she unloaded all of our bags again.
2. There is a trail leading directly from my apartment all the way through town winding up not 20 feet from the best cafe in town.
3. I have been scared silly several times by the presence of multiple deer dotting the gardens.
4. There are possible more eagles floating about than crows or ravens. They cluster in particularly dramatic clouds about the dump and above the herring fishery.
5. The taxis driving through town remind me of travelling in developing countries with a red neck twist. They're old, beastly Chryslers painted matte black. I feel resistant to getting inside of one.
6. There is a serious dichotomy within a 5-block radius. If you walk in one direction you quickly come upon prettily painted wooden houses converted into art galleries and restaurants. Walk the other way and you encounter a god-awful poo-brown building which houses the Saan and the Zellers. Maybe it's the brown, but it feels dodgy in there. Shopping for a pillow yesterday, I really felt like a stranger. Like someone who got lost in a place where they ought not to be. I left as quickly as possible.
6. As a coastal community necessarily there are "crazies". Here's the note I found for me from the last journalist here:
1) Lothar. Oh, you’ll get to know him. He sniffs out new journalists and spends hours telling them his story. It’s long and you will feel sorry for him at first but then he’ll ramble on about conspiracies and anti-BC liberal propaganda and possibly even chips in brains. I’ve told him it’s impossible for us to tell his story because it’s too complicated and there are legal implications. He seems to have bought this. If you see him coming, I recommend picking up the phone and having a long conversation with someone. He will get the message and leave the office.
2) The Drunk Guy. He’ll come in, and need a ride somewhere. “No sir, I can’t give you a ride. Yes sir, I’ll call your wife for you.” He’s a painter, his hands are always covered in color. He’s harmless, just call his wife and tell her to pick him up at East Wind, then he’s out of our hair.
3) Larry Wong. Not a bona fide crazy, and completely harmless. He will simply drop off letters, ask you to photocopy them and keep a copy. He’s a nice chap. He likes dogs.
7. My job is way more than lowly "associate producer". I wouldn't say this makes me smile, but it does provide a quietly maniacal laugh. On top of producing stories, I'll also be hosting next to full-time throughout the summer. I'm also supposed to attend a community event once a week. I'm also the station manager, handling everything from technical disasters to paying the bills, to cleaning up after my very bachelor Host. Wicked.
8. I'm woken up at night be a pack of howling wolves. Honest to God. When I hear them howling, I feel glad Ciao Ciao, my cat, is only exposed to coyotes and cars in the city rather than snapping, dripping wolf teeth.
 | mason on a short history |
 | Jill on ack! starlings! |
 | Katie on ack! starlings! |
 | Alex on I feel I ought to |
 | allana on the first night |
