Pitt Meadows 2- Golden Ears Provincial Park

I woke up the next morning excited to head back to the Provincial Park. There was 7 kilometer loop to a waterfall that sounded like a great way to start the day and I was on the road shortly and at the trail head by 9am.

The Lower Falls Trail took me further into the coastal forests of British Columbia. Again I was stunned by the size of the massive tree stumps and the scars left by loggers a century ago. The trail follows Gold Creek for several kilometers and was a mostly easy, quiet walk. When I stopped to drink from the creek at a beach half way up I was amazed by how cold and clean it tasted.

 (Not a trace of beaver shit in this water for those who know about my Giardia or 'beaver fever' incident a few years back).

 Usually the water from lakes and streams is warm, and when chemically treated has a slight metallic taste. This water was straight from the mountains and it was amazing. It was a beautiful morning and I took my time along the trail stopping to take pictures and just enjoy the natural surroundings. Making my way along the creek and closer to the waterfalls, I could hear the water rushing and splashing ahead of me and before I ever saw it I could feel the spray in the air from the falls, cool and refreshing.

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The trail continues past the waterfalls and up towards Gold Creek Lookout and back country camping at Alder Flats where you can sleep in the same sites loggers did almost a hundred years ago. I wished I had time and my hiking/camping gear so I could've kept going but with work to do I headed back down the path regretfully. I passed several groups of tourists/hikers heading up the trail on the way back, most of them Japanese which meant we didn't speak more than a few words of greeting before continuing and I was glad i had started early so I had the path, the beach and the waterfall to myself.

An error in booking my travel had meant that I had a completely free day before heading back to Toronto and I was intent on continuing to explore Golden Ears PP as much as I could so I was up early and again on the road by 8am. I stopped for breakfast and then headed into the forest again, this time cutting off the Lower Falls Trail that I had walked yesterday about a kilometer in and trailblazing for another kilometer across to the East Canyon Trail that would lead me to a somewhat secluded beach on Alouette Lake. The cut across the forest off-trail was a bit risky as I had no map other than the picture I had downloaded to my Blackerry® but I ended up taking the perfect route with no major obstacles.No obstacles except for the need to stop every ten seconds to take a picture of another tree, rock, stump or slug.

The East Canyon trail rose in elevation about 200 meters along the 4 kilometer hike and provided some stunning views of mountain peaks with permanent snow fields along the ridges. Blanshard Peak stood out among the mountains in the park and I kept turning to look back at it as I continued my hike towards Alouette Lake, dreaming about hiking through those higher altitude passes, and making the decision to start taking my camping gear on any future trips to British Columbia.

It took about 90 minutes to make my way down through the East Canyon, through Gold Creek campground and up an unmarked trail to the north beach. I had brought a book to read, a book to write in, snacks of fruit bars and trail mix and a couple cans of beer and I planned on finding a secluded spot on the rocky beach and spending the rest of the afternoon in quiet solitude. The day passed slowly as I read and wrote and I felt the pressure of everyday work and home demands slip away.  With no cell or Wi-Fi signal deep in the Coast Mountains I happily turned off my Blackberry®, the only link to the world around me and passed the time with the pages of my books and the thoughts in my head.

Later that night I decided to check out on of the restaurants the guys at the pub had suggested. Charlie's Mexican Cafe in Port Moody was about a thirty minute drive from the hotel in Pitt Meadows and was worth every minute of the drive. Amazing food that I let the waitress suggest for me, accompanied with Dos Equis beer and deep fried ice cream and all with a window view of the beautiful marine town on the Fraser river. it was a great meal to end an amazing day and my only only sobering thought was that I had to return to Toronto early the next morning.

I love Toronto and I love being home but I wasn't anxious to leave. I have really started to enjoy my time in BC and would've loved a couple of more days to explore the trails and the towns in the lower mainland. As I was packing my suitcase that evening I had a strange mixed feeling of sadness and excitement, sadness to say goodbye to the amazing mountain forests, creeks, and beaches of Golden Ears but excited to move on to the next place and an opportunity to spend some time in the small towns of the interior.

The historic gold mining town of Princeton BC is next on the list and with a full week booked in the town I was planning on coming prepared not only with dress clothes and training materials but with tent and backpack as well.

Travelling the Prairies.. Brandon, Manitoba and Humbolt Saskatchewan

The plane touched down in Winnipeg and I was soon in a car driving through the city and then onto the Yellowstone Highway for a 250km drive south to Brandon. With the satelite radio not working and my iPod battery dead I was not looking forward to the 3 hours in the car by myself so when I saw a hitchhiker with his thumb out satnding at the end of the on-ramp I made a split-second decision to stop and pick him up. I had never picked up a hitch hiker before and I'm not sure what prompted me to do so this time. I have an uncle who travels across the country each summer, often relying on rides from strangers and maybe a part of me hoped the karma would flow back to him and help him get a ride when he needed one.

The traveller got in the car, explaining his previous ride had broken down and he was struggling to complete the trip to Brandon. I was happy to offer to take him the rest of the way into town. My new companion was an older fellow who had travelled across the country many times and we compared stories about towns and cities that we had both been to from coast to coast and across the north of Canada and it turned out we had a mutual acquantance in Fort McMurray, Alberta. As the conversation turned to federal politics I began to realize the hitch hiker probably was dealing with some sort of cognitive disabilty. He blamed Stephen Harper for everything from the amalgamation of the Canadian Armed Forces  in the 1960's to the close Quebec referendum vote in 1995. The conversation became more of struggle as we drove and by the time my companion got out of the car I was relieved to be able to concentrate on my own, slightly more rational and reasonable thoughts about our current Prime Minister's shortcomings.

I hadn't expected Brandon, Manitoba to be a hotbed of culture, entertainment or fine dining and it didn't disappoint.The staff at the hotel gave me a list of restaurants but just about everything sounded pretty sketchy. I did find an Applebee's that served a decent piece of salmon and I struck up a conversation with a guy from Edmonton in the lounge as I ate. I shared some of my Edmonton stories from the week before and he seemed surprised that I was able to find some much to do in the city that he lived in, but quite obviously despised. I drove around the town after dinner hoping to find something interesting to take pictures of but ended back at the hotel soon after without even taking my camera out of my bag.

Two days later and I was driving back out of Brandon en route to Winnipeg where I would fly into Saskatoon. I had started the drive early with the plan on stopping in at a local community park that bordered the Assinaboine River. All my life I had heard stories and seen pictures of the flooding of rivers across the west and this area of Manitoba was still recovering from the overflowing water. Along the highway water barriers and sandbags were still stacked by the side of the road and caution signs were everywhere. I walked around the park taking a few pictures and noticing the water marks on trees that denoted how high the water had been.

A short plane ride from Winnipeg to Saskatoon and I was soon on another 250 km drive to the town of Humbolt. The 2.5 hour drive took me on a dead straight road through the prairies through gently rolling fields of wheat and canola crops. I could have turned on the cruise control and had a nap without danger of missing a turn along the way, I probably could've taken that nap lying on the road without danger of being run over as well, there being no other traffic on the highway.

Humbolt turned out to be a one street town of about 5000 people. I had thought Brandon was dull but it was a hotbed of excitement compared to Humbolt. The only recognizable restaurants were a PizzaHut/KFC Express (?) just off the highway, a McDonalds we would be warned not to eat at but weren't given an explanation as to why, and a brand new Tim Hortons across from the hotel that turned out to be staffed by people that were absolutely insane. With most of my team due to arrive the next day, a colleague and I stopped for dinner at 'Chick Allens' and ate with every senior citizen who lived in the town. Later after stopping in a convenience store looking for a beer store I was directed to a 'private liqour store' across the street. I entered the store through an unmarked door at the back of a run down motel and talked to 287 year old woman through a metal security grill. With only three choices of beer, I paid for a six-pack of Kokanee and headed for the hotel to spend the rest of the evening sitting in the parking lot watching the sun set over the field of tumble weed across the street.

 (Yes, I wrote 'field of tumbleweed' and I wasn't joking..)

I spent the next few days working during the day and trying to stay amused in the evening. Desparate for decent food the locals  recommended eating at Rick's Place, the finest restaurant in town. They did warn us to ask if Rick was cooking and only eat there if he was in the kitchen, leaving us unsure of what to do if he was not. We drove by the 'restaurant' twice before realizing that it was was, in fact, a public eatery and entered the room. 'Rick's Place' was a small, homey, room that looked like a converted rec room in someones basement, self decorated with vintage posters and placards of  50's and 60's movie stars. The place was empty and we were served by a young girl that had to go next door to find someone who could take our drink order. The food was good when it arrived shortly after, nothing fancy at all but tasty and home style. We talked and laughed among ourselves and headed back to the hotel early.

Not yet ready for bed, I decided to take a walk through the back fields and see if I could find a nice spot to watch the late northern prarie sunset. The back of the hotel looked out over a construction site but behind that were flat empty fields so I started tramping through the dirt and dust to the get a nicer view. The mounds of dirt and meter wide and deep trenches were a more formidable barrier than I had anticipated and when I emerged thirty minutes later I was covered in a yellowish dusting of.. well, dust I guess. The prairie field was not quite as flat and empty as it had appeared from a couple of hundred meters away and was inconveniently surrounded by a rusty barbed wire fence and gaurded by a 'Keep Out' sign. Thirty meters more past a stand of short brush and I would have a clear view of the whole horizon but I wasn't sure if I should continue. Thoughts of a crazed country farmer protecting his land with a long rifle competed with the prospect of taking a seriously good sunset picture as I watched the sky redden in the distance.

 I skirted around the fence not long after and waded through the almost waist high thorny shrubs. The night was warm and grasshoppers, mosquitos and dragonflies buzzed around in the air, the mosquitos of course paying me the most attention. As the sun fell behind a cloud close to horizon the sky behind it lit up and the ground darkened making me realize suddenly how dificult it would be to manoveur the field of thorns followed by the perils of the construction yard in the dark.

'Stupid city boy!' I thought to myself as I turned and began the walk back to the hotel turning around every few steps to watch the sun drop down and start to turn the sky red and then begin to darken over my shoulder.

Another long drive back to Saskatoon a couple of days later would complete a thousand kilometers around Saskatchewan and Manitoba and my first trip through the prairies.

Flying out of Saskatoon a few days later over the endless patchwork quilt of fields and the empty stretches of prarie grass I had a greater understanding of the 'flat, empty' ground below. A greater understanding perhaps, but not necesarily a greater appreciation. Brandon was wet in terms of water but dry in terms of entertainment. Humboldt was just dry.. a desert in terms of both. Next week back to BC and my favourite city in the country. Vancouver, where there is food and people and traffic and noise and mountains.. those incredible mountains that I first saw back in February. I can't wait.

Edmonton Part 3: A Big Appetite..

Food can become such a major source of concern when one travels as much as I do. Spending time in remote locations increases the challenge of finding decent food, being a vegetarian makes it next to impossible to eat well at times. There have been days when my only sustenance has come from vending machines and small regional airport coffee shops so when I find myself lucky enough to land in a real city I tend to take full advantage of the abundance of grocery stores, restaurants, and food vendors. Edmonton is a city full of fine restaurants and so it happened that a lot of the time I spent, outside of shooting guns and plunging on impromptu hikes down ravines, in the city revolved around the hunt, and subsequent enjoyment, of good times and good meals in good restaurant.

The West Edmonton Mall has a wing known as 'Bourbon St' that is essentially a super-sized food court (this is in addition to the two main fast-food courts and separate Chinatown food court). Bourbon Street is a collection of a dozen full sized restaurants, both chain restaurants as well as a piano bar and comedy club. We settled into a table at Hudson's Canadian Tap House and it didn't take long before we had engaged the entire wait staff and surrounding tables in conversation. Constantly finding myself in strange places, often alone, has forced me to develop an extroverted personality that has not always come naturally to me. By nature of the job I and my colleagues are as classic a group of Type A personalities as you could find and when we get together we often find ourselves dominating the room and tonight was no exception. It didn't take long before we were laughing and telling stories of our travels and we spent the rest of night eating and drinking, exchanging rounds with the waitresses and new friends that had pulled tables together to join us.

(Another sign I'm getting old.. seven straight hours of pints and shots wouldn't have phased me not so long ago- this hangover lasted two days. I can still live like a 25 year old but it seems as though the price to be paid is a helluva lot bigger than it used to be..)

Earlier in the week a cabbie had told me the 'Taste of Edmonton' festival would be worth checking out and F. and I drove downtown one night to see what the city had to offer. About 40 restaurants from around the city were represented and we bought a stack of tickets and started to wander the aisles, at first just absorbing the aromas of dozens of house specialties. A simple Italian pasta whetted our appetites and we followed it up with Polish perogies, and incredible Ahi tuna salad and an amazing dessert of strawberries soaked in Gran Marnier. We wandered around the downtown core for awhile checking out the beer tent as well as some public spaces around the art gallery and city hall before heading off in search of a real meal.

The 100 Club was an upscale restaurant/lounge/nightclub that F. and I discovered downtown Edmonton, not far from the food festival. We were one of only a handful of people in the place but the atmosphere was cool and the music was supplied by a DJ spinning dance and hip-hop records while we ate. We ordered calamari and oysters and a cheese and fruit tray and  F. did his best to pick up the waitresses, but mostly we just chilled out, enjoying the next to last night in town.

Ten days in Edmonton had passed and I had certainly enjoyed my time in a 'real' city, exploring and enjoying the streets, creeks and eats. Flying home, flipping through pictures of my time in the city I really felt I had made the most of the time there. I sat on the plane with a smile on my face until the stewardess came by and informed me that they had run out of veggie sandwiches (which i had pre-ordered). I settled in to enjoy my lunch of pringles and a chocolate bar, thinking of the good times and good eats I had just left behind. 

Edmonton Part2: A Big Weekend

I was spending the weekend alone in town and was looking forward to my more common types of exploring. Always on the lookout for a chance to get into nature I had found a great trail that sounded like it would be perfect. The North Saskatchewan River flows through the River Valley just outside of Edmonton and a running/cycling path stretches about 4 kilometers along its banks and provided the perfect location to walk and take some pictures of a river that was continuing to lead me around the cities of the Canadian west. The drive to The River Valley Nature Park was beautiful and by the time I hopped out of the car and stepped onto the path I was anticipating a great morning. Every half kilometer or so placards were placed describing the novelties of that particular part of the riverside. Some were interesting, drawing my attention to trees or rocks I may have missed but part of me regretted the intrusion of someone else's thoughts of what I should be looking at.

It ended up being a pretty good walk but by 11am I was starving and ready to move on. After a quick breakfast stop I turned the GPS on and let it lead me to Rexall Place, home of the Oilers and one particular point of interest that I couldn't imagine leaving Edmonton without visiting. I found the statue of Wayne Gretzky at the front of the building but tucked off to the side, not the place of prominence I had expected and was someone disappointed by that. Nevertheless I spent a few minutes there and snapped a couple of pictures before moving on.


For my Toronto friends.. I know the Wayner highsticked Dougie and screwed us out of our best chance of a cup in my lifetime. He's still a Canadian icon.. that pass to Lemieux in '87.. magic.

A quick shower and a change of clothes and I was in the back of a cab headed downtown Edmonton. I had intended to rely on the drivers suggestions as where I would find some fun but had little to suggest. I asked about a pub/patio area but he said there really wasn't one. I asked about shopping annexes and he suggested the downtown mall, no street shopping he said. He did finally mention a 'Taste of Edmonton' fair was just starting and there might be some people there so I agreed enthusiastically. He dropped me off and pointed me in the direction, of course the direction ended up being the totally wrong one. 

The wrong way though, for those who know me, often turns out to be the better way and this was no exception.

I had walked a block or two without seeing my life at all when I turned a corner and stumbled into a farmers market. I wandered up and down the aisles and sat enjoying the sun on a curb with a veggie dog. I was just wondering which way to go next when I heard guitars and drums start to warm up. As I followed the noise I heard a PA system turn on and a voice announcing the band and the music started. It was loud and energetic but with a real surf/ rockabilly edge. I came around the corner and was at the side of the small stage whereupon a great band 'The Raygun Cowboys' was belting out loud fast rocakabilly tunes. The audience was an odd group of families with young children dancing up front, a handful of local fans of the band who seemed to be not quite ready to rock out just after twelve noon and a group of Americans who had wandered over from a nearby Edmonton Indy car event.

The band was giving it their all and totally blew me away and when I bumped into the drummer in a nearby pub later that afternoon I made sure I told him how cool it was to randomly wander into such a great live street performance.

Wandering around Edmonton I had spotted a path running along the north side of the river and I was up early Sunday morning ready to explore that part of the city that also included the Government House and the Royal Alberta Museum. I had no intention of spending time inside these places on such a glorious day but I did enjoy wandering around the grounds as I drank my morning Starbucks.

I followed the path for about a kilometer until I came across a staircase that climbed probably 300 meters up the river valley and would offer a great view of the North Saskatchewan River. 15 minutes later I was at the top and after taking a moment to admire the view I followed a street that ran along the top of the valley. Massive houses lined the way and I saw two chauffeured cars on the road waiting with engines running for probably important folks about to do important things. I continued down the street hoping that it would eventually lead back to where I parked but it kept leading me away so when I came across a path that led down a ravine towards the path that had led me to the staircase I decided to take a chance and see if it provided a shortcut.

I clambered down the path grabbing roots and small branches to keep from sliding out of control. I wasn't wearing the right shoes for this at all (a continuing theme in my travels..) and without any water I suddenly realized what a stupid thing I was doing. Stubborn as always I pushed on, or rather, down the ravine not sure if the path I was following was actually not a path at all. Steeper it got until I came crashing out at the bottom at the side of a small stream. The water was cool and I stood in my bare feet for few minutes and pondered my position. I couldn't see a path of any sort on the other side of the ravine and with a sigh realized I would to have to climb back up the way I came and back to the 'established' path. It took almost an hour to work my way back up the slope and another hour to get back to my car where I thirstily emptied the two bottles of water in the car.

Back to the hotel to clean up and then I found a patio not far from the hotel and settled in for a late of afternoon pint and meal. Later that night another colleague would be joining me in town so I was happy to spent the last few hours sitting quietly by myself with a book.

Niagara Falls..

Wow!  The last Ontario project of the year and I was lucky enough to draw St Catherines. Not only was it a part of the province I had never spent much time in, but it turns out the closest corporately approved hotel was the Crowne Plaza in Niagara Falls, right across from the falls and only a 20 minute drive from the worksite.

I drove in the night before my first meeting and was pleased to get an upgraded room with a Falls view but although I had a great view the room was ridiculously small with no work space or even a cupboard to hang my clothes. I considered asking for a room change but decided to suck it up and check out the town ab it as I headed for a Mexican restaurant that I remembered from years ago for dinner. Walking up Clifton Hill the streets were packed with tourists and families and slightly clad Europeans, with bells and whistles and lights and music was quite a change from the excruciating  lack of- well, anything that I had experienced the week before in Timmins.

I sat at the bar at Taco n Tequila and ordered a pint of Buzz beer, a hemp based beer that was one of two organic selections and a stuffed myself with beans and bread and  tortilla and salsa and cheese to help the pints go down. During the course of the next couple of hours I got to know a cool pair who sat had down next to me at the bar, Al and Lisa were karate trainers, soccer players, motorcycle riders and among other things, outlaws. Both made references to their inability to cross the border and Al got visibly defensive when I pushed him on the subject. It turns out Lisa has connections to a Chinese cultural center just steps from my home in Toronto and suggested I stop in next time I was in town. Mentioning her name would evidently get me in to see the head instructor who would, if he chose, instruct me in karate and tai chi. Tai chi has interested me for a long time and the two talked about karate I got excited to perhaps start to learn both.

Early the next morning, I was up early and set to go for a run along the path overlooking the Falls.

For the first time in my life my body has started to pay attention to the horrible things I have been doing to it for a couple of decades now. Countless nights of copious amounts of liquor and food, both fine and fast, have until recently left my figure slim and trim with inconsistent or complete lack of effort on my part. Three months shy of my 40th I find myself with a developing beer belly, a greying beard, and creaking joints. Time for action..

The air was cool and the path was empty of the throngs of tourists that would later make the way almost impassable at any speed faster than a worm. I ran, with neither speed nor style, for about a kilometer between the American and the Canadian Falls and then back along the same way. Not a marathon but enough to feel good about the way I had started the day. When I returned to my room to get ready for work I could barely breathe in the room, the a/c was pumping out waves of heat and wouldn't shut off. Already hot and sweaty from my run, I needed to have a quick shower and get ready for work. When I stepped out of the shower a few minutes later it was jungle humid and hot in the room now. I was still close to soaking wet when I headed to the front desk and get the a/c fixed and then to work. WhenI returned that afternoon the room was still baking and the clerk at the desk gave me a sweet upgrade that would eventually include free breakfast and a bottle of red wine. Cool

By the third evening in the middle of the tourist district in Niagara falls I was ready for a change of scenery so I decided to drive out to Port Delhousie, a town a half hour up the coast of Lake Ontario that was rumoured to offer some of the best sunsets in the province. A sucker for both a good sunset and a good picture taking opportunity I took off for the beach and was settled on a patio with a pint about 6. It was a popular spot and I struck up a conversation easily with a group of locals. I sat in the sun and soaked up the atmosphere until I got hungry then walked to an Indian restaurant just around the corner.  The restaurant had only a small patio with plastic chairs, no indoor seating area and was open at the side giving me a view into the kitchen. I watched the elderly Indian man cook my food and my mouth watered as the breeze brought the smell to my table.  I sat in the sun and opened the stiff clean pages of the novel that I had just bought. The words of JKerouac kept me company for the next hour and a half as I ate the most amazing meal of jasmin rice, da'al chick peas, lentils and na'an. I devoured the food and the words with equal fervour as the time passed and got up as the dusk set in completely satisfied and ready for a sunset on the beach.

I wandered along the sandy beach for awhile looking for a good spot to record the setting sun. It was a gorgeous evening with a clear sky and I could see my home city Toronto waving ghostly across Lake Ontario 80 kms away.

The sun was low in the sky and I started taking pictures. As it slowly slid below the horizon it turned orange and captured the distorted silhouette of a sailboat in the distance it was a magical moment and certainly did nothing to diminish the reputation of the area. With the moment passed I headed back to my car and drove back to Niagara slowly, then spent the rest of evening in my hotel room looking at the pics from the day.

By the fifth morning I think I had forgot the falls were even there until I jogged around the corner on my third morning run of the week. The amazing view that I had been giddy about when I had first looked out my hotel room window had lost its novelty and the crowds of tourists and the noise of Clifton Hill began to frustrate me each morning and afternoon as I commuted to work each day.  It was relieving to get out of the city to the calmness of  the suburbs of St Catherines every day. Although I had some great food and great times in the Falls during the evenings of the workweek, I began to feel like I was living in a circus. The lights and noise and crowds were omnipresent and grating and by the end of the week I was quite ready to leave it behind except..

I had decided to extend the stay for an extra night as a good friend had arranged to spend a day in the Falls. The town took on a completely different flavour now that I was on my own time and as I enjoyed it with company, Niagara Falls totally regained it's awesomeness. The buzz of Clifton Hill was energizing and we ate great food on a patio that featured incredibly talented wait staff that sangbetween serving the tables and then later wandered and stopped to listen to music where ever we heard it. The next day we rode the ferris wheel and then walked down along the Falls The natural power and beauty of the place was inspiring and we took pictures like all the other tourists as we marvelled. It was so great to end the trip on such a high note and though eager to get home for a couple of days I was sad to leave.

I will be home just long enough to see the kid, pay the rent, throw a Frisbee, unpack, do laundry, repack and head back to the airport for a trip to Edmonton, Alberta. Edmonton.. they have a mall there I think. I hear it may have a roller coaster.

That may be fun..

Cedar Meadows, Timmins, Ontario

There's not much point in writing about Timmins. It's shitty. Blunt, but true. There's nothing interesting there, I tried but failed, completely, to find anything to do there.. for six days. Justin Beiber was in town, even that didn't help. I saw a lot of french fry/poutine/hamburger stands, a bar advertising 'amateur stripper' night and a street festival comprising a few plastic patio tables and a 'Heart and Stroke Foundation' booth. I ate at generic chain restaurants and drank at generic sports bars.

That's it.

I did stay at an interesting, although second rate, spa/resort called Cedar Meadows. The hotel sits on a bunch of acres (really.. what the hell is an acre?) of wildlife preserve. The property houses a herd of deer, a trio of clydesdale work horses, a dozen moose and four buffalo along with ducks swans and all the usual bird suspects. Deer and horses 'pen up' in yards within sight of the hotel and I spent several evenings sitting on a plastic chair on the small patio outside my room watching them. Mosquitoes the size of flying rats feasted on me as I tried to enjoy the animals, the big sky, and the beautiful setting.

The horses especially were friendly and would run right to the fence between us as soon as I approached. The deer were less sociable and retreated with their young fawns to the farthest corners of their field.

Luckily I was kept busy at work and had my full team to keep me company during downtimes as well as a surprise encounter with a former colleague who joined me for a horrible dinner at a local all you can eat steakhouse run by a friendly, but completely daft, Sri Lankin fellow who said he specialized in Jamaican food, of which their was none on the 26 page menu. Usually you can rely on the locals to recommend some interesting and decent quality places to eat.. this time they wrong.

With the team scattering across country on the fourth day, I was left alone for 80 hours in Timmins with little to occupy my time outside of my four hour work days. The spa at the motel which offered massages, steamrooms, hottubs and sauna's was open funny hours and needed appointments in advance so that didn't work out and all though there was a beautiful open air courtyard with a hammock that I longed for, but I couldn't quite rationalize the $35 fee if I couldn't take advantage of any of the other facilities.

At least Timmins has some very nice walking paths, one that followed a 3km loop around the Mattigami River. It was a pleasant path that would've most likely encouraged me to actually start the daily jogging regimen that I have being trying to psych myself into for the last month or so. Unfortunately (depending on the perspective) I had no shoes for jogging. In fact I had neglected to bring any shoes other than my flip flops and Chuck Taylor classic hi-tops. This oversight resulted in a franctic drive around town before the first day of work to try to find something appropriate for work. (I ended up buying the only pair of black mens shoes in town, an ugly pair of mesh covered slip ons that I'm sure I will never wear again!) The only problem with the paths was the existence of bear warnings every 100 meters or so, leaving one to be on constant alert for hungry bears.

The only activity I had an interest in was a 90 minute wagon ride, courtesy of the Clydesdales, into and through the reserve to watch the animals in their more natural environment. With camera in hand I was excited for the experience until I saw the wagon and about a dozen kids and a few odd parental figures waiting on the crowded wagon. N'uh uh.. I said discouragedly. The quiet horse drawn drive through the thick woods to see bison and moose would not pan out the way I envisioned and I decided not to go. As I sat with a can of beer outside my room a half hour later, the bird-sized mosquitoes attacked me in swarms and I imagined the young delicate skin of the dozen children on the wagon being eaten alive as the moose hid behind trees and laughed.

Driving down the highway on my way to and from work I had caught glimpses of the moose and buffalo in the dense forests and on the last evening in town I went for a drive around the perimeter of the resort to see if there was a way to sneak in to take some pictures. I pulled off the side of the highway but was disappointed by a high bard wired fence that rang in both directions as far I could see. I guess I shouldn't have been suprised as any opening would've exposed the animals to the traffic. The moose that I had seen grazing in the fields earlier in the week were nowhere to be seen but a pair of buffalo ambled around the property tearing chunks of grass from the ground as the shuffled slowly. I had never seen buffalo before and I crouched in the mud for a long time watching the huge cratures eat.

Checking out of the hotel at the end of the long week in Timmins I realized that this would be my last trip to Northern Ontario and I had mixed feelings about it. I consider myself remarkably lucky to have had the opportunities to work in all the Northern communities that I have visited over the last four years. I have stories to tell about Rainy River, Dryden, Kenora, Thunder Bay, North Bay Sudbury, Kapaskasing Sault Ste Marie, Timmins.. the list seems endless. I have seen crazy things in these towns, things weird and wonderful, amusing and confusing. and experienced incredible highs and lows as I worked in and explored the towns and cities of Northern Ontario.

One final trip in Southern-West Ontario to  Niagara Falls represents the final stop in Ontario before I start spending extended periods in Western Canada. I'll be travelling to places like Humbolt, Alberta and Grand River, SASK in the coming weeks. But first I will spend a week at the Crowne Plaza  in Niagara Falls on the company dime.

...I can't think of a much better send-off.

Prince Albert, Saskatchewan... in a can.

One of my favourite descriptions of the Canadian prairies is that 'it's so flat and boring in the prairies you can watch your dog run away for two days'. From the airplane I could see that the flat part was right but I was hoping that I could find something more exciting than dog watching to look at during my four day visit to Prince Albert, about 400 kms north of Saskatoon.

The small Pronto Airlines plane bumped down at 6pm, about six hours after I left Toronto at 2pm. Time changes confuse the hell out me and when my blackberry didn't reset itself properly in either Winnipeg or Saskatoon I was thrown off for the next three days, constantly asking people what the real time was. Being in communication with people across the country often adds to my confusion and I've missed more than one flight because I misread/misunderstood what time it was.

For once I had assembled my whole team in town the day before the work project began, and with one member of the team leaving after this job I had planned on sending her off with a night out to remember. We checked in at the hotel and then met at Rogues Tavern across the parking lot for a couple of pints of Great Northern beer. Rogues is a local bar, with a hard working blue collar clientele. In other words, a shit hole.. but the sun beamed down on the patio and the company was excellent and we talked and laughed for a couple of hours. Nicely lubricated by the sun and the beer we later headed to dinner at 'Amy's On 2nd', a restaurant that was highly recommended by the locals.

I've come to appreciate the wonderful restaurants that exist in small outposts across this country and northern towns, whether Ontario, the Prairies or on either of our coasts, constantly amaze me by outclassing the restaurants found in the larger cities of the south. The pickerel special at 'Amy's' had me salivating by the end of the waiter's description but sadly, when it arrived almost an hour later, did not live up to the reputation that preceded it's late arrival. We washed down our meals with several bottles of Chilean wine and a decadent cheesecake and toasted the boss back in Toronto for approving the ridiculous expenses that might accumulate during the week. About 11pm local time our we (I) paid the bill at Amy's and walked around the corner to the Northern Lights Casino. I quickly lost the $20 I had in my pocket and sheepishly went in search of an ATM. The four of us then settled in at a blackjack table and proceeded to try, in our fairly inebriated state, to not act like a bunch of drunken city folk on a business trip in Northern Saskatchewan.

It wasn't long before we attracted the attention of the 'pit-bosses' (Pit-boss is a new word to me.. one I'm pretty sure I'll never use again.) We were warned about noise, cursing, late betting, jumping (in celebration ), hitting the table (in frustration) and god knows what else. We were not warned about over betting. Against all odds, literally and figuratively, my stack of chips continued to grow as everyone else's dwindled and after a bunch of hands I cashed in and realized I was up $100. We wrapped up the night later at the hotel drinking Crown and cokes out of tiny plastic hotel room cups, laughing and sending drunken e-mails and pictures to our colleagues across the country.

As always work duties kept me busy the next couple of days but the morning of the third day brought a few hours break in my work schedule and I grabbed the opportunity to head out to explore the wild streets of Prince Albert. Excited, as always, to see what the hidden jem was to be found in this small northern prairie town. I followed green lights around town for a half hour, seeing the same box stores, fast food chains and gas stations that I see everywhere until I saw a road sign pointing to River Street. Most places seem to have a River St or Front St or Lakeshore Dr and I inevitably gravitate to them. Water usually means public spaces and picture taking opportunities and this particular River St did not disappoint.

The Saskatchewan River, I learned on Wikipedia, is a pretty frickin big river. It runs from the Alberta Rockies all the way to Lake Winnipeg. It was cool to stand beside a river that I have looked down on a dozen times from airplane windows as it snakes it way 500 kms across the prairies.

The river allowed water travel across the country 'back in the day' and Prince Albert played a big part in the history of early exploration, the Hudson's Bay Co, Louis Riel's uprising in 1885, Canadian Conservatism, and countless other interesting events all depicted on various plaques and monuments along the river. I walked along the river for awhile and then headed into town to find myself in the older, and somewhat seedier district. It was so depressing to see the same obvious issues here as in so many other northern towns. Poverty, second rate liquor stores, shitty rooming houses, and pawn shops are the backdrop to men stumbling around in the morning or lying on sidewalks.

 (So often men of our First Nations,  still struggling with the same issues of the last hundred years. I've seen it in Winnipeg, Toronto, Thunder Bay, The Soo, Sudbury, Vancouver.. homelessness, unemployment, under-education.... alcoholism, drug abuse, poverty.  I feel shame when I encounter this face to face over and over again and wish the whole country felt the same.)

I wandered around the streets of Old Prince Albert, checking out the buildings down the sidestreets and finding little hints of what it would've been like in those historic times.Old painted advertisements on the sides of buildings selling chewing tobacco and O-Pee-Chee Chewing gum catch my eye and after I snap pics I see demolition signs on the front of the buildings.. another piece of history gone.

I headed back to my rental car, walking through the town square and checking out the original Town Hall (circa 1892) Opera House, Jail and Museum (closed as per usual) then drove 'uptown' to check out the house of our 13th PM, John G Diefenbaker.

(Way back in grade 6 history we had to pick a Canadian historical figure to do a project on. I don't know why I picked good ol' John G but I did and as a result know way more than anyone else I know about this mid-century PM.) 

 I felt like an Elvis fan approaching Graceland as I followed the road markers through the tree-lined, tony streets to the small-ish, modest house. I rolled down the window and snapped a picture with my BlackBerry® (don't even ask about my brand new already dropped in lake now abandoned on airplane camera) and headed back to the hotel to get ready for work.

One last dinner that night with the team at an amazing steakhouse called Sopranos where I ate the best lobster ravioli ever made wrapped up the trip for most of the group and we parted with full bellies and a slight wobble in our steps as the result of more than a couple of bottles of wine.

 (I highly recommend this Sopranos to anyone ever having the misfortune to find themselves in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan!!)

With most of the team having flown or driven out early the next morning G. and I planned on killing the last few hours in town wandering around the Historical Museum and the Art Gallery, both of which she had called to make sure they were open. The museum was surprisingly interesting and well stocked with artifacts of both local and national significance. It was well worth the two dollar admission and 25 cent per hour parking meter. We finished up at the museum and started walking to the Art Gallery when G realized that our plane was leaving two hours earlier than we thought (again that time difference threw me off!) The Art Gallery was out and we ran to the car then raced to the airport calling the rental company on the way to tell them they would have to pick up their car there. With no time to eat before 6 hour of flights ahead of me I grabbed vending machine snacks and stuff as much crap into my face as I could while the attendant tried to push me through security.

NorthWestern Airlines 'flew' us back to Saskatoon then 'chaffeured' us down the street to the 'real' terminal in a short bus that was quite obviously a castoff from the Korean War. I wouldn't have been surprised if the driver had asked us to hop out and give the bus a push to get it started. We arrived at Air Canada terminal a short ride later and ran for our connecting flight, hoping that someone remembered to take our luggage and route it on to Toronto. With luck we had a delay in Saskatoon and had the time to sit down for lunch, of course my meal came stuffed with chicken which I can't eat and I sent it back and got on the next flight still hungry. Turbulence prevented any food service on the 2.5 hour flight to Winnipeg and I got through the flight digging stale peanuts out of my backpack and pretending that it wasn't my stomach making all that noise.

A quick turnaround in the 'Peg and on to Toronto, the final leg of the journey. Food was served on the Air Canada flight but by the time they reached my seat they had sold out of veggie sandwiches and pizza so I once again tried to fill up on junk. Pringles, chocolate and beer served as lunch and dinner and my stomach churned and gurgled in protest.

Touching down in Toronto at about 10pm, six hours after leaving Prince Albert at 2pm, I waited an hour for my luggage and headed home. A ridiculous traffic slowdown on the highway extended the trip an extra hour and I was glad to finally hit my exit and be almost home at last. With my mind already focused on what I may have to eat in the fridge at home to make the by now epic rumbling in my stomach stop I was surprised less than a kilometer from home when the police car raced up behind me and pulled me over for an 'amber light infraction.' With my license and insurance nowhere to be found (bottom of suitcase) the cop was happy to write me three tickets totalling almost $300 .

Welcome home.

Fort McMurray

I had been dreading the four day trip to Fort McMurray in Northern Alberta ever since it appeared in my calendar. The small city is most famous for the massive oil sand developments but also has a reputation for bar fights, gun incidents, and highly carcinogenic air-pollution.

None of those things would be as worrisome as the fires.

A thousand meters above ground I caught the first whiff of the campfire smell that would cling to me all week, and as the plane broke through the cloud cover we could spot the plumes of smoke rising from two forest fires burning in Northern Alberta. Walking out of the airport 'terminal' in Fort McMurray the air hung heavy with smoke and tiny flakes of ash and the sun shone a dull orange in the afternoon sky. The fact that a forest fire at Slave Lake, only 400 kilometers away, had devastated the town several days before certainly had me concerned and when I turned on the radio in my rental (the only car in town that wasn't a pickup) I learnt there was a fire much closer that was classified as 'out of control.'

I made my way to my hotel, an older Super 8 that will hereafter be referred to as the Super 3 1/2, and was further put on edge by the note taped the the door warning of a bear sighting in the parking lot.

Seriously.. a bear!?! Oh my.

Work responsibilities kept me busy during the first couple of days, but as I commuted through the city I was staggered by the natural beauty of the area. I have now spent time north in Ontario, Manitoba and Alberta and I am always blown away by the beauty of Canada''s north. Forests and lakes and mountains provide such an incredible backdrop to some dreary days on the road and although I'm always glad to head home I consider myself extremely lucky to see the Canadian landscapes that I do.

After work the third night in town I had arranged, through a mutual acquaintance, to meet H for drinks. H is an engineer at one of the companies developing the oil sands as well as an avid hiker who lives part time in the city and I had a great time picking her brain about things to do while I was in town. I woke early, and with my first bit of free time coinciding with a beautifully sunny (and relatively smoke and ash free) morning I had a several things I wanted to do.

I contemplated visiting a park not far outside the city thata colleague had told me about. The area sits on a tract of processed oil sand land that has been reclaimed and is now home to a transplanted herd of buffalo. This seemed such a massive counterbalance to the negative feelings I have about the destruction of the land by oil companies and I would've loved to see it but it would've taken too much time so I had settled on a visit to a local artists shop that H had recommended and several hours of exploring the 200 kms of trails that are found in the vast parks within the town. I ate a pretty crummy breakfast at the hotel and headed into the city center on a 'blind tour' in the car.


Fort McMurray is different than any other northern town I've visited. Because so many northern towns have a forestry based economy they mostly in decline and I see so many boarded up buildings and 'for sale' signs that I wonder how much longer the towns will exist. Here though I found myself in a northern city, with an oil based economy and it was booming. Construction was everywhere, with roads and housing in every stage of completion everywhere I looked. The extreme high cost of living was evidenced by one block of 'stacked housing', essentially 2-3 bedroom apartment complexes, were under construction and advertising for almost 1/2 million dollars. Higher end chain restaurants have all claimed their stake and new retail areas are in development.


On the way to the artists studio I passed a sign indicating a Heritage Park not far away and I decided to stop in quickly to see what was to be seen. Unfortunately the park was all fenced in and didnt open for another hour which was too bad because it looked like they had some neat artifacts of the early days in the existance of the town. I scrambled around the outskirts of the park, sneaking peaks and snapping pics through the chain link fence until a school bus pulled in out front and I got dirty looks from a woman I assumed was the teacher.


The gallery had just opened when I arrived I wandered around looking at the paintings by local talent depicting the area in and around Ft McMurray as well as some stunning recreations of the Aroura Borealis, a spectacle that I have long wished to see in all it's glory. The shop belongs Kelvin, alocal resident who has been painting all his life and he took the time to show me some of his work and talk about it even though it became obvious very quickly that I couldn't afford the price tag on even the smallest work. We had a bit of a chat and when I left telling him I was on my way for a hike he suggested a couple of locations that would be worth the climb.


With hundreds of km's of trails to choose from I picked one from a map I had picked up at the visitor center that came with several warnings sheets about bears and forest fires. The eight kilometer trail followed a broad grass and dirt access road for about 1500 meters before ducking into a forest of poplars (?) and white birch trees. Birds called from the branches loudly as I walked and the sounds of traffic faded quickly. I followed the trail for about an hour through the forest until I came out on a lookout with a great view of the Athabasca River. After a short rest I continued along the trail as it started to loop back along the river. There was evidence of bears and deer along the way but I saw neither as I walked along whistling in lieu of a bell. I had chosen this particular trail because it ended at a spot i thought might be interesting and I wasnt disappointed.

/div>


Fort Mac has the largest outdoor excercise area in the world. Workout machines are placed every hundred meters or so along the trail and are free and available for anyone to use. The stations all use the persons on body weight and are safe for children as well as being accessible to the physically disabled. It was a really cool setup and made me think that this was a gym that I would actually use (during the summer)




Walking through forests gives me such a profound sense of peace and it had been many months since I had done so. Physically tired but mentally rejuvenated I got back to my car about an hour later and headed back to the hotel to get ready for work.


I woke up early but fresh the next day and got ready for the flight home. I took my time having breakfast (at least what the Super 3 1/2 hotel 'calls' breakfast) and still had time to take a scenic route back to the airport. I had anticipated getting some great shots of the Athabasca River but the smoke was thicker than it had been for days at there was nothing to take pictures of. Still taking my time I got to the airport and waited patiently for the absentee rental agent to arrive. Grabbing a coffee I headed to the check in counter and announced myself for the 10am flight to Toronto I was told there was no flight at that time.





Hmm.




I asked all the usual stupid questions that I sometimes have to ask. What day is it? Am I in the right town? The right airport? I pulled up my electronic itenerary and realized I had looked at the wrong flight and my intended flight had left 15 minutes ago. Right about the time I was waiting so patiently at the rental counter. Booked on a 2pm flight I now had 4 hours to kill in a very small airport. With my phone and laptop both low on juice I went and searched for an outlet.





Nine hours later I stepped off the plane in Toronto and breathed my first breath of clean air in days (how strange to think of Toronto air as being clean but at least it didn't have ash falling from the sky) and turned my phone back on. A stream of emails, texts and bbm messages flooded my phone and as I skimmed through them it became apparent that the senior staff in Fort McMurray had all resigned after my team had left.




Four days wasted in the Ft Mac and it sounds like someone may have to go back.. thankfully my schedule has already been filled up with trips to poular destinations like Prince Albert in northern BC, Orangeville and Timmins Ontario.

Exploring the Soo.. to the best of my ability.

I had flown into Sault Ste Marie three days ago and had essentially been confined to working in a dingy second rate mall during the day and drinking copious amounts of beer at the Water Tower Inn at night and with less than 24 hours until I flew again out I was itching to spend the little down time I had exploring a bit. I had visited the Soo a couple of times before but this time I was determined to find what, if any, culture existed there beyond the worn out chain restaurants and seen-better-day malls I had been exposed to so far.

I know there are amazing day trip possibilitites in the area, Northern Ont is always beautiful, and the land around the Sault no different and filled all sorts of outdoor adventure but I had work responsibilities later in the day and was confined to town. I decided to do what I never do- research. I spent a few minutes online and browsed through the phamphlets in the room and noticed the location of a few sites with the potential for interest. There is a 6.7 km Downtown Heritage Walk that I could follow and hit a lot of the 'hotspots' and would take me close to a local diner/restaurant/hole in the wall that an uncle had recommended for lunch.

I hopped in a borrowed car and cruised south through town on Great Northern Rd heading, as is so often the case while exploring, towards the water. St. Mary's River serves as the international boundary and I walked for about a kilometer along the boardwalk reading plaques and historical signs. I've found it's a good idea to stop and read plaques when in smaller towns and cities. If someone has taken the time to erect a historical monument there, it usually means something fairly important or interesting actually happened, not like in Toronto where we slap plaques and designations on every other building (but never the right ones it seems). I learnt a lot about the history of the area and the importance of the city and the river and the locks that were constructed to allow passage to Lake Superior.

Tributes and memorials to heros like Roberta Bondar, who made it all the way to space, explorers like Etienne Brule who made it all the way from France and local 'musher' Billy Orazietti, who did not make it all the way across the lake all added to the experience of the 'heritage' walk.

The boardwalk leads right into Clergue Park and my next destination, The Sault St Marie Art Gallery of Algoma. I wandered through the park stopping to check out the various sculptures that adorn the grounds, mostly welded steel sculpture that I'm sure takes skill and strength to create but doesn't generally do much for me in terms of 'artistic' accomplishment. Hoping that the art on the inside is better than that on the outside I head towards the gallery only to find it closed and undergoing renovations. Renovations I assume only beacause of the number of hardhatted overall wearing type dudes clustered around the front- I'm only assuming they were there for a different reason than I was.

The front doors of the gallery were locked with no posted hours which was a disappointment andeing quite finished with the outdoor 'art' I grabbed a coffee and headed back along the lake, making one last stop at the 'quarter for a minute' binoculars to peer across at the American side of the river. The US city of Sault Ste Marie, Michigan has had a strong military presence since the war of 1812 (when First Nation warriors kept taking British troops across the river to burn anything they could find that belonged to the Yankee's) and in my 60 second spyglass tour I could take in several historical forts and the American Soo river lock system that allows passage between Lake Michigan and the other great lakes.

I walked away feeling I had got my 25 cents worth.

Bypassing the 2km hike to the far end of the boardwalk I head back to the car and drive to the next stop of on the tour. The SSM Museum is supposed have a huge collection of Voyageur/coir-de-bois artifacts that I was looking forward to seeing but again I found the doors closed- strike two. The Bush Plane Museum was next and although I had now plan on going in I decided to walk over and see if it looked interesting. Guess what? Closed. Although it was wicked that they were advertising that they were open for brunch on Mothers Day.

Hey Mom. Its your special day! Lets go look at bushplanes!

Getting disillusioned by the city's attempts to lock me out I made one final attempt to expose myself to the culture and history of the Sault. The Ertimger-Clergue Historical Site is the last stop on the 'Downtown Heritage Walk'. A small grassy area close to the Bushplane Museum contains 2 historical buildings. Although the gate was closed (what the hell??) I climbed over a small fence and wandered around the property. The Ertaminger House and the Block House are pre- War of 1812 constructions, surviving that war to become two of the oldest stone structures north of of Toronto. The site also has an area dedicated to native plants and First Nation farming that showed how the early settlers first learnt to use the land and what crops to plant. It was pretty neat but only took about 4.5 minutes to see.

Now finished my tour of downtown Sault Ste Marie I had planned to the Fort Creek conservation area. For once I had brought appropriate shoes and regardless of the fact I was still nursing a sprained ankle and slightly broken foot I had been dying to get some sort of a hike in. Wandering around the city though had already left my foot throbbing and swollen so I decided to skip the hike and headed to get some lunch instead thinking although it was cool and grey it would be nicer sitting in the park to eat rather than going back to the hotel. The restaurant that I was looking for had, in fact, gone out of business a few months back and much to my chagrin I ended up settling for some fairly suspect sushi.

Slighty bummed out by not getting into either the Art Gallery or the Musuem I headed back to the hotel. Thinking I knew where I was going I didn't bother turning on the gps and ended up taking the wrong road back. I decided to keep going for a bit, not in any rush and before long a passed a little strip mall with a roadside sign advertising used vinyl and books. Being a sucker for both I did a quick u-turn and headed in. 'The Rad Zone' was a pretty cool shop, a huge selection of used vinyl that I flipped through withought finding either of the vinyl gems that I'm currently on the hunt for (BB King 'Live in Cook County Jail' and the self titled first Stone Roses LP). They had a huge selection of top 4o stuff from the 70's and 80's, as well as some early punk rawk/thrash stuff that was in pretty crappy condition so I didn't bite on anything.

A used book store called 'Hole in the Wall' was through an open doorway in the back of the record store and I headed back to browse. The bookstore was a maze of shelves and boxes and stacks of books. History, philosophy and literature sections far outspaced those shelves reserved for pulp fiction and I found an impressive 'collectable' section that had some very old and early edition classics. The disorder made it hard to browse but I was quickly taken by the quality of the selection that I hadn't expected in a used bookstore thorugh a door in the the back of a used record store in a faded strip mall on a backroad in Sault Ste Marie.

I stopped when the guy behind the counter said hello and I remarked on how glad I was that I stopped. He asked if I had found anything and I told his I was disappointed that I hadn't but that I thought it was a really great shop. We talked for a few minutes as he unpacked boxes of used books. Just as I'm about to leave he puts a stack of soft covers on the counter and on the top is the jewel...

A copy of Neal Cassidy's 'The First Third' stares up at me. I've been searching for this book all over Toronto for months and grab it off the counter quickly. Neal Cassidy could safely be called the first member of the beat generation. He's the hero of Kerouac's classic beat novel 'On the Road' (my favourite book) and became the busdriver for early Hippie culture. 'The First Third' is his autobiography essentially and I've been dying to read it. I agree $6 is a fair price and I'm out the door knowing he could've charged five times that much and still be underpricing the book.

The rest of my team were all scattering across the country so the rest of my day would be consumed with work. I ended the trip with a evening in a loud blues bar at the hotel where the band were forced to compete with the Stanley Cup playoffs on the big screen for the attention of the audience. I had a great time sharing road stories at the bar with a guy from Ottawa who travels for an naturla gas company. I mentioned I was off to Fort McMurray in a few weeks and his first comment was that I should get in and out of Fort Mac as quickly as I can. He said it's a hard working, very hard drinking town with Roadhouse style barfights and Fightclub type attitudes.

My northern Ontario trips are coming to end and I'll soon be being getting my first look at the North Alberta. I'm already scared.