One of our neighbours, during the worst of the heat wave, strung up white sheets on tight lines outside her house as a kind of reflector of the sun. That did not work, of course, but it likely did deflect some of the sun’s direct in-the-window rays. She may have kept the heat down a degree….

Because we have swallows nesting on a gable end right smack-dab on the hottest part of the house, I usually water down that side of the house a few times a day and also wet the decks. The swallows seem to be doing OK.

I also have an air conditioner. I bought it two or three years ago. It is a cheap Danby portable and it blows out air at 17 degrees C. The problem is that it blows out 17-degree cool air kind of weakly into a 26+ degree room and it had no real effect. Still, by the end of the day, the room was still 26C and the immediate outside was 33C. It must have helped some.

We live OTG. All electricity used has to be first ‘made’ by our panels and then ‘managed’ by our equipment. Basically, we can only handle about 30 amps of draw at a time – and only 20 amps on any one circuit. The AC took 15+ and, of course, we have all sorts of other minor draws that add up and so, if we used the chop saw or, way worse, washed clothes (water pump and washing machine), we’d threaten to pop a breaker not to mention suck down the batteries. In the worst of the heat, I was thinking of getting another few ACs. But the math just doesn’t work.

OTG’ers have to be mindful of their power use and, of course, we are. If you are not, you go dark and that serves as a stark reminder in real time. We are good power brokers, so to speak. But, but, but…..when the sun is high in the sky and beating down mercilessly, that makes for gobs of power. With surplus power at the ready, you can use it to…..(wait for it)…run an AC! One would think that an AC is one of the top verboten appliances living OTG but, because of when it is needed there is also gobs of power to run it, so it works out just fine.

But not two of them. I am gonna have to think on this challenge a bit more. One untested plan is to string up a line of misters around the house and over the roof. The water is pumped (big draw but somewhat intermittent) up through the pipes and it then ‘rains’ on the house all day long. That might be effective to some extent….better than white sheets on tight lines, not as good as 3 or 4 ACs.

During the hottest days, we pretty much stopped working but, of course, as soon as the temperature became normal we got back at it. You’ll never guess what our then-current chore was….? Yeah, you guessed right…firewood! Those piles of logs we pulled up and I blogged about some time back are now reduced to half what they were. Our wood shed is full! We have more to do but the pressure is off. We have enough in the shed for a whole winter.

This blog on the elements wouldn’t be complete without a water report. And, as you likely guessed (God, you know me so well) the water stopped flowing again. We weren’t really surprised. Heat waves do that kind of thing. But our source is pretty reliable so Sal went off to climb the stream and see. Walking along to her boat, she heard a heavy gushing sound…one of the pipes had broken. She stuck it back together and we are now fully water-backed.

Living OTG is all about the simple things. Keep the water running, keep the place warm in the winter and cool in the summer and keeping the larder full. Keeping all machines operating perfectly is virtually impossible so ‘live with it’ but learn to fix everything. And the icing on the cake? It takes an amber-coloured liquid form from Scotland or a similar purple form from a variety of grapes and places. Anything more complicated is not really welcome.

CM is currently our minister for Infrastructure and, prior to that, she was an influence (for three months) on the Covid 19 effort. Her longest stint was as Minister for the Environment. But she has now had enough. She’s quitting politics. It turns out that CM was greatly affected by the Covid pandemic and it made her reflect on what was important. Her kids are important and Climate Change is important. She is quitting government (by not running again) to focus on kids and climate.

Think about that…….

Most of us think that, to get anything done on climate change, one should be in government. If one was to be as influential as possible on such issues, being Minister of the Environment would be ideal. Being a minister in the most influential ministry for climate for four years just might be the best use of one’s time. Cathy got that. CM was the minister of the Environment for four years from 2015 to 2019.

But, apparently, she’s leaving the Liberals to work on Climate Change. It screams the question: what more can Cathy do on Climate Change that she could NOT do as Minister of the Environment?

It is the hottest day on record here in BC. We are two days from Canada Day. And Cath decides today is a good day to announce her departure and leave her influential position in the Liberals. She seemingly has more important things to do. But her departure speaks volumes….I think…but volumes of what?

“Government is a waste of time…nothing gets done…I’m quitting?” “My party couldn’t care less about the environment?” “I got my pension so screw everyone else?”

Or could it be something else? I just find it quite perplexing….there may be all sorts of reasonable motives behind such a decision…..how could I possibly know? All I know is that a person who achieves the second highest office in the land, who gets the highest office on the topic she is dedicated to and who has been in on all the inner cabinet meetings is now quitting that ‘opportunity’……

Isn’t that odd?

Edgar Rice Burroughs wrote the novel, Tarzan, and, in so doing, invented a language for the Great Apes. In that language (Mangani) the words in the blog title mean: “Warning! I come to kill the White man!”

I had some tenuous acquaintances back in the 70’s with some Black Panther-types in Seattle. They hated basic whitey and talked nasty alla time but, for the most part, it was just talk and posturing for each other. They were nice enough to me and Sally and our mutual friend (who was married to one of them). We got along.

One day when we were visiting, Malcom X (or whoever) had just come over with his brand new, purebred Afghan hound. A beautiful dog. He had come over to get help with registering it as a purebred in the American Kennel Club (AKC). Seems each dog requires three names. So the brothers were all throwing out names but agreeing on none of them. I suggested they call the dog, Kreegha Bundolo Tarmangani.

Six or so black, angry, militant faces looked at me like I was mad. “Wha..de hell yo’ talkin’, white boy?” I explained what the words meant and where they came from. They screamed with delight and that became the name of the guy’s new dog.

Now a careful PC reading of the above two paragraphs can find white, male privilege and even, maybe, some racist sentiments running rampant there. Firstly, I was using my paltry education and my penchant for reading to ‘teach’ them what I knew. I suggest that, at the time, few if any of them had read Tarzan and/or all of the works of E.R. Burroughs as I had. I’d opine that a few may not have read much at all. Clearly, I was manifesting white privilege and being patronizing. That was not my intention, however, and they knew it, but an ignorant, modern, PC advocate might chide me for it. I would definitely be rebuked for writing their question to me in psuedo-black-speak.

However, the name, suggesting that the dog will kill the white man, is clearly also a form of hate mongering to any PC Karen. I would have fingers pointing at me and them on that, for sure. After all, I was obviously suggesting the white somewhat-equivalent of the N-word to name the dog. To be fair, Malcom X joining the AKC was intended as a rebuke to the AKC collective major whiteness as well but that might be OK – he was ‘of colour’, after all, and was allowed to openly hate the white oppressor under the Black Panther banner.

But all that tedious analysis of the petty and picayune was not in fashion back then and they loved the name and elected to use it. The AKC was, at the time, 99.999% white (maybe more). Kreegha Bundolo Tarmangani was a subtly veiled threat to the club. But the Panthers were OK with that. So was I. And, as it turned out, so was the AKC. They were either very tolerant or equally as ignorant of Burrough’s work.

One can analyze all of the above in any number of ways but if the analysis did not put a huge emphasis on intent, it would miss the mark completely. My intent was to help them name their dog in a way that they would like. My intent was not to be patronizing but helpful and, I confess, amusing. Despite walking into a verbal minefield amongst potential enemies, the good intention was what was heard and no harm was done to me, the dog, the AKC or to Sally.

My point? Intention is a huge part of communication. My intention yesterday was to address the now-popular misconception that Canada waged REAL genocide on it’s indigenous peoples. Canada did not. Canada did not intend to kill thousands of their children and Canada did not actually kill any of them, not intentionally, anyway. As in the US schools, TB killed virtually all the victims. Canada’s crime was one of neglect, perhaps reckless endangerment, maybe even criminal negligence by some individuals. It was not pre-meditated mass murder.

I did not ignore the harm Canada did. I did not sweep any crimes under the carpet. I simply clarified the word, genocide. To be fair, I might even have hinted that Canada’s intention was basically good (for the era, given the times, and even delegated to churches) but that it was wrong-headed, mismanaged, mishandled, cruel and destructive in the result.

Intent, tho a huge part of the plan to assimilate, is not enough of an excuse if the actions taken were so bad and the intent – from the start – was wrong.

By the way, our intent wasn’t even well thought out. Ryerson basically copied the US model of Mission Schools for Native Americans. The US closed their last such school in 1984.

Canada is guilty of being bloody stupid, slow to fix what must have been obvious after a while and even stupider in doing what they do now – now that they know what happened. Canada has stumbled badly on this, no question. And they continue to do so. But genocide was not then nor was it ever on the agenda. The goal was indoctrination and cultural erasure….ignorant and nasty but not homicide, not genocide.

Money and effort have been spent in great gobs over the years and more is planned in future*. Those compensatory monies and efforts have been judged inefficient and unproductive but the native population has remained relatively stable. Ergo: NOT genocide. (*anyone who attended a Residential school is currently entitled to additional government compensation. The range is from $10,000 to $200,000 depending on the level of abuse).

Indigenous peoples still suffer more than they should (i.e. just in having clean drinking water on reserves). If some readers think the Residential schools were waging genocide, what do they think of the ten-times-the-normal rate of contaminated water, boil-water-advisories FNs suffer every year? If killing them off is the plan, dirty water might have been a better weapon than very poorly managed Residential schools.

For some reason, I have been taking a slightly different-than-PC stance on some sacred matters lately. I do not apologize for that and, to be clear again, I am not opposed to all things PC – ish or even bovine. It just feels to me that some of it has gone too far. I will not bore you with repetition but it seems I, now, might go too far again….

WARNING! I am about to say something that may get me in hot water. Hot water I can take. I can also take criticism and correction if I am wrong so feel free with your slings and arrows. All I ask is that you do not consider me heartless or cruel. A heartless Pinko is a man who has lost his way.

Here we go: Because 215 children’s graves were found at the Kamloops Residential School DOES NOT constitute genocide. Moreover, it may not indicate much of anything! Of course, the Residential Schools were ill-conceived, seemingly poorly run and maybe even criminally negligent and cruel at times. But 215 children’s deaths over the 88 years of the Kamloops operation with as many as 500 kids in residence at a time when the First Nations were suffering greatly from Tuberculosis is likely close to the normal mortality rate for those unfortunate times. That works out to approximately 2.5 children per year from amongst 500 annually enrolled, underprivileged, unhealthy children. By my poor math that is .5% per year. Coincidentally, the Canadian child mortality rate in 2019 was 4.9 deaths per 1000 children or .5%.

Yes, I know that we can lament and grieve the situation they suffered and that we should. Those kids died separated from their families and were discarded heartlessly. Many of those that survived described the schools as cruel, inhumane and they clearly did not achieve what was intended, namely assimilating, educating and training the students in becoming ‘white’. Residential schools were a mistake.

But even the coldest, cruelest and stupidest of the staff, even the pedophiles (if there were), even the bullies and creeps were NOT waging genocide. They were up to all sorts of no good and definitely not enough do-good but they were not engaged in genocide.

Sometimes (most times) this nonsense of handwringing, self-flagellation and exaggerated, misplaced apologies over every perceived wrong done in the past is, at best, a dramatic self-serving (politically) apology of sorts. Sometimes it is merely stating an ugly fact about what our ancestors perpetrated in their ignorance. And maybe that is a necessary component of reconciliation. But, not only is it not working, it is making matters worse. If Trudeau admits to someone else’s genocide, then that is tantamount to pleading guilty to murder on a grand scale on behalf of someone long dead. Trudeau is accepting guilt for something he wasn’t even around for and those that were are no longer alive to defend themselves. Not in any way.

A.E Ryerson is considered the ‘father’ of modern education in Ontario and that included the concept and creation of the Residential schools. That his mission failed is fact. But, so far, that seems to be the only fact that I can discern. He did not have a mandate for genocide, he had a mandate for education. He was also a strict Methodist preacher born in 1803 to a well-off family in Ontario and was very likely not so-very-much understanding of the First Nations due to his somewhat removed and privileged place in society and politics. We have had more than our share of those kind of out-of-touch politicians. I probably would be disinclined to like A.E. Ryerson but his life history is not one of murder and cruelty.

Trudeau assuming Ryerson’s guilt (and J.A. McDonald’s) is stupid in itself but, of course, the modern politician also assumes to distribute compensation to the victim’s ancestors. Trudeau will provide money from the taxpayer, not his own pocket (how sincere and heartfelt can that be?). How does giving millions of dollars today make any sense in this matter anyway? Some 35 year old can now get an F-150 to make up for the long lost cousin who died 100 years ago in a Residential school from TB? Maybe, just maybe, some compensation might be justified for any ex-student still alive. Maybe. Sometimes, however, a mistake is just a mistake and it was unfortunate and we should all just do better now that we know better. FULL STOP.

I wouldn’t make this rant if the so-called compensation and acts of contrition weren’t clearly having the opposite effect of the intention. First Nations do not accept all the money and apologies and then say, “Oh, gee. Thanks for the moolah. Let’s be friends now.”

Of course not. They do what most people would do, they say, “Hey, you owe me even more money than that last amount. We found more evidence of wrong doing by your ancestors hundreds of years ago and now we want even more money, more apologies and more concessions.” In other words, we are perpetuating the mistake by feeding into ridiculous expectation that also DO NOT HELP the people, First Nations or General Population. This current policy of buying forgiveness is really just a separation pathway that leads to more conflict.

Put another way: I do not blame a young German for Hitler. How can anyone? My father was so shot up in the second world war that he had a 100% disability pension. Our family lives were made very difficult as a result of his war injuries. Should I sue Germany? Does Merkel owe me an apology? I think it is time to ease up on the mea culpa craze, don’t you?

We made a nice workshop a few years ago. It is good. But then I filled it up. And that, too, was good because I prefer to ‘work’ outside anyway and being cooped up in a little building does not appeal to me very much. That semi-claustrophobic quirk of mine was also okay in the circumstance because I had also built a nice, large work deck alongside the workshop on which the tools would be used — only a few feet away from their normal resting place. Workshop plus deck makes for a good workspace. Level, open workspace is good (especially if you live on a 30 degree slope).

But man is man and if one tool is good, then two tools are better and, after awhile, that maxim changes to: If twenty tools are good, forty tools are better. And so it goes. I now have more tools than I have space – inside and out! For the last few years I have had to place my bigger tools outside on the workspace deck….the ‘work’ deck now accommodates the bandsaw, planer, table saw, chop saw, a 2800 watt and a 5500 watt generator. I have those six, good-sized tools outside and at least four more good-sized tools (sand-blaster, air compressor, welder, alcohol-producing still) that are still making the workshop feel crowded inside. I really need to have more room to store more tools and none of them on the workspace deck because the workspace deck is supposed to be for the actual working!

“Hey, Sal…? Got a few days?”

“If it means more construction work then the answer is NO!”

So, the other day I started to build a deck extension and a smaller shed for the bigger-tools by myself.

After the first day, I said, “Hey, Sal, got a minute to hold one end of the tape?”

Sal came to watch at first and then . . . lend a hand with the tape. And then . . . and then, well . . . we have been building the new ‘space’ together every day since (except for book club and Sal’s sewing class at the school). Whatta team! One thing is very clear: we are an older and slower team and, despite our experience, we are no better than we have ever been – which is to say, barely adequate.

In keeping with being adequate (in a Green way) we are recycling some old wood. As most readers know, getting in supplies is one of the frequent and always larger challenges of living OTG. Getting in the wood means so much more out here. Firstly, one has to get in the firewood by salvaging logs and doing what one does to eventually get warmed by them. Secondly, one has to get in any needed lumber and fasteners so as to build things and things always need building it seems. Thirdly, one has to pay barge services and lumber yard delivery fees for remote island deliveries and so it is almost double the cost when prices are normal. And prices aren’t normal in the lumber business right now. The cost of materials has tripled in some cases and doubled across the board.

OTG’ers (generally speaking) are also kind of inclined to salvage and re-use and ‘make-do’. Yes, part of that is the result of reduced income but a large part is also that the ‘old board’ under the house with 3/4 of it’s life still available is a lot easier to access than by way of the nice Building supply-lumber-town-delivery-barge process. If the old board will still do the job, we re-use it. Old boards can increase in perceived value, too (especially as old men diminish in their own time) . . . the board does not have to make the 30 year rule anymore.

And I have some old boards. Over the years – when I rebuild a deck or a set of stairs or something – I save what might be used again in a pile of mismatched lengths, widths and uneven thicknesses. I have a mix of old store-bought two-by boards (1&5/8″ thickness) and also some locally-milled old boards (varying to almost 2″ in thickness but usually around 1&3/4″). I keep anything over 14″ in length because ‘blocking’ between rafters, joists and walls requires that. Actually, I am on 24″ centres this time so the minimum length to save is 22.5″ ….but you get the principle.

So, I run the old boards through the planer and square new ends. This allows me to see how much rot or ‘bad wood’ is in the board. It’s really quite interesting. Most of the old 17 year-old, rough-cut, locally-milled wood is even better than new store-bought! An old board 7 feet long will still span six feet (I have joists on two-foot centres for the shed floor) and so I can cut it to the right length and examine the ‘core’ from both ends. Surface planing it a bit also gives me another look at it and helps bring all the different thicknesses closer to one another. I am making the shed floor with reclaimed boards. Yes, I am oiling them. That is saving me well over $500.00 not counting the time, the purchase, taxes, delivery and the barge. Given that the average shed of this size (not counting the stairs to the ground and underside, deck extension, railings, workbench and Cedar siding) costs ‘on average nationally’ around $5,000 (more like $8,000 today) to build (more than my car cost) and that my final tally will be around $2,000, utilizing reclaimed wood went a long way to reducing the cost.

And oiled, old boards-for-flooring looks pretty funky and is perfectly adequate for a storage shed.

Part Two will follow eventually but that requires more wood. I need about 100 square feet more of treated 2×6 to finish up plus some 80 sft of tin roofing. But, like everything we do, it will get done. Key word: eventually.

I have a couple o’ blogs in the pipe but the points of them have not yet been realized so they await the proper unfolding of the universe before posting. And, here’s a plot-twist, we may also have found Sal’s next boat….so the potential news feed (still in the pipe) is full but just basically on hold.

So, for filler: Politics!! Woohoo!!

As all seven readers know, I am a Greenie. And, coming from my own basic morals, principles and values, I am also a bit of a lefty, often referred to as a Pinko. So, I am a Pinko Greenie.

But I quit the Green party of Canada and BC about a year ago…kinda…I stopped giving them donations and let my membership lapse. Many months ago the party was doing what they always do (soliciting for money but not advice, input or direction) and I stopped giving because, to my mind, they were too small-minded, did too little and acted too much like a spoiled-brat clique of high school kids. Worse, they seemed to have lost their main focus – saving the planet – and instead seemed preoccupied with racism, feminism and politically-correct nonsense like the ongoing Israeli Palestinian conflict.

Do not MISINTERPRET that last sentence. Racism is bad. Feminism is good and Jews and Arabs are complicated. I know all that. But, to my mind, climate change and planet destruction is immensely more important than the latest First World issues-of-the-day. More to the point, the Green Party of Canada has very little (if any) clout or credibility in any area of the greater political dialogue and, if they have any, it is only on issues of the environment.

I have been disenchanted with the party for a long time for all those reasons and more. But, to be fair, if you are going to complain, you have to be able (willing, anyway) to run for office and make things better. Complaining is not the same thing as doing. So, I decided to throw my hat in the ring and try to do better. I was gonna run for the North Island (and I was gonna refuse a salary and a pension in the unlikely event that I won). I submitted my application. And I got a call……

The Greenie I spoke to was very pleasant and laughed at my jokes (one of my main criteria for judging people). But my Greenie was also honest and told me in NOT-so-many words that the party was really looking for, ideally, Indigenous women or, at the very least women of colour. If I was LGBQT+ that might work, too…….but, like, an older, straight, white guy? Really?

Again, to that Greenie’s credit, they went through with the interview and thought that my views on the big topics (environment, climate change, planet, sustainability, alternative energy, etc.) were truly in line with the stated goals of the Green Party but, well, I did not have a hope in hell because they are so focused on other issues (genitals and skin colour).

“If my views align with those of the party, why would the party not align with me? Is it because the party has relinquished their stated and founding principles for more politically correct ones? And, can you explain to me why the party, like the NDP, have adopted a blatant sexist and racist bias by essentially shunning old, white males?”

“Well, we like to think of it as giving a platform to the underprivileged who do not have a voice otherwise.”

“Uhm…….Annamie Paul is black, female, Jewish and a lawyer. She’s the party leader. She has a lot of platforms. Ex-leader, Liz May, is an ex-American, ex-Conservative, lawyer and, of course, female. She has the Order of Canada and is the longest running female leader of a Canadian political party. She, too, has platforms. Don’t you think there is room in the party for an old, fat, white guy who has only a blog? I mean…if a party is to represent the people, don’t old, white males count as people anymore?”

I decided to reread the Green Party of Canada’s Constitution and it’s current political platform. I noted that the party was started in 1983 by a white, male physician who was conventionally married and had children to go along with a lengthy resume of real accomplishments in community, health and politics. Seems Dr. Hancock was OK then….but would not be OK now. The Greens would not allow Hancock to run today.

I mention all this because we should try to remember that political parties, for all their vaunted philosophies, ideals and propaganda are still current collections of limited-view people who are more oriented in the past than they are to the future. They are as fallible as any of us. They carry biases and prejudices. They are often ignorant of the issues facing the common citizen simply because they are so often ‘professionals’ and NOT poor, sick, marginalized or alone. And too many are lawyers (not that there is anything wrong that). Maybe a few plumbers, cleaners, waitresses and lumberjacks might help?

To my mind, the Greens have gone off the rails. Well intentioned, perhaps. But still dumber than dirt. I cannot vote for them anymore – at least not in their present form. As the earth currently burns at record heat levels in the US Midwest, loses it’s temperature regulating ice mass and razes the forests of oxygen-producing trees while filling the seas with plastic, the one voice for survival of the species (Greens) have lost their way.

Rocks mostly. I sculpted (carved) some wood, too, but it was lava-rock, soapstone and marble that I did mostly. And I was almost good at it. I really liked it. I may still do…?

I used to race motorcycles, play sports and paint in acrylics and oils, too, but I was only semi-good at sculpting and, to be fair, mediocre is the better description. Adequate, perhaps? I just liked sculpting more than anything else and passion really is the primary muse.

I could just look at a rock and see something deep within it that was obviously needing just a little help to get out. It was usually pretty obvious to me. “There is a sea lion in there!” In fact, it was just a lump of rock but, like watching clouds and daydreaming, one can see all sorts of things in blobs. And I did.

I haven’t sculpted in almost 35 years and, even then, that last piece came about fifteen years after the previous one. I have not really done much of anything in over 50 years. Claiming the ability to sculpt is now a spurious, false, weak-at-best, fantasy-at-worst falsehood. I am a sad, sculpting fraud. But I might also be an aspiring sculpting fraud. I am thinking about whacking at a few rocks again.

I say ‘fraud’ not because of false claims but primarily because I have the guilty proof of being a poseur right in front of me. I still have a half a dozen large soapstone and marble ‘blobs’ in the workshop and have had them for even longer than I have had the workshop. Seems I am clinging to my rocks (there’s a phrase, eh?). Maybe I am clinging to my past? I am definitely clinging to something……heavy and hard to move………

It is time to sculpt or get off the rock! So, yesterday, I started. A bit. I got out a blob of marble and looked at it and looked at it. You know what I saw? I saw a blob of marble. No sea lions. No nothing. When that ‘blankness’ comes, it is a good idea to just start whacking. Maybe the ‘vision’ is a little deeper in there, ya know? So, I got out the grinder and started to attack the marble. It turns out I have two pieces of marble on the same scale of hardness as diamonds. Two grinder disks later, I have an almost perfectly intact blob.

The marble may be too hard. I do not have enough cutting discs at this rate. I have a small boulder of Onyx, too. It is definitely too hard – the discs barely scratch it. It seems half my inventory (about two hundred pounds or so) is too hard to work with but I had carried them all around for a long time before just learning that. And that now presents as a bit of a challenge for me (not quite as motivating as a passionate muse but still a push of sorts). I am gonna keep whacking, fer sure, but I have also sent away for a few more stone-whacking tools. No, I am not persistent, persevering or passionate………

….stupid shows up a bit differently for me.

PS. If sculping art pieces does not come to any kind of aesthetically pleasing fruition, knowing how to split granite is a close second of achievement for me. I have a lot of protruding rocks on the site and some kind of get in the way at times. I may be able to ‘whack off’ a few sticky-out parts. That would be good. I tried doing that today, too. And it is amazing what kind of rubble one can make with a stone chisel. Uncontrolled, unskilled, pointless rubble but still, I made some beautiful rubble!

Maybe I should stick to rubble-making?

Most dinner parties are interesting but some, of course, are more interesting than others. We attended a lovely dinner the other night and it was very, very interesting. To be fair, the hostess had an edge on the hospitality challenge. No one had been to a dinner party in over a year. Isolation can lubricate comradery.

This event got ‘interest’ points right from the start because we had all forgotten how to have polite-but-fun discourse with others. One has to exercise their inner Oscar Wilde to stay hip, you know? This dinner-party experience felt kinda new. I was rusty*. He and she got extra points for good food that we didn’t have to cook, too. And, for me, super bonus points were immediately earned because I did not have to do the dishes. Add in good wine and great company and it was a fabulous evening.

(*Rust seems to be forming in my ears. My hearing is 50% what it used to be.)

But all that, as interesting as it was, paled against the beautiful presence of their new home on the island. It was just perfect. I would estimate that the square footage was around 2000-2200 sft. Two stories. Fabulous views through huge windows. Perfect location. Lovely setting. And all brand, spanking new.

The construction style was also perfect. Local ‘look’, exposed beams from wood milled on site, funky touches here and there and an artsy-crafty eccentric kitchen ‘decor’. R&B not only did a great job they also manifested great taste and personal style. It really is a huge success.

But I am not here to write an article for Better Homes and Cottages (theirs definitely qualifies). I am here to write about deeper issues. And this issue is about timing, undertakings, personal commitment and effort. This blog is about, learning, growing, stretching yourself. This topic is about change, transition, retirement, community and taking a risk. They did all that, too. And they started in their 50’s.

As we stood there surveying their ’empire’ (a mix of new, beautiful buildings, with saved and reinforced ‘heritage’ buildings from the past), B said, “You were right. Building is hard work. I do not think I could do that again.”

B was an accountant. R was an engineer. They knew how to work. They knew physical, being avid skiers. They were in good nick, healthy, strong, capable. Three or four years in the doing and maybe one year living in the completed home, B said, “I still feel stiff and sore getting out of bed.”

Sal said that same sort of thing 14 years ago, “It has been over eighteen months since we completed the house and my hands still hurt!”

R&B are now nudging 60. They did their ‘building thing’ in their fifties. Like Sal and I. And like Sal and I, they went from being ‘softer’ to working physically much, much harder than they imagined. They went from urban comforts and conveniences to learning how to make it all work even if that meant jerry-rigging up water systems to get a shower. They reminisced about lifting heavy beams, pouring cement, clearing away garbage, finishing the interior and, of course, milling their own lumber. These two did the OTG thing and they did it very well.

Of course we traded a few old saws about, “I do not think I could ever go back to living in the city.” “Our urban friends don’t really understand this move.” “Don’t ya just hate town day!” We shared marveling at the natural beauty every day. We laughed about the eccentric community that we had all joined. And we shared plans for more improvements to the empire. Their project definitely isn’t over.

Our project isn’t over yet, either. We still have things to do. And we have things that need fixing, maintaining and replacing. First you get the empire and then you have to keep the empire. OTG work is never done.

So, what is the point, Dave? R&B are NOT the generation behind us. We are just at the older end of the same generation. But, still, it felt a bit like watching renewal to me. Kindred spirits. It felt a bit like seeing the next generation even if they are technically NOT next gen. There was a lot of empathy for each other despite being relatively recent friends. I had walked in their boots. They had walked in mine. And all of our feet still ached.

…….sheesh. Our (new/old) vehicle wouldn’t start yesterday. Dead battery when Sal checked it after yoga. So, we boated up in the afternoon to where we park it on the island, got it going, and took the battery to charge. I’ll add a small solar panel to keep it trickled up. As WdeG pointed out, NOT running an engine routinely invites problems and so we really have to get in the habit of at least turning the little van on now and again.

Dinner parties and social events are looming once again. The island is coming alive. We have one to go to and one to give. Actually, more than a few to give (but I will resist doing so for now). The oppressive Covid mood is lifting, Spring has sprung and summer looms — it is ‘in the air’. People seem a bit more relaxed. Sunshine helps. The dropping C-19 case count helps more. Only seven cases in the North (Vancouver) Island area.

The bureaucracy screwed up again, though. It feels bad but the truth is we are largely exempt from their stupidity as a rule. It is just that, when it does intrude, it is always really stupid. But that is to be expected and so we will roll with the punches and carry on bravely.

We had a Covid clinic here on our island a few weeks ago. Very well attended. Everything went smoothly. All good. We expected clinic #2 to be even better but, of course, an out-of-touch urban bureaucrat threw a wrench in and now we will NOT get a second clinic here. Instead, the vacs will be given up at the luxurious, swanky, Senora Lodge. So, instead of a few employees coming down from the lodge, 100 or so residents (including a LOT of seniors) will have to go up to the lodge. Distance is a half hour to forty minute boat ride both ways.

Our Covid Coordinator pointed out to the bureaucrats that not all the old folks are well enough to travel that far and further, the Lodge is in somewhat unfamiliar waters with dangerous currents. This change was going to put old folks, one recently out of hospital, in small tin boats for no good reason. The location change puts half a dozen others who are seriously ill or not very mobile at much greater risk. If the weather is bad and wet, you can triple that number.

So, the Ministry dorks offered to water-taxi all the folks up to the lodge. That little gesture will cost the taxpayer thousands (I am guessing between five and ten thousand unnecessary dollars). It will also make it a very long day for many of our folks. The good news? The lodge has better wi-fi and possibly marble toilets. The nurses will feel better. Poor babies.

Census Canada sent out forms to the general public. But not to us. It seems there is a possible fine if one doesn’t comply with filling in the census. A few folks freaked. The census dorks sent a dozen forms to the post office addressed to no-one at a non-existent address. You really have to wonder.

The prawn season is still on. But it’s also a weird season. Firstly, most of the commercial guys left ’cause they weren’t getting good numbers around here. But one guy stayed and he is dropping tons of traps so I guess he is getting his catch. The locals (and 50% are local but from quite far away on other islands) are here and they seem to be doing okay. Not great. The extra-interesting thing for me is that the numbers are not boffo but the actual prawns, themselves, are pretty big! I saw one ten pound haul and every one was as big as I have ever seen out here. So, we may have fewer but they are bigger.

Sal and I got twenty five pounds a month ago and froze ’em. That’s enough for us for a year.

Haven’t seen a whale in a year (it seems). Nothing. Nada. A few dolphins, a couple of porpoises, a sealion. Very few whale watching boats, of course. It seems the wildlife counts are down. At least we’re seeing more sea stars – they made a recovery. Oddly, it is the purple stars that have bounced back best.

The weather is also a bit ‘off’. Hot as hell a few days ago. Almost 30C. Back to normal tomorrow and lasting a week, they say. Our water is still running – so that is good.

Both boats are now running well. Vehicles doing well. Small engines doing well. Everything working but still a few ‘chores’ to make it all even better. I may have some time to turn my hand to something more fun…..hmmmm…what might that be….?

For good ol’ Sal, a bit more fun means quilting! And she did a wonderful piece over the last few weeks. One of the girls at the local school did a drawing of an eagle. It’s pretty good.

Sal liked it. So, she took the drawing and made the image into an art quilt. Yesterday, she gave the quilt to the girl. Big surprise! Huge smiles. Everyone happy.

I dunno….I don’t think quilting is my thing…..

….I am gonna have to think on it.

Sal’s little skateboard of a boat has been ‘dead-in-the-water’ for a year – ever since she had her knee surgery. At first it just wouldn’t run right so I took the motor up to the shop and, when I was done, it would not run at all. I put it back on the boat. So, then Sal got on it. She must have stripped the carb down (in situ which is impossible for me) at least four times and each time found something wrong – even got it firing up again – but it was still just back to ‘not running right’.

Enter the dragon in the form of J the outboard mechanic. J whipped everything off as well as the carb and went at it. Got some new parts. Found more ills. Spent four hours at least. Maybe six. “Can’t seem to get it right. It almost feels as if you are towing a ton of bottom growth.”

“Nah, said Sal, I cleaned most of it off. I can reach under. Should be good enough.”

“Well, I’ll continue to think about it but I don’t know what more I can do. Maybe time for another motor?“

Sal is very good with her boat. She knows it well. But she kinda forgot how long it had stayed in the water and, despite her protestations, she cannot reach far enough under the boat. Last week we hauled it up the little marine ways we built. Under her boat was the equivalent of the Sargasso Sea. We scraped off pounds of mussels and barnacles. Her boat looked like a White Portuguese Man-o-War (a huge jellyfish).

We cleaned and painted the bottom over the next few days. Sal was under the boat the whole time. I attended to the top and sides. She was covered in crap, marine creature bits and slime. Then marine bottom paint. Sal was not a happy camper.

We launched it the other night, when the tide was up high enough to get it off the ways, and she gave it a test spin. It went like a scalded cat! Woohoo!!! Sal had a grin as wide as her boat. It was a beautiful sight.

Our ‘funicular’ was acting up. The ‘track’ was catching up the cart. It was all covered in barnacles and crap. It was time to clean and check the tracks (first real effort in 15 years). So, we did. Lo and behold! A bolt had rusted and one track was almost fully disengaged. So, we went at it using my portable grinder (what a great tool) and some pry bars, sledge hammer and such. A few hours later and the track was fixed. Much more to do, tho. Got a few seized wheels on the cart, too. We’ll get at that stuff later.

Some buttons wouldn’t work on the upper and lower control panel, others ‘buttoned’ the wrong thing. So, we opened up the black box and started to diagnose which wires did what and which ones led to which buttons and so on. And, consistent with our skills, we got nowhere, despite more than a few hours over several days cleaning connections, replacing switches and some buttons and checking all the wires. Enter dragon #2 in the form of my techie/nerd/engineer/Gyro Gearloose friend, B. B originally programmed the Siemens motor controller (which can only be done in German which he does not speak). The three of us were on several hour-long conference calls. He would instruct me, I would relay to Sal and then back to B. After awhile, thanks to B, we got it working. It would still not ‘button’ right but, with some toggling, I could get it to work well enough. We were happy.

Then, about a week later, I was working the cart up and down the hill and, when unconsciously using the buttons, I discovered that it was all working as it should. The buttoning was all right! Funicular miracle!

A lesson was emerging……...”Try not to touch anything, sweetie…”

Which segues poorly into the government NOT touching………..

Once again the media and the government are either lying to us or they are simply totally out of touch with reality. Inflation is already back. It is back with a bullet. It is not just a possibility (which is the tiny bit of information they are sharing infrequently and on the back pages). It is raging.

Admittedly, it is raging in my world and maybe not so much in someone else’s but my expenses have risen in excess of 20%. Food, fuel and gasoline up at least 15%. Building supplies up as much as 100%. Used boats up 100%. Used cars up 35%. And everything we look at is up. A contractor friend in Vancouver reported that, “Everyone knows lumber has gone up as much as 300% but what they don’t know is that all building supplies have risen with it. We are paying vast amounts more for everything from nails and screws to wire and outlets, from plumbing pipe and faucets to subtrade-supplied cabinets and counters. Building costs also increase as the labour and contractors start to increase their labour cost, too. Lumber may go down but everything will stay more expensive. It’s insane!”

Property OTG was never really cheap but it was a lot less expensive a year ago. That is now changing, too. Properties are snapped up now where before they might linger on the market for as long as two or even three years. There has been a huge up-tick in sales and prices. Of course, that means little to us (we aren’t selling) but the added ‘value’ increases taxes at the very least. So, we’ll pay more one way or the other.

I guess sustainable is no longer fashionable…….