I thought that I’d resolved not to write about the traffic here again, but I can’t help myself. Yesterday afternoon, the wind blew in and with it came the snow. We were all looking outside and thinking that it wasn’t a good sign for the drive home. I made sure that I got out on time to beat the major rush of traffic and thought I was doing well until I hit the gates to the plant. Things got slow after that.
As I made my way across the new overpass to the other side of the highway, things got worse. As I gazed left I saw the big red snake – tail lights being applied repeatedly giving it flashes as of light glancing of its scaled hide. When I looked right it was worse, a stream of white lights filtering down the highway to add to the tail of the snake. And they were moving at a speed that I could have beaten on foot.
I managed to get as far as taking my place in the snake and then moving at a crawl for a hundred or so metres and then came to a complete stop. It had taken me about 30 minutes to make it that far.
TWO HOURS later, we started to move again. Yes, I sat in a line of traffic on that one and only blasted route home for two hours without effectively moving (well other than for the brief moment when we all had to pull onto the shoulder to let an ambulance through).
And of course yesterday was one of those days where I had managed to leave my ipod at home and had to put up with local radio. One channel that I was listening to was supporting International Aids day and so was playing all these depressing songs about that, whilst the other was playing awful crap that at times included Christmas songs. Way to make people want to get out of their cars and shoot someone I tell you!
There’s two hills on the way home from site. You go down the first and up the second. Apparently conditions were so icy on the first of them that trucks were going down all but sideways. So they closed the highway until they could get the sanding trucks out. I’m all for safety, but damn, I sure wish it hadn’t taken 2 hours to sort that mess out. After all, it meant that it only took me three and a half hours for the trip door to door.
And of course there’s that little bit of me that really wanted to experience driving down the icy hill!
Dec 3, 2008
76 Trombones (led the big parade)
Last Saturday night it was time for the annual Christmas Pageant in Fort Mac. Now last year it had been held in the morning and it was about -25C outside, so old scrooge here said “Baa Humbug” and didn’t go near it with a 10 foot pole. There was also that minor thing where I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from comparing it to the Adelaide Pageant. Fair or not, I decided not to put it up to that sort of scrutiny.
This year, it was about -5C outside and at night and so we decided to check it out.
We had a junk food dinner after ringette and then waited in the restaurant until the crowd started to build before making our way outside. We were near the end of the parade route and that meant that it was a good 30-45 minutes before it got as far as us. That was long enough for us all to start feeling the weather, especially the disinterested boys.
But we battled on until finally it arrived. And it was everything that I expected. Kids on trucks with lights and tinsel over them. I guess the best measure of it was the fact that half way through Sam decided he was so cold and it was so boring that he went and sat in the car for the remainder of the parade. The rest of us held out until Santa came by, but probably only just.
That’s probably harsh for what was achieved in a small community, but that’s what I get for being spoiled with the Pageant at home all these years. It was funny talking to the Canadians about how we get into town at 5-6am to reserve a spot, taking lots of sunscreen and floppy hats as we stood in the snow wishing we’d been wearing more layers!
This year, it was about -5C outside and at night and so we decided to check it out.
We had a junk food dinner after ringette and then waited in the restaurant until the crowd started to build before making our way outside. We were near the end of the parade route and that meant that it was a good 30-45 minutes before it got as far as us. That was long enough for us all to start feeling the weather, especially the disinterested boys.
But we battled on until finally it arrived. And it was everything that I expected. Kids on trucks with lights and tinsel over them. I guess the best measure of it was the fact that half way through Sam decided he was so cold and it was so boring that he went and sat in the car for the remainder of the parade. The rest of us held out until Santa came by, but probably only just.
That’s probably harsh for what was achieved in a small community, but that’s what I get for being spoiled with the Pageant at home all these years. It was funny talking to the Canadians about how we get into town at 5-6am to reserve a spot, taking lots of sunscreen and floppy hats as we stood in the snow wishing we’d been wearing more layers!
Whoosh
Winter is here again, which means snow on the ground, shoveling the driveway and the sidewalk, freezing all your bits off and of course skiing!
Last weekend the ski hill opened for the first time for the season and we managed to make sure that we all got a little bit of time in on the one run that was open.
Last year we hired skis and equipment for the kids, but this year, after doing a bit of research and financial reasoning, we bought them skis. Discount sales and the fact that we’ll get two years use out of them actually made it more economic. It was interesting to see the varying levels of excitement at having their very own skis.
Michael was keen to get them, though he intends to do more snow-boarding this year (particularly in Fort Mac, saving the skis for our trip to Kimberly …24 days and counting!)
Sam wasn’t really interested at all, just happy to have hired skis because he didn’t really see himself skiing that much (last year he racked up the ‘most minutes spent in the lodge award)
Tom was keen, but thinking about the snowboarding as well and then of course there was Emily, who practically leapt out of her skin at the prospect.
Following the actual purchase of them, Michael was happy, Sam was reservedly happy (they’d not had bindings in stock for the skis that he’d wanted and so he’d settled for a pair the same as Michael’s) Thomas was over the moon because he has twin tipped skis so that he can go backwards easily and Emily was happy as a pig in the proverbial because her skis are pink and purple with flowers on them!.
Saturday was the day to test them all out, so we picked them up from the sports shop with their bindings newly applied and headed off to the ski hill where we had our photos taken for our season passes and took off down the slopes.
It was a success all round. Michael only managed two runs before having to head off to hockey, but was happy with his skis. To my utter astonishment, Sam elected to continue skiing rather than go to Michael’s hockey, a complete change to where things had ended last year.
Thomas was in his element, off jumps and skiing backwards on his second run for the year and after a up and down (as in fall down, stand up) start on her first run, Emily happily made her way down subsequent runs with only one or two falls. Not bad considering the extra length on her skis this year! And she only fell over at the chair and held the entire lift line up once.
In talking with Sam at the end of the day, he was very happy to say that he hadn’t enjoyed it last year because his boots hadn’t been very comfortable and he didn’t like his skis that much, but that this year in his own boots and on his own skis, he’s enjoying it. Yay!
Bring on the big runs!
Last weekend the ski hill opened for the first time for the season and we managed to make sure that we all got a little bit of time in on the one run that was open.
Last year we hired skis and equipment for the kids, but this year, after doing a bit of research and financial reasoning, we bought them skis. Discount sales and the fact that we’ll get two years use out of them actually made it more economic. It was interesting to see the varying levels of excitement at having their very own skis.
Michael was keen to get them, though he intends to do more snow-boarding this year (particularly in Fort Mac, saving the skis for our trip to Kimberly …24 days and counting!)
Sam wasn’t really interested at all, just happy to have hired skis because he didn’t really see himself skiing that much (last year he racked up the ‘most minutes spent in the lodge award)
Tom was keen, but thinking about the snowboarding as well and then of course there was Emily, who practically leapt out of her skin at the prospect.
Following the actual purchase of them, Michael was happy, Sam was reservedly happy (they’d not had bindings in stock for the skis that he’d wanted and so he’d settled for a pair the same as Michael’s) Thomas was over the moon because he has twin tipped skis so that he can go backwards easily and Emily was happy as a pig in the proverbial because her skis are pink and purple with flowers on them!.
Saturday was the day to test them all out, so we picked them up from the sports shop with their bindings newly applied and headed off to the ski hill where we had our photos taken for our season passes and took off down the slopes.
It was a success all round. Michael only managed two runs before having to head off to hockey, but was happy with his skis. To my utter astonishment, Sam elected to continue skiing rather than go to Michael’s hockey, a complete change to where things had ended last year.
Thomas was in his element, off jumps and skiing backwards on his second run for the year and after a up and down (as in fall down, stand up) start on her first run, Emily happily made her way down subsequent runs with only one or two falls. Not bad considering the extra length on her skis this year! And she only fell over at the chair and held the entire lift line up once.
In talking with Sam at the end of the day, he was very happy to say that he hadn’t enjoyed it last year because his boots hadn’t been very comfortable and he didn’t like his skis that much, but that this year in his own boots and on his own skis, he’s enjoying it. Yay!
Bring on the big runs!
Nov 24, 2008
Nightmares
About two weeks ago, one lovely morning, I woke up at about 4am and thought that I could hear some odd noises. I waited those few requisite moments for the fog to clear from my skull and concentrated a little harder, trying to ascertain whether it was the sort of noise that one drags their arse out of bed for, or ignores and goes back to sleep. With those moments past, it started to sound suspiciously like the TV was on downstairs, which sadly for me fits into the category of arse-dragging worthiness.
So, having committed myself to the trek, I made my way down stairs to find the little pink think snuggled upon the couch with her pillow and blanket quietly and happily watching TV. I asked what was going on and she let me know that she’d had a scary dream. I asked her what it was about, but with a fevered little shake of her head, informed me that it was too scary to talk about.
I opted for not pursuing it further, rather devoting my energy at that time to getting both her and I back into bed.
With that achieved, I slept through until the alarm went off what seemed to be only moments later. But I didn’t forget. Later I pursued the course of questioning that would ascertain the root cause of the nightmare. When pressed I was informed that it was a “Madagascar dream.” That was both surprising and puzzling so I said, “I thought you liked Madagascar.”
“I only want to see the second one, I don’t like the first one,” I was told. I let her know that next time, rather than go down and turn the TV on that she should come and tell me and let me help her that way instead.
The next couple of weeks passed with out incident until the other night, when at 2am I was awoken by small footsteps advancing toward the bed. Warding off the desire to turn them away sight unseen, I allowed the little girl to climb into my bed for a few moments whilst she calmed down. Once again, scary dreams seemed to be the issue and again, it was too scary to talk about.
Of course, welcoming a small child into one’s bed isn’t ever the comfortable and snuggly experience people sometimes make it out to be. It’s more about elbows and cold feet in disconcerting places and how a 3 foot tall little thing can take up 90% of the available bed space. And as a result of that it was only about 5 minutes later that I was escorting her back to her bed and promising that I would lay down with her for a bit, which was a great promise to make until we reached her bed and I realized that that the last two feet of it was occupied by various toys. This left plenty of room for Em to stretch out, but very little for Daddy.
I only lasted another 5-10 minutes and then I abandoned her to resume sleeping. And thus it was that some 10 minutes after I returned to my bed and attempted to douse the activity that had commenced in my brain I once again heard footsteps. I waited patiently to receive the expected guest but was surprised to find that the footsteps retreated. Retreated, yes, but not back to bed; rather down the stairs and yes, once again I heard the incriminating beep that meant the TV was on. Arse dragging time was back again.
Rather than put her back to bed and face that discomfort, or struggle to accommodate her in my own little night time haven, I pulled her quilt and pillow into my room and had her sleep on the floor beside my bed. That way, when she woke me again, at 4 am, things were a little easier to manage.
And again, the following day I worked to find out just what had been so scary. After much resistance, a quiet and timid little voice gave me just two words.
“Lost Doggy.”
I got dragged out of bed and all over the house and unseemly and ridiculous times of the night for a lost dog? We don’t even own a bloody dog, so it was someone else’s lost dog! Total bastardry, that’s what it was.
So, having committed myself to the trek, I made my way down stairs to find the little pink think snuggled upon the couch with her pillow and blanket quietly and happily watching TV. I asked what was going on and she let me know that she’d had a scary dream. I asked her what it was about, but with a fevered little shake of her head, informed me that it was too scary to talk about.
I opted for not pursuing it further, rather devoting my energy at that time to getting both her and I back into bed.
With that achieved, I slept through until the alarm went off what seemed to be only moments later. But I didn’t forget. Later I pursued the course of questioning that would ascertain the root cause of the nightmare. When pressed I was informed that it was a “Madagascar dream.” That was both surprising and puzzling so I said, “I thought you liked Madagascar.”
“I only want to see the second one, I don’t like the first one,” I was told. I let her know that next time, rather than go down and turn the TV on that she should come and tell me and let me help her that way instead.
The next couple of weeks passed with out incident until the other night, when at 2am I was awoken by small footsteps advancing toward the bed. Warding off the desire to turn them away sight unseen, I allowed the little girl to climb into my bed for a few moments whilst she calmed down. Once again, scary dreams seemed to be the issue and again, it was too scary to talk about.
Of course, welcoming a small child into one’s bed isn’t ever the comfortable and snuggly experience people sometimes make it out to be. It’s more about elbows and cold feet in disconcerting places and how a 3 foot tall little thing can take up 90% of the available bed space. And as a result of that it was only about 5 minutes later that I was escorting her back to her bed and promising that I would lay down with her for a bit, which was a great promise to make until we reached her bed and I realized that that the last two feet of it was occupied by various toys. This left plenty of room for Em to stretch out, but very little for Daddy.
I only lasted another 5-10 minutes and then I abandoned her to resume sleeping. And thus it was that some 10 minutes after I returned to my bed and attempted to douse the activity that had commenced in my brain I once again heard footsteps. I waited patiently to receive the expected guest but was surprised to find that the footsteps retreated. Retreated, yes, but not back to bed; rather down the stairs and yes, once again I heard the incriminating beep that meant the TV was on. Arse dragging time was back again.
Rather than put her back to bed and face that discomfort, or struggle to accommodate her in my own little night time haven, I pulled her quilt and pillow into my room and had her sleep on the floor beside my bed. That way, when she woke me again, at 4 am, things were a little easier to manage.
And again, the following day I worked to find out just what had been so scary. After much resistance, a quiet and timid little voice gave me just two words.
“Lost Doggy.”
I got dragged out of bed and all over the house and unseemly and ridiculous times of the night for a lost dog? We don’t even own a bloody dog, so it was someone else’s lost dog! Total bastardry, that’s what it was.
The Sky is Falling
I was driving home from work the other night, staring down the highway, quite relaxed because for once there weren’t any traffic problems. Then I saw what appeared to be a shooting star, but in a trajectory that I’d not seen one before.
On the occasions that I’ve been lucky enough to see them previously, they’ve all had a lateral trajectory, paralleling the horizon. This one was distinctly vertical, headed straight for the earth. It was about half way through it’s 2 second appearance that things got really interesting though. At that point, instead of just fading out, it blossomed into an orange fireball that lit up the sky quite significantly.
It was truly amazing and spectacular. And of course there was no one in the car with me for me to be able to say, “Wow, did you see that!?” It was all over the radio the next day and was seen from all over Alberta, but I couldn’t believe that I’d been lucky enough to witness it myself. I just happened to be on a stretch of the highway that was headed directly toward where it fell. Speculation is that pieces of it actually hit the ground and I have to confess to the most fleeting of thoughts as to whether I was witnessing a plane fall from the sky, but they were quickly dismissed.
What I saw appeared to fade from the bloom well above the horizon, certainly more so than this shot, captured on a police car's camera.
On the occasions that I’ve been lucky enough to see them previously, they’ve all had a lateral trajectory, paralleling the horizon. This one was distinctly vertical, headed straight for the earth. It was about half way through it’s 2 second appearance that things got really interesting though. At that point, instead of just fading out, it blossomed into an orange fireball that lit up the sky quite significantly.
It was truly amazing and spectacular. And of course there was no one in the car with me for me to be able to say, “Wow, did you see that!?” It was all over the radio the next day and was seen from all over Alberta, but I couldn’t believe that I’d been lucky enough to witness it myself. I just happened to be on a stretch of the highway that was headed directly toward where it fell. Speculation is that pieces of it actually hit the ground and I have to confess to the most fleeting of thoughts as to whether I was witnessing a plane fall from the sky, but they were quickly dismissed.
What I saw appeared to fade from the bloom well above the horizon, certainly more so than this shot, captured on a police car's camera.
Nov 18, 2008
Let the Carnage begin ... or traffic, part um,. what 62 now?
Winter is here and along with winter comes driving in the snow. Fun. Well, it can be. But it can also be a right bastard. This morning was just a reminder of that, though fortunately I wasn’t the object of the lesson.
Since I arrived here last year, I know that I’ve complained almost constantly about the traffic in this single-highwayed town. Well over the last 12 months, with the boom in work up here and the increasing number of projects under development, nothing has happened to ease that pain. The 30km trip is almost guaranteed to take a minimum of 1 hour if you manage to leave the office by 5:10pm. Any later than that and it just gets worse and worse. There are bypasses and over passes and things planned and under construction that will probably make a significant difference … about the time that we manage to get out of here.
This morning, after some snow overnight, someone managed to find the going a little bit more treacherous than usual and came unstuck; overturned in the ditch. Of course, they happened to pick a day when I’d had to stop for gas and so wasn’t as early as I might have been (not that it would have made too much of a difference). It meant that traffic banked up. And when it takes you an hour and 40 minutes to travel the 30kms from your door to the office, you really do wonder why the hell you bother.
And having managed to finally get past the pinch point on the road that was the accident scene, I’d only managed to go another 5kms before there was a second vehicle rolled over in the ditch (this time on the far side of the divided highway as opposed to in the ditch separating the roads. Truly the first day of the winter carnage. I’d like to propose that it be the last as well, but with the combination of weather and driver behaviour that we have up here, I just can’t see it happening.
Since I arrived here last year, I know that I’ve complained almost constantly about the traffic in this single-highwayed town. Well over the last 12 months, with the boom in work up here and the increasing number of projects under development, nothing has happened to ease that pain. The 30km trip is almost guaranteed to take a minimum of 1 hour if you manage to leave the office by 5:10pm. Any later than that and it just gets worse and worse. There are bypasses and over passes and things planned and under construction that will probably make a significant difference … about the time that we manage to get out of here.
This morning, after some snow overnight, someone managed to find the going a little bit more treacherous than usual and came unstuck; overturned in the ditch. Of course, they happened to pick a day when I’d had to stop for gas and so wasn’t as early as I might have been (not that it would have made too much of a difference). It meant that traffic banked up. And when it takes you an hour and 40 minutes to travel the 30kms from your door to the office, you really do wonder why the hell you bother.
And having managed to finally get past the pinch point on the road that was the accident scene, I’d only managed to go another 5kms before there was a second vehicle rolled over in the ditch (this time on the far side of the divided highway as opposed to in the ditch separating the roads. Truly the first day of the winter carnage. I’d like to propose that it be the last as well, but with the combination of weather and driver behaviour that we have up here, I just can’t see it happening.
Nov 10, 2008
It's Ba-aack
Yes, it’s November in Fort McMurray and that means that the snow has returned. A couple of days ago we had the first sprinklings of snow that managed to stay on the ground and then last night we received a lovely white blanket thick enough that the grass on the lawn has disappeared and the drive way required the first shoveling of the season.
And of course after reversing out of the driveway this morning to turn and head in the opposite direction, I had that quick little reminder to brake early and allow for the snow as I managed to get the car almost sideways whilst executing the u-turn.
As I left our street to turn onto the more trafficked part of my route to work, I was also quickly reminded of the fact that the nice fluffy white snow quickly turns to icky brown mush when the temperature hovers just over the freezing point and everyone drives all over it.
So it’s really just a matter of looking beyond the dirty brown strip that bisects the pretty picture and pretending that it isn’t there!
And of course after reversing out of the driveway this morning to turn and head in the opposite direction, I had that quick little reminder to brake early and allow for the snow as I managed to get the car almost sideways whilst executing the u-turn.
As I left our street to turn onto the more trafficked part of my route to work, I was also quickly reminded of the fact that the nice fluffy white snow quickly turns to icky brown mush when the temperature hovers just over the freezing point and everyone drives all over it.
So it’s really just a matter of looking beyond the dirty brown strip that bisects the pretty picture and pretending that it isn’t there!
Nov 5, 2008
A thought
Every time that we go through a doorway with no window in it, there’s a chance that there’s going to be someone coming through it the other way. When you’re on the push side of the door, that’s no great drama. The worst that tends to happen is that you push against something that gives way suddenly and stumble forward.
When you’re on the pull side of the door, if someone happens to come through at the same time, you tend to be at risk of a sudden, large, firm object (ie the door) being applied with force to your face. Bring on the dentists.
So here’s the thing. How many toilets have you been to where the door opens outward.
I’m guessing somewhere between none and bugger all. Now think about the use of the room in question. Who’s more likely to be in a hurry and hence be charging through the door with little regard for what’s on the other side? The guy who’s just relieved himself, or the guy who happens to have a bodily function threatening him with public embarrassment if he doesn’t get in there and do something about it RIGHT NOW?
Re-hinge the doors?
When you’re on the pull side of the door, if someone happens to come through at the same time, you tend to be at risk of a sudden, large, firm object (ie the door) being applied with force to your face. Bring on the dentists.
So here’s the thing. How many toilets have you been to where the door opens outward.
I’m guessing somewhere between none and bugger all. Now think about the use of the room in question. Who’s more likely to be in a hurry and hence be charging through the door with little regard for what’s on the other side? The guy who’s just relieved himself, or the guy who happens to have a bodily function threatening him with public embarrassment if he doesn’t get in there and do something about it RIGHT NOW?
Re-hinge the doors?
Oct 28, 2008
Camper Capers
Last week I went to a workshop down in Kananaskis, a gorgeous little place in the Rockies. Because I was off to such a wonderful place, I was of course followed down by a crazy lady who brought four kids along for the ride, never mind the 8 hours or so that it takes to drive there.
By coincidence, we’d also been advised that the camper trailer would be available for collection in Edmonton (just in time for the snow of course) so we planned on picking it up on the way back to Fort Mac.
That was planned for Saturday. So after a couple of drinks with the McColls in Calgary Friday night, we retreated to our hotel and then planned our get away for Saturday. There were a few things on the agenda: Get to Ikea to buy a desk for the basement, get to Costco to bankrupt ourselves and of course get to Morinville to pick up the camper. All of this after the drive from Calgary to Edmonton.
There were some tricky logistics involved. Ikea is on the south side of Edmonton, Costco on the North and the RV place 20 minutes north of that. The biggest hassle was that we really needed the camper first so that we had somewhere to put the desk so that we could transport it. Especially because when we set off from Calgary, the wind was gusting in excess of 100km/hr, giving some of those nice big buses a good 5 degree list as they drove up the highway, shifting sideways a foot or so before being jerked back on course. It was great fun.
We finally came up with a plan at Ikea. They didn’t close until 9pm that night, so we ordered the desk that we wanted, then I dropped Caroline and the kids at Costco and went to get the Camper.
Other than the outrageous cost of the camper repair, all went well and I met them back at Costco where we had to put the camper up enough to squeeze in some of the shopping.
Now at about this time, Old Man Winter decided that it was time to give Dave a reminder of just what it was that he was in for and perhaps a little warning. Because as I made my way around the camper, stuffing stuff in it and trying to get it all back down where it was supposed to be (tricky with a chair in the wrong spot apparently) those 100km/hr wind gusts continued. And as if that ‘Old Man’, bastard that he is decided to have a little chuckle and add a little snow into the mix. And the joy of 100km/hr winds mixed with snow is that it means that it comes at you horizontally, right into your ear hole. So it was no surprise that just as I was finishing, I noticed that the bars that keep the slide out in the right place weren’t where they were supposed to be, so that meant another 10 minutes in the lovely fall weather. At least it stopped snowing.
But I survived and we got under way, went all the way back to Ikea on the other side of town, loaded the desk, grabbed some dinner and set off for Fort McMurray, wind be damned.
It was going to be a late night. Petrol consumption was high (though I did get a shock when I got a complete tank of gas for about $80! Can you remember the last time you got petrol fro 94c per litre?) and it was a bastard of a drive with the wind playing havoc. I was glad that it was just a tent trailer behind me and not a full sized caravan.
I’d had two real bastard drives up highway 63 prior to this one ... once due to heavy rain and the other because of a bloody blizzard that blew through. This one rated right up there with those bastard drives.
And because I’ve bothered writing this much, you know there’s something coming, don’t you? Well yes there is. We were around the half way mark from Edmonton, some 200km short of Fort Mac (which is the start of a 200km, stretch with no services) when something didn’t quite feel right with the car. I slowed down, concerned, but with the way that the wind had been moving the camper around, throwing us sideways, I’d been fighting it all the way and it didn’t really feel any different. So we continued on.
It wasn’t much further though until once again, things didn’t quite feel right. This time I decided that I really should stop and take a look. We weren’t in a great spot. I couldn’t get right off the road and we weren’t that far from the end of a bend ... far from the right place to be stopping. And when I got out and surveyed the trailer, my stomach lurched.
It wasn’t just that we had a flat tyre. It was the fact that we had NO tyre. In fact, not only did we have no tyre, the rim had collapsed as well. It was four letter worded.
Post traumatic analysis tells me that the first time I felt something, the tyre had blown and because the wind was so bad, the fact that I was then driving on the rim didn’t really register ... not until it collapsed and we were rolling on the drum.
At this point in time it was 11:30 pm (strangely reminiscent of the time of night at which i found out that it wasn’t going to go up prior to repair). And we were stranded. We were only 1km from the last point of contact with civilisation that we’d passed and we were 200kms from getting to real civilisation (haha, I just called Fort McMurray real civilisation, how funny am I?) Oh and it was at this point that having jacked up the camper, I realised that although the brace from the car would remove the nuts from the spare tyre, it was the wrong size to get the dead rim off. Oh shit.
Our options were limited: Call the CAA, turn around and drag the bugger back to Wandering River (1km back) or advance to a point where we could abandon the trailer and hope for the best). We called the CAA to discover that we weren’t covered for the trailer and so then faced calling a contract from a hundred k’s away at $250 (if they’d come) or some sort of abandonment.
We moved up the road to where there was an entrance to what we thought was a gas plant so that we could at least get far enough off the road to be a bit safer from the traffic. That was when we realised that we weren’t at the entrance to a gas plant, but to the very last farm house before Fort McMurray. And the lights were on.
So feeling like a depraved character from a b-grade horror movie, I walked up to this middle of the nowhere farm house, wheel brace in my hand to knock on the door. A woman walked out and spotted me and I received an appropriate, extremely cautious look as she went back in the direction that she’d come from. That was when a rather large guy in his boxers came to the door.
All I’d hoped for was a socket that would fit the nut. But he offered to pull on some clothes and bring his truck down for a look. I met him back down at the camper and we attempted to get the rim off, but it was free-wheeling and we couldn’t get enough purchase to turn the nuts. So up to the workshop we went, loaded up the compressor, pulled out the impact wrench and back to the camper. The rim was off in moments. That was when we could see the wire from the tyre that had managed to wrap itself in around the brake drum. That left us in a quandary ... to take it further and risk not getting to Fort Mac (and with no spare) or to abandon it.
At that point, Tim (the farmer) offered to allow us to leave the camper behind and have his brother (who happens to be a heavy vehicle mechanic) take a look at it in the morning. We opted for option, “Sent by an Angel” and took off for Fort McMurray, sans camper.
We did finally get home at about 3am (despite the old man’s attempts, throwing snow and wind at us the entire way).
When I got up at 11am the next day, I called Tim to find out if there was anything that I would need to bring from Fort McMurray to assist. I was informed that it was all fixed. His brother had had it off, checked it out, made a minor repair to the brake and it was waiting for me to come and get it.
So after searching in town for a new rim and tyre, I went for a casual 2 hour drive to get it and tried to give his brother some money for what he’d done (I’d dropped some bills in Tim’s hand the night before). Barry adamantly refused to take my money with a ‘pay it forward’ Karma based attitude ... “some day i’ll be stuck out there and looking for someone to help me,” he simply said.
Another casual 2 hour drive back the other way and both I and the camper were home again.
And so that’s where I pondered what to call this one ... “Why Dave should buy a tent ...”? or “Blessed or Cursed?” Because I have to wonder if the camper and I should never be together, but we were truly incredibly blessed in terms of the location in which this occurred and the assistance that we received.
All I can say is that we’ve been looked after.
By coincidence, we’d also been advised that the camper trailer would be available for collection in Edmonton (just in time for the snow of course) so we planned on picking it up on the way back to Fort Mac.
That was planned for Saturday. So after a couple of drinks with the McColls in Calgary Friday night, we retreated to our hotel and then planned our get away for Saturday. There were a few things on the agenda: Get to Ikea to buy a desk for the basement, get to Costco to bankrupt ourselves and of course get to Morinville to pick up the camper. All of this after the drive from Calgary to Edmonton.
There were some tricky logistics involved. Ikea is on the south side of Edmonton, Costco on the North and the RV place 20 minutes north of that. The biggest hassle was that we really needed the camper first so that we had somewhere to put the desk so that we could transport it. Especially because when we set off from Calgary, the wind was gusting in excess of 100km/hr, giving some of those nice big buses a good 5 degree list as they drove up the highway, shifting sideways a foot or so before being jerked back on course. It was great fun.
We finally came up with a plan at Ikea. They didn’t close until 9pm that night, so we ordered the desk that we wanted, then I dropped Caroline and the kids at Costco and went to get the Camper.
Other than the outrageous cost of the camper repair, all went well and I met them back at Costco where we had to put the camper up enough to squeeze in some of the shopping.
Now at about this time, Old Man Winter decided that it was time to give Dave a reminder of just what it was that he was in for and perhaps a little warning. Because as I made my way around the camper, stuffing stuff in it and trying to get it all back down where it was supposed to be (tricky with a chair in the wrong spot apparently) those 100km/hr wind gusts continued. And as if that ‘Old Man’, bastard that he is decided to have a little chuckle and add a little snow into the mix. And the joy of 100km/hr winds mixed with snow is that it means that it comes at you horizontally, right into your ear hole. So it was no surprise that just as I was finishing, I noticed that the bars that keep the slide out in the right place weren’t where they were supposed to be, so that meant another 10 minutes in the lovely fall weather. At least it stopped snowing.
But I survived and we got under way, went all the way back to Ikea on the other side of town, loaded the desk, grabbed some dinner and set off for Fort McMurray, wind be damned.
It was going to be a late night. Petrol consumption was high (though I did get a shock when I got a complete tank of gas for about $80! Can you remember the last time you got petrol fro 94c per litre?) and it was a bastard of a drive with the wind playing havoc. I was glad that it was just a tent trailer behind me and not a full sized caravan.
I’d had two real bastard drives up highway 63 prior to this one ... once due to heavy rain and the other because of a bloody blizzard that blew through. This one rated right up there with those bastard drives.
And because I’ve bothered writing this much, you know there’s something coming, don’t you? Well yes there is. We were around the half way mark from Edmonton, some 200km short of Fort Mac (which is the start of a 200km, stretch with no services) when something didn’t quite feel right with the car. I slowed down, concerned, but with the way that the wind had been moving the camper around, throwing us sideways, I’d been fighting it all the way and it didn’t really feel any different. So we continued on.
It wasn’t much further though until once again, things didn’t quite feel right. This time I decided that I really should stop and take a look. We weren’t in a great spot. I couldn’t get right off the road and we weren’t that far from the end of a bend ... far from the right place to be stopping. And when I got out and surveyed the trailer, my stomach lurched.
It wasn’t just that we had a flat tyre. It was the fact that we had NO tyre. In fact, not only did we have no tyre, the rim had collapsed as well. It was four letter worded.
Post traumatic analysis tells me that the first time I felt something, the tyre had blown and because the wind was so bad, the fact that I was then driving on the rim didn’t really register ... not until it collapsed and we were rolling on the drum.
At this point in time it was 11:30 pm (strangely reminiscent of the time of night at which i found out that it wasn’t going to go up prior to repair). And we were stranded. We were only 1km from the last point of contact with civilisation that we’d passed and we were 200kms from getting to real civilisation (haha, I just called Fort McMurray real civilisation, how funny am I?) Oh and it was at this point that having jacked up the camper, I realised that although the brace from the car would remove the nuts from the spare tyre, it was the wrong size to get the dead rim off. Oh shit.
Our options were limited: Call the CAA, turn around and drag the bugger back to Wandering River (1km back) or advance to a point where we could abandon the trailer and hope for the best). We called the CAA to discover that we weren’t covered for the trailer and so then faced calling a contract from a hundred k’s away at $250 (if they’d come) or some sort of abandonment.
We moved up the road to where there was an entrance to what we thought was a gas plant so that we could at least get far enough off the road to be a bit safer from the traffic. That was when we realised that we weren’t at the entrance to a gas plant, but to the very last farm house before Fort McMurray. And the lights were on.
So feeling like a depraved character from a b-grade horror movie, I walked up to this middle of the nowhere farm house, wheel brace in my hand to knock on the door. A woman walked out and spotted me and I received an appropriate, extremely cautious look as she went back in the direction that she’d come from. That was when a rather large guy in his boxers came to the door.
All I’d hoped for was a socket that would fit the nut. But he offered to pull on some clothes and bring his truck down for a look. I met him back down at the camper and we attempted to get the rim off, but it was free-wheeling and we couldn’t get enough purchase to turn the nuts. So up to the workshop we went, loaded up the compressor, pulled out the impact wrench and back to the camper. The rim was off in moments. That was when we could see the wire from the tyre that had managed to wrap itself in around the brake drum. That left us in a quandary ... to take it further and risk not getting to Fort Mac (and with no spare) or to abandon it.
At that point, Tim (the farmer) offered to allow us to leave the camper behind and have his brother (who happens to be a heavy vehicle mechanic) take a look at it in the morning. We opted for option, “Sent by an Angel” and took off for Fort McMurray, sans camper.
We did finally get home at about 3am (despite the old man’s attempts, throwing snow and wind at us the entire way).
When I got up at 11am the next day, I called Tim to find out if there was anything that I would need to bring from Fort McMurray to assist. I was informed that it was all fixed. His brother had had it off, checked it out, made a minor repair to the brake and it was waiting for me to come and get it.
So after searching in town for a new rim and tyre, I went for a casual 2 hour drive to get it and tried to give his brother some money for what he’d done (I’d dropped some bills in Tim’s hand the night before). Barry adamantly refused to take my money with a ‘pay it forward’ Karma based attitude ... “some day i’ll be stuck out there and looking for someone to help me,” he simply said.
Another casual 2 hour drive back the other way and both I and the camper were home again.
And so that’s where I pondered what to call this one ... “Why Dave should buy a tent ...”? or “Blessed or Cursed?” Because I have to wonder if the camper and I should never be together, but we were truly incredibly blessed in terms of the location in which this occurred and the assistance that we received.
All I can say is that we’ve been looked after.
Oct 15, 2008
At the Cinema
We went down to Edmonton for the long weekend that just passed (Thanksgiving) with a couple of things on the agenda. First was to get some of our warm stuff (like my winter boots) from the camper (yes, it’s still down there) before it’s too late. There was also the fact that young Thomas had an excessive amount of money burning a hole in his pocket from his birthday, which meant Toys ‘r Us was unavoidable.
There was a potential trip to Costco – wholesale warehouse, where you buy your washing powder in containers big enough for boat people to swap continents and your candy in quantities to employ an army of dentists.
And of course there was the fact that we were staying with the Duells and thus a thanksgiving dinner was in order.
Oh, and perhaps a bit of shopping – after all, one can’t escape Fort Mac and not do a little shopping.
We got away Friday night without drama (always nice) and collapsed in St Albert around 11:30pm with the only disaster being that the DVD player decided not to work in the car on the way there and the only near disaster being a random elk that decided to wander across the road and cause me to go from 100 to 10km/hr in a short space of time. The next day we went to the RV repair shop, retrieved our stuff (and drooled over a few new Jayco vans) before continuing down into Edmonton.
After surviving Toys R Us, (if Thomas walking out with a nerf gun almost as big as he is is surviving) where we met up with Bob and Nancy and their girls for the Costco extravaganza. I must say that the control exercised by Caroline and I was quite remarkable and probably assisted most by the fact that we knew there was bugger all room left in the car after clearing out the camper trailer.
Part of the plan for Sunday had been to send Caroline off shopping whilst I took the four kids to the movies, but by the time that we got around to the movie bit, Caroline decided that she didn’t really want to do anymore shopping and so she’d go to the movies as well.
I think that the last movie that I saw in the cinema was Return of the King. Yes, the third installment of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. It’s been that long. So imagine just how much I’d enjoyed going through the now screening list to find a movie that all four of our children would sit through and at least enjoy a little. Think about how excited I was when the result of the search was, “Beverly Hills Chihuahua.”
But of course with Caroline going as well, Michael quickly seized on the concept of one parent going with him to see something he wanted to see and the other taking everyone else (or at least those that preferred) to see the dog movie. There was the briefest glimmer of hope that I wouldn’t have to be that second parent when Michael was quite firm on wanting to be accompanied by Daddy to the movie. Sadly, so were the other three. And of course majority ruled and I got to see the dog movie.
The funny thing is that when I was taking four of them, I was quite resigned to the fact that I was going to see it. But with an alternate option, a glimmer of hope emerged. A glimmer was quickly smashed against the rocks, reason dispersing it to the furthest reaches of the universe and dog movie it was.
Did I enjoy my first trip back to the cinema. Well, it wasn’t as bad as getting a needle stuck in my eye, but the fact that I had to pay so much to watch that movie …ouch. Now I remember why I love DVD’s and a home projector so much.
After the movie it was time for Thanksgiving dinner. Which in true Aussie style, meant a BBQ and good red wine. But then, thanksgiving isn’t really about turkey anymore than Christmas is (apparently) so we were lucky to get to share it with friends from home and to have escaped Fort Mac for the day. I’ll tell you about the harvest festival in a whole other tirade.
There was a potential trip to Costco – wholesale warehouse, where you buy your washing powder in containers big enough for boat people to swap continents and your candy in quantities to employ an army of dentists.
And of course there was the fact that we were staying with the Duells and thus a thanksgiving dinner was in order.
Oh, and perhaps a bit of shopping – after all, one can’t escape Fort Mac and not do a little shopping.
We got away Friday night without drama (always nice) and collapsed in St Albert around 11:30pm with the only disaster being that the DVD player decided not to work in the car on the way there and the only near disaster being a random elk that decided to wander across the road and cause me to go from 100 to 10km/hr in a short space of time. The next day we went to the RV repair shop, retrieved our stuff (and drooled over a few new Jayco vans) before continuing down into Edmonton.
After surviving Toys R Us, (if Thomas walking out with a nerf gun almost as big as he is is surviving) where we met up with Bob and Nancy and their girls for the Costco extravaganza. I must say that the control exercised by Caroline and I was quite remarkable and probably assisted most by the fact that we knew there was bugger all room left in the car after clearing out the camper trailer.
Part of the plan for Sunday had been to send Caroline off shopping whilst I took the four kids to the movies, but by the time that we got around to the movie bit, Caroline decided that she didn’t really want to do anymore shopping and so she’d go to the movies as well.
I think that the last movie that I saw in the cinema was Return of the King. Yes, the third installment of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. It’s been that long. So imagine just how much I’d enjoyed going through the now screening list to find a movie that all four of our children would sit through and at least enjoy a little. Think about how excited I was when the result of the search was, “Beverly Hills Chihuahua.”
But of course with Caroline going as well, Michael quickly seized on the concept of one parent going with him to see something he wanted to see and the other taking everyone else (or at least those that preferred) to see the dog movie. There was the briefest glimmer of hope that I wouldn’t have to be that second parent when Michael was quite firm on wanting to be accompanied by Daddy to the movie. Sadly, so were the other three. And of course majority ruled and I got to see the dog movie.
The funny thing is that when I was taking four of them, I was quite resigned to the fact that I was going to see it. But with an alternate option, a glimmer of hope emerged. A glimmer was quickly smashed against the rocks, reason dispersing it to the furthest reaches of the universe and dog movie it was.
Did I enjoy my first trip back to the cinema. Well, it wasn’t as bad as getting a needle stuck in my eye, but the fact that I had to pay so much to watch that movie …ouch. Now I remember why I love DVD’s and a home projector so much.
After the movie it was time for Thanksgiving dinner. Which in true Aussie style, meant a BBQ and good red wine. But then, thanksgiving isn’t really about turkey anymore than Christmas is (apparently) so we were lucky to get to share it with friends from home and to have escaped Fort Mac for the day. I’ll tell you about the harvest festival in a whole other tirade.
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