Compare to these old images from around 1966
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Looks like a Young John Lennon
No big deal here..I was looking through my 2009 Reykjavik photos and found this guy in the crowd. He looks amazingly similar to a 1966 or so vintage Lennon.
Maybe his day job is with one of the dozens of Beatles tribute bands.
Compare to these old images from around 1966
Compare to these old images from around 1966
"Logging"....Re-Posted
This year, two of my friends have lost sons in forest industry accidents. I'm going to a service tomorrow for the latest one. Two terrible accidents at two excellent companies. Two young men's lives lost at work.
My dad was a logger and loggers were always at the house or out in the yard. Logging stories and lore filled the air to mix with cigarette smoke and chain saw exhaust. Dirty trucks full of tools, oil and choker cables were the norm. Tables full of booze, full ashtrays and playing cards were standard issue in every house we visited.
I spent only a couple years in the logging business when I was a kid, working for FAB Logging ( Frank, Andy, Bill ) The best job that I had in the bush was driving a log skidder and rigging trees for sky-line logging. I got the job, when no one else volunteered and I was too dumb to say no thanks.
Rigging a tree is when you climb up a tree with belt and spurs to attach steel cables and huge blocks (pulleys) so that the yarding machine can lift the logs clear of the ground. The set up looks just like an industrial version of a clothesline. I would climb and rig two a day. Usually a professional faller would come out a drop the tree when it was done. Sometimes I fell it myself, but it really wasn't something I liked. Then it was my job to pull the gear off the fallen tree and move it all to the next one. When I wasn't busy scampering up trees, then I ran the skidder and pulled logs into the landing for the hydraulic log loader to pick up and sort . For extra fun, every once in a while I had to pull a heavily loaded logging truck up the hill from the landing . These are the only photos I have of those days. The area being logged is in Halfmoon Bay BC and you'll be pleased to know that it is very lush and green today
http://flic.kr/p/9W6nWR ****** CLICK LINK HERE...... for movie of Seven Trailer Log Truck Haul ... in Montana ********
A Loggers Life by Mike Pearson
The legends of the forest,
The workers and machines fading, as the old timers pass and the iron rusts back into the earth. The logging days gone by, as simple as they seem now, were full of life altering dangers and the hovering possibility of going broke at every turn. Those who made fortunes and kingdoms and those who made it, only to have the world take it all back. Those who's fame rose from physical triumph and gut level daring. Loggers and machines turning trees into money.
Stories as big as the men and the trees. Daredevil acts high atop spar trees, or jumping from boom stick to boom stick.
Embellished tales of machines,
Gutless or all powerful
With or with out brakes
runaways and rollovers
steam to diesel
tire sizes and gear ratios
logging truck loads
Jake brakes and truck drivers
Truck drivers
Winding down the mountains steep sides
Whistling a nervous tune
only to turn back up
And enjoy it all over again
All for the love of the roar of the trucks
The trucks
Pacific, Hayes, Kenworth, Mack and Pete
Engines and gearboxes
Size and weight
All fuel for noisy debate
Spilled warm beer
Overflowing ashtrays
Open cans of tobacco
And rolling paper artists
Rolling with one hand
And steering with the other
Wrangling a load to the dump
The dump
Where the entire load is
Pushed, heaved, lifted or carried
onto water, ground or bunks
Sort, cut, bundle, stack
For transport out by truck or waves
In all seasons and all weather
All weather
Rain, light rain,
Heavy rain,
Freezing sideways rain
Stinging rain that drives out the desire to take another step
Roads washing away,
Mountain sides coming down
Trees uprooted and twisted
To snow
A light dusting
On to slippery sliding muck
Too much snow
And the year is over
Come back in the spring
I hope you saved your money
But I know you didn't
You spent it all
We all did
And we'll do it again and count the days
The days
On the mountainside
The sun is out
The sky is blue
A light breeze shuffles through
For a moment everything is perfect
Magical views of tree lined valleys
Serpentine roads winding along
The smell of cut fir logs, red cedar and yellow
Diesel, gear-dope and chain saw gas
Over heated brakes and friction clutches
Stand on a stump and have a good look
The market is great
And they buy every stick
Every payday is Christmas
Every challenge is met
With wits and leverage
and if all else fails then
Dynamite
Dynamite, brute force multiplied. Any problem that can't be fixed with the proper application of dynamite and Amex, is God's way of saying it can't be done. Blasting cap adventures with missing fingers or worse. Packing powder and caps up the hill. Load it just right, not too much, not too little. Oh, but on a really good screw up, really good, legendary like.....The rocks get launched as high and fast as any rocket, high into the afternoon sky. Smaller rocks and dust rushing up behind. Shock waves pushing on the trees. Oh yes, oh yes. That one rock like it had eyes and a brain, searches and adjusts. Then it drops with punishing force on the most valuable piece of man's creation it can find.
A logging truck window
The hood of a Cat D-8
Maybe the yarder
Better yet........ the bull-bucker's truck
That big fella who was in a bad mood this morning, yelling at everyone, for any reason. Somebody forgot their boots, another was late, but that was then and this is now.
The bull-buckers truck is wearing a new granite rock hood ornament, twisted and perforated metal with oozing fluids. The only hope is that he blows a vein in mid-screaming rage. Neck muscles as taut as a steel cable.
Steel cable
Strawline, haulback, mainline, extension, bundle straps and guy lines. If it wasn't for steel cable, nothing in the logging business would ever move.
No way rope is going to do it,
Too much weight
Too much strain
Too much torque
And too much money standing out on those green hills
Jaggers, little broken strands of wire that stab into your skin, through the gloves, pants and shirts. Maybe tear a chunk out of you, or drag you to a nasty beating or worse, in to the machine gears or sheaves.
Sheaves
Blocks, huge steel pulleys that carry and re-direct the the steel cables. Eighty to one hundred pounds, carried on a man's shoulder through the felled and bucked timber. Out a thousand feet, with ten thousand chances to trip.
Up side hills and across ravines
Risking twisted ankles and broken legs
or some other carnage
To deliver a block and a strap to a stump
So that the diesel powered Goliath can start yarding
Yarding
Done by horse, steam and steel monsters, Bigger wood, steeper hills, pulling farther and faster. The logger needs to operate and repair the monstrosities out in the forests, the most robust and productive survive. Only in the the whiskey soaked dreams of the old timers would logs actually fly out of the bush under multi- thousand horse power Skycrane and Chinook helicopters. But from bridled horses to Madill towers, some one still has to go out and set chokers.
Set chokers
Sling beads, the intimate connection between logger and log. Seemingly simple, needing only strength and speed. Wrestling with a twisted steel cable and a metal knock out punch at the end. Set the choker from skyline or winch, make up a bridle if the log is too big. Dig under the log to get the end through, Curling back like an angry rattle snake.
Give the signal
Wave the arm
Blow the horn
And run to get clear
Get hit by a blind and uncaring log and end your time here.
Your time here
Death in logging comes too often
Injuries and bust ups a regular event
Death in the forest is often ugly, messy and slow
Remote locations and steep terrain
Some workers out on their own
Others dance among machines
That can't feel or know that they are crushing the life out
After the service, they all go back out and put on their boots, hard hats and gloves. They climb into the cabs, trucks and boats, they walk the fallen trees and step back into the loggers life
The loggers life
Beautiful mountain views
Clear cold creeks
Rain gear and mosquitoes
Steel cables and hard hats
lung busting side hills
Jumper cables and starting fluid
Rubber tires and steel tracks
Jakes brakes and dynamite
The morning sun
Tug boats and helicopters
And the legends
The biggest and fastest
tallest, toughest
Heaviest, drunkest
Choker holes and left handed wrenches
Soaked from sweat
Soaked from rain
Rock slides and ocean waves
beer and cigarettes
Pick up trucks and tidy tanks
And the names and faces long since gone
Same post...but with logging related YouTube videos is here ..... http://adventuresinmikeslife.blogspot.ca/2011/10/logging.html
My dad was a logger and loggers were always at the house or out in the yard. Logging stories and lore filled the air to mix with cigarette smoke and chain saw exhaust. Dirty trucks full of tools, oil and choker cables were the norm. Tables full of booze, full ashtrays and playing cards were standard issue in every house we visited.
 |
| My dad, Ken Pearson after a days work as a tree faller |
 |
| The entire Jackson Bros falling crew on the back of the photo signed "Dis was loggin' Da boys of 86" Might as well say"Butch Cassidy and the Hole in the Wall Gang" Jorn Skytte, Paul Tingley, Ken Pearson, Tom Hemstalk, Owen Edmonds, Doug Wooten, Neil Mulligan, and Boney Wellburn |
 | ||
| Loggers at the gate, Bob Edwardson, my dad and bull- bucker Art Wayment |
 |
| Tom Hemstalk and Boney Welburn working for Jackson Bros in the 70's. I think the story is that all the fallers had to go up the hill after a big snowfall to recover their chainsaws. Apparently, that was quite the adventure...just getting there..and then trying to find the chainsaws under all the new snow |
 |
| Jackson Bros faller, Owen Edmonds...there's a story there...he shared in a lottery win with Wayne Brackett...having tossed some money his way as Wayne bailed out of the Wakefield Inn to go and buy tickets...Owen's take was 500,000 dollars as far as I know. Poor old Owen blew it all in short order and was on the streets... dumpster diving just a few years later. He died not too many years after his win. |
 |
| Owen Edmonds and Paul Tingley |
 |
| Jackson Bros truck mounted yarder on the hill between Gray Creek and Wilson Creek...in the 70's |
 |
| Paul Tingley |
I spent only a couple years in the logging business when I was a kid, working for FAB Logging ( Frank, Andy, Bill ) The best job that I had in the bush was driving a log skidder and rigging trees for sky-line logging. I got the job, when no one else volunteered and I was too dumb to say no thanks.
Rigging a tree is when you climb up a tree with belt and spurs to attach steel cables and huge blocks (pulleys) so that the yarding machine can lift the logs clear of the ground. The set up looks just like an industrial version of a clothesline. I would climb and rig two a day. Usually a professional faller would come out a drop the tree when it was done. Sometimes I fell it myself, but it really wasn't something I liked. Then it was my job to pull the gear off the fallen tree and move it all to the next one. When I wasn't busy scampering up trees, then I ran the skidder and pulled logs into the landing for the hydraulic log loader to pick up and sort . For extra fun, every once in a while I had to pull a heavily loaded logging truck up the hill from the landing . These are the only photos I have of those days. The area being logged is in Halfmoon Bay BC and you'll be pleased to know that it is very lush and green today
 |
| New tires on the Detroit Diesel powered Mountain Logger |
 |
| Thunderbird mini-tower and log loader, the trees that I rigged on this setting were in the back |
 |
| 1980 or so, Ron Casey in the truck, Wilfred Hansen in the log loader and Wally Smith in the yarder |
 |
| coming down the trail with logs dragging behind |
 |
| LeTourneau diesel/electric drive log skidder at Vic Walter's property in Porpoise Bay BC. |
http://flic.kr/p/9W6nWR ****** CLICK LINK HERE...... for movie of Seven Trailer Log Truck Haul ... in Montana ********
A Loggers Life by Mike Pearson
The legends of the forest,
The workers and machines fading, as the old timers pass and the iron rusts back into the earth. The logging days gone by, as simple as they seem now, were full of life altering dangers and the hovering possibility of going broke at every turn. Those who made fortunes and kingdoms and those who made it, only to have the world take it all back. Those who's fame rose from physical triumph and gut level daring. Loggers and machines turning trees into money.
Stories as big as the men and the trees. Daredevil acts high atop spar trees, or jumping from boom stick to boom stick.
Embellished tales of machines,
Gutless or all powerful
With or with out brakes
runaways and rollovers
steam to diesel
tire sizes and gear ratios
logging truck loads
Jake brakes and truck drivers
Truck drivers
Winding down the mountains steep sides
Whistling a nervous tune
only to turn back up
And enjoy it all over again
All for the love of the roar of the trucks
The trucks
Pacific, Hayes, Kenworth, Mack and Pete
Engines and gearboxes
Size and weight
All fuel for noisy debate
Spilled warm beer
Overflowing ashtrays
Open cans of tobacco
And rolling paper artists
Rolling with one hand
And steering with the other
Wrangling a load to the dump
The dump
Where the entire load is
Pushed, heaved, lifted or carried
onto water, ground or bunks
Sort, cut, bundle, stack
For transport out by truck or waves
In all seasons and all weather
All weather
Rain, light rain,
Heavy rain,
Freezing sideways rain
Stinging rain that drives out the desire to take another step
Roads washing away,
Mountain sides coming down
Trees uprooted and twisted
To snow
A light dusting
On to slippery sliding muck
Too much snow
And the year is over
Come back in the spring
I hope you saved your money
But I know you didn't
You spent it all
We all did
And we'll do it again and count the days
The days
On the mountainside
The sun is out
The sky is blue
A light breeze shuffles through
For a moment everything is perfect
Magical views of tree lined valleys
Serpentine roads winding along
The smell of cut fir logs, red cedar and yellow
Diesel, gear-dope and chain saw gas
Over heated brakes and friction clutches
Stand on a stump and have a good look
The market is great
And they buy every stick
Every payday is Christmas
Every challenge is met
With wits and leverage
and if all else fails then
Dynamite
Dynamite, brute force multiplied. Any problem that can't be fixed with the proper application of dynamite and Amex, is God's way of saying it can't be done. Blasting cap adventures with missing fingers or worse. Packing powder and caps up the hill. Load it just right, not too much, not too little. Oh, but on a really good screw up, really good, legendary like.....The rocks get launched as high and fast as any rocket, high into the afternoon sky. Smaller rocks and dust rushing up behind. Shock waves pushing on the trees. Oh yes, oh yes. That one rock like it had eyes and a brain, searches and adjusts. Then it drops with punishing force on the most valuable piece of man's creation it can find.
A logging truck window
The hood of a Cat D-8
Maybe the yarder
Better yet........ the bull-bucker's truck
That big fella who was in a bad mood this morning, yelling at everyone, for any reason. Somebody forgot their boots, another was late, but that was then and this is now.
The bull-buckers truck is wearing a new granite rock hood ornament, twisted and perforated metal with oozing fluids. The only hope is that he blows a vein in mid-screaming rage. Neck muscles as taut as a steel cable.
Steel cable
Strawline, haulback, mainline, extension, bundle straps and guy lines. If it wasn't for steel cable, nothing in the logging business would ever move.
No way rope is going to do it,
Too much weight
Too much strain
Too much torque
And too much money standing out on those green hills
Jaggers, little broken strands of wire that stab into your skin, through the gloves, pants and shirts. Maybe tear a chunk out of you, or drag you to a nasty beating or worse, in to the machine gears or sheaves.
Sheaves
Blocks, huge steel pulleys that carry and re-direct the the steel cables. Eighty to one hundred pounds, carried on a man's shoulder through the felled and bucked timber. Out a thousand feet, with ten thousand chances to trip.
Up side hills and across ravines
Risking twisted ankles and broken legs
or some other carnage
To deliver a block and a strap to a stump
So that the diesel powered Goliath can start yarding
Yarding
Done by horse, steam and steel monsters, Bigger wood, steeper hills, pulling farther and faster. The logger needs to operate and repair the monstrosities out in the forests, the most robust and productive survive. Only in the the whiskey soaked dreams of the old timers would logs actually fly out of the bush under multi- thousand horse power Skycrane and Chinook helicopters. But from bridled horses to Madill towers, some one still has to go out and set chokers.
Set chokers
Sling beads, the intimate connection between logger and log. Seemingly simple, needing only strength and speed. Wrestling with a twisted steel cable and a metal knock out punch at the end. Set the choker from skyline or winch, make up a bridle if the log is too big. Dig under the log to get the end through, Curling back like an angry rattle snake.
Give the signal
Wave the arm
Blow the horn
And run to get clear
Get hit by a blind and uncaring log and end your time here.
Your time here
Death in logging comes too often
Injuries and bust ups a regular event
Death in the forest is often ugly, messy and slow
Remote locations and steep terrain
Some workers out on their own
Others dance among machines
That can't feel or know that they are crushing the life out
After the service, they all go back out and put on their boots, hard hats and gloves. They climb into the cabs, trucks and boats, they walk the fallen trees and step back into the loggers life
The loggers life
Beautiful mountain views
Clear cold creeks
Rain gear and mosquitoes
Steel cables and hard hats
lung busting side hills
Jumper cables and starting fluid
Rubber tires and steel tracks
Jakes brakes and dynamite
The morning sun
Tug boats and helicopters
And the legends
The biggest and fastest
tallest, toughest
Heaviest, drunkest
Choker holes and left handed wrenches
Soaked from sweat
Soaked from rain
Rock slides and ocean waves
beer and cigarettes
Pick up trucks and tidy tanks
And the names and faces long since gone
Same post...but with logging related YouTube videos is here ..... http://adventuresinmikeslife.blogspot.ca/2011/10/logging.html
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Dad and Son Race-car Crashes
This first video of a son majorly crashing his dad's race-car...was on the news today. It made me think of a much more dramatic crash a few years ago when Mario Andretti crashed his son's race-car while testing at high speed.
Both videos are dramatic...however...watch the huge airtime and countless flips of Mario's car as it comes unglued from the track at 220 mph. Watch Mario in the slo-mo as he flies by the truck on the track ( in the air...upside down )
First... son crashes dad's car..You might have to click the link below the Youtube screen...to go to original news site. Click the arrow...then click the Youtube logo....then go the the small link...and presto magico...a movie.! Update...or maybe the video got pulled...
And then, Dad ( Mario Andretti ) crashes his son's race-car
Both videos are dramatic...however...watch the huge airtime and countless flips of Mario's car as it comes unglued from the track at 220 mph. Watch Mario in the slo-mo as he flies by the truck on the track ( in the air...upside down )
First... son crashes dad's car..You might have to click the link below the Youtube screen...to go to original news site. Click the arrow...then click the Youtube logo....then go the the small link...and presto magico...a movie.! Update...or maybe the video got pulled...
And then, Dad ( Mario Andretti ) crashes his son's race-car
Monday, February 6, 2012
Steven Van Zandt....Who Knew ?
OK...I totally missed the boat on the whole Steven Van Zandt story. But...and it's a big but...I have a great excuse. I don't particularly care for Bruce Springsteen.
Does this make any sense so far?
If it does...then you are a Springsteen follower and rabid fan. If you still don't know what the fuck I'm going on about...then you are in the boat that I was in until about an hour ago.
Do you know the TV show "The Sopranos"? OK fine. Do you know the pompadoured gangster named Silvio Dante in the show?...not to worry...I'll show you some pictures later. That's Steven Van Zandt.
I watched a brand new Netfix produced show tonight featuring Van Zandt as a character looking and sounding very much like Silvio Dante...except this time instead of Jersey....the gangster action is in...( wait for it ) Lillehammer, Norway. ( the show is spelled Lillyhammer )
Some of you are in the loop now...and others are just floating around...waiting for this story to go somewhere.
To the uninitiated, Steven Van Zandt, or "Little Steven" was Bruce Springsteens right hand man...in the days of the E Street Band. He contributed to the familiar guitar riff to "Born to Run". Little Steven plays lead guitar and mandolin with the best of them. He was a boyhood buddy of Bruce Springsteen back in the early Jersey days.He had several bands on his own after that.
The point of this whole trip is ....I had no clue that the jowly, pompadour wearing gangster, was/is a top notch rock and roll icon. I missed that part, totally and completely.
Here are some clips to enlighten people like me, who just didn't know.
Oh....P.S...."Lillyhammer" the gangster show set in Norway...with a lot of Norwegian spoken....is very good...and at times funny. I guess we will have to wait and see if Big Tony ever shows up.
WARNING....scenes of violence and foul language in "Sopranos" clips
Warning to sensitive ears in this next one
Does this make any sense so far?
If it does...then you are a Springsteen follower and rabid fan. If you still don't know what the fuck I'm going on about...then you are in the boat that I was in until about an hour ago.
Do you know the TV show "The Sopranos"? OK fine. Do you know the pompadoured gangster named Silvio Dante in the show?...not to worry...I'll show you some pictures later. That's Steven Van Zandt.
I watched a brand new Netfix produced show tonight featuring Van Zandt as a character looking and sounding very much like Silvio Dante...except this time instead of Jersey....the gangster action is in...( wait for it ) Lillehammer, Norway. ( the show is spelled Lillyhammer )
Some of you are in the loop now...and others are just floating around...waiting for this story to go somewhere.
To the uninitiated, Steven Van Zandt, or "Little Steven" was Bruce Springsteens right hand man...in the days of the E Street Band. He contributed to the familiar guitar riff to "Born to Run". Little Steven plays lead guitar and mandolin with the best of them. He was a boyhood buddy of Bruce Springsteen back in the early Jersey days.He had several bands on his own after that.
The point of this whole trip is ....I had no clue that the jowly, pompadour wearing gangster, was/is a top notch rock and roll icon. I missed that part, totally and completely.
Here are some clips to enlighten people like me, who just didn't know.
Oh....P.S...."Lillyhammer" the gangster show set in Norway...with a lot of Norwegian spoken....is very good...and at times funny. I guess we will have to wait and see if Big Tony ever shows up.
WARNING....scenes of violence and foul language in "Sopranos" clips
Warning to sensitive ears in this next one
Photos From the 2009 Reykjavik Marathon
I have photographed a few races now, and I must say that Iceland had the most supportive and noisy cheering section that I have ever seen...lots of cheers, whistles and cowbells..big smiles...lots of celebration.
There was a much larger crowd at the race than I would have expected for this part of the world. What I didn't realize...is what a popular "trophy" race this is...meaning that "running in Iceland" looks great on your athletic resume.
The weather for the race was chilly, windy mixed in with some intermittent rain. The slog along the seashore, pushing into a cold headwind was tough on everybody.
There were shorter distances to sign up for...so running a full marathon is not a requirement if you want go to this event. There was quite a large contingent of younger kids running at all different levels...probably the highest concentration of younger people at this race, than I have seen before.
Here are a few of the 1000 or so images from race day in Iceland. I'll add more later
I greatly reduced the image file size to make for easier loading to Youtube..This results in a grainy look....High resolution/crystal clear photos are available.
To get a larger screen...click on the Youtube symbol
There was a much larger crowd at the race than I would have expected for this part of the world. What I didn't realize...is what a popular "trophy" race this is...meaning that "running in Iceland" looks great on your athletic resume.
The weather for the race was chilly, windy mixed in with some intermittent rain. The slog along the seashore, pushing into a cold headwind was tough on everybody.
There were shorter distances to sign up for...so running a full marathon is not a requirement if you want go to this event. There was quite a large contingent of younger kids running at all different levels...probably the highest concentration of younger people at this race, than I have seen before.
Here are a few of the 1000 or so images from race day in Iceland. I'll add more later
I greatly reduced the image file size to make for easier loading to Youtube..This results in a grainy look....High resolution/crystal clear photos are available.
To get a larger screen...click on the Youtube symbol
Saturday, February 4, 2012
A Trip to the Doctor...Part Three
Friday, Feb 3/2012
I made the trip once more from Vancouver to the Sunshine Coast. The usual transit bus deposited me at Horseshoe Bay, at the usual time...one hour early.
I wandered over to Troll's for breakfast.
The exact same friend as last time is there.
A Coast guy.
Solid.
Honest and upfront as the day is long.
I feel great.
The breakfast meal is beside the point...the conversation and connection is all.
Talking to a good and well mannered human is so refreshing and life affirming at this point in my life.
We talk until the ferry comes. we part ways at the ticket booth...he to drive on...me to walk on.
On the boat, I assume my usual position...so that I can look at Cut 9 and 10 above me....the old Sea to Sky job....now 4 years past.
I jump on the local bus, on the coast side. Easy trip...recalling past adventures as the bus lurches up the hills and around the old goat trail corners. Langdale to Sechelt...time traveling all the way. I get to Sechelt a bit early..extra time to wander. A bit of a desire to remain invisible...unseen.
Not so different from Ebenzer Scrooge retracing his childhood haunts... but for me...not wanting to disturb what is....what is now.
The Sechelt Medical Clinic...school friend at the reception desk...
Recognition.
No explanation needed...we know who you are...and you are welcome to sit here for a spell.
In the waiting area.
A religious experience.
Who comes out to call in another patient.??
Denis.... Dr. Denis Rogers my old friend.
Said to be retired.
There he is back in the saddle....doing what he was born to do.
Elvis was born to sing.
Jerry Lee was born to play piano.
Dr.Martin Luther King was born to inspire us all.
A country doctor, Dr. Rogers was born to be a kind and caring human being. When you leave his office, you FEEL BETTER....and after all...isn't that the point?
I was escorted to my room to wait.
Denis was not to be be doctor today.
In the room, with the door open...I could hear Denis talking in his distinctive accent.
After his patient blitzed through the eye chart....he proclaimed "You have the eyes of an eagle"
And after the patient gets weighed on the hallway scales. "72 kilos of solid muscle".
I can hear the male patient's voice...inspired and full.
A few simple words from a trustworthy man...have changed another man's world.
I had a different female doc than the last two times. I do not know what happened to my previous healing professional.
It was pretty much a non-event...a second set of tests showed no need for concern.
My visit was quick and not at all personal....but I was elated to know that Denis was back working...and all was well and good with the world because of that.
In the end, it's quite simple.
It's just plain foolish to try and run away from what you were born to do.
My dear Dr. Rogers....what on Earth else would you do with your remaining time...but heal and entertain?
Bless you for being here for us.
I made the trip once more from Vancouver to the Sunshine Coast. The usual transit bus deposited me at Horseshoe Bay, at the usual time...one hour early.
I wandered over to Troll's for breakfast.
The exact same friend as last time is there.
A Coast guy.
Solid.
Honest and upfront as the day is long.
I feel great.
The breakfast meal is beside the point...the conversation and connection is all.
Talking to a good and well mannered human is so refreshing and life affirming at this point in my life.
We talk until the ferry comes. we part ways at the ticket booth...he to drive on...me to walk on.
On the boat, I assume my usual position...so that I can look at Cut 9 and 10 above me....the old Sea to Sky job....now 4 years past.
I jump on the local bus, on the coast side. Easy trip...recalling past adventures as the bus lurches up the hills and around the old goat trail corners. Langdale to Sechelt...time traveling all the way. I get to Sechelt a bit early..extra time to wander. A bit of a desire to remain invisible...unseen.
Not so different from Ebenzer Scrooge retracing his childhood haunts... but for me...not wanting to disturb what is....what is now.
The Sechelt Medical Clinic...school friend at the reception desk...
Recognition.
No explanation needed...we know who you are...and you are welcome to sit here for a spell.
In the waiting area.
A religious experience.
Who comes out to call in another patient.??
Denis.... Dr. Denis Rogers my old friend.
Said to be retired.
There he is back in the saddle....doing what he was born to do.
Elvis was born to sing.
Jerry Lee was born to play piano.
Dr.Martin Luther King was born to inspire us all.
A country doctor, Dr. Rogers was born to be a kind and caring human being. When you leave his office, you FEEL BETTER....and after all...isn't that the point?
I was escorted to my room to wait.
Denis was not to be be doctor today.
In the room, with the door open...I could hear Denis talking in his distinctive accent.
After his patient blitzed through the eye chart....he proclaimed "You have the eyes of an eagle"
And after the patient gets weighed on the hallway scales. "72 kilos of solid muscle".
I can hear the male patient's voice...inspired and full.
A few simple words from a trustworthy man...have changed another man's world.
I had a different female doc than the last two times. I do not know what happened to my previous healing professional.
It was pretty much a non-event...a second set of tests showed no need for concern.
My visit was quick and not at all personal....but I was elated to know that Denis was back working...and all was well and good with the world because of that.
In the end, it's quite simple.
It's just plain foolish to try and run away from what you were born to do.
My dear Dr. Rogers....what on Earth else would you do with your remaining time...but heal and entertain?
Bless you for being here for us.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Trip to Iceland ...Part Three..The Sights Seen
The wonderful couple that we stayed with in Rekjavik made our stay very pleasant and comfortable. We had full use of the fantastically situated home when they made a quick trip to Britain on family business. Other friends of theirs, pitched in to make us feel welcome. We had guided tours of the city's attractions and several delicious lunches at various homes and restaurants.
Truly, without the kindness of these people....that we had not previously known...the trip for me would have been a lot less interesting.
Why? you ask. Well...the general bleakness of the terrain. The chilly/rude reception from some shop keepers. The impossible language. And ....seriously... the hot water in the pipes. With Icelands huge geothermal resources, they heat the houses with piped in hot water...but...they also use this water in the showers and baths.
IT STINKS. Showers are not supposed to smell like rotten eggs. All the Irish Spring soap in the world isn't going to cover up the fact the hot water reeks of sulphur. I just never got over that part. Sorry Iceland....hell of a place...but your shower water stinks.
I'll tell you a few stories in another post. Let's go for a tour.
Video here...click the link http://www.youtube.com/watch?
Truly, without the kindness of these people....that we had not previously known...the trip for me would have been a lot less interesting.
Why? you ask. Well...the general bleakness of the terrain. The chilly/rude reception from some shop keepers. The impossible language. And ....seriously... the hot water in the pipes. With Icelands huge geothermal resources, they heat the houses with piped in hot water...but...they also use this water in the showers and baths.
IT STINKS. Showers are not supposed to smell like rotten eggs. All the Irish Spring soap in the world isn't going to cover up the fact the hot water reeks of sulphur. I just never got over that part. Sorry Iceland....hell of a place...but your shower water stinks.
I'll tell you a few stories in another post. Let's go for a tour.
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| The closest thing that I could find to "Derelict Texture" in Reykjavik...old fishing shacks close to the harbour...and surrounded by new developments. |
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| A picturesque farm....note the partially underground structure in the back |
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| Looking across the bay at downtown |
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| In future photos of the marathon race....the race begins over behind the light brown building with the red roof....and goes by the gray building on the way out of the city center |
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| The modern metal sculpture of a Viking ship in the harbour |
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| One of the observation decks at a geothermal generating station....part of a guided bus tour |
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| Wanna study geological activity in the raw?...Iceland is for you....it's made of relatively young volcanic rock...filled with steam vents and deep fissures....not to mention...real live volcanoes |
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| Iceland has some epic sized waterfalls...this is Gullfoss. I would recommend that you Google this to get the history and modern story. It was bizarre to see the lack of guard rails to keep tourists back from the edge. Look at the outcropping in the middle-left of the pic...no fence or railings. No forgiveness if you go over. |
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| It takes a while for the landscape to register...it's so unlike anything I have seen before |
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| I'm thinking that there is some kind of reasoning on why there is no fence or railing here. Maybe the local court system doesn't allow people who take the risk..to sue for injuries if they get hurt...I don't know...do you know? |
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| This kind of spectacular desolation must have inspired a science fiction tale or two |
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| The trail down to the rock outcropping by the falls |
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| A stop on the bus tour at a collection of geothermal geysers. Factoid..."Geyser" is the name of one of the boiling water steam gushers here...and is one of the only Icelandic words in common use in the rest of the world |
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| Thar she blows!...oooh that was original...I should make a note of that one |
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| Pingvellir....( all Icelandic words look like one big spelling mistake to me ) The North American tectonic plate on the left...and the Eurasian tectonic plate on the right. A truly continental divide. Also home to Iceland's 1000 year old parliament. I would Google that also. I couldn't for the life of me think of why they didn't build a huge stone building here...if they were going to hold meetings here for that long. Apparently it was always tents and temporary shelters |
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| The view from the great divide |
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| Walking between tectonic plates |
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| Remember what I said...Iceland should have been called Greenland |
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| More tourists at the edge |
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| Cruise ships in Reykjavik harbour |
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| Great European look to the city |
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| On the Icelandic highway system during our bus tour |
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| One of the many steam vents in Iceland...if one of these showed up in your town...I'm sure that the more than a few people would go right off their rocker |
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| The divide between continental plates...shot from the bus |
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| ...."Hey Mom and Dad, I'm taking my inheritance from Uncle John ...and I'm going to buy a farm in Iceland" |
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| WTF...a 4x4 Ford Econoline van driving in downtown Reykjavik |
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| Hmmm...I like coffee |
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| Interesting combination of building styles |
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| Sitting on the dock of the bay...looking back at downtown |
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