Normally I don't use the real names of those who drive me. I almost never remember to ask for permission to use their names and so I feel as if I shouldn't. I suspect that most of my drivers never read what I write and neither do any of their friends and so it perhaps would not matter what I say or if I use their name - but still it feels wrong. However in the case of those who drove me to the coast and later from Port Hardy to Duncan I think I will break my rule about using real names.
Rosie was from Britain and Ignacio was from Basque (northern Spain). They were travelling around the world visiting places that were interesting to them. I was never too sure why they came to Canada but certainly one of the reasons was to attend the World Rainbow Gathering. I also never asked how they had met, but they were definitely a couple. Which is to say there were brief moments of friction surrounded by long, long periods of being a great team.
Rosie was charming. She was interesting to talk to, she was funny, really smart, had a beautiful smile and a way that made it seem that she was completely focused on the speaker. She was also a conservative driver who showed flashes of what I suspect were illusions of having been a rally driver in another life. It is not that she drove too slowly but rather she was highly conscious that their car was old and not in the greatest of shape. I suspect that Rosie was naturally a nurturer and that tendency extended to her car.
Ignacio on the other hand was, perhaps in another life, a race car driver. He pushed the car harder than I might have and he was not nearly as worried about strange clunking noises coming from the transmission or various warning lights coming on when we exceeded 120 KM an hour. I felt very comfortable when either of them driving - it was fun to watch their different driving skills . Ignacio and I had a relationship based on arguing ( is any one who knows me surprised?). When we first met we had this whole shtick routine worked out before we really knew each other where he assumed that colonist such as myself were far inferior to those from Europe. Someone over hearing us assumed that we were really angry at each other. We were just goofing around. We had a number of such "arguments" later in out relationship. We also had some great discussions...... about music and about travelling and about people that we knew or at least observed. Ignacio had an almost insatiable need for information and was always asking questions. He was a thinking and a forward looking planner. He loved to make plans but never seemed to care if those plans were changed. He also loved music and he never seemed more alive than when he was playing his guitar around a campfire.
They were a fun couple to travel with which was a good thing as we spent a lot of time in that car of theirs. the drive from Winlaw to the West Coast was long and tiring. For much of that time there were 2 of us in the back seat plus some other stuff. The seat was quite low and the leg room was limited. There were hours and hours ( or at least that is how it felt) of being numb in the rear end and stiff in the knees. It felt as if we made a lot of stops - to get some fresh water at a road side spring, to get gas and something to eat, to get coffee at Tim Hortons etc. Every stop seemed to take too long. We were not efficient or in-a-hurry travellers. It spite of the fact that we wanted to make the last ferry to Salt Spring Island we just couldn't keep the momentum up.
We took highway #3. It might not have been the best engineered road in the world, nor the smoothest but t was the most direct route and we got to see some interesting scenes along the way. In fact it was a great choice of road until we hit Kelowna at around 5:00 on a Friday night. It took us well over an hour to get get through that city. Really tiring.
We finally got to the Tsawwassen Ferry Terminal. We had had the hope that there was a direct ferry to Salt Spring Island at 9:00. We were wrong. It left at 8:30. We had missed it by 20 minutes or so. Our best options was to take the ferry to Victoria, spend the night at the terminal and then catch the first ferry to Salt Spring the next morning.
It was the second time this summer that I have slept at a ferry terminal. While this time I had the tacit approval of the terminal, the lights in the parking lot were so bright that it was hard to sleep.
We got on the ferry the next morning and we were in Salt Spring in time for breakfast. Another trip that was successful in terms of getting there and back again but still it felt unfulfilling in terms of actually have accomplished very much.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Saturday, August 17, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #7
The next morning I slept in a bit and then went out for breakfast. Not the best breakfast -I don't understand why it is so hard to make good home fries -but as I had not eaten much the day before I was glad of anything that filled me up. I was especially glad of the large pot of tea that came with the order
I had called the farm where the Rainbow scouts were staying and they had promised to pick me up if I got to the little town of Winlaw. I, at that time, did not understand that the owners of the farm were just providing a place for the scouts to hang out and that they were not really part of the scouting group. I may of been a bit pushier than I should have been asking for a ride. I never got the chance to apologize but I wish I had. They were good folks at the Farm.
The local bus system worked well. I got to the little town ( which really was just a gas station/grocery store on one side of the highway and a restaurant and health food store on the other) and after about an hours wait got a drive to the farm.To get there we had to go though a bit of a road block.
There had been an oil spill into the Slocan River a few days before and there had been a small forest fall up on the mountain near the farm. There were helicopters buzzing around and lots of conversation as to whether the spill had been deliberate or whether there really was a forest fire that required seven helicopters. There was speculation that the mine that was being developed on the mountain (on a non-seeded bit of land belonging to First Nation) was really the reason for all of the created chaos. Regardless of what was happening, the helicopters did make for interesting watching.
The general tone of the 8-9 people who were there was disappointment or depression. They had been looking for a site for the past 10 days and had been able to find nothing suitable. It was quite clear what was needed - a large meadow the would allow for one circle or 2 concentric circles of 500-800 people, lots of parking, safe drinking water and somewhere that it would be safe to have a fire. it turned out that there was no where in the area that met those requirements.
That night after supper, huddled under a shelter as it was pouring rain, the general discussion was that the International Gathering would not be held in the Kootaney area. It was frustrating for everyone. I had spent 2 days getting here ready to help build the kitchen for this large Gathering. Instead I was going to have to get back to Duncan and wait for a decision as to where it was going to be. I felt as if I had wasted my time and my money. Fortunately just shortly after I had gotten there, a couple had arrived looking for the Gathering. I say fortunately because they were planning on going back to the coast and they offered me a drive at least part of the way back. I had met him on Salt Spring at Sally's and so once again the " Sally connection" had proved very useful.
Early the next morning we packed up our wet tents and loaded 4 adults (another traveller was also coming with us) and one rather extraordinarily well behave dog that he had picked up in South Africa in to a Cutlass station wagon named the White Fox.
It was to be a long and interesting day.
I had called the farm where the Rainbow scouts were staying and they had promised to pick me up if I got to the little town of Winlaw. I, at that time, did not understand that the owners of the farm were just providing a place for the scouts to hang out and that they were not really part of the scouting group. I may of been a bit pushier than I should have been asking for a ride. I never got the chance to apologize but I wish I had. They were good folks at the Farm.
The local bus system worked well. I got to the little town ( which really was just a gas station/grocery store on one side of the highway and a restaurant and health food store on the other) and after about an hours wait got a drive to the farm.To get there we had to go though a bit of a road block.
There had been an oil spill into the Slocan River a few days before and there had been a small forest fall up on the mountain near the farm. There were helicopters buzzing around and lots of conversation as to whether the spill had been deliberate or whether there really was a forest fire that required seven helicopters. There was speculation that the mine that was being developed on the mountain (on a non-seeded bit of land belonging to First Nation) was really the reason for all of the created chaos. Regardless of what was happening, the helicopters did make for interesting watching.
The general tone of the 8-9 people who were there was disappointment or depression. They had been looking for a site for the past 10 days and had been able to find nothing suitable. It was quite clear what was needed - a large meadow the would allow for one circle or 2 concentric circles of 500-800 people, lots of parking, safe drinking water and somewhere that it would be safe to have a fire. it turned out that there was no where in the area that met those requirements.
That night after supper, huddled under a shelter as it was pouring rain, the general discussion was that the International Gathering would not be held in the Kootaney area. It was frustrating for everyone. I had spent 2 days getting here ready to help build the kitchen for this large Gathering. Instead I was going to have to get back to Duncan and wait for a decision as to where it was going to be. I felt as if I had wasted my time and my money. Fortunately just shortly after I had gotten there, a couple had arrived looking for the Gathering. I say fortunately because they were planning on going back to the coast and they offered me a drive at least part of the way back. I had met him on Salt Spring at Sally's and so once again the " Sally connection" had proved very useful.
Early the next morning we packed up our wet tents and loaded 4 adults (another traveller was also coming with us) and one rather extraordinarily well behave dog that he had picked up in South Africa in to a Cutlass station wagon named the White Fox.
It was to be a long and interesting day.
Monday, August 5, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #6
In the last week I have travelled a lot of miles.
For the third time in two weeks I walked on to the ferry to cross over from Vancouver Island to the mainland. I was off to a Rainbow Gathering and I was excited. I was excited in part because it was going to be an international Gathering with people attending from around the world. A few weeks earlier I had attended a Vision Council where we had consensused on a Gathering site somewhere in the Kootenays and now I was off the help with seed camp (seed camp is when some folks arrive earlier so the things can get started. There is a pile of work that needs to be done including digging fire pits and building a kitchen. I go earlier to make things for the kitchen including tables, counters, rails and other things). I had chosen to go by bus to Nelson. I was feeling lazy and did not want the hassle of getting through Vancouver. I think I am getting old......
While in Vancouver I stayed at the International Hostel. It is a nice hostel with tiny rooms but with great bunk beds made out of wood so that they don't shift or creak when the person above you moves around. The hostel is located on Granville Street which is a strange combination of young relatively affluent young people and street people both young and old.There are lots of good restaurants and a few cheap stores including the requisite store selling porn and 25 cent peep shows.The side walks are full of business people and young travellers. It is an interesting place to spend an afternoon.
The next morning I was up by 5:00 AM. I was at the Greyhound Bus Station before 6:00. The bus to Nelson was suppose to leave at 6:30 - it left 20 minutes and continued to run late the rest of the day. I chose to sit in the second row behind the driver for two reasons. One there is a little bit more leg room in the first three rows behind the driver and secondly the driver usually stores his stuff behind him in the first row and therefore there is less chance that someone will lean their seats back and crush my knee. The bad part is that there is a mirror effect in the side window so that one can only see the opposite of the road reflected in the window. it makes all very confusing when looking out the window.
The first bus driver was quite nice but the 2nd one was, while friendly enough was not very flexible about where people could be left off or some of the other rules such as when a lady got on with crutches. As there was already someone in the very front seat cross from the driver, she moved down the bus. At a stop the first lady got off and someone who was large and had some difficulty climbing the stairs sat in that seat - the driver insisted in offering the front seat to the lady with crutches who was seated in her seat half way down the bus. It seemed to be a needless exercise in following the rules.
When we got to Nelson, the bus driver had a hard time finding my pack. It was a bit scary fora few minutes. The hostel was easy to find but it was at the top of a short but steep hill. If I ever open a hostel it will be at the bottom of the hill! Nice hostel, very friendly and lots of people around. I was exhausted and after a walk around town and a bowl of soup I was off to bed.
While I had crossed much of BC, it did not feel very satisfying. I hoped tomorrow would be start of an adventure.
For the third time in two weeks I walked on to the ferry to cross over from Vancouver Island to the mainland. I was off to a Rainbow Gathering and I was excited. I was excited in part because it was going to be an international Gathering with people attending from around the world. A few weeks earlier I had attended a Vision Council where we had consensused on a Gathering site somewhere in the Kootenays and now I was off the help with seed camp (seed camp is when some folks arrive earlier so the things can get started. There is a pile of work that needs to be done including digging fire pits and building a kitchen. I go earlier to make things for the kitchen including tables, counters, rails and other things). I had chosen to go by bus to Nelson. I was feeling lazy and did not want the hassle of getting through Vancouver. I think I am getting old......
While in Vancouver I stayed at the International Hostel. It is a nice hostel with tiny rooms but with great bunk beds made out of wood so that they don't shift or creak when the person above you moves around. The hostel is located on Granville Street which is a strange combination of young relatively affluent young people and street people both young and old.There are lots of good restaurants and a few cheap stores including the requisite store selling porn and 25 cent peep shows.The side walks are full of business people and young travellers. It is an interesting place to spend an afternoon.
The next morning I was up by 5:00 AM. I was at the Greyhound Bus Station before 6:00. The bus to Nelson was suppose to leave at 6:30 - it left 20 minutes and continued to run late the rest of the day. I chose to sit in the second row behind the driver for two reasons. One there is a little bit more leg room in the first three rows behind the driver and secondly the driver usually stores his stuff behind him in the first row and therefore there is less chance that someone will lean their seats back and crush my knee. The bad part is that there is a mirror effect in the side window so that one can only see the opposite of the road reflected in the window. it makes all very confusing when looking out the window.
The first bus driver was quite nice but the 2nd one was, while friendly enough was not very flexible about where people could be left off or some of the other rules such as when a lady got on with crutches. As there was already someone in the very front seat cross from the driver, she moved down the bus. At a stop the first lady got off and someone who was large and had some difficulty climbing the stairs sat in that seat - the driver insisted in offering the front seat to the lady with crutches who was seated in her seat half way down the bus. It seemed to be a needless exercise in following the rules.
When we got to Nelson, the bus driver had a hard time finding my pack. It was a bit scary fora few minutes. The hostel was easy to find but it was at the top of a short but steep hill. If I ever open a hostel it will be at the bottom of the hill! Nice hostel, very friendly and lots of people around. I was exhausted and after a walk around town and a bowl of soup I was off to bed.
While I had crossed much of BC, it did not feel very satisfying. I hoped tomorrow would be start of an adventure.
Saturday, July 27, 2013
On The Road Again 2013 A Brief Intermision #4
I don't do funerals. I don't like them and if I had a choice, I suspect that I would never go to one ever again. I prefer not to grieve in public. It is not that I am embarrassed by my or anyone else's tears - I would just prefer to think about the person in the quietness of a forest or beside a body of water. Sitting in some cold, man-made structure whether it be a funeral home or a church always feels artificial to me. It is not the place I want my last memories of the individuals to be. In spite of all of those feelings, last week I went to a funeral.
It was the funeral for a man I had only met a couple of times and who I hadn't talked to for a few years. We had first met at a Gathering. He, like so many of us, had come to his first Gathering by accident or at least because of a strange set of coincidences. We spent hours and hours debating philosophy, the state of the world and why it was so hard for members of his community to become re-engaged in the culture of the grandparents. We also argued about diet. I as someone who has consciously not eaten meat or fish for some years argued that if I were invited to a meal at his house, I would not eat the salmon, and that if he insisted then he would not be respecting my philosophy/religion. He, of course argued with equal passion that if he offered me some salmon as part of a ceremony, I would be disrespectful to him and his culture if I refused it. There was, of course, no simple resolution to the conversation. I don't think that we expected there to be.
They were great discussions and I treasured the memories of them for years. I suspect that if I had continued to live in BC we would have seen a lot of each other. But I needed to leave to head back to Ontario. As we were saying goodbye he went to his red truck and from behind the seat he pulled out a necklace that he had made and gave it to me. I travel with it - seldom wearing it as it is a bit bright for me. I wore the necklace to the funeral.
I had for years carried in my pack a wide red and gold sash that I had woven. I was never sure why I carried it around....I never wore it. But when he gave me that necklace I knew why I had carried around, why I had brought it to this Gathering. I gave it to my new friend.
The following year I came out in May, rented a truck and drove up to his house 60 miles from Duncan. We spent the day together talking about the Rainbow Family and about the kids in his small community. I think we agreed that we had much to teach other. For the rest of that summer and the next, tentative plans to see each other were made but we never again talked.
The funeral was full of stories from friends and family about the silly things that he had said and done. People also talked about the gifts that he had shared, the songs that he written and his vision of a community made whole. He was a much loved man. I am glad I went to hear those stories.
Today my son and his family took me to a forest near Port Renfew. While much of the forest had been logged decades ago, there were still some cedars left standing that were so old that ancient does not begin to describe their age.
I said good bye to my friend today amongst those grandfathers. I said good bye to him in a grove similar to where we first met. It felt right.
It was the funeral for a man I had only met a couple of times and who I hadn't talked to for a few years. We had first met at a Gathering. He, like so many of us, had come to his first Gathering by accident or at least because of a strange set of coincidences. We spent hours and hours debating philosophy, the state of the world and why it was so hard for members of his community to become re-engaged in the culture of the grandparents. We also argued about diet. I as someone who has consciously not eaten meat or fish for some years argued that if I were invited to a meal at his house, I would not eat the salmon, and that if he insisted then he would not be respecting my philosophy/religion. He, of course argued with equal passion that if he offered me some salmon as part of a ceremony, I would be disrespectful to him and his culture if I refused it. There was, of course, no simple resolution to the conversation. I don't think that we expected there to be.
They were great discussions and I treasured the memories of them for years. I suspect that if I had continued to live in BC we would have seen a lot of each other. But I needed to leave to head back to Ontario. As we were saying goodbye he went to his red truck and from behind the seat he pulled out a necklace that he had made and gave it to me. I travel with it - seldom wearing it as it is a bit bright for me. I wore the necklace to the funeral.
I had for years carried in my pack a wide red and gold sash that I had woven. I was never sure why I carried it around....I never wore it. But when he gave me that necklace I knew why I had carried around, why I had brought it to this Gathering. I gave it to my new friend.
The following year I came out in May, rented a truck and drove up to his house 60 miles from Duncan. We spent the day together talking about the Rainbow Family and about the kids in his small community. I think we agreed that we had much to teach other. For the rest of that summer and the next, tentative plans to see each other were made but we never again talked.
The funeral was full of stories from friends and family about the silly things that he had said and done. People also talked about the gifts that he had shared, the songs that he written and his vision of a community made whole. He was a much loved man. I am glad I went to hear those stories.
Today my son and his family took me to a forest near Port Renfew. While much of the forest had been logged decades ago, there were still some cedars left standing that were so old that ancient does not begin to describe their age.
I said good bye to my friend today amongst those grandfathers. I said good bye to him in a grove similar to where we first met. It felt right.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #5
I am not sure if hitchhiking is a profession, an occupation or a vocation. When I ask other folks who hitch, they do not seem to have thought about it. Yet for me hitching is more than a cheap way of getting from one point to another; it is not just a way of traveling that I use because I cannot afford a car or because I don't have the money to fly or because I can't stand traveling on a bus for any distance. All things being equal it is my preferred way of travelling. It may not be a profession but there are times that I think it could be a vocation.
This year has been unusual because I have done so little hitchhiking. As noted earlier, it only took one ride for me to get from Jasper to Horseshoe Bay. I was therefore looking forward to going to Salt Spring Island in part because traditionally the hitchin' is easy. Everybody does it, or at least that is the popular perception.
However the fact is that hitchhiking has, in the past 10 years, been harder and harder to manage on the island. This may be in part because there are a lot more cars on the road and things are busier. But I think it is because those cars are being driven by people who while wanting to be on SSI because of its traditions of acceptance of various life styles and the sense of being a neighbourhood are not willing to participate in those activities (such as picking up up hitchhikers) to maintain those traditions.
Getting a ride off of almost any ferry has always been a challenge for me. While many hitchers are quite comfortable asking for a ride on a ferry, I am not. All ferries let their passengers off first but generally I can not get to a good (safe) spot until most, if not all of the cars have left the ferry. In a location such as Vesuvius which is almost at the tip of the island, once the ferry traffic has left the area there frequently is little traffic.
This occasion was no different. By the time I had climbed the rather steep but thankfully short hill up from the harbour to a safe spot all of the cars had left the area. I think I had to wait 15 or so minutes before a car did stop and I was offered a drive. It is only a short drive from the harbour to the Country Market Plaza where I need to get off. Perhaps what was most interesting about my driver was the fact that his wife was visiting her family who had a cottage on Stoney Lake which is the nearest lake to Peterborough. I am always surprised at how many people know where Peterborough is. Later that week the owner of the restaurant that I ate in had got his first job after immigrating to Canada at Trent University in Peterborough.
On my way back to the ferry a week later it took three rides and over an hour to complete what should be a 15-20 minute journey. However the last of those rides was a great one as they took me all of the way into Duncan.
The driver was a former Australian. We had a lot in common with each other including the fact that he had been on the dissertation committee of one of my professors at Trent University. Because we had so much time together we had lots of time to talk about the difference in politics between his former country and Canada, gay politics, aboriginal treatment, economics, compulsory voting (it does not work very well), how difficult the job market is for people like him ( he was, I think, quite envious of my position) and the price of gas.
So while hitching is harder on SSI than it use to be, it still works (although I did miss a ferry because it took so long to get a ride) and perhaps most importantly the conversations are still interesting and fun.
However the fact is that hitchhiking has, in the past 10 years, been harder and harder to manage on the island. This may be in part because there are a lot more cars on the road and things are busier. But I think it is because those cars are being driven by people who while wanting to be on SSI because of its traditions of acceptance of various life styles and the sense of being a neighbourhood are not willing to participate in those activities (such as picking up up hitchhikers) to maintain those traditions.
Getting a ride off of almost any ferry has always been a challenge for me. While many hitchers are quite comfortable asking for a ride on a ferry, I am not. All ferries let their passengers off first but generally I can not get to a good (safe) spot until most, if not all of the cars have left the ferry. In a location such as Vesuvius which is almost at the tip of the island, once the ferry traffic has left the area there frequently is little traffic.
This occasion was no different. By the time I had climbed the rather steep but thankfully short hill up from the harbour to a safe spot all of the cars had left the area. I think I had to wait 15 or so minutes before a car did stop and I was offered a drive. It is only a short drive from the harbour to the Country Market Plaza where I need to get off. Perhaps what was most interesting about my driver was the fact that his wife was visiting her family who had a cottage on Stoney Lake which is the nearest lake to Peterborough. I am always surprised at how many people know where Peterborough is. Later that week the owner of the restaurant that I ate in had got his first job after immigrating to Canada at Trent University in Peterborough.
On my way back to the ferry a week later it took three rides and over an hour to complete what should be a 15-20 minute journey. However the last of those rides was a great one as they took me all of the way into Duncan.
The driver was a former Australian. We had a lot in common with each other including the fact that he had been on the dissertation committee of one of my professors at Trent University. Because we had so much time together we had lots of time to talk about the difference in politics between his former country and Canada, gay politics, aboriginal treatment, economics, compulsory voting (it does not work very well), how difficult the job market is for people like him ( he was, I think, quite envious of my position) and the price of gas.
So while hitching is harder on SSI than it use to be, it still works (although I did miss a ferry because it took so long to get a ride) and perhaps most importantly the conversations are still interesting and fun.
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
On the road Again 2013 A Brief Intermission #3/
No matter how closely one follows the news about the train wreck/crash in Lac-Megantic, it is difficult to imagine how absolutely horrendous the past week or so have been. And in the weeks to follow, long after the media have stopped reporting, the challenges will test and exhaust many of the residents' emotional and physical resources.
It was interesting to note how quickly the blame game started. The company that owns the train blames the engineer for not doing his job properly, and a former colleague of the engineer suggests that the company's decision to only have one staff on board may have led to the accident. The government and its various agencies are saying there will be a through investigation of the incident and it causes. They have, of course, promised new and tougher regulation to insure that such an incident never happens again, which would be a bit more believable if this was the first such accident. While all of the points need to be discussed and investigated, I wonder if anyone will ask the real questions.
Are freight trains the right way to transport such dangerous cargo and why? It doesn't really matter if the tracks are going to by-pass small towns (although that would be good interim step) or if by law, there are going to be in the future two or more workers on the train or if an improved and perhaps automatic braking system gets installed. Another accident will happen. While the loss to life and personal property may be less, the environmental carnage might be even greater if an accident happened in a remote area. Again the question is do we need to transport crude oil by train.
There are only three other obvious options. Send it by boat via the Panama Canal, ship it by tanker truck or build more pipelines. The first option is not only too expensive, but people who live along the coastline on both sides of the continent might have legitimate concerns as their environment. Trucking oil is also too expensive and while the spills are smaller, it is equally as dangerous. Which leaves us with pipe lines - which would make some sense except for the fact that their track record is not clear and therefore the risks appear to be fairly high that breaks in the line will occur.
There is another option. It is not a quick fix but it may be the only long term answer. Stop using oil. We live in a large country much of which gets damn cold in the winter. Canada can not be a viable entity if we are all forced to live either on the Gulf Islands or perhaps in the southernmost parts of Ontario or the Praries. The nation can not exist if we live in only isolated communities. So we need to find some way to transport our goods and ourselves and to heat our homes. Not only is oil a limited resource that is not sustainable in the long run, its use will continue to pose an environmental risk.
Perhaps it is a fantasy - but maybe, just maybe the horrible incident at Lac Meganic will be a wake-up call to start thinking of the alternatives to oil.
It was interesting to note how quickly the blame game started. The company that owns the train blames the engineer for not doing his job properly, and a former colleague of the engineer suggests that the company's decision to only have one staff on board may have led to the accident. The government and its various agencies are saying there will be a through investigation of the incident and it causes. They have, of course, promised new and tougher regulation to insure that such an incident never happens again, which would be a bit more believable if this was the first such accident. While all of the points need to be discussed and investigated, I wonder if anyone will ask the real questions.
Are freight trains the right way to transport such dangerous cargo and why? It doesn't really matter if the tracks are going to by-pass small towns (although that would be good interim step) or if by law, there are going to be in the future two or more workers on the train or if an improved and perhaps automatic braking system gets installed. Another accident will happen. While the loss to life and personal property may be less, the environmental carnage might be even greater if an accident happened in a remote area. Again the question is do we need to transport crude oil by train.
There are only three other obvious options. Send it by boat via the Panama Canal, ship it by tanker truck or build more pipelines. The first option is not only too expensive, but people who live along the coastline on both sides of the continent might have legitimate concerns as their environment. Trucking oil is also too expensive and while the spills are smaller, it is equally as dangerous. Which leaves us with pipe lines - which would make some sense except for the fact that their track record is not clear and therefore the risks appear to be fairly high that breaks in the line will occur.
There is another option. It is not a quick fix but it may be the only long term answer. Stop using oil. We live in a large country much of which gets damn cold in the winter. Canada can not be a viable entity if we are all forced to live either on the Gulf Islands or perhaps in the southernmost parts of Ontario or the Praries. The nation can not exist if we live in only isolated communities. So we need to find some way to transport our goods and ourselves and to heat our homes. Not only is oil a limited resource that is not sustainable in the long run, its use will continue to pose an environmental risk.
Perhaps it is a fantasy - but maybe, just maybe the horrible incident at Lac Meganic will be a wake-up call to start thinking of the alternatives to oil.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 A Brief Intermission #2
For those who live on the Islands ( for example the Gulf Islands on the west coast of British Columbia) it is tempting and perhaps even somewhat arrogant sounding to suggest that these islands are special places (and some would argue the only places) to live. Or at least it would be arrogant if it were not at least partially true. Perhaps all islanders whether they are from small islands off the east or west coast of North America or some windy and and isolated by storms island off the coast of Scotland feel this way. There is a special magic in these places that is hard to define.
It is not that things are immeasurably better on, for example, Salt Spring Island than anywhere else. It shares with the the mainland all of the social and economic problems that can affect people anywhere else in the world. On the Island there are people with addictions, people who are living with mental health issues, people who are ( by Canadian standards) very poor, people who are without adequate shelter and on occasion people who are inclined to break the law. There is no reason to assume that any of the above happens at a lesser frequency on islands then anywhere else. In fact because there are perhaps fewer services on Island and a generalize perception on the part of many islanders that there are not any serious problems, the consequences of such social conditions may be more severe. The problems may be compounded by the fact that islands such as SSI are a mecca for people who are searching for new experiences or life changes. While the Islands may provide those opportunities for personal growth - for some- the lack of structure and the dearth of opportunities for meaningful, fulfilling and sustainable occupations can create more stress.
For some the weather, at least in terms of the west coast Gulf islands, is a major factor in their decision to live here on a full time basis. Almost all of those islanders who offer me drives and almost everyone that I know are migrants from another part of the country. But while the weather in the Gulf Islands is without question remarkable, not all islands in the world have great weather. However, I suspect that most islanders think their home islands are special places.
If the social conditions on some islands are not significantly better than elsewhere; if people for example, are not freer on SSI from the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" than anyone else; if the weather is not always a consistent factor in glorifying one's home island - why do islanders almost always refer to themselves as a special breed of people who are unique and by extension perhaps better that those of us sometimes called "mainlanders" (which may at times been seen as a less positive description)?
I think it is the perceived isolation from the rest of the world that causes this sense of being in a different place, a different time. And it is only a perceived difference. As I was walking downtown yesterday I saw a number of people drinking their coffee while reading their Globe and Mail. I am sure that they would have said, if asked, that they enjoyed being away from the rat race and the chaos of the mainland as they folded their newspapers to a new page. But perception is always more important than reality. I suspect that all people everywhere, when they have the luxury to believe that they have a choice as to where they live, create the perception that that place is special. They do so perhaps because to believe in the uniqueness or a place validates their decision or need to be there. It is not the place that is unique or remarkably different, it is people's belief that it is.
It is not that things are immeasurably better on, for example, Salt Spring Island than anywhere else. It shares with the the mainland all of the social and economic problems that can affect people anywhere else in the world. On the Island there are people with addictions, people who are living with mental health issues, people who are ( by Canadian standards) very poor, people who are without adequate shelter and on occasion people who are inclined to break the law. There is no reason to assume that any of the above happens at a lesser frequency on islands then anywhere else. In fact because there are perhaps fewer services on Island and a generalize perception on the part of many islanders that there are not any serious problems, the consequences of such social conditions may be more severe. The problems may be compounded by the fact that islands such as SSI are a mecca for people who are searching for new experiences or life changes. While the Islands may provide those opportunities for personal growth - for some- the lack of structure and the dearth of opportunities for meaningful, fulfilling and sustainable occupations can create more stress.
For some the weather, at least in terms of the west coast Gulf islands, is a major factor in their decision to live here on a full time basis. Almost all of those islanders who offer me drives and almost everyone that I know are migrants from another part of the country. But while the weather in the Gulf Islands is without question remarkable, not all islands in the world have great weather. However, I suspect that most islanders think their home islands are special places.
If the social conditions on some islands are not significantly better than elsewhere; if people for example, are not freer on SSI from the "slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" than anyone else; if the weather is not always a consistent factor in glorifying one's home island - why do islanders almost always refer to themselves as a special breed of people who are unique and by extension perhaps better that those of us sometimes called "mainlanders" (which may at times been seen as a less positive description)?
I think it is the perceived isolation from the rest of the world that causes this sense of being in a different place, a different time. And it is only a perceived difference. As I was walking downtown yesterday I saw a number of people drinking their coffee while reading their Globe and Mail. I am sure that they would have said, if asked, that they enjoyed being away from the rat race and the chaos of the mainland as they folded their newspapers to a new page. But perception is always more important than reality. I suspect that all people everywhere, when they have the luxury to believe that they have a choice as to where they live, create the perception that that place is special. They do so perhaps because to believe in the uniqueness or a place validates their decision or need to be there. It is not the place that is unique or remarkably different, it is people's belief that it is.
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