Our Cousin, Ben

Selfie: Felix, Ben, Duncan and me

Wyona asked me if I had seen Ben Rutkowski since I have been in Victoria. 

Then the answer was no.

But tonight the answer is yes.  I went upstairs and Felix, Ben, Duncan and I took a selfie just as Steve was having Alex order in Chinese Food for all of us.

We are all awaiting Rebecca's return from Yellowknife which was delayed.

It is just that the last time she was there, it was a heart event for her.  This time it is me whose hearts is palpitating a bit, longing for her return.

Arta

The Classic Summer Storm

... waves breaking on the dock ...

Over the years, I have come to associate a combination of thunder, sheet lightening, pelting rain and high waves with the long week-end in August.

That storm didn’t materialize.

The storm did come later in the month.

... looking to the west and seeing how high the water is
splashing by the wet marks on the rocks ...

Rebecca and Bonnie took Duncan and Ben down to ride the waves. Rebecca was soon back up at the house telling me to bring my camera and join them since it was an event not to be missed. I don’t know what it is that is so magnificent: the wind coming from the west along the Salmon Arm of the Shuswap? the waves beating the docks until they are along the shoreline? the teen-age boys riding the paddle boards and the kayaks? Bonnie waiting for the next wave and then leaping in the air as it is about to cover her? Rebecca taking pictures and her hair billowing in the wind? the foam on the waves as it pulls back from the shore and into the water.

Perhaps it is everything together. I ventured out further than I wanted to go and it wasn’t long before I had been dashed back to shore flat on my back. Getting up from a prone position with the waves slapping down on me was something I hadn’t thought about when I got into the water. At least I had the good sense to be within calling distance of Rebecca.

Arta

Mount Ida (klas7ant)

... festival tents at the base of Klasant ...

On our morning walks, one of Rebecca's wishes was that she could learn more Secwepemc words -- even just the Secwepemc names of the flowers and plants we would look at along the way would have been enough.

In fact, we even wished we knew the English words.

But now, here it is for all -- the name of the mountain that is part of the landscape for the Roots and Blues Festival:  Mount Ida (klas7ant).

... life is good at the base of the mountain ...
... Ben's sunglasses have prepared him for the heat ...
... Duncan has found a way to escape the heat:  sleep ....

That 7 is not a typo but a symbol that they use in their alphabet.

So, say help to Klals7ant.

Arta

A Plethora of Games

 ...a treasure chest of games ... 

Doral Johnson delivered.

He said he would bring games for us to play.

And so he did.

This suitcase is only the beginning of what he pulled out of his van when they arrived for their holiday.

LtoR Doral, Duncan's back Ceilidh, Ben, Daivd's back, Bonnie

I have to admit that my favourite of the games is Sushi.

I will never be afraid of ordering when I enter a Japanese Restaurant again.

Duncan told the Johnson kids that they have the best parents ever -- board game parents. 

This is a family who plays board games up to five evenings a week, not just five evenings a year. 

So let's hear it for the parents of the year: Doral and Anita. They brought the gaming holiday of the year to us.

 Arta

Roots and Blues Festival, Friday Night

From Rebecca:

"I added my name to the back of this festival
chair: Ceilidh 2016"

"My first time to the festival.  Aunt Bonnie gave me
a $20 bill, told me to spend it and to come
back and tell her what I had purchased."

This year Arta didn’t come to the Roots and Blues Festival.

We banned her until she can do 12 hours in the hot sun.

So Bonnie and I headed off as the only two adults for our small group: Duncan, Ben, Megan, Ceilidh and Connor (David’s friend).

Yay!

 Six teens or teen-wannabees. They all had programmes, chairs, blankets, money and had been instructed in festival protocol.

Not a full instruction, because when the band Digging Roots asked us to come to the front to participate in a round dance, I couldn’t shame a single one into joining me.

But I got up there myself.

And ended up having my groovy dance captured on the big screen for the pleasure of my little crew. I can still boogie.

My favourite band this time was Digging Roots whose first song, “I’ll Cut My Hair” was about residential schools.

The second song, “Highway 17” was about missing and murdered indigenous women. They were just great. I bought their CD, along with 17 others. This is my once a year event to support musicians. Every year a big purchase appears on the VISA bill. It is always the same thing. Me with my festival purchases.

"My festival chair is before me.
I am packed and read to go." 

The Secwepemc welcoming at the beginning of the festival was a relatively quiet affair.

A prayer from an elder and a flute song by one of their relatives from the Navaho nation who has married in the Secwepemc.

I had already been told that the big elders gathering is this weekend in another venue, so I know most indigenous people are elsewhere this week-end, unfortunately.

The flute, though, was amazing.

 It sounded like he had two flutes going at the same time.

 It is a particular wooden flute that does have two openings at the top.

"My sunhat doubles as an umbrella."

I also loved having him there because the Elder’s introduction and their use of him as part of their introduction was a reminder that people from different places can become part of the same community, which felt a bit like an introduction to settlers to understand themselves as people who can learn to belong to the community.

The bonus is that the community will continue to acknowledge where they come from and draw on their skills as part of the new community.

"This is my fourth Roots and Blues Festival."

Bonnie and I walked past the flute player later in the evening and I grabbed him to tell him how much I had enjoyed his music. Bonnie asked him how he managed to make two notes at the same time and so he pulled out his flute and started playing for us again. I had assumed he made the notes by changing his finger position on the flute but it turns out it is in his embouchure. That was fun. I keep being reminded, say hello to people.

There was a funny thing that happened in the evening.

I went to check out the aboriginal art booth at the festival. I admired the goods. I started a conversation with the artist and his partner/wife. There was a beautiful woven cedar hat there and cedar roses on the table. I told them I have a cedar rose that someone gave me after they took their first workshop (the rule on the coast is that you have to give away the first one that you make).

"I am looking forward to the
flavoured lemonade at the festival.
Raspberry to be specific."

There was also a small pair of earrings with cedar headbands.

I told them I loved the hat but that I have a friend who is starting to make them and so I might end up buying one from her, but that I would buy the earrings, since they reminded me of my friend, Carla Point.

He said, “Carla Point! That is my cousin. And those other earrings are by Mary Martin, who is Carla’s cousin, too.”

So I have a selfie of me and Ernie to send Carla. It turns out he lives near Campbell River where Steve is working on the new hospital. It is a small world.

"And now into town to pick up my friend, Connor.
Festivals are more fun in twos and threes."

I showed Bonnie the earrings.

She took them and put them on her ear lobes and she went back over to browse at the aboriginal art booth, getting no eye contact with the owners and not mentioning anything to see if they would notice the earrings.

 It took a while.

She saw them whispering back and forth. Finally they said, “Excuse me, did someone just give them to you.”

As usual, there was an amazing sunset over the festival.

Rebecca

Beach Clean Up

Meighan getting off the paddle board

There is getting ready for the summer, pulling out the summer water equipment, the chairs, the umbrellas, the tables.

That work is done early in the spring.

But now things are going in reverse.

... packing up the paddle wheeler

Time for the beach clean-up is up on us.

My first long day at the water and I got to see the pack up beginning.

The first thing is to separate out the equipment -- whose kayaks belong to whom, and which paddles belong to which paddleboards.

Ben pulling up Tonia's kayak after a ride to Johnson's Point

Meighan and Anita in the water

Greg drove Dave's truck down to the beach.

The paddle board was the first thing to leave the beach and other pieces of equipment were packed around it.

Ben taking off his life jacket

Tonia's new kayak had barely arrived -- ordered earlier in the summer and now it hasn't even been christened nor named.

So it will stay in the water a little longer.

Ben tried it out and it glides quickly and smootly up and back to Johnson's Point.

He really wanted to take it to Canoe Point but that will have to be a trip for another year.
The old adage, many hands make light work, was shown to be true again.

Charise was carring paddles up the the twos and the fours, carrying them across her body to a safe place above the ramp.

Chairs were being stack, at least according to the make and colour.

Art was wondering how to sort out which units go to which house.

Earlier in the summer someone had made that easy for if you search long enough, you will find the name of the family to whom they belong, written somewhere on the chair in black felt pen that is now faded by the summer sun.

Charise climbing the ramp

I stayed in the water a long time.

The temperature was 36 degrees in Salmon Arm and a few degrees cooler at the lake, but not much.

Arta

Whipping Cream

"This could wear a man out!"

This is what happens when we loose the hand held mix master and all we can find is the wire beater for it.

People join up and take turns whipping the cream by hand.

At least the people who love to eat the whipping cream on top of peaches will do that.

Ben is the one who finally got the mixture to a place where it could be eaten.

Well done, Ben.

To the others, search harder for the hand held mix master.

We really, really need to find it.

Arta

Carter-Johnson Myra Canyon day trip!

August 2, the Carter-Johnsons and the Lochran-Rutkowski (Ben!) set out from Annis Bay to Kelowna for our second annual "Bike-Myra-Canyon-Adventure"!

The bike trail sits on the location of what was formerly a rail road track.  

It is a beautiful trip around the top of the mountains.  

One can still see evidence of the Kelowna fire of several years back, but it is looking good!

There were lovely puffy clouds in the sky, which helped to take the edge off the heat. 

 It was interesting how rapidly the temperature would drop as the path took you through rocky cuts in the mountain.  

I was (as usual?) rather obsessed with the amazing clouds against the deep blue of the sky.

 I think there might be 16 trundle bridges that carry one over deep gorges.   

They are both 'cool' and a bit terrifying!   The view is amazing, but i was a bit afraid to stop!


There are a number of benches set up at places along the path.  They are a great place to kick back, enabling quicker cyclists (like Steve and Alex) to have a nice place to rest while waiting for more cautious cyclists (like me and Ben and Duncan).

I was for sure the slowest person in our group, in part because i kept wanting to take pictures from various vantage points. 

Most exciting were the two caves you have to travel through on the way.   

what will be inside?

They are the coolest part of the trip.  

I mean cool both in terms of groovy-ness and in terms of temperature.   

It is a bit freaky cycling with with sunglasses on... there is a wash of cool air, and you plunge into what seems total darkness.   

Of course, Steve waited in the darkness of the first cave to shout "Boo" at me as a cycled by in my blinded mole-like state.   Exciting!  

I was happy to see that if I waited in the cave til my eyes adjusted, and then played with the settings on my camera, i could catch some of the gorgeous definition of rocks on the inside of the cave.   

I also loved the 'picture frame' look as you exited the other end!

The fastest person on this trip was Alex.   He was on his way back when I was 2/3 of the way in.   The only problem was, he told us, that he had left his glasses on a rock at the end of the trail...but was too tired to cycle back there.   could we pick them up for him?! 

Well... yes we could!  Indeed, when Duncan and Ben arrived at the end of the trail, they indeed found a pair of glasses waiting on a rock. 

And so, here is a photo of the FIVE of us at the end of the trail (you can see Duncan and Ben holding up Alex's glasses, so he could be present by glasses-proxy!)
 

A 10 person tent

... Connor and David under the dome ...

Between rain storms the men put up the new tent -- a 10 person,  so large that it doesn't fit down on the ramp camp.

... planning a tenting sleep over strategy ...

The wedding reach of the stream by my house seems to be the only flat place where it can be stretched out and then pinned down.

Ben and Duncan are both over 6 feet tall and you can see that the tent is taller than they are.

Connor and David can be seen on the inside, checking it out.

The inaugural sleep over begins tonight!

Arta

On "going home two weeks early" ...

"I was so bored."  That is the word Ben used when he described what happened when Rebecca took the boys home two week early last year.

A fleeting thought went through my mind.  What is happening that is making life less than boring out here.  I had that thought when I was standing still for moment, watching the vacuum truck suck out the contents of the sceptic system, since Wyona had called in the honey wagon for her own house and I could see how it would be useful to have the same thing happen here.  Ben's only question was why do they call it the honey wagon.

Christine Cusack, Greg and I were right there with Steve, the truck's operator.   Christine and I were leaning right over the tank, watching the whole process, the suction, the crust slide forward.  Yes.  We wanted to know it all.  Ben was holding back a bit. All four of us wanted to know how many gallons Steve's truck holds (18,000), how often a job like this should be done (it all depends), what is the principle on which a septic tank works, how can the top of the system be changed from a cement block to a plastic top which is easier to move.  Yes, we wanted to know it all!  Ben was on the second row back of the interested watchers, but he was close enough to hear and see it all.

The details of the rest of the day, I cannot make so fulsome, or I won't have another day today.  But Ben also cut blackberries from the path so others won't be scratched, racked sticks up from the site where he is going to camp, pitched the tent on said site, swam in the water, played dungeon and dragons, ate vietnamese spring rolls ... yes, not a boring day here.

Arta

On Addressing the Fear of Knives

Is a pizza cutter a good spatula?

I can remember that my dad always carried a jack knife with him. A red Swiss Army Jack Knife, complete with a toothpick, a screw driver, a pair of scissors, a nail file, and of course a blade. It is the blade I remember – Doral sitting at the breakfast nook, taking out his knife and using it to clean under this fingernails. I can also remember Doral playing mumbley peg on Sunday mornings. After Sunday School the 12 year old deacons would gather around him, and those with knives would join in the game with him. Who could do the most steps in the game with their jack knives? That was the purpose of the game. I didn’t ever want to have the priesthood, but I did want to have a jack knife and I thought the two were inextricably combined. So I resigned myself. Jack knives were only for boys. I can remember Doral saying, when a boy gets his first jack knife, he should also get a box of band-aids which is the first thing I thought of when I knew the boys were going to get one.

It was Rebecca, thinking that Ben, Duncan and David were old enough to have whittling skills, and so she gifted each of the boys with a set of knives. A small one. A larger one. It is summer. They are in the woods. It all seemed to work for her.

Our training with them began in the kitchen – using them on their individual pizzas, cutting sausages, making pineapple spears. One pineapple each to begin with. When the pineapple was finally cut the boys had juice up and down their arms and all over their clothes ... from where they had wiped their hands. As well, the kitchen needed a thorough cleaning of the island, a wiping down of the cupboards and a mopping of the floor. I didn’t know two pineapples could slip so many ways.

Is a square pizza as good as a round one?

The knife training continued to the garage where they were collapsing the cardboard boxes to lay flat in one large box to be carted off to the recycling depot. A third time the knives were used was when a plastic-netted pack of chocolate gold covered coins were to be used at the some-more bonfire.

“How am I going to open this package,” Duncan said.

“I know how,” said Ben as he reached for his pocket.

 “I never thought of that,” said Duncan, reaching into this own pocket. I told them that the knife is never to be brought out for people to see for some people think that knives are weapons, though we know that they are tools. I never see the knives and wouldn’t know the boys are carrying them, until one is brought out.

All to myself?

“Let me see your new knife,” said Rebecca. “Sorry,” said Duncan. Grandma said that we are not to show them to people.

“I would like to see your new knives,” said Glen. “No, you aren’t gong to trick us.” “Knives is the one thing I never joke about,” said Glen and then on a chance to take a good look at their, he commented, “Nice balance and weight.” “A good knife needs to be sharp,” he continued. “Come and see me when it is time to sharpen your blades and I will show you how. Now, can you show me where the safety mechanism is on this knife?”

The boys obliged. They are comfortable carrying a knife in their pocket and having a back up in their camping pack.

A New Frog

When we were barely into the morning, Ben Kutowski (Duncan's friend) and I heard a lot of noise on the railroad tracks. Actually, I seemed to hear the noise all night, but when I was working around the house in the morning it was so loud and so constant that I grabbed him, the only person under 14 who was awake, and said, “Come on. An adventure awaits us outside. We are going to see where that noise is coming from.”

... chasing across the beach to find the RR noise ...

We slipped down the stairs at the lakeside of the house and peered over the embankment and through the trees.

Men working and a machine, but too many trees and branches.

We couldn’t see clearly what was happening.

We went to the other side of the track, via the crossing, the Healing Circle, Pilling’s Beach, through the gate, and there where Annis Bay Estates meets LaRue was the track crew working, the one who had been on duty since 1 am. They were changing the ties and the nails at the crossing, which is marked by a round red lollipop sign, a crew person told us. “Twenty feet on either side. We take up the ties, put new ones in and then nail them down. We are leaving in twenty minutes, since our shift is over then. We call the switch a frog.”

This is the part of the operation that Ben and I watched: the final nailing of the ties; a machine like a giant nail gun, the spikes coming down a tube, the hammer striking them into the wood and the ground, then a new nail falling into place. Over and over. Everyone wearing a hard hat. Everyone with ear plugs in place. The nailing machine signaled it was about to move 4 yards down the track by sounding a long note from the horn. Ben and I about jumped backward into the lake with the noise. “I am sure the CPR crew could have heard a smaller toot,” I thought to myself. “Or else, the ear plugs those men are wearing are pretty powerful and they can’t hear without a noise that loud.” I guess I am going with the latter idea.

Further down the track one man was laying down on the coarse gravel bed that the ties lay on, taking a sight line down the rail. A few others were working in pairs, one putting the handle of his pick-axe on a nail and the other using the head of the pick axe as the place where he hammered something down. Now that doesn’t make sense to me when I think about it, but that is what I saw.

Ben and I watched until we could feel the heat of the sun. Then we completed the loop from our house, walking along the CPR right of way west, then over the crossing that had been fixed that morning and returning to our house along the canopied cover of the trail that would lead into our house. Ben, not really knowing the lay of the land yet was surprised. “Look, a house,” and then with pleasant surprise in his voice, “Our house.”

Arta