A Visit To BC's Ancient Forest Provincial Park

     Ever since we moved to the Robson Valley, I have been attracted to its rapidly disappearing old cedar forests.  These old cedar forest are a rare ecological habitat, known as a Inland Temperate Rain Forest.  Happily one such area has been preserved and has become the Ancient Forest Provincial Park, which is located about an hours drive west of McBride.  It is a special place that love to experience and I got another chance to do so when my brother and his family up here for a visit.

    A sign beside one of those old cedars said that the tree was one thousand years old when Leif Erickson stumbled upon North America.

    While those gigantic, moss-covered cedars are the main attraction in the park, I have also loved seeing the plants that thrive in the dark, moist ground, beneath the ancient cedars.  Below are a couple of photos I took of those plants.  

    Immediately below is a fern tucked in between the roots of one giant trees.  Below that is a Skunk Cabbage, a broad-leaved plant that grows only in the wettest and darkest areas of the Ancient Forest.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

BC Summer's Triple Whammy

     We are currently experiencing three negative events that sometimes occur during in summer.  Unfortunately at present, they are all happening at the same time:   Our sky is filled with smoke from distant forest fires, we are experiencing unusually hot (for us) temperatures (32°C, 90°F), and our  mosquito population has exploded, making any leisurely pursuit outside, unpleasant.  The photos show what the sun looks like through the smoke-laden evening sky.

    Fortunately, there is a predicted end to our hot temperatures, as a cooler, more normal, showery front is scheduled to move in this weekend.  However there is no way of knowing how long the forest fire smoke and the irritating mosquitoes will remain.  

   The smoky summer skies are something that began occurring ten or so years ago.  It was our very wet and showery spring that gave us the mosquitoes, but at least that moisture lessened our chances of getting a forest fire locally.

    I no longer look forward to summer the way I optimistically used to do, in the past.

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Back To Blogging Again

     After a short hiatus in blogging, while hosting my brother and his family who were visiting us from Dallas, my wife, Kona, and I are getting back to our slow, mundane, lifestyle again.  We had an enjoyable visit and were able to catch up with what was happening in their lives.  While we had seen my brother last year when all of my siblings visited the Robson Valley, we hadn’t seen his wife or two sons for years.  In fact, the two boys were just kids last time we saw them, and now they are both in university.

    During their visit, we took them to a few of the unique local Robson Valley sites.  One evening we made the forty-five minute drive to the scenic Tete Jaune Lodge, to belly up and gorge ourselves at their tasty buffet, situated right beside the Fraser River.  This time, the dinner was an unique experience because there was a heavy downpour of rain and thunder storm going on.  

    We ate under the large protective tent roof, watching the flowing river as the lighting flashed and thunder rumbled.  It all made for a very memorable dining experience, but the wild weather didn’t prevent us from stuffing ourselves with the delicious food.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

No Blog For Five Days

     Whenever I don’t blog for a few days, people always send me emails asking if I am alright.  My brother’s family has just arrived up here for a visit, so I don’t think I will be able to do my blog for a while.  I thought I would just get out in front of my probable absence and warn you that the blogs won’t be be there for probably five days.

    You can take a short break too.

See my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

My Pollinator-Friendly Lawn

     I live in a rural area and I have never been a fan of mono-cultured lawns, so if I see patches of  wildflowers coming up in my lawn, I mow around them so they can bloom, providing nectar for the bees, and giving the pollenated plants a chance to reseed, so they come up again next year.  For all of those uniform, mono-cultured lawn purists, my lawn looks chaotic and unkept, but I would rather have a lawn that provides food for pollinators and have a wide diversity of plants, than have a monotonous, carpet-looking lawn around my house.

    Once the blooms start to brown, wither, die, and no longer provide nectar for the pollinators, I mow over them.   Yesterday as I was mowing I was going to mow over one of the flowered sections in my lawn, but then I saw some bees still working some of the flowers, so I mowed around the patch again.

    Although chaotic looking, I think my lawn is a lot more interesting to look at, than those mono-cultured ones.  My lawn offers a variety of shaped foliage, different hues of greens, plus a variety of colored flowers, and it makes me feel good whenever I see the bees out there buzzing around and getting the nectar they need to survive.

    Below are some photos of some of the patches of wildflowers that I mow around in my front yard.

    Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

Robin Egg Blue

     For weeks now, I have been seeing a robin fly off from under the carport whenever I walk out of the carport door.  Robins have often build their nests up in the carport rafters, and again this year the are using the location.

    A few days ago as I was walking past the end of the carport, I noticed the end of a robin’s egg laying on the ground, so I assume that one of their eggs had successfully hatched. 

    Robin eggs are sure a memorable soft shade of blue.  

Take a look at my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Eternal by Lisa Scottoline

      I always gravitate toward reading historical fiction.  I have always been interested in the history of different cultures, and reading about characters living through those past events are a bonus.  I chose to read Eternal because it was set in Italy during the Fascist Regime of Mussolini, something I didn’t know a lot about.

    The novel follows the lives of three very close friends, beginning in their teenage years, all from different backgrounds.  Elizabetta lives with a liberal father, once a painter, now a helpless alcoholic.  The father is very anti-fascist in his political views.  Elizabwetta’s handsome and athletic friend Marco, lives with a family who runs a bar.  His father is very pro-fascist and supports Mussolini.  The third in the trio of friends is Sandro, son of Jewish parents, with a father who is a prominent lawyer and his mother who is a physician.  Surprisingly, even through they are Jewish, they also support Mussolini, at least they did until his actions against the Jews began.

    Marco and Sandro, although the closest of friends, are slowly falling  in love with Elizabetta. 

    As the story evolves, Elizabetta’s mother abandons the family, because of the alcoholic father.  Young Marco is given a job as a messenger for a high ranking Fascist army officer, and Sandro gets a scholarship to study under a prominent mathematician. Things gradually become more difficult and strained for Sandro and his family when Mussolini, under the influence of Hitler, starts restricting Jews.  This action resulted in both his father and mother losing their jobs, even though both worked in important fields to the government.

    Marco’s status rises working for the fascists as his boss’s position rises in the party.  However, Marco’s status becomes somewhat jeopardized when his older brother is caught in an antifascist underground group and is killed.

    Things become increasingly dire for Sandro and his parents as Mussolini falls more under Hitler’s influence.  Without employment, they lose their home and are forced to live in a tiny apartment.   Eventually, they are rounded up with the other Jews to be sent to a camp.

    The plot is full of twists and struggles as situations change as the forces of history fall upon the three friends, and the dynamics of their friendships changes.  

    I learned a lot of Italian history from the novel and the storyline kept me turning pages until the end.  

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Prunes

     Yesterday morning when I was preparing my breakfast, I looked down at my colorful bowl of fruit (I hadn’t yet added the rolled oats) and noticed the six prunes in the mix.  Seeing them reminded me of the initial start of my daily dose of prunes, something I have been indulging in for three decades.  

    I was sitting at my drawing table doing computer mapping at my BC Forest Service workstation,  as I listened to CBC radio as I worked.  On the radio they were discussing prunes; a fruity food that I hadn’t eaten for scores of years.  They mentioned the fact the prunes were one of the best sources of antioxidants one could find.  At the time I was beginning to hear a lot about the benefits antioxidants and hearing the discussion of prunes made me start to remember and crave their taste.

    When my lunch hour came around, I was still craving the a taste of prunes, so after I had eaten my lunch I walked down to the grocery store and bought myself a bag of prunes.

    I ate some of the prunes when I got back to my workstation, before getting back to making maps.  After a while, I had an urge for some more prunes, so indulged myself again.  I ate quite a lot.  

    About an hour later, I began to have disturbing loud and strong rumblings in my stomach, and began feeling nervous and unstable about eating so many prunes, remembering the bowel side effects they are most notably known for.   

    I don’t really remember if the prunes did produce that side effect on that particular day, but from then on, if I was eating prunes, I would always limit myself to just five or six of them.

    After learning of their generous antioxidant benefits on that day long ago, I did start the habit of adding five or six prunes to my breakfast, daily.  It is a practice I faithfully continue.  

You can see my paintings at:  davidmarchnt2.ca

One Rain Shower After Another

    The photo shows a couple of swallows darting around as darkening clouds obscure the Cariboo Mountains.   We have been experiencing a parade of rain showers for months now.  Many of the showers are quite heavy with rain.  The downpours have formed puddled in the bottom of the rows between of potatoes in the garden.  I have previously mentioned the flooding of my root cellar caused by all of the moisture in the ground.

    Showery weather used to be the norm for the Robson Valley during the spring and into July, and then generally we experience a switch into sunny, dry, and hot days in late July and August.  In the last handful of years there has been a disruption of that pattern and so I was happy to have it return, having experienced those years of drought and forest fire danger. 

    With the apparent building of a powerful El Nino in the Pacific and forecasts of hot and dry weather ahead for us, I am hoping the fire danger will not become too great for us.

    The rain storm hit with strong winds and a wet fury, then thirty minutes later, the storm had disappeared and we were back to sun, blue sky, and puffy white clouds, awaiting the next bout of showers to appear.

You can see my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

My First Forest Fire And Todd

          Because of the drizzly rain, the next morning, the crew stayed in camp while the crew bosses hiked back up to check on the fire.  I spent the morning sharpening the polaski's and axes. When the fire bosses returned to camp a couple of hours later, The fire was declared out, and arrangements were  made to start helicoptering the crew back home. 

        I was among the skeleton crew of six was to stay behind to keep an eye on the fire for one more day, just to make sure there were no flare ups.  We started to dismantle most of the camp which was packed up, and we piled all of the camp and fire fighting equipment near our heli-pad in preparation for its removal. The helicopter arrived mid-morning and began to ferry the crew out. The chopper could only carry 4 passengers at a time, but slowly the population of the camp shrank down to just a handful.   As the last of the exiting firefighters boarded, and the helicopter sat ready to take off, Grant came stomping over to where we were organizing the fire fighting equipment and asked, “Has anyone seen Todd?”

         We looked around and shook our heads, “No, why?” 

        “This is last helicopter for the crew, and he’s no where to be seen.” 

        We all dropped what we were doing, and spread out in the forest around the empty camp site looking for him.  A chorus of “Todd, Todd.” rang out throughout the trees, but no Todd was could be found.  Although concern was expressed about whether he might have had an accident, I suspect that most of us were secretly thinking that he was out there somewhere hiding. Eventually, the decision was made that those in the helicopter should be ferried out, and the helicopter finally departed without him. 

        We continued our search for Todd without success.  The helicopter returned for JJ and I. We loaded up and where dropped off in a gravel pit near where Highway 16 crosses Dome Creek. We had a few hours to wait before our ride back home to McBride arrived and we took advantage of the situation by taking a very cold skinny dip in Dome Creek. 

        I heard later that Todd eventually returned to camp, and the Forest Service had to send another helicopter, complete with a RCMP (Royal Canadian Mounted Police) officer, to make sure Todd was returned back to McBride. When the chopper landed and the the policeman stepped out, Todd took off running, but they were able to catch him and fly him back. 

       I don’t remember what legal troubles Todd’s behavior led too, but Todd amazingly, never held any grudge against me. He would occasionally drift into McBride every year or two, and whenever he spotted me, he would come over and talk to me like I was his best buddy. 

       A few years later, when I had become a full time employee of the Forest Service, several times Todd actually came into the Forest Service office looking for me. On one such visit, he came to ask me if I would be a reference for him and write a letter to a court in Alberta saying that “Todd carried MACE (an aerosol pepper spray) to keep bears away.” I told him I couldn’t do that because I honestly didn’t know if he ever carried MACE.  

        On another visit, Todd told me, “You know that fire I was on, that was the second time I have been busted with a helicopter.” 

        As I look back at my expectations of going to the Greg Fire, I was totally wrong about everything. The only flames I saw were when I was staring into the camp fire as we ate supper. The only axes I handled were the ones I sharpened while sitting in camp.  

Take a look at my paintings by going to:  davidmarchant2.ca

My First Forest Fire: More Todd

         Around 4:00, (that’s 16:00 Forest Service time), the fire crew returned to the camp. I asked a few of the guys what they did and they told me they just cleared a helicopter landing area and cut some trails in the area close to the fire, and did some mopping up, but the rain had pretty much put the fire out. I asked about Todd, and their expressions and then their words, told me that he didn’t do much of anything up on the fire. 

        Todd’s lack of motivation, changed tremendously, once dinner time rolled around. He was again first in line and he flopped 4 big pork chops down on his plate. This didn’t go unnoticed by the other fire fighters, who were having a difficult time keeping their resentment under control. We all settled down and again ate around the campfire, and ate as the night closed in around us. 

Take a look at my paintings:  davidmarchant2.ca

My First Forest Fire Conintues: Hippie Todd

         Grant and the fire bosses had decided that because of the heavy rain and our late night yesterday, there was no rush to get to get the men to the fire. The crew straggled out of the tents looking for their coffee and breakfast and by 8:30 Grant had them assembled and told them they would be hiking up to the fire, which was upslope one half mile away.  

        It was at this point that Todd first became an issue with the Fire Bosses. They had discovered that he was still wearing his raggedy old running shoes, and when they told him he should put his boots on, he had told them that he didn’t have any boots. This created a dilemma, because of fire safety concerns, boots were a requirement and since we were in a remote area miles from anywhere, there really was no solution to the problem. 

        Grant lectured Todd about how he had been told to bring boots, and how irresponsible and dangerous it was to be out on a fire without them. Despite all of Grant’s earnest arguments, the words seemed to be sliding off of Todd, just like the rain sliding off of the boughs overhead. In the end, Todd left the camp with the rest of the crew, walking in a single file line into the wet forest and up the slope toward the fire. 

        Because of my official position as Timekeeper, I was told to stay in camp and help JJ with the camp work and food. The men had made sandwiches for themselves before they left, and so once we had the dishes washed and the camp tidied up, I recorded everybody's start time on my timekeeper forms and busied myself cutting a trail down to the creek, where we would be getting water. 

        Around 10:30 Todd, now rain soaked, came ambling back to camp. I asked him why he had returned and he said that they needed some chainsaws up at the fire, and they wanted someone to come down to camp to see if we had any. 

        Then, like I was his closest friend, Todd confided to me, “When they asked for a volunteer to walk back to camp to see if there were any chainsaws, I jumped at the chance, because I didn’t like doing all that work up there, but then as I started walking down here, I started thinking, ‘if there are chainsaws down at the camp, I will have to carry them back up to the fire’ and I started getting really worried.”

        I told Todd that luck was on his side, because there were no chainsaws in camp. 

        “Far out,” Todd replied, and walked over to the table under the tarp and grabbed a handful of cookies from a package. I resumed my hacking away at the underbrush clearing for the trail and after about 45 minutes, I noticed that Todd was still just hanging around the cook tent stuffing his face. I decided that since Todd didn’t seem to possess the motivation to scoot himself back up to the fire; that I had better “play the heavy,” and encourage him along. 

        “Todd, you’d better be getting back to the rest of the crew, and tell them we have no chainsaws down here.” 

        “It’s quite a hike all the way back there.”, he replied. 

        “I’m sure it is, I countered, “and that’s why we pay those big firefighter wages.” 

        I figured I had set things straight, so I turned back to my trail clearing.  Then a bit later, I noticed that Todd had not left for the fire and was messing around in his tent. 

        I am not one who likes to wield power, but since I had assumed the role of a Forest Service official, I felt obligated to enforce the rules, so I confronted Todd in the tent and tried, to the best off my ability, make things clear. 

        “Todd, if you don’t get back up to the fire, I am going to have to have to record you as not working, and you are not going to be paid for the time you are hanging around here.” 

    He came up with a few lame excuses about why he needed to stay around camp, but he did much to my relief, finally head back up the trail to the rest of the crew.

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

My First Forest Fire & Odd Todd

 The photo shows a young me with my Forestry hard hat.

        It was when the crew were called to eat and they lined up to fill their plates, that I first noticed Todd.  Having lived on the fringes of hippiedom during the late 60’s and early 70’s, worn my hair longer than the norm, and suffering the consequences for my appearance, left me drawn to those who might be kindred spirits.  Todd looked like he might be such a spirit.

        Todd had long stingy, dirty, shoulder length, blond hair which rested atop his thin, 6’5” (2m) frame. He wore old jeans with holes in them, an old sweatshirt, and raggedy old running shoes. He looked every bit the stereotypical hippie, and as I was soon to learn, no one else I have ever met, came closer to living up to that stereo-type, than “Odd Todd”. 

    After helping with the kitchen clean-up, I did my time-keeper chores. I went through all the names, trying to mentally put a face to them. I recorded the hours everyone had put in for the day, then repacked all the forms and pencils back into the brown envelope, did up its string-joined tie, walked over to my designated tent, slid into my bedroll, and fell asleep. 

        I was somewhat dismayed, upon awakening at 6:00 the next morning to discover that during the night it had begun to rain, in fact, it had begun to pour. A cool grey dampness hung over the camp. I forced myself from the sleeping bag and blanket and put on my clammy, but dry clothes and wandered over to the shelter of the tarp that served as the roof to the camp kitchen. JJ was already at work scrambling eggs and frying bacon. 

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

My First Forest Fire, Part 4

         Finally off in the distance, I heard the whop, whop, whop of the helicopter, it was just like in the beginning of MASH, the TV show.  The chopper came into view with a rush from behind the trees, circling us, and then settling down in a flurry of flying dust, twigs, and noise. 

        When it shut down, Grant climbed out, along with Ron and Guy (two local loggers) who were to be the Fire Bosses. A bus carrying the firefighters arrived about the same time.  It was decided that Grant, along with JJ, Bob, and I, would fly in first, so we could begin to set up the camp.

        Securely buckled to my the seat, and feeling lucky to be sitting in a window seat, we lifted off.  My eyes were scanning every where; the scattered farm houses and hayfields shrank as the horizons expanded. There was the Fraser River, now under us, and soon we were moving along the slopes of the snow- capped mountains which cradled the McGregor river.

        “There’s the fire,” I heard Grant say through the earphones, as he pointed out a thin white column of smoke that was twisting up from a ridge. I snapped a picture, even though I didn’t see any raging flames of orange, eating its way though the trees. It’s a good thing I took that picture, because it was the only time on this fire fighting adventure that I was to actually see the forest fire. 

        The camp site was a lightly treed open area beside a creek. We cut saplings for tent poles and roped up the canvas tents between the trees. We hung tarps and made tables and cut logs to sit on.  It took many helicopter trips for all of the supplies and the firefighting crew to arrive.

    As the crew disembarked they began to take over the construction of the camp, while Bob and I began to concentrate on helping JJ put the kitchen together and prepare the supper.  When JJ finally had the meal ready it was 9:30 PM and all of the many stories I had heard about eating well in Fire Camps were confirmed. Tired and hungry, everyone with their overflowing plates in their laps, sat on logs and rocks and ravished the steaks, potatoes, and peas by the dim, flickering light of the lanterns and a campfire.

        The photo shows JJ the camp cook on the left, and Bob the First Aid Attendant, giving JJ a hand with food preparation.   

View my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca

My First Forest Fire. Part 3

         My hunger sated, it was now time for some more waiting. Around 2:00 (that's 14:00 Forest Service time), a big farm truck pulled into the parking and I helped Ray, the farmer and truck owner, load up the axes, shovels, polaskis (a tool that is sort of a combination of both a hoe and an axe), pumps, fuel, tents, lanterns, cooking equipment, utensils, pots, pans, food. sleeping rolls, toilet paper, and chainsaws. You need a lot of stuff to set up a camp to fight a forest fire. 

        When we had all of the equipment and supplies loaded, we did some more waiting until we were told it was finally time to actually get the truckload of supplies moving down the road. I grabbed my pack containing my gear and the brown envelope with all of the Timekeeper’s pads and papers, climbed into the passenger seat of the farm truck, and we rolled out of the Forest Service parking lot and headed down Highway 16 toward Dome Creek and the helicopter pickup site. 

        It took about an hour to get to the drop-off point. I helped Ray, the farmer, unload all of the tools, equipment, and food from the farm truck  and onto a nice pile on the grassy field at Dome Creek. Ray got into the truck and drove away and I did some more waiting, all alone, with the mountain of firefighting supplies. 

        Forty-five minutes later, Alastair arrived in a green Forest Service pickup to drop off JJ, (who I was happy to see) and Bob, along with more supplies.  JJ was the hippie/jack-of-all-trades friend and neighbor, and Bob was a farmer, who would be the First Aid Attendant. I was happy to learn that JJ was going to be the cook. It was reassuring to have someone I knew along on this adventure. 

        We unloaded more supplies from the back of Alastair's truck and he drove away, leaving us to continue with our waiting along a bigger pile of fire fighting equipment.  

    My paintings can be seen at:  davidmarchant2.ca

My First Forest Fire, Part 2

 The photo above shows the building that used to be the McBride Ranger Station.

    My wife drove me the 6 miles into town and dropped me off at the ranger station. I kissed her good bye and began walking up the sidewalk. I couldn’t help but notice that there was a distinct lack of chaotic rushing around and the yelling of orders, that I had expected to see at the Forest Service office with a forest fire to be fought. Instead I saw a quiet sunny morning with no activity at all, in sight. 

        I walked up the concrete steps, opened the door and stood by the counter. A man wearing a beige shirt came up to the other side of the counter and asked if he could help me.   I replied that I had received a call from Alastair, and that I was there to help fight a forest fire. The man walked around a wall and called to Alastair who came to the counter and welcomed me.  He  then introduced me as David, his neighbor who was a teacher. He told me to follow him. 

        Alastair led me into a large room in the basement of the office, and handed me a big brown envelope with a string tie and told me that since I was a teacher, I was going to be the “Timekeeper” on the fire. He had me open the envelope and as I took out and looked at all of the various pads of paper forms and cards, he explained to me what each of them was and what I was to record on them. 

    Alastair then introduced me to Grant, who was to be in charge of the fire. I was then left on my own in order to spend more time reviewing the various timekeeper pads and forms.  Grant returned to tell me to make sure that all of the pencils were sharpened. 

        Things seemed to be moving a whole lot slower than I had expected. There was still no other fire fighters that I could see.  As I sat in the basement studying the Timekeeper’s forms, I was introduced to a couple of other Forest Service guys and began to glean a bit more information about the fire and what was going to happen.  

        The fire was caused by a lightning strike, up one of the tributaries of the McGregor River, which was about 50 miles northwest of McBride. There were no roads close to the fire so I was going to accompany a truckload of supplies to Dome Creek, the nearest  community to the fire, where a helicopter would pick me and the supplies up, and fly to the location where the fire camp was to be sited. I would be helping set up the camp. The firefighters would not be flown into the camp until the afternoon. 

        I then did a lot of waiting, which was followed by more waiting.

        I accompanied Alastair to the grocery store to pick up the food order that had been filled for the Fire Camp. I was starving; firefighting is hungry work. I took advantage of being at the grocery to buy myself a chocolate bar to tide me over until I got something more substantial to eat. We drove the groceries back to the office and where I did some more waiting. The guys at the office had some sandwiches brought end and fortunately I was a recipient of one of them. 

You can see my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca

My First Forest Fire Call Out

           My life took an unexpected turn when the phone rang at 9:30 on a hot and sunny August Saturday morning in 1978.  It was a phone call that had an immediate repercussion, but also had further repercussions two years later that led to a 25 year change in the direction of my life.

        The call was from Alastair, a neighbor who lived a couple of houses down the road who worked for the B.C. Forest Service. In our many visits with him and his family, I mentioned that I was available and eager for any kind of work, and fortunately Alastair remembered that, and was on the phone to tell me that there had been a lightning strike that had resulted in a forest fire up the McGregor River drainage, and the Forest Service was in need of fire fighters. Was I willing to come and help?

        “Sure”, I told him “What do I need do? 

         “Just bring some boots and gloves and come down to the ranger station as soon as you can”, Alastair  replied, then added, “You’ll probably be away from home for a few days, and this is a helicopter show, so we will be flying you in and camping.” 

        Wow, a helicopter ride!, Now, I was really excited. It was mostly the pristine mountains that had attracted us to move to the Robson Valley and the McGregor River was a totally untouched wilderness drainage, about as pristine as it comes, and now I was getting an opportunity to ride in a helicopter and see the mountains from the air. I had never been in a helicopter before, and jeez, I had never had to fight a forest fire before. My mind was racing, by this sudden opening of new opportunities. 

        I pictured myself as a fire fighter;  I stood stoically, axe in my hand, as an inferno of flames snaked up nearby trees and sparks swirled around me.  I neatly stepped aside to dodge the incendiary branches that crashed down beside me.  I paused for a few seconds, exhausted from the exertion of using the axe.  The heat was intense. I took off my hardhat and wiped the sweat from my ash smeared brow. The fire roared, my 30 seconds of rest was over, I must returned to the fire fight.

    Back to reality:  I filled my wife in on the details of my exciting phone call, then gathered some work clothes, my heavy duty hiking boots, and a pair of work gloves. A camera, I mustn’t forget to take my camera. I was ready. 

View my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Happy Canada Day

     We’ve got a fairly grim looking holiday going for us today.  It is coolish and raining, so I thought I would pull out a more scenic photo for the occasion.  This Is a picture taken on the way up to Kinney Lake in Mt. Robson Provincial Park.  The beautiful, but unnatural looking color of the water, is due to glacial “flour”, a mix of ground up rock carried by the river.

    Like every other country these days, Canada is suffering from the erratic, chaotic, and unstable bullying of the child-like president of the US, but it is muddling along.  

    Our weather will no doubt put a damper on the Canada Day events scheduled in McBride.  We will probably drive into town later today, to get some doughnuts from the local food truck.

You can view my paintings at:  davidmarchant2.ca

Heat Dome Singed Hostas

     Three days ago I blogged about the heat dome the Interior of BC suffered under, five years ago in 2021.  Well, it wasn’t only local people that suffered, the photo above shows what happened to my hostas as a result of the heat dome.  We recorded a extraordinary temperature of 41°C (105°F), and the hostas that were growing immediately beside the walls of our house got even hotter, because of the radiated temperatures generated by the nearby walls.  The heat caused their generally vibrant leaves to curl up and die along the edges.  

    I am currently painting another image of the phenomenon.  The photo below shows how far I have gotten so far on the painting.