Horse Lake, Thursday, Gilbert is better

Gilbert is better. Better night. Less coughing. Better breathing. Happier. More energy.  Dr. Biernacki of North Road Vet phoned to see how he was doing. I was out fishing and Laura took the call.  He told her it was the elevation.  With heart disease he’s best by the sea. 100 mile house is 3000 feet. I remembered the IDAA conference with some of the old guys on oxygen because of the elevation of our meeting in Keystone Ski Resort. That was 9000 feet and I noticed the ‘thin air’.   I certainly don’t notice the elevation here. The air is so fresh and alive but it’s been tough for the little guy especially on muggy days.  He seems fine in the sunshine.

I felt stupid. Never thought of it. We  had booked this vacation back in February before Covid and before Gilbert’s condition became worse.  Dr. Biernacki further recommended a slight increase in his furosemide, the diruretic that reduces the fluid in the lung. Sure enough his coughing and spitting up has reduced.

I’m really getting positively lazy here. I spent yesterday morning sleeping in. Then I had coffee and read my western.  The good girl, the good guy, the bad girl and the bad guys.  Lots of gunfire.  

I actually did some work , responding to phone calls and need for prescription renewals. Since it was raining in the morning I was glad to.  It’s good to feel useful and also to have some money coming in.  I work for myself so don’t have benefits, no paid holidays, no pension, no sick leave. . I have some funding from the Doctors of BC for conferences. That pays for the plane flight but then I pay for registration and hotels but also usually tack on a week of vacation and sightseeing then.  

Some days I miss the high paid government, university and institutional jobs with the light work loads, month paid holidays, maximum 40 hour work weeks, more like 30 given the lunches and coffee breaks, 2 weeks paid study leaves, benefits, sick leave and pension..  The fattest fat cat doctors are in Quebec. Then I remember the soul destroying, bore you to death, ego driven, team meetings, all talk and nothing getting done, so appealing to the Chatty Cathy types and the posturing male suits, I appreciate my simple lowly low paid work. 

Mostly I’m just thankful to have work.  I’ve worked since I was 12 yo, part time jobs, then my SIN at 16 and working as a dishwasher.  With saving and budgeting I own what I have but think I’d be wiser to have rented and leased. My doctor friend George after his divorce argued that renting and leasing were the way for men to go now given the way,  the government and the  system increasingly preyed on home owners and people with property, while encouraging the criminals and people who simply don’t care that much to work, despite their claims to the contrary.  Parasites thrive as the hosts deteriorate. 

These camping vacations are just expense, no money coming in, and money going out. But necessary. It’s out here that I find peace and renew my spirit.  Each day I feel lighter.  Listening to others pain, fears, anxiety, depression I feel like I’m left with it. It builds like soot in a chimney. All the angst that’s burnt up in each session,  unloaded for me to incinerate. .  There are many ways people burnt out deal with distancing and protecting themselves.  I was trained to walk a mile in a persons’ shoes and to be with them. I actually will go down the rabbit hole of insanity, find them and bring them back to the light. That’s all you can truly do with the psychotic and the addict. Otherwise you’re just throwing bandaids at the problem That’s the empath challenge. Lending ego. Joining. Healing.  Easier to remain in one’s head and prescribe meds from a far.  The challenge is to remain feeling.  I thank my incredible teachers for their sharing and insights.   Still there’s that pesky  Caregiver’s burden.  They’ve finally listed the PTSD in DSM5 that folks like me experience hearing day in day out the terrible trauma which soldiers, police and prisoners experience.  Nothing better than camping and the woods to restore me. Sailing works too.  Wilderness. The outdoors. Time in prayer. Meditation. I find all those here. 

Laura’s experiencing the same relief.  Her work as a doctors assistant is a myriad of demands and activities so here she’s relaxing. As a mother she had years of children talking at her and now it’s sick adults. Out here she’s happy that Gilbert is so grateful and I’m with him. We are all wounded and it’s good to be here.  

Yesterday I rode the motorcycle over to Lone Butte Sporting Goods, my favourite outdoor shop around here. A young guy owns it. The Exeter Sporting Goods store in 100 mile House is another favourite.  I bought the Chiappa Double Badger there but the fellow at Lone Butte put a red dot siting mechanism on the rifle to help me hit the heads of grouse. Usually I have a scope. With open sites I can hit the grouse but couldn’t get head shots consistently.  I also was able to get another butane cartridge for our Thermocell.  My nephew Graeme sang their praises at warding off the demon mosquitoes so I bought one only to find I had a Thermocell Lantern in the camper. Now I’ve two and they do work well keeping mosquitos 20 feet away.

I actually fished. I took the boat out yesterday for the whole afternoon coming back in the evening.  I’d charged the battery so had a couple of hours of electric outboard trolling. I rowed. I’m getting lots of exercise. I cast. I tried every hook I’ve got. Not a bite. Fish were jumping.  The sun was shining.  A few fluffy beautiful clouds in the sky.  Perfection.  

I’m looking forward to fishing again.  Right now coffee and toast. It rained through the night. I was up once to walk Gilbert at 2 am then walked him again first thing this morning.  His breathing is better after walking.  

We’ve another couple of days here and we’ll stay if he continues well. He’s so much better today, playing ball, smiling.  We’ll head south to lower elevation by the coast then or even home.  I love the freedom. I’m so thankful to be off schedule.  Each day a blank slate.  It’s bear hunting season still here.  I’ve  even thought I might get a bear though frankly it’s a lot of work. My friends in the Urban Aboriginal Ministry always appreciate when I share wild game.   I’d rather sit around in the pontoon boat in the sun hoping to catch a fish.   

Mt H'Kusam View Lodge

Ostensibly I’m staying at the Mt H’Kusam View Lodge near Sayward, BC to go bear hunting each day. Because the bear have slept in like I have, I'm mostly driving around the glorious back country 4x4ing and taking pictures of Roosevelt Elk.
This Hostel and Wilderness Retreat owned and run by Jill Tyndale and Chris Watkiss is truly a jewel.  I’ve slept as deep as possible in the luxurious room.  There’s even a walk in shower, though I’m not old enough to appreciate that as one day I might.
This hostel sleep 20 some.  While a few rooms are like mine most are two bunks to a bed with a half dozen or more shared bathrooms and showers. There’s a professional kitchen and they once had a banquet for several hundred.  Two stories with rooms up and down and various places for meetings and relaxation.  I love the atmosphere.
 Chris taught Mathematics at university before having a family and becoming immersed in organic goat dairy.  No surprise one daughter is studying now to be a veterinary.
Right now there are tree planters here for a month.  Another time there were geologists.  They have a lot of return tourism folk who come like me for the outdoors. We were discussing nearby Mount Cheam with it’s tow rope skiing and Mount Washington resort. The winters were slack at first but have really picked up.
There’s fishing and hunting of course but mostly people come for the recreational pursuits.  There were mountain bikers out today.   It’s a photographer’s heaven.
I like the ease and wish I had a week to just hang out.  I’ve been 4x4 ing but I would gladly just walk these hills as well.  Gilbert loves it here.  He was out with the three other dogs in the fenced area out back. First they played then he barked plaintively to return to his special human status as my companion.
He probably could smell what I was up to while he was outside. I was eating a superb lamb roast and moroccan soup.  Chris and I had discussed Moosewood Cookbook and our times as vegetarians.  His stopped when they began farming and started a local 4h club for the children.  Mine stopped when I was an intern and the hospital food was so bad I was languishing because I couldn’t get out to eat.  Thankfully the East Indian restaurant opened next to the Winnipeg General. That and my return to chicken and fish brought me back to health despite the long hours and constant contact with disease.  Then I returned to hunting with Dad. There’s been no looking back.
I loved Chris’ lamb sauce.  After two nights of  remarkable meals I appreciate what a splendid chef he truly is.
"This is a long way from teaching math,” I said. “It surely is,” he said, smiling.

Departure Bay - another day hunting - journal

I'm here again. When I lived on the island I was forever here.  Departure Bay.  Waiting. The 3 o clock ferry is full so we're waiting now for the 5 pm ferry.
I just came in off Grafton Main. I had taken some logging road off the Port Alberni road only to come over this awful hill sliding and bouncing on loose rock. Another truck passed me when I was pulled off on a side road trying to figure where I was on the gps and map.  Another fool gave me confidence. Like Waiting for Godot.  I figured there was a way out.  I headed onto the trail through the power lines only to come up at a gate at Grafton Main.  I had the gps and backwoods book so had an idea of where I was. Figured I could drive up Grafton Main to find another way out.
Only trouble on the way up Grafton Main it got really steep then really muddy. I was flooring it and sluicing about on this steep overhang praying to Jesus and worrying Gilbert.  Finally got around the worst and up to a place where I could turn around. The road ahead was steeper and muddier so I was very thankful for this little widening. It was just enough to get the truck cross ways and rock her back and forth till I got around without the wheels going over the edge.  Then I was skiing down the slope and praying aloud some more.  4x4 and first gear and still braking all the way.  I took the power lines out following them till I found an exit after checking out several connectors that went nowhere. I was glad to see paved road again.
Before that I'd been up at dawn, loading the gear, and getting breakfast at MacDonalds' drive through. They're open at 7 am.  Up on the mountain again, Yellow Creek Main, I parked the truck.  I hiked up with Gilbert a mile or so then took a side road in to where I found a knoll I could climb up on and sit.  We were there for an hour or so in the rain and fog.  Gilbert was very attentive. I was fading in and out.  I couldn't see much when the fog came. It would clear then come again.  I was tired from the climb.  Spent some time playing with the gps, taking pictures of Gilbert and texting friends on the satellite phone. After I'd texted friends on the satellite phone, it was a good test, I found I had cellphone connection.  So I texted Hannah. She texted back she liked the picture of Gilbert. After that I sat for another half hour until I was getting really chilled. No deer. Nothing.
Gilbert and I walked down the hill.  I was glad again to see the truck and motorcycle and contents were safe.  We drove around there some then headed out around noon.
I'm fairly tired now. I loaded the guns and ammo better here in the parking area. I also changed from cammo to jeans and tshirt.  The weather is really mild.  Gilbert shared an ice cream cone with me.  Now he's watching other dogs being walked.  A guy who'd been off road motorcycling came by to talk.  I'd met him in the line on the way over.  I told him about 4x4ing the greasy. unintentionally.
It's Veteran's Day and Facebook has a lot of great pictures.  Laura uploaded the one of Dad and Gilbert. I remember Dad best at the epitaph here in Vancouver where he was given a seat of honour with other old guys in wheel chairs. He was walking with his walker and then sat with the other WWII vets. He was proud of his service.  Always loved to talk with other vets.  Told us kids though 'not to volunteer'.  I remember his RCAF uniform when we were young.  Then with Ron, when he was in his 90's, we'd take Dad to the air museum in Ottawa. There  he'd like to look at the old bombers.
Red poppies.  Flanders Fields.
It's been a great weekend outdoors and nice hotel and good company with Gilbert.  I'll be glad when the ferry comes and I'm that much closer to home.  Have to empty the truck at the storage lockers.It needs a wash badly but that will have to wait.  I also have to remember with gratitude, that though I didn't get a deer or grouse, I got to drive around back country, hang out with Gilbert, hike, photography, gps, 4x4, stay in a fine hotel, have a hot tub and swim, watch movies, read Tom Clancy and listen to the racy Diana Gabaldon audiobook.  Thankfully I didn't get stuck, or get maimed or die going over a cliff in the truck.
I used to live in Parksville so I was even in my own 'stomping' grounds remembering how much I loved the Island and my home here when I had it.  It was a pretty laid back existence nearly 20 years ago.  Had I stayed I'd not have had the sailing adventures or Saipan or the city practices.  It would have been different.  In the multiverses there are nodal points when consciousness seems to flow along a particular pathway but it just as easily could have gone along another.  All that was missing was a child or even a woman that shared a dream at the time I was dreaming it. With all the competition, mismatched dreams are a norm these days.  It was only decades back people didn't have the freedom to choose any dream from an ever longer list.  Two or three times now I've gone to the country and hoped to have a family only to return to the barren city.  I always thought it was a better idea to live in the country and work in the city but that was an idea years before it's time.
Now I think about retirement but don't see any hope for the future.  It will be 20 years after we see our last patient that we can escape from threats of law suits and complaints. The law always judges doctors on past deeds with rules made in the future by arts students wearing wigs. Doesn't give a scientist much confidence. Thankfully God is in charge and I'll probably work till I die.  As it is I grab these weekends of time off adding a day to make a 3 day here and there and adding a couple of days travel to a working vacation.
If I wasn't working I'd be out hunting earlier in the year until I got game for the winter larder. I'm thinking next year of taking a couple of weeks up by Fort St. John early Sept so I have time to get a moose. I still might get a deer but it's looking mighty iffy.  There's ducks to be shot and fish to be caught. I've been planning on doing more fishing and nothing like an empty freezer to motivate me.  Something about eating food you've caught yourself. I miss the gardens I've had over the years too.
I'

Northern Beaver and Muskrat

The Beaver is a symbol of Canada.  Trappers loved beaver hats for their warmth.  Natives say 'beaver tail' soup is the best. I've never shot a beaver. I've known that were I to be in a survival situation they'd be up their on the menu list.  The natives cherished them for the 'fat' supplies since 'fat' was hard to come by, most animals being lean and kentucky fried chicken not being available till the last decades.  Goose is popular for it's fat too.
I come across beaver and muskrat when I'm hunting deer and moose.  The beaver was in the woods by the side of the trail near a swamp and I noted the brush moving and heard him chomping first.  When I came over to take his picture, being shy he left. The muskrat however was swimming and quite happy to watch me.  He didn't like Gilbert and Gilbert didn't like him but he was near his wood house so felt safe with a near by exit. One of true joys of back country hiking is watching wildlife in the wild.  I watched the beaver for a while before I let him know I was near and the muskrat went back to it's business of buidling a damn as if I wasn't there even with Gilbert whining.  The beaver is rounder and bigger than the muskrat.  Beaver are more wary usually.  One road to a guiding area was flooded thanks to these fellows. We came by later in the week when the guides had returned to prepare their lodge for American customers. They'd broken the damn and the road was clear for travel.  These industrious little fellows will just build another damn so I expect the guiding operation has to do this a few times a season to keep it's lodges available to the outside world.