As we are driving to the Spiral Tunnels in Field, BC, we see a train coming. Since there is no guarantee of there being a train at the tunnels, we (and everyone else on the highway) decide to boot it. We beat the train there and I'm reading the signs before it gets too crowded. We got a good spot to view the tunnels.
I turned to my mom and said, "Do you know what they say about the tracks?"
Mom says that no, she does not.
"They say," I said sagely, "That there is one dead Chinese man for every mile of the track."
"Is that what they say?" Ernie asked.
"That's what they say," I nodded.
Mom doesn't understand why this is funny.
There are three points where you can see the train and if you're lucky you can see it entering the tunnel and exiting at the same time.
This was a long ass train so we got to see it at all three points (look for the colour in the bottom right).
It took a good half an hour from beginning to end.
The spiral tunnels will always be remarkable to me because they prove that where there's a will, there's a way.
The Kicking Horse River is beautiful and patient, despite how it rages. It has worn a path through the rocks over countless millennia and will continue to do so until well past when we're all gone.
The water will do as it pleases.
I have a habit of inadvertently collecting UNESCO World Heritage sites. I have visited probably about 50 in my lifetime with a goal of seeing more. In fact, my "win the lottery" trip is with a company that takes a year or two and travels to all the UNESCO sites in the world, first class.
Since naming Burgess Shale as a UNESCO site, it has been reclassified - along with Banff, Jasper, Kootenay and Yoho national parks and Mount Robson, Mount Assiniboine and Hamber provincial parks - as one site, Canadian Rocky Mountain Parks. Which is kind of bogus because Burgess Shale was a site for reasons other than a "striking mountain landscape". There were Cambrian and almost Pre-Cambrian fossils of marine animal life and is one of the most significant fossil areas in the world. Even though it is within the park, it should still be its own site. But I digress.
When Calgary celebrated its 100th anniversary of incorporation of a city in 1996, I bought a book about the people behind the place names of the city (Col. McLeod, Bob Edwards, Deerfoot, and so on), and some of the more unique features of the city (the bones from Chicken on the Way that help fortify the Calgary Tower, the cryogenic frozen bull semen encased in a statue on Stampede grounds). The name of the book escapes me now but I loved it. It was really helpful in my early history geek ways. If I wanted to know more about the Edworthy or Riley families or who Princess Oblensky was, I would turn to this book. The book wasn't limited to Calgary either; it had a lot of information on the surrounding area, including the Torrington Gopher Hole Museum in Torrington, Alberta. I hounded Mom forever to visit because come on, what could be better? But she never bit. I was always so sad and disappointed.
Some time in June, Mom finally went to the World Famous Torrington Gopher Hole Museum and fell as in love with it as I am. There would be nothing stopping me now from fulfilling this 20 year long dream.
Clem T. Gopher greets you.
Admission to the museum is $2.00 and it is worth every single penny. The premise is simple - taxidermy gophers in everyday scenes of a small town. Each scene is in an approximately two foot square box and each gopher has its own personality. Some have talk bubbles, some don't.
A few of the scenes have advertisements for local businesses. A lot of care and attention have obviously gone into them and a sense of humour is maintained throughout.
If you've got 14 minutes (and I know you do), I strongly recommend watching CBC's Short Doc on the museum and it's unbelievable curator Dianne Kurta here. You'll tear up.
We carried on through the middle of Alberta and the vast expanses of canola. Lots of canola. It was actually hard on the eyes.
We went to Dry Island Provincial Park, were Mom frightened a young lady. The young lady was there with her 8 month old baby and Mom asked, "is this Chloe?" and the girl (rightfully) freaked out a bit. Mom pointed out the baby's name was on the keychain in the young lady's other hand. Creepy, Mom.
Drumheller is on one of my coworker's bucket lists. It's strange to me because this has always been part of my back yard and doesn't strike me as a "bucket list" kind of place. But I guess a museum full of stuffed gophers isn't on everyone's list either.
World's Largest Dinosaur
In order to get to Drumheller and surrounding areas, you have to take the Bleriot Ferry over the Red Deer River.
We went for a hike in Horseshoe Canyon. This was not an easy hike for me - I was huffing and puffing the whole time because a) it was hot as and b) the altitude is a killer. When you've spent six years doing most of your hiking at sea level, your body gets used to an oxygen rich environment. Once it is used to that, climbing anywhere else becomes a chore. Worth it, however.
While digging for geodes for my coworker, I managed to cut the heel of my hand. I did not notice this until Mom pointed it out while we were climbing up the canyon.
Mom: You're bleeding. Me: *looks* Oh. So I am. I wash it off as best I can. It's not a big cut, there's some coal dust in it but no big deal. Mom: So am I! *shows me her pinky finger with a small scratch* Me: Aww. Would you like a bandaid? I've got one in the car. Mom: My cut is worse. Me: ....what? Why? Mom: Because I have cancer. Me: ...of the cut finger? Mom: Cancer makes everything worse.
Calgary is beautiful. It always has been and always will be (even if they were a little heavy handed with the Brutalist architecture at times). It is a city split four ways by two rivers and each of the quadrants is different. The people are split by the rivers and quadrants too; I know people from the NW who will not venture into the NE or SE and people from the SE who won't go in to the SW. Strange, but these physical dividers become mental dividers as well, until we're willing to explore past them.
I spent the day exploring my old stomping grounds. I wandered around Edworthy Park and was amazed/shocked/saddened by how much damage the flood in 2013 had done. Truly amazing and shocking what nature can do to itself. Entirely new land bars were created in the river, banks were washed out and paths were rerouted. It honestly blew my mind.
Downtown changed too. We drove around to a lot of the spots that had been flooded out and had no business being under as much water as they were. I don't like to see my city suffering like that.
We did go up to Scotsman's Hill, however. This was not affected by the floods but the Stampede Grounds it overlooks were.
After spending some time in Ramsay, we ventured in to the East Village.
Growing up, the East Village was a place to avoid at all costs. It wasn't safe, period.
Many mayors had tried to clean it up and it was in progress when I moved away. To come back to it being nearly done was phenomenal. It is walkable, clean, safe and very beautiful. A massive change from the shells of buildings and people and the syringes on the ground.
Two beautiful rivers, the Bow and Elbow.
The sun was getting low and a beautiful moon was rising. Ernie was willing to stay there all night and snap pictures of the moon rise but we moved on instead.
Waterton Lakes National Park is an exceptional park. It is primarily forgotten amongst the flash and dazzle of Banff and that suits the park just fine.
Along the way, we stopped in to see Auntie Roseanne and Paul. I haven't seen Auntie since I was 18 so it was a lot of fun. We all had a really fantastic chat and a good time before carrying on. It's funny though, how strong the McKenna DNA is. Mom and Uncle Jack look like Gramma Jessie while Auntie Sandra and Auntie Roseanne look like Grampa. Regardless, all of us (Mom, Auntie and I) look scarily alike.
One of the many, many thinks I love about Alberta is the diversity of the scenery.
We stopped at Red Rock Canyon, a place I've never been to before.
I would like to remind readers that we are in a national park in Canada - a first world country. These parks are well established but poorly funded. Our previous government didn't believe in funding things like the military, or national parks or non-oil based resources. As a result, money spent on the national parks system went ..... well, we don't know where it actually went but we know where it didn't go - the toilets.
We arrived at the same time as a group of British tourists. Our national parks system is world class and attracts people from literally everywhere. If you take a second to offer a smile and to take someone's picture with their camera (because selfies suck, and so do pictures with only most of the family/group), you'll find that people have come from around the world to visit the mountains. These people will also need to use the washroom. I did too. The young British ladies were loudly unimpressed that they were drop toilets in the middle of a national park. So was I. But when you gotta go, you gotta go.
Red Rock Canyon is aptly named and simply stunning. Google is giving up nothing in regards to the make up of the rocks but that doesn't really matter. They're gorgeous.
In Waterton, we five bears.
Two were on the golf course - a mama and a cub. They were having a snack on the greens before retreating to the other side of a wind break. A guy came along to play the hole, not knowing the bears were less than five metres away! They didn't eat him and I am only mildly disappointed. Two more were having a snack on the side of the road and the fifth was lounging in a field.
After a picnic dinner, we did some geocaching around the lake.
It hasn't been the best year for my mother at all. She was diagnosed with breast cancer and that sucks a metric fuckton. Yes, we all lucked out and she has the best case scenario breast cancer but it's still breast cancer.
And I hate it.
I was given the chance to go out to Calgary for 10 days and you're damn right I took it.
I went at the tail end of Stampede because #pancakes. And #beans.
The essential parts of a Stampede breakfast are pancakes, beans, sausages or bacon, and bad coffee. I haven't had a Stampede breakfast in 10 years and this was exactly perfect.
The following day, we (Mom, Ernie and I) went to Waterton Lakes National Park.
Along the way we stopped in Nanton and saw a Lancaster Canadian T-33.
"The T-33 on display at the Bomber
Command Museum is on long term loan by Orville Rowland of Okotoks. One
of the Canadian built aircraft, it's fuselage bears serial #21272
although the tail is from another aircraft. It was taken on strength by the RCAF
in 1954 and assigned to #2 Advanced Flying School at CFB Portage la
Prairie, Manitoba where in remained until it was struck off strength in
1967. Mr. Rowland acquired the aircraft and placed it on display at the
Okotoks Airport. It was acquired by the museum in 1998." Source
We visited the candy store as well where I learned they no longer made Nanton Root Beer, which is easily the best root beer on the planet. I don't know how to put into words what I feel about this.
We carried on down the road to Lundbreck Falls where we stopped for lunch.
Lundbreck Falls sits on the Crowsnest River.
Now, here in Newfoundland, people are losing their damn minds over a 30-acre canola field. Seriously. Canola. They're flocking to this field to take pictures of it.
The next 24 hours of my trip were almost personally uneventful.
I almost got arrested in New York City. That's a thing that happened.
When you take the bus from New York City airports, you're apparently supposed to pay before you get on the bus, not as you get on the bus. This is not clearly indicated anywhere and when I asked the nice lady at the Port Authority for help, she told me you pay as you board. Cool. I've got a MetroCard, no big deal. Awesome.
I got on the bus. I looked for a place to swipe my MetroCard but the driver told me not to and to go to the back. I took this to mean that the swipe was at the back door.
I was wrong.
I sat down and thought maybe I paid when I got off?
About half way through the journey, NYPD Transit Cops board the bus and ask to see everyone's proof of payment. Great! I'll show them my MetroCard - this is like the C-Train back home, I get it!
Nope.
I showed them my MetroCard and they asked for the receipt as proof of payment. I explained that I had tried to pay three times and was turned away each time and I'm sorry, could I pay them now? I'm from Canada and I'm normally really good on transit and I'm sorry, I don't know how this works. The nice cop half rolled his eyes at me and asked for proof. As I was searching my purse for my passport (explaining each step so he didn't think I was searching for a weapon, even offering for him to look himself if he would like and once again apologising), he smiled and said, "I know you're Canadian, you've apologised four times in about thirty seconds."
Glad to know our reputation precedes us.
I show him my passport and once again offer to pay. He handed me an official warning and said that next time, there will me a machine at the bus terminal that I swipe my card at and keep the receipt. I thanked him profusely and carried on.
I spent the day geocaching in Manhattan. I found a couple but missed one by about half an hour. There were a few others looking for it at Bryant Park and by the time we banded together we realized that the last two logs were a found and a Did Not Find an hour apart - it had been muggled.
James met some Rockettes.
I went back to La Guardia airport because it was getting late.
In my infinite wisdom I had decided that I could just sleep in the airport, no big deal.
What a fucking hole.
I wasn't the only one with this idea and we were all idiots. I was at least smart in that I had my scarf.
We were kept on the land side of baggage claim, barricaded away from the actual carousels by metal fences. They weren't even turned on - it's not like we could have done anything with them like go for a ride!
I found a TV and I wish I hadn't.
This was 13 November, the day of the attacks in Paris.
A few of us were sitting around and watching in shock.
Then the alarms went off in the airport. National Guardsmen formed up from out of nowhere and ran to barricade exits and keep large groups of people in areas together while other National Guardsman ran around and did things. This was very uneasy but I knew that the situation was under control. The alarms were called off about half an hour later and the Guardsmen dispersed like they were never there.
A couple of hours later, they went off again.
And again, two hours after that.
I appreciate the quick and careful response of the US National Guard and the Port Authority. Each time turned out to be nothing but the waiting was tense, especially given what was happening in Paris at the exact same time.
I managed to get a nap. I defied the odds and got a couple of hours of sleep.
I was finally able to enter La Guardia airside and really, I don't know what is wrong with people.
Since the dawn of commercial air travel as we know it, you have needed photo ID to get on an airplane. Period. This is especially true of international travel.
If you fly WestJet, they are kind enough to remind you many, many times with plenty of time to find it and have it ready. In fact, it shouldn't be that far away because you have to show it and your ticket in order to get past security.
Apparently in the 200 metres and half an hour wait since security, one woman forgot this. She didn't think her kids would need photo ID - namely, passports - for an international flight. Yes, USA to Canada is international. Her kids didn't have passports. They were 9, 11 and 15. She didn't think they needed them because they were under 18. WestJet, I'd like to point out, has repeatedly announced that all passengers need a passport to board the international flight. WestJet has said more than once that if you don't have a passport, you can't board. Everyone - everyone - needs a passport, even children under 18.
They apparently got passed security with state ID. They had no passports to board the flight. Well, the mother did because she knew she needed it. WestJet rightfully denied them boarding. This was an outrage because how was the mother supposed to know they needed passports!? They were only going to Canada! She demanded a refund and proceeded to have a fit. No refund for human stupidity.
Most of the time I spent in Rio I spent walking. Nothing out of the ordinary, as I walk all the time, everywhere.
What was out of the ordinary was that in Rio, I could end up at the beach.
And I did.
I walked up and down the lengths of Ipanema and Copacabana beaches countless times. I walked in the sand. I walked in the water. I paused for a while and rested in the sand.
The sidewalks along the beaches are made of limestone. This is a Portuguese tradition called calçada. Above is the calçada along Copacabana.
Ipanema has a different pattern. These patterns carry on through the residential areas in both Copacabana and Ipanema. There were people working on them too, so it isn't like they're replaced with concrete when they break down. The weather was about 30-35 degrees in the day. People of all shapes and sizes were wearing whatever kept them cool. It's a refreshing change from here where everyone is hung up about their bodies and would rather cover up than be comfortable.
Stop here. Appreciate life for one minute and smile.
Rio is a construction site. Everything is being built or repaired. Everything. Roads, sidewalks, buildings, interchanges, all of it. Nobody is working. People are literally sleeping on the job. There are workers taking naps on the construction sites. I have no idea how they're going to be ready for the Olympics. It doesn't even look like they're hosting one, from what I saw. There is not a lot of Olympic merchandise or signage around. I didn't take a lot of pictures of the beaches because they're all the same. They're a beach. Sand. Ocean. People. Not a lot of interesting things outside of the tiles as far as visuals go. Don't get me wrong, the people watching was great but you can't take pictures of people at a beach without looking like a creep. Overall, I felt very safe in Rio. I went out after dark, I ate in restaurants, I went in to store and grocery stores. I talked to people, I got around. There is a lot of discussion about how unsafe the Copacabana area is in terms of petty crime, but if you take proper precaution and aren't an idiot flaunting diamond bangles, you'll be fine.
Reading the online reviews, GIG airport is a hellhole on par with a POW camp. I didn't find this at all. I've been in worse airports. I've been in better airports too.
I was glad for this trip. It was very satisfying. An excellent birthday trip all around!
