Through The Mist Darkly

Although I’m usually lucky enough to get business class when I travel to Europe, domestic travel is always in cattle class.  In order to help dull the pain, I pay a fair amount of money every year to for a "Maple Leaf Club" card with Air Canada.  This allows me to use the lounge and executive class check in facilities.  It’s been a good deal but I’m starting to think about whether it’s worth renewing next year.

I got to the airport in Toronto this morning with plenty of time to check in, go to the lounge and then wander down to the gate.  Or so I thought.  There were about 30 people in line waiting for one harried Air Canada agent.  I finally got through and heading off to go through security.  It was hell but that’s not Air Canada’s fault.

Got into the lounge without problem and immediately noticed a few things:

1. Coffee machine out of order
2. Real glass glasses had been replaced with plastic.  Not only is this wasteful but it sure sends an incredibly cheap message to your best customers.
3. The entire lounge was messy.  Lots of staff standing around, just no one doing anything.  Where are the supervisors?
4. The men’s room (usually a treat when compared to the standard terminal facilities) was out of toilet paper and messy.  Hello?  Doesn’t anyone check these things on a regular basis?

The flight was fine.  Flight deck was unusually chatty which is always a good thing.  Watched Caddyshack and had a good laugh and saw some incredibly high thunderheads which were stirred up by Hurricane Ike.  Left rainy Toronto and landed in sunny Vancouver.

Air Canada, you’re letting the beancounters ruin what was once a proud, great airline.  You’re sacrificing decades of goodwill to save a few bucks.  I know times are tough but you need to think these things through.  And don’t even get me started on your Jazz affiliate pulling all the life vests off their airplanes.  Somehow the phrase "penny wise and pound foolish" is stuck in my mind and won’t go away.

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Another Saturday, another packing day.  Off to Vancouver tomorrow afternoon for another week of fun in the warehouse.  I’ll have to check but this looks like it’s turning out to be one of my busiest years for flying.  I’ve got 2 more trips to Switzerland scheduled in October and November and, hopefully, a few more training flights at the Brampton Flying Club which will add to the current total of 21 individual flights.

Whew!  My arms are getting tired.

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Spent part of today driving around checking out some of the areas I knew when I lived here over 3 decades ago.

We lived in this house in West Vancouver for a few years.  Looks vastly different than I remember.  Used to be a dark blue as I recall and the door in front of the car used to be the garage door.

After that, it was out along Marine Drive to Horseshoe Bay.  One of the main ferry terminals to the Gulf Islands and Vancouver Island.  Still as pretty as I remember.

Finally, out to Deep Cove.  Very, very touristy now.

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I transferred from the Richmond Inn to the Hilton yesterday.  Much nicer hotel with a great view of the mountains and the airport.  And other things.

Woke up this morning to the sight of a car fire about a block away from the hotel.  Nothing major so I placed a non-emergency call to the fire department.

Speaking of fire, last night’s sunset was pretty.

Was hoping for some nice weather but so far today is coming up cloudy and cool.  Oh well.

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Love Vancouver.  Hate being stuck here alone on a long weekend on a business trip.  Don’t get to go home until Wednesday morning.

I’ll be working all day tomorrow and then have 2 days off.  Guess I’ll check out some of the sights over on the North Shore (West and North Vancouver) and if all else fails I’ll walk the seawall at Stanley Park.

I’d much rather be home with Jan.

(picture above taken on the Fraser River near the hotel.  Floatplanes are based here right across from Vancouver International Airport)

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Nothing makes a Vancouverite madder than someone saying "it always rains out here".  Well I lived here back in the 60’s and 70’s and I know it doesn’t *always* rain but it comes close some times.  (The above is the view from my balcony at the Richmond Inn).

The flight out here would have been fine except I came down with a migraine headache half way across the country.  A fistful of Advil and a quiet night will hopefully straighten me right out.

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This week in ground school we had the second of three classes in meteorology. You think you know weather but until you start to look at through a pilot’s eyes you really have no idea of how important and complex it actually is.

Through how air moves (predictably) to the different types of clouds and what they mean to the dangers that weather holds for small aircraft, it’s a fascinating part of the studies. Unfortunately, I’m going to miss the final class next week as I’m off to Vancouver on business. I can make the class up later but I think it’s best to take all 3 in a row so I’ll jump out of the current schedule and pick it up again on a different night.

In the meantime, I’ve picked up a few books on the subject that I’ll read while I’m away.

If you’re interested in the subject, a good place to start is the Cloud Appreciation Society where you’ll find thousands of cloud pictures.

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Ok, so it’s a corny headline.  Heck it works.  High above the Rockies from seat 12F on a Air Canada A320.  I’d forgotten just how majestic they were.  I’ve seen the Alps and, yes, they’re beautiful too but there’s something about the Rocky Mountains that makes the Canadian heart stir.

A normal economy flight - no meal (unless you buy it) but I was in a good seat.  Watched the movie “Cloverfield” and you should save your money.  The same jerky camera style that made “The Blair Witch Project” so hard to watch.  Bargain basement CGI monster but at least it wasted and hour and a half.

I’ve made it as far as the Richmond Inn and so far all I see is construction.  It’s almost as if they were preparing for something.  Oh yeah, the Olympics.  After work tomorrow, I hope to make it over to my old stomping grounds of West Vancouver and North Vancouver.  Lots of places to see.

Of course, no trip to Vancouver would be complete without a trip to White Spot for one of their Triple “O” hamburgers.  Those things have been clogging my arteries since 1967 when we moved out here.  They don’t taste as good as I remember but at least I made my pilgrimage.

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It’s 8 degrees on January 6 in Toronto.  Ontario’s largest ski facility, Blue Mountain, announced the layoff of over 1300 people due to a lack of snow and unfavorable snow-making conditions.  Trees are starting to blossom.  To top it all off, weather forecasters are saying that we’re not really going to get any winter conditions to speak of this year.

On the other side of the country, Vancouver continues to get hit with wind and cold weather possibly leading to the collapse of the inflated dome roof on BC Place stadium yesterday.  Their forecast for today shows heavy rain coming which will make the repair difficult.

Our long rate outlook suggests that we might actually see some light snow next Thursday but they’ve been way wrong too many times to count this season so we could be swimming instead.  Hell, New York City is looking a 20 degrees today - only 8 below Florida’s expected highs. 

I just confirmed that I’ll be travelling to Zurich on February 3 and they’re looking at double digit temperatures next week as well.  Looks like I’ll have to get up into the Alps to see any snow this year.

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British Columbia, and indeed the entire Northwest coast of North America, has been going through some really savage weather lately. Snow, rain and terrible winds have been lashing the area for weeks and the damage cleanup continues.  I haven’t been following the news closely but this story hit home.

I lived in the Vancouver area for a number of years in the 60’s and 70’s.  Many, many hours were spent walking through Stanley Park which is, in my opinion, one of the greatest greenspaces on Earth.  At the edge of downtown Vancouver, the park is a sanctuary of old growth forests, the seawall and numerous walking paths.  It’s hard to believe how powerful the winds must have been to take down some of these huge furs.

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Hot. Damm hot! It’s hard to dispute Global Warming when the temperature is hovering at 33 degrees with the humidity making it feel more like 40.

Environment Canada says that 2006 is, so far, the warmest year on record and I believe them. Played golf at 6am today and by 7:00 it was already getting steamy. Both air conditioners, a dehumidifer and a fan are running to keep the house barely comfortable and I’m sure the electric meter is spinning fast enough to generate its own power if we could somehow harness it. Hmmm…. there’s an idea!

Toronto has 10 “official” beaches and only 2 of them are open because of all the shit floating around. Ok, they call it “fecal matter”. Perhaps they should take the gloves off and call it what it is. Seems the torrential downpours of last week just caused the waste treatment plants to give up and dump the crap right into the sewers which drain right into the same lake that supplies Toronto the majority of its drinking water. Not that I’d swim in Lake Ontario or drink Toronto tap water unless I was really desperate.

Hot weather and I have never gotten along; I’m more of a Spring and Fall kind of guy. Makes me wonder why I ever left Vancouver. Oh yeah, I remember, the whole town is full of what is floating in the lake right now. Smug bastards who look down their noses at you when you mention you were born in Ontario. Half of them have never made it all the way down the freeway to Hope and yet they feel knowledgable enough to pass judgement on the rest of the world. Scenery’s nice as long as you don’t have to listen to the population. When you’ve lived in or travelled to as many places as I have, that narrow provinical attitude gets old really fast. A lot of Americans have that same fault but they’re grand enough to extend the view to cover the 48 contiguous States.

Where was I? Hot. Damm hot!! Tonight, I’ll sleep in our air conditioned bedroom and tomorrow I;ll take my air conditioned Jeep to my air conditioned office and we’ll all complain about the heat and do our very best to stay indoors. Hard to believe that in 5 months we’ll be getting ready for Christmas and probably bitching about how cold it is. Weather - without it, Canadians don’t have much to talk about.

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Just watching the final days of the Olympics in Torino and trying to decide whether or not I want to watch the closing ceremonies. I think I might skip it and remember these games as the most successful Canadian showing ever.

Putting aside the failure of the men’s hockey team to look anything like a world class squad, Canadian athletes - especially the women - have given us all cause to feel tremendously proud. Cindy Klassen’s 5 medal domination of the speedskating venue is a feat that will stand large in our memories and the women’s hockey team gave us all reason to cheer.

In 4 years the world will gather in Vancouver and the promise of a greater medal haul cannot be underestimated.

3 cheers Canada!!

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The first car I ever owned was a 1972 Pinto. I’ll wait a minute until the laughing dies down. Are we through yet?

Actually, the second car I ever owned was a 1973 Pinto. My wife version 1.0 decided she wanted to drive so the ‘72 with its manual transmission had to go. They were both good cars and the second one got me across Canada from Vancouver to Toronto in just under 3 days. In February. With one driver.

What triggered this spell of nostalgia? Word from the Detroit Auto Show that GM is bringing back the Camaro from its still fresh grave. I guess the success of Ford’s redesigned Mustang got the designers thinking that lightning can strike a few more times. Of course, Ford also revived the Thunderbird and that didn’t last very long but, since the Big Three ran out of new ideas about the same time that Honda stopped being synomomous with crap, they’ve got to keep running just to stand still.

So now we can expect a mad rush of “New” “Old” brands because, as we all know, marketing types cannot shift gears until they’be beaten the shit out of an idea.
The 1976 Pinto? Who knows, it might give the Corvair a run for it’s money.

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A 72 year old Vancouver interior decorator has been found guilty of poisoning trees to improve her view of Stanley Park but will not face a criminal record due to her “coast to coast humilitation”.

June Matheson’s $1.7 million condo has been the target of rocks, eggs and pet feces since the details of her crime became public and was forced to sell.  Her lawyer said, “My 70-something client is now the object, truly, of feces and abuse”.

 
CTV.ca | Vancouver woman admits poisoning park trees

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So a group called Emporis Data Committee has compiled a list of the 100 cities whose skylines have the most visual impact. Toronto comes in at number 10 while Vancouver ranks number 25.

Having lived in both cities, I think Vancouver has a much better skyline but that’s only when you turn your back on the city and look at the mountains.

BTW, Hong Kong is ranked number 1.

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Way back in late 1967, my father decided that it was time to move yet one more time. My whole childhood was a series of exercises in packing and unpacking. From Ontario to New Brunswick to Prince Edward Island to Nova Scotia and finally back to Ontario. It’s no wonder that I only remember snippets of my early years. Unlike those who spend most of their time in one place, I have no physical anchor points. I can’t look at the house down the street and remember how we stole the pumpkin on Halloween. I can’t drive a few miles and see the spot where I first kissed a girl - hell, I can’t even remember what province that was in.

My memory is filled with disjointed scenes like a weird David Lynch movie. Watching my best friend in Peterborough burn himself when we decided that our games with plastic soldiers would go better with the addition of gasoline. Falling through the ice into Chocolate Lake in Halifax in December with Evan Nickerson where we would have surely died if it wasn’t for a young student who jumped in and saved us. Going with two beautiful girls at the same time who knew about each other (aah, the glorious 60s).

Anyway, back to the story. Dad had been transferred to Vancouver and we had to be there before the first of the New Year. It was time to go. We watched the movers load our posessions for the long snowy drive across the continent. I really don’t remember why we had to move right before Christmas but there we were, four of us in the whale that was the Plymouth Custom Surburban station wagon equipped with 8 track player and studded tires.

My father loved to drive. One of the things I inherited from him was the quest to “MAKE GOOD TIME”. The autombile club said the best winter route between Toronto and Vancouver was through the States so off we went. Again my memory is fragmentary but I remember rain, snow, ice, snow and rain in that order. We got snowed in at Grand Island Nebraska where we stayed at a Holiday Inn. The experience was like some bad disaster movie that Irwin Allen might have coughed up when he was a little behind in paying his bills. Everything was white and nothing was moving. I don’t remember how long we were there and if the little girl got to the hospital in time for her transplant (OK, I made that part up) but finally we hit the road and Goddamitt, we had to MAKE SOME TIME UP. Ted drove long and hard. We watched cars spin off the road somewhere in the Dakotas and we ran over birds that were frozen to the road (that part I’m not making up).

Finally we got through the mountains and left the snow behind. Christmas Day was spent in Portland Oregon and it rained. Rain? My whole life had been spent with Christmas’ of white. So there we are stuck in a motel with the rain coming down. I was pissed at having to move yet again, I was tired from sitting in a car all day fighting with my sister and listening to the 8 track of “Kismet”. And now this? Take your Merry Christmas and stick it up your fucking ass Santa. On the other hand, I remember that I got a table radio which was pretty cool.

After the big day it was time to push north towards Vancouver. We made it and checked in to a motel in North Vancouver called The Maples. I’m sure it’s long gone now and has been replaced with a Starbucks (everything in Vancouver gets replaced with a Starbucks or a Payless Shoe Store) but back then it was a quaint little place that had kitchenettes. You see, we had to wait for our furniture to arrive - the moving company drivers weren’t as good as my Old Man and didn’t MAKE GOOD TIME. As a matter of fact, they made terrible time and we ended up staying at The Maples for what seemed like an eternity.

We survived. I learned to love Vancouver. I lost my virginity there. I got to know recreational drugs fairly well. I earned my first paycheque working for a Japanese family in a third story warehouse near a bar that opened at 9 am. I got married, I got divorced. I shared a house with a bunch of guys from New Zealand and Australia and got to know and love their bent senses of humor. I grew up.

As another Christmas fast approaches, I look back on the winter of ‘67 and, with the mellowing that comes with age, smile at the memory.

Maybe next year I’ll dredge up the details of how we had Christmas dinner at a Polynesian resturant in downtown Halifax.

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Packing for trips is always an exercise in compromise. Do I pack too much or too little? Too much and you have to check the bag at the airport and run the risk (or probability) or having it go to Denver when you’re on your way to Vancouver. Too little and after a few days you start thinking about going on a shopping spree.

This site advocates the theory that it is possible to pack everything you need into one carry-on bag. Interesting information that I will definitely use.

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Not the same thing as what we did in the 60s but Canadian teens are deserting broadcast radio in droves according to this article out of Vancouver.

I can’t agree with them more. If I want music, I go to Whole Wheat Radio.

About the only reason I listen to broadcast radio anymore is for Howard Stern (one of my guilty pleasures) or local sports or talk station.

Babba Booey.

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