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Work has been keeping me busy. Too busy, 10, 11+ hour days at the end of the world. The owner's son's wife - working haphazardly as a waitress, 5, 6 hour shifts, has her child's birthday, takes the day off. Then gets sick and takes a week off.
We can't afford this.
All the running, from the beach to the patio to the restaurant and kitchen, it's made me lean - at the beginning of the summer there were suspicions I was getting a bit pudgy, a bit of a spare tire, but now you can't pinch even a quarter of an inch, I'm like Jack Skeleton running through the restaurant.
The beach, it's own private Idaho, boatloads of revelers pulling up, expecting the same standard of service they'd get inside, only now a hundred yards from the kitchen across a sandy beach - Jr. largely handles it, I can't be bothered, my "Fuck OFFFFF" attitude a little too obvious, but Jr. is figuring it out - after a nightmare evening in which 2 large groups partied it up down there, unannounced, complained about the service and then failed to tip, "18% Gratuity to be added" signs posted all around the beach - he's getting smarter. And - while I hate auto-gratuities - if there's a place they should be applied - it's here.
Mondays - Mondays, we're the only restaurant open between Nelson and Revelstoke. And we fill up - parties of 6, 8, 17, all showing up at the same time, never a reservation - we're swamped - it's more than he and I can handle - we have a busser - his 17 year old brother in law - but he's clueless, cut from the same cloth as the wife, generally more in the way, breaking things, a hindrance, unable to do even one thing at once and generally languishing in a state of confusion behind the bar.
And the other new girl - a little heifer, 18 years old, can't make her own drinks, wants to be a server but tries to call in sick, it's her birthday, it's raining outside and she's afraid to drive, she doesn't want to work early, work late, ...
This place is killing me. Really. Not a little bit, a lot.
3 weeks of summer to go.
In town, there's a rotating roster of restaurants that are closed - due to the Covid. From 38 cases one week to 74 the next. 74 cases is almost 1% of the population out here. In a single week. And we're waiting for it to get out to our restaurant - it's a matter of time.
Time for a few photos. Trips up the mountain - the waving fireweed in the wind glitched my panorama mode - my phone/camera, dropped so often that really, I need a new one - but not now, not now.
***
And the Election - Justin Trudeau - the west is on fire, seriously, this is not a "Climate Emergency" it's a climate Catastrophe - and everyone out here has a million other things on their mind. Fuck you. Fuck your fucking election, we're on fire. Do something about that.
***
Meanwhile, the weekend before last a more successful garage sale hunt. All sorts of Treasures - An antique scale, heavy, cast Iron with the cool display, circa 1961, $35.00. An antique gothic style New Haven Clock, $15.00. Antique cash register, more antique clocks, hutches - Mixed Media Opportunities abound, only everything is in too good a shape to be taken apart on my whims and destroyed - and reluctantly - VERY RELUCTANTLY - I show restraint and leave them behind. I've not 1 but 2 lockers full of supplies, should I ever find opportunity to retrieve them.
But - and there is one but - THIS:
In absolutely mint condition, $50.00. I can't leave it behind.
And so another typewriter.
****
There's more, always the unforgotten notes - the Hippy Campers parked in front of my place everyday, the bears, raccoons, the crows that have taken to cawing my name when I go outside for a fag but fail to reciprocate with treats for me, classic Nelson "Entitlement", there's a few books I found - Manly P. Hall on Self Unfoldment - I've been looking for his books for over 20 years, first one I ever found, Terence McKenna's "Food of the Gods", A Native American Herbal Guide (medicinal plants of the Americas), a box of fountain pen nibs, and there was the freshening rain a week or so ago - 1.7 mm forecast, but a torrential downpour - for a few hours, that freshened the air and brought hope - but, too little, too late, and we're on fire all over again. And I've now only time to ready myself for another 12 hours in hell, the Monday Night Slaughter, before my sole day of recovery. So - more news, other news, another time.
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Now, largely over the summit of the longest weekend of the year.
And there's no overstating the "Long Weekend" bit. Busy, crazy, walk-in tables of 10, 14 and even 30. Why would you need a reservation for 30 people? That's just crazy. No place else on the lake would have 'em is why, but we have boundary issues. Late tables, coming in at 9:00, Ten, twenty minutes after nine, we're still taking 'em, there until 11:00 at night, later than town, every server's nightmare.
Just hold your breath and get through it.
On a more positive note, Friday, yard sale in Balfour, sent staff to do my treasure hunting, came away with:
Which is a masterpiece of sorts. It needs a new lining and fixture for the clasp, but - on it's own, as is, it's a masterpiece. I'm going to make it my "Murse".
The weather - hot, humid, smoky, with a high chance of Covid. We've taken up the masks again. Except for the owner's son, who's "conscientiously objecting" by not wearing one. Other than the owners I'm the only member of staff to have gotten a vaccination.
There was the promise of rain - but, less rain than a general dampening of the roads, a humid nudging of the pavement. No rain to speak of.
And - rumor has it that the infections have come closer to home - another local pub has closed due to it. Funny, they never closed for TB or the hundreds of STD's that pass through it on a nightly basis, but they closed for the COVID.
For the moment that's it. Just survive today and tomorrow will be a day off.
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The past couple of days off...
Tuesday, Smoky, attempts to avoid the smoke, find clean air by a quick trip to Creston over the Kootenay Pass - Clearer, for sure, but - still the smoke.
Pictures below - from the restaurant, from the town:
.
Patios closed due to air quality. And dining indoors everyone - staff - is wearing masks. The virus is here.
Wednesday the air clears - surprisingly, and so I make a quick trip to the Valley, drive some new roads to new summits, abundant pegmatites, black tourmaline, garnets, feldspar, quartz - dozens of them, the whole drive should be walked over a period of weeks. The jeep sputteringly obliges, takes me to the top:
Sprays of black tourmaline in feldspar...
larger garnets in Feldspar
Motor chariot gasping at the summit.
Abundant spurs to explored, this place itself warrants a thousand holes - "it's here" understates it, there's treasure here for sure, but to find it. And all the way up the same and same again...
Roll the car down, much to return for and too little time. This weekend is another summit - the August long - the air is clear, forecast to 38 degrees, the restaurant will be a complete and utter madhouse. I have no stomach for this, I've done my time, and the owners trying to nudge me to stay on over the winter - when I've already sacrificed in the entirety my summer - well....
It's one day at a time, and I take comfort in the uncertainty of the world...the whole area could burn down, the plague could reach the restaurant - where none of the cooks or other staff have been vaccinated, there's a thousand end-of-the world comforting scenarios that could free me up to my own devices....
But for now it's back to work.
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The smoke, it's as if we're living through the end of days.
The all day sunset light, abysmal, coppery and bronze hues on the lake, the sun, you can stare at it, feel the punishing heat, it blazes through grey smoke and still we're burning up.
The rough throats, watering eyes, the smoke sticking to you, nosing, nuzzling you, the headlights at night blaze for not a hundred feet before falling off, the sun, setting over the western mountains disappears into smoke long before it goes behind the mountain.
I'm drowning here, chewing every breath.
Scorched plants line the highway, not yet burnt, merely dried up and withering, autumn's come a few months early, yellowing grass and burnt orange and brown leaves, those still green crumble in your hand.
Leaving town to go to work, the crazy people in the street, lunatics, drug-addled, loudly arguing with cars, a guitar on his back, book in hand, silhouetted against the smoke, the beggar in front of the liquor store diagnosing every customer - "You're insane. You're not". These are surreal, fantastical images from movies like 12 Monkeys, any movie, really, that dealt with this, and I'm getting a de-ja-vue.
Then there's the outbreaks, speaking to other servers, restaurants already short staffed, at half capacity for servers, now being tested with the virus, one pub, half staffed and then losing over a couple of days 5 servers to the virus - 2 weeks off, and then what? How many more?
Rumors of other outbreaks. If, when it hits us we'll close. Our kitchen, almost completely unvaccinated. I follow the news - look for the news of the outbreaks here - none specific to Nelson, but 85 new cases in one day, all in the Interior Health Region, More than the rest of BC combined.
Today, my day off, noticing everywhere in town waiters are wearing their masks. These aren't just rumors.
The ash from the fires, raining slowly, a fine dirty film that stains the tables, chairs, cushions, air visibly too dirty to breathe and it settles upon everything.
And the restaurant, throughout it all we're getting slammed - empty, all day, then - just as the owner's son is planning his early departure (too soon! Too Soon!) we get slammed, fill up, inside, out, on the beach, they keep coming like it's like some sort of Zombie Apocalypse, vacationers at the end of the world, we're the only show open for 20 miles, coming all the way from Nelson to share their Covid, infect us...
It's no wonder no one wants to do this job. No wonder at all, and these unpredictable rushes, the smoke, pandemic, they've made it worse.
Now the owners want to make a plan, sit down with me, they want to stay open over the winter - if I'm interested?
I'm not, not in the least, this is hell and I'm working towards a definite end, it's been too much, too long, but - how to be discreet?
And - in any event - I've a ticket to a rave, in the valley, August 21, family reunion of sorts, expecting the kids, and even this is presumptive - how to plan anything when the world is falling apart, burning up, falling over sick and dying? It's impossible, my thoughts even at the moment are one day at a time...
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This morning wake up to the smell of campfires. For a moment - just a moment - I think to myself that the house is on fire. But it's fine. It's the world that's on fire.
The nearby mountains, invisible, eyes watering, you need to chew before you can breathe.
It's intolerable, and we're not yet even close to August.
Check the news to ensure there are no fires closer - time again to reconsider that flight bag - I can pack everything I own into the jeep, and probably should take an hour or two to do so - and I'm wondering - how long will the restaurant last in this? Soon, I imagine, there will be an exodus of tourists - and then?
Day to day.