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This is crazy, the climate apocalypse. "A predictable side effect of climate change..." they said, and then mentioned it no more.
The restaurant, no AC, hotter than hell, customers - well, people that go out in this, expect to be served, expect cooks to work in industrial kitchens with little to no ventilation - the less said of them the better.
Yesterday - back up to the new crystal spot with Chris. On the Ferry, hot, I've drunk 3 liters of water already, I need more, I'm pissing clear but I can't seem to hydrate. And at the seam, 12 KM up, a mile above the lake, banging on the quartz, decomposed, filled with pockets, but not a single crystal in sight. 2 hours of this, no horsefly can get perch on me, they're washed away in the waterfall of my sweat.
Give it up, head down, back to the ferry, only we've missed it, into the dive pub of the east shore.
Waitress, confused, flustered, a bar filled with a half dozen regulars and she can't keep up, the heat, it's addled her, scrambled her brain, she can't pull it together enough to bill customers, we make token orders - we only want in out of the sun - and eavesdrop on the tables. One guy grows magic mushrooms. Another Oyster mushrooms. So they're talking about mushrooms.
A table sits next to us - Albertans, older woman with her 2 daughters, looking for a bite to eat. This is the only place open in town. And the waitress talks to them, and I'm not paying attention when the chef comes out and tells them "NO WAY!! He's been working all day in the fucking kitchen with no AC, hotter than hell, hotter than hell, and he's finished in 7 minutes and he'll be damned if he can take it any more...".
They leave.
The drone of the waitress, the regulars laughing at how addled she is, we ask for our bill, she can't get it, the computer's stuck, she thought we had left, did we see the other guy that left? She needs a cigarette...
We wait. Everyone has bad days, only I don't think she knows she's having one, it's moment-to-moment survival.
They should just close. Everyone should. This is intolerable. This is payback for every ant that was cooked by a child with a magnifying glass, see, feel how it's like?
The leaves, they curl, wilt and wither in the heat. We're running low on water, every spring less and less, this hot spell - the hottest ever - will by followed by the earliest and longest fire season yet.
And it will be the same again next year, exactly as it has been every year for a dozen years before - every year another "One in a thousand year event" - thousand year flood, drought, snowfall, heat wave, plague...
There's a surreal haze to everything, like through the smoke, only without the char-broiled smells, it's every living drop of moisture being sucked up from the earth, it makes for a beautiful sunset.
***
This morning - up at 7:00 AM. 28 Degrees. A smashing headache, little to no sleep and that brief stint in the sun, it's hard-boiled my brain. There is no respite. This murderous heat wave, it's the kind of weather that births spree killers, madmen, lunatics.
I should be able to meditate this away. If the monks of the high Himalaya can raise sweats in blizzards, then I should be able to convince my body that I'm cold, that I'm hypothermic, I should be able to become Mr. Freeze, insulate myself from the charring heat...
The world has gone insane. From one disaster to another, the restaurant, the laughing face of enterprise trying to pretend it's now "back to normal" - there is no normal, not anymore. This is the beginning of a sea of troubles for which there is no plan, for how can you plan for what you don't believe in?
Harper, and his destruction of all the carefully garnered climate data, his muzzling of scientists, suppression of facts, he's guilty as sin. Hang him. As is Kenney, O'Toole, Ford, the lot of them. We'll make no progress with these ass-holes in charge.
The world's on fire, and we can't begin to foresee the effects. Overpopulation will soon be a thing of the past. Climate change will trigger wars, mass migrations, famines, water shortages, political instability, there are no end to the effects - predictable, predicted and ignored.
We would gag the scientists and wait for the "Visionaries" - the Elon Musk's and Jeff Bezos's and Bill Gates' of the world to come to our rescue, only they are the problem. They are why we are where we are. We are told we should trust in politicians with their long term plans that have no bearing on the immediacy and urgency of our current situation.
There is no long-term plan. We've gone past the tipping point and everything now is in free fall. Grab a parachute, an air-conditioner if you can, a sheltered underground home, This heat wave, it's killing people, crops, what's it doing to the fish and wild animals?
Tomorrow will be cooler - a mere 39 degrees. Bring your parka. The manipulation of language - by the media - is outrageous. It will not be cooler in the least. 39 degrees, 41 degrees, 38, 35, 47 - it's all too fucking hot. None of these temperatures mark any sort of end to this inferno. Quit saying it will be cooler, content yourselves with "you'll be a little slower cooked..."
This is the beginning of the end.
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Tuesday off, a few errands, thrift shops, then head out - the 11:30 Ferry to the East Shore, meeting up with Chris to do some prospecting.
I eat a big breakfast. I've taken this intermittent fasting to an extreme, 5 days of work I eat nothing, I'm the starving waiter, but on days off I'm ravenous, eat everything I can get my hands on. And as I'm not made of money I eat before we head out.
This is not the ideal, I like cooking for myself but I'm craving oysters, steak tartare, carpaccio, steamed mussels and clams, spicy papaya salads, beets, everything I don't get to eat...
Still, economy prevails.
First off we're looking for Brad's garnets. And I have the place now, the exact place, and we show up, it's less a beach than a shoreline, I find an exposure that might be what Brad was speaking of, not sure. But his description - the abundance of them, the size of them, it's at odds with what we're finding. Maybe the water's too high and they're down lower, maybe?
We try a few other beaches on the way south towards Creston.
One, a driveway down to a pier, we're accosted as we park buy a Kootenay Karen, she tells us it's all private property, not allowed, and then stays in her truck to see us off. Pulls off on the side of the road to ensure we're heading out.
Now - they're everywhere, we're getting overrun with these entitled bitches who think they own the beaches, the air, the right of way, talking to a friend she says "Probably an Albertan...".
We head on down to the smoky quartz digs, then, on a sudden whim I pull off on Tungsten Creek FSR, a few spurs and 12 KM later and we're at the top.
A little more eventful than that - the jeep, getting warm, decides (as it's prerogative) to not start, we're stuck halfway up for half an hour while it makes up it's mind...
To the top. And here there's giant quartz seam, given way by a few boulders on the overburden, we get out, dig, and - exactly the same material as we found at the Crystal Mountain, big, blocky decaying quartz, and dig a little, dig a lot, and finally we're rewarded with a couple of small crystals.
It's strange this, given the material I'd expect to bust into a great big pocket, find dozens, hundreds, clusters, but no. Just a couple of small points.
But there's a lot of digging to be done up here, and we're high enough up there's boulder fields to be walked over, looked at, and there's a dozen other undriven spurs to be explored, I'll be back...
(Boulder with pockets of citrine crystals)
From here to Wyndel, I've a lottomax ticket to buy. I have given up on winning, personally, anyone could win it, take the jackpot, I'm resenting the ongoing playing of "My chosen numbers", I'm beginning to suspect Uncles Flim and Flam of swindling me...
Wyndel gas, a farmers sausage, coffee, soft drink, a large ice cream that begins immediately melting, pouring down my arm, sleeve, into my lap as I'm driving towards Creston, sticky on the wheel, suspicious on my jeans, damn, but sooooo tasty...
From Creston up the pass, stop at the Mica place where I banged out the beryl, dig some more, looking for more.
It's boring work, this digging, and Chris conceals his boredom poorly. I've spoiled him with the finding, and I'm resenting that I have to compromise and pack it in early.
Tuesday's prospecting is done.
****
Wednesday, up and at-em, off thrifting. Castlegar, Rossland, Salmo - a complete shutout, not a nickel spent. Nada of interest. Back to Nelson, check the thrift shops here - nothing as well, but I note the angry huntsman is back at ... - a longstanding employee, always gave off the impression that he was trying to be "efficient", only he comes off as angry, he dresses - well, formerly like a huntsman - hard to describe, a D&D character, leather vest, gloves, there's a "style" going on there but now he seems to have changed his look to more of an angry Wizard...
Evening, take Stormy for Ice Cream down at lakeside park, chat, catch up, then home to sleep - it's back to work Thursday and there's easily another 10 weeks before I can eat or relax...
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The weekend (my weekend, an early day Monday, so the afternoon, Tuesday, Wednesday) - bills, errands, and numerous trips to the east shore.
I'm looking for the Garnets Brad spoke of, no luck as of yet, a dozen beaches combed, nada. But some good beach rocks, to be integrated into other projects.
Visit the Smoky Quartz place, dig for an hour, searching for pockets, I have a theory, yet to be proven, and I have yet to cough up the evidence. No pockets, but an unwelcome tick on the back of my neck, found before it latched but - always - how many did I miss?
Bloody hell.
Visit the Mica quarry, my fifth, sixth trip there, big (ish) books of mica, maybe an inch or two across, in the dirt, and I've dug holes, scraped the surface, can't find out why. I mean, I suspect a decomposed pegmatite, but then wouldn't the mica decompose first? Feldspar, after all, is a lot harder, and where's the smoky quartz?
Anyways, take my big boy pick and randomly trench, dig through the roots, gather my books of mica, and I finally find it, a beryl on feldspar, loose, it just falls off. About a centimeter in all directions, white, not at all gemmy, but 5 times here and I'm starting to find them - which means dig harder and deeper.
Staves, thick wood staffs to be collected for Wizarding purposes, Eagle feathers, a deer skull - I'll let it bleach out a little longer before I collect it, I've three months to gather my winter's work.
We'll see.
These days off, I want nothing more than a plate of tacos, food, put my feet up, read a book, people watch, but it's summer and make hay while the sun shines and before the ground freezes and there are too many holes to be dug, too many places to go, and I find myself paralyzed, unable to choose...
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Yesterday, driving to work. A beautiful day, and the traffic is unprecedented. Parades of bikers, BC, Alberta plates. hundreds of cars, plates from all over the USA, there's more people heading to Alaska than have ever lived in Alaska, from Wyoming, Idaho, Washington, Arizona...
The day starts off, busy and busier and, with all the beach seating, it's crazy. You can't keep up. Summer's here, and it's been so long, everyone is out and about - like a Saturday, busier even, like a Saturday on a long weekend, one lull in business, time for me to scarf a quick burger, I work in a restaurant and am starving to death Goddamnit!!!! Then back at it.
Tips, good, bad, ridiculously good. People are glad to see me. I wonder how rough your life is that you're glad to see me? Nonetheless, run, run, run, there's bills to be paid, and today, today I'm hurting. I'm getting too old for this.
3 Months to go.
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I'm sorry, but this may be my last post for a while.
Tomorrow I intend to win the LottoMax 70 Million Dollar Grand Prize, as well as a few of the subsidiary prizes (Maxmillions, Extra's, Etc.).
This wasn't an easy decision, but it made sense what with the restaurant getting crazy busy and all and me having other, more important things to do.
"Enough is Enough" as the saying goes, and as I've done my stint in poverty I'm overdue for a change of pace.
This is how I did it.
- I put myself into a hypnopompic state and visualized the winning lottery numbers. Actually I just let numbers drift into my field of view and wrote them down.
- I picked the numbers most likely to win based on the numbers that had won most often in the past.
- I assigned numbers to a deck of cards and did myself a 7 card Tarot reading. One card (the king of clubs) didn't fit, so I drew another.
3 Forms of divination. 3 winning tickets. And a lot of quick picks and Extras.
I have seen the Kingdom of the Lord and it is bounteous and if Ye should right your ways and Tarry with me I will show you wonders....
Following the purchase of said numbers and ceremonial burning of the tickets (used for my purchase) I returned home to recline in my poverty. I will miss it.
Actually, Nope, Nope I won't. Not one bit. Not a single iota.
First thing I intend to do with my winnings is to buy a couple of dozen of the high end sex dolls from the USA. Silicon. Top of the Line. Every sex, race and flavor. And then have a midsummer rave/solstice party at Ken's. Invite the entire town to attend.
And then? And then. You just wait and see...
(**Went outside for a fag in the gloaming. And there was a shooting star. So, yeah, I won. I WON!!!!)