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In view of the Summit
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
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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:
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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.
The end of days...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
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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...
Battle Royale
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Film
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Japanese, very clever. By which I mean there's no predicting where this goes - which is in it's favor. I quite enjoyed this.
Keys
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Found
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Garage sales, over the weekend, a few things. Pliers, tools, a tool-box, a couple of old gauges (to be used in mixed media), and a box of old keys:
Mailbox keys, bike-lock keys, safety-deposit box keys, clock keys, cutlery drawer keys, padlock keys, skeleton keys, one (lower right) fashioned from a nail, some with interesting decorative features. Not as cool as the keys I once-upon-a-time picked up in the UK, but cool nonetheless. Now to get crafting...
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