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Cottonwood Market
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1377
Days off, spent prospecting - East Shore, looking and not finding. Have to return to the Smoky Quartz place, there's a bonanza there - but where precisely?
Up the Forestry Service Roads, nothing of interest.
Digging in the East Shore Lake gravels - Brad had mentioned some big garnets, but not here, not where I'm digging, and prying him to be a little more precise only to find that he's not so familiar with the East Shore, vague instructions like "by the old store" or "it's near a village..." don't narrow it down for me, but when I get the jeep back I have some Ideas...
One trip to Revelstoke, a few sideroads near there, but the jeep is overheating again, plumes of antifreeze gusting from the radiator, and I'm forced to take it easy or I'll be rolling baby back home again. That said, the discovery of some what I suspect to be "Tantalite" crystals in feldspar, rare enough, and curious enough that it might be worth finally staking a claim.
Saturday Mornings, Garage Sales, few enough, this year most people have decided merely to update their free piles. Thrifting, a fine pair of antique candlesticks, a new shape to my collection, if you saw them, unremarkable, but - see a few hundred and you start to recognize those that are distinct. A Patek Philippe - fine knock off, self winding, cobbled together features of different watches - dials, skeleton backs, logos, all under the "Patek Philippe" logo - clearly a knock off and I have to buy it, it reminds me of a Patek Philippe/Seiko I spotted trekking in Nepal, somebody was unsure which watch was the more expensive and so decided upon some ghastly hybrid that sported both logos. This year, so far, has been fine for watches.
Cottonwood Markey buying local, - dandy-lion jams, pickled spruce-tips, lilac jelly's, $25 Hot Sauce - WTF? I can't conceal my shock - goddamn, do you snort it or eat it my man? I should have asked the price first...!!!
Days off in the happiest place on earth.
***
Work, unpredictable. Indoor dining has resumed. The weather, sunny, nice, the patio full, tables scattered on the beach. The owner's son helps out, then takes a break to go upstairs and "work on the new menu".
"If your busy just call upstairs" he says.
What he means is:
"If your busy AND you see a meteor AND a giant dragon-lizard rises out of the lake AND a giant gorilla rises out of the other end of the lake AND they start to fight AND you see the ferry capsize THEN call me upstairs....".
He really doesn't want to be there. Nothing worse than having a family business that nobody in the family wants to run or work in.
The customers are good. Generous. Maybe because so far it hasn't been so crazy that I haven't been able to give good service. Maybe because finally having a place to live in Nelson means they're not noticing the pungent aroma of sleeping in a hammock. Maybe just because it's finally nice to see a familiar face. Or, what with the masks and all, it's easier to enjoy their meal without seeing my face.
The Jeep, needing yet another radiator, thermometer, clutch fan, in the shop for a week. A week overlapping 2 weekends, meaning more time at home, less on the road. Work, leave early because the buses are intermittent. Sunday's nonexistent, stick out a thumb, 2 consecutive rides get me there 10 minutes quicker than the bus.
This jeep, I've found my Kootenay Gold-Mine, only you need to be a mechanic to see the profits.
***
When it's slow Chris and me ride Ken. "Zoophilia" I ask Ken, by way of explaining his horse-play, "Ponyamorous" counters Chris. Brilliant.
This devolves to Ken being a "Neigh-sayer" and not-very-"Neigh-borly" and "Neigh-gative"....
Ken wants us to move on, but I'm thinking we haven't even begun to scratch the surface. And his birthday is coming...
Youth and Decrepitude
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 904
Changes, you notice them most in the young and in the old.
The restaurant is great for this. People you recognize as old one season are suddenly much, much older the next. And children quickly become young adults, young ladies who'd come in for a fries to-go and never tip suddenly begin eating in and tipping 20%. The changes are dramatic.
In people our own age we seldom notice change. They age pretty much like us, and unless we haven't seen them for a few years will probably recognize them pretty much as they were. But change accelerates when you get older, one slip or fall and decrepitude pounces.
Conspiracy Theories
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Ideas & Questions
- Hits: 999
I mean, the abundance of fringe theories regarding Covid. By which I don't mean the Wuhan Lab Leak theory, that was mine own theory shortly into the pandemic, discredited largely by Trump's support, and back again in fashion. Nothing destroys credibility like having an idiot agree with you. No, I mean the people that think it's all a hoax, an attempt by the government to seize control, "New World Order" and all that.
It is boggling to me that - given the abundance of news from various sources, people should choose to believe that it doesn't exist. That the lockdowns are an attempt by the government to control the populace. I mean, we have examples of countries that did it right - Australia, New Zealand. And how is it possible that politicians - whose intelligence ranges from minute to diabolical, depending on the country you live in - could orchestrate such a thing? I mean, to believe it's a hoax requires far more faith in government than believing it's legitimate.
Anyways, it's almost over. Breathe a sigh of relief. For the time being.
Clown School
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 801
I thought I'd blogged about her before, searching the blog, apparently not.
So I'll tell you about this person, famous local personage whom everyone knows and whom I met shortly after moving to the area. Maybe before I moved to the area, on one of my frequent trips, coming via the ferry to Nelson in my old Volvo 240 DL. Best car ever, although not so good for prospecting...
Anyways, a rainy May long weekend, coming from the Balfour terminal towards Nelson and what should I pass but a Circus Clown. Genuine. Bona Fide. Giant Clown suit, oversized clown shoes, clown make-up, tiny umbrella. There's no way I'm not picking her up. The only thing that could make this better would be a bloody hatchet in her free hand, but - you take what you can get and I've learned to compromise.
Pull over, she puffs over and tries to get in, once, bounces out, twice, bounces out, third time's a charm. Turns out the Clown suit is a tight fit.
Drive towards Nelson. We chat, she introduces herself, explains the clown suit. I didn't ask, didn't think it polite, you see a lot of way out outfits out here, but I'm just straight enough she thinks it necessary.
So she's a clown, off on her way to do some clowning.
Now, having lived here a few years I recognize her as a local personage, she's quit clowning and tried politics (a natural evolution I've come to recognize), still pass her once a week in town or on the highway.
Anyways, long story short - this isn't the clown I'm talking about.
No, this is about the Valley Shaman. Friend's told me about him before, I'm pretty sure I know who she means - I mean, how many Shaman can there be in the Valley, but - as it turns out - you'd be surprised. So the Shaman had been invited to her workplace to do a cleansing. Lots of Shaman stuff. Sage, smudging, dowsing, pegs thrown down in corners, rocks, chanting, drumming, more dowsing, minor pyrotechnics. Friend is impressed. How could you not be?
Anyways, friend is discussing Shaman with co-worker, who - as it turns out - knows him. Co-worker is not the person in the first story above.
- "Yeah, me and '....(shaman)', we graduated from Clown school together back in...."
And I'm thinking. You know what I'm thinking. How many clowns are there out here?
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