Back to Normal ...

Old Trucks at the Atlas Mine site, Drumheller, AB

The progression of the cold virus through the travel party went like this: first Kim got it, then Bruce and then me. 

I was back in Toronto, getting acclimatized to the marked increase in humans and noticeable absence of smoke and still not over my jet lag, when my nose started, as Kim's had, to run like a tap. 

Phooey. 

I've been dragging my ass all week.

Daisy the Bichon Frise and Amanda.

Under these circumstances, you'd think a puppy might help. 

Sure enough, my administrative assistant - the one who was hit by a car during my first week at my new job - dropped by on Monday morning with what looked, at first glance, like a stuffed toy animal. 

The puppy-sprung commotion in the office has not subsided.

Eyeball Update

Bruce is scheduled for his final eye surgery on Monday. They will go in, get the oil bubble out and replace it with a comparable quantity of air which will gently exit on its own.

The hope is that Bruce's vision will settle back down into something like what it was before the retina shredded. 

We'll see.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen

Banff's Rocky and Bullwinkle Corner

If only I tweeted this.

Wind, Water, Rocks and Gravity

The HooDoos in Drumheller. Don't let this shot fool you; the place was swarming with humans.

In the badlands, ancient glacial melt waters carved out a barren valley exposing a hundred million years of erosion and deposit.

In the mountains, modern glaciers are engaged in the same project.

The Natural Bridge on the Kicking Horse River: once a waterfall, now a torrential chasm, eventually a low rapids and then, if there is still water flowing, a broad pool.

Takakkaw Falls in Yoho National Park: seasonal glacier melt slowing working its way through the mountain.

And I Feel Fine

After we left Drumheller on Monday, August 14, we followed the smoke of BC forest fires to Banff, where it made crepuscular rays visible over Mount Rundle.

The smoke followed us to Lake Louise the following morning. The crowds gather so early, we had to arrive at 7:00 a.m. 

I scraped the above photo of Lake Louise off the Internet. It is copyright Getty Images. I wanted something to compare and contrast with almost the same view at around 8:15 on the morning of August 15 2018.

We are now vacationing in an officially declared state of emergency. There are not armed guards everywhere. Instead, we're in Whistler, where the average age is less than 35 and the average nationality is Australian. 

Karen

The Dinosaur Trail

Welcoming Party: One of the first things you see when you enter the Tyrrell Museum is this model of an adolescent Tyrannosaurus Rex. He's just a kid. But look at those eyes.

Our two full days in Drumheller took us to all the points of interest on what they call the Dinosaur Trail, a 48-kilometer loop affording several views of the badlands. And then we went the other way to see a few more things.

The landscape formed 10 to 15 thousand years ago when massive glacial run off carved out layers of alluvial and other deposits on vast former inland seas. 

Also carved out were areas called bone yards where large colonies of ancient beings suddenly met their end 70 million years ago. Then they were happenstantially encased in something both soft and anoxic, and *presto* you got yourself some fossils.

These two bad things that happened long ago combined to make one good thing: work for local palaeontologists that restored the economy of the little town of Drumheller, Alberta.

As we know, mammals outlived the last worst day the dinosaurs ever had. A joke from the locals as they wish you a good day as a tourist is: "Don't let the dinosaurs bite." Little danger of that, but a mule deer kick might set you back.

Young buck mule deer in a canola field by the Orkney Lookout.

Or twisting your ankle on a prairie dog burrow.

Prairie dog in the Drumheller Municipal Cemetery, which was riddled with burrows. All of Drumheller seemed to be one big prairie dog colony.

In a novel effort to diversify the economy, two avid collectors, one of whom is employed in the entertainment industry, have opened up the Trekcetera Museum. Here you can find some Star Trek stuff, along with an uncategorizable mishmash of other stuff - all interesting, but as coherently connected as longhorn beetles and rim shots. There's American Civil War uniforms and saddles, Denzel Washington's costume from the Magnificent Seven, two of Mimi Bobeck's costumes from the Drew Cary show and Titanic memorabilia, to name just a few.   

Captain Janeway's uniform from Star Trek Voyager.

You can find antiques too. We stopped at the Rustic Red Barn.

The welcoming committee at Rustic Red Barn Antiques was comprised of four dogs, including a golden lab that growled at Bruce. The growl meant "I am displeased that you are not petting me." 

There used to be 139 coal mines in the Drumheller valley, all overworking, underpaying and endangering their employees so housewives could cook meals and heat their homes.

We all know natural gas won that battle. The last standing example of the bygone era is the Atlas Coal Mine, now a mouldering pile of near-rubble, invoking the absolute lack of romance of hard rock fossil fuel extraction.

Kim had an idea about how to bring the industry back to life: 

Thanks for reading!

Karen

Drumheller?

Next to the anthropomorphized ceratopsian with the improbable accessories, Kim and Carol smile in spite of the punishing heat, and Carol keeps rocking Lennard Taylor.

Yes, Drumheller, where there's lots of work for the local teenagers at the many hotels and attractions in this otherwise tiny (8,000 people), sleepy, formerly-burgeoning-but-now-spent coal mining town.

Now it's dinosaurs, their fossilized remains and the many fine products - toys, t-shirts - featuring dinosaurs' fossilized remains that drive the economy of the town where Mike Myers' sister lives and teaches art classes.

What're we doing here?

Eating well for one thing:

Kim pretends she's going to eat the whole thing... That's the "Mammoth Burger" at Bernie and the Boys Bistro at the corner of Fourth and Third. It's the house trademark burger - apparently someone once ate one in less than ten minutes. It took the five of us longer than that, but it was a truly fine burger. The fries and milkshakes both showed the skill and quality of a lost age.

A local named Lothar (his bona fide true and own name) leads Ghost Walks on Friday and Saturday nights. 

Bruce gets all the fun roles: when we were in Italy, he got to be the king of France. In Drumheller, he was Annie, a six foot four inch three hundred pound bartender who made friends with the local constable and was his enforcer ever after.

We're here for three nights hanging out and having fun. But this is the twenty-first century, so the heat is unbelievable and the horizons are smudged with smoke from BC forest fires.

Thanks for reading!

Karen 

Captain Oreo

Fuzzy maguffin safe in his pen.

In third and fourth year undergrad, I helped make ends meet by house sitting for my professors. Nothing ever went wrong but I was always a little unnerved nonetheless by being accountable for someone else's stuff and, sometimes, someone else's pet.

I grew skilled and confident in my semi-profession of house sitter. And, like knowing how to ride a bike, I have kept those skills to this day.

So, when Bruce subcontracted to me for one day his commitment to take care of our friends' rabbit while they travelled in France, I felt up to the task. 

The charge at issue is Captain Oreo - a little two-colour bunny with a better name than anyone.

I headed over to Riverdale last Saturday morning, five pages of written instructions (not kidding) in hand. 

The old feeling of being slightly unnerved came along with me.

I have trouble with locks. Always have had. So it took me three tries and two looks at the written instructions before I got in the door.

Once inside, I knew exactly where the bunny was and what to. 

Bruce and the instructions both said to let the Captain lollop around the house while I changed his bedding, cleaned up rabbit poo, filled his water and feed bowls and prepared a rich, delicious half baby carrot for his lunch.

Bruce had included the detail that there was no concern about the bunny going up and down the stairs in the house, because both had been blocked off.

I let the Captain out of his cage. He took off to scoot around the house. I set about my chores. 

I had just put the Captain's refreshed water bowl down when I heard a *WHOMP*.

The treacherous cunning bunny had knocked down the picture -- canvas stretched on a wooden frame -- blocking the stairs to the second floor. 

"Hey!" I said.

I ran over to the stairs. Captain Oreo had climbed about halfway up.

"Hey! Hey!" I said again, and the Captain picked up speed as he climbed the rest of the stairs. I realized that yelling at the rabbit was a bad idea.

I climbed the stairs. I got to the top in time to see the Captain's tail disappearing under the bed in the master bedroom.

A montage played in my head. Me reaching under one side of the bed as the rabbit escaped out the other side. Me looking in one direction as the rabbit moseyed by in the other. Me opening a dresser drawer and the rabbit popping out ...

I abandoned the strategy of chasing the rabbit. Bruce had said the Captain could be lured with food, so I went downstairs, put the picture back in place to block the stairs so I would know where he was and finished cleaning his cage.

I went to the fridge to get a juicy tasty lettuce leaf to lure him and ... there was the goddam rabbit, in the hallway. He'd pushed the picture out of the way. I took one step toward him. He turned and ran back up the stairs.

Resolved to be better and smarter than a three-pound rodent, I laid a trail of lettuce bits on the floor for him leading from the stairs to his cage.

That was too clever. He got the first bit, noisily ate it and then just sat there. 

Stupid rabbit.

So, I shook his food bowl freshly charged with a small amount of rabbit pellets in his cage and he came running.

I took this week's picture after I'd locked the Captain in his cage. I sent it to the travelling family so they could see that I had not killed their rabbit.

Thanks for reading!

Have a great week!

Karen