Jeff and the Wolves

Canis Lupis is the most feared species of the Canine family. But is this fear justifiable? I have not heard of very many attacks on humans, but still, if a wolf really wanted to, it could sneak up behind you as softly as the sound of settling snow, and with one quick maneuver remove your trachea.

Saturday March 19th there was the biggest full moon in 19 years so we headed out to the national park to do some camping. I was pretty interested in seeing the big wheel of cheese but I was more excited at the prospect of seeing wolves.
During the day we got to check out some otters at the narrows and we fed the whiskey jacks, but the real fun came with nightfall. With the extra large moon out competing Polaris and lighting up the landscape, I headed out for a hike. The others opted to stay behind at camp and so I struck out by my lonesome.

I had not been gone ten minutes when I heard that familiar howl that coaxes your hairs to stand on end. As soon as the echo of the first receded, the chorus of death began. These were not distant howls I might add. They were close enough to produce a heart rate that would put a Charlie Sheen cocaine binge to shame. In false desperation I picked up a large stick to give myself the sense of having a companion for the walk. On we sauntered, this time in silence for a number of minutes. I was still on edge though. Always weary, always wondering, always turning my head towards footsteps already tread.

Off in the spruce I began to perceive moving shadows. At times I have a strong imagination, but at times I have learnt to trust that so called imagination. I darted through the trees all the while feeling as though hungry eyes were watching my every movement. I could not bring myself to look behind, but eventually sense overcame apprehension and I turned my head. Behind me stood Canis Lupis. There were two together, watching me, as tall as my shoulder, as white as the snow. I was frozen in time, my eyes did not move from the magnificent animals and I stood there, matching my heart rate with the fast panting of the beasts. Once again, sense entered my nervous system and I awoke from the standoff. I turned my body around and began to pick up my pace, not knowing my destination, but knowing that I wanted to get there as quickly as possible. Then to my right, I saw a quick flash against the white back drop. This time two others appeared, as dark as night, twenty feet away, teeth barred to the gleam of the super moon. I began to panic, I looked hopelessly to the left, only to see the white pair, turning around I was frighteningly surprised to find myself face to face with a third pair. I did a 180 and began to run. To my relief I spotted an old mature White Spruce and it took no convincing to get there as fast as possible. The sounds of hot breath and murder chased me up the trunk of the tree. As I clawed from branch to branch I looked down, only to see how close I truly had come to being dinner.

But all was not over. The wolves had located their prey. There was no reason to hurry off anywhere. They began to circle the tree, repeating their chorus of death for all to hear. It is at times like this that you really wish you had not forgotten your cell phone in the glove compartment of your 89 Volkswagen. You could tell the wolves were trying to figure out how to get me out of that tree. Their body language confirmed that I was certainly dinner. As I began regretting my stupidity, the large dominant white female, looked at the two younger black wolves and barked a quick order. At that the two left, leaving the four to guard my escape.

I must have logged half an hour in that tree but it was certainly the slowest half hour I have ever passed. Chronos Greek God of time had replaced the sands of Hydra in his hour glass with Alberta’s tar sand. As I sat there mentally preparing a last will and testament, I heard that familiar howl which signaled the return of the two younger wolves. With inquisitiveness, I heralded their return. Where had they gone? Are more returning? Suddenly I could see them once again. As powerful as ever they entered my line of sight but this time it looked as if the one on the right were carrying something on his back. Sure as shit, this wolf had returned with the means to manufacture my demise. As they neared the tree I could see that he was carrying another animal atop his shoulder. I could make out a head and a tail, but it was certainly not another wolf. The moon may have been bright but at that distance the false light adopted shapes and not details. Then as the wolf reached the tree, I saw what my fate had in store. I was doomed. The likes of JeffM would be no more. My bones would build the broth of a homo sapien stew. My fears were confirmed…. The wolves had brought a beaver to chop down the tree.


April Fools!

National Park and St. Louis Bridge

It was a full moon last night. Supposedly the closest one has been to our planet in a number of years as well. So we went out to the P.A National Park to listen to the wolves and check out the moon. We fed Whiskey Jacks and were flabbergasted by snow fleas. Obviously it was a good time. I will post about the wolves later as I have a story for you!

Bye Bye winter.

I can smell that crisp Western wind in the air. It is time to say goodbye to the coldest and longest winter that my memory serves up. Not that I'm complaining though because with each passing winter day my lust for spring has grown. The Cuckoo bird is soon to make its way North and the banks of the rivers will once again crumble against the rushing waters. One more month of school and it will be time to get work. There are nations to conquer and maidens to rescue. It is time for the sun to beat down my weathered brow.

YEAH TOAST!

This is how I make toast. Actually this post is not about making toast(rhyming intended). It is about my never ending tank of propane. Well at least I thought it was never going to end. For 27 dollars worth of C3H8 that I bought in America when me and my pal Josh went winter travelling last year, I was able to go through an entire BBQ season and 7 entire months of cooking every single day in the trailer. I'm thoroughly amazed. It finally ran out just last week.

The opportunity to become the wanderer has gone the way of the melting snow for me. Oh well, there are still adventures to be had and I certainly can't complain about being back in Regina for the summer. Thanks to everyone that was looking out for me.

Time to take this full time

Well there is a summer job opportunity for someone to blog about the amazing places Saskatchewan has to offer. Sounds like the job I was born to do. The ministry is going to come up with a short list of candidates and then the province will vote on who they want to be their wanderer. I will be sure to let you all know when the voting begins.

Here is the the video

Best of

With this job opportunity I wanted to take the time here to post my favorite pictures from the blog.

An entire week of learning and adventure

I just got back from winter camp today. We were privileged with accommodations at Christopher Lake for the last five days while we learned all about fish netting, water quality testing and wilderness survival.

Christopher is a gorgeous little lake about 40 minutes North of Prince Albert inside the Boreal forest. We were treated to three square meals a day and a cabin full of bunk beds. I was in a much more posh situation than normally. I had running water!

I never went to camp as a kid so this was a new experience and it truly ruled. I really did not want to leave. Good friends, guitars and lots of learning. It seemed like everyone at camp was a secretly a musician so we had five straight nights of campfire guitar playing and loud singing. There was one old toothless man who truly ruled the roost. His guitar playing was spot on and when he sung at your campfire, every camp for half a mile could hear his voice.

We learned how to net fish and classify the population. We learned how not to tie knots when using the jigger (used to run the net under the ice. I tied the one set of knots and our instructor tied the other. When it became apparent we lost the jigger I became awful nervous. But as we pulled the loose rope out of the ice the truth came out and my knot had stood the test of time. We also did a bunch of water quality testing on the surrounding lakes that we will take back to the classroom.

I also learned that I will never buy a power ice auger. A sharp hand held auger is just as fast and ten times as reliable. It is also lighter, gives you a workout and you don't have to waste money on the ever expensive gasoline.

Wilderness survival was once again a blast. Our instructor was far to easy on us and gave us tarps, extra blankets, poly and even an axe and saw. Our shelter had an awning! we set up the poly so we could roll it down when night came so we could keep in the heat and keep out the smoke. We hardly needed a fire it was so warm in there.
Give me a saw and a tarp any day and I'll build you the Vatican.

Play that little diddy

John is almost back from being in South America. I am very excited to be making music soon once again.

Ice Fishing

You can not go very far in this province without finding world class fishing. Sometimes the fish forget to bite though and so you decide to take a break for a photo opportunity with the dogs. Here we are at Echo Lake. Today I slept in and missed fishing with these guys again and it just so happened that Brett pulled up a fourteen pound Northern Pike in my absence. My loss. No sleeping in next time.

Here is a better picture of our camp. Note my handy cooking pole. It is tied to a nearby tree on an angle. Then I made a pot holder out of a forked sapling. Because the cook pole is placed on an angle I can easily move any pot up or down, closer or farther away from the fire.

Bush camping

My homework for the weekend was to go out and build a bush shelter. Excitement built in my head as my thoughts turned to the obvious idea, "If I build a shelter, I might as well sleep in it." So I rassled up 5 other friends from school and we went out winter camping. These are some pictures of the lean to I built. Hopefully I will get some more pictures of the camp from the others that went. The day was warm so we got a little bit wet but nothing a fire could not dry out. Everyone else opted to sleep beside a fire with their shelters but I decided it would not be cold enough to warrant a fire for myself. I think it only went down to around minus 15. I would have slept like a log, except for the creaking birch tree that loomed above my head and kept threatening to make a pancake out of me and my dog. Now that the shelters are built though we will probably head back there for some ice fishing and camping. this time round we only had enough time to build shelters until the darkness came and it was time to throw verbal bullshit at one another across the flames.

My lover, Helios.

It is all worth enduring. After two months of darkness, the sun has arrived to greet me once again on my morning traverse to school. It is a hard world to live in when you leave in darkness and come home to darkness. Not much room is left for playtime and happiness. But alas. Helios has finally brought the sun back to me. Spring is around the corner. I can smell it in the air. A perfect weekend for some ice fishing and a winter camp. Three cheers for the sun, and the life that it brings us.

Muskrat

This post needs a late pass from the hall supervisor, but regardless, here it is. We did not successfully harvest any beavers, but we did get a muskrat. It is possible that the beaver moved on from what looked like an active lodge. Muskrats seem to have filled the void where our friend from the nickel once played. There will be more lodges to try out though, in fact I stumbled upon one in the quarter section north of where I am living, I just need to try to get permission from the owner. This one is certainly active, so active in fact that the ice above a run was only an inch thick.

If all goes well I will get to try my hand at fleshing and tanning this month.

All Flesh is Grass

I recently finished reading a copy of The Broken Snare,the story of one man's deep end dive into the world of foothills ranching in the fifties. It follows the narrator's life from his escape to a romanticized world of simplicity and hard work, to the encroachment of mankind, progress, and it's quest for oil on the land that he worked so dearly to break and improve both for the benefit of his cattle and the surrounding wilderness. The man becomes heartbroken when he realizes that progress has no plan for him in its undertaking to subdue the natural world. He is eventually forced out and returns to the prairies, a broken man.

The intent of this post however is not a book review. I was particularly moved by one phrase the narrator kept repeating. "All flesh is grass." If you are not familiar, this is a passage from the old testament of Isaiah 40:6. Now I am not a christian man, but i do hold the belief that every religion may have something to offer if you look past its inherent flaw.

All flesh is grass, gives rise to the idea that man is simply transitory. He may be here now but he will not always be here. The grass however will. Nature will outlive us, just as it nourishes us and gives rise to our existence. Man is however often ignorant of this. The prevalent thought tends that we are the controllers of the world, that nature will crumble under our iron fist. Our plows and sheers are the creators of grain for the people of the world, but the real fact is that these same devices will reek havoc if allowed to function unchecked as commander rather than coworker. The rancher was able to recognize his place within the ecology of his land, and because of this, he watched over it, and took care of it, reveling in all its glory. It is an important lesson. Nature is here for us, but we also have to be here for nature.

Beaver

Yesterday after classes we went out to set some beaver traps. We ended up finding two runs leading away from a single lodge. To find the runs you drill holes with an ice auger until you find a spot in the water that is significantly deeper than the sorrounding area. This run is like a beaver highway, going from their lodge to thier food pile about 5 feet out from the lodge. You then slip a conibear trap into the run, fastened to a spruce stick, and wait. We are venturing out to the tundra once again this afternoon. Perhaps I will be munching on a beaver burger 8 hours from now. Hopefully!

warm winter breeze

It is nice that the cold snap is over and I can sense that a warm winter breeze from the west is starting its migration. I have been doing a lot of snowshoeing lately. Much more fun then skiing because you can go where ever you want and essentially get lost looking to pot something for evenings dinner. Yesterday I managed to find a treat.

Today the wildlife teacher is taking out a handful of us to go do some trapping. I think we will be setting up some power snares for coyotes and there are also a couple beavers on Ducks Unlimited land that the organziation wants trapped, so we will be doing some underwater sets for that. Maybe we will put out some muscrat sets as well. I forgot my fucking camera today though, but I will be sure to remember it when we check on the traps later in the week.

A story for the ages.

This is an old story, but it is winter, and thus I have no new stories.

The year was 2007, or was it 2008? Anyway, it was a few years ago, when I was just a pup. I had just bought a canoe the winter before, with great plans to go adventuring that summer. I dipped the paddle a couple times in a safe environment that spring, but never for more than a couple hours. This was the sum of my canoeing experience. The sum of my map reading skills were also at zero and so was the sum of my compassing abilities.

So with this basket of knowledge, I tied up my canoe and asked my roommate to drive me up to Besnard lake. From here I would navigate to the Churchill, hang around on the province's mightiest river for a week looking at the rock paintings, and then navigate back down into Clam Lake. So I took to the wide open waters of Besnard, barely able to stay afloat by myself, let alone navigate my big red buddy. But it was not all bad news, while the first part of the trip took longer than expected, the scenery was impeccable and I eventually made my way to the outlet of Besnard Lake. Here I expected a nice little river to take me into the Churchill. This is when I wish I had gained some skills in map reading. sure there was a river, but it certainly was not navigable for someone like me. Instead I faced a daunting, damn near 2km portage with a heavy canoe and a load of gear....alone. The next day though was not so bad. I woke up to a group of territorial hissing otters trying to scare me off their island. These furious beasts had no fear of me as they tried to frighten me out of their home.

So I spent the next week going around the Churchill looking at the paintings, doing some fishing, and just generally enjoying myself. I launched my first ever set of rapids, and got to view some other sets that I would not ever dare to challenge. I eventually neared the part of the trip where I would find the portage into a set of lakes that would take me into Clam. As my luck would have it (or more accurately, my lack of map reading skills), I could not find it. Just as I lost all hope of ever seeing the urban world again, I floated over to a set of rapids to do some fishing before the evening wore on. Then out of the corner of my eye I saw an 18 foot aluminum boat bound over this set of rapids that would strike fear into even Satan himself. They floated over to me.... "Where is your queen,?" a couple of elderly Cree men ask. "She is not crazy enough to come with me," was the reply. We exchanged some more small talk. they asked where I was headed and then invited me to their camp for some fresh moose burgers where they would take a look at my map. How could I refuse? So we pull the canoe helplessly crossways on top of the boat and I am told to hang on. An eagle would have reckoned from above that we were a small aircraft trying to helplessly take off, we must have been a sight for sore eyes.

One pull and the motor is up and going. We veer forward and in the distance looms another set of rapids that dearly frightened me. But my main man on the rudder held no such fear. He knew where the rocks were, he has probably taken this route 300 times in his life. I was totally flabbergasted, never had I seen such skill.

As I write this, I am salivating over those tasty moose burgers, so on to the feast. It was amazing, they threw me a coke and all the hamburgers I could shake a stick at. I was saved, mentally and physically. After some lie swapping and tall tales from a man who had been living and trapping in the bush for 60 odd years we pulled out my maps. "Oh!," he says, "that's where your trying to go...the trail is my trap line, and it starts right outside my backdoor here."

I'm not sure if a stroke of luck has ever hit me so hard. I would have never found this place if I had not found them. Not only was my trip saved but I had one of my most memorable feasts of my life and met an individual that I will never forget. When things get you down, right down to the ground, just remember, and I know this is cliché, but the only way from there is up.

In the company of friends.

Back home for the holidays and I feel as if I am the great Atlas and have been relieved of my heavenly duties. Not that I have carried a great weight in the last four months, in fact you could suggest that I have carried no weight at all, but the amount of relief I feel to be back home is astronomical. It is apparent that I have missed all my friends, and that these people keep my mind and soul from escaping my body and heading for the loony bin.

How much of one's health is psychological and what is the healing power of the company of love and friendship. If I have learned anything in the past two months, it is that the mind plays very powerfully on the body. I have begun to notice that when I am among friends, my health issues begin to hide from me, even though I stay up late telling lies on bar stools and eat whatever is placed in front of me.

So here is to my friends. Know that I appreciate you. Happy holidays to all! The sun is about to make its fiery return as the days begin to grow longer.

Do you know what this is?

Hopefuly it will show up on your computer. Scroll down to find the answer!
















































This is where a bird has hopped along in the snow and then has taken off like a shot into the air, it's wings imprinting a perfectly symmetrical pattern onto the snow. I took this photo the other day along the back 40 while on a hike with the pup.