Sunshine in the Okanagan

It made a better chair then a cabinet

Turkish hookah night

The weather was beautiful when I arrived to Kelowna and went straight to my favorite golf course for lunch. I then hit up the lemonade stand run by my sisters and their adorable friends.

My Mom and her Shauna were getting handy with a couple of Corona’s and some unassembled furniture. I love building things, so I was eager to help. I heard my mom whispering to Shauna “this is going to be another perogie incident.”She was referring to how thrilled we were the time we decided to make homemade perogies.

It ended up being so much bloody work and frustration.

At least this time we were basking in sunshine instead of carbohydrates.

We made a valiant effort assembling the cabinet and chairs. The chairs looked great, but the cabinet only got to a point where it could be relied on for aesthetics.

There was some swearing. There was some frustration, and if I might add – the instructions were horrendous.

Sunburned and defeated, we paired what little sense of accomplishment we had left with a Mission Hill Cabernet Sauvignon.

Halfway through that bottle and sometime after UFC was over, I decided it was Turkish night. I played Turkish music and hauled out my hookah and scarf from Turkey. I lost the coals and we ended up using a briquette to like the hookah…this is something I would not recommend.

2 Double shots of moonshine in Alaska

How could I ever leave the north? I seriously think about moving here one day and raising lovely children who don’t know about Ed Hardy.

I have been having such an incredible time. I work hard, make the most of my days and I have met amazing people.

Great north helicopter photo shoot anyone?

Help! I am trapped inside a Kokanee label and I’m getting paid.

This is one of our smaller camps – A fraction of the mountain that I have to organize.

Excuse me while I am a tourist for a moment.

I strategically lowballed my estimate for the “how many bears will we see on our way to Stewart” game. I lost the game and saw 7 bears.

I took my passport and stole a bike from the hotel I didn’t stay at and rode it to Alaska from Stewart, B.C.

I stopped at this store to buy candied salmon.

It was closed and I caught my purse getting off the bike, collapsing 90 degrees towards the ground. Thankfully, it was the first real ground I had fallen on in 5 weeks, so I was in good spirits. The camp I work in is covered in snow if you haven’t caught on to that yet.

I rode my bike as far north as Hyder, Alaska would take me. I sat down and listened to my iPod for a while. On my way out a guy drove up, “did you hear the gunshots?” he asked. “No,” I replied “I had my headphones in.”

“Oh, well you should be cautious up here.”

“For what?” I asked? Trying to remember the protocol for encountering a bear.

He disclosed that people were shooting, the Hyderites. The first thing that came to my mind probably shouldn’t have been – “I wonder if they would let me have a shot?”

Next I went to the bar to get Hyderized. That’s a double shot of moonshine “drink it in one go or you buy the bar a round, you have to keep it down, etc. etc.”

In a grunt, the aged bartender said “let’s see how much you wasted” flipping our shot glasses over and lighting the residue on fire. Mine barely lit, while Mattieu’s burned for seconds.

I then got double Hyderized and drove my bike back to Canada.

Now I am just waiting in the hotel for the guys to get back from their grand moving-heavy-equipment-across-a-glacier adventure.

They’re always ripe with stories.

A mining exploration camp

The mining exploration camp I work in – May 2012

This is my sled and this is where I live. Some of my most dramatic moments have been spent here over the 3 seasons I have resided here in camp.

Someone recently told me that our boss joked about building a crying room for girls.

We laughed about it, then faded into a very honest moment where we recognized the seriousness behind his suggestion. It is that kind of place.

Fortunately, as of late, my biggest upset has been the weather. I feel like a disillusioned kid every time the sun goes away.

I’m insensitive

Today in the office, someone started choking on a carrot. This man chomps vegetables in a quiet room for an average of 1-1.5 hours a day. Statistically speaking, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.

Turning red, he coughed out “I was eating carrots” and all I thought was “you never stop eating carrots.”

I’m sorry, but if he’s going to compulsively demolish a week’s supply of vitamins over my shoulder while talking about expense reports– that’s probably not going to be the defining moment in my life where I jump in a rescue someone from choking.

I woke up to this beautiful sunrise from my bedroom window this morning.

At door #2

I had a surprise trying to get out of the bunkhouse today. The funny part is that this photo doesn’t even depict how deep the snow is because there is a plywood wall sticking out to deflect the snow from the door.

Day 24 at the office

The first sunny morning after a 3 day storm

That “Avalanche Zone – No Stopping” sign is in front of my office

The roof of our outhouse is 3 feet below snow

From inside the outhouse you can see icicles formed in the snow overhang

I have nothing enthusiastic to report on.

Spring is a myth

May 7th, 2012 in my mining exploration camp

“I can’t even imagine a snow storm right now”, my mother exclaimed. She took time out of her day, as most people do, to remind me that it was 24 degrees in Kelowna. It was May 7th and I used both hands to wipe almost a foot of snow off my quad.

When I left the bunkhouse, where there used to be a step down, there is now a snow step up.

Good thing I kind of love it here. Today, anyhow.