Baker Lake Vignette #240 (Parka)

(Originally released February 18, 2005)  

The weather finally relented and gave us all the mid

week blizzard we so rightly deserved.  At exactly 5:00

PM on Wednesday the second of February the winds

picked up to about 50km/hr.  With the recent

accumulation of snow on the ground the visibility

quickly dropped down to zero as the wind continued to

pick up, eventually reaching speeds of 110 km/hr.

It's what you might call “a perfect storm”.  That is

because it developed in strength overnight making a

school cancellation inevitable.  And to our further

delight the storm raged on through the rest of

Thursday and all day Friday giving us a four day

weekend.  After four straight weeks of uninterrupted

work it provided us with a break that we all needed.

    The only real problem with such a generous gift is

how to use it to it's best advantage.  The first day

off you are somewhat shell shocked.  You can't

actually believe you don't have to go to school.  And

it's for this reason alone you don't jump out of bed

and pour yourself a great big mug of beer.  Between

pinching yourself and looking out to see if you can

tell if the blizzard is really going to continue all

day, you wonder what you will do with yourself.

Unfortunately the list of things that “I will do later

when I get some free time” is way to long.  It can't

be done in a day so why even bother trying to tackle

it at all.  I mean the moving boxes will eventually

unpack themselves.  And as for cleaning the house....

c'mon this is a free day off of work not a free day to

do work.  Before you know it it's 12:00 and you are

still sitting on the couch with your coffee looking

out at the weather and saying how lucky you are not to

have to work today and man it's great to have all this

free time.  But of course the day is half over now.

Damn, I've only got a half day left to not work, I'd

better find a good way to waste my time and quick.

    If I fall into “slacke'r's block” as I inevitably do,

I simply lie down and read a book.  Better to be

reading a book if you can't think of anything else to

do.  It's somewhat satisfying in that it's relaxing

and also it feels like you are doing something.  Yes,

I'm expanding my mind.  And after half a week teaching

high school I'm badly in need of a good mind

stretching.  The first thing I notice about my day off

is how bright it is outside.  For the last few months

I have not seen the sun at all except for weekends.

For some reason the middle of the day on a free day

off is spectacularly bright.  I get to thinking

“wouldn't it be nice if I never had to go back to work

ever again.  I could spend every day curled up on the

couch basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun,

every once in a while waking from my sleep to tackle

another chapter in the book I am currently reading.”

I'm assuming I only feel that way because I know it

will never happen.  Anyways before I know it, it's

getting on near the middle of the afternoon.  Hey, I

would be finishing school by now.  Is my free day

really over?  How come it seems so much longer when

I'm actually at work.  How come leaving the house at

7:00 AM and getting home some time after 6:00 PM seems

like such a long time when work is involved and here

it has been frittered away in barely enough time to

get through 20 pages of my book.

    Of course there is a lot more happening besides

reading a book.  There is food preparation and eating

to be done.  And to tell the truth I am actually doing

some work on the typical snow day, I'm usually making

beer or wine.  It's, by far, chore #1.  Ok, so that's

where my morning went to.  I forgot that.  Must have

been all the sampling I was doing.  By the end of the

day, feeling like my free day was not put to it's best

use, I vow to do a better job tomorrow if only the

storm can last.  Tomorrow I really will do all those

things I've been putting off.  I couldn't do them

today, there just wasn't really the time.  But

tomorrow... for sure.  All the bargaining and weather

website checking finally pays off and the next day we

do indeed get an extension of the blizzard.  Well

now's the time to get caught up on all those Baker

Lake Vignettes I've been meaning to write.  Like the

one about what I do on snow days (been there, done

that before) or the one about what a pain in the ass

the kids at school are to me(done that to death I'm

sure).  Ah forget it, I've got nothing new to say, may

as well just do some reading.  The weekend is coming

anyways an I get some work done then..

    But there is something nagging at me.  There really

is something I'm supposed to  be doing when I get a

snow day.... Hmmm, what is it? ...... The kids last

year wanted me to make curtains for the portable.  I

told them I would as soon as we got a snow day.  Well

we had about 10 snow days last year and I managed to

find an excuse every time as to why I never got around

to it.  “Well I checked at home and I didn't have the

right material.  Unfortunately I couldn't buy any new

material because of the blizzard.”  ... “But Tyler,

the stores were still open.”  .... “And what?  You

would have me risk my life out in a blizzard so you

can have a few scraps of fabric hanging on the walls

protect your precious eyes from the sun?”  Or I would

say “No use making curtains at this point, there isn't

any sun anyways.  I'll make them when it starts to get

brighter out.”  Kids aside, I had this feeling that

there was still something even more important that I

had been putting off for some time.  Oh yeah, I

remember, I was supposed to make a parka for myself.

    Now here was something that really needed to be done

and for a couple of  reasons.  First of all my old

parka was pretty torn up and loosing it's insulation

value.  I got a new down jacket recently and I needed

to make a shell for it before the dog ripped it to

shreds jumping up on me.  Also I was planning on

taking some outdoor courses at the upcoming teacher

conference in Iqaluit and I needed my clothing

ensemble to be top notch (both warm and stylish).

With a couple of weeks to go I'd better get on it or I

would either be freezing my ass of or looking like

some kind of hobo.  Add to that the fact that I spend

over a hundred dollars on material, patterns and other

sewing odds and ends and you see that there is a

significant investment here at stake.  So now it's

Friday, the second day off.  Should I get started on

this project or save it for the weekend. (Just as an

interesting aside.... since I started composing this

vignette yesterday another blizzard came to town and

it's now Friday again in actual fact, and school has

once again been canceled.  So I have the opportunity

to finish this story about what I do when there is a

blizzard and I get the day off.)

    So I've got this really complex pattern for a parka

that includes pockets, zippers, a liner, and some

other fancy layer I don't even remember the name of.

Chad and Tanya have a pattern for a simple anorak

(which is what I want to make) but they don't want me

to cut it to the large size in case Chad wants to use

it to make a extra large.  So I begin to cut out my

pattern.  I discard anything that refers to a liner

and anything that I don't recognize or would not know

how to sew.  I also discard the front of the pattern

because I don't want a front with a zipper I just want

an anorak and hence the front would look much like the

back.  I decide to use red and black material and

randomly choose which pieces will be black and which

ones will be red.  Turns out I have lots of material

for the few little pieces of the pattern I actually

use.  In my head it all seems to make sense.  I can

picture the whole thing coming together (more or

less).  I look over at all the papers spread out on

the floor and see that Mackenzie is also wanting to

help.  He walks over the pattern poking holes in it

with his nails before he finally set his ass down on

the middle of the paper, hind legs raised up to the

roof and with his front legs pulls him self across it

leaving a giant skid mark.  Now what am I to make of

that?  Is it a comment on my potential sewing ability

or does he just not like the pattern?

    I cut out the material and start to sew.  It's all

going along very well.  This parka is practically

making itself.  After the arms are done and the body

is I done I attempt to put them together.  The only

problem is that I made the two arms identical.  I

mistakenly assumed the sleeve pattern was uniform but

as it turn out there is a front and a back to the

sleeve.  I have now entered the tearing apart stage of

the project.  It's all well and good to make something

that is difficult but if you are to be set back by

undoing your work...  it's almost too heart breaking

to go on.  And in the process of undoing my hard work

I, of course, rip part of my material as well.  But

hey, the day is young and I have lots of time to

finish this project.  And don't forget there is always

the weekend too.  I manage to undo my mistake and get

back on track.  The thing is coming together nicely.

Except for the fact that it looks really big.  I mean

really, really big.  In fact it's so big that I can't

get all the pieces to line up properly.  I guess that

would mean only some of the pieces are too big or

perhaps some of them are too small.  I decide to make

the big pieces smaller so can can get the cocksucker

sewn together and tried on for a fitting.

    When I do put it on it feels a lot not unlike I'm

just draping myself with a bunch of cloth.  Is this

supposed to be a parka?  Why is there such ample room

in the breast area?  I still hadn't attached the hood

so I assumed once that was done it would feel and look

a lot better.  And it did.  There was a lot o tricky

sewing with the hood but in the end it did resemble a

parka more than a bed sheet.  I was pretty darn proud

of my accomplishment as well as the subtle innovations

I added just to make the thing work out.  It was both

functional and classy looking.  And owing to the ample

room in the chest it was very much a unisex design.

Maybe I could store my snacks under there.  The only

real problem I had with the parka was that after I put

my hat and down filled jacket on underneath I couldn't

do up the hood.  I contemplated that one for about a

week before I made further ingenious alterations that

resulted in the ultimate, home-made Baker Lake anorak

original.  I was so proud in fact that I even wore it

to school to show the kids.  “Who made your parka?”

... “I did.”  ... “You did not, who made it?”  .... “I

made it on the snow day.”  .... “You were supposed to

be making us curtains.” ... “But we don't need

curtains anymore.  We have blinds.”  ... “So, whatever

happened to the curtains.”  .... “I made a parka

instead.” .... “You didn't make that parka.” 

    I think I convinced some of them that I made it after

showing them a sample of my shoddy and messy stitching

and explaining in detail all the finer features of the

parka in a way only the true designer could.  “Well

that's not to bad, but you still owe us some

curtains.”  ... “Sure thing, next snow day.”  Which of

course is right now.  But as it is so very obvious I'm

busy doing a little bit of writing and I'm sure by the

time I proof read I will be totally spent for the day,

I'll probably not get around to the curtains.  I'll

maybe have just enough energy left to do a little

reading or bottle that batch of white wine that is

downstairs waiting for me.  Gotta love these snow

days!

 

Baker Lake Vignette #219 (Paddlers)

(Originally released August 29, 2004)

Being situated in Baker Lake, the end point for many

on the many great northern rivers, has it's many

advantages.  All manor of refuse passes down these

fast moving rivers only to find their end in the

stagnant and grand body of water we call Baker Lake.

In the past it served as a sure supply of badly needed

drift wood.  As tree's are somewhat difficult to come

by around here, any piece of wood larger than a

finger's width (what you could easily find on a local

willow bush) is welcome indeed.  Mainly for it's use

in great bonfires and roasting smores I assume, but

likely also for making komatics and kayaks and even

skin tents.  Occasionally the rivers would spit out

other things like empty fuel drums, drown explorers,

and airplane wings but these type of things had

limited use.

    Now-a-days the modern bounty that the river deposits

in the eluvial vicinity is what we like to call

“paddlers”.  That is to say, people who are traveling

down the rivers, through the bug infested lands,

braving cold, rain and wind and calling it a holiday.

These people are great.  If they can put up with fifty

days on the a river then they can surely appreciate a

couple of days in Baker Lake.  This year we made a

point of meeting as many of these adventurous

travelers as possible.  You never know what

information you can glean from them or what supplies

you can barter for.  After two months on the land a

cold mug of beer is a real bargaining tool.  There is

the slight problem of ethics, however, when you

contemplate getting an entire camp of eighteen  year

old YMCA kids smashed on homebrew.  Luckily we never

did have to do this.  Typically the Y-kids have

nothing left to barter and their canoes always get

shipped back to Minnesota at the end of their trips.

    The good news is that there were plenty of other

interesting characters coming off the rivers who were

more than willing to come and visit our brew house.

The fact that we have gone through three kegs of beer

in the first three weeks since I've been back to the

north can only be attributed to the influx of paddlers

and have nothing at all to do with my own personal

habits, the last week of summer holidays, and the

stress of the first two weeks of school.  No, it's

obviously had to do, most of all, with the thirsty

paddlers who make their way down the mighty Kazan and

Thelon Rivers.  (If you are from the USA the rivers

are pronounced “Kahzohn” and “Thaylohn” which caused

me great confusion for the first five minutes of most

conversations .... “You came from where?”)  Our first

encounter with a paddler was the infamous Bob O'Hara.

He's been coming up north to paddle every year since

1969 (or “the 60's” as he likes to say).  He's been on

just about every major river you can name and quite a

few you can't.  Chad and I ran across him when we were

biking out to the paddler's campground on the edge of

town.  He greeted us with “Hey, who are you guys?  The

local police?”  Unbeknown to us, we were both sporting

green shorts and black t-shirts and  matching green

“Maynooth” ball caps.  I suppose we did look rather

intimidating on our iron ponies.

    After a lengthly conversation detailing the various

exploits of Bob, Chad introduced himself and told Bob

that he had met him years ago at Lakehead when Bob had

come to show slides and tell the same stories we just

listened too (while being eaten alive by mosquitoes).

We parted our ways after almost getting run over by a

water truck, after all we were standing in the middle

of the road all this time.  Later on we ran into Bob

again this time by the visitors centre where we were

stalking a group of 4 female canoeists from Minnesota.

We were able to introduce ourselves and give a brief

synopsis of our life stories up to now before Bob

intervened and told more of his “since the 60's”

stories.  The girls then informed him that they had to

get to the post office before it closed (it now being

10:00 am and the post office closing at 6:00 pm) so

they had to run along.  We used this opportunity to

hit up Bob for a canoe.  “Hey Bob, you should give us

a canoe.”... “I'd love to boys but I really have

nothing to spare at this time.  I could keep my eyes

open and see if anybody else coming in has anything to

spare.  Since the 60's, and the whole time I've been

coming up here, I have  been using the same canoes.

As a matter of fact they are right over there under

the Northern store.”  He then proceeded to show us his

stash of canoes under the northern store.  One of

them, a 20 foot long aluminum Grumman, he offered to

us for our personal use.  But as for selling.... well

he's been up here since the 60's and he's likely to be

doing many more trips in the future.

    A few days later, Sue, working at the community

library, met a number of other paddlers and invited

them over to visit.  The first two were  a couple of

40 something academics who also happened to be long

distance running enthusiasts.  Or freaks, as I call

them.  They both wighted about 120 pounds soaking wet

but somehow managed to paddle their canoe with two

months worth of gear all the way here from

Yellowknife.  “So, do you want to get rid of it now?”

I asked.  “Well as a mater of fact we just may.”  The

80 pound, 18 foot, Royalex,  Wenonah canoe  (which

these squirts found extreamly heavy) was actually

quite nice and after a couple rounds of beer we struck

a reasonable bargain.  They would leave it here for us

and if we got around to sending them some money in the

next couple of months that would be fine.  Good thing

I mentioned that I still have to send the money.  I

suppose even if they never do get a cheque from me

they must feel they were not too hard done by as we

did give them lots of beer, some cake, a dinner and

lots of fine conversation while they were here.

    While we were entertaining the Minnesotans, there was

a group four female paddlers trying to track down

Chad.  Seems one of them went to Lakehead with him and

knows him.  This led to another visit, another round

of beers, and showers for everyone (50 days on the

river without a shower is quite impressive).  “Hey,

got any canoes you want to get rid of?”  ... “No but

we do have a lot of gear from MEC that we have to

donate to a worthy cause.”  ... “Tell you what, why

don't you stay for dinner and we'll talk a little

further on the “worthy cause” thing.”  After some

exaggeration about the outdoor education part of our

school's program we were able to score $500 worth of

stuff suitable for remote river trips..... for the

school of course.  Chad went even further, by taking

advantage of these young woman's good nature and

having them teach all of his class for the next week.

Ok, we maybe not exactly, but it did seem that there

were more paddlers in his classroom at any onetime

than there was down at the campground.  I'm not sure

exactly what they did but I know there was a lot of

paint involved, most of which is still smeared around

the room in unlikely places such as computer monitors,

desks and the ceiling.

    Among the numerous guest speakers were a couple of

German Guys who just came in after about 3 months on

the land.  Even though they seemed real nice, laid

back and actually had a sense of humour I knew it

would be of no use asking if they had a canoe to sell.

I mean, they were German's afterall, more frugal than

philanthropic I assumed.  But still, it would be fun

to invite them to the house.  This was Sue's doing as

she was the first to make contact with them when they

made their way to the public library.  By this time

our house (may I remind you that Chad, Tanya, Sue and

I all live together with 4 dogs in small one bedroom

apartment) was looking more like a drop in center.  To

be equitable we told Tanya that she could be the next

to invite over guests.  Preferable in the distant

future.  Chad had already invited the 4 women over for

Poutine and beer (what else would you want after a 2

month canoe trip?) so how could you not have the

Germans over if they were all at the campground

together.  (the Minnesotans has already left by then.)

    Poutine and Beer!  What were we thinking.  First off

one of the women coming over was actually a real

French Canadian and secondly the Germans we coming and

they were going to drink our beer!  Then a crisis

erupted.  One of our kegs went empty (Damn American

lushes) and we had to switch to a green, partially

carbonated keg.  What will the German's say!  And the

poutine!  How can we really call it poutine when the

fries are frozen and the “curds” are actually bit's

cheese broken apart by hand to look like curd.  We did

manage to pull it off though somehow.  Our saving

grace was that we actually had real St. Hubert's

“poutine sauce” and if that wasn't enough to give

authenticity to our meal I don't know what could.  One

could forgive the frozen fries (McCain of course) but

if you just put any gravy on the fries then you really

run the risk or serving a total sham.  The beer worked

ok too.  The Germans said it tasted good.  Of course a

mug of partially fermented urine mixed with molasses

would probably taste good too if you hadn't had a beer

in three months.

    Most impressive of all was the fact that I was able

to cook 10 servings of poutine almost at the same time

for a hungry and undiscerning crowd of paddlers.  More

drinking and fine conversation ensued before the

evening began to tapper off and people started to

leave.  One of the first to go was Chad himself.  With

his guests, half-full mugs of beer in hand, still

whooping it up in the living room, he made is

apologies and bid them a good night as he made his

departure for the other end of the living room and

safe haven behind a loosely strung Hudson's Bay

blanket where he and Tanya keep their bed.  Some of

the guests looked about oddly confused.  “He's not

going far, he's just on the other side of the blanket”

I said, “that's his room.”  .... “Oh, well maybe we

should be off.”  You could sense that these paddlers

(who didn't have to teach school the next day) were

hesitant to leave a warm, dry house that was serving

beer to go to a cold wet tent that was a 3 km walk

away.  “That's alright, you could probably still talk

to him, he can't get away.”

    Our guests did finally leave after a few more drinks

and our house returned to a relative state of

normalcy.  It was great meeting all these paddlers and

we assume it won't be the last time either.  Seems

once you come north to paddle, you get hooked and keep

on coming back.  Look at Bob O'Hara; been coming here

since the 60's.  Eventually Chad did get a canoe out

of Bob.  He showed up one day and told him there as a

nice 16 footer with a hole in it up for grabs.  What

more could you want.  Hopefully we will see more of

these folks in the future when we are better able to

accommodate visitors.  Say like when we have a real

house or something.  Until then there is always room

around the table for one more stinky, dirty outdoor

enthusiast.