A cold winter's night.

The times spent in Fort McMurray, were chaotic at best. The people up there are a different breed all unto there own. I was told prior to my arrival in the oilsands capital, that the majority of the residents are from the maritime provinces and they treat it like it's there own. In fact I've heard and still hear that it's the largest city in Newfoundland. I usually avoid talking about things that cause any kind of confrontation as it is usually non productive, but in this case I will make an exception. The reason why so many Maritime people are in northern Alberta is because they were originally placed there by the government due to the sky rocketing unemployment rates in their home provinces. The drain on the U.I. lead the government to offer these people some employment to allow the Maritimer's some means of providing for themselves and their families. Today, however, the attitude is not one of being grateful that your fellow countrymen and women could provide you with the means of employment, but of an eastern superiority. I frequently heard while in my own province, that the only reason Maritimer's were in Alberta, was because Albertan's were to lazy to do the work.

If I come to your house, I do not place my feet upon your table, or take without being invited. I am respectful of your home. So why do my own countrymen/women not treat my home with the same respect. I have no sense of patriotism to those who come here under their own provincial flag, or any flag for that matter. We are Brothers and Sisters alike. If that troubles you, please send my regards to Mr Tobin when you return home. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.

The native population on the other hand were the polar opposite. I can not speak kindly enough of the indigenous population in the north. Yes, they don't have much and the social issues facing their culture as a result of the oilsands are complicated, they were always a happy bunch. There were two main bars in town; Cowboys, and the Oilcan. One was where the maritimers went to let loose, the other was predominately native. I was always welcome in the Oilcan and always had my back to the wall in the other. A story about that in a while.

After Robin and I left working for Stan, I ended up hauling diesel out to the new Albian Sands project and Robin was to look after the rail yards. We lived together for a short time in her RV camper at the truck yards for Chief Hauling Contractors. Eventually the cramped space and dingy living arrangements meant we had to find separate quarters. The cost of living in Ft. Mac was staggering, if you were lucky enough to find something, the prices for a small apartment was usually around 1500 to 1600 per month. If you weren't related to someone up there, the price usually went higher.

Not knowing what to do, I figured that the best course of action was to buy my own RV camper. I finally found one in Innisfail of all places for $450.00. It was an Aristocrat Lo-Liner, built in 1963 down in California. Now, I mean no disrespect to the good people of California, but they have no idea what a winter is like in northern Alberta. I suspect it wasn't meant for what I was using it as anyway. By the time winter had set in, some nights were so cold, a bucket of hot water would freeze before it hit the ground when you thew it outside. My camper had little to no insulation. I recall buying a kerosene heater and placing it next to my bed. I cranked it up as high as it would go. In the morning, I would have frost on my pillow, and the candle next to the heater would be a pool of molten wax. I barely made it through the winter. I usually slept in the bunk of the truck . For the sake of argument, I guess you could say that, once again, I was homeless. Good thing I'm made of sturdy stone as my Grandfather would say.

Eventually I found a shared residence with one of the security details from Suncor. Mike. We shared a large two bedroom suite near downtown Ft Mac. I have never appreciated indoor plumbing as much as I did the day I moved in. Life was starting to look pretty good. Robin too eventually found a home to move into across town. Slowly our lives were heading in two different directions.

June 21st 2000

It comes when no words
speak of it
and yet leaves upon it's embrace
It becomes lost in a
tumbled mind,
and discovered when neglected.
It is nothing,
and yet everything.
It is sensible, yet senseless
It is the emotion; unattainable
and the motion attained.

How often I wish I could just peek into the future to see
whats in store. I have a new girlfriend. Who I care for and yet
need to keep at a bit of a distance. Experience tells me this isn't 
going to end well. Whole lot of trouble. I guess we shall see.
I competed in the northern Highland Games in town last week.
I placed second in the Mens amatuer B and walked away with 
three silver medals and two bronze. Robin did great as well. 
She placed second as well and won a gold in the Kaber toss.

Well, lets see. My truck has been fixed as well as my motorbike. 
I'm no longer single and a think I'm in the best shape I have ever 
been.

 Weight throw during Highland games. I missed my mark.

I should mention that part of the reason for my moving to Ft Mac was to save a fair sum of money and get my helicopter license. The cost at the time was $40,000. A drop in the hat compared to the amount of money floating around up there. After a few months I asked to meet with a few bush pilots and see if the investment was a worthy one. Turns out, it wasn't. If 100 people were to get there rotary wing license, perhaps only two would ever find work  and those two would be in rather isolated places for a long period of time. They also mentioned that most bush pilots suffered from A.I.D.S. Quite alarming I thought. They then told me that A.I.D.S. meant Aircraft Induced Divorce Syndrome. You had to REALLY want it, and I didn't want it that bad enough to risk $40K.

 The last day I thought of becoming a rotary pilot.

My job with Chief hauling was exhausting. With no Department of Transportation to stop me, I could drive for as long as I wanted. Well beyond the legal limits. I would stay for days on end behind that steering wheel. I was the only source of diesel for the Albian Sands project for almost a year. If I didn't deliver, the whole operation could shut down. No pressure there. Some times I would drive for 30 hours straight till I had to pull over and sleep. I remember once I was so tired that I didn't remember pulling over to the side of the road and fell asleep over my steering wheel with the engine running. When I awoke, I thought I was still moving at the speed limit. Damn near filled my shorts. For many years after leaving the trucking industry, I had severe sleeping disorders. I'd twitch uncontrollably as my body tried to keep itself awake even when I was trying to sleep on purpose. It's probably why I'm a night owl now.

Well. I'll tell you a story of how I almost ended up in jail for 14 years tomorrow.

Sleep well.

Vedi Vini Vicci.