Spitting image

It's a sodding Llama.

A Llama. You know where I found this thing? In a barn in Black River Bridge, a rural community down the road from the city not far from the south shore of the bay.

A Llama! And apparently, there's a whole farm of Alpacas not far from Saint John. The mind boggles.

The guy who owns said Llama runs a little farm in the area, and has a whole lot of weird animals:

On the right is a miniature Donkey. On the left, slightly smaller than a great dane, is a miniature horse. Lords alone know where he got those.

I was down there for a "live nativity," hence the animals in this shed, subbing in for a manger. The Virgin Mary and the baby saviour actually live in my building.

Marvellous animals, truly creatures of the lord, and it was good to see the youth give them the respect they deserve:


All for now.

Beaubears Island

Well, folks, this here's Beaubears Island:


Used to be a major shipbuilding centre, back in river's heyday. Now it's just a national park, covered in forest regrowth and served by a tour operator who insists on calling himself Captain Dan.

The morning I took this it was snowing in Nelson, the part of the city facing the Island, and the river hadn't quite frozen yet, so I stopped and snapped this. Always loved snowy days, and still haven't quite got used to seeing such a large body of water just freeze over like that.

Welcome to northern NB, VANOC.

And so did the Olympics come to the Miramichi: In a veritable shitstorm of chilly rain and blasted wind.

Reporters from the Leader and the Times and the Telegraph all braved the lousy weather to grab the pics of the runners and of the cauldron lighting ceremony at the high school in Chatham.

Not me, though. No. See the pic below?



I took it from the media van.

The nice, big, shielded, toasty media van. It was pretty much just me and some guy from the Globe and Mail, along with the VANOC folks with their cameras and suchlike. Only one from the paper to draw that metaphorical straw.

When we got through Newcastle, we rushed over to Chatham, where the ceremony itself was being held at one of the high schools. Outside, in the freezing bloody rain, although the stage area was dry enough.

When we stopped there, I got out of the marvellously dry media van, and headed to the field. The guys from the Leader, Times and Telegraph were absolutely soaked to the skin, and freezing as all bloody hell. When I turned up, a faint sprinkling of cold drizzle in my hair and on my jacket, I could see the hatred burning like a frozen furnace in their eyes. I laughed. Then I went back to the media van to warm up.

My memory card was filling faster than a PEI pogey line, but not to worry! With my spectacular super powers, I had looked into the future, and foresaw that would happen, so I got meself a

brand

spanking

new

4gig card. When I ran out of room, I kept shooting and, soon, my

brand

spanking

new

card was filling with pics of Olympic drenchedness. The whir of the shutter was my constant companion, until suddenly it was no more, because, you see, my

brand

spanking

new

4 gig card decided to crash on me.

Just crash. No reason. No jostling of the camera, no extreme temperatures, no water seeping in, just your regular, run-of-the-mill, totally fucking inexplicable memory card crash.

I was pissed. Luckily, a nearby freelancer lent me one of his spares, so I could keep shooting, right up until we got to the end of the bridge. Then they politely booted me out of the media van, along with the freelancer, so I trudged through the freezing drizzle to the nearby Tim's, waiting for pickup.

Ah. The magic of the Olympics.

Couched ... on my new couch

Welp. After more than a year of struggling to get comfortable on that blasted $100-click-clack I got when I went back into exile, I figured it was high time I got myself a new couch. A real one with, like, proper cushions and everything:

Behold!

As the picture suggests, it is most comfy.

The Southwest Miramichi

I was working the weekend recently down in Derby, when it struck me it was a nice bloody day, so on the way back to town, I stopped and took a couple shots. Enjoy:

Basically, the Miramichi River is fed by the Southwest and Northwest Miramichi, both of which meet more or less where the city starts.

I figured I'd put the pictures up, but the truth is, you had to be there.

I'm sure it's not the prettiest river in Canada, but I'm pretty sure it's up there.

The bridges of Northumberland County

Maybe it's because I come from a family of engineers, or maybe because I just really loved playing with Lego growing up, but I have this odd fascination with bridges. Which is most fortuitous ... given how many of the sodding things there are in Northumberland County.


Comes with the territory, I suppose. The mighty Miramichi river bisects the city and the county all the way down to Boiestown, with Fredericton not too far beyond.

When lumber and forestry was still the backbone of the region, you needed as many rail bridges as regular bridges to keep everything going, here and there as you travel along the Southwest Miramichi. Some are just completely abandoned now, like the one below.


Others still see use.


This, the Anderson bridge, is the link across the SW Miramichi that'll get you from the city to Fredericton, passing through a whole whackload of weird villages and rural communities along the way.

On a sunny fall or spring day, the drive is always beautiful.

Aaaaand that's all I got to say about bridges for now.

The long gun registry is doomed

What a wonderful sport this is:

The nice gentleman from Chatham Head in the picture above was proud of bagging this buck upriver, so the boss sent me out for a picture. First time I'd ever seen one this close. It was magnificent.

Not seen in this picture was the large bullet hole in the thing's neck.

I think I'd like to try hunting, just once, to see how it feels. It's a fine tradition on the river, long standing. It's always amused me how so many people here have long guns, while the much reviled long-gun registry is a few minutes was from my house.

Just the one time, though, so I can know for myself how it is.

Personally, I'd much rather see 'em alive. There's less blood involved.