A cold day to be on the outskirts of a cold city in a cold part of the world. When you travel midweek into Canada’s hinterlands and northern small cities, you share a plane with mostly hard and tired men who work for government or various companies doing business in the far flung nether regions of this nation. Whether it’s travel to Prince George, Thunder Bay, Prince Albert or Yellowknife, it seems like the same guys are on the flight – steak eating, overworked, tired, introverted, hard men. Once in a while, if they are coming home from a job well done, and travelling in groups, they are more garrulous, raucously celebrating and teasing one another across the rows of the small regional jets and Dash-8s that seem to be bulging at the seams to contain them.
On a late winter Tuesday afternoon the flight from Ottawa to Thunder Bay isn’t at all out of the ordinary. Mostly public servants on this trip, a couple of guys wearing jackets with CAT logos on them, two or three professional women, and a young couple who have seen better days, and who seem to be holding out for better days to come. The flight is quiet, descending through an oncoming blizzard to land on a snowy runway. When we disembark, the jetway doesn’t fit the fuselage very snugly and a blast of cold Northern Ontario air stings the face.
Here at the Valhalla Inn – a nod to the nordic history of this part of the world – wood trim and gas fireplaces in the lobby distract the eye from the cinder block hallways, and new carpets in the room offset the aging wood and vinyl topped room furniture. It seems like the meeting rooms are full of Aboriginal women and non-Aboriginal men. Almost every space has a sign that says that people are planning, and being the end of the fiscal year, everyone is turning their thoughts to next year, which starts on April 1.
There is something about the bleakness of being out here, far from downtown Thunder Bay, that brings loneliness on. I have two days of work here, but already I can’t wait to get home to my little house on an island in Howe Sound, where my family are.
It has been a long winter in many ways, and I’m ready for a rest and for spring to come on. Here, it feels a million miles away from that – not even the geese have dared venture this far notth yet, and the storm coming in deepens the mood.
Hunker down , do some good work with local First Nations leaders and youth and then get home. That’s the work of this week. Looking forward to ten days with the kids, writing some reports and getting my hands into the soil of the spring garden.
For the second time in two weeks, I’m back in Ottawa, one of my former residences, and a part of Canada that I love very much. I arrived yesterday afternoon and spent the evening walking around my old haunts on Elgin Street, going to see Milk and then finishing with a late dinner at The Manx Pub, a place located four doors down from the first place Caitlin and I lived after we moved to Ottawa in 1991. The Manx opened three weeks after we got there and it’s still going strong.
Today a day of teaching hosting, cricle practice and Theory U with a group of people involved in our Urban Aboriginal Economic Development Network of learning circles. Many of the people with us today are involved in setting up learning circles BC and Ontario on Aboriginal women’s social entreprenuership inspired by the work of Penny Irons and the Aboriginal Mother’s Centre in Vancouver.
Tonight its off to supper at Canada’s second Aboriginal restaruant, Sweetgrass Bistro in the Byward Market, another former stomping ground. Good to be back here, good to be working with friends, good to be doing good work.
San Jose, CA
I’m in San Jose this week to help host a Core team retreat for the folks planning and executing the 2009 Food and Society Gathering, which will be here in April. Here’s how I got here today.
- Left BOwen Island last night on the 6pm ferry in the teeth of a southeasterly gale that drove sleet into the skin on my face. Rocky ride across the Queen Charlotte Channel, but uneventful otherwise.
- Grabbed a cab that arrived as I did and shared it part way with a lovely Finnish woman returning from a visit on Bowen. It was snowing so hard in Vancouver that cars and buses were stuck on all the hills so we drove around looking for clear and free aterial roads to try to get me to my mother in law’s place in South Dunbar. At one point it felt like we were just looking for the clean streets. I remarked to my Persian accomplice that we were driving rather like Nasruddin, who seaches for his lost key under the lamp, because it’s light there. The driver and I share a good laugh and some excellent conversation about Iran, Canada and Sufism. The ride is an enjoyable 1.5 hour crawl.
- Retire for the night but up at 4:45 to find a cab. Get to the airport and it’s a disaster. Lots of lines for all kinds of things, but mine are pretty manageable. Check in for 30 mins, US customs is 45 mins (with a secondary approval for my work visa) security is a mere 15 mins. IN Vancouver if you are an Air Canada elite member they give you a fast lane for security…looks like the regular lane was close to 45 mins long. Lots of folks rescheduled on flights that were cancelled last night. They were all tired and cranky, and it was kind of funny to see a planeload of sourpusses heading to Maui.
- Flight gets delayed an hour once I’m through, so it’s into the lounge, where Air Canada has replaced the formerly excellent espresso machines with slow inefficient machines with too many choices that appear to download your coffee. And then you get half a cup. Went to Starbucks and bought something close to real espresso.
- Boarded at 8:20, took off at 11. Combination of a flight attendant stuck in the snow, delays at the SFO end of things and other stuff which I missed because I fell asleep as soon as I hit my seat.
- Arrive in SFO at 1:00pm, figure I’ve burned enough carbon for one day so I opt for train to San Jose. Two minute Air Train ride. 20 mins on the BART and an hour and 20 mins (including wait times) on the Caltrain. Arrive in San Jose at 3:39, walk the mile to the hotel, in my room at 4:20. Cost me $7.50 cents not including the Subway sandwich I wolfed down for sustenance.
- So I’m here at the Fairmont, a luxery hotel in the middle of a strange city. My first time in Silicon Valley, so passing through Palo Alto, Menlo Park, Sunnyvale and Mountainview was cool. Passing by Redwood City was cool too, as my dharma teachings come from there. One tip for the Fairmont…Internet access is $13.95 a day but if you sign up for their loyalty program when you check in, it’s free, and they give Aeroplan points and other useful perks.
- Waiting for mates to arrive, then I’ll see about dinner. Any recommendations, leave them in the comments.
The “new road” from Nanaimo to Campbell River takes you high above the ocean, across the tops of the lowlands where the Vancouver Island range mountains slope down to the Strait of Georgia. It’s a long fast stretch of double highway, posted at 110 km/h and taking only an hour and a half, which is a full 30 minutes shorter than the more scenic, but interminably slow Ocean Route.
What you gain in speed though, you lose in character, and other than a few stunning lookouts, the scenery is dominated by recovering clearcuts on the mountains all around. You miss towns completely until you descend into Campbell River. The only crossings north of Parksville are mainline logging roads, with the exception of the road up the Comox Valley.
Off the road however, there are a few places to stop and get some good rest. Whenever I do this trip I always stop in at the Java Shack in Campbell River, which has some of the best espresso on Vancouver Island, and fantastic homemade soups and baking. It’s right down by the ferry dock, so is a great place to stop if you’ve missed the Quadra Island ferry.
Today though I’m pausing here on the way north, into high mountaon logging country, up highway 19 to Port MacNeil. North of Campbell River the road cuts inland through incredibly steep terrain and seeks out the Nimpkish Valley, giving equal access to both sides of the mountains that form the spine of this Island. Up here the economy is strictly about access – access to timber mostly, so the main highway splits the difference between both sides of the Island and the clear cuts come right down to the road. In Sayward once I was almost denied service at a gas station because I tried to pay with my VanCity Enviro Card. People are serious about logging here, and the great unspoken terror of fish farming, an industry that is driving a wedge between people and communities. The Broughton Archipelago, a maze of islands and treacherous channels, is the home to two dozen fish farms and a formerly thriving wild fishery. The wild fish fleets are down significantly – it’s hard to even find wild fish on the menu in Campbell River except at the excellent fish and chips stand in the Discovery Marina – and the resulting hit to traditional diets and ways of life in local First Nations is devastating.
I’ve driven this road dozens of times, awed by the scenery and the impact that humans can have on such a vast territory (see Google maps for evidence of the logging activity, none of which is hidden from view north of Campbell River – in the southern part of the Island, a nod to tourism means that clear cuts are carefully contained behind view corridors that give the impression of pristine forests). Not too many tourists wander up here, and I guess people kind of like it that way. A few make the trek for the world class salmon fishing and the whale watching tours out of Telegraph Cove and a few others get up to Port Hardy and board the ferry for the inside passage to Bella Bella, Bella Coola and Prince Rupert. But by and large this land belongs to the people that live here, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal, and that’s why I’m here – to run a gathering tomorrow in which these folks will talk to one another about what’s possible together.
Should be interesting.
I am heading out on a mammoth trip today. My itinerary looks like this:Monday – drive to Port MacNeil on northern Vancouver Island
Tuesday – Facilitate community to community forum with North Island First Nations and local governments. When finished, drive back to Campbell River and jump on a plane. Fly to Vancouver, then Toronto then Ottawa.
Wednesday – Facilitate workshop in Ottawa with the Canadian Union of Public Employees.
Friday – Finish workshop and return to Vancouver
Saturday – Facilitate one day Open Space for the Ministry of the Attorney-General Family Court Committee. Return home Saturday night.
This is a little unusual for me, in that I usually don’t do a red eye flight across two thirds of the country. I know I will be tired, and I know I need to stay focused on these three jobs and what I am doing. And believe it or not, I woke up this morning deliciously anticipating the journey ahead.
For me, this kind of travel and work is a mindfulness practice. I use these journeys to be very mindful about where I am and what I am doing. Often, when I am en route, I don’t speak to other people at all, preferring to travel in silence, reading, listening to music or podcasts or writing. If I do speak it is only to be politie, get where I am going or ask for help. As a silent meditation I find travelling in this way to be incredible practice, and it brings me to the work I have to do with as much presence as I can. In general I don’t check my emails when I am on the road, preferring instead to give as much attention as I can to the work I have at hand. Fortunately I have my partner Caitlin Frost is back in our office, answering phone calls, sorting logistics with clients and flagging important emails for me. This is an incredible gift as it allows me to be on the road, safe, undivided and present for my clients.
Seeing travel as a meditation retreat for me shows up in many ways. For example I have a few practices I cultivate on a daily basis and being mindful means focusing on doing them in unfamiliar places with limited access to tools. I try to exercise everyday, and have developed several “hotel room” workouts, that can be done between queen sized beds in small roadside motels. These are 20-30 workouts focusing on strength, flexibility and cardio fitness. Of course, access to a weight room or a gym makes this easier, but it isn’t necessary. Sometimes, if I’m driving and I get tired I pull over and go through a circuit of push ups, sit ups and squats or I run through some of my taekwondo patterns to get the blood flowing and energize my body.
Eating is another area that becomes a mindfulness practice. Because it’s so hard to find good and healthy food on the road, I think carefully about everything that enters my body. Instead of defaulting to restaurants, I’ll often stop in to grocery stores and stock up on fresh fruit and vegetables, pre-mixed salads or healthy instant soups that can be made with only boiling water. Travelling does not have to mean bread, oil and potatoes.
Travelling offers several benefits to the emotional side of mindfulness practice as well. It is a rare trip when everything goes according to plan and delays, changes and inconveniences force me to be mindful of my emotional states and to practice equanimity with people, machines and other pieces of reality that are out of my control. Some of my favourite trips have been those which have gone horribly wrong, with missed connections, bad weather and few options. If I come through those with a minimum of anxiety, the journey and the return home seems sweeter for it.
Travel can be stressful because it breaks our routines and rhythms. We need to become completely dependant on our own resources, carrying everything we need with us. It forces us to make careful choices about what we take and what we do on the road. We have to live differently than we do at home and that forces us to pay more attention to what we are doing. THAT alone is a gift, for if we can use the opportunity to focus ourselves and work with our mind, we can not only travel better, but understand ourselves better as well.
Slow down, be careful and attentive and see what you learn about yourself.