Just back from a qucik trip to Victoria. Flew Harbour Air, sat up front in the co-pilot’s seat with my new friend Brad, who is an aspiring musician, autodidact, and all round curious dude. I’ve flown with Brad a couple of times now and we have great conversations about technology, susbistence, land, First Nations, community building, music and culture. It’s always a full 40 minute flight.
I snapped a few cool photos on the way:
- Brad’s office: the cockpit of HA309 a Turbo Otter (and an outside view)
- “Freighters on the nod, on the surface of the bay, one of these days they’re gonna sail away” – Bruce Cockburn
- My home island from 2500 feet.
- And a bonus: Facilitator art – Flipchart still life (and a novel agenda)
Regina, Saskatchewan
I love it here…big open prairie sky meets wide expanse of earth. And over it all, the air is chilled, so cold that I actually succumbed to the spit test. I spat on the sidewalk and immediately poked at my saliva with my boot. It had instantly turned to ice powder. The thermometer in my ride’s car said -41. By this afternoon it had warmed up to -28, which is the current temperature. If the warming trend continues, it’s supposed to be a balmy -14 by tomorrow afternoon. That is a 27 degree difference: the difference between a freezing fall day and a too hot summer afternoon.
I can’t imagine how people survived out here in the old days. Getting to the fire, as Chistina Baldwin says, is indeed a life and death situation.
In a training workshop today with some lovely community leaders and tomorrow we run a day long Open Space for the community. Exploring hosting and getting ready to harvest leadership for community change.
I’m sitting in the Vancouver airport killing time before a flight out to Edmonton. I spent last night at home, which was a surprising novelty.
I have been on Whidbey Island most of last week delivering another workshop on The Art of Hosting Conversations that matter – more on that soon. Yesterday I was due to fly from Seattle to Calgary and then on to Regina where I am spending three days doing work to support the Urban Aboriginal Strategy there. Two of those days (today and tomorrow) were to be a two day hosting workshop and Thursday I am opening space for a large community meeting aimed at revitalizing the process. Following that, I have to fly back to Seattle for a day of work withthe Quinault Indian Nation and then home on Saturday for a week.
Travel was complicated by a blizzard that swept across the prairies yesterday bringin temperatures in the low -40s to Regina and Calgary. When I checked in in Seattle, I discovered that my flight to Calgary had been cancelled, so they routed me through Vancouver. When I got here, the flight to Regina was cancelled in the face of a raging blizzard and windchills that dropped the temperature to -53. I can’t even conceive of air that cold. You’d think it would just drop out of the atmosphere and pool around your feet.
So, I lucked out by being stranded in Vancouver. I went home and enjoyed a nice unexpected evening with the family. When I woke up this morning, we had ten centimeters of snow on the ground and I was seriously doubting whether I would be able to leave Vancouver.
It’s now midafternoon, I’m checked in and everything seems clear on my evening flight to Edmonton and then to Regina. I get in at midnight. The weather should be warming up significanlty while I’m there. They are expecting highs of -31 tomorrow. Thursday should be a balmy -15.
If my flesh doesn’t freeze solid, I’ll be back to Seattle Friday and then home Saturday for a bit of a rest.
Just when I get home, off I go again. This time, I’m travelling to Whidbey Island for the Art of Hosting and then on to Regina, Saskatchewan for work with the Urban Aboriginal Strategy there, a combination of training and hosting a one day Open Space meeting.
So the light blogging continues until I can find some time and connections to speak about. In the meantime, enjoy the recent additions to my flickr account of some photos of Maui, a trip to the Quinault Nation, and life here on my home island.
Chicago, Illinois
It comes off almost as a sigh.
Chicago-O’Hare is well known for being a finicky place to make connections, due to weather or traffic. I’ve mostly had good luck coming through here, with only one weather delay. Today though I have enjoyed the hospitality of the C concourse for most of the day, compliments of a United flight to Vancouver that was cancelled at 9:00. I’m now awaiting the call for the 3:25 flight home.
So what does the C concourse have to offer the stranded traveller? There are Starbucks outlets, but they lose their appeal after a couple of shots of watery espresso. Hudson News is omnipresent but despite selling The Atlantic, The New Yorker and The Economist, they seems suspiciously short on Harper’s. I am half imagining that the reason is political, given Harper’s stinging rebukes of establishment American politics of late. Whch is why I want to read it. Instead, I bought a copy of Best American Short Stories 2006, edited by Stephen King who provides an entertaining and honest assessment about the state of American short stroy writing: alive but not well. His selections for the anthology are great.
Food…so not much around here of note. I’ve always appreciated the fact that you can get Odwalla juice pretty freely around here. I’m loaded on some kind of blueberry B-vitamin power mix. Of the outlets, the Corner Bakery has the nicest sandwiches, freshly made pannini. When I need a fill, the Manchu Wok offers heaps of non-descript Chinese food, MSG free at least and it fills the belly for the four hour flight to Vancouver on United, which I have redubbed “The Hungry Skies.”
Wireless is cheap, at $6.95 a day which is a steal if you’re logged on for as long as I have been, and there are these power stations that are nice to work at. Power plugs in the waiting areas are scarce and nearly all in use by businessmen sucking down the watts while they make uberimportant cell phone calls.
And so the day proceeds, slowly, without any remarkable incidents, watching the crowds ebb and flow and waiting for UA1119 to spirit me to the west coast, eight hours later than I expected to get home.