How do I explain this?

Here I am on my last night in camp and I've been agonizing over what to write about all week. I really don't want my blog to become a chore and on the other hand, I don't want it to go by the wayside either.  I get some real enjoyment from writing it.  So it just kind of hit me a little bit ago what to write about.  It would have been far more appropriate at the time that it happened which was Remembrance Day.

For several days leading up to Remembrance Day, my four year old son had been asking about 'the war.' He'd been learning a bit about what Remembrance Day was about in Kindergarten. It was a bit of a lesson for me to see what he retained from what I would figure they had been saying at school.  As far as he was concerned, there had only been one war and that's all.  He was wondering what the war was like. Where the war was held. One thing he seemed to have a grasp on was that people died.  Seemingly a lot of people.  It was bedtime the night before I was leaving for work and two days before Remembrance Day. Stories had been read, songs had been sung and it was time for good nights, I love yous and I'll see you in a week.  But that's when the real questions started.  Holy. How do I explain this?

As a child I was lucky enough to have parents that entertained my endless questions of why?  How come? How does this work? I have very fond memories of weekend drives with my dad heading to a sporting event or the hardware store and becoming fully engrossed in major learning moments of how things work. I think we were on the entrance ramp to the freeway just before going onto the Port Mann Bridge when we started the discussion of how an internal combustion engine works. Fishing in the little green row boat taking my first lesson in molecular physics.  I'm not trying to say my dad was some nuclear physicist but to a little kid, he was the all knowing. The answerer of questions. My mom was the teacher of things school.  I don't think I went to my mom with the same questions I did my dad. She was who I called when I needed something proof read. Or needed help with something embarrassing. Or bleeding profusely.  That's probably another blog entry though.

Now the pressure is coming on to me. I seem to be moving into the position of the answerer of questions.  If I was smart...I'd say, "ask your mother" or "call grandpa." But without wanting my sister to fill the comment box after this blog...I'm not that smart. I jump in with both feet and do my best to answer the questions that come from 4 to 6 year olds. I feel that I tend to do okay. They seem to walk away satisfied on most counts that their question has been answered.  The surface has only been scratched but I hope they'll continue to think and wonder and come back with another thoughtful question at a later date. So when I started to get grilled at bedtime about 'the war,' I realized that it had the potential to be a really big question.  And it was bedtime! But I was leaving for work for a week the very next morning. I couldn't even put it off until tomorrow. I tried to explain what a war is. I explained that there is still wars being fought all over the world. The concept of the world is so vague to a four year old. Their concept of the world is so small. It was enough of a challenge to explain that even though there is wars still going on, that's he's safe. There isn't a war happening anywhere near us. That was my opportunity to explain why we have Remembrance Day. That we remember all the brave men and women that fought so hard give us the safety of not having a war in our neighbourhood.  Now that he was understanding that people were trying to shoot and kill each other with guns, Remembrance Day seemed like such a small question...he was trying to digest how adults were allowed to shoot at each other...let alone kill each other!  It's bad to even hit someone else! This is where I'm still at a loss. Kids are no strangers to dealing with things with a fist or a foot if talks break down.  I've even seen trucks and sticks fly when it get's really heated. They all know by this age though that they're not supposed to hit each other.  And now I'm telling him about adults, governments, entire countries of people trying to kill each other. I couldn't explain why. I still can't. Honestly it's been a real eye opener for me. If the world was run by a four year old would it lead to war? I can't think so. When is civilization going to grow up?

I've already learned that children can drive a parent crazy with unending questions. They can be so inquisitive and so innocent. They can also be so cunning and devious at the same time. I hope my children will continue to ask me questions. I hope I can always offer an answer of some kind. I'm not naive enough to think that I will have all the answers to all the questions but I look forward to finding the answers with them and encouraging them to ask more questions. Most of all, I look forward to learning from their questions. Now can anyone answer the question? Why do people try to kill each other just because they don't agree and don't want to get along?

Stuck

This time of year can be particularly challenging trying to fly and work on the West Coast of B.C..  The rain, fog, wind and lack of daylight can really start to wear on you.  Tofino has created a whole new form of tourism based on 'Storm Watching.' I'm trying to hold back my sarcasm as I spend a second uninvited day in camp waiting for said storm to pass.  I'm tired of watching it.

If you're one of those people that can't stand to see the sight of tree being cut down, then the last two days have been good days for you.  Very few trees have died from un-natural causes on this project lately.  We have been forced to while away the hours with idle chain saws and a mostly idle helicopter sitting on the deck soaking in the rain, sleet and hail.  The float plane that was supposed to come and pick me up to take me home has also sat idle in Port Hardy waiting for the hurricane force winds to pass.  My new Macbook loaded with Skype has been my savior this week.  I have spent hours sitting with the digital video images of my family keeping in touch daily with school, homework and playdates. It helps to quell the pangs of loneliness but it's just not the same.

Tofino can keep the storms. Nothing beats a beautiful, clear winter day with fresh snow and calm winds. Come get me Mr. Floatplane Driver...I'm ready to go home!

Flight School

If I'm going to tell some helicopter stories I figure I'm best to start right at the beginning. I may not tell them all in chronological order but I think I'll start at flight school.  Delta Helicopters operated out of Ladner, B.C. near the Boundary Bay Airport. Keith and Maryanne McMillan ran the school and I can remember it all just felt right when I went to see them while I was trying to pick a school.  It didn't feel so much like a school as it just felt like a safe, friendly place to be for the next six months.  They had a neat and tidy hanger and office in a rural farming area by the Deese Slough where they kept two Bell 47G2's flying pretty steady.  I started in September 1995 and Finished in about March of 1996.

Thirteen and a half years later my memory is a bit muddy about a lot of flight school.  I know one thing for sure; when I look back now at how little I knew then...I can't believe I survived!  Most of my clear memories are that of shear wonder, shear terror and shear stupidity.  Amazing how memories work.  Most of flight school was a life changing journey of accomplishing what I had always dreamed of doing. During my first 5 hours of training I was utterly astounded that no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fly the damn thing! I had read several books on theory of flight and helicopter aerodynamics before I even started school.  I was so sure that had it come down to it... if it was an emergency... (and someone else started it) I would be able to fly one.  Boy was I wrong. I would have killed myself and everyone else unfortunate enough to be with me during that emergency!  So you can understand my bewilderment when after only 8 hours Keith started to climb out of the helicopter in a farmers field that we'd been doing circuit practice to.  He hadn't given me any advance warning that this flight would lead us into my first solo.  I can remember that his instructions warned me that the helicopter would take off tail and left side heavy without him in it anymore and that he didn't expect me to land right next to him.  Within walking distance was fine... Holy Shit!  Here's some of the shear terror and shear wonder  all wrapped up in one.  I survived the circuit back to field by myself but I remember his instructions were bang on.  I worried the tail rotor was going to dig a ditch before the skids finally came up and I remember being so suddenly aware of how high I was as I climbed away from the field.  The rest of that experience is pure filler.  I landed, Keith smiled, I didn't stop sweating for a while and there was plenty of congratulations all the way around.  I would say that that circuit is probably still my strongest memory of wonderment that, "Hey, I'm flying! Holy crap I'm really high!"

I continue to feel lucky that I have a job that is full of times that I can look around and say, "Hey, I'm flying!" There is still moments of "holy crap" but they're fewer and further between.  There seems to be just enough of them to keep me honest.  One thing that hasn't really changed since flight school is the feeling I get in my stomach before launching out on a flight somewhere I've never been before.  The solo nav trips in school would only take us as far as Hope, Mission, Fort Langley and back to Ladner but it sure seemed like a long way from home when you were doing it.  At school we only got sent out on a trip if the weather was good.  In the real world, we look at the weather and try to figure out if the weather is going to let us get to our destination but you can never know what the weather on the coast is going to do between point A and point B.  It's a pretty lonely feeling as the weather is closing in on all sides and you're only half way.  Let alone when the fuel gauge is creeping lower than you'd hoped for.

My favourite flight during school had to be when we went  into the mountains by Pitt Lake on a beautiful sunny day.  I was near the end of my training and we had been working on some confined areas near the Swan E Set Golf course when Keith suggested we do some mountain flying.  The sky was deep blue and the air was crisp.  We climbed high into the peaks where I had never been before.  I'd experienced snowy mountain peaks while skiing but never from this vantage point before. The clarity of every ice crystal in the wind swept snow was like coming out a fog at night to see the road reflectors reach out for miles in your headlights.  The Coast Mountains aren't high altitude peaks, but they sure seemed like it when you were suddenly above the haze of the Fraser Valley.  In retrospect I had so little feeling for the aircraft that I could hardly notice the loss of performance. Mostly a passenger in awe, I tried to absorb as much as I could from Keith as he explained a proper pinnacle approach and overshoot.  And some of the coarse principles of mountain flying. I have yet to develop the fine skills to be a true mountain pilot.  After that introduction it was clearly where I wanted to fly.  It still is.

Looking back at flight school, I can't believe how little I knew of what I really should have. That isn't a knock at Keith but just reality that a person can only adsorb so much.  One of my current positions at work has me conducting recurrent training and annual check rides with the other pilots in the company.  I have the pleasure of working with a very qualified group of professional pilots who take training and good airmanship seriously.  I also have to pass a Transport Canada PPC every year that makes me study and sweat. At times I remind myself that every 100 hour commercial pilot graduate had to pass a PPC and that helps bring perspective.  Knowing now what I didn't know then, and having a better grasp of how much more I still have to learn in an attempt to keep up with so many pilots I look up to; seems like a daunting task! Flight school at Delta Helicopters finished for me 13 plus years ago. Now I grasp the fact that the real school was just starting.

It's Been Awhile...

Okay, I've been getting hassled by the two people that actually read my blog that I haven't posted lately.  Of course I had grand plans to write in my blog most every day when I started...but that hasn't been happening.  Really I wasn't planning to write most days but I figured I'd do a fair bit while I'm in camp. So here I am two months since my last post wondering what I'm going to write about.  For starters, this is my first post on my new MacBook.  I'm certainly loving my new Mac.  I've spent hours and hours this week uploading our pictures and organizing them within i-photo.  It's a pretty great program and it would have done most of the organizing for me but I realized that the time and date on our digital camera has been wrong for the past year.  That made for some pretty frustrating evenings changing dates on pictures.  It's all done now and I'm very happy with it all.  I guess the next challenge is going to be organizing my music...

Since I posted last we've had a busy little household of milestones.  A first day of kindergarten, a first day of grade one, a second birthday, a first visit from the Tooth Fairy and a first time on ice skates.  School is going very well for the kids.  It's great to see them enjoying it. For me, school was just what happened before the sports started after the bell rang.  Joni has taken on the huge task of coaching the little kids soccer team...man she's brave! She spent a day in Nanaimo at a coaching clinic and shows up twice a week with a pre-planned practice in hand and a large supply of patience. I try to help when I'm at home but I lack the patience. I just have to remember that they're only little and it's most important that they have fun.

Work has been far busier as of late.  We're back logging full time with four helicopters going flat out at times.  This week I'm doing a shift of flying fallers in Smith Inlet.  It's not as intense as flying logs and it gives me ample time during the day to do things like organize pictures and write blogs.  Flying fallers is not without its challenges though.  This time of year presents many challenges.  The weather on the coast changes faster than you can make a decisions sometimes.  Today we have seen everything from warm sunshine to freezing snow squalls with next to zero visibility.  The shortening days also leave little room for being able to wait out the bad weather if someone is stuck in the fog.  I suspect I'll still have one more shift of logging or fallers before the Christmas shut down.  Training is starting to get under way as well.  It is looking to be a busy New Year with logging projects and completing everyone's annual training and check rides. I really enjoy the training. And I always look forward to some good time off over Christmas.

I am going to try hard to write more regularly. The ideas of what to write are what elude me sometimes. Once I start I enjoy it and seem to have more ideas.  Getting started can be the challenge sometimes.  If there is something you would like me to write about feel free to leave me a comment.  I have thought I should start to delve back into my helicopter career and tell some stories.  I know I have a few. I would also like to write about my children but I'm still trying to wrap my head around how I'm going to do that without opening our family up to some of the nasty people that lurk among the pages of cyberspace.  Somehow the thought of telling 'generic' family stories takes all the warmth and fun out of it for me. I'll put my thinking cap on and I promise to tell a good story before I go home on Tuesday!

Terry Fox Run

We ran the Terry Fox Run on Gabriola today.  It is by no means a 'big' event on this little island but it's a nice event.  We put all three kids in the strollers and pushed our way through the 10k course.  Terry Fox deserves much more mention than a simple blog post to say, "we did it" but that's what time allows for tonight.  He was certainly one of my earliest memories as being a hero for me.  I can vividly remember running around the playground with my friend Jeremy in elementary school playing Terry Fox. We were extremely proud to be wearing the same Adidas running shoes that Terry wore.  I even used to come home from school and use a little scrub brush and Mr. Clean to keep the whites white on those shoes.  He did a lot for a lot of people and his legacy continues.  We have been touched by cancer in our family I imagine it has touched your family too.  When we tucked the kids into bed tonight we told them they should be very proud because they ran for a good cause today and we raised a little bit of money to help cancer research.  They seemed to understand and feel proud. Which was in itself a journey from this morning when I had to explain not just that Terry wouldn't be at the run but that he had died and what he had died from.  Kids are so innocent and I hope the next time they see Grandma they remember to ask to see her scars.

Thanks to everyone who ran today and everyone who donates to cancer research.

Heli-Logging

I should probably spend a bit of time and show what we do. Over the past couple of years, the company I work for as been actively broadening their horizons to include other types of work than heli-logging. I thoroughly enjoy the other work but it is fair to say that our bread and butter work is logging. Basically, heli-logging is done two different ways. The typical method is what we refer to as 'hook logging.' These days 'grapple logging' is becoming equally as common. I will explain both methods in more detail with pictures. When we are using either method or combination of, we will use either a water drop zone or a land drop zone. Both have advantages and disadvantages.

Hook logging makes use of cable chokers and ground crew (riggers) to build loads for the helicopter to fly. The chokers are wrapped around the logs and the rigger puts the chokers into the hook on the end of the line below the helicopter in order for the logs to be flown to the landing. The riggers use their knowledge of log types, log grades and log weights to determine which logs fly and how many they can build into one 'turn' for the helicopter to take at one time. The Boeing Vertol that I fly has a maximum load capacity of about 10,000 pounds at the the end of the fuel cycle. At the beginning of the fuel cycle we take about 2,000 pounds less because we are carrying that much extra fuel in order to stay airborne for an hour and a half. We always use a 200 foot line below the helicopter unless we are in particularly steep ground with tall trees, then we add length to the line. The hook has evolved from being a true hook to becoming a nubins hook. The chokers no longer have 'eyes' spliced at the end of them, they use a steel 'nubin' to go into the jaw of the hook.  In this picture I am pointing to the nubin with the hook in the background.  The hook weighs 130 pounds.  The white marshmallows in the background are floats on the chokers for water drop. Hook logging has some very obvious advantages when it comes to production. A good rigging crew is able to keep the amount of wood flown per hour as high as possible by rigging maximum weight loads. Some of the disadvantages are having people working so close to the danger area of shifting logs during yarding and the danger area of the drop zone.

Grapple logging uses the same 200 foot line but instead of a hook there is a 1,000 pound hydraulic grapple attached to the line (see picture). The pilot controls the grapple from the cockpit and is responsible for building his own loads by putting multiple logs together. A small ground crew goes ahead of the helicopter and uses paint marks to designate what logs are to be flown and to give a general idea of log weights.

A water drop zone is bar far the fastest way to drop the logs and with very little breakage.  I understand there can be some environmental downsides to the water drop as it disturbs the marine life in the area.  We tend to log mainly in remote inlets with no road access and the wood ends up in the water in order to be be boomed and barged to the sort in the lower mainland.  The following picture shows a typical water drop zone.  There is usually two boom boats 'chasing' the chokers from the logs where they are coiled again on the choker float to be returned to the riggers.  When dropping the logs on land, there is either a wheel loader or log loader in the landing to pile the logs and load logging trucks.  Two chasers on foot run in to retrieve the chokers after the logs have been released in the landing by the helicopter.  In general terms the water drop is safer for the chasers because the logs are not landed nearly as close as during a land drop.  Much less room for error during land drop operations.

So I guess that's the basics of how heli-logging works.  I have simplified much of it and I can always go into much greater detail but risk boring you all to death.  It is a very challenging profession as a pilot.  We spend hours flying looking straight down.  And in a usual logging day the aircraft is in the air for 11 hours.  Each pilot usually logs 7-8 hours.  Constantly changing conditions on the coast can be very challenging to deal with.  This morning we saw fog, rain and wind and had to land several times to allow squalls to pass.  It never ceases to amaze me how hard it can be to get back into the groove of logging after even a short break from it.  Through it's challenges and sacrifices of being away from home it is a rewarding career. On nice days the view from our office can't be beat!

I should be sleeping!

Right now, I should be sleeping. Right now, I should be dreaming, not writing. Right now... there is so many things to do! Why does my mind get to be so busy at night? Is it that nagging feeling that I didn't get everything done that I would have liked to? I was working on a post about heli-logging today. To break it down a bit and explain what I do on a daily basis at work. I really want to include some pictures. I think I'm being too picky and wanting to get just the right pictures. Tomorrow I'm going to just take some pictures and you get what you get. I guess I can always update the post if I happen to get a better picture at a later date. Right?

So here's what's on my mind right now. It kind of hurts, I have a headache. I should be sleeping. I'm hot. This pillow sucks! Boring post, I know. Good night.

She Inspires Me

This is definitely not a helicopter story. This falls under the category of family and feelings. Joni and I have been married for about eight and a half years. In my opinion we have a great marriage. But it seems to be a bit subjective doesn't it? That's why I say 'in my opinion.' There seems to be a lot of experts on the subject these days but often I'm not even sure they know the perfect recipe. I tend to think that one of the major ingredients that's overlooked is whether or not you can both keep from becoming bored of each other. I know that sounds a bit harsh but I tend to think it's true. We all evolve as people and personalities as we age. Major life events influence perception of what's important and what constitutes a good time. Major life events like children... need I say more? In our relationship, I have some predominant instances that I can think of when something happened that made me fall in love, or fall deeper in love with my wife. Most recently was in June of this year.

She'd been fairly committed to training for a marathon. When I say 'fairly' I don't mean to say that she wasn't doing her best, I mean that it had a relatively high priority but way below the other priorities of child raising, being a wonderful wife and the master of the household. In between all that she managed to fit in as many runs as possible. Which in her mind wasn't quite enough to be feeling really ready to run a marathon. But with some convincing, run a marathon she did! It's certainly not how well she did that impressed me so much. It was the guts she showed to run it and run it hard. We had been camping in Tofino for the two days prior to the run and she had stayed with some girlfriends in a hotel the night before to get a little more sleep than in a tent with the four of us. I managed to drag the kids out of bed and took them in their jammies to cheer on mom at about 5 k into the race. When she ran by us that first time, it hit me! I was so proud of her! Then we went back to the campground to pack up and get to Ucluelet before the finish. The drive to Ucluelet seemed amazingly long thinking of it in terms of running! We finally caught up to her several kilometers from the finish and got out to cheer her on again. Then we headed for the finish line to watch the finish. As we watched her come down the final stretch for the finish line, I was hit with feelings of pride like I have never felt in my life. It brought me to tears. This was something that she had done completely for herself. She wasn't looking for congratulations or praise. She didn't set out to prove anything to anyone. And I fell in love all over again with my wife, her courage and her strength. Congratulations Honey.

I was just to the point of being ready to publish this post and decided to re-read it again. I realized that I had made my point about the importance of not becoming bored with your spouse and then became somewhat de-railed with my train of thought being so impressed with Joni's marathon. I need to add that it is through both of our desires to challenge ourselves and strive towards bigger goals in life that we keep the boredom away. We can often spend entire evenings just dreaming of what other options we have in life. There is certainly no shortage of dreams between us, just the realization in most cases that we truly enjoy our home, our life and family and don't feel we need to change much to stay happy. I look forward to a long life of challenges and dreams with my wonderful wife.

Today

Okay, so it's been a while since I've updated my blog... My sister mentioned to me that a lot of people update their blogs on a daily basis...definitely more often than a bi-monthly basis. I've got a couple of excuses. Excuse number one is the last time I went to work, I took our shiny new netbook (part of the inspiration for this blog) and left the power cord sitting at home on the kitchen counter. Excuse number two is that it's summer time and all outdoor activities with the kids take priority over a blog...it's been busy. I could probably throw in excuse number three that I'm really trying hard to spend less time on the computer when I'm at home. So in light of the fact that it's been so long since my last post 'Yesterday' it would be fitting to call this one 'Today.'

Today is crew change day. Crew change day can be the most dreaded and the most anticipated day of the week. And that depends on which way you're going...to camp or home. Today, I came into camp. Now being that I love my job and feel pretty darn lucky to have a job I enjoy, I can't say that it's so bad coming to work. The hardest part for me is always leaving home. Home is definitely where my heart is. Leaving home always starts the night before. Putting the kids to bed and reminding them that I won't be home when they get up because daddy has to leave for work in the morning, early. It's a wonderful time but I find it hard not to be sad at the same time. It's wonderful because no matter how challenging it's been to get the kids to bed, I feel and share their desire for everything to be healed before I say good bye. It always means lots of kisses and hugs and kissing hands to travel with me. If you have the book about the little raccoon going to school for the first time, you know what a kissing hand is. It is equally hard to leave my wife. She always looks so peaceful and comfortable in early morning sleep when I wake her up with a kiss goodbye. I just can't leave without that.

Depending on how far we have to travel, crew change can be exhausting. We usually spend at least half of the day driving and flying in float planes to get to camp. As soon as you arrive you need to get ready to jump in and get right to work so your cross shift buddy can get the hell out! He's on his way home! It never ceases to amaze me how foreign it feels to get behind the controls of the helicopter after just one week off. I believe it's because we finish our week of work at such a level of proficiency that when we come back to work we notice right away even the slightest change. It also seems to take your eyes and mind a bit to adjust to doing everything with your head tipped over and looking straight down the 200' line at whatever implement is hanging at the end of it. Today we came into grapple logging before switching to the hook. I should probably try to start adding some pictures and descriptions of logging and some of the various other types of work we do.

So here I am now, first night in camp. My stomach is full because I just ate way too much heavy camp food. My eyes are sore and I've got a head ache. But most of all, I have a heavy heart because I'm missing my home. Thinking about next crew change day when I get to go home and smiling because I have two kissing hands to keep with me until I get there.

Yesterday.

Yesterday was a sad day. The aviation community lost a brother in a helicopter crash. We heard about it at work well before it hit the news. News like that travels fast. I still don't know all the details and I don't know the pilot personally but it has still occupied a large part of my mind over the past 24 hours. He will be dearly missed and I can't help but think about my loved ones when something like this happens. I know that I had to do an inventory of all of my friends that fly that particular type of aircraft and confirm that they were not involved. Even that process of hoping it wasn't one of your buddies sours your stomach. Because that means that it was someone Else's buddy, husband, son or father.

Even though the statistics speak for themselves that flying isn't inherently dangerous, that driving is, that we're more likely to be run off a logging road on our way to the job site than die doing our jobs; it's still a crystal clear reminder that what we do comes with risk. And sometimes a lot of risk. I really try not to think about it too much. But it is certainly there and at risk of speaking for someone else, we all know it's there. We do our best to mitigate the risks and be as professional as we can. Calculate the risks and rewards. In doing so we count on each other. We count on the engineers to be thorough and double check their work and each others work. They count on us to do our daily pre-flights. We count on other pilots to make good position reports while we're flying. We count on our cross shift pilots to not abuse the aircraft that we both fly. We count on our companies to provide a safe work environment and choose wisely when it comes to selecting overhaul shops and service providers. I could go on and on but it really comes down to the fact that we are all human. We are all able to make mistakes and sometimes the machines we build break. But we will not stop flying for love or money... because we do it for both.

Now I'm going to go and clear my mind because I have to concentrate for a few more hours today while we keep our helicopter flying logs to the landing...

The Snowbirds Tonight!

We're going to go and see the Snowbirds tonight flying above the harbour in Nanaimo. As a helicopter pilot, I am often asked how I got started flying. Did I learn to fly with the military? Do I fly airplanes too? I think I had the same thought as most people when I was growing up, that helicopter pilots were the guys that moved up from flying airplanes...I can hear the groans now from the fixed wing guys...but seriously, I had no idea that you could learn to fly a helicopter without even having to ever see the inside of a Cessna. My other thought was that only ex-military pilots flew helicopters. The only thing I really knew for sure when I was a kid was that I wanted to be pilot. Of anything. Not necessarily a career pilot; owning my own plane or helicopter would have been fine too... Little did I know that owning my own aircraft was probably the biggest pipe dream of all! Nearing the end of high school, the military recruiters show up to preach the virtues of a free education and career with the Canadian Military. I grew up like most boys in the '70's and early '80's, playing guns and war and absolutely loved it (enter an entirely new rant/blog on that subject) but really had no desire whatsoever to go off with the army and get my ass shot off, for real! But maybe the Air Force might be a real avenue to becoming a fighter pilot! So I inquired. I can honestly say that if those boys in the shiny boots could have told me that I would be a fighter pilot if I signed on the dotted line, that I would have signed on that dotted line and never been forgiven by my mother. But they didn't. They told me that I would have to go to Officer Training School, Flight School, blah, blah, blah and then and only then would THEY decide whether I would get to fly jets or Hercules or helicopters. The finishing blow was that it may even be possible that they decide that I was a better Navigator...Are you serious? I might go through all of that, just to have a rewarding career sitting behind the guys driving looking at the map?!?! By that point in my life I was well aware that I get car sick sitting in the back seat. Thanks, but no thanks. Off I go to SFU to major in track and field with a minor in sciences.

This started about the Snowbirds didn't it? I'll get back there, I promise. SFU was fine. In retrospect, I wish I would have stayed a bit longer. But I was lost. I didn't know what I wanted to be when I grew up. So the soul searching started over the SFU course calendar. Nothing, I mean nothing, caught my eye. So I came to the conclusion that I had to look seriously at becoming a pilot. Dream job number one was always flying fighter jets. I didn't want to shoot and kill but I sure as hell wanted to loop and roll and nearly black out from the g-forces! The guys in the shiny boots had already put that dream in perspective. Flying an airliner never even made it into the dreams (until I got older and started to dream of a secure job that didn't involve living in the bush). But helicopters, those looked cool. So I started to look into the fixed wing colleges with the idea that after I had my pilots' license I would get my helicopter rating. That's when I found out that I could go straight to helicopter school and it would only take about 6 months and a ton of money! So I dropped out of University after two years and started saving my money.

The lead up to and completing flight school is certainly a blog on its own. To this day, I would still give my eye teeth to even go for a ride in an F-18 and take the controls. In my mind though, the Snowbirds have THE coolest job in the world. They are quite obviously the best of the best and very dedicated to their trade. They make Canadians proud from Coast to Coast and you rarely hear even the whiniest of tax payer or environmentalist attack the Snowbird program. They flew over our house in formation yesterday afternoon while we were getting ready for the family bike ride. It gave me shivers...real shivers. There I was, looking up and pointing wildly to get the kids attention so they could have that 2 second glimpse as they came into view between the tree tops. I'm sure they didn't share the same excitement for the same reasons as me, but I know they could feel my excitement! So tonight we're going to go and watch the Snowbirds. I hope it will inspire my kids to dream. Not necessarily to be pilots but just to dream. I know I'll have shivers and the dreams will be flowing for me...anyone want a set of well cared for eye teeth?

The Virgin Post

I just finished writing my blog description and I'm wondering if I should have saved most of the description for this first post.... I have carried the idea of starting a blog for quite sometime now. I must admit that now that I've started, I'm really looking forward to unloading some of the stories I've been building in my head. This also comes with a certain apprehension of what you will all think when you read these stories. Like being an adolescent and of the age that you are finally aware that other people are judging what you do. How is this going to sound to other people? Are they going to see the same humour in this that I do? Is it going to change anyone's opinion of me for the worse? I can honestly say that over the past few years I have come to care less and less what other people think of me. This is a revelation for someone who has always been somewhat driven by public opinion. I've never really been afraid to go against the grain or make a spectacle of myself but have always had one eye on the sidelines for the reaction. I think I've finally come to believe completely in my loved ones around me that they will continue to love and admire me for who I am. Thus the lack of fear to put this out there for you all to read.

You can be certain that the stories to come will not necessarily follow chronological order. And they may not be proof read as carefully as they should. Interruptions are another certainty; I have had to walk away from this post several times already to break up fights, answer the phone, stop my youngest from standing on a stool with a sucker in his mouth...you get the idea. My plan is that this blog will be accomplished mostly while I am in camp. It is sure to kill a few hours of boredom during fog days and between logging cycles. My thoughts will certainly follow the winds of how I'm feeling at the time of writing.

The time has come to tap the "publish post" button... We're heading out to go for a family bike ride. I'm sure I could write a complete post on that subject but for now, I'm going to go enjoy myself and enjoy a father's pride in watching my children relish in the freedom that comes with being 6 and 4 and powering your own vehicle.