As the Gatineau River runs, like three tributaries, my children flow steadily westward and fortunately for them, water surrounds them all from the Ottawa River to Lake Ontario to Dawson Creek, BC. And like the river, time keeps on flowing through the ages and the years keep rolling by.
It had been 5 years since last I travelled to B.C. to visit my eldest son Shaun and family. During a summer of fires and smoke, it was decided that I would visit for Halloween – a BC Henry happening – and stay for Remembrance Day. Flight booked in July was changed three times with destinations changed and legs added. Ugh! From what I hear, this seems to be the norm.
Departure and Arrival
October 28 – Up at 4 am to catch a flight to Calgary. All systems go – flight left on time and there was no turbulence as we sailed across a clear blue sky. Once we touched down, I was to send Shaun a quick text to tell him I had landed so he could set out to Grand Prairie to pick me up. Well, not so lucky. A fellow-passenger sitting in front of me advised that the 11 a.m. flight to Grand Prairie was cancelled and the next one would be at 11:30 p.m.! I hastened to text Shaun on developments.
I deplaned and rushed to join the line of those speaking to a West Jet agent about flight connections missed and alternative departure times. Said West Jet agent had clearly not read the customer service manual and was absurdly threatening. At the end of a rather unpleasant encounter, I was “pleased” to be on a 3:30 p.m. flight!
A lovely flight to Grand Prairie and all the lovelier to see the Henry boys – Shaun, Julian, Dominic, Russell and Felix – grinning as I entered the terminal, all but Shaun in shorts and Felix in pajamas. Russell had added a certain sartorial panache and was sporting the coolest cowboy boots. Trust me, it was not that warm in GP, but as Shaun would say, “that is how they roll.”
We rolled on down the highway across the prairies and toward the foothills of the Rockies into the setting sun. Happy was I to get to my final destination where my daughter-in-law Catherine welcomed me with open arms and I began two weeks of what my brother would have referred to as jollification.
Shaun and Catherine live minutes from the Dawson creek and paths which meander along its banks and through woods of Aspen where there is much evidence of beaver and moose activity. From the woods and crossing into farmers’ fields Blizzard, the family dog and I daily trod. Looking off in the distance, one could see the constant movement of oil and gas trucks travelling up and down the highway.
The western skies were breathtaking and I was captured by the sheer expanse of it. Many mornings brought sunrises that took your breath away as the sky was on fire and moved across the spectrum from red to pink to hello sunshine. The air was crisp and clear and I think back on the ill effects of fire in the sky from this past summer and summers before, with toxic smoke and skies so hazy it was hard to tell day from night.
All Hallows’ Eve
Halloween was all I expected from this creative crew and the energy level in anticipation of all that candy was high. Add into the mix, a gathering of friends and their families to eat pizza and join in the trick or treating and it was high octane in oil and gas country! Suffice to say, I was happy to be on door-duty when all set out for trick or treats and a visit to the haunted house.
Between Halloween and Remembrance Day, which bookended my visit, I had occasion to watch the boys take to the ice. They all play hockey, one curls, one figure skates, and all rock and roll from one thing to the next.
La vie sportive
With a passion for judo and having earned his black belt, Shaun not only practices but instructs and judo is a family affair. While in some ways, all the activity can take ones breath away, I have to say that the marvellous thing about Dawson Creek is the ease of getting around. The streets are numbered and on a grid that made it possible for me to shuttle the kids to one thing or another and give my daughter-in-law time to work on a contract and a paper for her education program! Nuts not far from tree. I may be a Gogo but I pale by comparison in terms of go-go!
Beyond the fun of watching the boys skate, I was treated to a U18 girls hockey game between Saskatchewan and Atlantic Canada. Friends of Shaun and Catherine hale from Newfoundland so we rooted loudly for Atlantic. Therein lies a curious connection as you will discover as I conclude this memoire.
The proximity to the foothills is a gift for a family who loves to ski and snowboard and I was happy to visit Bear Mountain to get Dominic’s new-to-you skis and to explore the snowshoe and cross-country ski trails. Beautiful.
Explorations
A fan of a local thrift shop, Rupert’s treasures, and all about the circular economy, I was interested to see BB’s thrift and vintage store right next to the Judo Dojo. BB’s offers everything from clothing to nuts and bolts, pots and pans, armoires, lamps, books, ornaments, the list goes on and on. While waiting for one Judo class to finish, I was happy to venture next door, with one grandson or another. I almost bought a ‘made in the UK’ professional dart board with Dominic, but thought better of it. I did score a circular blue scarf for Russell which we ended up getting for free because there was a pulled thread. BB you’re the best.
Imitation is the greatest form of flattery and very quickly Felix felt the need to copy his brother (who I might add was looking very dashing in his new scarf) and another scarf was purchased along with a much-needed lamp for the living room!
Did I explore local eateries? I did. Well, mostly coffee shops. One of my favourites was Hug-a-Mug. The staff was utterly delightful. The ambience great with a big world map on the wall and works of local artists available for purchase on the walls. Delicious coffee and pastries, I was happy to Wordle and Wordiply for an hour!
And then there is Faking Sanity. The best name ever and how appropriate for, dare I say it, all of us at one time or another!
I first discovered the charm of Faking Sanity when Catherine brought me there in 2018. A cozy little shop filled with shelves of secondhand books, knitted wear and supplies and owners who provided you with tea or coffee while your browsed. What was not to like?! I thought of my former chums on the 921 bus, so many knitters and readers who would love this place.
Since my 2018 visit the shop had relocated to the main drag and expanded its space with tables and chairs where you can actually sit and peruse the books. Not only did I enjoy one of the best Rooibos teas but I had two memorable encounters that made my spirit sing!
Standing at the counter, ordering my tea, I stood next to two young ladies waiting for their lattes. One of the girls turned to the other and said, “There is nothing better than a good cup of tea and a good book.” I literally turned to the girls and said, “I love you girls, you have restored my faith in the youth of tomorrow.” They grinned and we all had a good laugh.
My second encounter, standing at the counter on my way out this time, was precipitated by my comments about how much I loved this store and that I had visited the old store on my previous visit and was so happy with the new store and location. One of the owners asked where I was from, and I said a small town in Quebec. The co-owner popped out from the knitting section and asked me where in Quebec. I mentioned Wakefield, and he said, I am from the Knowlton in the Eastern Townships. To which I replied, “I know it well, my daughter went to Bishop’s.” From behind the stalls a man popped his head out and asked me if I was buying a Louise Penny book. To which I replied. “ no” but that I had read many of her books. He responded by saying, “She is my sister.” What a wonderful chance encounter that led to a delightful chat on people, places and connections! Reminded me a bit of Solstice in Wakefield where I enjoyed many such encounters and long chats with fellow bibliophiles and local authors. These gems serve to bring people together and provide a refuge from the ills of the world. Wherever I am, I always find the local bookstore, a pleasure engrained in me by my mother.
Arts and Culture
Snow and ice figure largely in Northern culture as do big trucks, campers and caravans. In fact, driving past Mandeep’s hair salon and spa in Pouce Coupe (a hamlet 15 minutes away from Dawson Creek) I saw an RV Museum. That did give me pause.
I was humbled in being quick to judge as passing through Pouce Coupe on my way to Grand Prairie, I saw a beautiful metal sculpture of a horse and plow out the van window. I was struck by the power of art to capture the history of place. A century ago Pouce Coupe had been a thriving agricultural community and a stop on the rail line heading north.
Dawson Creek boasts a unique art gallery dedicated to the presentation, interpretation and advancement of the visual arts. With a nod to its cultural heritage, the gallery is housed in a prairie grain elevator and ramps wind their way upwards with the walls displaying works from local artists as well as featuring regional and touring expositions. I could not resist. I bought a cheery, colourful acrylic montage by a local artist.
Considering that I live so far away and don’t see the boys that often, the next evening we played a little game – How well do you know Grandma Yolo (the moniker given to me by the BC family)? The game was to be a precursor to the giving of a few gifts. To prompt them a bit, I asked, “What do you see when you come to my house?” Julian responded quickly with, “books.” To which I had to smile and said, “True, anything else?” Dominic, whose drawings show great skill and promise, yelled out, “paintings.” Nailed it. Tada, they know me well. Thereafter, the presentation of books for each boy and a new painting for the family.
Shaun graciously hung the painting the next day. It hangs next to a small painting of Lake Bled in Slovenia, a place much loved by Shaun and Catherine and which so inspired them, their first born was named after the Julian alps.
On the wall where the painting now hangs, is a painting by Wakefield’s artist Marjolijn Thie, a whimsical piece interpretation of Wakefield with floating houses and the red-spired Anglican church in Wakefield. East meets West and places in between.
Photo of wall with 3 paintings*
War and Remembrance
The Friday before Remembrance Day as my visit was coming to an end, I visited Frank Ross Elementary (where Shaun serves as Principal) to attend its Remembrance Day Service.
Historically, for those who may not know, Dawson Creek has a very unique connection to the Second World War. Dawson Creek’s town centre sits at mile zero of the Alaska Highway. The highway was built following the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941 and a push by the US government to connect an overland route from Dawson Creek to Delta Junction, Alaska,. Entering the war, the US government was keen for a route to move troops and material north to Alaska to defend again potential further attacks by Japan.
Sitting at mile 20 of the old Alaska Highway is the Kiskatinaw Bridge, a three span, timber truss bridge which extends about 30 metres (100 feet) above the Kiskatinaw River. The shape of the valley and the wacky sharp turn in the river forced engineers to come up with a plan to build a banked curved bridge. The engineers created the 190 foot wooden bridge with a 9 degree curve to conform with the bend of the highway. Built by a Canadian company, the construction of the bridge took 9 months to complete. It was the first curved wooden bridge built in Canada and considered an engineering marvel.
As Catherine and I pulled into the Frank Ross parking lot to attend the Remembrance Day service, I saw orange ribbons on the fences surrounding the school, spelling out, “Every Child Matters,” “Chaque Enfant Compte.” I asked Catherine who had initiated this moving and powerful reminder of our shameful historical legacy and the need for redress beyond truth and reconciliation. Catherine replied, “Your son.” Frank Ross you are in good hands.
We gathered in the auditorium for the Remembrance Day service and one of the classes performing sang of peace and it “beginning with me, in my heart.” I thought how lucky my grandchildren were to have lives free of want and far from war.
Weather
Let me switch to the rather banal, but increasingly more and more critical subject, the weather.
Thankfully, from the perspective of my visit, the temperatures were warmer than seasonal. In fact Shaun was somewhat thwarted on moving forward with the backyard rink. We did manage a family outing to the cross-country ski and snowshoe trails at Bear Mountain the day before my departure. A stop at a yurt for hot chocolate and a chance to admire the vista of the city below, it was the perfect conclusion to a wonderful visit, made all the more perfect by a night sky where green northern lights shimmered, waving me goodbye.
Photo of all of us and Blizzard and northern lights
À la prochaine
A gorgeous sunny day boded well for my return flight home. We loaded my carry-on into the van along with the bundle of boys. A warm hug for Catherine and a mutual shout out of à la prochaine, and we were off down the road to Grand Prairie. The hills receded into the distance as we headed into Alberta and quickly arrived at the airport.
Shaun accompanied me to the departure area, where what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a gaggle of girls and all their hockey gear.
This is where my story comes full circle. Lying on their luggage and hockey bags were the victors of the U18 girls hockey championship, Team Ontario and our favourite, Team Atlantic.
I was encouraged to go through security before all the girls. A final goodbye to Shaun and I was through the glass doors. A lovely encounter with the security folks but disappointing news, my flight was delayed, the plane had a mechanical and it would be an hour and a half before a larger plane would be flown up to take us on to Calgary and connecting flights.
This was not good as I only had only had an hour to make the connecting flight to Toronto and on to Ottawa. Texts flew between Shaun and I. Phone calls were made to WestJet, who advised the next flight to Toronto was at 5:30 p.m. and completely full. I might try stand-by. Could they hold the plane? Nope. Basically it was, too bad, so sad, we’ll send you a link to insurance forms. As visions of overnighting in Calgary or Toronto danced through my head, I left the departure lounge and tried to talk to an agent re possible solutions to my predicament. Shaun had even circled back to join me and provide moral support, even offering the possibility of a bed in Calgary with old friends.
By then, the plane to Calgary had arrived. Now, the last one through security, I boarded my flight with a feeling of dread for the long day’s journey into night. Seatbelt fastened, the pilot announced that the bigger jet would make the flight in under an hour. Woohoo, hope springs eternal. With any luck, we might make our connecting flight. Second announcement came on 10 minutes later to advise that a smaller ground crew was trying to load the many hockey bags into the aircraft and they were not used to the hold of the bigger plane. Are you kidding me?! Delayed. There was a collective groan from the U18 Atlantic team and me. Our high hopes for that plane to Toronto and making our Halifax or Ottawa connections were dashed.
Once up and away, my faint hope was that the flight from Calgary would be delayed for one reason or another. Touch down and as we taxied in to the airport, the pilot announced that the flight to Toronto had been DELAYED!!! Furthermore, passengers were told to remain seated until all needing to make this connection had deplaned. A whoop went up from the Atlantic team and me, and we dashed.
Once strapped in for the next leg, I asked the passenger sitting next to me if she knew why the flight had been delayed. With a heavy sigh she said, “They were holding the plane for the Atlantic girl’s U18 hockey team.” I grinned thinking to myself, Yay Atlantic!!! I texted Catherine to tell her of my good fortune and she replied, “they heard you cheering at the arena in Dawson Creek.” What can I say, we are a hockey country and I was never happier that we are.
Postscript
“They say that in old age the long-term memory becomes vivid, punches its fist through the skin of the present, insists on being heard and seen and felt.”
Austin Fraser
(Quoted in Jane Urquhart’s novel The Underpainter – purchased at Faking Sanity, Dawson Creek, November 2023)
Wandering Wakefield 