When we last chatted, I was leaving Ann’s cashmere heaven in Kila, MT for the western delight of Deadwood, SD. This was another B&B gig, second yet, though first in the states and I was excited for all the history in the area.

The gig ended up being only ok. I was to help clean rooms and after the first go-around the wife got kind of mad at me for not cleaning a bathroom well enough and making the bed like “some kind of bachelor”. She was a tad cold after that but oh well. Her loss, per my mother. So, there!! The husband was a charm to be around though, nerdy in a really appealing way. He was pretty well read and could talk shop about some science fiction, which I always appreciate. He was down-to-earth too, never trying to one-up me about literature, and seemed interested in getting to know me. That last point is rarer than you might think. At one point I texted him if a certain set of sheets were ok to use and he texted back Go wild with your bad self. Awesome. It would have been cool to take a road trip with him and leave the wife behind to run the B&B, but that wasn’t happening. The 1899 B&B (which is the year it was built) was a side gig, they both ran what seemed to be a really successful advertising gig full time and were quite busy. The wife may or may not have dug me around, but I rose above, as they say. 

This hail fell down 20 minutes after the sun was out 110% and melted after the sun came right back out. Weird, huh? Go figure, SD.

I kind of forgot to take pictures of the house while there, but I did take a few choice day trips that have pictures as friends. I have found if I don’t take out that camera day one and start snapping pictures it takes a while to get it out. For whatever reason, this is strangely analogous to my issue of never putting away clean laundry if it isn’t folded immediately when it comes out of the dryer. It’s late, quit judging me…

First off was Mt. Rushmore, in Keystone, SD, a mere one hour away from the B&B. The mountain itself was, well, just some heads on a huge rock face and pretty underwhelming as far as things go. It’s also much smaller than you might think. I mean, it’s a beast and hundreds of feet tall, but waaaaayyyyy up that mountain from where we stand it’s smaller than I thought it would be. I mean, look at that picture right there, my head is almost the same size.

Too bad they roped a piece of trash like National Treasure 2 in w/something classic like North By Northwest.

There was a nice trail running in front of the mountain with all kind of facts about this and that. In case you didn’t know, the four presidents featured on the rock face are, from left to right, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Theodore Roosevelt and ole Honest Abe. They represent aspects of this country and its growth. It’s been a few weeks, so don’t quote me, but George represents the founding of the US, Jefferson for the expansion of the US (think Louisiana Purchase), Lincoln for reuniting the country and Roosevelt for the preservation, as he got the national parks idea into motion.

There was info about the sculptor, Gutzon Borglum (what a name, right?) and the process he and his workers went about building this piece. It was all quite informative, but as always people watching became my favorite activity of the day. This is a huge stop for tourists all over the US and the world. I get in the habit of talking to everyone I can these days (travel by yourself for 6 months and you will miss having people around) and met a good number of families on US-wide road trips. Foreigners of all kinds were everywhere too, so I got myself a buffalo burger, parked myself by a thoroughfare and just watched some weird people. A great afternoon. I try to keep racial generalizations to a minimum here at Hey Hunter, but to go all “the hell with it”  between you and I for a hot minute: the true Asians (as opposed to Asian-Americans) tend to dress w/the craziest colors and fashions, European men always tuck their shirts in and are pretty business about it, Hispanic families are large but move efficiently due to a mother hen not taking any shit from anyone and Americans are ironically the most bored with what’s going on around us. These are my findings. Reporting from the front lines…

The second to last day there I fell in with this super cute French couple on holiday and we adventured off for a day together. Somehow I didn’t get a single picture with them (running a great blog here, I know) but Helene, Samir and I did some pretty rad stuff. Our first stop was a taxidermy museum run out of the side of a gas station. It was all real/super exotic and totally built out of the side of a Texaco. Ha! After that we found a military museum out of the Ellsworth Air Force Base in Box Elder, SD. Lots of old planes, informative plaques and tons of old people. Good stuff. The last stop was the buffalo museum in the town adjacent to Deadwood, which outlined the the short and swift decimation of the buffalo at the hands of the white man. It was depressing…but informative as well! I had SO MUCH FUN (and I’m someone who hates all caps) with Helene and Samir that day though. Our falling in together was pretty serendipitous and we spent the whole day just laughing and prying into each others way of life. Samir was Algerian, but raised in France and Helene was French through and through. I wish them all the best in life and thereafter.

My last day in Deadwood was a day trip out to Jewel Cave National Park, which is pretty much as fucking cool as it sounds. Things got pretty dark, damp, claustrophobic, but never not fun! Plus our tour guide was pretty cute, which never hurts:) I think I am going to let these pictures speak for themselves. Pictures, speak thy mind!

From there was a super short (like three days) stay w/Kimberli in Cedar Rapids, IA. It was so short b/c cousin extraordinaire Caitlin Steever hooked me up with free tickets to Riot Fest Chicago if I would cover the event for her friends blog, The Monarch Daily. Not only are concerts cool, but I love to cover things like that so jumped at the chance for a published piece and a press pass. Kimberli in Cedar Rapids didn’t care, she knew that this was a pretty sweet deal so off to Chicago I went.

I’m actually covering two more things this week and am having my pappy visit at the end of it. Don’t quote me on this number, but can you believe he hasn’t been to this city since the early 60s?!?! Paul MaCartney was good looking then! Once things settle down I will build an awesome Chicago post full of sugar, spice and everything nice.

Until then old friend…

Still friends?

My first visit to Montana was to stay with Ann, who runs her own cashmere company she gathers from her quite-bountiful goat farm, again, 76 of those bleating bucks and does altogether. If you’re like me, I didn’t know that cashmere came from goats, but honestly never gave where it came from a single thought to begin with. Quick trivia, a buck is an uncircumcised male goat, like a stallion to a horse, but a circumcised male goat is a wether, like gelding to a horse. Then a female is a doe, like a mare to a horse.

Ok the kids. The really small ones are so cute, it is literally impossible to worry about anything in their presence. I tried really hard to fret on something, but I couldn’t. I’m not sure who of the smaller goats was a “kid” per say, and not some tween goat, so I will just focus on the small white one who I spent lots of time staring at and chasing around to hold. Whitey, who, wait for it, was all white in color, was simply the pinnacle of adorable in my imagination. In fact, he raised that ceiling by miles. He was a little larger than a cat, would get excited and do this bucking around the yard and when bleating (a goat/sheep’s call) would sound almost like an actual human child. Heart breaker, all day. In fact, most of the goats would never shut up but have really interesting noises. It wasn’t super loud or piercing, like a chicken/guinea, but the sort of background noise that was soothing. You know how those weird people buy CDs of the ocean or river sounds at Target or something? I would buy a CD of goat noises, find the “Kids Only” track and put it on repeat, living the dream. I suppose that makes me even weirder than the previous weird people I was just making fun of…

Ann has names for all of her goats and a great relationship w/the little buggers. You might think that’s hard to remember 76 names of similar-looking creatures, but to Ann they are her kids, to use the term more literally than I have been. She talks to them just like I am talking to you right now. And no, I don’t mean she writes a blog post that she later hopes her goats will read, I just mean her dialogue w/them is comically casual. Oh! Well don’t you look comfortable. Bart, get out of the broccoli! Ya dumb goat! Orville, quit being a bully! This farm was a gold mine for a classic sitcom involving one woman and a bunch of ornery goats. You would watch it, trust me.

Further, let me make a case for goats as farm animals. Their milk is much better for you than a cow’s is. Think about it, a cow is feeding her calf to grow into a 700 lbs beast, whereas a goats usually don’t ever weigh more than a 100 lbs. This makes the fat content much lower. This principle also transfers to the meat content, which tends to be much leaner than cow meat. Further, goats have a much shorter gestation period than cows, meaning more kids! Do a little research if you like. I found goat products are usually much better for you than of a cow.

Ann’s property was super rural. One of my more secluded gigs yet, no doubt. The town of Kila, which totaled to only a street w/a post office and school, was over thirty minutes away. There was a long, wavy road to make your way down, then a gravel country road (that just killed my car) that was about five miles deep as well. I wouldn’t mind living off the beaten path, but it was much too secluded for my tastes. If Ann had ended up being an axe murdered, she would have had no problem disposing of this city kid. Though, to be fair, if I had been the axe murderer, I could have pulled if off w/o much trouble as well:)

But Anne was so cool. We hit it off right away and I knew I was going to be fine here. She may even be my favorite person I have met in my HelpXing adventures. She was funny, chill, didn’t talk all the goddamn time and was quite engaging to be around. Fun gal no doubt. She makes her living (or rather, is in the process of doing so) by selling the cashmere she gathers from her goats. It seems like a pretty lengthy process from goat’s hide, then spun into yarn, then crocheted into a design worth wearing, but ann does it w/ease. She has a huge de-hairing machine that somehow separates the unwanted hair from the from the “oh, so soft” cashmere. Also, she gave up showing her cashmere years ago because she told me she was bored with winning.

My main reason for being there was to help Ann w/her thinning project. She has about 20 acres all together, but was only thinning about 5.5 acres of it. This included cutting down live trees, de-limbing them, and putting them into slash piles. This may sound damaging and immoral to you, but thinning a forest helps to deter forest fires and allows the remaining trees to grow better. It’s so helpful, that the state of Montana will cut you a fat check just for doing it. It has to be done by a certain date, so that is where I come in. Spending five hours a day piling brush can be quite therapeutic, zoning out covered in sap, the sound of the chainsaw patiently lulling you into some dream state. I forgot how much I enjoy totally mindless manual labor. And it’s exercise the whole time, which I normally absolutely hate doing.

I asked Ann the best way to get sap off your skin and she says, let time pass. Nice.

Down the hill of Ann’s property was a nice couple around my age helping out w/the thinning going on around the property in exchange for rent. Daniel, a bit older than I, Hanna, a bit younger than I, and their genuinely cute cute baby Piper Rose. I’ve never seen a baby who smiled so much. Also weird, this baby had a very deep look within her. They said she had an “old soul” which was totally fitting, but I was thinking something along those lines b/f that term was even introduced to me. She would look at you and you could tell she knew something you didn’t. Or rather, that she knows something about you that you didn’t know. It was a really strange vibe but not in a threatening way at all. It would be interesting to meet her 20 years from now. I can tell she will be quite pretty.

The last exciting item of business was Glacier National Park. Slightly disappointingly, I saw no glaciers. Seeing those isn’t exactly a day trip I was told. However, I did see w/o question the most beautiful scenery of my entire life on the drive in. It was called the “Driving-to-the-Sun” road, and aptly named at that. Carved out of the side of a mountain and overseeing canyon dips miles wide, it seemed like one could see clear into Canada. We had a baby w/us so couldn’t do anything serious as far as hikes go, but that was fine. We got in a nice 6 miler down a ravine and back up, so I was happy we got to do a little bit of sweating.

Actually, that’s not all! I almost forgot about the super-friendly polydactyl cat that was there. That’s a cat w/extra toes, which isn’t too big of a deal, but the Ernest Hemingway House in Key West, FL, is known for breeding these types of huge-footed felines. That said, there’s a decent chance (maybe? maybe not…) that this guy’s lineage traces back to the sandy tourist-filled beaches of Key West. If so, he, or rather his parents and parent before, have come quite a long way from South Fla all the way up to Northwestern Montana. Poor guy did a lot struggling so I could get this quite-boring picture of his paw. But this is proof he was there dammit! Also, you may only count five pads there and wonder why I just wasted your time w/this paragraph, but remember that cats have their “thumbs” down below, conveniently covered up by my index finger. Totally worth wrecking this cat’s afternoon.

Thanks again to Ann for hosting me, I had SO much fun at your place. I shall return someday to see your progress around the place which I am sure you will achieve. Good luck w/the the business and those ornery goats! 

Now off to the 1899 Inn located in Deadwood, SD, which sounds pretty promising as far as working gigs go.

More to come!

There I was on the back of some ATV at the mercy of the 13-yr-old driving. From my vantage point, clutching the rear support, I can clearly see the warning label that states this vehicle is never suitable for more than one person, no one under 16 should operate & the driver should always wear a helmet. We’re zero for three on the rules & clocking 37 mph. I’m thinking about ditching my iPod so I can use my left hand for proper support, but after five years of precious music compiling, it seems worth the risk.

From another vantage point we probably look pretty funny. ATVs are pretty huge & James is a skinny youngster. Imagine Barbie jammed into the front of Ken’s Jeep. Then there’s me on the back, naturally as uncoordinated as they come, barely holding on as the hillbilly teen from hell tears across potholes as if some avalanche is closing in. It’s hard to tell if he’s naturally this reckless or ups it a few notches when a wide-eyed city slicker comes through.

Either way, bury me w/my iPod.

My first visit to the weirdly-shaped state of Idaho was the stay w/the Meyer family in Kooskia. W/me in tow is none other than Keyne “Big Momma” Stanford, who I scooped up in Spokane, WA & together we made our few-hour trek into the countryside Idaho. The Meyer family is made up of 8 kids, w/a 15 yr age span – just like my mom – who is one of eight too (formerly, Mary rest her soul). Each of the kids is confident/delightful & the older ones especially took us under their wing w/farming tips & family lore. They really enjoy Keyne’s similar sibling situation & inquired how they were disciplined. Stories of spanking w/a ping-pong paddle (rumor has it that my Grandma’s name was labeled on it) or a hairbrush or whatever was close by brought smiles to my mother’s face as this old-fashioned discipline is not frowned upon in this house either.

After a quick tour of the farm, the first evening we were taken to a country potluck of about 40 people. The whole thing was a little awkward for us, as the only people we “knew” there we had met about three hours ago. My sister Claire would have just died. Ha. I forgot to ask why later, but in the main room where we gathered had about 10 queen-sized beds all lined up in a row. Maybe the house moonlighted as a orphanage? An elderly woman played the accordion & we were taught, of all thing, the Virginia Reel. We of the Stanford/Kennedy crowd all have our roots in VA:)

The farm is hilly & careworn w/the comings & goings of such a large family. They have a few turkey tractors here, which are small, movable structures that turkeys (or chickens) live in. One would move this structure around to allow the grazing animals to feed in specific locations only, while they also spread out their manure for fertilization effects. Google it, it’s a great concept. There are also ducks, chickens, roosters (a blonde one’s personal mission – to wake us up at 5 a.m. w/a dozen consecutive cock-a-doodle-doos, the rat) & pigeons which get released daily. Marian, the eldest of the Brady Bunch kids, lets us do a little milking, then proceeds to effortlessly tenfold our five-minute effort in a matter of seconds w/her superior method. I dug the goat milk but I could tell Keyne was holding out for her cow stuff back in the city.

Keyne mostly helped Elizabeth (the mom) in her huge garden – weeding, planting, watering & harvesting. What a treat just to pick & eat tender raspberries. The ladies picked all the kale to clear it for a new crop and mum juiced the leaves. We would shake the wild plum tree – plums the size of cherry tomatoes – gather the little guys, juice them & make jelly. They had hundreds of cans in the back room, mostly jellies & such.

We fit into our gender-specific roles pretty well here. Again, Keyne in the garden/kitchen & me outside w/the dad (Jim) on some carpentry gig. The men (besides me, who is probably not considered 100% A MAN out here) are never ever seen in the kitchen & the women never work w/tools or build anything. Jim is the patriarch of the family & his word is law in a way you have never seen. The kids wait on him bringing him water/food & whatever else he asks for. There is never a please, a thank you & he never needs to repeat himself. His opinions are those the entire family restates. He carries a handgun at all times & is very outspoken about his faith/politics. One weekend the whole family gets stomach flu, one by one; Keyne & I eventually succumb. The day Jim gets it, the whole farm shuts down & the coveted videos entertain the kids who otherwise never watch TV. They just LOVE The Beverly Hillbillies, which I think is pretty dated, but I gathered the mom likes those old-fashioned views for her kids. They ate it up, even though they had seen every one what seemed like a number of times.

This raccoon, otherwise minding it’s own business, was shot & killed late Saturday evening. There are no current leads to the murder.

The youngest kids are extra fun. Hally, the one-year-old, pictured to the left, is quite active for someone that young. I didn’t think much of it, but my mom seemed nothing short of amazed that someone so young had the run of the entire farm to herself, toddling out to the garden or sauna to find her parents. How different her experiences & motor skills must be compared to a toddler growing up in an apartment. The three-year-old Amanah, we noticed had super-short bangs & we kind of knew why (she cut her own hair) but didn’t want to ask as fashion doesn’t seem important way out here. The five & seven-year-old boys (Barack & Talon, great names) we almost never see as they fish all day in the pond up the road. What a life.

We grow very fond of the 10-year-old Margaret, who tells long (but cute) stories punctuated w/ “and guess what happens next?” & won’t move on until you’ve guessed at least three times, though that’s usually a rhetorical question. She & I moved wood one morning and I was right below my capacity for the lifting & noticed she was having a hard time too. Apparently I am only a little stronger than this ten-year-old girl. I’d also like to note here I beat every older child in arm wrestling, albeit mostly girls. I’ll take it. 

Marian, the oldest -far right in the picture above- hopes to become either a chef or a midwife (indeed she’s attended the births of the younger siblings & knows all the birthing language) someday unless she “gets married early” she says. My mother noted it’s hard not to think such a bright, attractive, mature young lady could have a brilliant career. Whatever those kids do, they just need to leave Kooskia & Idaho for a few years. They have great parents no doubt, but only a small selection of view points survive on that farm.

We probably didn’t work as hard as we could have w/the flu cropping up all week, though everyone had it at some point so they were understanding when we did. In fact, Keyne got a cake but was so sick on her birthday (happy 57th Keyne!) that we only got a quick pic w/the cake before rushing off to the airport. We did appreciate the way the whole family embraced us city slickers & hope in turn we were able to somehow bring in the outside world to such a hardworking clan.

Plus, Keyne didn’t flee East via Greyhound day two on the farm, which means brother Bret owes me $20 cash:)

My next set of BFFs was the kindly folks of the Blades Homestead, aka Adria, Josh and the handsome twin-baby superstars of Arlen and Ewan. These are friends of the post-before-last Hunter Homestead. Those past hosts took me on a choice beach trip to the Pacific and these new hosts were their friends who met us there. I brought up I was interested in coming to stay, since I knew they were interested in hosting and the rest fell into place:) Their property hosts a huge garden and I had the privilege of occupying a tent overnight in the thick of it all. Slept like a baby.

Adria is a photographer and Josh runs a landscaping business around Victoria. There was a framed picture I noticed of a radiant/pregnant Kirsten Hunter hung up at the Hunter Homestead and I found out that Adria took the picture. I like things like that. Full circle stuff…it makes the world go ’round, no?.

Josh runs what seems like to me a dream job. He works outside everyday (check), is his own boss (check check) and gets to exercise some creativity while helping the world grow (fat check). He has two employees and I had the pleasure of working w/one of them for an afternoon. Josh is really easy/fun to be around, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise that his employee was too. Sebastian and I were joking around w/each right away and shared a lot of similar experiences in college (Canadians only use the word college to talk about what we think of as a technical college. They say say “university” when we say college) and life thereafter. Paralleled vices/virtues.

My work here was around-the-house/garden help. The real noteworthy project was the tire-made stairs we spent about two days completing. I had the only hand in day one, using the coveted b-day Ipod mix to push me thru 7 hours of in-the-sun labour. I did this on my own volition of course, sometime you just get into projects and have to finish it! Day two was led by Josh, who had great ideas to add tiers up the sides of the hill, thus flattening portions of land so he could put in some plants. It looked pretty slick I must say.

Thanks to Adria for contributing some of her work of the Blades’ garden. Photo credit to the left. Check out her work sometime.

Now I am in Seattle w/the great Cameron Hypes until Monday, when I will pick up momma Keyne in Spokane, WA, and head to Kooskia, ID, for a week of farm fun. This will be her first time to the West and her…57th b-day is this Saturday:) Can you believe I talked her into coming way out here? The Stanford-family adventure starts tomorrow!

I miss all my friends in Texas, Florida, New York, Colorado and elsewhere further.

More to come!

This is place is right out of movie. Or even a dream. Or MAYBE a movie within a dream?!?! That seems more ethereal. It sits on top of a mountain, due south the Pacific Ocean dips between two more mountains/huge hills/whatever into a river form below with the white-tipped Cascades Mt chain keeping guard over it all way in the distance. Even though it doesn’t seem like good business practice to me, the HelpXer are allowed to stay in the suites when the room is available, as opposed to the room above the barn. I got to stay in Suite One only on my first and DANG I didn’t get any pictures of the one. Someday, when my peak salary hits, we can then multiply that number by ten, and then maybe, maybe, I could afford to stay in this room. Classy joint.

Also w/me HelpXing was a really cool Aussie duo, Kym and Luke. Because the joint got pretty busy, we all relocated to the room above the barn and got pretty close working together all week. And these guys had really good work ethic. We all know us Americans can be a little on the lazy side so I had to be in top form. It was mostly Luke and I working together fixing up the HelpX room in the barn throughout the week, as Kym helped out cleaning rooms in the B&B. Way to break down those gender stereotypes Prancing Horse.

Luke and I worked pretty hard all week. We used long iron pikes to break up stone to widen a mouth of the newly-installed septic tank outside the barn. I felt like Paul Newman from Cool Hand Luke. We also completely flipped the HelpX room above the barn, painting every painstaking inch and getting all the mechanics working around the room. We joked for days we wished we had gotten some before-and-after pics of our work. This room was a God-forsaken shed when we showed up, now it’s a hillbilly-approved God-forsaken room.  Any lady would be lucky:)

Al is one of those country dudes who has (or had) some serious money at some point and his life and loves to collect [junk], and you can see a great view of that into what we put in the room. He had well over 100 beer light advertisements that went up in bars back yonder and we preceded to cover the walls in them. Just…fantastic. Al also owns a classy amarillo (spanish anyone?) Ferrari sleeping in one of the garages. I like to see he’s committed to the name of his B&B.

Even though we got worked pretty hard at this gig, the food was great, we ate together for lunch and dinner, which was a first among my travels and everyone there had a “pretty bitchin’ sense of humor”, as they say.

LOOK at this nothing-short-of-legendary VHS collection

They brewed their own Prancing Horse Pilsner (which was branded to match the company but wasn’t ever given to customers, which I found confusing) that were passed out with dinner. We would all talk about the problems in our home countries and laugh about the different ways we said and experienced the same words. The Aussies share all kinds of slang with New Zealanders (Kiwis) and Canadians, all because of the British. You can see it in the currency, the flags and (kind of, but not really) the governing bodies of these countries/continents/MASSIVE land masses. Australia is bigger, but go look at Canada on a map. It’s much bigger than you think it is.

We had one afternoon off (which I kind of had to fight for) to go out and have some fun. The Aussies had been there for almost three weeks so had seen this and that, but I wanted to get to a bit of the area. It was nothing super special -a little time on the ocean coast then a walk around the lake next to the B&B on the way home- but the three of us had a solid time. They’re really good people, the Aussies, w/o a doubt some of my favorite to have met on this trip. We laughed and teased and conspired like old friends. Hopefully I will run into them in the future sometime. I know Luke wants to travel more so perhaps I will proposition him for a planned trip abroad in the future…? All I really know right now is I want to travel more and not settle down. The in-betweens are flexible. Make some money??? Flexible.

At least the second-most awkward photo in this travel blog

And just while I’m thinking of it, 91.3 FM The Zone is a fantastic radio station broadcasted out of Victoria, BC. I heard exclusively songs I didn’t know but loved all the time. Check it out if you’re looking for new jams. No doubt they stream online.

Lastly, the farm structure underneath the hillbilly room we stayed in was pretty sweet. There were three sassy horses, two good-natured pigs and an almost-comatose cow w/her calf. That last pair was cute in a weird way I’m a little bit embarrassed to admit.

That’s it Malahat, BC! I head back into the city of Victoria to stay w/Adria and Josh Blades, who are friends of the Hunter Homestead that I met on a choice beach trip.

More to come!

After about an hour of questioning and pulling basically everything out of my car they ended up letting me in. I have a sheet of paper I give US customs on my way out saying I left, and if that doesn’t happen (as in if I stay past 30 days) a warrant goes out for arrest. Yay Canada.

ANYWAY, I got into the country and made my way the to Hunter Homestead. My fist hosts for Canada have the last name of Hunter! How could this NOT work out? It’s like we’re related or something. They are maybe a few years older than I, Blake and Kirsten, but she goes by the Putu as a nod to her First Nations roots. We say Native Americans, they say First Nations, now you know.

I’ve been on a great streak for hosts and they were no exception. Right off the bat we were laughing and teasing each other and all other jazz old friends do. Blake runs his own business selling help seeds and oils (which is produced off of his family farm in Saskatchewan) and Putu works for BC dealing in human trafficking issues.

This was my first “in the city” gig. The last one in Bellingham was outside of the city proper and still very much has a country vibe. The Hunter Homestead a little outside of Victoria proper but quite residential nonetheless. I have a bike with me and got the most use of it of any gig yet. They live next to what’s called the Galloping Goose bike trail which runs all over Vancouver Island but more importantly runs a direct trail from the Hunter Homestead into downtown running next to a road for maybe 200 yards tops. This thing intersects the city like a champ.

This city is quite old and it shows. Canada is interesting because of the influence the UK, France and America all have on it and the resulting culture. Music was all over the place (a la ATX) and the weather was totally fabulous everyday.  Further, I read on a blog that Victoria has four women for every guy and it shows. Gorgeous women were everywhere.

I went to something called the Bug’s Zoo while in Victoria and it was pretty slick. Even though I was a little disappointed to shell out $12 to walk into one big room, they had some really bizarre stuff and if you followed the guide you could hold almost everything. The highlights were a stick bug that was about as long as your arm and a katydid who was about the size of a small horse. They also had a particular cockroach who has made a visit to my nightmares every night since. He was huge and he hissed and it was horrible. The thing would quiver as it hissed and I’m almost certain it was silently chanting my name. I’m going to change the subject..

So mostly for the week I hung out with the Hunter Homestead crowd, biked downtown and did begrudgingly kept up with my insurance work. At first I was totally bummed that these hosts didn’t have internet, but that made me go different locations to get my work done and the work was much easier. Turns out I waste tons of time on soul-sucking sites such as Facebook and TheChive when I’m sitting around with nothing to do. Instead, while at home, with no internet, I practiced guitar like never before and read a bunch. Just started Fools Die by Mario Puzo, the guy who wrote The Godfather book. Good stuff people. To the left is Asher, the Hunter’s SUPER CUTE son. We bonded like WHOA and I’m positive I had a pivotal influence on his life. If we never speak again, I fully expect to be credited in his Best Picture speech.

The baby looks uncomfortable for reasons completely unrelated to me holding him. He told me.

Thanks again to the Hunter Homestead for hosting a fellow Hunter. Favorite HelpX so far! From here I head to the Prancing Horse B&B in Malahat, BC.

More to come!

I know this picture is almost cliche Washington State, but the weather was actually quite nice the entire time. Apparently these guys have about three months or so of good weather then the rest of the year is doomed to cloudy, cold weather. I tried to make a few Sleepless in Seattle jokes but they were over it lol. Oh well. Anyway, John and Catrina, plus their daughter Gina were all a lot of fun to stay with. I’ve always found that people who live on the water tend to more fun than others and that view doesn’t seem to be limited to the East Coast. These guys knew how to open a bottle of wine:)

Every morning I would wake up around eight, grab a Mountain Dew (I know, absolutely pathetic, but I’m weak around soda) and woke up to a dip in the Jacuzzi. Their son lived down the lake and seemed like him and his friends had been born into skis and were pretty slick out on that lake.

Apparently people who are pretty good usually do what’s called slalom, which is two feet on one ski, and that gives you more mobility. I was able to get up on two skis, the standard you’re probably thinking of right now, but I tried the one ski deal and couldn’t manage to stand up. Only, fall and embarrass myself. The usual. We didn’t do as much sailing as I would have liked, but this first-world warrior will soldier on despite not getting exactly what he wants all the time.

I know this is kind of weird, but LOOK how cute this slug is.

Washington State is different to me because of how much it rains. I come from places where we get together in groups and dance around cul-de-sacs until the rain comes. The mountains here (they laughed at me when I called these mountains) are covered in green. Not a spot you can see that isn’t a tree. Rainforests aren’t at all limited to the tropics, they were all over the place here.

From what people say about the weather, I think I would hate hate hate this place if I was visiting at any other time of the year. And Vice-a-Versa, if this area was like this all the time, everyone would want to live here. That pic to the right is a view from the boat up to the house, which is the residence to the left. You can’t really see, but if you squint I am at the end of that rope. Water skiing came pretty naturally to me, as far as getting up. I went once in middle school and all I remember is I couldn’t stand up. With (hopefully) a little more upper-body strength since then, I was able to get up the third time around. Apparently most people who are pretty good don’t ride the doubles (except for jumping) but use the slalom, which is two feet on one ski. I tried this for a few and didn’t manage to stand. Lack of upper-body strength rears its ugly head once more.

There’s a picture of me to the left looking rightfully awkward in those skis. I’m skeptical that this is correct, but the Bremer son who lived up the lake told me that waterskiing burns the most calories per minute of any sport. Now, I could believe it, b/c your whole body tenses up and there’s well over 100lbs pulling you from the front, but it would just seem to me that some other activity besides this would burn more.

I mean, to play the other side, all your doing is holding on. But it is hard, and my arms were hella sore after each session. Though, falling was my favorite part:)

Thanks to oh-so-cool John and Catrina Bremer for hosting. Understand my shirt??

So I am in Canada as I type this but I will end this post with leaving the US and start the next with me arriving in this great country.

Alas, my time comes to an end w/John and Catrina and I head to the Hunter Homestead (more on that soon) in Victoria, BC. Now, check out this map below. That isn’t the exact route I took to get there, but I wanted to show you that there’s a portion of Canada that dips below the top of Wash St and further West. I didn’t know that either! Just so everyone is up to speed, that black line running through the image is the line where our nice country ends and their’s starts. So, some of you gifted children might have noticed (or already knew) that Victoria sits on an island. Or, easier, the route to the left shows the path crossing water. Ferry? Heck yes! Though it was a little pricey, Nancy and I boarded a ferry in Anacordes, WA and landed in Sydney, BC. Good times were had.

Good Lord I can’t get these photos to align properly. Anyway, right above you can see old girl Nancy nestled into a ferry quite nice. She was quite a hit aboard the ship, I must say. The ferry took about two hours, was $65-ish and weaved through the San Juan Islands the whole time. I was just surprised how fast is went. We outran every boat we came up across. Average speed of…30 knots? (I completely made that up)

Aboard the ferry! This is it for me and States for the next month…

If you still don’t get the shirt…think BLT…

More to come!

At the beginning I got a little lonely because there wasn’t anyone there my age or humor level (ie – no one here is really immature). However, and these are key reasons I went on this trip, I stuck it out for a few days and found I had tons in common with these folks. I love cards, so do they, I like to tease people I like and SO DO THEY! We’re all currently besties thank you very much.

As promised, I’ve gotten to go up in a few small airplanes. The first was an CR-4, a sporty little number with this guy named Tom. I think that was his name.

This thing was slick. Average cruising speed of about 150mph and we did a few dives and got up to 4gs. For those 5th graders reading this blog, a G is normal amount of gravity, something like 9.8 lbs per square inch. Two Gs is twice that and so on and so forth.

What was cool was how much you FEEL like you’re in a plane. There’s a small compartment up front, but the only room in this guy is for you to sit. The propeller is RIGHT there and every change in the plane’s direction you can feel. When you ride a commercial jet you have to look out the window to know you’re actually in the air. This thing had great maneuverability and Tom did some pretty cool stuff.

And then!

So that was about ten days ago or so. It was my second day here.

Then on Thursday this great older guy I met took me up in his Pietenpol (peet-in-pole). This was a plane that was popular in the late 1920s. Now, obviously this isn’t a plane from the 20s, but a plan that was followed.

Of course I didn’t take a picture of the whole plane, but look how cool it is!

This guy’s name was Gil and he was pretty rad. He had been flying since the early 50s and had been able to see the change from propeller-driven planes to the jet-drive ones. Of course my camera ran out of batteries half-way into the flight, so I couldn’t get a picture with this gem of an old man, but you can see him beside me in that picture to the left. This is the kind of guy who starts out a movie with a story and is the narrator the whole time, telling you his life story, as a younger him acts it all out. We talked for well over an hour after the flight and I wish I could have recorded the conversation. He was sharp as a tack, funny, and just so kind.

I asked what these weird circles were for seriously no less than a dozen times but I’ve forgotten.

Metaphor time! If the initial plane (the CR-4) was a pretty sweet roller coaster right out of Islands of Adventure (a wink to my boss FL friends) then the Pietenpol was like riding Falcor from The Neverending Story. I know I know, why would I ever want ride some stinking coaster when Falcor is ready to rumble? I’m afraid I’m not licensed to answer that question:)

This was my favorite part about the whole plane riding in general. This is a FAA-regulated warning because both of the planes are home-built projects.

They basically say, “Hey passenger, some dude built this, and then no one official really looked over it, so good luck with that.”

Honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

This thing lands like a dream…

So if you’re just joining us, which all of you are, because I just started this blog, then I need to update you that the NM farm didn’t exactly work out. Arvo yelled a lot and I wasn’t really digging it. After more drama than I’m going to divulge here I left in the middle of the night, stayed with a great stranger I met in Chama, NM, named Che, who put a lost soul up for a few days while I decided on what to do next. Never forget that guy, great hospitality. Took me off roading, fed me and was just a nice nice guy. With me from Arvo’s was Rachel and Clemmy, who left on better and different terms than I. We all parted ways within a few days. Cute girls:)

Move two turned out to be Gillian in Ordway, CO. She was pretty nice and the accommodations were, well, interesting. She was an older Kiwi who had a great accent and would say things like, “Huntah, go get the shovel, it’s in the gay-rah-ge”. Nice lady. She had a few motor homes around her house we could stay in and most of the work consisted of livestock jazz and carpentry. Cute animals were everywhere!

This is actually mostly pictures of Joy’s, who was a great neighbor who let some of us come over and ride horses.

Anyway! While at Gillian’s, there was this cute German girl name Ina. I pretty much liked everything about her. She was very down-to-earth, funny and had never been to the US before, which means she learned her english in England, and had what I thought as a funny way to say things. This is her w/some dog who was terrified of everything, including her…

Both her and Gillian spoke British English, as opposed to American English. Ina because she learned english in England and Gillian because the British have all kinds of influence (or did) in New Zealand and she’s a Kiwi.

They said things like, flat instead of apartment, petrol instead of gasoline. But the BEST difference was that they pronounced aluminum phonetically. As in, al-oo-min-ee-um. Good stuff.

As was mentioned before, Gillian had a nice neighbor named Joy who let Ina and I come over and ride some horses. This is actually why Ina was here in CO to begin with. She was on a month-long vacation (which she told me is the norm in Europe) and was spending some time here to ride horses. Gillian generally lends her helpers out to neighbors so they can get a few afternoons of work as well. So Ina and I would head over there some afternoons and do some work, then get to ride in the afternoon. What’s great is that letting us ride was really good for Joy. Her horses are “broken” to ride, and need all the riding they can get to stay in the groove. In other words, we were doing her as much as a favor as she was doing for us.

This is Ina, Gillian and myself is a great, awkward, just truly me kind of picture:)

So this gig lasted in the two weeks range. I mentioned that Gillian likes to lend out her Help Ex to neighbors, so from here in Ordway I headed to Ellicott to stay with Jim and Darlene at the Springs East Airport. With me was great friend who came biking through Gillian’s name Jin. Great guy, I wish him the best!