Riled Blue Yonder - YEG Airshow 2021 - Pt. 2

Big, noisy, shiny jets are a tough act to follow, but the firebombing demo that came after the Growlers was a great palate cleanser, and proved that aerial precision and teamwork are in no way the exclusive domain of the military!

The KC-135 tanker demo that followed left a bit to be desired, frankly, as we were under the impression there would be an air to air refueling demonstration with some kind of fighters trailing the big jet. Sadly, all we got were some passes with the fueling boom extended. Still cool to see after three years with no airshows though!

For military aviation buffs though, the big draw was the A-10 Thunderbolt II ground-attack aircraft - more commonly known as "the Warthog."

A plane designed from the ground up around its principal armament - a 30mm, 7-barrel gatling gun capable of firing milk-bottle-sized rounds with shells made of depleted uranium. These super-bullets will penetrate most armoured vehicles like their protection is made out of chiffon, they deliver 7 times the energy of a comparable 20mm Vulcan round, and the 'Hog can fire 70 of them every second.

The one that flew our demo was painted up in legacy colours, with its livery matching those of their squadron's F-105 Thunderchiefs which flew ground support fire missions in Vietnam. The names below the cockpit are missing and killed aviators from that conflict.

Almost half the A-10's wing surface is aileron (the flippy turny bit), allowing the Warthog to make impossibly tight turns and get that GAU-8 cannon back on target as quickly as possible. Even though the engines are designed to be quieter than those on a fighter, this was probably the most impressive demo of the day.

Glory and I are both fans of radio chatter, so when the narrator described a mock fire mission at show center for the pilot to demonstrate his gun run, we were pretty intrigued (even if I can only make out every third word or so).

And these are just a handful of the 150 or so pictures Glory snapped of this amazing and intimidating machine.

While he was waiting to return to the hot pad, the A-10 pilot played a little rock-paper-scissors with kids in the crowd.

But as good as Glory's camera is, I got my favourite pic of the day with the one on my phone:

And the airshow was still not over!

Riled Blue Yonder - YEG Airshow 2021 - Pt. 1

 I don't know how I stumbled across it, but in late July I discovered that somehow, impossibly, there would be a local airshow this year. I confirmed with Glory (still in Churchill) that she wanted to go to one, and she declared her willingness authoritatively.

And so, on her first Saturday back in the province, we drove out to the tiny Villeneuve airport west of Edmonton - along with 25,000 other event-starved attendees.

It was a zoo. They had anticipated perhaps 16,000 people based on ticket sales, but with the second day of the show threatened by rain, there were a ton of last-minute purchases and walk-ups. It's not a concert where you can run out of seats, and there was plenty of room, but the crowds meant an excruciating 90 min crawl to the parking lot, then another hour in line waiting to have out tickets scanned and enter the airfield. 

By the time we got our chairs placed, we had just enough time to go line up at a food truck for lunch, and were there when the opening ceremonies commenced.

Watching an American C-130 Hercules deliver the British Army's Red Devils parachute demonstration team to they could unfurl the flags of Canada, the U.S. and a 5000 sq. ft. Union Jack while the crowds sang the appropriate anthems was a real treat, and not significantly diminished by waiting in line for Bacon Bomb sandwiches at the Smokehouse BBQ truck.

Glory had brought along her SLR and managed to get some great shots throughout the day.

Alberta pilot Kyle Fowler then did a demo with his Burt Rutan-designed plane, the Long EZ, which he built himself from a kit. With its delta wing, forward canards and pusher props, it is a very-elegant looking aircraft.

The Long EZ is not really an aerobatic plane, but Fowler really really put it through its paces, returning for another neat stunt later in the show.

As cool as it was though, Glory and I were there primarily for the fast movers, and the first pair of jhets we saw really delivered the goods. Two EA-18G Growlers, electronic warfare Hornets from the U.S. Navy, did their rolls, loops, Cuban 8s and more with tremendous skill and precision, but nothing thrilled us more than the simple high-speed, low altitude overhead passes they did.

As they roared overhead, afterburners crackling as they quickly diminished in size and then broke formation, Glory lowered her camera and looked at me with the biggest grin I have seen on her in years. I laughed, and held up my arm so she could see all the hairs standing on end as well as the gooseflesh, before it receded.

At that point, the ticket prices (a very reasonable $25 which included parking), and miserable drive and that long wait to get in, all became more than worth it, for us at least. But there was still more show to come. 

Once More to the Edge: 3) Arts & Adventures

There is very little to keep us coming back to Churchill, and yet we do. 

This was the fourth visit for Audrey and I, and I am confident we will go back again. But why?

Part of it is that we have family up there who also happen to be great, great people. I know another part of it is bringing someone new to experience Churchill, like Fenya's boyfriend Bobby. 

The biggest reason though might be that visiting Churchill feels a little less like a vacation and just a bit more akin to an adventure.

It is a remote northern town of less than 700 souls, inaccessible by roads - you can arrive by plane, train or (theoretically) boat. Despite its diminutive size, Churchill can often be spied on world maps (including the CIA World Map). Perhaps this is due to its deepwater port, or perhaps just because it is an area of the map that looks better with a name in it. Either way, it is the very edge of our nation and a surprisingly accessible bit of peri-frontier.

The town began to pivot to eco-tourism years ago, and not a moment too soon, since OmniTRAX closed the port in 2016. People come here during the summer to see belugas and all manner of birds including arctic terns and bald eagles. 

But obviously the big draw is the polar bears.

(For better bear pictures please check out my 2013 post!)

It is important to note though, that these massive ursines are not there for the tourists, they are there for themselves, impatiently waiting for sea ice to form on Hudson's Bay so they can get back to the ice floes and start eating seals. They endure increasingly hot and increasingly lengthy summers in a state of waking hibernation, and will occasionally shamble into the town looking for food.

Such incursions are not regular or everyday occurrences to be sure, but the possibility of an apex predator wandering down the street at any given moment is everpresent. We were in Churchill for five days, and on two of those days we could hear the honking of truck horns and the telltale sounds of cracker shells and shotgun blasts as conservation officers dissuaded ursus maritimus from venturing further into the town. 

Two nights ago, Fenya messaged us to say that she had spied a bear from the living room window of the house we had stayed in while visiting her a week prior.

The juxtaposition of shopping for t-shirts or using a debit card to buy pizza to eat on the train in a place where humans are not the top of the food chain in Churchill is absolutely mind-boggling to me.

In light of this, the other factors fade in comparison, even the weather. Our boat trip to Prince of Wales Fort was cancelled due to 70 km\h winds gusting to 90, so we went out into this 7 degree Celsius maelstrom ("feels like 2 degrees") to see it for ourselves. And watching the waves batter the beach or the rocks at Cape Merry was impressive, and maybe even intimidating, but we never stopped looking for bears.

Someday I would love to go work a summer and bear season in Churchill, but in my heart of hearts I know it would be irresponsible for me to live there. I lack the surety and the self-reliance of most Churchillians, and I am confident my lack of focus would result in my daydreaming on my way to work and ending up as an entree for Canada's largest carnivore.

But the people who live in Churchill are not just surviving there, but thriving. They organized an online variety show to help people deal with COVID isolation, and we watched in order to hear Fenya sing, but stayed to watch people share themselves in the most earnest manner imaginable.

And a massive art project -SeaWalls Churchill - launched just before the rail line was washed out in 2017 has transformed many of the bleak walls around Churchill into bold statements about both ecology and northern isolation. Like all large-scale art installations, they diminish when photographed, but remain a brilliant testimony to the uniqueness of this place.

There is a documentary about the SeaWalls Churchill project you can watch courtesy of the CBC - I haven't checked it out yet, but the trailer certainly looks compelling.

Could you perhaps replicate the experience by installing a number of cages within an art gallery containing bears, wolves and wolverines and then equipping them with random time-release locks? Possibly, but even if you could, it would feel too contrived to be a true adventure and not just a stunt.

Every year the winters get shorter and the bear counts are beginning to drop. Who knows how much longer Churchill will remain the "Polar Bear Capital of the World"? When anyone asks me about Churchill, I encourage them to visit there if it is at all possible, and the sooner the better. Everyone we have brought up there would like to return, if possible.

In my heart, I know we will be back. I hope it is before too long, and I hope we bring more new people to experience this amazing place where convenience and adventure jostle for priority.

Once More to the Edge: 2) The Tundra

In Churchill, "the tundra" can mean a lot of different things.

It might refer to the dominant biome in this region, north of the boreal forests and where there are few, if any, trees. In Russia they call it taiga, or land of little sticks. The resemblance here to the landscape of the northern USSR is the primary reason there was a strong military presence here in the 1950s - a chance to test equipment and train personnel in conditions similar to the home of a likely adversary.

The tundra might refer to the the barren areas east of Churchill, close to Hudson's Bay, home of Wapusk National Park and the Churchill Wildlife Management Area. These are parts best viewed from a Tundra Buggy, which Bobby, Audrey and my cousin Parker and I did on Wednesday. We had originally intended to move the trip to a warmer day, but I am glad they advised us not to.

Our driver, Jim, was the same fellow who took us out in 2016. His knowledge of flora and fauna are extraordinary, and he is also a raft guide working out of Jasper for part of the year.

Over the six hours we were on the buggy, we saw three bald eagles, five caribou including two young, and best of all, three polar bears. Sadly, I neglected to bring a camera with a decent zoom lens but luckily I did have the presence of mind to bring binoculars, which afforded us some intimate views of amazing wildlife.

Jim is not just knowledgeable but also funny, and a great storyteller, but his true gift is a brilliant wilderness guide's balance between showmanship and conservatorship. Everyone comes on these tours wanting to see a polar bear, even in the summer, but not all bears want to be seen.

His approach is cautious and circumspect because as much as his current passengers want to get as close as possible, future groups (and the bear!) will approach his discretion as he parks nearby with the engine running until the immense ursine relaxes. Having ascertained that this is his "little sweetheart" and not the skittish bear that is not used to the buggies, he shuts things down and serves up the packed lunch. We enjoy sandwiches and garlicky hummus while watching a healthy female polar bear nap on the tundra perhaps 40 yards away.

This is an amazing experience that not enough people avail themselves of.

Going to The Tundra can also refer to the Tundra Inn pub and restaurant, which we dropped into last night after supper. They are still getting up to speed having just reopened with a new cook but the staff are friendly and attentive.

Once More to the Edge: 1) Flin Flon

It is a long ways from Edmonton to Flin Flon but it turns out the northern Manitoba town was the midway of an even more immense journey.

We are making another pilgrimage to Churchill, our first without the girls as they are already working up there. Fenya's boyfriend Bobby is joining us, and has never been to this part of the country before.

Driving up Hansen Lake Road we saw the intimidating residue of quite a few wildfires, and long stretches of dense boreal forest. 

We passed a bald eagle and raven sharing a meal of roadkill (maybe a wolverine, based on colouring), and flocks of namesake birds at Pelican Narrows.

All in all, it took about 11 hours of driving to arrive at Flin Flon, but we spotted the immense smelter chimney (251 m, the second highest in Canada until the Inco Superstack in Sudbury is demolished) from perhaps 20 miles out.

With a little time left before bedding down, we took Bobby to see the statue of the town's eponymous character, Josiah Flintabbety Flonatin. I'd forgotten that his look was designed by American cartoonist Al Capp (L'il Abner).

While there, we took notice of a display featuring a large traditional-style canoe, and discovered that an intrepid band of Flin Flonners took this simple vessel from Rocky Mountain House all the way to the Montreal Expo on the year of my birth.

There were ten of them, their names embossed on a metal plaque, who paddled their way across much of this immense nation from May 24 to September 4, 1967. And all to help a young nation observe its very first centennial.

Imagining ten men and all their gear in such a modest craft for such a period of time without the benefit of modern communications was intimidating and inspiring in equal measure.

It also made today's 11 hour drive in air-conditioned comfort seem like much less of an achievement, even though we did cover a province-and-a-half.

(Apologies for the quality of the photos, it was getting late!)

Dog Days of Summer School

It is hard to believe, but Canéla has been a part of our household for half a year now. I would have to say that adaptation to the new paradigm has gone pretty well on both sides of the equation. Little Miss is becoming a bit more secure, we all have a better idea of what to expect from each other in various situations, and I am rousting myself from my office chair to walk her around the neighbourhood each day at lunch.

There are still issues to be sorted through, ranging from the idiosyncratic (her tendency to distribute kibble from her dish to other areas of the house for no apparent reason) to the annoying (how happy she is to dig up certain areas of the lawn, particularly the recently re-seeded bits). Most concerning though is Canéla's behaviour towards other dogs and some people when on the leash.

When we are at the dog park and she is free to roam and engage with other animals and their owners at will, she is remarkably discreet and well-behaved. But if I am walking her on the leash and she sees another animal, she loses her mind. Pulling at the leash, barking madly, occasionally turning and snarling at the leash - she sounds positively unhinged. You would never believe this is the same girl who plays gently with our 2-year-old grandson Robin. 

But the entire time she is barking and lunging, her tail is wagging. because she is just frustrated that she can't go over and say "hi".

With her antics reaching the point where Audrey could no longer walk the dog on a leash due to elbow issues, we started looking for help, and ended up enrolling in weekly classes ("Waggology 101") through Naturally Fluent Animal Training.

Our instructor, Nina, practices a style of force-free animal training that uses a clicker and rewards to shape behaviour; no choke chains or any other type of negative reinforcement. I won't lie, it took quite a bit of getting used to. 

The bigger problem was that Canéla's excitement at seeing other dogs in the class meant we spent fully half our time redirecting her or distracting her. Classes were meant to be short, but handouts outlining exercises to be practised and behaviours to be learned in between the weekly in-person sessions. 

But the pace and our frustration made it difficult for all of us, and going to class was on its way to becoming a chore. Thankfully, Nina pulled us aside fairly early on and explained that Canéla was actually doing pretty well, considering she was essentially a reactive dog.

A dog described as reactive is typically understood to be unpredictable, insecure and potentially dangerous, but in the case of our adopted Mexican terrier, it was more positive. Nina explained that instead of seeing other dogs as a threat and wanting to fight, she just wanted to meet and potentially play with them all. 

Nina provided us with some additional information and exercises for reactive dogs, and told us to replace "fear" in the text with "excitement" (and in one notable scenario, to replace the word "snake" with "yummiest cupcake" to describe why Canéla was behaving the way she was. 

Ignoring the more advanced behaviour shaping and targeting goals in favour of counter-conditioning her to choose better behaviour on the leash made all the difference in finishing the course. There is still a long ways to go, but I am confident that we now have the tools to get there.

Better still, at her "graduation" class this Friday past, Canéla managed to accomplish all of the tasks set up for her on a sort of spy-themed obstacle course, which delighted me no end. Tasks included settling on an elevated doggy cot, sitting, staying, going through a short tunnel, and slaloming a series of obstacles. 

Most impressive though (even more impressive than allowing herself to be called away from a caged hot dog), was coming when called from another room when she was with Nina, who Canéla knows has better treats than we do!

It may not look like much, but considering she is a canine teenager who will sometimes pretend she doesn't even know her own name, we were thrilled. 

Canéla even managed to sit still long enough for a picture or two to be taken in front of her certificate, whereas she normally feels compelled to come investigate the camera.

So in the end, Waggology 101 turned out to be not at all what we expected, but a great deal of what all three of us needed, and we are grateful for the experience.