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カテゴリ:6.Northern BC( 5 )
Meeting nicest people in BC with GREYHOUND (16)
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[PR]
by tetsu95jp | 2007-11-27 06:32 | 6.Northern BC
Meeting nicest people in BC with GREYHOUND (15)
The bus started in the morning took rest breaks several times. As I was smoking at an ashtray outside, an old woman who was also smoking accosted me. "I'm from Nova Scotia and on the way home now. I visited my son who established and run the news paper of Prince Rupert." All of her children, she said, became independent already moving about all over Canada and such stories are pretty common among Canadians. Among of all things, according to her, the popular way to move to West like BC was to start ranches.
When I put off my tobacco into the ashtray to get back on the bus, the woman followed but threw it away. I didn't think a great mother would do such things. Later, as she knew I was taking pictures, whenever she found the remaining snow she pointed at it in front of my seat. All of them were not worth pictures, though.
Barns Lake was already in the evening when the bus arrived. Asked how to get to the Takysie Lake at the small bus-depo, he said it would take over an hour taxi ride. Over an hour from Yellowhead Highway? They say "Just Off Yellowhead Highway" on the ad, he confirmed if the motel could come receive me on phone but not. Then he also called a taxi company to ask the fee to Takysie Lake and it appeared well over double the accommodation rate. Finally, I asked to him whether there are any cheap motels near there. After telling me a few places, he casted the Greyhound slogan, "Take it easy," on my shoulder.
What a hell, I remembered a cold look at casted by the old lady when I got off the bus alone. Explained that how I came to the motel and that wanted a cheapest room to the motel lady, she really sympathised me. However, when it came to the rate she costed me a bit higher price than shown in a brochure, even though no other guests were there for the off-season.
I asked for fishing information because around Barns Lake has a lot of lakes. She called to another person, though it was too early to fish with thin ice on the surface of every lake. Then, I asked if I can take pictures of working people there. Some logger might be, she said, but eventually appeared no one was working that time!
"Okay", she said and her English was very clear to understand -she and her husband came from Germany-, "if you want to capture Barns Lake, you can observe two Indian bands. One is upwards and affluent with a lot of woods to log; the other is downwards by the lake and very poor without good rights. You can see the contrast between them." "But," I said, "it's maybe difficult to take pictures."
First, I called the hillside to hilltop band. On the way, asking my way to a grandma with kids I also saw middle to old aged men slowly stepped forward and rested sitting on a public building gazing at air without doing anything. Passed by an elementary school, I found a neatly lined houses along the road, some of whose widow showed the Maple Leaf flag of Canada. Other than a few kids running out and in a house like the Queen Charlotte kids, no one appeared. The neat houses, however, displayed messy around them scattered tools or what not unlike White people's houses'.
And then, next, I went to the poor band, where stood shark-like houses bit by bit in a wild. However, young guys out of them passed with me each other greeted smile greetings. Some guys were flocking together to cut timber just playing with each other. I was told that this district was poor, though it looked happier than the band on the hill. Passing over the poor band to a small park on the bank, a White girl amused herself on a swing. I accosted her but she never replied. The lake was surely still frozen and it was too early to fish, which only me might have not known.

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Prince George seemed not interesting without its feature, so I decided to stay only over night for next Greyhound. Calling to an appropriate B&B and asked the rate, he offered fairly high price at first but somewhat suddenly changed to $50 including tax.
In the evening of 24th March, 2004, I got on a cart of the SKEENA train from Barns Lake, which was late for over an hour. The station was nothing but a rail side only with a small sign of Barns Lake. To climb onboard, I used a stairs I remember. The price was far more expensive than Greyhound, so I expected a gorgeous travel with gorgeous dinner.
The diesel train was historically old and the conductor with mustache also looked appeared from old Britain. As a matter of fact, his English sounded so different from ordinary Canadians that I could hardly understand what he was saying. Just over my seat, a group of Caucasian were getting wild, who were the only conspicuous passengers; in other words, there were few passengers on board. I tried to order dinner and found there were no chefs, instead the conductor eating himself's gave me a cook of a kind for an instant dish. Oh, this is the SKEENA; this is the Canada.
Since the restaurant compartment felt like occupied by the conductor and another White female passenger, I got back to my seat. Then I found my seat was taken by one of the Caucasian group chatted loudly. "Excuse me," said me, she moved to another place without apologises. The train went like a tortoise and stopped frequently; as for the landscape, except sometimes white breathes of horses outside stables amused me, only a little difference from the Yellowhead Highway was seen. After night has fallen, I was rather worried if the B&B person would wait for me to pick up at because I had no means to tell him this significant delay.
The train was supposed to arrive at Prince George at 8:10 pm. But actually it went over 10:00 pm. Surprisingly, however, Bernie, the B&B man was still there! Mentioned my concern thanking him, he said such a thing was common in SKEENA and speaking with other people who were also waiting the train had him never bored! I simply couldn't his tolerance.
My room was really gorgeous; it was like the civilised world has suddenly come. The B&B was named "Gallery House B&B," since his profession was to frame pictures with a workshop. He served me a very good breakfast, when I asked what brought him there. He replied that just for jobs as well as many other people did, and that settling here he became fond of it. In his car to the Greyhound station with bad visibility for the thick fog, he explained the fog is common in changing seasons at Prince George because two rivers meet and pour into the Fraser River, which starts here a long long way until Vancouver.
[PR]
by tetsu95jp | 2007-11-26 08:34 | 6.Northern BC
Meeting nicest people in BC with GREYHOUND (14)
I expected there should be a taxi stand so walked forward to another building pulling my heavy luggage. However, it was a government office with no pay-phones and somewhat closed. Other than a few people carrying stuff on a pier ignoring me, no one was to be seen around there. I had no choice except returning to the ferry office. And then, the office person called me a cab.
A huge old American sedan came to me. The not sophisticated ride with smell and vibration of the vintage class made me feel like in old America. The driver's English was not so great and he didn't know cheap accommodations in town, though anyway he brought me to the hotel district of the central block. I wanted a cheapest hotel but it costed over $70 including taxes.
In that hotel, once again those Indian kids with some parents met me. With their room-doors opened, their energy with loud voices seemed never to go down. Bullshit, give me a break, I won't sleep again?
Smoking outside, one of the parents finally spoke to me, "Where are you from? You were taking pictures on board, weren't you?" And then he said, "We have a problem with our ferry to Queen Charlotte, so until departure we have to stay here."
"Wait a moment," he said, "I know Japanese people eat just the same thing as ours." What he brought from his room to outside was the Japanese saying "Shishamo" but smoked. The small and thin fish is very popular, especially the ones with eggs, among Japanese to eat with rice baking. Getting a bite of it tasted the same taste of sweet and bitter that I used to eat in Japan.
This experience alleviated my prejudice to them and I began to feel their basis might be the same as mine. Asking the hotel lady for which part of the island they came from, she said they from the northern most part, Massert. Confirming it on a map, across a sea was Alaska.
The town of Prince Rupert was like Wild West but concreted; everything looked like primitive with a lot of aboriginal people. On the other had, however, I could purchase foods and what not in new shopping malls with chain stores which are the same as Richmond's. When I rested sitting on an edge stone of pedestrian, some boys approached and asked for money for them to buy something. I replied, "I'm not enough rich to give you." They seemed to look for another person, though I dropped by a liqueur shop near there by the hotel. The Indian girls of the shop scared looking at them out of the windows and called the police. Such a group of bad boys might have been in the old days' Japan.
Somehow I wanted to reach Yukon territory over BC border, so I attempted to rent a car at Prince Rupert but not only they declined me to leave it at different town but there were no cars available actually. Luckily the hotel was by Greyhound station. I planned to use Greyhound until Burns Lake and then the Skeena (VIA Rail Canada) to Prince Geroge, since I found a Takysie Lake motel's ad for fishing in a thick travel guide of Northern British Columbia. It says "Just Off Yellowhead Highway" on which Greyhound goes and the address was Barns Lake. I took reservations on phone.

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[PR]
by tetsu95jp | 2007-11-25 07:21 | 6.Northern BC
Meeting nicest people in BC with GREYHOUND (13)
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[PR]
by tetsu95jp | 2007-11-24 09:10 | 6.Northern BC
Meeting nicest people in BC with GREYHOUND (12)
I can work it out, thinking so I went out to the deck, when a White guy accosted me. He was on the way home in Prince Rupert, the destination of the ferry. He said he moved to Prince Rupert when child and then engaged in wiring work speaking to me of his awful work experience in snowing mountains; nevertheless, he loved his home because Prince Rupert has great mountains for skiing that he loves. Aware for us of being the same generation talking about our favourite classic pop groups, he picked a CD out of his portable player and gave to me. That was a Rolling Stones' one which I had never listened to. "Never mind, I can copy it whenever renting from a shop," he said. Well, Prince Rupert seemed more civilised than I expected.
He was very talkative. This ferry was imported from Baltic Sea, he said. As departed from Port Hardy one hour later or so than the expected time, many people got out on the deck and saw a long distance mountain coast which were pink-coloured reflecting the sunset on the Pacific side. "We are so lucky being able to such a sunset," talked with Mic (I called the Prince Rupert guy so because he was like Mic Jaguar), "since until now it has been cloudy." Indeed, it might be once a life time scene.
He said there held an event of basketball games for school children on Vancouver Island and a lot of boys and girls along with some parents on board were on the way home. That quite made a sense why this ferry was so crowded. But I couldn't help hate the Indian children behaving arrogantly since I first met at the waiting room, and seeing their rudeness without courtesy made me about to lose my interest towards Indians. In fact, they were rather like animals.
I picked out a small plastic bottle of whisky which tasted however awful. Then, Mic agreed with my opinion pointing out the plastic and recommended me an Albert Rye Whisky he had. I see, there are bad Canadians and good ones, I recognised. Getting colder outside with darkness, we returned into the cabin where we had to seek for our seats to sleep.

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It was about dinner time, and the restaurant was in confusion with a lot of people. In a line to receive dishes, there was an Indian woman seemingly similar age of mine. I remembered I saw her on the deck. For there were no knockouts on board, she somewhat attracts me at first. She wore a colourful dress, however, approaching her I found she wasn't beautiful. However, she sat my table without hesitation with a can beer on tray as me.
She didn't speak out so much, but she said she was from Queen Charlotte Islands after traveling several inland places including Edmonton on the way home; so, she was alone without company apart from a number of kids, "I am bored with my life, I want to reside in urban area." When appeared that I was interested in Halibut fishing, she said that she used to be a fisher-woman catching a lot of Halibut, and that since the season got in she could guide me on boat from Queen Charlotte Islands. Hum, as if her man-like body told her previous profession.
The price she mentioned for arranging a Halibut fishing sounded pretty expensive, but rather the low-level attitudes and behaviours the kids showed deprived me of eagerness to cross over to Queen Charlotte Islands from Prince Rupert. Showing an Indian fishing book with a lot of illustrations I bought at Quadra Island, she said that this used to be the way they fish but not now, and that written by a White might make some differences in perception.
There were already people spreading out their rugs between and around the seat-lines and trying to sleep. On the other hand, bad boys and girls were going to and coming from a game machine room chatting loudly. I managed to keep a seat at a very front of a cabin, and I, too, tried to sleep reclining the seat fully. Except that, I had nothing to do with the complete darkness outside. Even it was far apart from the engine, its vibration was far beyond my imagination. I further drank the whisky but never could sleep.
Opened my eyes, I realised my next seat was Mic and then the Indian woman closing eyes. I remember the ferry stopped once for a long time spotting a huge light towards a coast; there seemed fairly wild with nothing to be seen. Other than that, when occasionally saw outside the windows lots of tiny lights of fishermen boats passed in the narrow aisle of the sea. I guessed the Linda's husband might be on one of them.
I already decided to shoot the dawn of the sea way. But nothing was so much significant than continuing similarly looked mountains on both sides. When the ferry reached Prince Rupert around noon, what I only want to do was to take a rest on a bed.

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[PR]
by tetsu95jp | 2007-11-23 09:52 | 6.Northern BC
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