Burnt Weenie Sandwich

Good news and bad news in the last couple of days.

The good:

The gastronomic gods have smiled oh so briefly upon me and the community today. I think I may have figured out how to shop for groceries in this town. The beauty of my proximity to the airport is being able to hear just about everything that comes and goes. All of the food is delivered by Buffalo Airways and I am not so sure that it is on a regularly scheduled basis. But I do know that all of the aircraft are of the WWII vintage; my favorite is the C-46. The only reason that this is significant is that they are noisy I mean loud… The only way you would miss their arrival or departure would be if your head was buried in a turbine engine. It’s a reassuring sound because it is the sound of hope. That something interesting may arrive at Mary’s because the Northern is pretty much a lost cause.

Timing is critical as well. It must be adequate enough to allow for the shelves to be stocked, but not to allow too much of an opportunity for the rest of the inhabitants to scoop up the good stuff before I get the chance. The balance I believe is about 14-16 hours give or take. Everything buttons up tight by 8:00pm and doesn’t open until 10 the next morning. It is the next morning that is key, sure I am going to miss out on the absolute freshest veggies for the next 4-5 days but most of the good stuff will be there on the shelves. This morning my spirits lifted considerably when I spied the tastiest ground pork products I am aware of.

Behold!

I wonder If they will ever get the Chicken Sundried Tomato & Basil…

Mmmm…

Things are looking up in the Wells!

The bad:

Critters.

Big’ens.

White and furry.

Many sightings.

Sedna Camp.

What a pisser!! All of the cool stuff happens when I leave. It’s like this everywhere. Freeing the kamatuk from its icy grip in front of generator… No! the glory goes to the new guy.

Bastard!!

15 years ago I was in Costa Rica and there was an earthquake felt in Vancouver. Two weeks after I return to Vancouver a monster rocks Costa Rica. I suppose being charged by a Musk Ox was a little on the thrilling side but two seasons 18 miles from Hudson’s Bay and I don’t get the chance to see a single polar yogi that wasn’t already dead and either having it’s face ripped off or “drying” in some back-yard in Rankin Inlet.

So far no campers devoured

A boy can dream though… You’ll get yours. I here that Troubles coming. It might already be there by now.