Blow The Man Down

Chorus:
Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down
Way hey blow the man down
Oh, blow the man down, bullies, blow him away
Give me some time to blow the man down!

This chorus to the old sea shanty goes back to the 1800s when sailors would sing it as they raised sails on their ships.   Here in British Columbia in the year 2012, Blow The Man Down took on a whole new meaning.

Downed tree rests on shed roof

Early Monday morning hurricane force winds hit B.C. Here, on Vancouver Island alone, the massive storm left over 100 000 people without power for a number of hours.  In Courtenay, at one point, there wasn’t a single electrical service operational.  As I write this to you at 03.00 on Wednesday morning, our street and a neighbouring crescent are without power.  Many other outlying communities and communities on smaller islands are also without power.

Weather forecasters had been saying they predicted strong winds would come, but what actually arrived was way more than any of us expected.  Indeed, though we have lived in the valley for 44 years, we have never experienced winds of such intensity.  At 04.30 I woke to the sounds of our plastic re-cycling bins being blown around on the rear deck of the house.  I got up to set them straight and weight them down.  The sound of the wind blowing through the fir trees surrounding us sounded like a train going through.  It gave me some idea of what the people of the American mid-west experienced a few weeks ago as tornados went through that region.

I couldn’t go back to sleep.  I was very much awake and fully alert.  I had powerful thoughts in my mind.  What if some poor souls are at sea in Georgia Strait or off the Pacific coast of the island? What if someone had been unable to find a good, sheltered harbour in which to ride out the storm?  I decided to hit the living room and pray for the Lord to protect those at sea, and the rest of us landlubbers from the effects of this monster.  As I sat in the living room I heard quite a loud kerthump, and supposed a large branch of a tree might have come down nearby.  When daylight came, and I was able to venture outside, I saw that a large tree, about sixteen inches diameter at the base and about 60 feet tall had come to rest across the roof of our garden shed.  The wind was still roaring and heavy rain was being driven horizontally by the gale.  The tree had come to rest on the shed, but had missed our own house and the new house being built next door.  I thanked the Lord for answered prayer.  About 09.00 we heard a massive bang and our power went off.  A tree had fallen on an electrical transformer located on the neighbouring crescent, and power to our two streets disappeared.

Later that day, when the wind had died, and the rain stopped, two angels came to visit us.  Our neighbours Pat and Yvan came to see if we were doing well as they’d seen the tree across the shed.  Thirty minutes later Yvan re-appeared with his chain-saw and other tools in his wheelbarrow, and we set about removing the tree.

As the day wore on, reports began filtering through to us about extensive damage to property around the valley.  Large sail and power boats had been torn from moorages and ended up on the shore.  Power lines were down all over the valley and on neighbouring islands.  B.C. Hydro crews were struggling to restore power first to the hospital, fire departments and police station, though their generators were providing emergency power.  Gradually, these amazing crews got power back on in the major centres of the valley.

We heard that down island, the road over the high ground of the Malahat region had been in a white-out situation, with heavy snow blocking the road.  Crews eventually got traffic moving again fairly quickly.  I was told that our ski resort, Mt. Washington, had received over two feet of fresh snow in an overnight time-span. It was reported that winds had crested to over 130 K.p.h. at the local airport.  On the Beaufort Scale hurricane force winds are rated at 118 K.p.h. I believe, but as the wind in this storm wasn’t continuous, but gusting, I believe it was rated as a tropical storm.

Monday evening, Pat and Yvan insisted we come to them for a meal.  We accepted gratefully and she fed us so well.  We were with them until almost 23.00 and went home equipped with a power pack from Yvan, which enabled us to power two lights, so we could read.  I got the wood stove going and soon we were quite comfortable.  Unlike the victims of the Japanese tsunami, we still had a house to shelter us!  All problems are relative!

Tuesday evening, our youngest son Tim cooked us meal and then we distributed the contents of our chest freezer to friends and family around the valley who had power and freezer space. We had then been told power would be restored probably on Wednesday around 16.00

As of now, Wednesday at 18.06 we have not heard of a single death due to the storm and life is slowly returning to normal.  And oh, by the way, our own power was restored three hours ago!

Goodbye for now and God bless.

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• Wind warning ends after trees toppled, ferries cancelled (vancouversun.com)

Back Home In Comox

Hello everyone…We returned from our trip on Wednesday after a 10 hour flight on Tuesday.  We arrived in Vancouver too late to make it back to Comox so had booked an overnight stay there.  Much as we enjoyed the trip, it’s great to be back!

If you wish, you can view all our pics from the trip by clicking here.  The pictures open up in our Google Web Albums. You can either view the pics as a slideshow or click through them at your own speed. by using the arrows on either side of the pictures.  The slideshow will take you 11 minutes to view at it’s current setting of slides every three seconds.  You can slow that if you wish by moving your mouse cursor to the bottom of the page and changing the number of seconds.  Either way, click on the first slide to start, then either choose slideshow, or click the picture again and use the side arrows.  Good viewing and cheers from Cynthia and me.

“He’s Pink…Like A New Born”

Tim recovering in intensive care.

For me and I’m sure for Cynthia, last night, and this morning were filled with memories of different feelings.  Some of them were feelings of anxiety, fear and dread.  Some of them of exhilaration, sadness and joy.  Twelve years ago last night and over into August first, our youngest son Tim received a new heart.

Surgery began at 19.30 on July 31 and ended approximately o3.30 on Aug. o1.  At that point, Cynthia, Ben and I were allowed into the intensive care unit of St. Paul’s hospital, Vancouver to see Tim.  Cynthia’s first remarks were something like, “Oh my gosh!  He’s pink…like a new-born”  We had grown so used to Tim’s pallid colouring, it was a real shock and a joy to see his rosy complexion…like a new-born.

Today, twelve years later. Tim, his wonderful wife Andi and their two smashing kids Charlotte and Oliver were down town in Comox, cheering on the Nautical Days paraders.  On behalf of our family I would like to thank Dr. Andy Ignaszewski (Then head of department B.C. Transplant Society), Dr. Sam Lichtenstein (Tim’s surgeon)and all the medical team involved with Tim’s surgery.  Of course, our undying gratitude goes to the anonymous donor family who gave Tim life through their unselfish act.  Thanks to the Transplant Clinic staff who still care for Tim, twelve years on, and to Drs. Alan, Margaret and Mike who have cared for Tim along the way.  Thanks to all you, family and friends who have kept us going over the years with your love, prayers and support. Lastly, and most importantly, our love goes to our heavenly Father, through whom all things are possible.  He sustained Cynthia and myself, when Tim’s heart problems began at birth, He helped Ben, Cynthia, Tim and myself through those dark hours in St. Paul’s.  To Him be the glory, now and forever.

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The Epic Ride.

The Magnificent Seven:L-R:Josée, Jan, Fiona, Lindsay, Ben, Martin, Rob

Well folks, our little team of seven actual riders made it to the finish line in the epic Ride To Conquer Cancer which took place on Saturday and Sunday of the past weekend.  Two of our original team of nine were unable to ride.  However, they were with us in spirit as we made the trek.

We overnighted in Vancouver on Friday and joined about 2800+ others at the starting point in Surrey, a suburb of Vancouver.  Breakfast, in the form of a scrambled egg wrap (ugh!) was provided, opening ceremonies were completed  and the first riders left on time  at 07.00 in a steady downpour of rain.  We were soaked before we started!  By 08.00 we were all on the road, headed for the Peace Arch and the American border.  The border crossing took 45-60 minutes and we were well on our way into the home of the brave and the land of the free.

About 113Km ahead, we rode into Mt. Vernon, our overnight stop.  We stored our bikes, collected our bags from the trucks and found our tents.  Then, with dry clothes in hand, we hit the hot showers.  These were amazing, built into trailers which could be towed from place to place and re-established in new locations.  Dinner came next.  This was one of the down-sides of the trip. After the 117 Km ride, we waited, standing in line for about 90 minutes, to get our meal, which was not too great when it came. (However, the positives on this trip greatly outweighed the negatives.)  We hit the tents early, for we were very tired and also knew another early morning awaited us.  I slept not a wink.

Sunday morning was a repeat of the previous one.  It always amazes me that some early risers seem to forget that others might not want to be up before the birds.  You know, you’ve heard them in hotels, speaking at the tops of their voices as they leave their rooms, crashing their doors behind them.  Those same people were there at our camp-site, informing all of their intentions to visit the can or brush their teeth.  Who cares?

Once again, it rained quite steadily as we left camp.  Once again we were soaked within minutes.  The ride progressed along fairly level terrain, beautiful farmland, and very picturesque communities.  However, about 20Km from the end, we had to climb some quite severe hills.  Ben, God bless him, who had cycled behind me the whole of the trip, quietly encouraged me to keep going, as legs burned and lungs sucked air.  We made it through the ranges in good shape and feeling surprisingly good.  By this time, the other riders on our team had left Ben and me far behind, ( as we had agreed  before we left Comox) which made me appreciate my son’s encouragement all the more.

Finally, like Moses, we came down from the mountain to a lovely cycle path along  the Sammamish river bank.  For about 12Km we followed this gently winding, gorgeous route, sharing the trail with Sunday morning walkers and bikers going in the other direction.  They must have wondered what they were seeing as we all swept past them.  Finally, we crossed a narrow footpath over the river and went into the finishing area at  Marymoor Park in Redmond, just north of Seattle.  Crowds were cheering us on, pom-poms were waved and cow bells rung. I was determined that I would not cross the line before Ben , so I slowed briefly to allow him to come alongside and we crossed together.  There was no time to celebrate in any way, as we were grabbed and directed to take our bikes to the trucks so they could be loaded on and prepared for the trip home.  However, our faster riding team-mates were there to greet us with a cold beer, which barely touched the sides of my throat.  Within an hour, we had located our bags, showered (again in those wonderful movable showers), grabbed a bite to eat, and were loaded on our homeward bound bus.

As we arrived at the border crossing and Canada customs a farcical event occurred.  Our driver collected all our passports with our customs declarations inside each one. ( I got really uneasy at this, for I do not like giving up my passport to anyone other than a customs officer)  The documents were processed inside the office and our bus took off.  As we hummed along towards Vancouver, it soon became apparent that not everyone had received their passport from the pile, and that our driver had left before the customs officers had time to return all the passports to us.  The driver would not turn back.  He was not going to change his schedule.  The temperature rose in the bus, especially as we learned some people were flying to interior towns of the province out of Vancouver the next day.  Fortunately (for the driver), a customs vehicle overtook us and stopped us.  The officer delivered the remainder of the passports, a huge cheer went up, and we were on our way.

A ferry trip and a drive home followed our arrival back into Vancouver.  We got into Comox around 00.30 on Monday morning and I was in bed about 01.30 after a cup of tea  and a brief run down on the trip with Cynthia.  I slept ’til 11.45 this morning.

The overall experience had been a good one.  We met lots of very fine people.  One in particular stays in my mind.  He was a handicapped man who made the trip riding his specially equipped tri-cycle.  Some of the riders were cancer survivors, their bright yellow flags fluttering from their bikes as they rode the route with us.  We needed no further inspiration after seeing them.  Yes, there were some glitches in the organization, but when one thinks of the thousands of volunteers, police, cooks, etc. involved in making this event happen, the glitches pale by comparison.

The net result is that 2800+ riders participated and over $11 million was raised for cancer research.  This would not have been possible without all of you out there who supported our team, me, and others like us in this venture. Heartfelt thanks to all of you.

Goodbye and God bless, but check below too for pics and video.

To view a CTV video report of the ride click below.

CTV British Columbia – Maria Weisgarber on the Ride to Conquer Cancer – CTV News.

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