Every summer, Homo sapiens touristicus beringiae, also known as "the Alaskan and Yukon tourist", migrate from around the world to congregate along Alaskan and Yukon highways. The migration may take place only once in a touristicus beringiae's entire life, but it may also happen as often as every season.
Touristicus beringiae are frequently sighted in packs, but have been known to travel in small groups or even on their own. Of those that travel in packs, they are typically observed huddled together, around an alpha human known as the "tour guide".
A flock of Homo sapiens touristicus beringiae.
When a flock of touristicus beringiae observes native wildlife, they will huddle in a group and emit an excited "chatter" that is punctuated by sighs, squeals, and "oooh-ing".
This group of touristicus beringiae has stopped along their migration path to chatter over an Alces alces gigas.
During the animal observation ritual, touristicus beringiae will raise black or silver boxes to their eyes. While this ritual makes it difficult to see the object of their attention, biologists have discovered that helps with toursticus beringae's memory recall.
It is exceptionally rare to see touristicus beringiae more than 300 metres from their transportation device. They appear to enjoy the wilderness, but only from the apparent safety of an urban environment. For this reason, they will not stray off of the paved and gravel surfaces along the highway.
Huddled in a small group, emitting an excited chatter. Touristicus beringiae are seldom found further than a few hundred metres from their transportation device.
At night, this flock of touristicus beringiae will nest in the tiny rooms at the Beaver Creek Westmark before continuing with their northern migration.
From the moment Jade's seizures started, we've been wracking our brains trying to determine the cause, what triggers them, and how to make them stop. In the early days, Jade underwent a battery of tests, but the tests only ruled out other known causes. In the end, her seizures were deemed "idiopathic".
After months of anti-seizure medications that seemed to only make things worse, we put Jade on the ketogenic diet. Then, things got better - but not 100% better. In our (and the epileptologist's) ongoing quest for our daughter's complete seizure-freedom, we have continued to search for that perfect solution.
Along the way, many people have asked us if Jade has allergies and if allergies could be causing the seizures. We have read and have been told by the experts time and time again that allergies don't cause seizures. You hear me? Allergies don't cause seizures!
Regardless, along the way, I had developed a niggling feeling that the seizures might, somehow, be food or digestion related.
Fortunately, the experts have also told us that everyone has a seizure threshold and that certain things can put one over that threshold. Being overtired, sick, stressed, or having one's sleeping patterns disrupted can sometimes push people over their seizure threshold. That's why, even though it's not part of the normal epilepsy testing process, we independently pursued allergy testing for Jade. We figured, if she has food sensitivities, we might be able to eliminate the offending foods and keep her below the threshold.
We just got the test results back. Lo and behold, Jade is severely allergic to several of the basic foods in the ketogenic diet - with dairy and eggs ranking stratospherically up there on the list. There isn't a single meal on her keto-recipe list that doesn't contain either cream, butter, or eggs.
So, to remove the allergens, we now need to redo all of her meals and find palatable alternatives for Jade's new 4.75:1 fat-to-everything-else ratio. It's a lot of work but we (mostly Fawn, because she's the wizard with the ketocalculator who is adapting the recipes) can and will do it. We'll do it because, no matter how difficult it will be eliminate the allergens and administer the diet, somewhere, deep inside, we know this is going to work. We might even achieve seizure-freedom.
In hindsight, many of the symptoms that Jade has exhibited (and still shows, on occasion) when her seizures incease are symptoms that you would associate with allergies (ie. contact dermatitis, unexplained rashes, and a perpetually runny nose). When her seizures first started, she was knocking back 4L jugs of milk in two days. Coincidence? If you listen to the experts, absolutely. Allergies don't cause seizures. That's what the experts say, right?
Once upon a time, the experts believed that illnesses were caused by spirits inhabiting the body. By letting out a little blood, the spirit would have a way out of the sick person's body. If that didn't work, a little more blood was drained to let out more spirits. And so on and so on until the patient miraculously got better or died from blood loss. Not surprisingly, many patients died from blood loss. How much have things really changed?
Many of the gains that we've made with Jade's seizures, especially when things have been going in the wrong direction, have been made by hearing the doctors' recommendations (the conventional practice) for treatment, deciding it isn't the right course of action, and making the case for doing something different. Fortunately, Jade's doctors have trusted our judgement as informed parents, and have always gone along with our wishes even if it's not what makes sense to them. So far, we've always made the right call.
Right now, we're told that the experts can diagnose about 50% of epilepsy cases. That leaves a lot of other possible causes. Why can't allergies be one of them? Researchers have increasingly been finding links between autoimmune disorders and epilepsy. What more are allergies than an excessive autoimmune response? It would explain why Jade has often had elevated white blood cell counts when she's had blood work done ("She must be getting over some kind of virus," the experts have said). It would also explain why steroids are sometimes successfully used to treat epilepsy - steroids are also sometimes used to treat allergy sufferers. Perhaps the mechanism is the same?
This is the only thing, this whole time, that has made any sense to me about a potential cause for Jade's seizures, because there has to be a cause. Now, the signs are there and for the first time since this all started, I've got a feeling that we're finally going to get rid of Jade's seizures, once-and-for-all.
There are giant distractions called "roadside attractions" But the humblest I ever did see Were the four little people right there in the ditch On the Alcan in Beaver Creek
-Meandering Michael
At first glance, I thought there were actual people hanging out in the ditch. At second glance, I thought "That guy's overdressed for this weather." At third glance, I realized they weren't moving and that it was the smallest road-side attraction I've ever seen (other than plaques, which I don't think count).
A closer look. Whoever made these human-sized statues did a great job on making the fabric look real.
Somewhat weathered.
From the right angle, it looks like the guy with the pickaxe is going to attack the goldpanner. I can't blame him, really. What kind of goof pans for gold in a patch of flowers? He must be the laughing stock of the claim.
This one is real. A real person, I mean, not a real RCMP officer. He's part of the entertainment at the Beaver Creek Rendezvous, which is well worth the $15 if you happen to be in town or feel like going for a little drive to take in an evening's entertainment.
One evening, as I walked across the Alaska Highway and into Buckshot Betty's large, gravel parking lot, a red Dodge Grand Caravan with a Saskatchewan license plate pulled into the lot, headed in the same direction. Inside the vehicle was an older couple. The woman was driving and the man sat in the passenger seat. They were driving so slowly that we paced each other and arrived at the restaurant's entrance at the same time. The couple got out of the car, went inside, and looked at the menu to decide if they were going to eat there.
The next night, on my walk to the same place, a red Dodge Grand Caravan, this time with an Alberta license plate, pulled into the parking lot. With a cloud of dust, the van whizzed by me to the restaurant's entrance. The man stayed in the driver's seat and kept the engine running while the woman got out to look at the menu and decide if they were going to eat there. Only when she came back outside to suggest the restaurant would be suitable did the man turn off the van.
The two incidents stuck in my mind because they were remarkably similar, yet there were some profound differences. I began to wonder if the two couples in the vans were an apt analogy for some of the differences between Alberta and Saskatchewan. They're both prairie provinces, and yet they're governed in very different ways.
Now I'm keeping my eyes open for a minivan from BC.
Right now, I'm in Beaver Creek, Yukon - Canada's most westerly community. It was a lot colder and snowier the first time I was here, and there seemed to be a lot more Ravens.
It's nice here. From the window of my hotel room, I can see the comings and goings of Alaska Highway travelers and watch the storm clouds rumbling by.
Yesterday, I participated in a Career Fair. It was great to see so many of the community members at the fair and it was fun to meet so many of them. After the fair was over, we were treated to some singing, drumming, and a little bit of dancing.
Singing
Dancing
And now in moving pictures.
After the singing and drumming, there was a tour at the Arcom North archaeology site, where they are uncovering a very old and very plentiful habitation site. I won't make any claims about the site, which I may have remembered incorrectly, but I think it's safe to say that they're finding some of the oldest evidence of human habitation in northern North America.
The site sits on a bluff, overlooking a broad valley, not far from a small river. The site would have been an excellent place to watch game moving through the valley.
Overlooking the valley.
Doug takes a break from watching for game.
A thunderstorm passes./span>
Distant mountains.
One of the dig sites.
One of the student archaeologists shows some of the finds (scrapers, projectile points, bone shards, and knapping tools) to Beaver Creek community members.
Taking a closer look.
According to our hosts, there was a variety of skill levels and styles demonstrated in the tools and projectile points, indicating that the site was more than just a hunting look-out, but a longer-term habitation site where people (likely youth) practiced their knapping abilities.
Obsidian was valuable, because it was relatively easy to knap and could produce better-than-razor-sharp tools. Obsidian can be matched with its place of origin and some obsidian tools have been found over a thousand kilometers from the obsidian source. The interesting thing about the obsidian tools found at the Arcom site is that the obsidian is from a mountain just sixty kilometres away, but the obsidian hasn't turned up outside of the immediate area (i.e. this source doesn't appear to have been been traded). Perhaps the site was a closely guarded secret? Perhaps there was something else going on?
The obsidian came from the lower mountain on the left. It's only a quick 60 km walk.
After the tour, we visited with our hosts, sitting around the campfire, drinking tea, and learning more about what it's like to live at an archaeology camp. They were lamenting that they were out of bread, so I asked for a few ingredients and showed them how to make something even better.
Bannock-on-a-stick. Yummmm!
Beaver Creek isn't a big place, but there's a lot going on!
Speeding down Mississauga's Eglington Avenue like a race car driver, my mind scurried as I tried to think of the best way to explain to a police officer why finding a jar of Hellman's mayonnaise within the next ten minutes constituted a medical emergency.
But I'm getting ahead of myself. I should begin by explaining what this entry is about: It's about traveling with a child who is on the ketogenic diet. If you don't know what the ketogenic diet is, I suggest you read this link and especially this link before continuing.
A Reason to Travel As many an immigrant knows, moving somewhere new means leaving friends and family behind. When I "immigrated" to the North, I left family in Ottawa. Sometimes, my family has come to visit me. On other occasions, it has been incumbent on me to visit them.
Although they've tried, my parents have not been able to visit us since the summer of 2006. My Granny is in a care facility in Toronto and my mother has had to stay close to help attend to matters.
If you've been a long-term reader of Michael's Meanderings, you might remember my Granny. When she and my Pop came to Whitehorse, two years ago, we discovered that she had a brain tumour. It was likely caused by a lifetime of smoking; a small spot of lung cancer that metastasized into an aggressive brain tumour. Since then, she's undergone radiation, brain surgery, and I don't know what else.
Today, she is bed-ridden, barely able to speak, and can barely lift her arms. Her mind, however, is intact. When we first discovered that she had the tumour, she told me that a slow, painful death was her worst nightmare. It's important for her family to be near to make things a little more bearable.
Because of the situation, my parents and siblings still hadn't met now-seven-month-old Halia. Neither had my Granny. I figured it was about time they did and, if you can't bring Mohammed to the mountain, you bring the mountain to Mohammed (or whichever way that's supposed to go).
We weren't necessarily looking forward to traveling because of the challenges that come along with the ketogenic diet, but you do what you've gotta do...
Preparing to Travel Fawn spent hours preparing enough meals for the two-day trip, as well as some extra meals, just in case we had trouble finding keto-friendly supplies in Ottawa. The diet is very strict and brand substitutions are not an option unless a new recipe is created and approved in the "keto-calculator". Each recipe is created for a specific individual, with a specific number of calories, and a strict ratio of fat to protein to carbohydrates, and, short of skipping an occasional meal, there is no flexibility. Eating a meal that's not in proportion can cause Jade to fall out of ketosis, possibly undoing all of the gains we've made trying to get rid of her seizures.
With our luggage, two children's car seats, the portable cooler full of pre-measured keto-meals, and a carryon suitcase packed with keto-recipes and the large scientific scale that we use for preparing Jade's meals, we boarded the Air North flight from Whitehorse to Vancouver.
Cooler Craziness - Flying from Whitehorse to Ottawa We could have made the trip from Whitehorse to Ottawa in one day, but intentionally booked our flights so it would take two. We wanted to break things up so it would be more manageable. Also, we wanted to have a visit - however brief - with Fawn's sister and brother-in-law.
The flight to Vancouver, as usual, was a good one. Good ol' Air North is always happy to store Jade's food-packed cooler in one of the cabinets at the front of the plane.
On our WestJet flights to Ottawa (via Toronto), there were a couple of hiccups. The first was when they didn't do a pre-boarding call, making all of the parents with small children try to herd their children through an already-full airplane, bopping the other passengers on the heads with their diaper bags and coolers full of keto-meals.
The second hiccup was the hight of the cooler - or the shortness of the WestJet seats, depending on how you want to look at it. The plane to Toronto didn't have any cabinets where we could store the cooler, so it had to go with us to our seat. Unfortunately, the WestJet seats are about an inch too short for the cooler.
The flight attendants wanted us to tip the cooler on its side and store it in the overhead bins, but we couldn't do that because the more-liquidy meals could leak. Fortunately, they were understanding about it all and allowed us to keep the cooler on the floor as long as it was against the wall of the plane and Jade got the window seat - that way we could keep the way clear if we needed to evacuate our seats in a hurry. The flight attendants informed us that this was the last time we'd be able to do that.
After a quick stopover in Toronto, we boarded the plane for our flight to Ottawa. We had the same little hiccup with the cooler. Fortunately, they allowed us to use the same seating arrangement as last time, but informed us that it was the last time that we'd be able to do that.
Visiting Family In Ottawa, my Mum managed to hold back her tears at the airport, but turned into a blubbery mess when we got back to her house. She was happy. It was her first time seeing Jade since before Jade's seizures started, and it was her first time meeting her newest granddaughter, Halia. She would turn into a happy, blubbering mess again and again over the next few days. While that in itself would make the whole trip worthwhile, there was someone else we wanted to visit, too - my Granny.
Visiting my Granny in Toronto would entail a drive from Ottawa to Toronto on what must be the most boring yet (ironically) stressful highway in Canada. I'm not sure why we decided to drive to Toronto after having landed there just days before. Had I known how close the care home was to the airport, I would have planned things differently.
For our trip, we booked a hotel room close to the care home. Then, we prepared more keto-meals: I worked on some and Fawn worked on others. We packed and loaded the car and drove to The Big Stink.
I was bored to tears for most of the drive and hated the traffic (one of the many reasons why I live in the North), but we got there safe and sound.
Normally, a trip to Toronto would be no big deal, but we were worried. The night before we left, Jade came down with a deep, throaty, cough. She had handled the three-hour time zone change well and the disruption in her sleep pattern didn't result in a noticeably large increase in her seizures, but we were concerned about what a cold would do. For a child with epilepsy (and who is on the ketogenic diet), even a common cold can bring with it all sorts of other problems - increased siezure activity being one of them.
Because the diet is so strict, we have to be very careful about carbohydrates. Antibiotics, Tylenol, and just about every medication you can think of - have carbohydrates in them. We have a list of medications that she's allowed to have and in what proportions, but it's still unnerving. Outside of the specialists, very few doctors know that the ketogenic diet even exists, let alone how it works (and its restrictions). Our keto-team had given us a contact in Ottawa if we should need help, but we didn't know who - if anyone - we could get in touch with in Toronto.
After checking in at the hotel, we had a short visit with my Granny. We were tired and it was time to get the kids to bed. Back in the hotel room, I started feeding Jade, who was coughing, overtired, and squirrelly.
"Give her some of the mayonnaise," Fawn said. I had prepared the meal that I was feeding to Jade and I didn't recall weighing any mayo for it.
"There's mayo in this recipe?" I asked, incredulously, having prepared it myself.
Fawn assured me that there was and I looked at the recipe card in disbelief, seeing that there was, indeed, supposed to be 10g of mayonnaise. The implications of my error hit me like a tonne of bricks hitting a banana. If I couldn't keep Jade's meal in proportion, she would be thrown out of ketosis. She needed to stay in ketosis.
I thanked the heavens that we had decided to bring her scale (which we had almost opted to leave behind), but cursed myself because we didn't have any mayonnaise to weigh into the meal.
Knowing that urgent action needed to be taken, I rushed out of the door in search of some Hellmann's mayonnaise. I had about twenty minutes to find some.
The area where we were staying wasn't exactly a residential area, which meant that a grocery store was not likely to be in close proximity. I asked the agent at the hotel's front desk, but the directions that he gave me were wrong (yes, I followed them correctly). I started with a couple of convenience stores, but they had nothing. I also struck out at a couple of delis and a sub shop. The delis had mayo, but they didn't know what brand. They must have thought I was a sales rep from Hellman's because I kept insisting that it had to be Hellman's.
Time was quickly running out. One of the convenience store clerks gave me directions to a grocery store, but his accent was so thick I couldn't understand him even when he spelled the name of the street he was telling me to turn right onto. Only half-listening because I didn't want to be rude but really didn't have time to ask for clarification, I thanked him and sped off in that general direction that he told me to go.
It was at this time that I realised I was driving aggressively above the speed limit. I tried to think of the best way to explain to a police officer - if I got pulled over - why it was a medical emergency for me to buy some Hellmans mayonnaise and get it back to my hotel room within the next ten minutes. Maybe my story would be so ludicrous that he would arrest me on the spot. I prayed that my story would be so convincing that he would turn on the lights and siren and guide me to the nearest grocery store and back.
I sped toward another intersection and what the convenience store clerk had told me clicked. I hung a right, having no clue where I was supposed to go next. Fortunately, after a few blocks, the grocery store came into view.
I ran in, bought the mayonnaise, and dashed back out.
Keeping Things in Proportion (and Perspective) Back at the hotel, Fawn had recalculated Jade's meal and discovered that it could still be served in proportion (albeit with fewer calories) if she removed some of the meat and carrots from the meal.
When I arrived, Jade had just finished her half-meal. Not wanting to deprive her of any calories, I weighed out the 10g of mayo and served it to her.
Jade took a bite. Then, she threw up. She kept throwing up until everything she had eaten came out. I caught most of it in my hand. I caught the rest of it in one of her food containers.
I cleaned up and checked to see if she had a fever. She did and she was coughing even harder than before.
I thought, "This trip sucks."
Fawn and I put her to bed and, after nearly hacking out a lung, Jade fell asleep. Later, we gave her a keto-approved suppository which we had brought with us to help quell her fever. Normally, she fights suppositories but, short of a little whine, did not resist this time. She must have been feeling awful.
I thought, "She's really sick. Why the heck did we come here?"
I asked the question, but already knew the answer, really. We came to see my Granny for what would likely be the last time.
Morning Breaks and So Does the Fever Jade was a little better the next morning. Her fever had broken. She didn't want breakfast so we decided to skip it. A small fast had the potential to help deepen her ketosis, which would be good for fighting the seizures that might want to increase as a result of her cold and fever.
It was hard to say good-bye to my Granny, but I was glad that she had met her great-grandkids. It was hard to see her suffering, but it was still good to see her. I was glad that we had done the drive.
Jade and Halia slept most of the way back.
The cream is different in Ontario
I've already mentioned that brand is important when it comes to the ketogenic diet. Unfortunately, the recipe for one brand in Ontario isn't necessarily the same recipe for the same brand in another province or territory.
Take cream, for example. In the Yukon, 35% Beatrice Cream is made from cream and carrageenan. In Ontario, the same brand is made from the same stuff, but with a dozen more things added, including sweeteners that would totally mess-up Jade's diet. None of the other half-dozen brands were any better.
You would think that cream - actual cream made without sweeteners - should be easy to find in a big place like Ottawa, but it isn't. In the end, I was able to track it down in a non-vegan natural food store, but only after a couple of liters of the keto-unfriendly stuff had been purchased and nearly a week into our visit.
The Next Stop
It was time to bid farewell to my parents and siblings. There were more tears and more hugs, and we boarded the plane for Vancouver. Again, there would be a stopover, but this time it was for an EEG and an appointment with Jade's epileptologist.
To prepare, we had done the same routine as we had on the way out, with Fawn preparing enough of Jade's meals for our stay in Vancouver and for the flight back to Whitehorse.
While I was gone, they did fun things like go to a petting zoo. Unfortunately, while they were out and about, Fawn noticed that one of the strawberries in Jade's meal had gone moldy. Just like having too many carbohydrates in a meal isn't a good thing, suddenly increasing the ratio of a meal by not having enough carbohydrates can be hard on Jade's system. Also, mold isn't very nice to eat (says a guy who's speaking from experience). Somehow, Fawn and Jade managed - but always having to worry that much about meals and all the things that can go wrong (spills, improper measurements, inconsistent brand recipes, mold, etc.) can be stressful. Suddenly having to deal with a KME (Keto-Meal Emergency) can take all of the fun out of traveling.
The EEG and the Ketogenic Diet
The next day, when I was back in Vancouver and reunited with Fawn and the kids, Jade had a back-end explosion that required deep scrubbing in several rooms and made us ten minutes late for her EEG. We wondered if it was the strawberries or if she had picked up something else on our travels.
It was Fawn's first time seeing one of Jade's EEGs. I wandered the hospital grounds with an overtired (and too loud to be in the EEG room) Halia while we waited.
The bad news was that Jade is showing signs of having tonic seizures, which can indicate a poor prognosis for the future. The good news is that isn't necessarily always the case and she may have been having them all along (just not when she had an EEG). The great news is that there has been a significant improvement in her EEG results overall and the epileptologist was quite pleased.
As much trouble as it is, and as many problems as there are (and can be), the diet is still better than the drugs we had her on. Best of all - best of all - IT'S WORKING!
Last weekend, I went for a bike ride to 37-Mile Lake with Eric. I didn't have my camera, so if you want to see a few pictures, check out Eric's blog.
It was good to get out like that. It had been far too long. If I go too long without having a good, long hike or bike ride, I start to get cranky. All of the stresses of life build up, bit by bit, and I am a much poorer father and husband for it. Every once-in-a-while, I need to get out and rejuvenate my spirit.
The ride wasn't easy at first. It's not that it's a technically difficult ride, but it took a little while to get into the groove on the rolling uphill climb. It didn't help that my mangled big toe was throbbing from an unfortunate incident a few days before when I tripped on a ukulele and stubbed it on the hutch, pulling off skin and folding my toenail lengthwise along my toe.
Up and up and down and up we went, following the valley up towards the end of the lake.
When we got as far as we could ride, we left our bikes behind and walked over the giant grassy hummocks to the shore of the tranquil lake. Small fish were hopping out of the water, catching bugs. Eric stopped, but I continued on, limping as I went, driven to see more of the lake than we could see from the end.
Needing to give my foot a break, I found a nice solid mound of grass and sat down. Then, I listened.
For someone who's used to the city, they would say that a place like 37-Mile Lake, away from combustion engines and the noises of people, is quiet. It certainly isn't. The buzzing of the mosquitoes, the chirping of birds, the jumping of fish, the rushing of far of streams, and the fluttering of trembling aspens are anything but quiet. The difference is that, in a city, all of the noises of traffic and building ventilation and construction and electricity combine to create a throbbing and squealing din. If you've lived in it long enough, you likely don't notice it - but it's there. When you're in a place like 37-Mile Lake, away from all the manmade noisemakers, the sounds of the bugs and birds and fish and rushing streams and fluttering leaves all combine to form a giant calming "hussssssssssssssh" - like a mother gently soothing an already sleeping child.
As I listened to the hush of the planet, I could feel myself relax. All of the concerns and frustrations and things that I had been holding onto but didn't really matter drained away. It felt good. I closed my eyes and, for no reason other than a feeling of complete contentment, I smiled.
When was the last time I did that?
Everyone has their own place to find peace and contentment, whether they go there or not. Some go to church. Others find it in their garden, or painting, or rebuilding a vehicle, or reading a book. I find it out there, in the wild places. That's where I rejuvenate my spirit. That is where I cleanse my soul.
My apologies for the dearth in posts lately. I've been on the road a fair bit (something that I'll be sure to write about in the near future), but have also been occupied by a few other things. This entry is about one of those things.
When we moved into our (ug, pink!) house, one of the few things I liked about it (at the time - it was pink after all) was the greenhouse. I think I liked the greenhouse because it wasn't pink (yuck!), like our home was.
Sadly, election signs doth not make for good building material and the greenhouse covering had to be replaced. With the help of a friend, I did just that, but the damage was already done. The wood was rotting and I managed to get only a couple more years out of it before I decided to tear it down and start from scratch.
The old greenhouse.
First, though, I needed to build a new shed. It was nearly impossible to retrieve anything from the little (pink) shed without tripping and impaling myself on one thing or another in the cramped little box.
Work started on the new shed last summer. I designed it and most of the work was done by my brother and his associate, Ryan. We weren't able to finish it before the snow came, but it's 99% complete now and I'm ready to share some pictures.
When I started designing the shed, I wanted to include enough space for working on my canoe, the bikes, the lawnmower, and camping gear storage.
Welcome to the shed, with enough space for working on my canoe, the bikes, the lawnmower, and camping gear. I designed the doors as sliding doors because I didn't want to have to shovel piles of snow to get inside in the winter.
The bikes and the lawnmower.
Ample room for camping gear.
Lots of workshop space (still a work in progress).
My brother had an idea to include a little something special in the shed...
The bouldering room - perfect for practicing climbing technique, or as a place to let kids climb the walls.
Of course, designing the shed the size I wanted it didn't leave much room in the yard for the greenhouse. Not wanting to lose all of my yard space, I took the lead of any city with space constraints: I built up!
The greenhouse/shed combination.
Let's take a trip upstairs, shall we? But first, let's stop and admire the vented fuel cabinet and garden tool storage area that was built under the stairs.
The vented fuel cabinet and garden tool storage area, which is filled with...
...fuel and garden tools!
Resuming the tour, let's head up the primed but not-yet-painted stairs...
The stairs.
Given that the shed is rather large, the greenhouse is, too. Let's take a peek inside the custom-made door...
Peek!
Not all of the beds have been filled, but when they are, there is going to be ample space for growing things! The floor and walls of the shed have been built well above code to handle the weight of the filled plant boxes.
The soon-to-be-filled beds.
Some of the beds are filled already!
Tomatoes with supportive netting.
One of the things I noticed in the old greenhouse was how the boxes dripped every time we watered the plants. Eventually, the boxes started rotting around the base. I decided to try a different approach and lined the boxes with plastic. On top of the plastic, I stacked yogurt containers, which I covered with a layer of chicken wire and black garden carpeting. On top of all this went the soil. With this design, excess water (in theory) drops through to the open plastic-lined area, so I can't over-water my plants. Conversely, if I miss a watering, the soil will remain moist when the excess water in the chamber evaporates back into the soil. So far, it has been working pretty well! Eventually, I'll get around to putting 1" strips of wood along the edges of the boxes to help protect and support the plastic.
At Whitehorse's altitude, our evening still get a bit cool. On top of that, spring comes late and fall comes early, so it's important to make sure the temperature in the greenhouse is warm enough for the plants. Later in the year, I'll probably use this kerosene heater to help fend off the frost.
The heater, which will also be used to heat the workshop when I'm working out there in the winter.
While it may get cold in the evening, it can be positively sauna-like during the day. I needed to build in a ventilation system. In discussions with Tim and Ryan, we eventually came up with dual approach to cooling.
The fastest and most effective way to cool a greenhouse is to vent the gables. Not wanting to blow a tonne of money on complex and expensive window cranks or levers, we used custom-cut plascolite (plexiglass) in a custom-cut and sealed wooden frames and designed a pulley system to allow the hot air to vent upwards. Rain is prevented from falling inside by flashing over the windows.
Windows closed in the gables.
The "small" window, opened part way.
Tying off the window to the desired level of "openness".
The venting windows, as seen from outside. (There is a back-up chain to prevent the windows from opening too far.
From the other angle just because I'm extra proud of the venting windows.
Both windows open from the inside.
The vented windows aren't the only way to keep the greenhouse at a reasonable temperature, though. Just in case nobody's around to open the windows, we installed a couple of temperature-sensitive blower fans that come on automatically when the temperature in the greenhouse gets too high and turn off when the desired temperature is achieved. With the handy-dandy light switches underneath, we can easily turn the fans off whenever we want. Yes, my greenhouse is wired for power!
The backup cooling system.
The cooling system on the other side of the greenhouse. The fans are bi-directional, so I have them blow out hot air on one side of the greenhouse and suck in cool air on the other.
Thanks to the size of the shed, there is lots of room in the greenhouse. Lucky me! Instead of being stuck in the house all day while I work, now I'll be able to work in the warmth and sunshine of the greenhouse in the spring and fall! Hurrah for wireless Internet and portable phones!
Workspace. And relaxing space. I choose to call it "worklaxing space".
So why did we only get the greenhouse finished this year? The big hold-up in construction was the roofing material. I wanted something stronger and safer than glass, but Lexan was too flexible and too expensive. Eventually I discovered Plascolite (plexiglass), which was much cheaper and much thicker and won't (shouldn't) yellow in the sun. I didn't receive the Plascolite until this spring. I couldn't order it in sizes long enough to reach right up to the ridgepole, so we shingled a section of the roof for extra strength and as a place to walk, if repairs are needed to the roof. To seal the seam between the sheets of Plascolite, we applied a strip of seam sealing tape.
This picture only shows a half strip of seam sealer on the roof. I'm waiting for more to come in to the hardware store.
All of the windows (with the exception of the gables) are made out of regular glass, sealed with silicon. I went with regular glass for those windows because it's cheap, easy to cut, and easy to replace if I have to replace it.
Now, if you're a gardener, you're probably wondering, "The greenhouse is on the second floor. How does he get water up there for the plants? It must be awfully inconvenient."
That couldn't be further from the truth and it's one of my favourite parts of the whole thing! The water supply starts with the rain, which falls on the greenhouse, runs into the eaves, drains down the spout, and into the rain barrels.
Rainwater collection system.
From the rain barrels, the water gets brought up inside by...
The hand pump! The big laundry tub drains outside and away from the greenhouse. Right now, it's full of water that we're pre-warming for the plants. Warm water helps to keep them happy!
Yup, if you haven't been able to tell, I really,really like the shed/greenhouse and am 100% glad that we built what I wanted, the way I wanted it. It was a great learning experience I'm enjoying the whole thing immensely.
In fact, I'm thinking of moving in and renting out the real house.
In the craziness that is life, I completely forgot to celebrate my 3rd anniversary of being self-employed.
Not too long ago, someone sent me a job advertisement. I read it over and thought, it would be nice to work with a team again and the benefits are good. With a steady income like that, Fawn could be a stay-at-home mom if she wanted.
I sent the ad to Fawn and she said, without a doubt in her mind, "You'd hate it."
"Right!" I realised, "I'd have to wear a suit and tie!"
I love my wife. She knows me so well.
Three years later and I'm still glad I made the switch.
I was just past Carmacks, en route to Dawson City for the Commissioner's Ball, when I suddenly realized that I'd left something behind. Having just gotten into Whitehorse from Ottawa the night before, I was tired when I packed for the Big Band's latest gig.
I'd managed to remember my trumpet. I'd packed my trumpet mutes and my music. I'd managed to remember my black dress pants and my dress shirt. I'd remembered to pack a change of clothes for the day after. I'd remembered my toothbrush. I'd even remembered to pack a water bottle for the over four-hour-long gig. What I had forgotten was my dress shoes.
Running shoes and concert dress don't exactly go together - and they're definitely not appropriate for a gig as prestigious as the Commissioner's Ball.
I got into Dawson City just before 16:00. The gig was scheduled to start a little over three hours later. I had to find some dress shoes and I had to find them fast.
Buying a new pair of dress shoes at a store wasn't an option; Dawson City doesn't have one that sells dress shoes. I decided to call my friend, James. He would be about the same size as me, I figured, and I was certain he'd be willing to lend me a pair for the night, if he had them. He's just that kind of guy.
When I called, his housemate answered the phone. He didn't know where James was, but his car was in the driveway, so he was likely around somewhere. I decided to walk over to his house just in case he came back. He still wasn't there by the time I walked over, so I left a message and went off in search of another acquaintance who I knew had a habit of wearing dress shoes.
I knew something wasn't right when I approached my acquaintance's house. Through the window on the door, I could see a toddler playing on the floor. A confirmed bachelor, I wondered if my acquaintance knew that his house had been invaded by a child. I walked away from the house to be sure that I had the right one (I did) and knocked, tentatively. The new occupant (the toddler's mom) informed me that my acquaintance had moved to one of the outlying subdivisions.
I was out of luck. I didn't have time to go traipsing around outside of Dawson City's downtown core. The gig would be starting soon.
Earlier, one of my band-mates had offered to place a wager that I wouldn't be able to find a pair of dress shoes in Dawson City on such short notice. I assured him that I could and I would.
"It's the Yukon!" I declared, "If you need something, just ask around!" I was wholly confident that the people of the Yukon would come through. They always did. Always.
Now, as I walked back to the Palace Grand, defeated, I was glad that I hadn't placed that bet.
I had one more option, but it was only a mediocre solution at best. I stopped into one of the tourist shops and bought a pair of dark, dark blue Crocs. At least the Crocs wouldn't stand out the way my light grey and green running shoes would, I reasoned.
With about fifteen minutes to go before the show started, I modeled the Crocs for my wagering band-mate, displaying what was, simultaneously, a modest failure and a modest success. From a distance and in the dimly lit dancehall, they could pass as dress shoes. Up close, they were still Crocs.
Not ten minutes after that, however, James showed up. He was dressed to the nines for the Commissioner's Ball. Standing regally in his tuxedo, he held up his hands. In each hand, he held a pair of black dress shoes - one hand with a larger pair of dress slip-on, and one hand with a smaller pair of black lace-up shoes. I chose the larger pair of slip-ons.
Once again, the Yukon worked its magic. The magic of the North isn't he spectacular scenery, the wildlife, or even the northern lights. It's not the fresh air, the phenomenon of the frigid winter cold, or the miracle of the midnight sun. The magic of the North is the hospitality of the people: People who are always willing to lend a hand and who expect nothing in return: People who always come through when you need them: People who, friend or stranger, look out for each other.
Thanks to that Northern magic and, thanks to James, my fairy godmother (who is neither a fairy nor my godmother), I had slippers for the Ball, after all.
