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Another Break by a Lake

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There’s an annual B.C. camping trip that a group of friends has taken the first or second weekend of May since the early 90s. At one time, there were upwards of twenty people that attended and apparently it got pretty unruly. Thankfully, I didn’t start going up there until later that decade and it has been kept small ever since.

If any of this sounds familiar, it’s because I’ve written about this trip before, right around the same time last year.

Over the years, I’ve dropped in and out of the trip for various reasons. Up until last year, I hadn’t attended in eight years as I was pouring everything I could into my business and work was a priority.  My little car was also showing its age. Fully loaded for camping, no matter how careful I drove, I couldn’t make it up the goat track section of the road without rocks and high spots introducing themselves to the bottom of my car. I don’t even want to know what it would cost to get towed out of there.

Now that I’ve got a little more of a utility vehicle, a Pontiac Vibe, I started going back up last year and it’s got juuuuuust enough clearance.

This year, The Calgary Expo was one week later and the camping trip one week earlier, just bad calendar luck. With only three days between the two, it was a scramble to draw enough cartoons for my papers, meet a deadline for an Autodesk/Wacom commission, and still be ready to leave Thursday morning, but I was determined.
smBreakfastFive of us in four vehicles, it was an easy trip up.  A little rain on the first day, but three days of warmth and sunshine from Friday to Sunday, so no complaints in the weather department. With camping, weather is more than half the battle. Mosquitos are another foe, one I failed to conquer judging by the number of bites I’ve been scratching while writing this.

The last three months have been hectic, and I was glad to have it all out of the way for this trip. With nothing but my book deadline looming and the usual cartoons, I had three restful nights, even slept in ‘til 8:30 every day. For a guy who gets up at 5:00 most of the time, that’s an accomplishment.

Aside from the obligatory errand into the woods to buck up deadfall for firewood, and splitting/stacking it back at camp, there was nothing on the agenda. Didn’t even eat or drink too much, so no mornings marred by poor judgment the night before. A few old friends came up for a welcome afternoon visit on Saturday and aside from campers on the other side of the lake, we had the place pretty much to ourselves with plenty of room to spread out our tents, trucks and trailer.
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I spent my time hanging out with the group, reading, paddling around the lake in the canoe, stalking ducks and squirrels with the camera and even managed some writing on the last afternoon. I did not, however, do any drawing. Not one sketch. Apparently I needed a little break from that, too.
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The temperature of a mountain lake in May is a might chilly, but since we all chickened out on swimming last year, I was determined to go in this time. The first dip on Friday was quick enough to get clean and it was most definitely not the typical Canadian swimming temperature of “it’s fine…once you get in.”

The next day, I did manage to swim around for ten minutes before I began to lose feeling in my toes.

I don’t enjoy being idle for too long, and realized on the last evening, that I was ready to go home, which is a good sign. Too many lazy days and I get bored, so I was happy to make the drive home. Managed to pull over and take some shots of this black bear on the way back, too, which was a nice surprise.
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On the drive home, I realized how very much I needed the camping trip this year. Next year, I might not. But it’s a nice option to have if the timing is right.

People will often tell me that I work too much, but they obviously don’t get it. I enjoy my work, even though it sometimes pisses me off (see: politics). As some of my friends are a fair bit older than I am, they’re either retired already or talk about it often. I’m of a mind that my best work is still ahead of me and my biggest fear is that some future malady or handicap will prevent me from working as long as I want to.

While I’m saving to be comfortable in my senior years, retirement is not on my radar. My work will change and evolve, I’m sure, but I can’t imagine wanting to stop. I thrive on it.

Camping trips and vacations are necessary to reset and recharge, but that means something different for each person. For me, two or three days doing nothing by a lake is ideal. Anything more than that, and I’d rather be working.

But every now and then, I still want those two or three days.

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A Break by a Lake

WoodThere’s a little lake in the Invermere Valley of British Columbia that I was introduced to almost twenty years ago by my buddy, Jim. He’s been going there every year without fail, for well over two decades. It was with surprise recently that I realized it had been eight years since my last visit. The reason for my absence was due in part to the demands of self-employment, building a business, and being a workaholic who has refused to take much time off since starting this gig full-time about that many years ago.

The other reason was that I had a little car I was trying to keep for as long as possible and when it was fully loaded with camping gear, it rode a little low to the ground. Given the nature of the road up to the lake, and the fact that on previous visits the undercarriage met with more than a few rock-knocks, I was reluctant to risk it on an often unpredictable road.

With the retirement of that car last year, and my upgrade to what amounts to today’s version of a station wagon, my Pontiac Vibe, I felt it was time to rejoin the world of camping, especially since I have all of the gear. I did splurge on a new instant pop-up tent this year, however, which worked like a charm. That’s the little green one on the far right.

CampsiteThis second weekend of May is an annual tradition for a number of friends, though people have drifted in and out of the group as time has worn on. This year, there were five of us. While it’s pretty much a guy’s weekend, our friends Babe and Susan come together, so she’s the exception to the rule.

The lake is an ideal spot that used to be a bit of a secret hideaway, but if you’ve camped anywhere in Alberta and BC lately, you’ll know that there is very little quiet and solitude to be had unless you’re off-road in the back-country. Fortunately, if you head out before the May long weekend, you might be up against unpredictable weather and a lake too cold for swimming, but you’ve got a better chance of finding a little peace.

I’d been looking forward to this weekend for quite some time this year, especially since the first four months of 2015 were very busy, with few chances for a break.

As if testing my determination to relax, our convoy of four vehicles was almost to the lake, and not yet on the roughest part of the road, when we stopped to enjoy the scenery and an unmistakable hissing sound announced that my front left tire wasn’t going to make it much further.

While I know how to change a tire, I’ve never actually had to, outside of my driver training course in the Army Reserves over twenty years ago. Believe it or not, aside from a couple of slow leaks taken in for repair over the years, I’ve never had a flat tire that warranted a roadside change. Not once.

While I began to unload my gear to get to the jack and spare, I’d barely brought it out before Jim and Al assumed the role of pit crew and had the tire changed, much quicker than I would have.

With the donut spare in place, half my gear loaded in the other vehicles, the others went on ahead to ensure we got our preferred spot, one of only three on the whole lake. I drove back down the road to the highway, headed for the Canadian Tire in Invermere. Thankfully, they managed to get my car into the shop in less than an hour. A sharp rock was the culprit, but in a good place for a patch. The mechanic told me it was a very common occurrence in that area with all of the dirt roads.

About three hours after discovering the flat, I was back up at the lake, enjoying a frosty beverage and the sunshine. Despite insomnia the first night (for no apparent reason), I couldn’t have asked for a better weekend.
ClelandGroupWe had beautiful warm weather for four days, interrupted only by some cloud cover on Sunday and a few seconds of very light rain. Saturday morning, I rose early and was canoeing around the lake with my camera before anybody else had gotten up.
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ChipmunkWith plenty of time to read, take photos, play a little guitar, eat, drink and enjoy each others company, four days in the woods by a lake does wonders for one’s perspective. As there is barely any cell service in the area, the usual distractions from email and text alerts were conspicuously absent, though a short walk up the dirt road did allow for one bar of service, so our Moms did get their calls on Mother’s Day.

With no plans to stray far from home this summer, I’m already planning another camping trip in a few weeks, this time here in Alberta. If it doesn’t end up as dry as they’re predicting, or as wet as 2013, here’s hoping I can manage a few more of these outdoor breaks before the snow flies again.

It would appear to agree with me.

PatrickFB

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An Island Retreat

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Last year, I had the idea to go away on a little bit of a working vacation, an artist’s retreat, for lack of a better term. Intending to start small, I was just going to drive down the road to Kananaskis in the fall, stay at the Lodge for a few days, and just sketch, draw, paint, and write.

True to my nature, I found a reason to cancel a couple of weeks beforehand with the excuse that I was too busy. Then I beat myself up about it, angry at my habit of talking a good game when it comes to stuff like this, and then playing it safe and chaining myself to my routine. It’s an odd quirk, considering that I had no problem quitting my safe full-time job eight years ago to freelance for a living.

Thankfully, my wife and I took an impromptu vacation to Vegas around the same time, did a whole bunch of fun stuff (biplane tour over the Hoover Dam, skydiving, gun range, saw some shows) and my failure to take the retreat was temporarily forgotten.

As winter wore on, overwhelmed with work, plus planning for the Calgary Expo, the thought of getting away started to creep in again. When I brought it up to my ever-supportive wife that I was thinking of going back to Ucluelet, somewhere we’d vacationed three years ago, she gave her blessing and I started planning.

I’d fly into Comox on May 31st, rent a car, drive across Vancouver Island, rent a cabin and for four or five days, I’d just sketch, draw, paint, and write. Shonna told me to save myself some money and use the Air Miles for the flight and car. I didn’t figure out why until later.

As the trip grew closer, and I realized how much work I had to do to, I started to once again consider that perhaps I was too busy to take this time off. But if you cancel a trip made with Air Miles, you lose them. That’s pretty much what kept me from finding a reason not to go. She’s sneaky, that wife of mine.

As a chronic over-planner, I tried my best to remain open to the adventure while still keeping my eye on the ball.  I fought my urge to please everybody and declined a number of offers of visits with people I know on the Island. But I did make time for one night in the Courtenay/Comox area. Had a BBQ with good friends who use to live here in the Bow Valley, spent the night with long-time family friends (their son is one of my oldest and closest friends), and planned to see my uncle and his wife on the way back to the airport on the last day. That was all I had time for unless I removed the whole reason for taking the trip. Selfishly, and without apology, this was all about me.

The mountain road out to Ucluelet and Tofino is winding, narrow, and a little hairy in places. I’m not a road trip kind of guy, I don’t like driving much in general, but that drive was a lot of fun thanks to the zippy little (and bright green) Mazda 2 the rental company gave me. Heading out early, I avoided any traffic and arrived in Ucluelet on Sunday morning before noon, to an ideal little cabin right on the harbour. It was bright green to match the car.

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The plan was to sketch, draw, paint, write and be creative. Shonna and I took a wildlife tour three years ago with Archipelago Wildlife Cruises and it was a highlight of our trip to the Island. I wanted to spend another day on the water with them again. I was going to walk along Long Beach again, spend at least one day in Tofino, and hike some trails in between there and Ucluelet. I wanted to be productive, make the most of my time and get stuff done. In no time at all, the best laid plans of this obsessive over-planner were tossed out the window.

I didn’t sketch at all. Not once. I didn’t paint. I only wrote one blog post. I wasn’t creative in the slightest.

Hiked every day on the Wild Pacific and other trails, including a very creepy, but exhilarating walk through the rainforest to Half Moon Bay at twilight, where I didn’t see another soul for more than two hours.  I spent three days on the water with people I now consider friends, and that’s an upcoming post all on its own. I was still up before 6:00AM every day, out with the camera and a coffee in my travel mug. I wandered the harbour and docks, smelling the salt air, and ignored the news of the world. I took a ton of photos. It was perfect.

Talking to Shonna one night, I confided that I really didn’t feel like going to Tofino. I didn’t even feel like going to Long Beach, as there was plenty for me right around Ukee. But, I felt like I was supposed to go to these places because I was already in the area. She told me to do whatever I wanted, that it was my trip. If I wanted to stay in bed all day in the cabin, read a book and take naps, then that’s what I should do. And she was right.

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There was this familiar urge to get things accomplished, but the only work I did was that I managed to get my prints into two new galleries, in both Ucluelet and Tofino, which will again be a whole other post, and I still didn’t have to go to Tofino. I felt this obligation to come back from the trip with a sketchbook full of work, thousands of words written, and a line by line accounting that quantified and justified the expense, as if I had a boss I needed to impress when I got home.

Last I checked, I became a freelancer so I didn’t have to deal with a boss like that.

Another artist might think it a sacrilege that I went all that way and didn’t do any of the creative stuff I was “supposed to do” while I was there. But according to what so many have told me I should be doing over the years, everything I’ve done to build my successful career as a freelancer has been wrong, anyway. Most of the advice I’ve gotten from other artists has been based on their own experience, and people like to justify their way of doing things by telling others they should do the same thing. If I were to add my own experience based truth about this profession, I would say, “Consider all of the advice, but ignore most of it. Trust your own instincts and chart your own course. It’s the only way you’re ever going to be happy.”

This trip exceeded my expectations. I came home inspired and invigorated. I will do it again, might even go back to the same place because I loved being there and I loved coming home, too. The photos I took have given me plenty of reference to paint from and that allows me to relive the experience. Given the chance to do it all over, I wouldn’t change a thing.

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A Change of Place

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It’s easy to become so accustomed to your surroundings that you fail to see the forest for the trees.  Living in Canmore, we often forget to look around and realize that we are so incredibly fortunate to live in one of the most beautiful places in the world.  You can get used to anything, no matter how idyllic.

Sure, I go on my hikes, sketch and take photos and appreciate the beauty, but when you’ve lived in a place for a long time, you never quite recover the feeling of seeing it anew.  It’s only when we happen to hear a visitor exclaim with awe and wonder how majestic and beautiful our mountains are, that many of us stop, look around and think, “yeah, they’re pretty spectacular, aren’t they?”

I found this sense of wonder this morning in Ucluelet.  Wandering the small craft harbour, socked in by fog and low hanging cloud.  With a camera ’round my neck, a sketchbook in my backpack and my first cup of coffee of the day in hand, I marveled at the sights, sounds and smells, experiencing my first morning in this place.

At 6 AM on a Monday, there are low conversations and murmurs from the boats, as men get ready to head out for a day of fishing.  Some of these are surely tourist charters, but clearly there are those that aren’t.  Having been a local in a tourist town for many years, it’s easy to spot the difference.

In a broad sense, these locals are no different than any others.  Just another morning at work, they’re likely oblivious to the little nuances that are making me smile, take in a scene, or breathe a sigh of relief that I don’t have to work this morning.  Anyone who has been in fog knows the sound is different, and I quite like it.  Seagulls and ravens criss-cross the harbour, some with little morsels in their mouths, others bitching at the ones who got some when they didn’t.

At home, ravens calling and squawking outside my window is annoying, and I often wish that they’d just shut the hell up.  But here, they add to the scene, the immersion in the experience and the change of place has me welcoming their racket.

Sitting at the small table in my cabin as I write, I just looked up and saw a bald eagle fly by in the distance, the details hazy in the lifting fog, but unmistakable with his white crown and tail feathers. It’s a little exciting, because I don’t get to see them often, they show up so rarely at home.

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This is how the tourists in Banff and Canmore feel when they see an elk, or if they’re fortunate, a whole herd of them. For locals, the elk are easily viewed as a hazard to avoid while walking or driving. We have our little condescending smiles when the tourists go gaga over them and start snapping pics like crazy. I imagine a local here might have felt the same had they spied me on a dock yesterday, where I spent twenty minutes happily taking photos of a bald eagle high in a tree, silly tourist that I am.

This is clearly why I’m here and why a trip like this is necessary. While calling it an artist retreat sounds haughty and pretentious, it’s really just a change of place to adjust my focus. I’ve no doubt that I’ll return home with a renewed sense of inspiration to paint, write, and sketch. It happens after every vacation, so it’ll no doubt be doubly so after this one.

Finally, it strikes me that I am incredibly blessed. Not only to have the means to take a trip like this, a purely selfish excursion, even politely telling a couple of friends that they could not come with me, but that I have the support of my wife, and those same friends who said, “Go. Have fun. Do what you gotta do.”

Someone once said, “They’re always making more money, but nobody has figured out a way to make more time.”

It’s the fear of squandering my own time, even though I’ve no idea how much of it I’ve got, that had me seeking a temporary change of place. I’m not often at peace, it’s just not in my nature.  But this is close.

Ucluelet, BC. June 2, 2014

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Legend In My Own Mind.

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I love movies. It’s not that I’m the type of guy who can name the cinematographer from One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest or anything like that. I’ve never seen Citizen Kane and I didn’t really like The Godfather. Sacrilege in some movie circles, I know, but I’m not a cinema snob. I just love being entertained by a good movie.

I don’t watch awards shows, and I have no interest in celebrity gossip. I really don’t care who’s sleeping with whom in Hollywood, and don’t understand why anybody else does, either. I will admit, however, that I like hearing that somebody whose work I love is a nice person, too. For example, on the commentary track for Aliens, Bill Paxton tells a story about what a class act Sigourney Weaver is and how hard she works. I love that movie, and that somehow makes me like it a little bit more.

I do have my favorite directors, screenwriters and actors, but only because certain people consistently create or star in movies I like. There are a number of movies I’ve seen a dozen times or more, and I get something different out of them each time. A consequence of this affinity for the silver screen is that I have an uncanny knack for remembering movie quotes, and let me assure you, that’s a useless skill. Pretty sure I’ll need some bit of information that was discarded from my brain years ago, just so I could remember what Frances McDormand said to Billy Crudup in ‘Almost Famous.’

One of my favorite movies is Legends of the Fall. Not because I particularly like the story, but because I got to work on it. While it’s true that I was only an extra, I got paid well for it, and it was a lot of fun.

In 1993, I was an instructor at the Air Reserve Training School at Canadian Forces Base Penhold. It was a full-time job teaching basic training, and I enjoyed it. At the end of one summer session, my boss mentioned to us that she had heard that a major Hollywood movie was filming in Calgary and that they needed extras with military experience. Nobody else from the training school or my unit tried out, but since I had no immediate plans, and it was a paying gig, I thought it would be pretty cool.

At the time, Calgary still had fully operational military bases and the film crew was working in conjunction with the military to ensure they got the right people. I went down for the audition at one of the hangars on the base. The audition wasn’t about acting, it was just so that the production company could find out what your military experience was so they could assign you a position in this fake WWI Canadian Army.

The next weekend, there were 60 of us learning WWI foot drill on a parade square, being yelled at, marched around and basically being treated like we were all back in basic training. Since we were all reservists or regular force members, it was more entertaining than anything else. Their full intent was to run the movie WWI army like a real army WWI army.

We were given rifle training on authentic WWI Lee Enfield rifles. Mine had a stamp from 1917 on one of the metal parts. This was the main reason they wanted people with military experience, and only the 60 from the original weekend were going to be firing weapons. For those unfamiliar with weapons and firing blanks, there is usually something called a BFA (blank firing attachment) fixed to the end of the muzzle on a rifle during training exercises. Blanks can still cause serious injury at close range, and a BFA helps prevent that. During filming, however, the BFA’s were removed as the rifles had to look authentic. This meant that everyone was VERY serious about weapons safety as there was an added element of danger. Only those with weapons training were issued blank ammunition and rifles.

The following weekend, there were 700 more men, and those of us that had been trained the week before were assigned men that WE had to train in the WWI foot drill that we had just learned. Let’s just say that we weren’t ready to go on parade, but they were trying to instill at least a little bit of discipline. They divided us into companies and that’s who we were with for the entire shoot. I’m almost positive that these added guys didn’t have to have military experience, as they were only being used on the shoot for two or three days.

The week after that, we were working full-time. I stayed with a friend in Calgary for three weeks, sleeping during the day, working all night long. We had to be at one of the Calgary colleges each day by 2:00PM, where they would take us out to a location north of the city. Each morning, after shooting, they would bus us back to Calgary at 6:00AM. I never got more than 6 hours sleep those three weeks and almost no time off. That was what we had all agreed to when signing up.

Apparently they had paid a rancher for the use of three or four of his fields for the duration, and they ripped it to shreds converting it to a WWI battlefield. The first time I saw the battlefield, it was eerie. A field full of mud, burned trees, elaborate trenches, craters full of water, and barbed wire everywhere. I found out later, that they put that field back to it’s original condition after filming, and that the rancher was paid very well.

The main tent in the staging area consisted of two large connected circus tents, one full of tables and chairs like a beer tent where everybody would gather at the beginning and end of shooting and where they would put us if they had an hour or so with nothing for us to do. The other half of the tent was wardrobe and makeup and let me tell you, it was incredibly organized. They fitted each of us for authentic WWI uniforms that they got from a prop house in London. These were real WWI woolen uniforms. We were shown how to put them on, complete with puttees. It was a factory of efficiency, and everyone was incredibly professional.

They treated everyone fairly, but tolerated absolutely no screwing around, especially in the beginning. Because they were issuing working firearms, there was ample security on set and they double checked everything when it came to signing weapons in and out. The first day, about 20 of the 700 were kicked off the set for not following the rules. It wasn’t open for debate and they gave no second chances.

Each day, we’d be briefed on what was going to happen that night along with constant safety briefings. We would then march in formation, according to company, down to the battlefield. They really ran it by the book.

For those first three nights, the ‘army’ just basically ran across a muddy field, back and forth all night long. It was very well lit, but it was tough. Most of those runs were rehearsals. We were to pick our own path, know where we going to run, so that when filming began, nobody was running into each other, we all knew where we were going. We knew where the explosions were going to happen, and there were tech guys sitting in holes all over the field. From the camera side, they couldn’t be seen, but from our point of view, it was a bunch of guys in bright jackets in plain sight with control boards in front of them. Their job was to detonate the squibs (movie explosives) on the field. With 700 guys running across, these guys were pros. NOBODY was hurt by an explosive during the whole shoot, to my knowledge.

In the beginning, somebody would come up the line, I think it might have been one of the assistant directors and just start pointing at every third or fourth person before every rehearsal. “You’re dead, you’re dead, dead, dead, dead…” and this just meant that somewhere in your run, you fell down, and we were told specifically not to ACT. You just fell, and then stayed still. When they started shooting, a couple of guys were kicked off set for being ‘theatrical’ when they died, mugging for the cameras.

It was cold and rainy some of the time, but they had constructed the trenches with shelters in them that the cameras couldn’t see, and they would get us back to the circus tent to get warm regularly. Lots of coffee and tea, plenty of food for everybody, ample time to rest up for the next scene.

Once the first three days were over, that’s when the real fun began. Initially we had to go through metal detectors going through to wardrobe in our underwear and t-shirts, just so you couldn’t bring in cameras or recording devices. Anything like cigarettes, lighter, stuff like that, you could just hold in your hand so they could see it.

Interesting side note about cigarettes. They’d let the smokers smoke during filming of the daylight trench scenes to add to the authenticity, but they’d give out hand rolled cigarettes that looked like they’d been run through a washing machine and then rolled in mud. I tried one, and it was horrible.

With just the 60 of us, and the cast and crew, they slacked off on the security a little because we’d earned a certain degree of trust. They started to allow us to bring in cameras, with the understanding that they could only be used at certain times and never be pulled out during filming. While I didn’t take these photos, they were taken with permission. Unfortunately, all of these you see here are scans of small prints, and my scanner sucks. Still, you can click on any of them to see them a bit larger.

Our company went from about 50 guys down to 10 after the first three days, and we all got along really well. With no women on the set aside from crew, it was just a bunch of overgrown boys playing army in an amazing playground, and what could be more fun than that. The cast and crew were fantastic, and I don’t recall one personal bad experience the whole time.

Some memorable moments:
Brad Pitt.
The first night the actors came into the trench, everybody was a little nervous. Close quarters in the trench, so they had to squeeze between us. One guy in my company got a tap on the shoulder and when he turned around, Brad Pitt was trying to get by. He kind of stammered, “Oh excuse me, Mr. Pitt,” to which Mr. Pitt replied, “F**k off, call me Brad.”

Aidan Quinn.
One morning, when we were all getting ready to board the buses back to Calgary, the crew needed one company to stay behind to film some daylight stuff. Turned out that whoever stayed wasn’t going to get to go back to Calgary at all that day. The 10 of us were asked, and we said, ‘sure.’ We were having fun, although we were exhausted. The scene was with Aidan Quinn and he felt bad that we had to stay behind. After the scene was shot, we were told to get back to wardrobe and they’d give us a clean change of uniform, and then we could find a place to nap.

While we’re getting changed, Aidan Quinn walks in with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, carrying a flat of Labatt Genuine Draft and said, “where do you want it?” He sat and had beers with us for about an hour, posed for photos with some of the guys, and said thanks for sticking around.

No Egos
One night, had to be about two in the morning, they kept having technical trouble with something. Could have been a camera, lights, I don’t know, but it was a very cold night. They kept debating whether or not to send us back to the tent. Finally, somebody called out for runners from each company and they brought back heavy duty coffee containers to the trenches. We all had our own cups in the kit they gave us, so while they didn’t want us to leave the set, they still wanted us to be warm. This happened once in awhile, and there were strategic holes in the trenches for modern items to be hidden when shooting started, including those coffee containers.

Thinking they had the problem solved, they brought Brad Pitt and Henry Thomas into the trench, and by this time, we were fairly comfortable around them. They were nice to us, kidding around, that sort of thing. The problem, whatever it was, persisted, so they were going to pull the actors back to their trailers until it was solved. Brad Pitt said, “we got coffee, we can wait here.”

He and Henry Thomas sat and chatted with us for over an hour, answering questions, telling stories, laughing a lot, just hanging out in the cold like the rest of the guys.

Taken Care Of
One very telling experience about how well we were treated. One night, near the end of the third week, our company was running across the battlefield in some scene, explosions going off everywhere, firing our weapons, and a squib exploded very near me. I wasn’t in any danger because I knew that whoever set it off knew exactly where I was, but we had been told that if an explosion went off near us, even if we hadn’t been told to die, we were to fall down. So, myself and the guy nearest to me both collapsed, right into a crater full of water. We managed to keep our heads out of the water, as well as our rifles when we fell, but just laid there until we heard CUT. It was a good two minutes in that cold water and I was soaked. As soon as the director yelled cut, he sent in a crew to get us out of the water. They got us out of the field quick, into a van, drove us to the circus tent and into fresh dry uniforms very quickly. They gave us coffee and wouldn’t let us leave until we assured them we were warm enough to keep going. Best of all, we didn’t ruin the shot.

There are plenty of other things that happened on the set, but what I remember most is that the actors in that movie were genuinely nice guys and treated everybody with respect. The crew treated us well and on the last day of filming, the director, Edward Zwick, told us all that we had performed beyond his expectations. He said that it was like working with stunt men, not extras, which was nice to hear.

The experience of Legends of the Fall reinforced my love for movies. It didn’t make me want to be an actor. Hell, it didn’t even make me want to be an extra again, but working on that one movie just reinforced my love of the art form. It even changed how I watch movies, because sometimes I’ll see a certain camera shot in a movie, and I’ll remember that I know how they do that. It’s probably one of the reasons I enjoy Director’s Commentary on DVD’s so much, too. That’s where all the stories are told.

I’ve still got photocopies of the script and some storyboards, some photos I took and others took for me. I’ve even got some videotape that somebody from the crew sent to one of the guys in my company weeks after filming, showing unedited dailies, including some with the actors.

There are a number of scenes that I can pick myself out in the movie, just because I recognize myself or guys in my company. But for the most part, there’s only one place you can definitely see me in the movie, and that’s this one below, that I copied from a YouTube clip. I haven’t seen it in awhile. When I showed it to my wife, she said, “you look like a baby!” It was, after all, 18 years ago.

Incidentally, this was a breakfast scene in the WWI camp, filmed at sunset. We were told that Brad Pitt’s character Tristan was riding into camp with scalps around his neck, and we were supposed to part the way. They wanted us to look shocked at what we were seeing but not to exaggerate it too much. While Brad Pitt did come through on the horse and we did get to see that, what we’re actually looking at in this photo is an ATV coming through with a camera on it.

If you’d like to see the actual clip, here’s a link to one somebody posted on YouTube. You can see me on the left of the screen from 2:56-3:00.

I’d like to work in movies again someday, but in an artistic capacity, maybe as a digital painter or a character designer. But for now, I’m happy with the memory that I got to do it once, and it was great. If you ever get the chance to be an extra in a movie, paid or otherwise, I would advise you to do it, just for the fun of it. It really was one of the best experiences of my life.

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The Week After


My wife and I gave up celebrating Christmas a number of years ago. After years of working in the tourism industry, the holiday became something we dreaded, not looked forward to. One of the hardest things new staff in this area have to get used to is that you do not get Christmas off to go home and visit your family. This valley is run on tourism, so all of the hotel rooms are full of people coming to the mountains with their families. Those hotels, restaurants, and ski hills need to be staffed. Unfortunately, few of these families seem to be having a stress-free vacation and that usually lands on the staff as well.

While neither of us work in that sort of job anymore, we never reignited the ‘Christmas spirit’. Our home looks the same on Christmas Day as it does in the middle of July. We don’t decorate, exchange gifts, or do anything remotely Christmas related, aside from attend a couple of parties. And really, it’s just because we enjoy seeing friends, although this year, neither of us were much in the mood for that, either.

A few years ago, we convinced our parents not to give us any presents, so there is no swapping of the gift cards or cash, or blowing our budget on things none of us need. For a couple of years there, it was almost like putting in an order…tell me what you want, and I’ll go buy it. We don’t have children, so Santa doesn’t need to come to visit, anymore.

This year, we did go home to Red Deer for the weekend, and it was nice and quiet. Friday with my wife’s family, Saturday with my folks, then home Sunday afternoon. A couple of nice dinners, but very quiet and relaxing, and no gifts exchanged. Played a few games, had a few laughs, and enjoyed each others’ company.

While I wouldn’t try to convince anyone else to give up Christmas, especially if they have children, it is definitely time for a lot of people to put on the brakes. Whether it’s for the obvious religious reasons or simply for spending time with family, each person should figure out what exactly it is that they’re celebrating.

I’ve watched in disbelief these past couple of weeks as every single day, there was at least one segment on the news about our current debt crisis, how people are living beyond their means with massive credit card and household debt, and advice from experts on how to curb holiday spending. All the while, many retailers are reporting record sales at the malls and online. The same will happen this week, no doubt, as big ticket items (and everything else) are on sale. Remember when Boxing Day was just a day? Now it’s a week. Judging from the footage we see on the news each year, people aren’t thinking about their fellow man when they’re pushing and shoving and rushing those doors to get 20% off a 3D TV.

Sure, you can call me Scrooge or Grinch, and you’d be accurate. While many people talk a good game about the holiday spirit and the true meaning of Christmas, there seems to be less and less evidence of it with each passing year. We keep buying more and more stuff trying to make ourselves happy, and when it doesn’t work, we just buy even more stuff. It’s the same reason a cocaine addict needs to keep taking more and more of the drug and never manages to get back to the initial high.

It’s as if everyone has gone mad and forgotten the lessons we were supposed to have learned the past couple of years from a near-depression economy. But it’s Christmas, and nobody wants to hear it, even though the ‘Ghost of Christmas Past’ credit card bills will show up soon enough.

I sincerely hope everyone had a good Christmas, and that it was free from pain or tragedy. But now that it’s over, ask yourself what you didn’t like about it, remind yourself throughout the year that YOU control your holiday, not the media, and not Big Box retailers. If you want to cut back next year, tell your family about it in July, before anybody has bought anything. Warn them that you won’t be buying as many gifts and ask them to do the same. And if you’re met with anger over the mere suggestion of it, that should be your first clue that something is seriously wrong.

If you really believe in the ‘true’ meaning of Christmas, whatever that may mean to you, put your money where your mouth is.

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A Weekend Pass.


The next few weeks are going to be very busy, as I have a lot on my plate, so I took the weekend off to recharge the batteries. No email, no Blackberry, no work.

A buddy and I headed out to a friend’s cabin in Golden, BC on Friday morning, and I think that it was just what I needed to make it through the rest of the year. With no electricity, no phone, and no running water, the cabin is one step removed from camping, and a perfect retreat. A bit of a hike to haul in the gear, but it’s worth it.

I’ve been going to the cabin for over 13 years now, and it is one of my favorite places to unwind. I’m very thankful for our generous friends who allow a few of us the privilege of using it whenever we want to.

With a fire roaring in the wood stove, plenty of food and drink, I spent most of the day Saturday reading a book, which is a luxury I don’t often allow myself these days. I’ve been wanting to read Outlook reporter Rob Alexander’s book, The History of Canmore and as I really enjoy learning about this area, I couldn’t put it down. I found myself looking at Canmore with different eyes when I got back into town this afternoon, wondering what the early settlers would think of what we’ve built upon their foundation.

Beautiful drive home today through the mountains, and already back to work sketching this evening, but I’m in much better spirits than I have been in the past month, and feel a little better about the heavy workload I’ve got that will take me into the New Year.