The Badlands

I must have been around three.

Or perhaps four.

At any rate, it was an age when memories start to stick and experiences shape the person you will eventually become. I was in my maternal grandparent’s basement. My mom was deep in conversation au Francais with my grandmother and I tried to distract myself by exploring the space as I waited for them to finish. There wasn’t much; an older, multi-unit dwelling, its basement was unfinished for the most part save a washer/dryer and a cracked concrete floor that I remember being cold on my feet. The lack of decor in the basement was actually in stark contrast to the rest of their technicolour home where I distinctly remember a forest green living room, Peptol-Bismol pink bathroom, and baby blue bedroom. Everything was completely colour-coordinated to precision with matching carpet, furniture and accessories.

But there was one thing I found in the basement that caught my attention: a miniature toy dinosaur.

I was riveted. At the time, no one had told me what a dinosaur was. I don’t even think I’d ever seen a picture of one. I took the small toy with me, constructing adventures in my head on the bus ride home about what it was and where it came from. I probably didn’t stop talking about it as my parent’s eventually got me more toys and some books about cretaceous creatures—I even remember my first one purchased at Woolco, which I’ve kept all these years. I’ve been fascinated ever since.

As he always did, my father cultivated my interests by introducing me to one of the best places to learn about dinosaurs in the world: Drumheller, Alberta, home of the badlands and world-renowned Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, which I visited this week … taking me back to those childhood days full of wonder and curiosity.

Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Black Beauty, one of the most perfect skeletons of a tyrannosaurus-rex ever discovered, on display at Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Black Beauty, Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

The evolution of the chasmosaurines, Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Diorama of a wooly mammoth being attacked by sabre-toothed tigers, Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology, Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague).

Badlands near Drumheller, Alberta (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Badlands (©2022, Deborah Clague)

Andrew Farms grain tower, a relic on the prairies (©2022, Deborah Clague)

City of Glass

Right after returning home from Paris, I had work-related travel in another one of my favourite cities – Vancouver. There are a few places I have visited in my life that have left an indelible mark on my being and this city of glass on the Pacific Northwest coast is one of them. I recall a visit with my father in my early twenties in which I cried on the journey home as I sooooooo wanted to stay there. Vancouver had a sheen that my hometown did not; it seemed so cosmopolitan. The type of place I imagined shit happened. The good shit. The type of place where one could leave a mark that would have impact. Perhaps that was the time to make the leap; Vancouver has only gotten more unaffordable in time. And the older I get, and the more my world shrinks, I realize that one can make an impact from anywhere. Even my hometown of Winnipeg. Even cities that are smaller (such as where I live now). I extended my deployment by a few days though to have time to explore and see if the magic was still there.

Sigh. It was.

But only with conditions.

These conditions include a downtown condo with wraparound windows and a view as good—or better—as the one I had from my hotel room on the twenty-first floor of the Four Seasons. As I worked at my desk, I would sneak glances at the people below, tiny as ants, scurrying down West Georgia and Howe picking up food at the trucks and stalls that lined the streets before they, too, returned to their offices and got down to whatever business runs this town. There was also the occasional car race, typically between two luxury sports vehicles painted in crass colours that only the very, very wealthy would purchase because they have money to waste and can be trendy rather than strategic with consumption. Think bright baby blue Lamborghinis and neon green Ferraris. The roaring of their engines woke me up during the night.

And right before the night was the greatest view of all, as dusk settled over the mountains and the water was highlighted by the setting sun. I’d retire to my room around this time to enjoy this sight with a cup of tea. But also, if I’m honest, for safety; I was, again, traveling alone and on one early night while approaching my hotel I was told by a man clearly struggling with drug addiction that he wanted to “smash my face” until my “face was smashed”. So another condition of living in Vancouver might have to be willful ignorance of the challenges it faces.

Beyond the view and despite my encounter, I appreciated downtown Vancouver because I could walk nearly everywhere (or get there relatively quickly via transit). One day I trekked to Granville Island and its famous market, later chancing upon a dog beach in Kitsilano that I need to take my Monty to someday. On my other free day I hiked all through Stanley Park, one of the most beautiful urban greenspaces in North America. All this walking then helped me justify eating at Cartems, thus launching my summer of donuts™ which has also been memorable. I’m not sure living in the ‘burbs, or further out in Burnaby or Abbotsford, would make the experience of living here as great as I experienced or imagine though. I feel that magic would get lost amidst the commute and rampant big box stores that seem to be cloned in every civic area. Therefore the greatest condition, it seems, to living here is a six-figure salary to afford my vision. Or a lottery win. I don’t need neon green Ferrari money but just enough to live an ordinary life in an extraordinary place.

Although, living an extraordinary life in an ordinary place now doesn’t seem so bad.

View from the 21st floor, Four Seasons Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Bees at Work, Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

View from the 21st floor, Four Seasons Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

I love this city, Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

The DOG BEACH, Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Granville Island Public Market, Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

I would really like to live in this building, so please donate to my GoFundMe, Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Vancouver skyline (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Stanley Park, Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Trekking under the Lion’s Gate Bridge, Stanley Park, Vancouver (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Canadiana: The North

I’ve always been captivated by the majestic beauty of Canada’s north. With skies that appear to dance to the rhythm of one’s heartbeat and glaciers that run as high as they do deep, it is a place of otherworldly landscape.

I am so proud to call this country home.

Prints and other merchandise available at society6.com/oblada.

Up North, Dawn version (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Up North, Night version (©Deborah Clague, 2019).

Now

It was all too brief, but Banff National Park always delivers a memorable holiday: 

Hiking near Bow Falls with the iconic Banff Springs Hotel in the background.

Bow Falls

Enjoying the view while driving the Columbia Icefields Parkway. 

Hiking up to Athabasca Glacier.

Inukshuk near the edge of Athabasca Glacier.

Adding a stone, making a wish.

Despite sweating in the heat earlier in the day, I was absolutely frozen at the top of Athabasca Glacier. 

Hiking a beautiful valley in Jasper National Park.

These guys stopped traffic.

Dining at Seoul South Korean Restaurant in Banff. He asked for "as spicy as you can possibly make it ... and then make it spicier". No heart attacks or other health issues reported, thankfully. 

Hiking the jurassic landscape at Horseshoe Canyon near Drumheller, Alberta. 

Roar! The World's Largest Dinosaur primed to attack. 

What kid – and kid at heart – wouldn't love visiting a town with giant dinosaur statues near every intersection? I love it! 

Then ...

I feel like every Canadian has albums full of photos showcasing the passage of time while on summer vacation in the Rockies:  

The Wonder Years

When I was twelve I said "goodbye" to Parc La Salle elementary school, where I had much developmental growth from kindergarten to grade six, and entered St. Norbert Collegiate. This institution incorporated the spectrum of learning from junior high all the way up to senior year of graduation. Twelve year olds to those legally permitted to drink. It was, of course, not an entirely academic education. As I've always been a very observant, intuitive person, I learned a lot about life early on. 

The school bus stop was across the street from my house and in this transitionary year, I recall being early every morning and watching as my fellow older classmates would arrive disinterested, dishevelled and often late. It seemed school went from being a fun social hub to the bane of our kindred existence (it took me to the age of fourteen to get to this mindset). There was a former best friend, K, who went out of her way to ignore me. She was a few years older than I and we were playmates in our younger years, my Barbie collection being the envy of the neighbourhood after all. Right now though, I was a junior and she had her own tribe. Being friends with me would be akin to babysitting. Just one look at our sharply contrasted appearance – me with clean pressed tucked-in shirts and her modelling various Metallica tees cooly draped over torn jeans – was all the reason needed why it would never work. 

There was another older girl, M, that befriended me though. She was new to the area and probably sensed that we could be losers together. I recall attending my first after-hours dance with her. I was so excited to have graduated from mimicking Janet Jackson's moves in my parent's basement to now getting to show them off to others. I ensured my outfit was perfect; a white body suit with red Guess jeans that I saved up multiple allowances to purchase. At this age – let me remind you that I was twelve – I was not interested in sexualizing myself. I didn't know how. I was simply desperate to be seen as "cool" to a group of peers and I knew that somehow involved designer jeans and the ability to sip Orange Crush like a mimosa. After dancing to the "Humpty Dance" (the lyrics of which I didn't understand), I was flattered and admittedly surprised when my new friend told me that a number of guys from her grade wanted to meet me. I very (very) shyly obliged foolishly thinking that they had heard about my high grade point average and were not simply mesmerized by the fact that my white bodysuit top had become see-through in the lighting of the dance hall and that my braless non-existent breasts were on full display. No, I learned that later. For that evening though, I was simply happy to be popular. Even K noticed the shift in high school hierarchy.

At the bus stop, I also remember observing young love. There was a boy, D, who lived the next Bay over. Outside of our morning commute, I only knew him as one of the dudes who would play street hockey in our shared backlane. He represented middle-class Canadiana right down to the hoser haircut. While his girlfriend didn't live anywhere near this particular bus stop, she would put forth the effort each morning to meet him there so that they could ride together. Her background was very different. She had come from a broken home and was weaving her way through the foster system. I knew of a number of these students. They seemed to emerge and then dissipate with little notice. I always imagined how difficult it would be to live such a transient existence during a period of life where stability is so precious. Despite this couple's differences though, they had found something. I remember how he looked at her, that deep gaze of appreciation and wonder that I always longed to feel myself because in adolescence, getting a boy to like you is profound. The pair formed a template (and expectation) for what I would desire as my teenage years evolved. 

And so it was a bit shocking, at the time, when they broke up. I was never certain of the reasons. They were probably silly and it was probably dramatic but as they went their separate ways, I observed that D seemed depressed. His demeanour a bit more sullen. His eyes a little less full of radiance. I learned the end of love and its subsequent heartache would not be pleasant. 

I never did see her in person again. 

A few years later, her picture would be on every newspaper cover and featured on every newscast. She was murdered by an acquaintance she had met; her body discovered in a forested region of eastern Manitoba. I recognized her visage immediately. Her teenage features now frozen in time, an early lesson on the darkness and unjust nature of life. 

Summer in Manitoba (Part II)

My best friend likes to wake me up by sitting on my face. I gasp, choking for air, and this reaction causes him to move over and stare at me intently. Where words are not possible, he uses his big brown eyes to beg and plead. Shame on me that I love him so much, I let him get away with it even though it's 6:00am and I am on vacation desperately wanting to sleep in long enough to just wake up when Price is Right is on. Sigh. 

I always thought any slumber-related demise for me would be an accidental overdose of sleeping pills but this has made me realize it may end up a result of involuntary manslaughter on his part. 

He cute though. 

There are so many great areas to unwind in or around Winnipeg that I don't totally mind the early morning wake-up call by a 20lb pooch desperate to explore all the new sights and smells outside. It gives me some much needed exercise (as well as an excuse to later indulge in an afternoon nap).

My absolute favourite place near Winnipeg is La Barriere, a 323 acre park a very short distance from my mother's house. Its forest trails hug the snaking La Salle River and I've always marvelled at how tranquil it is. I don't think I've ever seen more than three other vehicles parked when I've visited, although the assumption of solitude may be misleading at times. I, uhm, do have a story about ... er, stumbling upon two individuals ... erm ... 

It's also a great place for birdwatching. 

Another great spot to reconvene with nature is Assiniboine Forest/Assiniboine Park, which at 700 acres makes up one of the largest urban forest areas in North America. This was the first place I took the dogs while visiting my hometown. We explored for hours. And after Reggie dived into the pond (nearly dragging me with him), I ended up cleaning my new car for hours. His personality is vastly different than Monty's. Where Monty is a happy-go-lucky lapdog constantly trailing my shadow, Reggie is the most stubborn, indifferent canine I've ever known.

I'm so proud. I've taught him well. 

I'm very partial to the south-end of the city, as that is where I was raised. St. Norbert is a historic, bilingual neighbourhood that lands just on the periphery of the city proper. Within walking distance of my mother's home is Trappiste Monastery Provincial Park wherein lies the burned architectural ruins of Trappiste Monastery founded in 1892. I remember skipping school as a teen and spending the afternoons here with my friends, watching the clouds pass by and dreaming about what our future selves would become. As an adult, I now walk the dogs there to ponder that exact same thing. 

To discover more great reasons to visit Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada click here or here. 

Summer in Manitoba

Manitoba's Interlake region is a geographic corridor between Lake Winnipeg and Lake Manitoba in which a number of historic and scenic sights are located for tourist exploration. While on a recent visit to my home province, a good friend and I took advantage of the beautiful weather and embarked on a day trip to visit some of those hotspots. It started with a legendary hot dog and ended with an eerie, allegedly haunted church. 

Skinner's is a Manitoba institution and welcomes visitors at the gateway to the Interlake. I can attest to the fact that their hot dogs are delicious but the ice cream is also worth the drive as well. 

Lower Fort Garry is a National Historic Site built in 1830 by the Hudson's Bay Company. In addition to being a centre of commerce and trade, it was also the location in which Treaty No. 1 was established between the federal government and seven First Nations chiefs marking the birth of modern Manitoba. 

During the summer, actors recreate life as it would have been during colonial times. 

Gimli is one of the most beautiful towns in Manitoba. Situated on Lake Winnipeg in the heart of the Interlake, Gimli was traditionally settled by Icelandic immigrants, of which the culture and language is still maintained today. 

The "haunted" St. Andrews Church. My father shared a story of this place on several occasions, the details of which never altered. Either he had a really good memory for random tall tales he scared his kid with or there is something more to the church's legend. 

Update:

Photo galleries have been updated with new images from my latest excursion to Western Canada. Explore here.