Category Archives: Stories from the ditch

Once upon a time, in the fair and sunny kingdom of Golden, British Columbia, there was a reporter. In all the kingdom, no other reporter rode to war so galantly, nor yet so speedily. Yea, neither could the very Mounted … Continue reading →

Even the rudest oncoming drivers become so much more polite when you flirt with the centre line. Ignore it and they become downright saintly.

In such a slow town as Fort Nelson, we’re always waiting eagerly for a chance to bring our nurse friends a really gory trauma case. Kind of like cats bringing home small animals for their owners. They always say they’d … Continue reading →

First they gave me a month’s notice to move out of my room in the basement without giving a reason. Now they’re talking about banning smoking outside the station. But what really astonishes me is that they’ve been able to … Continue reading →

Here are a couple of misheard phrases that make me think that perhaps I’ve been flying a few too many times in that noisy plane of ours. Or maybe just spent too many hours in close company with a jackhammer … Continue reading →

The last couple of days, that is. Starting with yesterday morning, when we got to do three medication protocols in five hours. Today we had another very interesting medical call, (can’t tell you or I’d have to kill you), the … Continue reading →

Since we got our new high-vis (read blinding autoluminescent lime yellow) vests, all set about with reflective tape, I’ve noticed three things: 1. I feel like I must know what I’m doing. 2. No one in the vests has been … Continue reading →

This morning we went on a fire standby at one of the mills a couple of hours before shift change. At eight, dispatch called: “858 Foxtrot, I’ll just page out the day crew to come out and relieve you.” Us: … Continue reading →