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The Fruits of my Labour...

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Blog

Published: 22 October 2025

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This, above, and it sat on the counter for a week before I even considered eating it. 

1 Carolina Reaper (harvested as the plenteous bounty from 3 Carolina Reaper plants), approximately 1 inch long.

Supposedly the spiciest pepper on earth.

I have a few others, all a quarter of an inch or less, smaller than a large blueberry, and doubtless there are more hiding in the canopy of dying leaves, waiting on sunlight that will never come...

So I took it to work and shared it out, not certain if it would live up to it's hype, slice it very thinly and offer it to staff, the owner, who - disregarding my caution slices it even smaller and gives it a nibble...

And, yes. It's all that. Those videos of imbeciles trying to eat one whole on YouTube and then afterwards checking themselves in to the hospital, that's a hard yes. Even the sliver, the morsel, cutting it waters the eyes, turns up the heat, starts the heart a pounding, and - damn, how do I get these plants to produce more? I mean, there's a gold-mine here, no other hot chilli comes even close...

The sushi-chef, from Nepal, tries it, is of the same mind, but then is asking me "Where do I buy more???", and tells me that this was a thing in Nepal, and why not? They have the climate, here, all my loving has gotten me only this single chilli, if I had a greenhouse there could be more, maybe I need a grow-light - definitely I need a grow light, although I'm more than half-done nursing these mother-fucking plants but...

It is one-hell of a payoff...

Notes on David Thompson's Narrative

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Books

Published: 19 October 2025

Hits: 139

Now, I've already given a fair review of the first 100 pages, and the rest didn't disappoint. All 800+ pages of it.

My Takeaways:

• The fate of the tame Polar Bear (got too big, got too drunk, and ended by getting shot)
• Notes from the natives (Esquimaux) on how to walk past Polar Bears unmolested (and the idea that Man, time out of mind, has been lord and master and these creatures are not regarding us as prey, rather they're looking to protect themselves/their dinner or their young.)
• He reports upon the fauna (and a lesser extent the flora) with the eye of a naturalist, describing their environments, the habits, migrations, diets, etc of each.
• His meeting with both Alexander McKenzie & John Franklin (That Franklin!!) 
• Tyrell's follow up his footsteps in the late 19th/early 20th century - taking pictures of himself in the ruins of old Forts and Fur Houses (and 1 could plan a fine vacation in his footsteps, not forgetting to bring along one's metal detector...)
• His extensive notes upon the Indian Nations and tribes that he meets, including his notes upon their myths, beliefs, in their universal belief in the immortality of the soul (and reluctance to discuss with White Men), the treatment of the Indians by the Hudson's Bay/North West Company, and their treatment of them (by and large overwhelmingly hospitable)
• Inexplicable events, a meteor that crashes near to him but leaves no evidence, will-o-the-wisps or ball lightening, meteoric activity that he believes predicts a gale, the sound of the Northern Lights....
• the Rations, per man, accounted at 5 pounds of meat or 8 pounds of fish, per day (!!!!)
• Describing a tribe that has become self-deluded with a new religious fad, the elders, men of wisdom and chiefs and warriors generally let it pass as a fashionable idiocy, and it does within a couple of years, the sexual customs of the various tribes, only some of which he approves, their morals, manners, customs, agricultural, the hunting tribes, the myths he tells in their own voice, of the Whetigo or Wendigo, and real examples he was familiar with, and how one who insisted he was becoming was executed by his own father, the very real fear of having to kill your relatives to survive a starving winter, become it's own mental illness (how are illnesses are defined by the cultures we come from)
• The torments of mosquitos, black flies, horse flies, no-see-ums, etc; and how he regards lands we've already turned to pasture and the plough as to be forever uninhabitable
• The former abundance of Sturgeon, in every river...
• 1798 the migrations of the eastern Indians, the Iroquois & Metis, to hunt beaver in other territories not denuded of them. These were called "Free Hunters" that having extirpated the game in the East  find that trespassing on other tribal lands to hunt and trade and cheating the resident tribes of their territorial bounty almost invariably resulted in death.
• 1910 - Tyrell’s inventory of Wildlife, all described as “Formerly common”, everything even by then had been lost, the bison, white tailed deer, bear, etc. etc. And note as well, that the mountains even here once held antelope and Bison (and Thompson has abundant accounts of hunting them in the interior, all now extinct).
• And the size of trees, nonesuch existing today.
• 1781 - On the heels of smallpox, 3/5 of the Indians were killed or succumbed to it, entire tents filled with the dead and dying, being predated by dogs and wolves, which coincided with the demise of game, Bison, Deer, Moose,  fowl, the Natives explaining as they were placed there for man, and as man was no longer they vanished in proportion - an interesting idea - this all between the Bow and the Highwood rivers, and a first hand account of a war party that came upon a camp where the Bow joins the Saskatchewan (I've been there, camping), strangely deserted, horses grazing, dogs running between tents, no signs of life, going to investigate they discover the tents filled with the stench of the dead and dying; and this was how they contracted the smallpox...
• Relaying accounts from an elder he stayed with one winter, accounts of war, tradition, etc, going all the way back to 1730…his reaction to seeing the first horse, “Big Dogs” they called them, another animal in the service of man.
• 1 Chief's speech following the Smallpox on how it has humbled them and changed the nature of war:                                 "We were fond of War, even our Women flattered us to war, and nothing was thought of but scalps for singing and dancing. Now think of what has happened to us all, by destroying each other and doing the work of the bad spirit ; the Great Spirit became angry with our making the ground red with blood : he called to the Bad Spirit to punish and destroy us, but in doing so not to let one spot of the ground, to be red with blood, and the Bad Spirit did it as we all know. Now we must revenge the death of our people and make the Snake Indians feel the effects of our guns, and other weapons ; but the young women must all be saved, and if any has a babe at the breast it must not be taken from her, nor hurt ; all the Boys and Lads that have no weapons must not be killed, but brought to our camps, and be adopted amongst us, to be our people, and make us more numerous and stronger than we are. Thus the Great Spirit will see that when we make war we kill only those who are dangerous to us, and make no more ground red with blood than we can help, and the Bad Spirit will have no more power on us."
• He devotes chapters to each tribe - for example the Peegans, Blackfeet, & Blood Indians, united by Language and part of the Sioux confederacy,
• Wild horses roaming the wilderness descended from the ones brought by the Spanish
• When south of the Canadian border relates an Indian account of a skirmish with a party of Spaniards & a fair description of the silver bars they threw from their bags. This lends credit to other rumours - of the Spanish Mound, and the Spanish Workings around Pitt Lake & Meadows
• Ancestral memories of the Mammoth, near the headwaters of the Athabasca, the natives claim it’s existence but none have seen one, although Thompson notes some inexplicable giant tracks that no-one is inclined to follow (memories, of pre-glaciation? Or of something frozen in a glacier and released thawing to marvelling eyes?)
• Traders trafficking in items of war, then being threatened - Peegan indians would not allow them to cross the mountains to similarly trade with and arm the Kootenai, this is the entire history of British Colonization, From Africa to North America...
• Trade goods, Hudson’s Bay Axe’s & iron arrowheads & spearpoints (branded, no less), musket balls, things you wouldn't think to find but all were traded and used in these very environs. Where's my metal detector?
• His somewhat droll observation/favourably observation, made repeatedly about tribes he likes:  “Clean as people can be without soap”...
• And, curiously, in the entire volume he never once mentions his wife & children. 

Anyways, I could go on, but if you're interested you can read him online here: https://archive.org/details/davidthompsonsna12thom/mode/2up

Days Off, Thanksgiving, Creston, Etc

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Written by: Rod Boyle

Category: Blog

Published: 17 October 2025

Hits: 167

An unexpected Thanksgiving off, and I was greatly appreciative. The owners of the restaurant probably realized that holidays aren't worth the overtime, and they're right, and - bloody hell, I'm all in for the holidays.

So I planned to hit up the soup kitchen, which does a free Thanksgiving dinner that is (hugely) well attended, and then I thought better and took friend for dinner.

Here, there's no end of people here you can take for dinner. It's that sort of town.

And friend, well, I mean, I'm pretty tough to deal with, she's a longstanding ex, but she's always kept the sofa made up for me, always fed me, stopped stocking the Vodka (because that was an EXPENSE!!!), but - know who your friends are.

SO an overpriced dinner at the fanciest place in town, which - look at their menu - isn't that fancy, but they've done great with the decor.

***

Tuesday, my double, bloody hell, a midday rush (3:00 - 5:00), otherwise a slow spiritual suicide. The murder of innocent days.

***

Wednesday, supposedly off, but I get the text "... is sick" and as I had Thanksgiving off I can't argue the fact. Work. Dismal. After work, check the thrift shop (Positive Apparel) and find nothing, it's furniture equivalent, nada, then get groceries. Lots. Enough for a week. Hit "Dollarama" in a quest for cinnamon to quell the mould on the chilis and a 2" paint roller, find both (or close enough) - and a few other trifles that I didn't think to write down but found nonetheless. Success!

The Chilis? Glad you asked. One of the three has produced a 1 inch gonad that overnight turned red, as well as two smaller gonads that also turned red. So I will have some (?? How many is some? 3-4) of the spiciest peppers on earth, only I haven't tried them yet and need to bring them into work and have them thinly sliced and delivered for assay...

After that another trip, this time to the Coop, some more ephemeral supplies, and I run into B*****, in his special "walking uniform" which would mask as an exercise uniform if it weren't for...

And he paces me back to the building, he's in need of a cigarette, is restless, the divorce, not going so well (?? do they ever ??), the children, the ...

We're done the cigarettes when he takes the hint and fucks off, my place, it's a studio, it's not for entertaining, I spell it out...

I hate that it's that way, but - You know, not changing a lifetime of habit or preference for a random...and really, it's not just gender bias, if you saw my place you'd know it wasn't for entertaining.

***

Today, Thursday, still a couple sheets to the wind. Off to Creston, where I'd offered the choice to Thanksgiving friend (hotsprings, Creston) and the die was cast.

First, Gleaners. Nada. I've never seen so much shit I didn't want or need in my life. Or - wait - I have seen, every Friday volunteering at the thrift shop...

Maybe I could have broken down, bought a few canvases for restretching and art projects but - nope, nope, it's too overwhelming....and I have enough on my plate to keep me busy until the end of my life...

***

Then the Iode, lucky chance that it's open, but again Nada. From here to the bookstore - Kingfisher, a great old/collectable bookstore, only I have a list, a hundred books stacked by my computer, and they have nothing that's on my list.

I spend a little extra time, discover the basement, where "Science/Math" are grouped together and ... is misspelt, this gives me hope....I find a copy of Isaac Newton's "The Principia" in translation (Why? Because he wrote it in Latin, Dummy!!!!) this is my find of the day, My only find. 

From here to lunch, friend has supplied her recommendation. It's a nondescript shit-hole on the intersection of the highway and the main street. 

***

I fucking have to kill her. It's in a restaurant/gift shop, at the end of one of the busier streets, the intersection. The "Gift" portion of the shop comprises mostly just rocks/gems/minerals/new-age/greeting cards and CNC wood plaques epitomizing dumb-ass twee sentiments about home. there's just room enough for a half dozen tables.

The menu, dismal, we decide on a couple of burritos. I go and pay. With drinks (Diet Coke and H20) it comes to $50.00.

Wait. Wait. Wait for the food. 

When it arrives it's as if you described the theory of a burrito to an alien; who understanding nothing of burritos, of earth, of what you mean by "beans" and "rice" and "fresh vegetables" and with what limited comprehension it has tries to make you a meal from home-grown off-world ingredients. I paid $50.00 for this. Every mouthful of disgust, and I have to eat it, the most expensive remorse or disgust you can buy; it's beyond appalling, the diet coke can't wash the retching out of my throat, and still I force myself. I'm glad to see my friend is finding it no more savoury than I but is forcing herself to "chow down" as well. For a side they've "lovingly" piled three fingers worth of tortilla crumbs (the bottom of the bag, clearly, not a whole chip amongst them), and the condiments comprise a small dish of "Pace" brand salsa and home-soured cream.

The most fucking disgusting meal of my life.

***

Still retching from the aftermath and the bile rising in my throat and not just a little bit annoyed at friend (I did suggest McDonalds, the poor-choice of fools but Michelin Starred next to that abomination), we make our way to the High street jewellers, look at his selection of used vintage watches (he has better, in the back room, but I haven't the budget after spending $50.00 on garbage and $70.00 on gas and so I resist the temptation...) and querying him find that he is able to repair old watches. This is good, I need a local watch guy, and I've grown tired of handing them off to the jewellers in town at $300.00 a pop only to find after 6-8 weeks they can't fix them...

From here to the next stop - Beacon bookstore, a vintage/used/curated bookstore right on the high street. And - again, an amazing selection of vintage/antique books, many great titles, and I never knew it was here...

Who would have guessed Creston would prove to have so much to my taste?

I mean, other than food... 

This ends the day. The rest of it trying to get the flavour of the world's worst burrito out of my mouth, multiple rinses with soda, diet coke, vodka, just not doing it but an explosion earlier this afternoon might just have seen the last of it, god knows it tasted better...