Told you so.......

Been hitting the keyboard non-stop for the past day or so, so missed the first real weakening in the media AGW assertions now that measurements confirming that a world wide cooling is happening. Not that anyone with half a brain took the AGW alarmists wildest assertions seriously. Not that this is going to be a permanent feature, just another wave in the climate cycle. No heat death of the Universe, no new 'Ice age', just the usual SSDD.

There are more serious blogs that know how to play with the facts and figures to reach a meaningful conclusion. Anthony Watts thoughtful posts about temperature comparisons for example, are always worth checking out. Over at Climate-Skeptic the emphasis is on correcting errors in evidence evaluation, although having looked at Realclimate.net I was interested to note that their site is owned by an organisation with vested interests in pushing their version of the 'truth' about what's happening with the climate.

A look at where some of the 'green' activists get their funding turned out to be enlightening. Activists Cash being a site run by the Center for Consumer freedom. The only problem is that there isn't much to choose behind either side as they are both camps appear to be funded by some highly intriguing interests and have their own pretty entrenched ideas about the 'truth'.

Me, I just look at trends and make historical comparisons against what gets reported in the media. I've also a moderate grasp of basic physics and spend a lot of time researching for stories, which turns up all sorts of things that don't get into the papers. Sorting the wheat from the chaff, that sort of thing. I like to think I have a modicom of ability in this area.

Now even the Mainstream Media are starting to take the 'Look, there isn't going to be a disaster' side of the argument seriously. Although the cynic in me knows that next thing all the pundits will be on the 'OMIGOD! We're all going to freeze to death!' tack and we'll have to pay extra taxes to stop that happening. I'd get depressed at the stupidity of it all, only I'm too damn busy.

The sound of chainsaws

It is a strange thing to contemplate, but this seems to be where destiny, fate, karma, whatever has brought me, yet for all this strange newness, I feel right at home. My inner comfort factor is at an all time high.

Despite the fact that I have never learned to use one, I find the sound of chainsaws comforting. As a child we lived next door to a large area of marshy woodland which was being cleared and felled to build one of the 1960's 'new towns'. From age three, I remember weekend family walks to the background noise of chainsaws and the groans and crashes of falling timber. I took my afternoon baby naps accompanied to the sharp lullaby of ripping whines and splintering crashes as tree after tree was cut down to make room for new housing. To me the sound is comforting. It feels like I belong.

Day off

Nice day yesterday. Took the ten minute ferry ride over to Protection Island and had a very pleasant late lunch at the Dinghy Dock pub. Walked it off wandering round the island, and looking at all the different houses lurking amongst the trees. There's a very off beat vibe, Island residents mostly get about the gravel roads on golf carts which they use as runabouts. One even had his own sea plane, with an ingenious launch vehicle. Notwithstanding all the place names being on a pirate theme, various road names being Pirates Lane, Cutlass Lookout, Captain Kidds Terrace etc. No doubt this was all the brainchild of Nanaimos eccentric Mayor Frank James Ney (A.K.A. 'Black Frank') who was also credited with being a prime promoter of the Nanaimo to Vancouver Bathtub race. We missed last years race, but hope to follow it in 2008. Frank, an ex pilot, died in 1992. I think I would have liked him. The world is a poorer place without people of his character.

Wife was bowled over by the log built homes we saw there (She's always wanted one) and vouchsafed "Promise me Jones, when we build our house, it's got to have a sea view."
"I'm good with that." I replied, but then I can be good at giving out promises when I haven't a clue how I'll deliver. All I know is that the promise will be delivered, though hell itself should bar the way. I'm like that. I haven't failed yet. Nor will I.

Hmm

Taking a look at the latest images from the SOHO solar observatory. Still no sunspots. This is not exactly good news for those who enjoy sunbathing. Cycle 24 is very late. Significantly so.

It is a well accepted principle that Earth's climate closely follows the sunspots. Lots of sunspots mean lots of flare activity and more radiant heat hitting the Earth. A 'quiet' sun means less flare activity, and thus less energy being pumped out towards our home world. It gets cooler. The lowered solar activity being mainly responsible for the rather chilly winter we're still experiencing up here on Vancouver Island.

Now this doesn't mean there's going to be another ice age. The Earth would have to cool quite a bit for that to happen, and that will take a century or so. Glaciers will not be rolling down our Streets any time soon, no matter what any prophets of doom in the media might say. They're only out to sell column inches anyway.

My best guess is that we're due a cooling like in the 1940's and 1950's. Maybe even as long as thirty or so years. If the cyclic nature of the climate holds true, then we should be investing in new energy sources and intensive agriculture to make good the inevitable shortfalls. House design standards will have to be improved with better insulation and more efficient heating. Over here, if things do get significantly colder, we might be looking at snow tyres year round.

For myself, I think investment in cold weather clothing suppliers might be a good idea. Perhaps a four wheel drive with snow tyres. No need to panic, just adapt a little.

Inconveniently speaking

The news going round the blogs and right of centre news is causing a number of guffaws. A sequence showing Antarctic ice melting in Al Gore's polemic movie 'An Inconvenient truth' was cribbed from the Hollywood movie that had all the serious climatologists throwing peanuts at the screen; 'The day after tomorrow'.

Can't find any trace of this in any of the mainstream media outlets apart from 'FoxNews', ABC. and oddly enough, the Milwaukee Journal.

As for the religion of Anthropogenic Climate Change, if one of the founders of GreenPeace says there's no proof, I mean, what are we to think? What the hell is going on? What's more to the point - when do we get the money from all the extra 'green' taxes back? I'm not holding my breath.

Victoria

Day trip down to Victoria yesterday. Wife had an evening meeting to go to, so we thought we'd make a day of it. Left Dog with friends around nine, and headed south down the Island Highway. It rained all the way down until we crossed the Malahat, then all of a sudden, no rain. This sort of thing often happens when you travel through Vancouver Islands many micro climates.

We began the day off at the Maritime Museum, and a surprisingly spooky experience. On the third floor of the Museum is the Assizes room, where felons were tried, and sometimes sentenced to death. Now I didn't know this at the time, and just popped my head round the door and stepped in to the old court room. As court rooms go, this one looked pretty average for a Victorian court room. Having done jury duty (Twice!) I'm fairly familiar with the layout of a courtroom, including how hard those bench seats can be on your arse after two or three hours. The furniture and panelling was all built from the same gold coloured timber, with a raised bench at the back for the Magistrates / Judge to sit at, framed by heavy velvet hangings, stepped seating down both sides of the room, an enclosed witness stand by the court recorders bench in front of the judge, and a raised dock about a third of the way in to the court room from the rear. As I stepped level with the dock my back muscles knotted a little, and a vague sense of unease made me look up and around the plain panelled room. Looked behind the judges bench to see a fire extinguisher and old plain wooden chair. Passed by the dock again, and felt the same tightening. Very odd, seeing as I was the only person on that floor at the time. Not just the room, the entire floor. Rejoined Wife down at the gift shop and mentioned that 'you can feel a sense of history' when you walk in the old assizes. She pointed out an article about ghosts and what have you that we had missed on the way in. "You felt the ghost then?" She smirked at me.
"Don't know. All I know is what I felt." I said, so she wrote down that I had 'felt the ghost' in the visitors book, a thinly disguised expression of glee playing about her lips. Sometimes I should think very carefully about what I say to my better half.

Today we didn't head down to the Empress for tea. At sixty five bucks a head they can go whistle, but instead lunched at one of the many coffee shops in town. I chomped into a very nice Chicken and Mushroom Calzone with Olives, and wife had an Italian salad. After that, we spent our time visiting the Market Place and a number of stores around town. The dread 'shopping' experience was ameliorated by the various sales people, who lightened our path with friendly banter. We tried on hats, shopped for stationery and art materials, Wife looked at necklaces while I found a chair to lounge in. It could have been worse. Supper was at the Four Mile Bar and Grill over towards view Royal. Great chairs, guys. Terrific Garlic Chicken wings and vegetable dips. Wife went to her meeting around seven, and I took an hours snooze in the car when it became too dim to read. Drove back to friends to pick up Dog at twenty past ten, then Wife drove the last ten klicks home for tea, and a couple of episodes of 'Yes Minister' before bed. All in all, not a bad day.

A Statement

It is the view of this site;

"Hunters make the best environmentalists"

Anyone who doesn't understand this statement understands nothing.

A complete list of things caused by global warming

Well I never. Here's little old me thinking it was only the threat of the Gulf Stream likely to grind to a halt, the ice caps melting and drowning us all, and all the Polar Bears dying. I had no idea that it was causing Bulgarian Brothels to struggle and the Earth to explode.

Well spank my buns and toast them on a cycle 24 Sunspot. Sorry, too busy laughing. They want to raise taxes how much to 'fight global warming'? That's like fucking to save virginity. Glory be. The snake oil salesmen have been busy.

Aftermath

Took the camera with me to get a closer look at what the snow had done at the weekend and came up with the following shots;


Had to get my hatchet out and cut my way through quite a tangle of downed trees and branches just to get down to the shoreline.


Down at the shoreline, this was the view up the Narrows towards town.


Heading back towards the old boat ramp Dog and I came across this half metre thick Arbutus tree. The wood was healthy enough, but when these things go, they hit hard enough to shatter like glass.
This fir was almost sixty centimetres across at the point of breakage.

Bird watching

Successfully identified the Hummingbird that put on the aerobatic display for me before the snowfall as a Rufous Hummingbird. Got a good look at one yesterday afternoon and it's distinctive copper gorget was clearly identifiable. Checked out it's song characteristics, and confirmed that I really observed a 'defensive' display by one. Cute little critters, and quite entertaining to watch.

Also got a look at two Belted Kingfishers from a distance down in the Narrows. Ah yes, and Common Loons have been clearly seen and heard. According to my books, they tend to be a positive indicator of relative freedom from human intervention. In short, they like the wide and lonely places with few people around. Which is what we have round here.

Still plenty of snow around, although no fresh falls at the time of writing. The Deer have gone for the moment, and we're looking forward to a bit of a thaw today.

Was haunting a couple of climate forums last night and read a comment from one of the pro anthropogenic climate change camp to the effect that people who did not know what they were talking about should not post or discuss the subject. My thought was 'Well that isn't stopping you and Al Gore, is it?' Evil snigger.

Time for coffee, orange juice and scrambled eggs. Heavy sigh.

Surprise package

Going nowhere fast.
From the kitchen window over the bottom end of Dodd Narrows.
From the front room Window over the front yard.

Today was scheduled to be a busy day. Wife had filled up the van with kit to take to a charity event up in Nanaimo this morning. Everything was proceeding so smoothly, so we hunkered down and cuddled up for the night until just before our scheduled early morning.

At about five forty I heard the phone bleep, which is always a bad sign, as it means the power is off. Five minutes later it bleeped again and Wife vouchsafed; "I think the powers gone."
I gave my customary neanderthal grunt, eloquent but sub lingual; swinging my legs out of bed on automatic pilot. Noted that all the friendly little lights from the cable modem and phone were off before stumbling into the kitchen of our tidy little domicile. Was rather surprised at the amount of light coming from outside at this time of the morning. Took another look. "Bugger me." Was my first expostulation.
"What's up?" Called Wife from the bedroom.
"It's snowing. I can't see Mudge Island."
"You're kidding."
"Straight up." There looked to be six inches of the bloody stuff, and more coming down all the time. Peered out of the rear window to see our Ford Van covered in a good seven or eight inches of white stuff. "Think we ought to get an early start." I said, lighting our propane cooker by hand and putting the kettle on to boil. Wife turned out, and we both dressed quickly, layering up for the cold.

Dog bounced around excitedly. He loves snow like a two year old with new wellies loves puddles. "Come on dog, out the way." Wife scowled at him as he begged to be let out. I piled food into his dog bowl and stepped back while his manners took their usual holiday in the presence of food.

Outside, Dog and I made a beeline for our usual walk through the woods until we got about fifty yards in. All of a sudden there was a loud crack ten feet away, and a tree fell down. Literally. Thump. Not ten feet away from me. A whole six inch thick tree just gave up the ghost under the sheer weight of snow. Then another, and another. Dog and I beat a hasty retreat into open ground to the background of several more ominous cracks and thumps.

Heading back to the house I eyed the small hill that leads up to the main road from our small house. Six inches of untrammelled snow did not bode well for the days travail. By the time Dog and I returned home, wife had extra kit ready for the journey.

BC snow is generally wet snow. Not dry like they have out on the prairies. I was rather unrealistically hoping that this would let our laden Van struggle to the top of the slope. This was not to be. We just about got to the road before losing traction completely and could go no further. Wife scowled at me as if I was being deliberately obstructive. "Try it if you like. We're not going anywhere." I told her. Managed to get the van off the road and onto the drive so that anyone who was better equipped could get past, but gave up all hope of getting our vanful of toys to the kiddies we were supposed to be helping out at the charity do.

All morning as the snow slowed and finally stopped, I could literally hear the steam coming out of Wife's ears. She had a lot of emotional capital laid up with this particular event, and when she gets a bee in her bonnet like this, all I can say about my huggable darling wife is that she can be a real pain to live with. Saw neighbours pickup sally forth around nine and sail sedately up the road as if it was a normal day. An hour and a half later he returned at the same pace as if nothing had happened. I reflected to myself that we needed to be likewise equipped for next year. Regrettably this did not help Wife's mood. I definitely got the impression that she was going to deliver those toys, and damn the metaphorical torpedoes. A phone call to friends confirmed that there was 'about ten inches or so' of snow in town. All mobile calls to here fellow charity event organisers were met with the annoying soullessness of voicemail, which was not helpful.

Around eleven the sun came out, and I took the liberty of a small look outside. There was a lot of melting going on. Water dripping everywhere in the sunlight and rivulets running down the tyre tracks in the drive. Walked down to the road to check things out and noted how clear the tyre tracks left by neighbours snow tyre equipped pickup truck were. Walked up the road to the top of the hill and saw that further towards the main road the Snow had been cleared. Sauntered back to the house and bid wife to get ready to move again. "Might as well, no phone, no heating." She said resignedly, and followed me out to the van.

This time we managed the steep little hill with only a couple of little skips and jumps as our tyres ploughed through the melting snow, which was still a good six inches deep. Once at the top of the hill there was relatively little snow to cause me acute driving anxiety, and we got onto the main drag towards town. In one two kilometre stretch there were nine places where trees had fallen, blocking the road and disrupting the power lines. Neighbours and BC Hydro had already been busy with chainsaws and pickups, so the road was more or less clear. Oncoming traffic would spray us with massive tsunamis of slush every once in a while, but after a couple of bits of faulty navigation by wife we arrived at the charity venue just after twelve.

Caretaker popped his head out of the door and informed Wife that all events had been cancelled because there was no electricity. Wife returned to van, and tried to phone her principal who had given her the job of bringing the toys. No reply. After five minutes watching kids and adults tobogganing we elected to take a trip out. Wife had a hairdressing appointment later that afternoon north of town, so we headed out to the Woodgrove Mall. Snowploughs and bobcats were busy shovelling the last spaces clear of snow as we came in. It was almost surreal. Brilliant sunshine and half a foot of snow. Salvador Dali would have said it was impossible.

To commiserate for not succeeding with our mission of the day we lunched on junk food for the first time since Christmas and treated ourselves to some sounds. Wife went off for hairdo, and I went back to the van to crash out. It had been a long day, and quite draining emotionally. I just slumped across the front seats and was dead to the world for an hour. Wife returned, much mollified with her pampering at the hands of the hairdresser, informing me that despite the inclement weather, no one had missed their appointments. Says a lot for the determination of Canadian womenfolk.

Driving home we looked at the damage done by the snow, and I was moved to consider that I would dearly love to take some of the anthropogenic global warming alarmists by the scruff of their neck, stuff their faces into the freezing whiteness and tell them; "This is the worst snow in over thirty seven fucking years bozo! It is the nineteenth of April and it's fucking snowing! This is happening all over the world! It is not getting warmer! Are you blind, stupid, or what?"

Hey, I don't really care what they say so long as it doesn't mean more sodding pointless 'green' taxes. It is of no matter. I am now full of tea and nicely chilled. Bright sunlight can do that for you.

Art has boundaries

Via Small Dead Animals; an 'artist' gets some children to round up a stray, then ties it up in an art gallery to die of starvation.

I think that the people who went to see the 'art' are just as culpable, if not more so, than the 'artist'. Jeez, I like to hunt and fish. I'm quite relaxed about taking my dinner from field and sea to my dinner plate but prolonging the suffering of any creature is the true meaning of 'cruelty'. Poncing around drinking wine and talking, watching something die slowly while dog food is used to spell out the word 'work' in the local language out of reach of the poor bloody creature. A small boy pulling wings off flies is the closest comparative social stereotype I can think of.

A memory tugs in my head about another piece of 'Art' like this. In 1971, the comedian Spike Milligan smashed a glass door at London's Hayward Gallery in protest at American artist Newton Harrison's plan to electrocute catfish, oysters and shrimps as part of his Portable Fish Farm installation. The 'catfish controversy' was widely discussed in the media.

Art does have boundaries, and this kind of crap crosses them all. Hope the 'artist' never sells any of his work in his lifetime. Let him starve.

Global Censorship

Picked this little item up via my daily perusal of Drudge Report. It's about the censorship in the media about mans alleged effect on the climate. The Business & Media Institute report outlines how the voice of the sceptics like myself is being deliberately sidelined.

My point of view is this; the climate changes as it always has, with or without a contribution from mankind. For proof, one only has to look at the fossil or historical records. Mankind has very little effect on the global climate compared with the other major factors; which are the sun's variations in output, vulcanism, deep ocean temperature, orbital tilt, and magnetosphere variations. Mankinds contribution by comparison is like trying to heat an olympic size swimming pool with a travel hair dryer. It just doesn't stack up. The energy levels are too small.

As for the current state of things over here on the Island; for the past few days we have been graced with Hummingbirds. Speedy little critters that zip past, performing incredible aerobatics. Late yesterday afternoon I took Dog for his usual post prandial stroll, to be greeted by a high speed display. The Hummingbird, not sure of the species, came to a complete stop four metres away, made a noise like a child tooting a tiny plastic trumpet, then jinked upwards twenty centimetres. The following manouvre would have made an aerobatic pilot sick with envy. The Hummingbird dived in a half metre semicircle before flying dead level for five or six metres, turning ninety degrees into a five or six metre vertical climb. At the top of the climb neatly turning another semicircle and diving vertically before another smooth ninety degree turn and level flight brought it back to where it began. For a second or two it hovered before repeating the tiny trumpeting noise and almost exactly the same flight as before. I watched it perform the same aerial dance three times before Dog, being less endowed with patience than I, pulled me onwards to his next sniffing point.

The black tail deer are haunting our back yard this morning, and simply looked somewhat surprised when I opened the back door. They didn't run, just fed off the Tulips and Daffodils, little tinkers. Should have chased them off, but I didn't have the heart to do it. I could shoot one, but our freezer isn't big enough for all that Venison.

I hope the Hummingbirds are going to be okay, because we've already had a nasty dose of sleet this morning, and snowfalls are prophesied for this afternoon. The snow is clearing off Mt Benson, but I have an awful feeling it will be back with a vengeance before long. The leaves may be back on the trees, but Winter awaits it's cue for a dramatic late cameo appearance. Think I'll layer up for this afternoon.

Chant-BC

ME that ’ave been what I’ve been—
Me that ’ave gone where I’ve gone—
Me that ’ave seen what I’ve seen—
’Ow can I ever take on
With awful old England again,
An’ cameras both ends of the street,
And lines on two sides of the lane,
And the Council and traffic between,
An’ fillin’ out forms every day —
Me that ’ave been what I’ve been?

Me that ’ave watched ’arf a world
’Eave up all shiny with dew,
From the huge endless plains in the sun,
Long highways to horizons sharp edge,
And no clue as to where you’ve begun,
Not a sign of a truck or a train,
Over valleys as big as a shire—
Are we there? Are we there? Are we there?
An’ then the lone siren afar . . .
An’ I’m doing odd jobs on the car,
Me!

Me that ’ave driven the dark
Three hundred mile, often, on end,
Cross Northern Ontario’s swamps,
With only the stars for my mark
An’ only the headlights for my friend,
An’ things runnin’ off as you pass,
An’ huge things steppin’ out from the grass,
An’ the silence, the shine an’ the size
Of the ’igh, unexpressible skies—
I am takin’ some letters almost
As much as a floor to the post,
An’ “mind you come back with receipts”!
Me!

Me that saw Cape Bretons rain,
When we dropped through the clouds to the sea,
An’ we saw our first Moose in the dawn,
Me that drove through New Brunswicks scrubland,
An’ stared down a bear in the dusk—
From Vancouver to Halifax all—
Sleeping all night in the back of a van,
Breakfasts cooked over open log fires—
I am doin’ my Sunday-school best,
By the ’elp of the DHSS
(Not to mention the Council and all),
To come in an’ fill forms an’ wait turn,
An’ honestly work for a wage,
My livin’ in that state of life
To which it shall please God to call
Me!

Me that ’ave followed my dreams
Cross the place where the Lightnin’s are made,
’Twixt the Rains and the Sun and the Moon—
Me that lay down an’ got up
Three months with the sky for my roof—
That ’ave driven my need to feel free,
Eight thousand raw mile on the road,
With the Fraser and Lawrence for cup,
An’ the Great Lake Superior for dish,—
Oh! it’s ’ard to be’ave as they wish
(Too ’ard, an’ a little too soon),
I’ll ’ave to think over it first—
Me!

I will arise an’ get ’ence;—
I will trek West and make sure
If it’s only my fancy or not
That the sunshine of England is pale,
And the breezes of England are stale,
An’ there’s somethin’ gone wrong with the lot;
For I know of a sun an’ a wind,
An’ the sea and a mountain be’ind,
An’ some rock all surrounded by trees;
An’ a Canuck I’ve thought ’oo might give
Me a job were I ever inclined,
To look in, go fishin’ an’ live
Where there’s barely a road nor a house—
But only my Maker an’ me,
And I think it will kill me or cure,
So I think I will go there an’ see.
Me.

With huge apologies for amateurishly rewriting Rudyard Kiplings ‘Chant Pagan’.