Prairie Winters..

At first glance, you might think I've interrupted Johnny in the outhouse. But no, this is his home-built ice-fishing shack!

Johnny is 13 and this week I visited the Saskatchewan farm where he lives with his sister, Josephine, and his parents Tom and Judy. He built the shack and can tow it onto the lake by hand -- note the cross-county skis it's sitting on. There's even a stove on the side for heating water to wash his hands after gutting his catch, or for frying the fish for lunch.

The farm has no electricity so oil lamps are used for light and woodstoves deliver the heat. We used horses to haul deadwood from a poplar grove for firewood. The food we ate was pretty much all grown there. (The mustard was particularly flavourful.)

There's no running water on the farm, and call me soft, but it's tough pulling on boots and a coat to trudge to the outhouse at night in February. There's also no TV so I've missed several days of Olympic coverage.

I'm catching up on my TV watching this week in Prince Albert. Go Canada! (And U.S.A., and New Zealand, and Australia, and Great Britain, and Japan, and the Netherlands, and...)

Home In Edmonton..

Everyone keeps telling me how mild the weather is here. They say it went down to -40 back in December, so the current -7 to - 13 feels warm to them. I just can't believe how cold it is!

I had to borrow a winter coat when I first arrived and the bike I'm riding in the picture is a loaner, too. But I've bought new panniers and retrieved one of my old Nishiki road bikes from a friend's garage and should have it running soon with a studded front tire for winter.

The Nishiki came from the Dumpster behind a popular Edmonton bicycle shop and it's been my summer ride for almost five years. Unlike Darling, which was the bike I lost in an accident in Iran in September (see earlier "Crash" post) this bike has never had a name. I've always just called it "The Summer Hooptie." I think now is the time to shorten that to "Summer." I know this doesn't make a lot of sense considering I'll be using it in winter, but I think I'll keep on the lookout for new winter bike in the coming months.

Darling, by the way, may not actually be dead. Her frame wasn't seriously twisted and the Iranian dentist who hit me with his car thought he might be able to repair her for his young son. In order to claim the bike from the police, though, the officers at the impound lot demanded proof of ownership. Fortunately I had my digital camera with pictures of Darling in England and Canada, and that seemed to satisfy them.

I wish I could have saved Darling myself but I really wasn't in a position to at the time. Who knows? Maybe she'll have another life in Iran.