FAMILY SEARCHING FOR: ALLEN ROY BRO and/or NOREEN CAMERON (Nee FURNESS)

I’m posting this in order to help my son find his father Allen Roy Bro. We welcome contact from Allen, or others that may know of him, including his other children.

Allen and his mother Noreen Furness were living in Victoria BC in the late 40’s or early 50’s. They moved to Alberta with Jack Cameron where Donald and Sharin were born.

Allen, it's time....please contact your son in Calgary at (403) 210-2668 or via this blog. He would love to talk to you and share his life and family with you. Your brother Donald has also been looking for you for many years and would like to re-connect.

The photo is from 1967.

AKA: Al Bro, Allen Bro, Al Cameron, Allen Cameron

There is MORE to Cuba than the beach!

Click the link below for the slide show.

NOTE: there are 500 photos - allow time

http://picasaweb.google.com/Travel.with.Delane/499Cuba#slideshow

Cuba's classic cars..and other ways to get around

In the 1940’s and 50’s the automakers in the United States shipped the next years models to Cuba to have them tested prior to building the cars on the full production line. Since Castro’s Revolution in 1959 there has been an embargo on all US products entering Cuba. This policy has resulted in an image of Cuba being “Stuck in the Fifty’s”, not only with cars and other goods, but in the general look and feel of the country. There is new tourist and mass transit buses from China, and the odd newer Mitsubishi, Honda, or Kia cars on the roads, which belong to diplomats and high ranking government officials. A fair amount of the Russian built Lada’s, which arrived in Cuba prior to the 2001 Russian exit, are still being driven too. These boxy, tinny vehicles look barely roadworthy.

True to the images of Cuba being “stuck in the fifty’s” the American car sightings are not disappointing. Some of the classic cars look like they just rolled of the assembly lines and others look like they have been around for the 50 years since Castro’s Revolution. In Cuba, necessity definitely is the mother of invention when it comes to car maintenance. With the lack of availability of quality, affordable replacement parts, locals have taken to jury-rigging their rides with whatever bits they can muster- ancient Russian diesel engines, tatty Kia bits, baling wire, used cigar wrappers, anything. Auto body work on some cars takes place in front yards, and looks like it is being done with a hammer and a little filler. Many of the cars may have newer Japanese or Russian engines, but the bodies are pure retro. There is definitely a pride in ownership to these cars as they are polished to perfection and driven proudly as personal cars or taxis. A few cars have been customized and have terrific paint jobs. Unfortunately, if the embargo from the US is ever lifted, I think that Cuba will lose some of its charm, because the Americans will come in and gut Cuba of its classic cars.






The main divided highway that runs a little over 1200 Kilometers down the center of Cuba, from Pinar Del Rio to Guantanamo, has many overpasses which designate main intersections. At these locations government employees dressed totally in yellow or blue work to ensure that all of the many government vehicles that travel on these major routes are full with commuters. It is the responsibility of any government employee, and most of the 11.2 million people of Cuba work for the government in some capacity, to stop and check with these colorfully dressed monitors to make sure that the people waiting for a ride are accommodated.


Other people stand on the highway near main intersections every day, fanning out pesos in order to entice drivers to pick them up. One of the most common ways to travel on the local roads is either riding horseback, or in buggies or wagons pulled by a team of horses. There are very few tractors or big machinery except in the large sugar cane fields. Most of the small agriculture operators of tobacco farms or rice fields still used oxen, horses, or in a few cases small tractors.


Last but not least is Cuba’s answer to the Auto-rickshaws, Tri-shaws, and Tuk Tuks …. The CoCo Taxi. This yellow transportation creation based on a motor cycle, is a 3 person vehicle, one driver up front and 2 passengers seated in the rear, however based on past travel experiences I know you can squeeze 3 in the back. The person in the middle gets a bonus square butt effect after the ride due to the ridges in the 2 outside seats. Ouch… and from Peg and I - thanks Denise!

Dog Sledding in Canmore

It was a beautiful sunny day in the Canadian Rockies at Canmore, Alberta, when we arrived for our dog sledding experience with Snowy Owl Sled Dog Tours. We were loaded into a large van with 11 others, from as far away as the Blue Mountains just west of Sidney Australia. We traveled up the Smith Dorrien Spray Trail, which is a steep mountain road south of Canmore, until we crossed the dam on Spray Lake, our starting point.

Our group got a chance to meet the huskies and the trainer/guide Jereme Arsenault, who gave us a light hearted but thorough introduction to the sport of Dog Sledding prior to heading out on the trail. "Hike" "Whoa" "Easy" "Good Dogs" The few simple commands that we would master to make the trip enjoyable....and not confuse the dogs with needless screaming. And remember "don't let go" "help the dogs by pushing on the up hill portions" and "ride the brake, with 2 feet if necessary on the steep sections, or when one of the dogs needs a potty break and the other 5 keep running" ......Simple Right!

Peggy and her "Bucket List" was the reason we were embarking on this adventure, so she took the lead and tried her hand at Mushing first. Swee and I were seated and strapped snugly in the sled, along with our backpacks and camera gear. Because Swee was just a smidgen taller, she got the rear position and I took the forward seat. A bonus as far as I was concerned, because it kept my back warm.

The trail was well worn due to frequent use, icy on some of the down hill sections, and lay in a wide clearing amongst the tall trees which kept most of it in the shade. The huskies and their masters make this trip up to 4 times during the day, and sometimes at midnight, they know the route well. One Hundred and fifty dogs work regularly on these trails, and each one is rested on a rotated basis, so they are fresh and anxious to move. The dogs are as fit as the any of the Olympic Athletes who live and train in this mountain paradise, and are keen to run, even when you are not ready to go.

The trails were a bit steeper and icier than I had expected, and the dogs ran much faster. It felt cold on our faces because of speed of the sleigh, and I wished that I had brought warmer boots. Occasionally when we got too close to the sled in front of us, or maybe it was from the dogs paws, we felt bits of snow and ice flipped into our faces. Peggy was doing a good job of taking the hills and corners, and stopping when the guide instructed. We could hear her laboured breathing when we had an up hill section where she had the pad with one foot to assist the dogs. Peggy was more exposed to the elements, but was also working hard, so she was fairly warm compared to Swee and I strapped in our cocoon.

The sled in front of us was driven by Jereme the guide, the snow and ice kicked up as he applied the brakes on the longest down hill section of the ride. Our rig is in close pursuit, with our dogs hot on their trail. The huskies had a uncanny sense if they got tangled in the rigging to keep running while managing to get themselves clear of the ropes. For myself I would have probably tripped immediately and got 10 points for a face plant

Jereme has to make an emergency repair on the brakes on his sled as we approach a long down hill section of the trail. We all wait for a few minutes while the repair work is being done.

The dogs are patient momentarily, but are anxious to get moving and have a eager look while checking out what's happening behind them. The huskies would prefer to keep running rather than these unplanned stops. The 5 breeds used by the Snowy Owl kennels are the Siberian Huskies, Canadian Indian Huskies, Canadian Inuit Huskies, Alaskan Malamute Huskies and Alaskan Huskies. All beautiful dogs who LOVE to run.

WATCH VIDEO

Soon we are back on the trail, and heading down hill again and around a hairpin turn. There were additional Snowy Owl staff on hand to make sure that we all negotiated this particular turn without incident. A safety aspect of the tour that was appreciated by all of the novice mushers and passengers.

We eventually pulled into the half way point and wait for the guide to assist us with the strap and help us out of the sled. Swee and I look like a couple of mummys, all wrapped up in the sled coverings, which were lined with fleece. We have very pink cheeks caused by wind burn from the fast moving sled. Some of the trail was quite bumpy so we are looking forward to getting out of the sled for a 10 minute break, photos and driver change. At this point my feet were getting cold too, so I wanted to get my feet moving to warm up a bit.

The dogs take a well earned rest too! However, other than taking a roll in the snow they were on their feet, moving around and dangling their tongues in the fresh air and occasionally barking. Seeming to say "What's taking you so long, lets get going" The dogs were very observant at this rest stop and were always checking over their shoulders to see what the humans were up to. The huskies were well behaved and allowed me to climb over and between them to get the angle I wanted for my pictures.

Now this is where this story gets interesting, and unfortunately, even though we had 4 cameras between us, AND there was a photographer on route to capture our adventure, and sell it to us at the end of the trip, we don't have one single picture of our runaway sled to share with you. At the half way point Swee and I decided to do some tandem mushing. Jereme had given us sufficient information in this technique at the orientation, and after Peggy mushing the first leg by herself, we thought we could manage this task between the two of us. But first, I went up to the lead sled and asked Jereme if we were returning on the same route, as I was concerned about the long hill we had just come down, and I thought I might have to run up most it if we returned on the same route. Of course, I knew that I was out of shape and incapable of running up hill. When he said we were going forward, and that most of the return trip was down hill and on the flat, I thought OK - No problem the two of us can handle this.

Jereme strapped Peggy in the sled, and Swee and I hollered "Hike," as our dogs took off running down the trail at a fast clip. We took the first couple of turns and down hill portion in stride, applying the break and slowing down when required. Our guide hollered back to us to keep our knees bent, which we did, and everything was going fine. My sun glassed kept fogging up every time we stopped, but once we got going they cleared off right away and I was starting to enjoy standing on the left runner and gliding over the snow covered trail, breathing the fresh mountain air.

Then it happened! I found myself laying in the snow on the far side of the trail. It happened so fast. I imagine it was something like a cowboy making only 1 second of his 8 second ride on the back of a Bahama bull. The first sensation I had was tipping sideways then landing on my hip. There is no memory of what happened in between. My head snapped back and came in contact with the hard packed ice on the trail. Then I just laid there stunned for a few seconds, and I think I remember seeing Swee hitting the snow and the runaway sled turned on its left side still skidding down the trail, Peggy trapped inside.

Jereme somehow knew what was happening, it must have been when Swee called out my name, (as I was told later) and he quickly stopped his outfit and came back to assist. I got up slowly and wobbled a bit before I got my balance back. It felt like a train wreck.

Jereme was hollering "Miss" "Miss" stay there. "Miss," come to the other side of the trail. Swee was coming to my rescue and we didn't know which 'Miss" he was calling to. He just wanted to keep us out of the way if one of the sleds could not stop on the blind corner behind us. We made our way back to our sled, and by that time Peggy had had been extricated and had conversed with the guide. They both assumed that she would mush the sled carrying the wounded back to the meeting place, which she did very skillfully and once again saved the day!

Remember: Always look up to your Musher!

We all have bumps and bruises to show for our weekday warriorette experience. But we won't let that hold us back from other adventures. No Pain, No Gain and No Regrets!

A laugh, hot apple cider and cookies were a good way to end the day in the mountains. Oh yeah, there was also an opportunity to purchase cold weather gear and souvenirs at the booking office in Canmore, and of course the ever present pictures that the photographer took while we were on the trail.

The only thing that remains is to tend the sore muscles and technicolour bruises we have as souvenirs of the day. Badges of honor reminding us not to be couch potatoes, and it's never too late to try something new.

A Whisky Jack looking for crumbs at the campfire; probably laughed himself silly at all the antics in the mountains today.

Thanks for dropping in... until next time,

Delane

Married to a Bedouin

April 2008

Every once and a while you meet someone really interesting, recently this happened to me on a trip to the southern part of Jordan.

On the flight from London to Cairo aboard a British Airways plane, I was reading the airlines magazine. There was an interesting article about author Marguerite van Geldermalsen, a nurse from New Zealand, who in 1976 made a trip to Jordan with a girlfriend. Marguerite had spent some time in Britian the previous winter and did not enjoy the damp and the gray, so thinking that the Middle East would be warmer she joined her girlfriend for what would be a life changing experience. How would she know that this decision to get out of the cold weather would begin a love affair with a charismatic souvenir-seller in the ancient city of Petra.

As facinating as the article was, I had no idea that within 2 weeks of reading it, I would meet this amazing woman only a few hundred yards from the cave where she and Mohammad Abdalla Orthman raised their 3 children. In retrospect I really wish I had read Married to a Bedouin before I traveled to Jordan, as I would have had a better understanding of the site and the people.


To enter Petra you have to travel the 2 km down the narrow passageways of the sandstone cliffs called the Siq, then you see, through a sliver of light, the Treasury, probably the most famous of the Petra sights. Through this opening and on the steps of the Treasury is where Mohammad met Marguerite, it’s also the place where our guide told us that he knew Margurite, and that she just might be in Petra on the day of our visit. Nedal would make a phone call to see if she was available. Ok I thought this could be a interesting addition to our visit. A more modern view of this area of Jordan first settled by the Nabataeans in the 6th century BC.


Marguerite was very gracious when we met her. She autographed each book and answered our questions. Someone mentioned to her about the magazine article we had read in British Airways magazine. She said that there had been some travel writers who had visited with her a few months prior, and that she never really got to see many of the articles written about her. Upon hearing her comment I made a mental note to take the complimentary copy of the magazine on our flight home, with the intent of contacting Marguerite and sending her the article.

The book was such a fascinating read. Not just the personal story of Margurite and her family, but the way of life of the Bedouin people, the customs and traditions relative to marriages and weddings, social activities, her work in the clinic, friendships, and family relationships. I had the book finished before I got to London. When I got home I e-mailed Marguerite to ask permission to post her photo on this blog, and in a few days came the reply. She has a dry sense of humor and I thank her for her candid response to my e-mails.

Married to a Bedouin by Marguerite van Geldermalsen was first published in 2006. This is a love story pure and simple! What other reason would a perfectly sane, educated, well traveled woman live and raise 3 children in a 2000 year old cave, with no running water or electricity.

Today Marguerite lives in Petra, and would welcome travelers to visit her. She will take you on a personal tour of her “cave” and other activities. For more information please contact Marguerite directly at: http://www.marriedtoabedouin.com/