If you are looking for the line up stay tuned or get a tuner and just imagine all the great music coming to the waterfront park this August.
Until then see you at the Trout.
Trout Forest Music Festival
"Catch the Trout, It's Music in the Woods!"
August 8, 9 & 10, 2008
P.O. Box 372 Ear Falls, Ontario P0V 1T0
Phone (807) 222-2404 or Toll Free 1-866-TROUT33
e-mail: trout@troutfest.com website: www.troutfest.com
Tickets Now on Sale Near You!
For the Trout Forest Music Festival, August 8th -10th, 2008
Tickets are now on sale for the 13th Annual Trout Forest Music Festival set to take place
August 8th, 9th & 10th at the Ear Falls Waterfront Park. Our website and ticket outlets are open for
business. Early Bird prices will be in effect until midnight July 18th. Significant savings are
available off the gate prices so get yours early!
Information on ticket prices, camping, festival rules and restrictions, applying to volunteer or applying
for a spot in our food court/ artisan area, are available through our website at www.troutfest.com or
by contacting David at (807) 222-2404. Please stay tuned on upcoming events.
To get your tickets, simply go to the online Ticket Order Form page, print it out and send it in with a
personal check or money order to the festival office - or submit the Ticket Order Form found on our
Poster/ Brochure available at various locations throughout the Region.
Please not that the GST has been added to the Ticket Prices in an effort to streamline the process and
make it easier for everyone to get their Tickets.
Tickets are also available at the following locations:
Stems ‘n Such – Ear Falls Plaza
The Water Buffalo – Hwy 105, Red Lake
Q104 FM Office – 78 Spruce St., Vermilion Bay
The Golden Nectar – 325 Government St., Dryden
CKDR 92.7 FM Dryden – 122 King St., Dryden
Ho Joe’s Coffee & Books – 117 Main St., Kenora
Fragile Glass Studios with Charm – 1415 Hwy 17 East, Kenora
Winnipeg Folk Festival Store 203-211 Bannantyne Ave, Winnipeg
Times Change(d) High & Lonesome Club – 234 Main St., Winnipeg
Start making plans early so as not to miss any of the enjoyment that only the finest in Northern Hospitality can
provide! We welcome any and all comments and suggestions and appreciate all of the support that the
community and region have offered over the years. Bring your family and friends out for the experience of a
lifetime and “Catch the Trout, It’s Music in the Woods!”
Sincerely,
David Hoey: Executive Director
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Monday, April 21, 2008
On gas prices
THIS IS NOT THE 'DON'T BUY' GAS FOR ONE DAY, BUT IT WILL SHOW YOU
HOW WE CAN GET GAS BACK DOWN TO $.90 PER Litre....hopefully
This was sent by a retired Coca Cola executive. It came from one of
his engineer buddies who retired from Halliburton. If you are tired of the
gas prices going up AND they will continue to rise this summer, take time to
read this PLEASE.
Phillip Hollsworth offered this good idea.
This makes MUCH MORE SENSE than the 'don't buy gas on a certain day'
campaign that was going around last April or May!
It's worth your consideration. Join the resistance!!!!
I hear we are going to hit close to $ 2.00 a litre by next summer and
it might go higher!! Want gasoline prices to come down?
We need to take some intelligent, united action. The oil companies
just laughed at that because they knew we wouldn't continue to 'hurt'
ourselves by refusing to buy gas.
It was more of an inconvenience to us than it was a problem for them.
BUT, whoever thought of this idea, has come up with a plan that can
Really work. Please read on and join with us!
By now you're probably thinking gasoline priced at about $1.00 is
super cheap. Me too! It is currently $1.17 for regular unleaded in my
town.
Now that the oil companies and the OPEC nations have conditioned us to
think that the cost of a gallon of gas is CHEAP at $1.14, we need to take
aggressive action to teach them that BUYERS control the marketplace...not
sellers.
With the price of gasoline going up more each day, we consumers need
to take action.
The only way we are going to see the price of gas come down is if we
hit someone in the pocketbook by not purchasing their gas! And, we can do
that WITHOUT hurting ourselves.
How? Since we all rely on our cars, we can't just stop buying gas.
But we CAN have an impact on gas prices if we all act together to
force a price war.
Here's the idea: For the rest of this year, DON'T purchase ANY
gasoline from the two biggest companies,
ESSO and SHELL.
If they are not selling any gas, they will be inclined to reduce their
prices. If they reduce their prices, the other companies will have to
follow suit.
But to have an impact, we need to reach literally millions of Esso and
Shell gas buyers. It's really simple to do! Now, don't wimp out on me at
this point...keep reading and I'll explain how simple it is to reach
millions of people!!
I am sending this note to 30 people. If each of us send it to at
least ten more (30 x 10 = 300) .. and those 300 send it to at least ten
more (300 x 10 = 3,000)...and so on, by the time the message reaches the
sixth group of people, we will have reached over THREE MILLION consumers.
If those three million get excited and pass this on to ten friends
each, then 30 million people will have been contacted!
If it goes one level further, you guessed it..... THREE HUNDRED
MILLION PEOPLE!!!
Again, all you have to do is send this to 10 people. That's all!
(If you don't understand how we can reach 300 million and all you have
to do is send this to 10 people.... Well, let's face it, you just aren't a
mathematician. But I am... so trust me on this one.
How long would all that take? If each of us sends this e-mail out to
ten more people within one day of receipt, all in. I suggest that we not
buy from Esso and Shell UNTIL 300 MILLION people could conceivably be
contacted within the next 8 days!!!
I'll bet you didn't think you and I had that much potential, did you!
Acting together we can make a difference.
If this makes sense to you, please pass this message on. THEY LOWER
THEIR PRICES TO BELOW THE $1.00 RANGE AND KEEP THEM DOWN. THIS CAN REALLY
WORK.
HOW WE CAN GET GAS BACK DOWN TO $.90 PER Litre....hopefully
This was sent by a retired Coca Cola executive. It came from one of
his engineer buddies who retired from Halliburton. If you are tired of the
gas prices going up AND they will continue to rise this summer, take time to
read this PLEASE.
Phillip Hollsworth offered this good idea.
This makes MUCH MORE SENSE than the 'don't buy gas on a certain day'
campaign that was going around last April or May!
It's worth your consideration. Join the resistance!!!!
I hear we are going to hit close to $ 2.00 a litre by next summer and
it might go higher!! Want gasoline prices to come down?
We need to take some intelligent, united action. The oil companies
just laughed at that because they knew we wouldn't continue to 'hurt'
ourselves by refusing to buy gas.
It was more of an inconvenience to us than it was a problem for them.
BUT, whoever thought of this idea, has come up with a plan that can
Really work. Please read on and join with us!
By now you're probably thinking gasoline priced at about $1.00 is
super cheap. Me too! It is currently $1.17 for regular unleaded in my
town.
Now that the oil companies and the OPEC nations have conditioned us to
think that the cost of a gallon of gas is CHEAP at $1.14, we need to take
aggressive action to teach them that BUYERS control the marketplace...not
sellers.
With the price of gasoline going up more each day, we consumers need
to take action.
The only way we are going to see the price of gas come down is if we
hit someone in the pocketbook by not purchasing their gas! And, we can do
that WITHOUT hurting ourselves.
How? Since we all rely on our cars, we can't just stop buying gas.
But we CAN have an impact on gas prices if we all act together to
force a price war.
Here's the idea: For the rest of this year, DON'T purchase ANY
gasoline from the two biggest companies,
ESSO and SHELL.
If they are not selling any gas, they will be inclined to reduce their
prices. If they reduce their prices, the other companies will have to
follow suit.
But to have an impact, we need to reach literally millions of Esso and
Shell gas buyers. It's really simple to do! Now, don't wimp out on me at
this point...keep reading and I'll explain how simple it is to reach
millions of people!!
I am sending this note to 30 people. If each of us send it to at
least ten more (30 x 10 = 300) .. and those 300 send it to at least ten
more (300 x 10 = 3,000)...and so on, by the time the message reaches the
sixth group of people, we will have reached over THREE MILLION consumers.
If those three million get excited and pass this on to ten friends
each, then 30 million people will have been contacted!
If it goes one level further, you guessed it..... THREE HUNDRED
MILLION PEOPLE!!!
Again, all you have to do is send this to 10 people. That's all!
(If you don't understand how we can reach 300 million and all you have
to do is send this to 10 people.... Well, let's face it, you just aren't a
mathematician. But I am... so trust me on this one.
How long would all that take? If each of us sends this e-mail out to
ten more people within one day of receipt, all in. I suggest that we not
buy from Esso and Shell UNTIL 300 MILLION people could conceivably be
contacted within the next 8 days!!!
I'll bet you didn't think you and I had that much potential, did you!
Acting together we can make a difference.
If this makes sense to you, please pass this message on. THEY LOWER
THEIR PRICES TO BELOW THE $1.00 RANGE AND KEEP THEM DOWN. THIS CAN REALLY
WORK.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
The Tale of Two Roy's
My friends have often said that I need to learn how to say “no”. Sometimes life leads us on roads and trails for a purpose.
Way back in the mid-eighties my neighbour, Lornie Roulston, asked if I could lend a hand north of Kenora doing some training with a new de-limber. If you ever knew the late Lorne Roulston you would know he did not know the meaning of the word “no”. He was a man who was community-minded, always helping where he could. I said, “Sure Lornie, I would be glad to help out.”Down the dusty Jones Road I traveled, brought out the limber; and met the guys he had to run it. The bunchers and grapple skidders were stockpiling the tree lengths at the wrong angle for the limber. The operators had never run anything other that a cable skidder before, we gave them a basic lesson on the unit and they went to work.My accommodation was a belittled shack in the bush, next to some old trailers and broken down pickup trucks on the edge of a gravel pit. What had I gotten myself into? This was going to be a long week down the Jones road.One of the trailers parked in the bush was a tiny little shell, its door open wide. A man sat inside, elbows on his knees, head down, staring at the floor. He ran his hands through his hair, combing back the long black strands. It was hot, very hot; he sat in the shade, in the trailer. I did a double take, watching him sit there alone. He finally looked up and our eyes met.“Roy?” I asked, in disbelief, “Uncle Roy?” He smiled as he heard my voice.Roy was the guy who drove those big old shiny cars way back when we all use to gather in Prawda Manitoba when I was a child. He had men working for him, trucks, skidders, and a fancy house on the east highway. What had happened?In the corner of the trailer stood a 22 rifle. Roy motioned with his eyes to the gun.“Many times I’ve thought about shooting myself,” and then smiling, “but I have this terrible habit of surviving.” More smiles. He told me about how a relative of his was always in trouble. He kept bailing him out of jail or paying off bad loans for him. Eventually Roy lost his skidder and his truck. Now he was running someone else’s old beat up skidder. No safety pants or mitts, living his life alone in the bush.It was just like Roy to help anyone in trouble; it was just life to him.
I invited Uncle Roy to Ear Falls and he showed up a few weeks later. He had a huge grin like he always did. His uncle in Toronto had passed away and left Roy his entire estate. Roy was headed down easy street. I went with him out to the bush to pick up that old trailer. He wouldn’t need to cut wood anymore.That summer we fished, worked on my trailer, made perogies and had many cold beers together. We found his old canoe on a small pothole lake down the Windfall road (Roy’s lake) and made the time to smile a lot. Roy had a great, wonderful smile.Over the next few years Roy came back to visit often. On one of his last visits with me we put up 47 sheets of drywall, mucked and taped and worked hard together. Roy had a bad cough. Was it the dust of the drywall that made him cough? Some months later my father called to invite himself fishing. He had something to tell me. We went out on the lake. He told me that while Roy lay on his death bed he sat up and said to his sister Ruth,“ I am going to the other side.” Ruth said, “ You’re not going anywhere, you’re too sick.” Roy argued, “ I’m not afraid to go.”At fifty-six, Roy went to the other side without fear, without anger, a man of wit and humor. A man that I had never heard say an unkind word about anyone. Someone, who in my childhood, was one of my role models. Now he was someone I’d never had a chance to say good-bye to. The canoe lays in the grass on the edge of Roy’s lake, down the Windfall Road, right where Roy left it years ago.
Way back in the mid-eighties my neighbour, Lornie Roulston, asked if I could lend a hand north of Kenora doing some training with a new de-limber. If you ever knew the late Lorne Roulston you would know he did not know the meaning of the word “no”. He was a man who was community-minded, always helping where he could. I said, “Sure Lornie, I would be glad to help out.”Down the dusty Jones Road I traveled, brought out the limber; and met the guys he had to run it. The bunchers and grapple skidders were stockpiling the tree lengths at the wrong angle for the limber. The operators had never run anything other that a cable skidder before, we gave them a basic lesson on the unit and they went to work.My accommodation was a belittled shack in the bush, next to some old trailers and broken down pickup trucks on the edge of a gravel pit. What had I gotten myself into? This was going to be a long week down the Jones road.One of the trailers parked in the bush was a tiny little shell, its door open wide. A man sat inside, elbows on his knees, head down, staring at the floor. He ran his hands through his hair, combing back the long black strands. It was hot, very hot; he sat in the shade, in the trailer. I did a double take, watching him sit there alone. He finally looked up and our eyes met.“Roy?” I asked, in disbelief, “Uncle Roy?” He smiled as he heard my voice.Roy was the guy who drove those big old shiny cars way back when we all use to gather in Prawda Manitoba when I was a child. He had men working for him, trucks, skidders, and a fancy house on the east highway. What had happened?In the corner of the trailer stood a 22 rifle. Roy motioned with his eyes to the gun.“Many times I’ve thought about shooting myself,” and then smiling, “but I have this terrible habit of surviving.” More smiles. He told me about how a relative of his was always in trouble. He kept bailing him out of jail or paying off bad loans for him. Eventually Roy lost his skidder and his truck. Now he was running someone else’s old beat up skidder. No safety pants or mitts, living his life alone in the bush.It was just like Roy to help anyone in trouble; it was just life to him.
I invited Uncle Roy to Ear Falls and he showed up a few weeks later. He had a huge grin like he always did. His uncle in Toronto had passed away and left Roy his entire estate. Roy was headed down easy street. I went with him out to the bush to pick up that old trailer. He wouldn’t need to cut wood anymore.That summer we fished, worked on my trailer, made perogies and had many cold beers together. We found his old canoe on a small pothole lake down the Windfall road (Roy’s lake) and made the time to smile a lot. Roy had a great, wonderful smile.Over the next few years Roy came back to visit often. On one of his last visits with me we put up 47 sheets of drywall, mucked and taped and worked hard together. Roy had a bad cough. Was it the dust of the drywall that made him cough? Some months later my father called to invite himself fishing. He had something to tell me. We went out on the lake. He told me that while Roy lay on his death bed he sat up and said to his sister Ruth,“ I am going to the other side.” Ruth said, “ You’re not going anywhere, you’re too sick.” Roy argued, “ I’m not afraid to go.”At fifty-six, Roy went to the other side without fear, without anger, a man of wit and humor. A man that I had never heard say an unkind word about anyone. Someone, who in my childhood, was one of my role models. Now he was someone I’d never had a chance to say good-bye to. The canoe lays in the grass on the edge of Roy’s lake, down the Windfall Road, right where Roy left it years ago.
Big Bad Tom
The thing about working in the bush in the old days was that you spent more time with your partner than your spouse. Usually one also tipped a few back after work with the boys. A bonus on the amount of wood you cut was a daily routine. We’d see who made the most bonus at the end of each day.
One of my partners, Tom Brigdal, was a big man, I would have to say he stood five foot three. On the second day we worked together in the morning I told him about us making
$47 bonus the day before. Tom said, “I never made forty seven dollars on a pay period let alone in one day. Holy crow!” We went to work in a stand of huge spruce sailors – beautiful wood. What I didn’t tell Tom was that we were on the bottom edge of the bonus sheets; all the other crews were making $75 or $100 per day. None-the-less we worked hard and at the end of our first pay period we had a grand total of $347 bonus. Tom walked like he was ten feet tall.
Each day when I would get home from work my missus would tell me all about the previous day. Tom would go home after work and share his day with his wife Heather.
That first day we worked together Tom told Heather every detail. The first coffee break we took, while Tom was getting the lids off his Tupperware ready to pour the milk on his cereal, I had inhaled three cookies and a cup of tea. “Well Tom,” I told him, “I guess we better get back at ‘er.” Tom told his wife Heather, “That Lloyd makes me dizzy!”
Payday came and the thing about bush workers back then was they played just as hard as they worked. We hit town and the beer store – it was payday, right? We worked together and on payday we drank together. Yes, Tom was one of the boys. No dinner, just cold wet beer. The first to wash down the dust, and then a second one, and then a third.
Tom felt he had better get home, but we got him all wound up, telling him, “Tom, you’re the boss. There is nothing wrong with having a few with the boys after work.” Tom replied, “That’s right, I’m the boss!” By the wee hours of the morning every one headed for home.
The next day Tom was not out in the bush. I went to work by myself, which would mean a double bonus. By eight Tom arrived at work. It turned out that Heather had locked him out! Tom had slept in his pickup truck. He had no lunch and an empty water jug. An unspoken rule in the bush was that if your partner showed up hung over, you showed no mercy. You worked harder and faster.
I recall telling Tom that day, “Make sure you let your wife know who the boss is. There is nothing wrong with having a few with the boys.” Tom repeated, “That’s right, I am the boss.”
Tom and his wife lived at the end of the trailer park from me. With the windows open we could hear Tom upon his return home from work that day saying, “I‘m the boss and no I am not coming out from under the table!” Talk around town was that Tom did not win that battle.
Tom now lives in the Dryden area and he still works in the bush.
One of my partners, Tom Brigdal, was a big man, I would have to say he stood five foot three. On the second day we worked together in the morning I told him about us making
$47 bonus the day before. Tom said, “I never made forty seven dollars on a pay period let alone in one day. Holy crow!” We went to work in a stand of huge spruce sailors – beautiful wood. What I didn’t tell Tom was that we were on the bottom edge of the bonus sheets; all the other crews were making $75 or $100 per day. None-the-less we worked hard and at the end of our first pay period we had a grand total of $347 bonus. Tom walked like he was ten feet tall.
Each day when I would get home from work my missus would tell me all about the previous day. Tom would go home after work and share his day with his wife Heather.
That first day we worked together Tom told Heather every detail. The first coffee break we took, while Tom was getting the lids off his Tupperware ready to pour the milk on his cereal, I had inhaled three cookies and a cup of tea. “Well Tom,” I told him, “I guess we better get back at ‘er.” Tom told his wife Heather, “That Lloyd makes me dizzy!”
Payday came and the thing about bush workers back then was they played just as hard as they worked. We hit town and the beer store – it was payday, right? We worked together and on payday we drank together. Yes, Tom was one of the boys. No dinner, just cold wet beer. The first to wash down the dust, and then a second one, and then a third.
Tom felt he had better get home, but we got him all wound up, telling him, “Tom, you’re the boss. There is nothing wrong with having a few with the boys after work.” Tom replied, “That’s right, I’m the boss!” By the wee hours of the morning every one headed for home.
The next day Tom was not out in the bush. I went to work by myself, which would mean a double bonus. By eight Tom arrived at work. It turned out that Heather had locked him out! Tom had slept in his pickup truck. He had no lunch and an empty water jug. An unspoken rule in the bush was that if your partner showed up hung over, you showed no mercy. You worked harder and faster.
I recall telling Tom that day, “Make sure you let your wife know who the boss is. There is nothing wrong with having a few with the boys.” Tom repeated, “That’s right, I am the boss.”
Tom and his wife lived at the end of the trailer park from me. With the windows open we could hear Tom upon his return home from work that day saying, “I‘m the boss and no I am not coming out from under the table!” Talk around town was that Tom did not win that battle.
Tom now lives in the Dryden area and he still works in the bush.
The best of the best of in the bush
It was the last day of the Walleye season and they were hitting hard and fast. It seemed like we had just got there and it was over before we started, done limited out. The birds three white sea gulls one bald headed eagle were moving in for a meal on our fish.
As we headed back toward our trucks, Andrea, Danny aka Boone, David, Matt on our sleds me on my tundra wide open at 20kms per hour. I was struck my the beauty of it all? Good friends fresh fish the trees in the forest, rocks peaking out from the snow covered landscape. The cut overs critter tracks, fressssh moose tracks that were not there two hours ago on the way in? Life in the bush, welcome to my blog, enjoy.
Lloyd
The plan is to post some of my best stroies from a column that I wrote with The Northern Sun News http://www.thenorthernsun.com/ .
Special thanks to Lori Braodfoot http://www.media-galori.com/ who was one of my editors.
As we headed back toward our trucks, Andrea, Danny aka Boone, David, Matt on our sleds me on my tundra wide open at 20kms per hour. I was struck my the beauty of it all? Good friends fresh fish the trees in the forest, rocks peaking out from the snow covered landscape. The cut overs critter tracks, fressssh moose tracks that were not there two hours ago on the way in? Life in the bush, welcome to my blog, enjoy.
Lloyd
The plan is to post some of my best stroies from a column that I wrote with The Northern Sun News http://www.thenorthernsun.com/ .
Special thanks to Lori Braodfoot http://www.media-galori.com/ who was one of my editors.
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