A new plane, an old dog and lots of little bears
Apologies for my long silence. I'd like to say that after my four-part magnum opus on bears in Romania in December I had said all there was to say about bears, at least for a while.
But the truth is more prosaic. There has simply been so much going on in the world that I have been struggling to keep up with my Back to the Front newsletter covering Ukraine, Russia, Europe and, increasingly and by necessity, Donald Trump.
And then there is the fact that the lodge, at this time of year, is happily buried under a blanket of snow and fairly inert.
Occasionally, when I am feeling wistful I tune into one of the security cameras (the lodge is empty of humans right now), stare at the snow and feel a pang when I see the peacefulness of it all. And I long to be back there among the dripping trees and the slow-flowing river.
And then I shake myself out of my reverie and return to my hectic winter life: classes for university students in Hungary, journalistic forays into Ukraine, days spent on a Dutch barge next to Tower Bridge in London (home to my partner Kim), and long hours in the reading rooms of the British Library (one of my very favourite places.)
Meanwhile Katya - my now eight-year-old German Shepherd - lives the winter in snowy happiness in Nelson, two hours south of the lodge, with my good friends Keinan and Mariposa, who spoil her far more than I do.
In the meantime, however, some items of news.
The first noteworthy development is that I am in the process of buying a new airplane.
For those of you who have followed my aerial adventures (and one spectacular mishap) this may come as a surprise. One of the things in life I unreservedly adore is my 1957 Piper Super Cub, a raggedy old bush plane with tyres that are nearly three feet high.
For eight years now I have roamed the valleys and mountains of south-western Canada in her, flown her along the edge of glaciers, and headed up with the rising sun into indigo skies.
She's been my pride, my therapy, and at least some of the reason that I have no pension to speak of and will probably have to work until I am 90 years old.
There is a lot to love in the Cub. She's not shiny, or beautiful, or comfortable. And she probably has more screws missing than in place. But she's a bird with character and can take off and land at a little over 35 mph.
Nevertheless the time has come for her to go. There are a number of reasons.
First off, Kim wants to learn to fly. And sitting in the back of the Cub might be fun but it does not make for a steep learning curve.
She has a big heart but a small-to-medium frame and all she can see when peering forward is my hulking shoulders and, if she really cranes her neck, one side of the airspeed indicator.
The new plane, by contrast, has four seats, including two side-by-side in the front. (It also has a perfect little space in the back for Katya.) It even has modern amenities such as fuel gauges. The cub just had little plastic floats - and one of them was missing.
Regrets or not, the decision has been made. I have already put down a hefty deposit and as I write the new plane is going through a pre-purchase inspection at the hands of an airplane mechanic in northern Alberta.
Every few hours I am getting a little report with fresh flaws: a cracked window here, a bent aileron there, some chipping of the paint, wear on the fabric. But the engine appears to be solid.
And, anyway, who wants a shiny new airplane in the Canadian bush. The thing is only going to get bashed and dirty with what I will put it through.
It sounds like I may, in any case, soon be a citizen of the 51st state of America and so - before I volunteer for the local militia tasked with keeping Yankee troops out of our remote little valley - I might as well make the most of the time I have left.
My new steed - assuming the purchase passes off without incident - should be about ready for pick-up when I get back to Canada in April. Rocky, my friend, has offered to keep the Cub in his hangar for a bit until I can find a loving new owner.
And then, this summer, it's off for a trip around BC in the new plane. It's called a Maule and - according to the book - is capable of a glorious 120 mph, a big step up from the 80 mph that I got when I floored it in the Cub.
Of course, threats that us Canadians might become Americans - and not by choice - as well as the fate of poor, valiant Ukraine, have been taking up a lot of global oxygen recently. Indeed there are days when I feel light-headed just scanning the morning news.
Amidst all this brouhaha - and the worst of it is he might just mean what he says - I have also been attending to the new documentary film I made with some friends and my daughter Emma.
We first showed it last spring to the Kosovo family that is the subject of the film. And then it premiered at Dokufest, a small festival in the southern Kosovo town of Prizren. (A gorgeous Turkish-era settlement if you ever get the chance...)
And now we will be showing it in London at the Frontline Club. The date has been set for April 23rd. After the screening we will have a discussion, take questions and then no doubt convene for a drink or two at the club's storied bar.
(We would love to see you there. You can book tickets by clicking here. If you can’t make it the film is also available to watch online here.)
And so, lastly, back to the matter of the bears. They are, as I write, still sleeping. But not for long. The big males should be waking in a few weeks, and the females soon after. Come the end of next month even the mums with cubs should be stirring.
Given our record huckleberry crop last year we should have a record number of cubs out and about this year.
If you are tempted, we have a few spots left in 2025 - both in May and in October - though some dates are already fully booked. And we have also just opened booking for 2026 if you want something distant to look forward to in these turbulent times.
You can drop me a line on julius@wildbearlodge.ca. We will be delighted to have you come and stay. Just one word of advice in these febrile times: don’t bring an American flag!
Good to hear from you again, it has been awhile. It has been an easy winter here in the beautiful Kootenays! A friend of mine who lives across the River from your Lodge tells me that the river is really low this Spring. Good luck with the new plane!