August, 28th, 2003 - A very humbling trip through Barriere, BC:

We leave on this short Slug-style commando raid the way we always do; in two separate mini-vans... but that's where the similarities to other short trips ends... Doug, as neurotic as ever, decides that, because of the recent forest fires in some of the areas along the way, it may be better to get to Grande Prairie by skirting around Australia... okay, not that far out of the way, just through Prince George... luckily for me, I'm in the other van... the van that goes the usual route, through Jasper... the van that arrives approximately 3 hours earlier than the other one... that van...

Jay, Chris and I leave midday, and it's still light out when we drive through Barriere - probably the worst hit town by an unforgiving fire... and none of us are prepared for what we see there... The only word for it is devastation... miles of charred soil, covered with what used to be trees - now burnt twigs, lying everywhere... and once in awhile, a lone tree, standing miraculously untouched by the blaze, as if the fire would purposely leave a cruel reminder of what used to be... and, of course, that's just the start of it... that's what you see when entering Barriere... before you get to the town... what used to be the town... another word is depression, and you can't help feeling a little of it when you're driving through... the road underneath is the only thing left untouched... The evacuation order has been lifted now, and some of the less unfortunate who still have a house standing, have started to filter back in... but their neighbours are gone, the people they knew and loved, all gone... most of the town, gone. I'm reminded of the odd solitary trees at the entrance to the town... a house, seemingly untouched, stands alone inside a maze of burned cars, buses, and cement foundations... but there's activity there... people mill around the front stoop of the house, cleaning up, assessing damage etc. It makes me think of another 'D' word - despair... and I get a strange feeling of pride - pride of the human race and its resiliency - because I don't see that word anywhere. Maybe the solitary tree isn't a cruel reminder; maybe it's a sign of rebuilding. The people I see from the road aren't commiserating, they're not empty shells of who they were before... they've just got a job to do... plain and simple... they're rebuilding their lives. This fire will always be remembered as a harsh consequence of human carelessness. But the ground will grow again, stronger than before. It will take some time, but there will be trees here again. And as those trees are growing, so too, will the community that once lived here. Let the fire also serve to remind us of the strength and courage of the human spirit. My best wishes and heartfelt admiration to the people - the spirit - of Barriere.

I started out writing a road diary entry, and ended up with this, but I won't apologize for that... I'll be back later to write about what ends up being a great gig in Grande Prairie... it just doesn't seem that important right now. Take care. Marc.