Little Bow – A Short Trip To The Satellites And The Stars And Some WEF Financed Alberta Greenwashing
Motorcycle Vapors . Poly Tics . Social Studies***WARNING – Absurd and acerbic content
September 16-17, 2026 – Kilometers Travelled – A holy crap! Only 506 Kilometers!
Maybe nothing happened over these two days. Maybe I had no thoughts about anything at all. Perhaps I didn’t see anything interesting. So why did I go? Because I could, that’s why. Because things are still possible and everything remains plausible, that’s why.
McGregor Lake isn’t really a lake so it isn’t a bonus lake extension of the lake trilogy previously published. This reservoir is located 100 kilometers southeast of Calgary in Vulcan County and was built by the British-owned Canada Land and Irrigation Company in 1920. It was named after J.D. McGregor, the company’s then Canadian manager who became Lieutenant Governor of Manitoba in 1929. Can you say ‘patronage appointment’? That shit doesn’t happen these, days does it? There are proposals to have the name changed to a made up language – to this – ᐯᓈᓯᐯᒋᐊᐧᐣ or Penâsipeciwanwa, you know, because of colonialism and the Canadian Globalist Socialist U.N.D.R.I.P. Grievance Industrial Complex.
This reservoir occupies part of the Snake Valley, prehistorically, a thoroughfare for members of the roaming Blackfoot First Colony hunter gatherer tribes. The first European settlers arrived mid-nineteenth century. Ranching on these ceded territories was well established by the 1880s. Shortly after, homesteading and farming became prevalent in the valley. The rich soil and dry climate led to an interest in irrigation. Construction of this reservoir began in 1909 and two dams were built – one in the north near Milo and a second, south dam. Some of the water in the reservoir comes from the Old Man River, but a canal was also constructed to bring water from the Bow River near Carseland. This reservoir is part of the Carseland-Bow River Headworks System and is owned and operated by Alberta Environment and Parks. It delivers water to the Bow river Irrigation District in and around the Oldman River drainage basin.
Well enough of that.
I needed an escape from the UPC and PCC and CCP and the PPC pleas for donations (because they are fighting so very hard for us), invitations to tone deaf pints and politics club love-ins and delusional horsey derby days and the insincere but sustainable gaslighting of devout but deranged elbows up federalists that are using taxpayer funds to promote Forever Canadian UNDRIP unity as the current Liberal Globalist Party sells real Canadians and Canadian sovereignty out to a collapsing and never-ending proxy war-mongering NATO/EU cabal, mass uncontrolled migration and Chinese colonialist interests. I needed a break from the threat of civil unrest, financial collapse, meteorological and seismic apocalypse, Satanic nose picking, crotch grabbing, child molesting NDP and LPC socialism, and Sentimental Nationalist suicidal empathy. Whew! Sorry, not sorry about the ranting run-ons.
Even before I get moving, a song begins when I press the starter button. I roll. Cause=Time. Strombo is an arrogant, irrelevant CBC ass puppet. Press play. If you have a sound system, use it.
On a sunny and leafy still but coolish Wednesday, at one o’clock in the afternoon, after the usual checks and balances of home base, bike and body, I made for the No.2 British Sentimental Lizard People Royalty Highway south to link up with the 201 east and south, The Stony Trail, the future kettling ring road around the geo-fenced prison called Calgary. Traffic was light and even and keeping the 100 kph speed limit soon brought me to exit onto 22X and Hwy 901 east. The 901 is a relief from city limits and traffic lights and rolls me past farm lands and graveled range roads and the fragrant vapors of Strangmuir Farms. I start hitting first colony territory announced by the reduced speed limit and the warning signs to watch for pedestrians on the highway, past Siksika Flats, the Siksika Piikssapi Memorial Arbor, a powwow center, and the scattered subdivisions of mostly run down cookie cutter houses, many with boarded windows and tarps and plastic covering parts of the roof. I see a boxy looking car in my rearview mirror. As it passes I notice what appears to be a pony-tailed first colony member behind the wheel. There is a dream catcher hanging from the rearview mirror. The car is a newer model $250,000, boring shade of blue Bentley Bentayga. I hope this driver is watching for pedestrians. He’s passing me, so clearly he is entitled to drive faster than the 80 kph speed limit. I wonder if any of the $238 million given to Alberta first colony people in 2025 went towards this luxury automobile. Good golly, $40.8 billion was given to the First Colony grift in 2025 and still not a drop of safe water to drink. And still no improvements if quality of life or life expectancy, or any sign of self determination. Well, at least this is money that didn’t go to the Zelensky Ukraine/EU killing fields and laundromat.
Gleichen, pronounced /ˈɡliːʃən/ maybe, was on my Google Maps tracking radar. Is it pronounced ‘Gleeshun’? ‘Glyken’? ‘Glychen’? Is it a misuse of the German word ‘gleiche’ which is a verb meaning ‘same as’? Same as what? How about ‘gleich’ as in ‘right away’? The place was actually named after General Major Lord Edward Gleichen in 1884. A lord of what? Royal connections? Go figure. If the posh lord could see it now. I hadn’t been through this hamlet for many years, remembering it as a boarded up, graffitied gathering place for lost and government socialized first colonists. It really hasn’t changed much. I roll through the decay and stop at an abandoned park for a late lunch. I wander the space and find a nest of discarded clothing and empty vodka bottles. After lunch I slow roll to the nearest and only gas station in town to support the local community. The Siksika Convenience Store sells gas and salty sugary confection and cigarettes. The squishy machine was out of order. This is a real life working diorama of Kim’s Convenience, with one gas pump out of commission, wrapped in yellow caution tape. Kim’s Convenience was another unfunny taxpayer funded CBC propaganda sitcom meant to gaslight Canadians on how wonderful racial stereotyping multiculturalism is. Why weren’t there any sitcoms about how quaint and funny Chinese laundries could be? Anyhoo. While filling, I am approached by a stained young man wearing yellow crocs. He has whitish crusties around his lips and nostrils. I wrongly suspect he’s going to ask me for money. He says, “Hello, I love you” and “I like your bike” and “Can I come with you?, I want to come with you”. “Take me with you.” I say that I don’t have room or a helmet for him. He tells me that he loves me a few more times before I leave. I’m quite certain this young man was not under the influence of huffed gas or anything but Fetal Alcohol Syndrome or vaccine induced autism, free to roam the hamlet, greeting strangers and locals – a town host of sorts. It makes me angry and sad how these Canadians have been shabbily used and neglected and now weaponized. Seeing this ‘modern age’ first world village made me think of recent scenes of motorcycle travelers in still developing parts of Africa or Central America where people live in grass and mud huts and shanties on garbage strewn dirt roads, where tribal people are clustering around streams or watering holes, washing clothes or engaging in vital but limited commerce. They have to be wondering if there is a better life and greater opportunities elsewhere, anywhere but on their reservation. So much for the first world. Perhaps closer ties with China or the EU will lift them out of poverty and despair. Wait. Maybe next month.
I head for Cluny, passing two newer gas station squishy marts on the way, to take a short length of Hwy 1 east. I won’t talk about Cluny other than affirming that it is located in Wheatland County and that it has a liquor and cannabis store. From Cluny I take Hwy 842 north to Milo. It’s been an otherwise perfectly okay day so far. I roll through the tidy village which serves as an agricultural service community, supporting the surrounding farming and ranching regions. It has all services, including a small grocery store, a post office, and a tavern.
After Milo, Hwy 842 turns to 64 kilometers of soft dirt and deep gravel so I ended up doing a cautious 30-40 kms/hr. Settling into natural and purposeful lines of the surface at lower speeds allow me to see what is around me and think low speed thoughts. There are fewer farm holdings along this path but they are treed and orderly with oiled road fronting them to keep down the dust. These farms are more isolated. I wonder what these farmers do to relax when their long days are done. Do they sit quietly, sipping tea or beer and whiskey? Do they discuss the days successes and disappointment with their wives who do darning or knitting by candlelight? Do they watch the government propaganda mainstream news and wonder when the government regulators or the rising costs and restrictions on farming or the high cost of fuel and fertilizer that is coming to end their generational lives?
I crunch and shimmy on, alternating between a loose and a death grip on the bars.
A mule deer doe bounces across the road from right to left, it’s tail at full alert. A beautifully racked stag watches her, no doubt eager to follow once I pass. I see scattered gulls pecking and squawking over groomed and harvested fields and then come upon something I have never seen before. I see a mustering of some variety of hawk, most likely the Broad-winged Hawk which is known to form massive ‘kettles’ during migratory events. And yes, a gathering of hawks is called a ‘kettle’. I checked. There are hundreds of them, rising and settling in the stubble. Perhaps they were planning an attack on what I saw next.
I saw a massive gathering sprawl of bird killing, resource sucking, diesel guzzling wind turbines in the distance, standing still – many, many of them, generating nothing but revenue for globalist partners and stakeholders. The Buffalo Plains Wind Farm is located in Vulcan County, Alberta, It’s total investment cost was approximately $750 million for 83 turbines. That’s roughly about a million money laundering dollars per turbine. The venture is supposed to be a 495 megawatt facility, developed in 2024 by Copenhagen Infrastructure Partners. Somehow, it’s supposed to generate $75 million in local tax revenue over its 25-year operational life. It is claimed that 80-90% of a wind turbine’s mass, consisting of steel towers, aluminum, and copper can be sold for scrap while the composite blades of thermoset fiberglass resins cannot be re-cycled. Who will buy the scrap? Will tariffs apply? While the industry tries to come up with more environmentally harmful methods to re-use the materials, they are most efficiently buried in mass graves that leech forever chemicals into the soil. The 1300 tons of concrete needed to anchor the turbines will remain in situ, rendering the land useless and toxic. So much for sustainable and green and renewable energy. What is the carbon footprint of a wind turbine from manufacture to disposal? Anyone? Crickets answer. They know.
Later down the road I pass the largest solar farm I’ve ever seen glinting blackly off to the east. It’s the Travers Solar Project, Canada’s largest so far, developed by Greengate Power and built by PCL Construction in 2022. This 465 megawatt photovoltaic facility spans 3300 acres of once prime farmland, consisting of 1.3 million solar panels. It’s said to generate enough electricity to power 150,000 homes annually but Amazon has a contract to purchase the electricity. Say what?
Who is Copenhagen Infrastructure Partners? Why, they’re a globalist fund managing entity that is a partner of the World Economic Forum, the good ol’ WEF, collaborating on initiatives that address global energy and sustainability challenges needed to bring about ‘The New World Order’ the one the Canadian government is slathering for.
In Alberta?
The Alberta Utilities Commission approved both of these projects. The Alberta government regulates the AUC through the Alberta Utilities Commission Act and by appointing its Commissioners. The Lieutenant Governor in Council approves regulations and appoints AUC commissioners, while the Minister of Affordability & Utilities approves ministerial regulations.
The Alberta UCP government and the WEF are partners? I thought I heard different.
Alberta’s weeping Premier, Danielle Smith has publicly criticized the WEF, stating that she finds it “distasteful” when billionaires “brag” about controlling political leaders. In October 2022, she announced the cancellation of a health consulting agreement between AHS and the WEF, arguing that health decisions should be based on local medical experts rather than an organization led by Klaus Schwab, whom she noted is not a health professional. The dear premier once defended the unvaccinated, saying that the unvaccinated people are “the most discriminated against group that I’ve ever witnessed in my lifetime. Of course she took fire from the grievance industry collective. Arguments broke out about who had the right to be the most discriminated against and aggrieved demographic. This aside, Smith aligned herself with federal Conservative Leader PP Poilievre in refusing to participate in WEF events, declaring, “Until that organization stops bragging about how much control they have over political leaders, I have no interest in being involved with them.” Perhaps Copenhagen Infrastructure Partners are actually medical experts and solar and wind turbine projects are truly good for our health. Why was Premier Smith weeping and emotional? Perhaps she was ‘told’ how things are and how they are going to be…or else. Perhaps it was a crisis of conscience where conscience lost to incentivization or coercion.
Who knows?
Of course First Colony Settlement chiefs are also partners and stakeholders of the WEF…and now China too.
Who knew?
https://www.weforum.org/organizations/copenhagen-infrastructure-partners
“So why are ‘they’ trying to dim the sun if solar energy is the future?” – Howard
The Sunbank Solar Farm in Summerside, Prince Edward Island caught fire on September 7, 2026 and burned out of control for two weeks, prompting shelter in place orders and voluntary evacuations due to concerns over toxic air and smoke. The fire persisted due to the nature of lithium-ion batteries, which frequently undergo thermal runaway and burn self-sustainingly, resisting traditional firefighting techniques. Of course the Chief Public Health Officer apparatchik advised that air and water quality testing confirmed that there were no public health risks…kinda like the mandatory experimental vaccines that raged through its victims. The city plans to restart solar generation after the necessary inspections…kinda like the new and enhanced enhanced vaccine schedule for infants.
This just in:
Alberta is launching North America’s dedicated provincial solar panel recycling program on October 1, 2026, banning the disposal of solar panels in landfills. The initiative will be managed by the Alberta Recycling Management Authority (ARMA) and intends to recover valuable materials like glass, aluminum, silicon, and copper while building a domestic recycling industry. The program will allegedly be funded by a $14 environmental fee (tax) for each new solar panel supplied in the province. This fee is to cover the collection, transportation, and recycling costs for both new and legacy panels, ensuring that future waste management does not burden taxpayers. The fee draws criticism from renewable energy dilettantes, who whine that it is disproportionately high compared to other electronics recycling fees and could discourage investment in the sector. God forbid. Of course the fee may not be retroactive so the Travers project is exempt from paying $18.2 million in recycling fees when their panels reach end of life by 2045 and become 72,700 tons of toxic junk. Bishnoi Trucking and Waste Disposal is bidding for a contract to participate in the program.
Does net zero money laundering and greenwashing make you clean and virtuous? Perhaps not you or I, but the elite partners and stakeholders that are somehow pure and holy for their grift claim sainthood.
“In the last 20 years, the world spent $10 trillion on wind, solar, and batteries. It hasn’t made it to 3% of global energy, and it’s just driven up prices.” – U.S. Energy Secretary Chris Wright
Little Bow Provincial Park is a tidy, full service RV and tenting campground. I chose an out of the way, near the water, non-serviced spot for $31 and a full bundle of wood for $10. It’s only later that I suspect that the TFW park attendant shortchanged me $5. Shame on her if she did. Shame on me if I am wrong. I set up camp on Site 52 and then walk the path to the beach and marina where I am told I might be able to find cell and data connection. I lost connection shortly before Milo. Thank-you Fido With Rogers. Can I talk to a real person about this? I am relieved and resigned to being disconnected.
From my campsite I see some turbine blade tips peeking and turning over the valley ridge to the south. The wind dies down and the blades stop and disappear as I make my supper. The sun is starting to set. The earth was clocked at 1674 kph at the equator. This might explain my occasional dizziness. Why Sir Isaac Newton is not worshipped as a god for discovering gravity is beyond me. Anyway, of course I ran out of propane gas for my stove. Of course I was able to finish my meal over an open flame. Of course it tasted better. I stoke the fire, add some wood, and settle into my travel chair to scribble some notes in the fading light. The larger stars are already poking through the darkening blue sky. I notice a bright crescent moon in the east just above the valley ridge and track its way west as it eventually drops out of sight through the trees and then below the ridge. I am confused by this. What is turning at what speed at this latitude? What is standing still? Is this some earth/tilt rotational glitch or polar shift phenomenon that needs to be feared or ignored?
I check my phone out of habit, knowing that I am not connected but expecting miracles. I’m conflicted in feeling free and isolated and vulnerable at the same time. I check Google Maps and a blue dot pinpoints my location…and yes, location was turned on. Google knows precisely where I am where friends and family do not. I may not be able to get directions, call anyone, or check my mail or messages but it is tracking my every move. I rotate the screen adding to my befuddlement especially when trying to explore Antarctica, the forbidden land at the bottom of our sphere. Oh settle down now! Looking up at the night sky I see more stars and silent moving lights passing in straight lines. I assume those with flashing red lights are aircraft but who knows what really goes on up there. What would happen if these moving lights were to collide? Well, the Kessler Effect would occur. A satellite collision could trigger a self-sustaining chain reaction where debris from impacts creates further collisions, exponentially increasing the amount of space junk and blackouts and grid failure. A walk before sleep reveals more stars and two easily identifiable constellations I recognize from my childhood fascination with astronomy and true or not school indoctrination and exposure to Copernicus, Ptolemy, and all those other stargazers.
I wake for the third time at 5 am, after having that disturbing dream again, the one I’ll have to write about sometime. I crawl out of the tent at 6. It’s cold of course. The balaclava and glove liners I wore to bed, they comfort me. This is surely the last intentional moto-camp of the season. A thick morning fog has rolled in over the lake. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear foghorns. The anglers are still tucked away in their RVs, hungover or still dreaming of big ones. I walk to the washhouse for a quick slash and splash. Peeps and squawks of already busy birds are coming from the lake and through the trees. Inside a toilet stall I see two urgent messages scrawled in black felt pen. ‘Tanki was here!’ and ‘Wassa was here!’. Should I be impressed? Were these vandals mere defecating narcissists or did they actually have the capacity to realize that they were insignificant whisps of gas and molecules and that they had to leave their mark, their contribution, to the world…in a toilet stall. I find relief in knowing that Cascades Pro Tandem toilet paper is ‘All Clean’ and ‘All Good’. The dispenser encourages me to “Have peace of mind by using paper made from 100% recycled fibres.” I am also invited to scan the QR code for cascadespro.com. I am tempted to scan the code, download the app and contact them to find out if their products are manufactured using wind or solar energy.
The pack up goes well. A grim but satisfying thought creeps in. If I don’t do it, I’m not going anywhere. It’s like anything else in life. Breakfast is warm wash house tap water instant coffee, because of course I can’t boil water, an orange, and an energy bar, and the last of the dates.
I stop at the washhouse again to brush my teeth and refill my water bottle and wipe down the windscreen. There’s nobody around so I quickly lube my chain. I suit up, opting to put on the extra top layer of my drysuit to ward off the morning chill. After a slow roll through the rest of the park I stop at the marina just to see if there is any signal being the addict I am. The only signs of life are some early morning boat launchers and fisher folk. The fog has cleared and I make my way out and up the trail to connect with Hwy 529. I notice the gated Travers Ridge RV Resort up and off to the left. Memories and legacies are being made there. The sky is clear blue with scattered clouds. My brilliant machine takes me west.
Did some morning music pop in from somewhere for a visit? Yes it did. Why alien 80’s alt-pop? I don’t know.
Press play.
I see the sign for Champion. I’d never been there before, so why not? The area was first settled by homesteaders from eastern Canada, the U.S. and Britain circa 1904 and experienced rapid growth because of the rich farming and ranch lands. The first of many coal mines opened in 1906 which added to the activity in the area. A prominent homesteader named Martin Clever donated land to the development of shops and services and the settlement of Cleverville took root. The CPR came through to service the community and the coal mine and agricultural operations. The settlement was picked up, buildings and all, and moved to where the railway stopped and was renamed Champion. Champion became a town in 1911 and received its first grain elevator in 1912. Champion was once touted to be a city of the future because it had a lot going for it. This is typical of how Canada was settled and grew to its now fading glory. The tidy village of Champion is still hanging on with full services to a core population of around 350 souls and still draws from the surrounding agricultural community. They still have a school. There is evidence of attempted and stalled revitalization to the main street buildings including the Champion Savoy Hotel which was quite the hot spot in its day as a railway stop and agricultural, coal, and oil and gas center. As I was leaving from the town’s truly faded and weedy Canadian heritage memorial of grain elevators, trains and rich coal history, a string of rumbling rusty train engines pulling a long line of graffitied grain and chemical and mineral cars rolls by, blasting it’s mournful warning toll.
The rest of the trip home was a necessary joy really. I had to get home to meet a friend to go on an important mission to Emerald Lake, B.C. the following day. Every shift and twist was perfect. The weather was ideal for riding. Crops were being pulled. Combines and grain haulers were in full swing. Chafe dust was roiling. Grain baggers were laying out their temporary horizontal plastic silos to allow farmers to keep their combines moving by providing immediate storage on the the field, avoiding the need for immediate transport to permanent or transitional grain bins. The last of the RVs and power boats were going home to storage, perhaps for the last time.
From Champion I take Hwy 23 north winding past Kircaldy and yet another solar farm in the area, this time the Vulcan Solar Project – Concord. This 15 MW facility shows up on https://majorprojects.alberta.ca/ as Fortis Vulcan 255S DER Solar. It indicates that the project was cancelled in 2025 but there it is. A mystery to be solved or ignored.
I stop in Vulcan, known as the ‘Official Star Trek Capital of Canada’ to top up the tank. Vulcan was named by a surveyor for the Canadian Pacific Railway after Vulcan, the Roman God of Fire. Gas was $1.89/liter or $1.17 Roman Euros/liter. The Starship Enterprise was primarily powered by a matter-antimatter reaction within a warp core, where deuterium (matter) annihilates with antideuterium (antimatter). This reaction is regulated by dilithium crystals which prevent the antimatter from touching the reactor walls and converts the resulting energy into electro-plasma for propulsion and ship systems. I wonder if there will be a cheap and green fuel available to us after gasoline becomes unavailable to us common folk. Are there grey half aliens in Vulcan? I won’t talk about the possible feminist middle-aged Subaru Outback driving hipster wannabe wearing high hip faded denim jeans and a crisp button down dress shirt with short bleach blonde hair and a sea turtle neck tattoo who only needed a special Esso espresso coffee. And yes, Leonard Nimoy beamed down to Vulcan on April 23, 2010 during a trip to Calgary for a comic convention. The crooner/actor, who portrayed Spock in Star Trek, was breathlessly welcomed as a non-homecoming hero by thousands of residents and fans in the town that shares the name of his character’s home planet. How could any town live up to or live down that?
I leave Vulcan at less than warp speed.
There is really nothing out of the ordinary on this run from Vulcan. It’s all pleasurable business with the occasional bouts of bum shifting and gratitude for the good weather and the whirling hopeful and uncomfortable thoughts that blow through with every kilometer.
I move on and carry on up Hwy 23 north, cross the 542 and then link up to Hwy 24 north which winds me through Mossleigh. The 24 north transitions to 817 north which takes me through Strathmore. I shift and throttle and stop and go until I make it through town. After Strathmore I take 564 west to Hwy 9 north to 567 west and through The United Nations NDP Socialist enclave of Airdrie.
I arrive at home sweet treaty land house and home that I pay taxes on, that I do not actually own…apparently.
Two days. One night. Last camp. So much to consider.
What about next year?
Do I renew my passport and motorcycle insurance, and do I buy new tires for my brilliant machines with confidence that I will be traveling next year?
Damn rights!
How about a bonus track? Ride and twist to this bit of brilliant 90’s dreampop.
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