Hysteria!

For the last week all that has led news from around the globe is the Mexican Swine Flu. I know I am getting a little tired of it. Assignment desks everywhere are in full panic mode.

Here at World Wide Murman headquarters, we feel that we need to do our part in spreading the hysteria. So at WWM we are raising our Swine/Avian / Day Flu alert level to Code Orange.

I repeat Code Orange.

We also feel a message that has been clearly lost in the last couple of days is the most basic one:

WASH YOUR FUCKING HANDS PEOPLE!

and If you are not feeling well,

STAY THE HELL HOME!

There you go, simple yet effective. How hard was that?

Now go forth and "spread" no more.

Grant

A week and a half ago the shooting fraternity in Vancouver lost part of its soul with the passing of former CITY TV Cameraman, Grant Wyatt.

I met Grant when I first arrived in Vancouver from the east coast. He was shooting for CKVU and I was at the new "upstart" station in Vancouver, VTV. Right away he treated me as one of the gang, never as the "new guy" at the new station. When ever I would run into him out in the field, he always made me laugh and his presence at a shoot always made it more enjoyable.

There was a gathering at a local watering hole, this past Friday night to celebrate Grant's life. The place was full and there was still a hundred people wanting to get in.

The following You Tube Video is a tribute to Grant, lovingly prepared by his friends at CKVU/CITY TV in Vancouver. It gives you a glimpse of the wonderful persona that was Grant Wyatt.

I miss him.

Junopallooza

Gary Tapp cabling to the Magical Land of Television

It has been a very busy 6 weeks or so. With the build up to next years Winter Olympic Games in Vancouver and all of the hoopla associated with it, our special events operations team has been going full bore.

Scooter running Cables

This week the Junos has brought it's circus to town. For those of you not familiar of what a "Juno" is let me explain. Think "Grammy" but Canadian. Yes it's Canada's Music Awards and the show itself is a CTV Network property.

OK - CTV property- I work for a local CTV station- oh oh , its gonna get crazy busy!

The Set on Granville


Rob, Big Dave (on the phone) and Tapper in the SAT Truck

We are now into day 3 of Juno Fest and our show has located itself in the heart of the Entertainment district on Granville Street. It has been quite a gig. Men and resources moving tons of metal and electronic gear, plugging and playing, lighting and shooting, uplinking and transmitting, hoping that when it all comes out at the other end it resembles a Television Show.

The "Mur-monitor"

Stress is high, especially for those who plan these TV field trips. These forays into the streets are not inexpensive. You can see it in the face of our Exec Producer. His over functioning brain must be near the melt down temperature. The trick is to be as far away from the blast radius if it happens.

Jimmy and Coleen on set

Scotty (Scooter) Connerton on Weather Cam

But technically things are going just fine. This is an experienced crew. We have all worked together before and for whatever reason this field adventure has been surprisingly routine and relatively easy on the cardiovascular system.

Wade on Jib

Gary (Barndtman) Barndt on Handheld/ Camera 2 Stage

But wait, it's only day three of four, oh crap when is the other shoe gonna fall?

Stay tuned, but for now, I'm taking cover.

The Junofest Remote Crew at the "Magical Land of Television"

Step One

It has been a long long while since I have had the inclination to sit down an pound out an entry into this blog. The reasons are many and personal. But I am back and although out of practice, I am going to attempt to get back on the horse and put thought to page at least once a week.

When I began this blog thing three years ago, it was a vehicle to bring my family and my colleagues at CTV British Columbia with me, so to speak, as I traveled to Turin Italy for the 2006 Torino Winter Olympic Games.
I tried to tell my experiences through humorous stories.
It became kinda fun and for whatever reason folks out there in the web-o-sphere seemed to enjoy my rants and adventures. Comments left only encouraged me.

But as time wore on, I discovered like anything, contributing to a Blog on a regular basis takes commitment and discipline. Most days I lacked both and in the last year I found it difficult to concentrate on my musings.

I am back now and God willing, I'll find my words again, but the first step is acknowledging the problem. And the problem was my lack of energy.

So thank you for being patient. I am now going to go and fight to get my "A" game back and continue World Wide Murman - Adventures in News Gathering.

New Year's Eve 2008

Well good God, will the snow never end??? Yes my friends, we here in Vancouver got walloped by winter these past weeks. You have to remember municipal authorities some years ago traded their snow removal equipment for some magic beans and a promise of tropical weather.

Let me tell you that snow of any accumulation makes for news here in these parts and these weeks weather and weather related phenomenon have been the top stories for the past 25 days.

Snowplows or lack there of, cars stuck, airports shut down, stranded travelers over Christmas, now that's THUNDERDOME!


I just wanted to survive the holidays. I only had a few days off and by the time Christmas eve rolled around I had had enough of being wet and miserable shooting the daily sausage.

But the weather would not let up. And I still had another two weeks before I would return to my beloved hangar and the skies over Vancouver.

The holidays bring out the masses to the ski hills. In those masses there is usually one or two folks that get themselves into some difficulty and they then require a search and a rescue. This year would be no different and with all of the heavy snow, the lure of the back country is just too great for some.
The heavy snow triggered avalanche warnings from one side of this great Province to the other.

The first weekend after Christmas, news of a massive slide with fatal results, dispatched many from our news room to a town near Fernie, BC. I was not on that crew and was grateful for having missed that one. A grief stricken town is not what any of us wanted over the Christmas break.

Nope I was back on the ground, filing the daily items that would fill up the show after the numerous items from Fernie.

Sending a number of staff out of town on such a story is a necessary thing. The by- product is however, fewer to look after the rest with an already holiday reduced roster. Somewhere in the system, someone has to pay the toll on the numbers game. This occasion, it was our Air Op's that would ante up.
Leaving the the flying machine without a crew is risky. It's a gamble. It can also bite you if you are not careful. That week, the weather was marginal, so the risk seemed acceptable.

My mornings would begin with a scan of the local radio news to get an idea of what was in store for me on that day. Weather, Fernie and what's this? A missing snowboarder off of Mount Seymour.
Damn, I thought, this would be a good item from the air. Search aircraft, perhaps a rescue. More like a recovery, but you gotta keep positive.
I quickly remembered it was Pete's week in the air. I later learned he had been reassigned to make up for the short fall back in Vancouver.
I really didn't give the search much more thought. The weather was kinda low anyway for flight. I went about my business and shot some VSV and some streeters and interviews for a dreaded year ender that one of the reporters were putting together. By that time it was almost 2:30 and time for a break. I just happened to be sitting by the news desk when word of "Snow Boarder Found" came to us via our scanners. The fellow had been missing for more than 3 days and in my experience after 3 days usually means a corpse off of Suicide Gully, the place where the young man went missing.

"Murray! We need you to get to the helicopter now! They are going to long line the boarder off the mountain!"
I felt bad for a brief moment, knowing that this should be Pete's gig, but he was already on his way up the side of that Mountain with a Live Truck and Gary, the other heli op, was way out east and too far away.
"He's alive!" Lisa the acting assignment editor exclaimed.
Her words added urgency to my calls to our pilot.
The next thing I knew I was in the air and headed to the side of Mount Seymour with Guiv our trusty Talon Pilot.

Guiv lands at the Harbour Helipad

He was in contact with Kelsey another Talon Pilot who was flying the rescue mission on this day.
Guiv tells me that the rescue is still about 20 minutes from happening and that Kelsy was just getting the long line attached to the helicopter at the Bone Creek works yard.
We arrived on the scene. Kelsy was just about to lift off and take a rescue tech and a spotter on the short flight to the rescue area.
I had my FLIR locked on his aircraft and tapes rolling in the machine. Wow this day sure took an interesting turn.
The weather had just cleared enough to allow a brief helicopter search. Tracks had been spotted and ground rescue techs from North Shore Search and Rescue, followed the tracks and found the young man seeking shelter under a tree. Cold and hungry, some say near the end of his endurance. If he had not been found, then surely he would not have lived to see the New Year.

Kelsy maneuvered his aircraft, and the tech attached to the long line, carefully down and into the trees and the small clearing where the ground team was located. After pin point delivery of a stretcher and the dangling rescue tech. Kelsy took an orbiting position nearby.

My FLIR watched as rescuers prepared the young man to his trip to hospital and to salvation from certain death of hypothermia.
Again Kelsy positioned the Talon Helicopter's AStar into a hover over the scene, carefully lowering the line. Then all at once, with a signal from the ground tech secured to the long line, Kelsy pulled power into the collective and put the odd looking rescue machine into a climb, above the trees and began the short flight back to the Bone Yard and to awaiting ambulance.
As I zoomed in and followed the pair dangling from Kelsy's long line, the lad in the stretcher looks right into my lens and smiles. He knows the danger is now over. He and his rescuers are delivered with precision to the awaiting medical team and transported to Vancouver General Hospital.

A shot out my window of the scene at the Bone Yard. The rescue had been so quick and busy on the FLIR, I did not have any chance to snap a few pics.

A happy ending for a week that had already claimed several young men near Fernie.
And that is how I spent my last flight of 2008, in the skies watching a rescue unfold. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Oh Canada

Once in a while someone does a nice job of describing a Canadian, this time it was an Australian dentist.

An Australian Definition of a Canadian. In case anyone asks you who a Canadian is . . .

** **Proud to be Canadian -An Australian Definition of a Canadian -Written by an Australian Dentist

You probably missed it in the local news, but there was a report that someone in Pakistan had advertised in a newspaper an offer of a reward to anyone who killed a Canadian - any Canadian. An Australian dentist wrote the following editorial to help define what a Canadian is, so they would know one when they found one.A Canadian can be English, or French, or Italian, Irish, German, Spanish, Polish, Russian or Greek. A Canadian can be Mexican, African, Indian, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Australian, Iranian, Asian, Arab, Pakistani or Afghan.A Canadian may also be a Cree, Métis, Mohawk, Blackfoot, Sioux, or one of the many other tribes known as native Canadians. A Canadian's religious beliefs range from Christian, Jewish, Buddhist, Muslim, Hindu or none. In fact, there are more Muslims in Canada than in Afghanistan. The key difference is that in Canada they are free to worship as each of them chooses. Whether they have a religion or no religion, each Canadian ultimately answers only to God, not to the government, or to armed thugs claiming to speak for the government and for God.A Canadian lives in one of the most prosperous lands in the history of the world. The root of that prosperity can be found in the Charter of Rights and Freedoms which recognize the right of each person to the pursuit of happiness.A Canadian is generous and Canadians have helped out just about every other nation in the world in their time of need, never asking a thing in return. Canadians welcome the best of everything, the best products, the best books, the best music, the best food, the best services and the best minds. But they also welcome the least - the oppressed, the outcast and the rejected.These are the people who built Canada. You can try to kill a Canadian if you must as other blood-thirsty tyrants in the world have tried but in doing so you could just be killing a relative or a neighbour. This is because Canadians are not a particular people from a particular place. They are the embodiment of the human spirit of freedom. Everyone who holds to that spirit, everywhere, can be a Canadian.

It says it all, for all of us.

'Keep your stick on the ice'

Covered Bridges and Cable Ferries

It has been a few weeks since getting back from my trip to the home and native land. These weeks have given me a chance to reflect on being a tourist in one's own home town.

Often returning back to one's place of birth can be an exhausting experience. Family obligations, making time with old friends and just getting caught up can drain you. This did happen some years ago on my first visit back. I was so spent, that getting back to work was welcomed, just so I could get some rest.

This time was different. Through hook or by crook, I found a balance. That balance involved spending sometime by myself experiencing the beauty of my home province.

It wasn't unusual for me to get up at first light, and jump into my rented wheels and head off to who knows where to bang off a few frames on my trusty Nikon. Before I knew it I had fired some 1500 frames on this trip and I wanted to share some of them with you, my loyal reader.

So please bare with me as I give to you the dreaded vacation photo album. After this I promise to get back to writing about all things news gathering.

Early morning Ferry Line up at Gondola Point. There are several cable ferries up and down the Saint John and Kennibecasis Rivers in New Brunswick. They are all free and they are a great way to see the province. This particular one takes vehicles from Gondola Point to the Kingston Peninsula.

On this particular morning, my sister and I took a ferry over to Kingston so I could capture some of the fall colors. The trip also provided us with some quality brother sister time.

Fall colors and the Anglican Church at Kingston in the background. The weather for my trip was magnificent as we pressed on toward Hampton and the Yankee Shore.

Driving along the back roads of Hampton NB. Just ahead is a view of one of my favorite places on this earth, the Kennebicasis Marsh.

The Marsh where I learned to duck hunt with my Grandfather, Father and Uncle. I spent a good deal of time on that day just drinking it all in and remembering how breath taking the sun rises were on those October "Opening Day" of the hunting seasons, from our blinds on a grassy island in the center of that marsh. I had been tagging along with my Dad since I was 8. My first trip up to the marsh; when I was 4. I remember cutting my finger on the long marsh grass and as a child I called the place "The Sharp Grass".

But no trip back would have been complete without some time on the coast. The Bay of Fundy rarely disappoints and on this trip her salty air and slight breeze enabled me to enjoy her many coves and harbours.

Fundy's mighty tide is on it's way out, leaving St. Martin's harbour empty. You can see a covered bridge crossing the channel. Local fishermen were getting ready for the up coming lobster season.

With the tide going out boat are left grounded. Its a good time for hull inspection.

Driving through one of the many covered bridges I encountered during my travels. at one time New Brunswick boasted the most covered bridges in the world. Many of them are gone, but the ones remaining all date back to the early part of the last century. This one is located at St. Martins New Brunswick, as I head back to Saint John to check out the City Market.

Inside the Saint John City Market. It's one of the oldest markets in Canada.

A friendly fish monger at Lord's Lobsters inside the Saint John City Market, shows the camera the catch of the day.

Yes it was a great trip. One that allowed me to appreciate the place that I have come from, to appreciate the culture and heritage of being a Maritimer.

The Beat Down

GOLF. A four letter word to some. Aggravating pastime for others. Still a game that a 70 year old Dad can play with his middle aged sons.

My brother and I first picked up the clubs in our late teens. We have been battling each other ever since. Good fun really. But family bragging rights are just that, rights.

My father watched his sons battle years ago before deciding to try his hand at this irritating pastime. When he first joined brother Dan and I on the course over 25 years ago, we didn't pay much attention to him or his score. You see the Titus brothers were there to settle their own war on the fairways of new Brunswick. This was an annual event that was always the highlight of Dan's visit from New Jersey.

Dad about to drain this shot for a par

Then one winter, dear ol' Dad secretly took golf lessons at the local club. When asked what aspect of the game he wanted to work on, his answer was quite direct to his instructor.

"I just want to beat my sons!"

Father Murman with a classic "I'm winning" smile.

Later the following summer, with the brothers again set to do mortal combat with drivers and putters, maybe a wedge or two, Father teed off the opening shot of the annual Titus Golf Classic. It was a straight shot, not particularly long, but it was the beginning of something that the bro's didn't even notice.

Dan reacts to a fairway wood second shot

This went on for the entire 18 holes. Pressure between Brother Dan and Brother Mur was intense. The trash talk never wained. It was a see/saw battle of Augustan proportions (well in our minds anyway).

It's in the hole! (for a 6)

Meanwhile, Father Titus, just kept his ball in play watching his sons beat the hell out of each other.

Brother Dan attempts a long par putt, but wilts under the pressure

As is the usual case the score between brothers was updated every couple of holes and added up as we were about to tee off on 18. Senior Titus score wasn't even thought of as the boy thought the old man was not a factor.

@#$%! Golf is a four letter word alright!

Then as the final putt makes that heavenly sound of golf ball in cup, we add all the scores. It looks like it will be a close one. There are checks and re checks. Then Dad takes the score card, both brothers trust their father to be the final arbiter of the match.
He adds Dan's score, then Murray's and announces himself as the winner, by not one, but by 9 strokes.

The brothers look bewildered. It seems they were too focused on each others game, dismissing dear old Dad as an also ran.

He's been kicking our asses on the course ever since.


He tells me it was the best 150 dollars (for the lessons) he has ever spent.
And on the occasion of his 70th birthday, we rekindled that old classic and wouldn't you know, the Old Man's still got game.


He crushed us both.

Danni, Dad and Me after we had been crushed after 18 holes at Hampton

Surprise! You're 70.

Do you remember when you were back in grade school and the first assignment of the new school year was a composition about your summer vacation?

Well I just got back from mine, and I know it's not summer, but is was my vacation. One I needed for a very long time.

I chose to return to my hometown, a place I have not been for nearly a decade. I have family still there, as well as many friends. But what made the choice an obvious one was that my father, whom I have not seen for over 9 years, was turning 70, and the occasion of his birthday would present a great opportunity for me to surprise him.

My brother, who lives and works in New Jersey, and my sister, still living just outside my hometown would help spring the surprise.

As the date of my arrival approached, there was concern that my father would catch wind of my coming. A phone call to him just a day before I boarded an east bound plane, confirmed to me that he was completely unaware of my plans.

I would be spending some time in Toronto, before travelling on the last leg of the journey back to New Brunswick. The time there provided me with some much needed rest and relaxation before heading into the "family circus" that all home comings seem to evolve into.

Flying into Saint John on that autumn Wednesday evening, clear skies, and spectacular fall colors greeted me as we made our approach into the small town airport. I recognized many of the land marks. The lakes, the hill tops, the skyline all familiar, all inviting. My sister met me as I got off the plane, with a welcoming hug that still lingers to this day.
"You are going to have to hide for two days until Dad's surprise party." she said to me.
"Hide in this town? This town is too small, someone is bound to recognize me." I replied.
And with that we were off to drop off my bags at her place.

My nephew joined us at the house and we decided to go get a bite to eat. Vito's Pizza Restaurant, a local favorite and makers of the best Cesar salad anywhere, was where we headed.

I was not in the place for two minutes, when a familiar face said hello. A former hockey coach and friend of our family, Dr. Lou Simon. After the hello's and handshakes, I look to my sister and say: "see I can't hide here, we need to come up with a plan to surprise Dad before his big day."

Oh yes, by the way the Pizza and Cesar were fantastic!

The revised plan now would happen on the following evening. Brother Dan, who my father knew was coming for a visit, would meet Dad for dinner. My sister Carrie would join them a short time later. Dan and Carrie would make sure Dad's back was to the door and that's when I would walk in and sit down beside him.

Geeze, I hope that his heart is in good shape, surprising a 70 year old might not be the smartest thing for the preservation of life.
The plan was set. Dad was in place. I made my entry into the restaurant. I tapped him on the shoulder, and said "Happy Birthday Dad."

The Surprise as seen through the lens of my sister Carrie's Camera

Happy Birthday Dad! Surprise!

The shock didn't kill him, thank God, but the look I shall always remember. He wiped a tear as did I. It was the first time in 12 years that he had all of his children together. It was a moment I shall treasure forever.

Dad and Me

The next couple of days would include rounds of Golf, the "Official" surprise party, this time with all of Dad's brothers and sister, neighbours and friends and a Thanksgiving dinner at my father's. Plenty of rare quality time, without the separation of geography.

Murman, Dad, Carrie and Dan all together for the first time in 12 years

BIG FIRE

There is nothing like covering a large fire from the air. They are visual, they can be compelling and down right intoxicating. I have had two such fires in recent weeks.

The first was of an old soon to be renovated mental hospital in New Westminster, BC. The day was calm and clear and the fire provided a welcome break in the summertime "blahs" that had set in. I seem to remember getting the call from my desk just after lunch. A 2 alarm fire being upgraded to a 3 as we launched into the air. A cross street address was not needed as the smoke plume was visible from our hanger.

A shot out my window of CTV Chopper 9 over the Old Hospital as it burns

Off we went, heading straight to the plume. Flames were jumping skyward hundreds of feet. It was a big one. The complex was a large one and as fire fighters tried to battle the blaze, the flames continued to find new fuel and eventually spread to it's outer wings. Before long, the entire complex was a blaze.

Another look of the Fire scene in New Westminster earlier this summer

It was a spectacular sight. The heat was immense. Even at 1700ft we found ourselves dodging the odd piece of flaming debris. I managed to bang off a few shots on my Nikon between hits.

When it was over the blaze took most of the old complex.

This week yielded another BIG FIRE. This one in Surrey. A condo development as it was nearing completion. Again, the call from the desk. Again a plume that could be seen for miles.

The tell tail plume of smoke as we leave YVR. Frame grab CTV CHOPPER 9

No need for further directions. When we arrived it was fully involved. Aircraft buzzed around. To get the whole story on this one follow this link BIG FIRE

Frame grab from my FLIR Camera as we appoach the scene

Fire crews pour water over the inferno. Frame grab CTV Chopper 9

Close up shot of the heavy lift crane operator's cab as it bursts into flame. There were no injuries.

Wide shot of the complex as Phase II of the project burns to the ground.