spjournal.com: Opinion

OUR VIEWS

Eating fresh, local foods is the way to go

By Janice Huser
Journal Staff

This past weekend, I took the opportunity to attend the Apple Blossom Tea at the En Sante winery, located near Lac Sante. At the tea, it became obvious that the Chrapko family, who is already known for their entrepreneurial and pioneering sprit, has once again managed to impress.

The winery is the only organic winery in Alberta, and is the beginning of what the family hopes will become a new industry in Alberta. Although I couldn’t actually taste the wine, I watched as other people enjoyed the unique tasting products.

At one point, Tonia, daughter to Elizabeth Chrapko, joked to the many people in attendance that the wine being tasted wasn’t available for sale. Immediately, shoulders throughout the room sunk in disappointment, but a laugh from Tonia assured people that she was in fact just joking.

I think one of the overall messages that came across during the wine tasting/tea at the Chrapko’s orchard was that organic and locally grown food is again becoming more and more popular in our society. Eating foods that aren’t sprayed with chemicals, and haven’t been sitting in the back of a truck for days is how past generations once thrived, and I think it’s the way we should continue to thrive.

As someone who has to be avid about reading ingredient labels on the food I purchase because my husband has some pretty severe reactions to a number of preservatives in foods, I feel that what the Chrapko family is doing out at their orchard is something people will appreciate.

And despite the rainy, cold weather out at the orchard on Sunday afternoon, a number of people, some from Edmonton, Wetaskiwin, and beyond, took to the roads and, with their umbrellas in hand, toured the orchard, tasted wine in the winery cellar, and then enjoyed possibly the best homemade apple pie ever.

One of the ways the Chrapko family first started selling their wine was at Farmer’s Markets, which is another way I choose to shop when I have the opportunity. I will admit, I did not inherit my grandmother’s gardening genetics, but I do enjoy the fresh produce that comes out of my parents’ garden, and I admire anyone who has the talents and patience to grow their own food.

I think the benefits of eating locally grown food are most obvious in children. My three-year-old son is a seriously picky eater. But, I am thankful he will eat fresh fruits and vegetables. His preference for fresh fruits (he could live off of saskatoons in the backyard when they’re in season if given the opportunity, but refuses to eat store-bought blueberries) is incredibly obvious.

I once purchased a batch of strawberries that I think had been either sprayed with some type of chemical to force the fruits to ripen, or had some other unfortunate event happen to them. My son refused to eat the fruit, and complained of his mouth feeling funny. He even stayed away from strawberries (which is by far his favourite food) for a few days, unsure of the funny feeling.

On Monday morning, as I uncovered the few plants I do have at home, after attempting to shield them from the nasty weekend weather, I noticed a couple strawberries had weathered the storm and were looking perfectly ripe, something I’m sure my son would completely enjoy later that day.

OUR VIEWS

While some people finished the canoeing and went on to bike in the cold and wet weather during last Saturday's Riverland Challenge, others called it quits after the wet slog down the North Saskatchewan River.

Riverland Challenge gets best of me

By Janani Whitfield
Journal Staff

In the midst of pouring rain, wind and cold, Tom and I are weakly paddling down the North Saskatchewan River and shouting at one another, and thoughts of pitching him overboard are not too far from my mind.

It’s a far cry from the idyllic visions I had of floating peacefully down the river on a sunny day with my husband and daughter when I first signed us up for last Saturday’s Riverland Challenge – a 10 km canoe ride, 5 km hike, and a 15 km bike ride.

My husband Tom had been not so keen about joining up in the first place, but he caved to my pestering about doing a challenge and spending quality time together. When we checked the forecast on Thursday, it was saying it would rain. Still, I hoped the weather gods would shine down on us. On Friday and Saturday, the forecast still said rain, but suggested it might snow as well.

The s-word had me worried. "If you want to knock it on the head and pull out, we can do that," I offered Tom on Saturday morning as we looked outside at the gloomy three-degree weather. I’d offered before to back out, but this was the first time I wanted to quit myself.

"No, I’m committed. I’m up, we’re doing it – let’s get going," Tom said, looking grim but determined.

We layered up, rushed out the door and got out to Elk Point’s River Park. Thanks to Marvin Bjornstad and Becky Paul, we were suited up with a canoe, paddles and lifejackets. The volunteers were on top of their game, and everything was running smoothly. But slowly, I felt my nervousness mount – there was talk about how in past years, people have capsized, how the river was even higher and faster than usual, and how to avoid getting trapped in the water if we were to capsize – not a fun prospect in the current weather situation.

But like Tom said: we were there, we were committed. So when the guns blasted off marking the beginning of the race, we got in our canoe and started off, surrounded by a beautiful river bank looking almost as green and lush as the hills in the United Kingdom.

As soon as we were in the water though, I had serious misgivings about our sanity. The canoe was pitching left, right and centre, and even going a kilometre was hard work.

"Feel ready to yell at me now?" I said jokingly to my husband.

"Yes, but I’m not going to," he shot back. Well, I won’t go into all the particulars of what happened next, but expletives were tossed out as I started yelling about how he had every chance to back out.

"Yes dear, sure, I had every chance to back out," he agreed sarcastically. I don’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that in a canoe, you can’t get up and walk over to strangle the person behind you if the urge so takes you.

"Well, are you having fun?" Tom throws out as we stroke as hard as our now feeble arms will let us, fighting against the wind pushing us back.

"No!" I hate to admit it, but no, this isn’t fun – this is torture. We’ve been paddling for an hour now, and it feels never-ending. I look longingly at the river bank, and contemplate just mooring up to die quietly of cold and shame, but everyone else is so far ahead of us that it seems impossible to quit.

Closing in on two hours, we can see the river landing. One last straggling boat has come up beside us, and they’re looking about as exhausted, cold and wet as we are.

"Come on, we’re not going to be the last ones in," Tom says, pushing with renewed energy. "Stroke, stroke!"

We’re so close to the end and with a thrill of exhilaration, we pull into the river landing, the second last boat to finish, but not the last! I’m so glad it’s all done, but when I get up, I nearly collapse, with my legs totally soaked and feeling like jello.

Now I’m expected to carry this freaking canoe up the hill and there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that I can do it. With his last bit of strength, Tom, along with one or two other volunteers, dragged the canoe up the hill. I decreed that was it – we were done.

"Well, I’d do the bike ride still," said Tom, adding he would be disappointed if he didn’t finish after all of the pain.

"You go ahead and do that, honey. I’ll wait in the car," I said, giving him a big smile. His enthusiasm quickly evaporated then and he agreed we better get out, as many others started doing the same thing.

On our way out, we passed one biker after another, gritting their teeth as they pedaled against the wind – people determined to finish. "Psychos, all of them," I say, shaking my head.

However, I have to give a lot of credit to these people who didn’t give up, no matter the odds. Go figure, while I gave up on the race, two and a half hours into it, two men in their 70s went on to finish it in 2 hrs. and 50 minutes! It’s incredible.

Although I still question the wisdom of risking hypothermia to finish a challenge, I do understand the compulsion. It’s about finding the limits of your own human endurance, pushing to the edge of that and over it, in an attempt to prove that with determination, anything is possible.

While we didn’t finish this year’s Riverland Challenge, I’m still happy we gave it our best shot and finished our 10 km canoe ride without killing each other. Someday we’ll finish the whole thing, but I know this much – endurance, determination and all that nonsense aside, it will never happen in 3 degree weather with wind and rain, so here’s hoping for better weather next year.