Tag Archives: Solarpunk


This Old Mine Is Now B.C.'s Largest Solar Farm | The Narwhal

GIMLI XYZ announcement:

Hi there, folks, this is Sitting Cloud here, your new DJ while Foghorn Fredricksson takes a long break. My husband says I should get out of the house more, so here I am! I’m still getting used to all these controls so bear with me – but these last few weeks have been a learning curve for all of us, haven’t they? Well, I’m pleased to announce the repairs on the Lighthouse are completed – the solar panels have been fitted – and to celebrate there is going to be a disaster relief benefit concert, raising funds and resources for all those affected by the recent crisis, at the Sports Hall, with no less than The Runestone Cowboys playing, featuring my son, Eddy Redcrow! It’s going to be this coming Saturday. Hope you can make it. To get you in the mood, here’s one of their numbers. Now, which damn button is it…?


The sports hall was packed, the atmosphere electric with excitement and relief as Eddy stepped onto the stage with his band. He picked up his guitar, and his bandmates attended to their own instruments – Deep Fried Fred on rhythm, Berserk Bjarki on bass, and Octopus Ollie on drums.

‘Hello Gimli!’ Eddy roared, as he strummed his guitar. ‘It’s good to see you all! We’re the Runestone Cowboys, and I don’t know about you, but we’re here to party!’

The crowd went wild as the band plunged into their first upbeat number. Hit the ground running, was Eddy’s motto. Three months into the clear-up and folk were ready to let their hair down. It had been ninety days of hard work, of grim discoveries, of burials and memorials. Slowly normality had returned. Power. Water. Food and fuel deliveries. The internet and phone signals. The streets had been cleared, the ploughed piles of dirty snow slowly melting away. It was strange, at first, to see asphalt again, sidewalks, lawns and fields – the colour slowly returning to the landscape like someone adjusting the balance on an old television.

The completion of the new solar-panelled lighthouse had been the symbol of renewal for the community – an affirmation that the sun would once more grow in strength, the light would return, and crops would grow again. The nuclear winter was over – all the reports confirmed it. The floods had been devastating, but at least the milder weather and greater daylight made the rescue and clear-up operations easier.

As satellite communications were restored a flood of emails, texts, and voice-mails filled up people’s message boxes. In the last week Eddy had received two unexpected but welcome messages: one was from Cruz, who was now leading the remaining members of the Wild Hunt. She had sent a photo of herself in front of the club on the battle-scarred million-dollar bike. The message simply said: ‘The Wild Hunt rides on! Patch for life, Red! Seeya on the road!’

The other was a video-message from Bog standing with a pint of Guiness outside Lowry’s: ‘Would you believe it, I made it back! Took a week to thaw out! My hands were like a pack of fecking fish fingers! I found your website. Looks shite, but the music sounds good! Come over the pond for a jar or three! You’ll like the craic here. It suits crazy halfbreed like us! Anyway, I see from your homecoming gig you made it back. That was one epic ride there, my friend! You’re a legend! Here’s to more wild times, but with better weather, hey?’

Eddy scanned the dancing crowd and saw his sister dancing proudly near the front with her friends. She waved and grinned. He smiled back and went into the lick of the next track – a smooth segue they had been practising for a while. They had a three song medley to warm up the crowd, and they weren’t going to pause for a break and a bit of banter until then. He was in full flow, loving the vibes, the admiring or envious looks, but more this time – the deep appreciation, the respect. He wasn’t just Eddy of the Runestone Cowboys, he was a local hero, and perhaps more, but no one except his community knew the whole story. He was cool with that – the last thing he wanted was news crews camped outside the family home, pestering his friends and family for sound-bites, tempting offers to appear on chat shows and more. After everything he had gone through more than anything he wanted to keep it real. A low profile. His old job. A cold one with his friends down the brewhouse now and then. Sure, he had fantastic memories to keep him going for the rest of his life. Those would never fade. The people he had met. The things he had seen. He had ridden with legends. Fought monsters. Journeyed between worlds. And had lived. That was enough for any man.

At least that’s what he told himself.

But he had tasted magic. And the world would never be the same again. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw her. She haunted his dreams.


No mortal woman would ever live up to her, and how could they? He had sampled the nectar of the gods. He knew he should just be content – for being back in Gimli, for being alive. They had all lost much, but he still had the gift of life, so fragile, so precious. And once gone, irreplaceable.

Every day he reminded himself of that. He easily he could have failed, could not be here.

Where would he be, exactly, he wondered? Which world would his spirit go? Was it destined for a Dakota afterlife or an Icelandic one – or some snakehole between the two? He shook his head and laughed and the audience thought it was just the buzz of the performance. He had spent his life trying to square that one, and perhaps he never would. Death was merely a change of worlds, his grandfather had said. Perhaps there, in the great beyond, all such differences faded away… The Red and the White. The Black. The Yellow. The Rainbow Nations, becoming one again. Perhaps there, all his loved ones who had passed on waited for him…

Lost in the solo with the throb of the drums behind him, he slipped into a semi-trance state. The hall suddenly felt larger, the crowd vast – extending into shadowy catacombs where ranks of ancestors eavesdropped.

Eddy nearly fudged a chord as he was overwhelmed by the presence of his grandfathers – Gunnar and Running Bear stepped forward from the shadows, side-by-side. They parted as a blue light appeared between them.

The image vanished in a flash, and suddenly there in the audience … there she was, dancing.


She gyrated to the music. Wearing jeans, boots, a tight t-shirt, she just looked like another one of the crowd, out for a good time.

Eddy nearly fell off the stage. His bandmates made a joke, yanked him back, carried on playing.

She looked up at him, and her fierce blue eyes caught his.

And the distance between the worlds melted away.


Extract from Thunder Road by Kevan Manwaring

Copyright (c) Kevan Manwaring 2020


Brighter Than the Sun

A Viking statue is unveiled to the residents of Gimli Manitoba by the President of Iceland. Gimli has the largest...

Announcement by WOTAN (broadcast on all channels, in all media formats)

We declare our resolution to bring an end to the crisis which has threatened the very survival of our species these last few months. By working together the members of WOTAN have put into place emergency protocols that prioritise humanitarian aid, the sharing of resources and information across borders, and collaboration between our armed forces. The well-being of our citizens and the care of the vulnerable is our top priority. It is expected that major flooding will occur across coastal areas as the ice melts, so co-ordinated evacuation is taking place wherever possible. We acknowledge that this is an unprecedented situation – and we must accept our culpability in bringing about this Climate Chaos through the thoughtless use of fossil fuels. This must change – we have the technology to solve these problems and draft plans are being formulated – but for now, we must salvage what we can and rebuild our lives. We ask every citizen to help their neighbour and their community. Humanity has been tested. We must learn the lessons of this crisis, and build a wiser, more compassionate world.

Chapter 34: Brighter Than the Sun

Eddy sat by the statue of Leif Ericsson, strumming his guitar, looking out over Lake Manitoba. It was definitely getting milder, the ice starting to break up on the water, patches of green emerging from the melting snow.  It was like the first inklings of spring, though it was midsummer. He ran through the chords of one of the Runestone Cowboys standards, but his heart wasn’t in it. He was looking forward to playing with the band again – they had been booked to play at the reopening of the Lighthouse, repurposed as a community hub. There had been a couple of rehearsals, and a lot of beer drunk, as he had caught up with the band and shared some of his wild exploits. He didn’t like talking about it too much, as it all sounded like some low budget B-movie, the magic bled away in the neon glare of a bar-room or strip-lit garage-cum-practise-room. He stopped strumming and flexed his fingers. Still stiff after all that riding – his death-grip crossing the ice, day after day, pulled something and his hands throbbed, especially at night. He circled the scar in his palm fondly, then sighed, looking at the bleak, familiar vista. Nothing could go back to the way it was. Absent-mindedly he played a chord, pushing it around the fretboard. A promising pattern fell into place and he played it again, building upon it. He began to hum along a harmony and for a while he was just lost in his music. Forging a new song for a new age.

‘Hey, brother!’

Eddy looked up. It was Siggy, wearing a thick colourful coat, hat, gloves and ear-warmers.

‘I thought I recognised that caterwauling. Shove over. I’ve got coffee.’

Eddy smiled and made room for his sister.

She gave him a peck on the cheek, and then poured them both some coffee.

He breathed it in. ‘Ah, I’ve missed your industrial grade joe, sizzers,’ smiled Eddy, grimacing as he took a sip.

‘Some cookies too,’ she offered from a bag.

Eddy gave her a curious look. She had been overly attentive since he’d made it back, fussing around him like a mother hen. Half the available women in Gimli had as well, but his sister had kept them at bay – couldn’t they see he was broken-hearted and needing some healing time? Not only had he gone to Hell and back saving them all – where exactly she still couldn’t quite get her head around – but he had lost the love of his life too boot. ‘Give the man some space!’ she warned, while smothering him with her sisterly love.

As they sipped their coffee and munched on the cookies, they gazed over Gimli. The place was slowly being sorted out – the roads being cleared of snow, buildings being repaired, power restored, services coming back on line. It was going to take a while for ‘normal service to be resumed’, but there was a semblance of order being restored. The worst job was dealing with the bodies – not only the victims of the raiders, whose own corpses had dissolved away staining the snow like an oil spill, but those found frozen in their cars, in their powerless homes. The sports centre had become a temporary morgue, as folk returned to their own dwellings. Identifying the dead had been a grim task.

‘I miss him,’ said Eddy, finally.

Siggy snuggled close, leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘Me too.’

‘So many dead to mourn, it’s … overwhelming. But losing him has hit me more than anything, well … almost.’

‘I know.’

They scanned the lake, hoping to see some meaning in the runes of black cracks.

‘Everyone is looking forward to the gig tonight. Folk need a good dance, let their hair down, shake some feathers, after … all of this.’

Eddy grimaced. ‘I hope we’re going to be warmed up enough. Hardly had time to practise. We’re rusty as fuck.’

‘Oh, a few beers, and the cheers of the crowd should warm you up.’

‘Let’s hope so. I don’t know if I’m really in the party spirit, to be honest.’

‘That’s completely understandable. Just be real. People will dig that. It’ll give your music real grit.’

At the word, Eddy found his ears prickling with tears.

‘What’s up?’ she asked.

‘Oh, nothing… Just something grandfather once said to me…’

Siggy put her arm around him and he leaned his head on her shoulder as they gazed across the bay. ‘He’d be so proud of you,’ she whispered.

Eddy shook his head. ‘I’d rather have him back.’

‘I don’t he’ll ever go away… He’s probably looking down on us right now, laughing.’

They scanned the threadbare blanket of cloud cover.

‘He’s gone. And he’s not coming back. It hurts, it hurts real bad. But … I’m ready to deal with it.’

Siggy nodded. ‘We’ve all survived something … mad … it has stripped away a lot of bullshit. Folk don’t want fake anything anymore.’

‘Let’s hope so.’ Eddy finished his coffee, and flicked the grouts into the snow.

‘I don’t think folk will be so quick to vote in a shuckster like Koil again,’ she assessed, packing away the Thermos and Tupperware. ‘No more wizards of Oz! But we need checks and balances so it doesn’t ever get out of hand like it did. No single leader should wield so much power.’

‘Well, sounds like the new NATO will see to that.’

‘WOTAN,’ she corrected. ‘Yes, since they formed the emergency council of countries dealing with the crisis things have started to be sorted out. It is amazing what we can achieve when we work together.’

A flash of light caught their eye. They turned to the lighthouse.

‘Looks like they’re fixing those new solar panels in place,’ said Eddy. ‘Optimistic!’

‘That there cloud is finally starting to break up. The experts on the radio say the nuclear winter is coming to an end. The volcanic ash and dust in the jet-stream is finally dispersing.’

‘Well, don’t get out your bikini yet, sis. It’s going to take a while before things warm up.’

‘I don’t know. I think there is already a little thaw,’ she held his hand, and smiled. ‘I think I can even feel a pulse.’


Extract from Thunder Road by Kevan Manwaring

Copyright (c) Kevan Manwaring 2020

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