Roaming Central Canada: August 21-October 4, 2024
On August 21, I quickly crossed into Ontario, and after driving only 250 km, I found a beautiful roadside stop at Dogtooth Lake (near Kenora), so I paused for a restful sleep. The next day, I stopped at the wonderful Terry FOX memorial near Thunder Bay to pay my respects and reflect on what an excellent young fellow he was. He is a true Canadian hero. I make a small donation to the cancer cause and advise the two young woman volunteers to tell my story about cancer in my life (and my family), and I tell them not to load up the “bus of life” with experiences to do later. That time may never happen. Later, I drop into Eagle Canyon near Dorion, which is known as Canada’s longest suspension bridge at 183 meters. I walked across both bridges there and descended intothe canyon for some exercise. I realized on my way up that my cardio was shot! A dirt road spot nearby proved to be quiet and restful. I have a 6.5-hour drive (600 km) to reach my sister Emilie’s place in Timmins, in northern Ontario. I pass an Arctic Watershed sign, which reminds me of how vast Canada is. I see many semi-trucks on the road and signs warning of the danger of moose at night. For fun, I counted 100 westbound semis and 23 cars in 40 minutes (rail strike traffic?). The many small lakes with long reeds sticking out from the shallow portions of these lakes with tiny islands hosting small trees on them, granite cliff bluffs and gneiss outcroppings, are all comforting to the teen part of my brain as I grew up in northern Ontario.
I had yogurt, a banana, and a Harvest Crunch granola mixture for breakfast in my car. Then, I finished shaving my beard and head so I wouldn’t look too grisly to my sister and her family. I arrived at her house just in time for a delicious home-cooked meal. We had roast beef with mashed potatoes and gravy and peas and carrots. There was warm apple pie with ice cream for dessert, just like my mom used to make for us.
After staying for two nights, I headed to Sudbury to see my nephew, Jordan BABANDO (Em’s son), for a quick hello and goodbye. I push on to my brother Ed’s place in Bradford, just north of Toronto. I got to use his place as a base for my Ontario visits. I didn’t realize how much the driving had taken a toll on me! I found myself lacking the motivation to do anything. I feel weak and tired. The effort of setting up appointments with strangers and agencies I know little about, combined with moving from parking lots to roadside stops, has really worn me down. The comfort and warmth I experience from Ed’s wonderful family make these feelings even more intense in this contrasting situation. I enjoy the atmosphere of love with deep contentment.
The few slow runs I attempted could have been better! After a few days of relaxing, I finally buckled to work. Emails began to fly back and forth between London, Toronto, Aylmer (Ontario Police College), Kingston, North Bay, and other locations. I started with a drive down to see the London Police Services. London has a population of 450,000. I go on ride-alongs with Sgt. Mike TOUNTAS and later in the evening with Sgt. Ryan WEBER. We talk about the use of force and policing in general, and I tour their jail. Unlike many other agencies, they shy away from joint locking, preferring to use methods of striking mixed in with jiujitsu ground fighting instead. Often, these preferences are influenced by the instructor’s background in martial arts. The next day, I set up a brief meeting with one of their trainers, Chad LAPRISE, so I grabbed a spot in a nearby police dirt overflow lot at 0330 hours.
I met with Chad on the following day. He was a UFC fighter for 6 years. He enjoys ground fighting but acknowledges that it is situational and not ideal for dealing with multiple assailants. He emphasized that control must be established before attempting to handcuff someone. The London Police Service provides its recruits with three weeks of in-house training before attending the mandatory twelve weeks at the Ontario Police College. Their recruits receive an additional 4 weeks of training after the College. Chad liked my idea about establishing some control tactics rules for self-auditing purposes. I drove back to Bradford to have a few rums with my brother Ed as we watched “Idiot Fails” or some other pathetic drivel. This is a setback on my positive vibes for sure.
Ed and I drive to meet one of my oldest friends, Rick, a McMaster grad who resided with me in a men’s dorm, Matthews Hall (1972-1975). He retired from dentistry and now volunteers for a group
that assists communities around the world affected by natural disasters. I have much respect for his endeavours. In Milton, we played virtual golf and had many laughs in the process.
On Sept. 4, I attend the Ontario Police College in the rural town of Aylmer. I meet a great bunch of guys at the OPC: Chris NEWTON, Pete RAMPAT, Director Paul HEBERT, and old-school police trainer Leo LOUCKS (a world champion kickboxer who just got inducted into the Canadian Black Belt Hall of Fame). I watch recruits go through three final scenarios of “unknown trouble” from an elevated position in several scenario rooms (restaurant, living room, etc.). The recruit(s) must deal with problematic arrestees, some brandishing weapons like bats or knives. Each intake has ten classes of 50 recruits, all staggered slightly, with four annual intakes. That’s 2,000 recruits trained annually! Every officer, except those in the RCMP, must complete this training to be certified as a police officer in Ontario. Peter and I have engaging discussions about use-of-force training. I parked my car in a corner lot on campus and chatted with a few instructors the next day, exchanging techniques with them before hitting the road to visit my friend Rick in Thorold again quickly. We both belonged to the McMaster Karate Club, so he understands the concept of using force to a certain degree.
Later that day, I drove to Burlington to meet Kwesi Millington, a former RCMP officer who was convicted of perjury in the Robert Dziekanski taser homicide case at Vancouver Airport on October 14, 2007. This was a complicated situation, but Kwesi and three others were ultimately exonerated (read “Blamed and Broken”). It was a tragic case all around. He engages in motivational speaking about resilience to both kids and corporations. I have great respect for him.
Afterward, I returned to my brother Ed’s place to reflect on all I had experienced over the past few days. I await the realization of other leads. On Sept. 12, I drove a few hours north to attend the North Bay Police Service to meet S/Sgt Vince CORRENTE, and he set me up with a ride-along with Cst. Colin JEROME and later with Cst. Ryan SCHREYER. I see more homelessness, mental illness and drug addiction. What has my old hometown come to? I knocked off the ride-along at 0115 hrs and hit the local Walmart parking lot for a night of sleep, dreaming about my high school years in this fine city.
The leaves are just starting to turn colour. I went to Crystal Cave, a rock and mineral shop near Sundridge, and admired the many beautiful specimens on display and for sale. I was a rockhound as a teenager, and this interest in rocks led me to a B.Sc. (double honours) degree in Geography and Geology (’77). The following year, I earned a B.Ed. Degree (Geography and Phys. Ed.). When I graduated and moved to Vancouver, there were no jobs for teachers, so |I joined policing after hearing a radio ad about the VPD hiring. In those days, the recruiting pool was just that, not a puddle as it is now. I had to fight 250 applicants for my job. I would use my B.Ed. Degree while teaching martial arts and later for use-of-force tactics and drug awareness education.
I could not arrange a visit with the Toronto Police Service, so I dropped into my old neighbourhoods, the “Concrete Jungle,” in the Lawrence Heights area near the Yorkdale Shopping Plaza. As a kid, I watched this huge mall being built in wheat fields near my home (it is the largest in Canada and one of the largest in the world). Everything is so shockingly small in scale. My world was so tiny in reality to my memory. I keep rolling east to Kingston to meet an old Skid Road beat buddy, Scott FRASER, now Chief of the Kingston Police Service. I stay at his apartment, and we have lots of laughs about “the good old days.” The next day, he set me up with Sgt. Geoff GRAHAM of the Training Section.
They only put through 6-15 recruits annually (through the Ontario Police College plus a few days of supplemental training), as they only have 250 members. I jump into Cst. Braden MERCIER’s patrol car at 1300 hrs, Sept. 19, and we soon go looking for a suicidal male. A very recent double murder scene was still being processed at “The Hub,” a homelessness camp that, not surprisingly, is the centre of much drug use and mental illness. I switch to a nightshift car with Cst. James DROPPO. After a breach of parole and car vehicle rollover, I returned to the Chief’s place to retire at 0200 hours. The next day, I went for another ride-along with rookie Jesse VANDERMEER for an evening shift. I told him that we are society’s babysitters. If we respected everyone else’s bodily autonomy, property, privacy, and, to some extent, their feelings, police would only be needed for accidents and natural disasters. But no, we must have a guidebook called the Criminal Code of Canada to help steer our behaviours. Drugs, mental illness, and, most importantly, a lack of proper upbringing all rot our communities at the core. The breakdown of the family unit and decent social mores allow crime and social decay to fester. A cab driver was spoken to about his dangerous driving, and another suicidal male (with a lengthy hospital visit) killed the shift. I make my way back to Scott’s place by 0330 hours.
In the next few days, I visit some relatives (my dear aunt recently passed away at age 100) between my Planet Fitness workouts. On Sept. 24, I head to Ottawa, a force of about 1,000 members, to meet S/Sgt. Jeff MORIN. I am matched with the neighbourhood team members Sgt. Sam BADRAN and Cst. Jamie COLLINS for an afternoon shift ride-along. They confront some mentally ill people, and later, we attend a protest briefing with the Crowd Control Unit (Public Safety Unit) about yet another pro-Palestine protest of several hundred people, some banging drums and all chanting their tired denunciations against Israel (“From the river to the sea, all of Palestine must be free…”). I meet up with Sgt. Bobby PROULX, who I shadowed during the two-hour event consisting of noise making and traffic blocking as the slow 4 km walk to the Parliament Buildings and then to the Israeli Embassy. They remain loud but peaceful. Two hours is more than enough for me. How they endure this repetitive tedium is beyond me. Bobby says they are starting to train defensive tactics while wearing their patrol gear. Good idea! I retire to “Trainyard” Walmart to retire at 2230 hrs, but I have trouble getting to sleep until 0100 hrs…
The next day, Sgt. Dan THOMPSON meets me and gives me a building tour, and then I watch some man-with-a-knife training drills. The role players are officers who have had some training to perform this duty. S/Sgt. MORIN agrees to introduce me to Martin ELIE in the Surete de Quebec. I camp behind an Esso gas station and ponder my next moves. The following day, I drove through Rigaud, Quebec, past the Canadian Border Services Agency training academy while lamenting my lack of contact there. I decided to approach the front gate, but security could not reveal who the Director was, nor could he provide me with any contact information on this person. I stay in another gas station lot with a few semi-trucks. As the end of September is quickly closing on me, I find it is getting cooler at night now.
The next day, I chatted with the Dept. of Natural Resource Officer Paul STEADMAN, and we agreed to meet up when I got to Nova Scotia: Justice Institute British Columbia use-of-force trainer and personal friend from Transit Police, Cst. Sandra LaBRIE hooked me up with a few trainers at the Ecole Nationale de Police du Quebec (provincial police academy) in Nicolet. I stayed in a Walmart parking lot in Sorel-Tracey and then the local Info Centre parking lot in the small city of Nicolet for the weekend while I waited for the Quebec Police Academy to open on Monday, September 30. I use the great weather and picnic tables to try and catch up with my blog. The Middle East is preparing for WW III. I worry that this will be a reality if TRUMP does not get elected. I talk myself into a more positive frame of mind and rest peacefully as possible.
I have trouble with my arthritic right shoulder, and my portable CPAP mask tore (for my snoring), but other than that, the weekend was pleasant enough. I get lonely (I am now 4,835 km from home), and travelling can be challenging sometimes, but I often give myself pep talks. I won’t have another chance to do this, say, 10 years from now. I went to the academy and met Secretary Natalie and instructor Bruno POULIN. They graciously showed me around their facility, which consisted of a repurposed (1969) old building. Recruits go through 15-week courses of this training in classes of 36 at 5-week intervals. There is also a 3-year policing program that features 50 hours of defensive tactics to complement the 70 hrs they receive in their provincially mandated training (as with the Ontario Police College). I saw several fair-sized matted training halls on mats softened by a 2”x4” latticed underlying the plywood flooring under standard judo mats and a large hardwood floor gym. One of their classrooms featured an actual train car, which the renovations were built around. I met trainer Francois LAVOIE (no police background), who allowed me to watch their tactical vehicle stops and subject removals in their parking lot. I chat with instructor Benoit LECLERC. They do not use the twist lock, so I show a trainer a method of vehicle extraction featuring this technique. They have several houses and rooms fitted for reality-based training scenarios manned by paid and trained role players (as we do at home). I met Capitaine Alain BERNIER from the police academy in Quebec City (Service de Police de la Ville de Quebec City – SPVQ), and we agreed to meet at his institution the next day. I hit “World Gym” and crashed hard at 2240 hrs in yet another Walmart parking lot.
Rolling Across the Prairies: August 11 – 20, 2024
Across the Prairies: August 11-August 20, 2024
I woke up on August 11 from my looping rest stop roosting place, had a short picnic table workout, and headed east across white salt piles of Chaplin Lake from which sodium sulphate is mined. I get to Regina and have a workout at Planet Fitness, before hitting a local laundromat and retiring in a parking lot at the south side of Murray Balfour Arena. In the morning, I met with Cory LERAT, Chris DESAUTERS, and curriculum designer Jody BRAY at the Saskatchewan Police College. We talk about training challenges: They feel that the training must be 1) easy to deliver, 2) easy to learn, 3) retainable (all skills are perishable), and 4) effective (fine motor skills are not readily available under high stress). What is the value of training hours, and are the techniques lawful and within the departmental policy? I always hold that the Criminal Code supersedes any departmental policy regarding life-and-death situations. It’s no big deal if you violate a departmental policy (with the concomitant slap on the wrist), but you must use any force, especially deadly force, in accordance with the law, meaning that force must be proportionate, reasonable, and necessary. If the use of force is justifiable, it must be clearly articulated as such. During training, recruits receive a quick debriefing after encountering use-of-force scenarios. They are commonly asked questions like, “What did you see? What did you do, and why did you do it?” It is essential to provide sufficient detail in use-of-force reports; otherwise, the gaps may be filled in by others, often to the disadvantage of the officers involved. It is heartening to note that more than eighty hours are provided in defensive tactics training. Still, this is not nearly enough to deal with the situations that officers must deal with on a daily basis. It has been recognized that “punching people into handcuffs” is not an effective strategy. The former situation often follows the failure to “control” an arrestee, as opposed to merely “holding” him, which merely invites resistance.
Corey further explains that teaching recruits too many techniques (“killing them by volume”) especially while yelling and berating them, is not advisable. He advised me that the RCMP use a 3-D virtual simulator (which I later experienced at the Atlantic Police College) to improve decision-making skills. We briefly watched some recruit training and talked more about training and his desire to build a purpose-built police training facility.
I met a very helpful and connected Tracey DUNNIGAN at Starbucks. She showed me around Regina (she is an ex-Regina Police Service member) and set me up for two nights at her Air BnB. I gave her a few challenge coins (while she gave me a whole set of NHL hockey team coins!).
I went for a ride-along with Cst. Craig Solomon, and of course, there were no calls on the board city-wide. The “curse of the ride-along continues”! Municipalities should start paying me to keep the crime rates at all-time lows.
On August 14, I drove to Saskatoon, where I met a host of friendly officers from the Saskatoon Police Service, including Insp. Lisa HOWASAD, Cst. Rick ERICKSON, and S/Sgt. Fred SIEMENS. I attended a few drug-related calls with Rick before retiring to my usual Chateaux de Walmart parking lot for a night’s sleep after watching some internet stuff using the Walmart Wi-Fi signal. I keep in contact with friends around the world using WhatsApp. This strips some of the loneliness from my nightly retreats in the back of my SUV.
The next day, I continued driving east to Yorkton, Saskatchewan and tried the Anytime Fitness facility (no lockers and only a few, albeit private, shower rooms). I like the Planet Fitness setup better, so I vow to get a membership when I arrive in Winnipeg. Toby sends me an audiobook e-book suggestion “The Comfort Crisis” by Michael EASTER. In it, the author talks about the Japanese concept of “misogi” (a hard, unusual, inward-facing challenge with no guarantee of success). In some ways (not physical), this is part of my own mental/emotional/spiritual quest. Easter suggests that loneliness can be regarded as “rich solitude”. I remember my 5 months in total, living in a tent in the Ram River Plateau in the mid-70s (3 field seasons with McMaster University’s Geography Department). No radio contact with the outside world, no music, no structural respite from the summer heat and rain, frigid spring weather with its snow and sleet, and the plethora of bugs. I’d dream of walking on a paved surface or of eating fresh food. Success in these ventures was guaranteed, but the experiences helped shape my young character, nonetheless. My current quest is shaping this old boy’s character into yet another version of this early self…
I sleep next to a field full of mosquitoes, and once again, I quick-dive into my abode and wheels. I finally hear from the Winnipeg police. I roll into town and sign up for a Planet Fitness membership ($29.00/month for a Black Card, which gives me access to their massage beds and chairs). I appreciate having a workout and a place to shower after a long day’s drive. It’s now my home away from home. Many of these facilities are paired with Walmarts, so I am set!
Over the next few days of waiting to hear from the Winnipeg Police Service, I treat myself to another workout, a pedicure, a massage, and a theatre movie (“Alien: Romulus”). I work on my Alaska blog (my Instagram video log is pathetically behind, but I still keep shooting updates). I am the Trailing Tactical Trainer. I lost one whole blog entry somehow…I hate doing things twice!
Finally, on August 20, I went to the WPS HQ and met with Nadine BERZENJI. Sgt. Adam HOURD gave me a tour of the jail, then went for a day shift ride-along with A/Sgt. Evan STOROZINSKI (and later with Sgt. Rob RENTZ). A total of 1,500 officers police Winnipeg (population 776,000) by taking 1,500 calls daily. I watched a man bleed out on the street following a fatal stab wound to the neck. They say Winnipeg is “a bit stabby”. No kidding…our Skid Road is the same.
On the way out of town the next day, I met with Jeff QUAIL from Setcan (setcan.com), a police training gear supplier and training certification provider. I noticed their training products, such as the Shocknife and Stressvest, everywhere I went. They are the largest company in this industry. I also gave him a copy of my book, our challenge coin, and Police Judo luggage tag—he seemed to appreciate the gesture (as I carried so few copies of the book with me), as he bought me Tim Hortons treats. Like me, he teaches by principle rather than by technique. We part each other’s company, and I head for the Ontario border.
Run Down to Idaho
Now it’s Saturday, July 27th, and I get word that Edmonton and Calgary will host me, so I start driving in that direction. It stopped raining, but it is cloudy. A few white-tailed deer crossed my path. There is a roadblock at Hwy. 40 and Hwy. 16; there are some RCMP checking westbound traffic before Hinton, presumably to see why people are heading towards the fire zone. I get to Hadyn ROBERT’s place in Airdrie, Alberta, in time for supper. He works with the Highway Patrol for the Alberta Sheriffs (I could only ride with them if I was looking to join up—apparently my quest counts for nothing!). Haden has me sign my first book, Chin Na in Ground Fighting (2003) for him, so now he is one of the few people who has both signed copies of my books. We meet for drinks with another Police Judo aficionado and neighbour to Hadyn, Cst. Brant DERRICK, of the Calgary Police Service. Over the next week, I travel back and forth between Calgary and Edmonton to watch their training and to go on ride-alongs. Everywhere, it is the same with drugs, homelessness, and mental illness. Sadly, there seems to be a bit of Skid Road all over the world.
Hadyn, Brant, and I got a bit of training time together in Hadyn’s basement gym. I note copies of various martial arts books scattered about and realize that he actually studies them. Great! A man after my own heart. I liked using Hadyn’s Hyatt cuffs with the magnetic knurled key attachments. We go over lateral vascular neck restraints, a technique that many agencies have dropped due to knee-jerk reactions from higher-ups who should be nowhere near the use-of-force policy making, in my humble opinion. I have significant knowledge about this topic, as I researched it and taught it to the entirety of the Vancouver Police Department at the behest of the Deputy Chief Constable in the mid-80s, with the capable assistance of the late and great Insp. John McKAY (RIP). On July 31, Brant DERRICK takes me for a tour of their Westwinds Training Campus and then the Calgary Police Services HQ, where I made contact with an old Police Judo student, Cst. Alvin SINGH. He is enjoying his work there, but he misses the VPD I think.
I then patrol with Dallas GRIMM after attending their parade. He attends the arrest of a gang member, sporting his affiliation with tattoos, and he offers no resistance. A male is later found in the act of power grinding off a bike lock. Still, we attend another arrest of an immigrant male who receives a “Gypsy hug” from a female. I spotted the subtle hand-off of a folding knife from him to her. She was pissed at me for blowing the whistle on her!
On August 2, I attend the Edmonton Police Service attend parade with Anthony BOSCH and then go on a ride-along with Cst. Sam VISSCHER. He and another member arrest a trespasser—good clean team tactics displayed. There will come a time when the rear, bent, double twistlock will be the standard for handcuffing arrestees. I don’t say much about my own handcuffing preferences unless they are requested of me. I do send all those who hosted me a list of Odd Squad videos and links to our H-CUFF (Hands-on Control Using Functional Force) method of handcuffing. I must finish that online course and accompanying book when I can find time…Sam tells me that their schooling consists of 6 months of training with a mere 2 or 3 days of ride-alongs added in. We revive a mildly drug overdosed woman without the use of Narcan—relentless annoying questioning does the trick. After shift, I find a quiet industrial area to car camp and am asleep by 0500 hours.
Along the way, on Aug. 3, I meet up with my 2nd Skid Road ex-beat partner, Walt McKAY, in Red Deer for a coffee and a few laughs. We talk about my new lifestyle. “Boondocking” is camping with an RV or a car outside a designated campground and without hookups, whereas “stealth camping” is just mostly car camping without being noticed (as usually it’s not allowed when and where this is done). I guess I do both. I do not really like to camp on residential streets for fear of being called in as a stolen vehicle, given my out-of-town plates and, therefore, nonlocal status. I have yet to have a single problem with my choice of roosting for the night. I keep tightening up my living arrangements and note that I no longer feel that I am on a camping trip; rather, I am enjoying a lifestyle that must be taken at a slower pace of living in what is essentially a matted horizontal closet. Getting changed in the back used to be a chore. Now, it just is my way of living—car yoga. I feel like I have learned to dress and undress an invalid—me. I now take the slower and smarter pace in stride.
I drive to Waterton Lakes National Park which straddles the Alberta/Montana border. I talk Tactical Communications there to the Wardens in the 1990s. My good friend Dan VEDOVA, upon whom I had the honour of bestowing his 2nd-degree black belt in Nisei Karate-do decades ago when he was a Park Warden in Pacific Rim National Park, has a grown-up son, Daniel Jr., who followed his Dad’s footsteps and became a Park Warden there after his graduation a few years ago. He also recently qualified as a use-of-force instructor at the RCMP training academy (Depot), so I was eager to talk to him about his training since I was shut out of the Depot training hall. It sounds like they are still doing the Pressure Point and Control Tactics (PPCT) program, at least to some degree.
This park was so beautiful! After a very brief walk-along with him, he got called out of town in connection with the wildfire situations. It was raining, so I decided to leave town, swollen with “Heritage Day” tourists; we swapped challenge coins and promised to get together at another time. Daniel referred me to a quiet spot out of the park limits to camp, but this time, it was a purging of sour gas that tried to kill me. Even the nearby cows were bellowing in the morning. I packed up quickly and helped to rescue a cow that had ended up on top of a steep scree slope below its herd. As it turned out, the hours of bellowing were because of the separation from the herd, not from the deadly gas. I managed to get a hold of the rancher who owns the cattle, and he and his cowhand were able to shout-steer it back onto the trail. This was a case of sour gas and sweet rescue.
The rainy weather has disappeared! I am now at a crossroads: go east towards Saskatchewan, or south to see Chief Tracey BASTERRECHEA in Idaho. I chose the latter because I also wanted to see this extremely talented Traditional Chinese Medicine doctor, Dr. WANG, in Seattle first regarding my arthritic shoulders (my right one is in an advanced stage of disease, so much so that the shoulder doctor that I consulted was amazed that I could lift my arm above shoulder level). Dr. WANG cured my Sifu’s daughter, Helen, of a thrice-returned stage 4 cancer of the lymph nodes in 1994. Not only is she alive today, but she got married and has a healthy son. How did he do this, and why aren’t oncologists lining up to see how he did this miraculous work? In any case, I chose to have blood cupping done (and herbal medicine prescription). The tainted dark blood gel it removed looks gross, but it greatly improved my shoulder trouble, at least for the near future.
On Aug. 8, I headed SE into Idaho through Oregon and pulled into Meridian, which abuts against BOISE. Chief BASTERRECHEA showed me around and assigned others to further my tour of their facilities. They have a great scenario village (costing $ 2.4 million in 2021); he arranged a ride-along for me, which was relatively uneventful (“the curse of the ride-along,” as it is known). There are 149 officers working here, so only 30-40 recruits are trained annually. I learned that some smaller police agencies actually put recruits on the road without any training (this can come 1-3 years later!).
I park on a rural road and take Hwy 20 E through Sawtooth Mountains National Forest (this is a bit of a misnomer because there were more brown grasses (sagebrush) and small shrubs with bare soil and rocks than trees that I could see. Where is the forest? The park is huge, so perhaps the trees are hidden from me. Regina and Saskatoon are lining up nicely for me. I stopped at the Crater of the Moon Info Center to learn about the massive basaltic lava flow that occurred 15,000 to 2,000 years ago here in the Snake River Canyon area (south Central Idaho). I entered arid Montana as my odometer passed the 17,000 km mark of my trip since leaving my home in Port Moody on June 23, 2024. For reference, I drove a combined distance of 12,400 km in Australia and New Zealand. I am now on Day 159 of my tour. My Saskatchewan contact, Tracy DUNNIGAN, is really helping me get set in that province!
On August 10, I slipped into the small port of entry into Saskatchewan at Turner. Here, I had my small Canadian-bought Sabre dog spray seized by an overzealous and poorly-trained rookie, who shall go nameless, as he has other problems that he must surely be facing. The short story is that after tossing my car without cause, I gave him a Police Judo/Law Enforcement Training Association challenge coin as a reminder that using discretion (in giving me and my pepper spray a pass) is only problematic if one does so for personal gain. I hope he learned something from our encounter about prohimited weapons and about the nature of common sense and integrity. I prefer to take the high road—this makes the open road more enjoyable. Life is good!
Up in Alaska
It’s now July 9th, 2024, and I find myself at the North Pole, near Fairbanks, Alaska. It really does exist! The Clausy street names and candy cane light poles were corny (even the McDonald’s sign pole bore the kitschy red and white stripes). Imagine going a call to St. Nicholas Dr. and Santa Claus Lane (note: it’s to the NE of North Pole High School). I felt a bit nauseated at all this tripe, so I drove on.
I meet with State Trooper Zack CHICOINE (formerly with the New Hampshire Police Department) for an
afternoon shift ride-along. Unfortunately, their police academy was not in session, so patrolling we did and use-of-force we talked. Riding with patrol officers allows me to pick up tidbits of information that help me shape my understanding of how force is used in various parts of the world. It stirs up a million memories of my own extensive street time. I am actively seeking knowledge outside of our backyard to see if what is being taught back home is effective and worthwhile.
The following morning, I meet the affable Lieutenant Jess CARSON, who lines me up with a couple of eager, hardworking young Troopers who make up their Crime Suppression Unit. Trevor NORRIS and Scott McAFEE (both martial artists) graciously let me tag along as they hunt and peck, looking for thieves and miscreants of all ilk. We search a huge and mucky wrecked car lot for stolen cars and tow one away. We chat a bit about various control tactics and techniques.
After two days of car camping in the State Police parking lot, I hit the road towards Anchorage, where Jess’s twin brother Jack, despite being out of the country on annual leave, has made arrangements for taking a look at their training facilities and getting me a ride-along in this municipality. I meet Sgt. Ty WITTE and tour of their downtown station where I am introduced the Chief Sean CASE. They have decent classroom and gym space here, as well as at their police academy, where classes of 12-20 are trained for a force of around 400 officers. At home, we are relatively blessed with great mats, thanks to my ex-partner’s Ret. Sgt. HINTON’s drive to install sprung floors in our Police Judo, Justice Institute (Police Academy), and VPD Tactical Training facilities. I note that they are using the LEPAT machine in their physical testing (an obvious variation of Doug FARENHOLTZ’s original POPAT set-up for which I was a test subject in the mid-80s). Like many other agencies, they are understaffed (by about 50 members) and are draining the recruiting puddle dry.
Sat. July 13, 2024: I go to the Anchorage afternoon shift parade (24 members), where I meet up with a junior Patrol Officer, James CAMPIONE (and his “partner” in a separate car, Cole SMITH). There is a buzz going around about TRUMP nearly being assassinated and BIDEN being shown the door. There’s a fair amount of gunplay in these parts, along with the seemingly ever-present domestic violence, drugs, and mental illness cases also seen in Australia and New Zealand. We wrap up the shift with the nabbing of a bank robber using unspecified high-tech equipment (see, I did read the waiver 😉 ).
Rain continues to dog me while BC and Alberta burn (they say I dragged this lousy weather with me). Meanwhile back in Tok, my old pal Joe and his crew are bored to death with nothing for his fire crew to do. The next day, I briefly met with Sgt. Derek COTTLE at his HQ; the following day, I went to see Andrew HOUSER at the Alaska Department of Corrections in nearby Palmer. We had a great chat and exchanged a few handcuffing techniques in their training gym using a probation officer, Molly, as a training dummy (yes, they too get trained in use-of-force matters!). They are also still using JIMMERFIELD’s training methodologies (One-on-One Control Tactics), but are looking for alternative training techniques to employ. I found Andrew very quick to grasp the nuances of meaningful control and arrest tactics and strategies and greatly enjoyed the friendship he extended to me.
It is now July 17, and there appears to be a small break in the rainy weather, so I hit the road (Highway 1) back towards Tok. The road is absolutely gorgeous! The view of Matamuska Glacier is quite a sight. It does rain a bit, but at dusk, that sets up one of the most thick and brilliant (double) rainbows I have ever seen! I pull into Tok, Alaska at 2000 hours with lots of daylight to spare and await Joe to get off work so we can drink a bit, swap techniques and share tales of the martial arts. I retire at 0040 hrs into the dusky confines of my car (I refused to camp on their floor because I didn’t want them tiptoeing around me when they got up to work).
I sleep well, then spend the following few days setting up visits down the road and re-jigging my home on wheels. Joe and Tess quietly listen to my story entitled “My Uncle Frank”, which lays bare a bit of my family history. Joe was shocked about my father’s abusive nature. He said he didn’t know about it…and I never felt like bragging about it, nor crying in my soup. In fact, my original reason for getting into the martial arts in the first place was to defend myself and members of my family (by hopefully beating the crap out of my old man). After sweating buckets and getting into deeper touch with my own anger issues, I fell in love with Karate during the Kung Fu craze of the early 70s. I soon realized that I could just as well hit my father over the head with a metal pipe, with far less personal physical sacrifice.
I learned that forgiveness lies on the road to happiness, so I had a very difficult tete-a-tete with my father, and we both hugged it out and started anew. Forgiving someone does not mean one should forget about family violence (or whatever wrong has been dished out to you), nor does it absolve the violating person of blame. Forgiveness lightens your own personal emotional burden. We can all learn from these experiences and move on from them.
On July 20, I roll into Joe’s workplace to say goodbye, and we both tear up a bit, he tells me that he loves me and that he is a better man for having known me. Wow! He felt gifted that I had entrusted him to say something nice at my projected memorial service. It was like we would never meet again. I told him that I loved him too and that he made himself the man he is today—I just cheered him along. He is, and will always be, my martial arts brother.
I steer my wheels north up the poorly maintained Highway 5 (Taylor Highway – “Top of the World Highway”). I get through OK and chat pleasantly with the CBSA officer manning the gate from Alaska into Canada. I show her my embarrassingly small canister of Sabre dog spray, and off I go into the Yukon. I like how the first few kilometres of the road are in a perfect state of repair, only to have it turn to crap shortly thereafter. The dirt road is almost entirely without traffic, but I do see a grizzly bear and two foxes (one with a mouse in its mouth).
Highway 9 abruptly ends at the swollen and swift-moving Liard River, and I take the very short, free ferry to Dawson City on the other side. It’s late in the day, and there is a slight drizzle, but I am rewarded with yet another complete and dazzling double rainbow. I stay put to saviour the moment while parking my car at the entrance to an old logging road. This must be my resting place for the night—my “pot of gold” spot. . The mosquitoes are out in full force forcing me, one again, to dive quickly into the back of my SUV, lest I drag the bloodthirsty swarm in with me. I eat some leftover yogurt and granola with sliced banana, and I am asleep by 0130 hours, just 50 km short of Stewart Crossing.
The adventurous part of me rued that I had not ventured up the Dempster Highway yesterday, but I was really unprepared (with regards to water, extra fuel, and a proper spare tire) for a thousand kilometers of a dusty, bumpy road. I did not want to get stone damage to my vehicle’s exterior. I was unsure if my lease agreement would handle such a tortuous trip, so I steered clear of it, promising myself to return when I was better prepared. I still wistfully remember looking at that first little inviting stretch of perfectly paved road heading north, but that was not the way it would be all the way up to Tuktoyuktuk. I guess I am maturing mentally, after all. Another trip it will be!
I drive through many minor smoulderings of recent fires in the sparse forest that seemed to make the multitudes of mosquitoes more voracious. Ah good, smoked meat, BBQ blood! I stay in the parking lot at the Canadian Superstore in Whitehorse and fall asleep to the sound of a light drizzle pitter pattering on my currently, inappropriately named, sunroof.
The next day, July 22, I called my friend Bill CASHER. He wanted to meet up with me later in the day, so I took four hours of time to install the newly purchased six plastic, stackable Sterilite bins in the back of my vehicle for storage, making finding things way easier. The right 1/3 side of my rear sleeping area was now solely a storage zone, with the remaining 2/3 of the car width reserved for sleeping. Delux! Bill led me to the Information Centre to pick up a few house guests from Australia, so I followed them back to his beautiful and spacious rural house, about 40 km from Whitehorse, to have a great dinner courtesy of his wife, Fiona. I have a hard time falling asleep, but Nature still felt I needed a wake-up call at 0500 hrs in the form of an extremely loud clap of thunder that actually rocked my vehicle! How close was that lightning strike?! Bill checked his property and found no fried trees, so it must have burst above my Faraday cage…
So, I dodged fires and a lightning strike; what’s next? A mudslide? Yup. That very same day, I left Whitehorse and decided to cut over to the West Coast to see the deep port at Skagway, Alaska. With all the continuing rainfall, I noted a chest-sized rock on the curving highway skirting around a cliff of mud and stone. It was likely glacial debris left there during the last glacial event, some 12,000 years ago, when the valley was under a mile-thick sheet of ice. The rock was trying to reduce its potential energy by seeking out seal level (and then some) using gravity’s silent, gentle and invisible hand, lubed up with much rainwater. I managed to wrestle this heavy piece of rock to the ditch by rocking it back and forth and pivoting it on a pointy bit, thereby duckwalking off the road. I mentioned the slope instability to nearby Highway workers who had witnessed my rock wrestling.
After a quick look at the massive cruise ships in dock (three of a possible 4 berths were occupied) and noting the large number of jewelry shops and tourists milling about, I go back out of the Skagway Valley. I find an even larger boulder at the same spot and note the improper placement of cones just around the bend, so I scoop them up to reset them. I note rocks the sizes of baseballs and footballs sliding off the slope every 10 seconds. This was no ball game. The hairs stood up on the back of my neck—this slope was going to cut loose, so I wisely beat it, not even hanging around a bit to video the event on my phone. I drove a short distance to Carcross where those Highway workers told me that there was a massive mudslide, 20 meters deep, that just cut loose, exactly where I had been standing. I saw the aerial photo of the slide and realized that even the slide fan was wide enough to have wiped me out and buried me under tons of debris. I caught news of the slide and consequent road closure for days (I was on the right side of that near hit!) and about Jasper burning. No Jasper-Banff trip for me. I go to the Liard River Hotsprings to bask in the hot pools to reflect on my good luck. What the heck? What’s next? Dengue Fever like my friend Blair has in Thailand?
Highway 97 through Muncha Lake Provincial Park was a real treat for the eyes as the nearby mountains wore fluvial fans like long dresses, small creeks sprang off steep cliffs and flew into wispy waterfalls, tiny glaciers bedecked the jutting peaks with its finger-like extensions clinging to cold barren rock, and clumps of snow adorned sun-shadowed crevasses. Magnificent! On the following day, I passed through the massive Peace River Valley and whizzed by my old workplaces in Beaverlodge and Grande Prairie. In early ’72, I hitchhiked to Edmonton to find a job in these places serving as a groundman for the linesmen who either strung interprovincial lines for high-voltage lines on “wishbone” structures, or who ran power lines to the pumpjacks (“donkey heads”) that sucked oil out of the ground using petroleum fuel products until we brought the electrical lines in. Sometimes I did both forms of work, but I mostly did the work of a groundman. Passing through this area brought a flood of memories from the 19-year-old part of my brain. I bought my first motorcycle, a 1969 650cc Triumph Bonnyville, which I almost drove off the road when speeding from Grande Prairie to Beaverlodge to pick up a part before the motorcycle shop closed. The guy who sold me the bike showed me how to switch gears in a parking lot. That was my sole training.
Anyhow, I overnighted at the rural and isolated Grande Cache Cemetery. I felt like flipping the bird at the Grim Reaper by sleeping at its front gates. I must say that it was deadly quiet, so I slept deeply, knowing that my visitation requests were starting to line up in Alberta, while death continued to stalk me.
[Note: Technical problems with pics continue to plague me…I will add pics later.]
Back Home in Canada and Off Again I Go
So, after my exhausting flight back to Vancouver on May 21, 2024, I realized I had travelled 35,500 km (mostly by air – 23,100 km – in 34 hours of flying time). I drove 7,700 km in Australia (1,900 km of which was in a motorhome with my gal Laurence HOFFMANN) and 4,800 km traversing both islands in New Zealand, so my fitness level has taken a real beating with all of the sitting around I have been doing. I did as many micro-burst exercises along the road as I could, but overall I am turning to mush. I hit the gym near my home 5 days a week for the month that I was home.
Thanks to Jane DENIZMEN, who is renting my place while I am away, I am generously allowed to be a guest in my own condo. It takes me two weeks to normalize after my hectic and stressful pace Down Under. I visit friends for coffee in an effort to unwind and decompress; I make many phone calls; the Police Judo crew has a farewell dinner for me, I get as caught up as I can. I will miss them all when I hit the road again soon. I go to the Odd Squad-sponsored Gord Spencer Memorial Golf Fundraiser established by retired VPD member (and Odd Squad’s gang expert) Doug SPENCER. I saw many retired pals of mine and pondered my career. I feel lucky to have been a member of the VPD…
I find far less attachment to my comfortable home as I set to embrace the suck of loneliness, discomfort, and uncertainty that drifting down the open road brings. I look forward to downsizing soon. It is time to let go of the old and get to know a newer version of myself. It has been said that to find yourself, you have to lose yourself–travelling on the razor’s edge can provide this opportunity for growth. I am forced to listen to myself in those quiet moments of uncertainty. I am careful to answer back with all of my collective positive wisdom that I can muster.
I begin prepping my leased car, a 2023 Nissan Rogue, which will be first-class transportation, but 3rd-class accommodation. I visit my sister Marilyn and her husband Joe in Victoria then see my lovely daughter Shimona HENRY and her partner Kane before driving to the west coast of Vancouver Island, to thank my retired Parks Warden buddy, Dan VEDOVA, for starting me on this law enforcement instructional career three decades earlier. I ended up being the tactical communications / use-of-force instructor for Parks Canada (coast to coast) for a decade in the 1990s. I presented Dan his second degree black belt in Nisei Karate-do a few decades ago, but we are both students of life and are happy to learn from each others as we age. We got out for dinner and drinks with his wife lovely wife, Cathy. Great times!
I reach out to another martial arts pal (and co-author of my first book), Joe FAULISE, who lives in Tok, Alaska, to see if he has any police contacts up there. If not, I would likely have given it a pass, as it is a 3,000 km drive north of my cross-Canada trip route. As it turns out, two of his former martial arts acquaintances, twin brothers Jack and Jess Carson, are now both Lieutenants in the Anchorage and State Troopers respectively. Did they attend a clinic I put on in Tok in the early 2000s? They graciously agree to help me in my quest to make policing safer for both the officer and offender alike.
I feel like I have stayed too long at home, as I have so many miles to cover. The upcoming winter cold will chase me towards the southern border of the USA. I toss so many things into the back of my car after picking up a foamy on which to sleep and hit the northern road on June 23. I drive a very short distance to Chilliwack, so that could say goodbye to my brother Kevin STRAND and see my cats Ceate and TLO. After a two-nights stay, I make my way to see a Police Judo instructor friend of mine, BC Sheriff Sgt. Brad ENDEAN, who lives near Kamloops. We spend a few days to get caught up. He was saying his right arm, in particular, was still sore from being tortured as my arrestee in my last book on joint locking. He felt so bad that he bought himself a new pontoon boat on which to cruise around Shuswap Lake, which he has moored a short walk from his place. We had a relaxing tour of the lake with him and some of his friends.
I visit my judo friend, John HUNTLEY (7th dan), for a coffee and look at his martial arts library in Kamloops. I honour him with our newly minted Police Judo / Law Enforcement Training Association challenge coin. He has been a very decent proponent of our new martial art. I drive north on Hwy 97 for 7 hours to sleep in a Walmart parking lot in Prince George. I see drug addicts and homeless people everywhere, like I so often witnessed in our Skid Road beat. I feel sorry and dismayed about our societal decline…
I celebrated my daughter Shimona’s 39th birthday over the phone with her. Gee, I am getting old! I am so proud of her efforts to re-invent herself, as so many obstacles fall in her path. She is full of strength and creativity. I love her so much! I drive through the Cariboo to Houston, BC, where I am stopped by heavy rains, so I sleep in a random rest stop. It is now Friday June 28, and I wake up and listen to bits of the TRUMP/BIDEN debate, if it could be called that. I have trepidations about the future of the world and worry that my tour may get shortened due to travel complications with WW III, another plandemic, or enhanced climate crisis strategies looming like a black cloud on the horizon
I remind myself that I only have here and now in which to live my life. I heard the comedian Jimmy CARR, of all people, provide an interesting perspective about seizing the day. He suggested that in thirty years (or how many decades that would make you very elderly) we would give up everything we had to be where we are today…so much younger and way more healthier. We cannot live in the future anymore than we can live in the past. We only have now, imperfect as it may be. Our past has been laid out by what we are doing in the present moments; our future is also being laid out by what we are doing today. Today is indeed precious, fleeting, irreplaceable, and so important, so do your best now while you can, was essentially his message. This reminds me about why I am on this lonesome, less travelled road. I feel that it’s a bit of a race against time while trying to smell the roses along the way. I have to try more to do the latter. But Carpe diem, indeed…
I got to meet an RCMP officer who gave me a ticket after I was speeding through the tiny town of Smithers, still in northern BC., then I decide to drive to Prince Rupert, just to say I saw it. The Skeena Valley was very beautiful–Prince Rupert was a rose indeed…a nice, small, friendly town. I boot it part way back up the valley and find a great rest stop where I could have a short rubber band workout around a covered picnic table. VPD Chief Adam PALMER called to get an update about my tour thus far and I lament to him about a recent letter of rejection from a Communications Sgt. at the RCMP training Depot in Regina. Adam is willing to help me get in to monitor their training. He is such a great supporter of both Odd Squad and Police Judo. Who could say that my quest is not an honorable one (besides the Goulburn Academy in New South Wales and the one in S. Australia). Who knows, maybe there are crushing political pressures at play that squashes transparency. Adam wishes me safe travels on my trip to Alaska, one that he wants to do himself. I hope he does it too.
I make it back to the well-maintained Stewart/Cassiar Highway (Hwy 37 N) that had light traffic, mostly RVs. I relax at the Nass River rest stop to eat more gas station food I bought earlier. How I long for a salad! I divert westward along Hwy 37A to drop into Stewart. The road skirts very closely to excitingly beautiful mountains south of the road, complete with glaciers and tumbling, near-vertical waterfalls. I chat with three friendly Indo-Canadian males in their white SUV bearing the sign “Surrey to Alaska”. I quickly dive into the back of my car to avoid pulling in mosquitoes with me and get back on the road north. I am always sleeping now before darkness sets in, well after midnight. I see a few bears and other animals too (a fox, wolf, etc.). I spend Canada Day driving through the Yukon Territory. I stay overnight in a rest stop just short of the Alaskan border after seeing two crows in the middle of the highway pecking another crow to death…
I wake up and cross into Alaska at Beaver Creek. The border guard was very friendly. I am now 174 km from Tok, on an extremely new and smooth road. This perfect pavement lasted for a few miles before the road became poorly maintained. Darn! I buy a can of “Alaskan cologne” (bug spray) as the little buggers are everywhere. I pull over anywhere along the highway and it almost seemed that they were just waiting for me! I saw a fox and an Interior Grizzly along the side of the road. I scared the latter animal own with my terrifying whip-poor-will call.
I go to the Tok Information Center, one that is nicely adorned with stuffed wildlife and information stations, until Joe’s wife Tess appears and guides me to their home, a few miles out of town. Joe comes home hours later and we quickly get caught up since we last got together, far loo long ago. Joe is still in the firefighting business doing logistics and he is looking to retire soon. We have many evening sessions of recollecting his training days in Vancouver under the tutelage of Master Shou-Yu LIANG, in his International Wushu San-shou Dao Association located in our notoriously drug- and crime-infested Downtown Eastside. He recalls fighting off two robbers with his gym bag while walking to his first class with us. Welcome to the Skids!
We also talk abut our experiences going on the 1994 North America Martial Arts Tour to China. This “Friendship Tour” was an amazing experience, but that’s a tale that be told another time.
I see Gary JACOBS, Joe’s throwing partner in China, after watching the July 4th parade in Tok. His family owns the wildly eclectic Mukluk Land, complete with old machinery and hundreds of dolls. Drop in!
For now, I have to finish lining up my contacts in Anchorage and Fairbanks. My vehicle is at last fairly well kitted up for the road. Bring it on!
Auckland In-service Training
A blur of towns, crossroads, and touristy sites, many with long unpronounceable Maoritized names, are passed as I make my way up the picturesque east coast of the North Island. There are massive rolling hills populated, even on the steep bits, by daring sheep, cows, and even domesticated deer! Twisted gnarly trees look like Mother Nature has had a few lessons in the art of bonsai, so beautiful they are, especially when they sprout along from the side of a cliff being perpetually pounded by waves, or when they proudly stand atop otherwise denuded hills as sole survivors of the devastating effects of over-deforestation. White Feather Pampas Grasses (resembling golden feather dusters), glow brightly in the sunlight, adding a surrealness to the landscape. I make slow progress with all the pulling over that I am doing (especially around the Coromandel Peninsula) to try and digitally capture the fantastic scenery en route to my destination.
I wake up before my alarm goes off at 0545 hours on May, 16, 2024, and make my way to the Tamaki Makauru Tactical Training Centre (in-service training centre) where James PLATT welcomes me and introduces me to some of his training staff (Troy, Ben, Al, etc.) working the day shift (the 1300-2100 hr afternoon shift allows them to offer a good spectrum of training and qualification times for the frontline staff). I meet all 16 of them over the next few days (5 are unsworn members – they may have previous police experience). All are friendly and easy to share knowledge with.
I start off by visiting their 12-bay, 50 m. range where they use their limited rounds (90) to practice their marksmanship and to ultimately qualify (@ 10 m.) with their additional 10 rounds (training on the Bushmaster using 556 rounds @ 20 m. is another matter). Putting 4,000 members through in three 6.5 hour sessions per annum is no easy task. Although they do not carry firearms, the vehicles are equipped with a trunk safe for their Glocks and rifles. They are looking at AirSoft and virtual reality training now, and are transitioning from the T-2 to the Taser 10. It is interesting to note that there are two levels of shooters on the force: Level 1 are regular force members, while Level 2’s are more of the desk-jockey types (“office dwellers”), so they require only a single 4.5 hour session to practice and qualify, as well do a refresher on OCS and batons (no Taser carry for them).
All are supposed to pass the Police Competency Test (PCT) every two years, which consists of 10 physical tasks in a timed 400 meter obstacle course (pushing a trailer, carrying a wheel assembly, doin a 200 m. run, walking along a raised beam, a 1.8 m. long jump, 1 m. vault, 30 m. agility zig-zag run, including crawling under hurdles, and climbing through a window then climb over a 1.8 m. wall, a 75 kg body drag for 7.5 m., and finally a 2.2 m. wire fence climb). This makes me think about the purpose of our long-used Police Officer Physical Abilities Test (POPAT) developed in the mid-80s by Doug FARENHOLTZ. I was one of his test subjects, wh0 wore a heart monitor and filled in green activity sheets during my patrol shifts.
I also remember seeing a “sweat track” in Australia in 1986 which was an outdoor obstacle course, and if I recall correctly, one not used for testing, rather for self-training purposes. New recruits here must have passed the initial Physical Appraisal Test (PAT) consisting of a 2.4 km run, a vertical jump, grip strength test, push-ups and a few anthropometric measurements to ensure that they are reasonably fit enough to do the job. Getting on the job is one thing; staying on is another. Many officers seem to be migrating to Australia. As with other agencies, the recruiting pools is getting more shallow by the day.
The trainers tell me that, like Australia, domestic violence is of great concern to the force. Why? There must be some deep-seated cultural problems brewing in their societies. We have our share of this crime, but not to the extent seen down here.
James takes me to the nearby Tamaki Makauru Training Village, a scenario site where $1.2 million NZD of a large warehouse allowed them to put in modular “Trango” buildings (for $300,000 NZD). This sim village has cars, furnishings, and other common items that can be safely employed in their reality-based training sessions. I think of the sad state of our own simulation rooms and feel embarrassed. I do have hope that changes will be forthcoming, as evidenced the the installation of a top-notch training floor.
To get a better perspective on their municipal problems, I ride shotgun in their police helicopter with Scott and his crew. While the pilot and co-pilot get the beast up to the 2,000′ altitude and make slow circles about the city and its environs, I watch Scott work through a list of places that he has to check for vehicular activity (he can read and record a plate from that height).
Back at the training centre, James arranges for his crew to bid me farewell, including a Maori safe travels prayer with the whole group. It was very touching. This was a great way to end my police training visit to New Zealand. Thanks guys!
I do a fast run up to the north end of the island and later take a flight out of Auckland on May 20th after 82 days on the road (4,800 km of driving). Apart from a short nap, I stay up for 33 hours. I realize that my pace has been very challenging on my ageing body. Despite my tiredness, I look forward to my cross-Canada portion of my tour.
ROYAL NEW ZEALAND POLICE COLLEGE (Wellington)
On May 9, I arrive at the RNZPC bright and early to be greeted by Insp. Derek SARNEY, who was proven to be a gracious and knowledgeable host. He gave me a tour of the college complete with defensive tactics, gun range, scenario village, etc. I was impressed with the sim village as it was brand new ($12 million) boasting several multi-level houses, all wired for video and feeding to a control room. In my view, videotaping scenarios is a real bonus to complete the learning experience. Some details are obviously lost in the moment, so feedback is less impactful compared to the ability to debrief a scenario using video playback. The interior walls look like painted gyprock, but are actually made of plywood, making for a durable set. Even the thinly carpeted floors have a drain in them making for easier and complete clean-ups (especially when medical scenarios involving fluids are used). The doors and windows consist of break-away openings that can be repeatedly hammered in and reset during forced-entry practice, which is very useful.
Team Leader, J.K. KORENT, kindly took over my tour. An older simpler scenario room had a mezzanine surrounding the action area for unintrusive viewing, and other rooms were also available for gentler (less destructive) scenarios. A large range with at least 20 shooting bays was available for training use (they do not carry guns, rather Glock 17s and rifles come with their patrol vehicles). Vehicles can be driven into the range building to practice Code V road stops. The spacious central gym used puzzle mats that need frequent placement and packing up. There were other padded rooms in use for defensive tactics and Taser training they are currently transitioning to the Taser 10 (as with Brisbane police).
I met A/Supervisor Darryl HIGGS, and later, unsworn members Sarah THOMAS and Luke WAHREN. This latter trainer took me for lunch and we had a great discussion about use-of-force training, which turned into a technique-sharing session on mats located in one corner of their office. I like the fact that they could “throw down” and otherwise workshop ideas as they arose. Luke was very interested in the twistlock, so hopefully it will work itself into their curriculum which is currently under review.

I enjoyed watching their team tactics in making physical arrests. They tended to make “seatbelt” and body lock types of takedowns, rather than judo-style ones. Indeed, there are more than one way to skin a cat. Surprisingly, they still were teaching striking techniques (punching, kneeing, etc.) to create space, whereas other agencies tend to steer clear of these kinds of techniques, given their optically negative association with “police brutality”. The NZ officers are not immune to public and political pressure though (e.g., they do not teach neck restraints), but there seems to be fewer constraints on the kinds of force that are not generally palatable to the public these days.
Putting through 600-800 recruits a year helps to replace 500 officers per year they lose through attrition. There are upwards of 16,000 staff members (a sizeable portion are admin members). I was surprised to learn that they hire recruits in the 18-55 year age range! Their fitness standards, like others, are relatively lax, as they too are drawing from a small recruiting puddle. Their academy time was recently increased from 16 weeks to 20 weeks, with but a single week of practicum experience (Week 16). The recruits receive 48 defensive tactics sessions that are of 100 minutes duration each. These classes are interspersed with their academic studies, giving them time to assimilate these physical skills with theory. The class sizes are small (20) with at least two instructors overseeing these classes. About half of the instructors are unsworn members and have varied backgrounds and skill sets. On top of the recruit training, the in-service members receive at least 3 training days per year (PITT: Police Integrated Tactical Training), so the instructors are busy indeed.
After two days at this fine facility, Insp. SARNEY kindly sets me up with a visit to the in-service training being done in New Zealand’s largest city, Auckland. I eagerly await to hear from my contact there, James PLATT as I hit the road for the north part of the island.
New Zealand Road Trip

Having departed Australia on April 29, 2024 (by plane from Sydney), I landed in Auckland, on the North Island of New Zealand, where I rented a small car. My contact with the RNZPC, Insp. Derek SARNEY, was very accommodating and he suggested that there would be more to see if I came by the police college on following week, so I did a quick run down south to Wellington. There were some amazing views to take in en route such as geothermal spots (Craters of the Moon National Park, Lake Taupo, etc.). I barrel through a flat expanse of semi-desert and I managed to get a souvenir from a road patrol officer for speeding. Fair enough. Though he was informed of my quest, which did not include speeding, I appeased the nearly-retired officer (who was very apologetic for issuing me a $400.00 coupon) by acknowledging that I deserved it. I am no longer a police officer and therefore not worthy of “professional courtesy”, so I paid it online a few days later. My bad and he’s sad.
I caught the 3-hour ferry from Wellington to Picton (on the South Island) and then scooted down the magnificent west coast. The mountains and ocean reminded how similar my home province of British Columbia was to New Zealand, especially as I passed three towns in a row on a 30km stretch of Highway 6 named Nelson, Richmond, and Hope, all of which have namesakes in BC (but not in that order by road). After driving through gorgeous vineyards, the coast leading south proved to be a beautiful drive also. This twisting highway (rife with roadkill possums!) skirted me between the shore, farmland and the “Southern Alps”, through the lovely town of Wanaka where I cut across SE to Dunedin (on the east coast). I meet a fantastic couple, Dave and Lesley HOWARD, that fellow Oddsquadder, Chris Graham, set me up with. It was great to have a home-cooked meal and wonderful to talk to people that I now consider to be my friends. Life on the road can be quite lonely…
After staying the night with the HOWARD’s, I started up the east coast, going inland towards the mountains to take in the two spectacular lakes of Pukaki and Tekapo, with their light-blue glacial waters, then I boot back over to the east coast, around Christchurch, and back up to to Picton to catch the late ferry over to Wellington. I find a some great places to sleep, as I visit the police college starting on May 8th.

QUEENSLAND POLICE SERVICE ACADEMY (Brisbane)
After my wonderful visit with the Melbourne training crew, I make the 1,800 km drive (18 hours) up the east coast of Australia to Brisbane in the state of Queensland. I overnighted in Holbrook (a quiet farming town sporting a submarine!) and then to the surfing paradise of Newcastle. On April 15, I make my debut at this police academy, meeting Sgt. Jimmy DONNELLY at their training facility in Wacol. They put recruits (600-900 annually) through a 32-week program. A recent election promise was poised to add many hundreds recruits by the year 2025, but to date only a few have been hired.
Like Melbourne, they use use-of-force data to help direct their training, as gleaned from mandatory reported data and body-worn cameras. They also acknowledge the terrible physical fitness state the recruits are in. Many could not even scale a 1.8 m. fence and only a 5.7 was required on the Beep Test (something I am sure I could do running backwards at age 71). No fitness classes are in the curriculum, but more than 40 hours of drill is deemed necessary. A degree of box ticking without failing them is suggested in order to churn as many recruits out as possible. With a police force strength of 12,500, there is a battle to replace those lost at an annual rate of attrition of 5.8%.
All of the defensive tactics training is done after the first 16 weeks of academic training – as a single block! It is an acknowledged “pump and dump” way of teaching, but this type of intensive training is seen as a cost-saving measure in terms of working out curriculum date-planning. There is no practicum built in their academy training, rather there are 8 weeks of this upon graduation. Often they are paired with senior field trainers afterwards. Remote postings may require some additional training, as would the specialty squads.
No role players are used in their simulations, so the physical contact is kept to a minimum to keep injury rates low (especially on the older instructors acting out the roles as arrestees). The recruits must also complete a total of 58 on-line sessions that are of minutes to hours in duration with a loose testing system in place.
Some of the trainers are not even police officers as this is viewed, again, as a cost-saving measure. At least these trainers are not involved in creating curriculum. I believe that such development should be left by those who have actually put handcuffs on people in real life. As with other Australian agencies I have visited, none use the twistlock, a technique that is far superior and versatile than any other joint lock that I know of. I have spent that last four decades researching this set of techniques. I challenge anyone to show me a more practical, tactically effective, and ethically superior technique than that of the double twistlock. This technique will catch on (I will write a book, just on this series of techniques alone).
I really do like the “wrist weave” shown to me, although I have not yet tested it, for escorting and even taking down an arrestee (taken from the popular ISR Matrix program – Intercept, Stabilize, Resolve) which is essentially a forward Figure-4 technique. It is very useful when done as a partnership tactic (see isrmatrixonline.com for this technique).
And speaking of team tactics, they do practice them using two to four officers to deal with solo miscreants. They use simple takedowns like the “easy chair” whereby the arrestee’s arms are controlled by two officers (without resorting to wristlocks as with the wrist weave) and the legs are essentially grabbed by the third officer (the fourth officer must stay out of the fray to provide a critical cover role).
Handcuffing is done with hinged cuffs (for the past two decades). No knees on the back are allowed, so a modified three-point prone cuffing is used by having the officer put one knee across the waistband and the other on the ground while a bent armlock is applied. Solo officer takedowns do not seem to be a high priority training goal, and given the limited training time available and that fact that they usually work in pairs, this seems to be reasonable. Officers are allowed to use OC spray (and on themselves voluntarily at a 60% compliance rate). The Taser is now used more sparingly due to critical reviews by groups like Amnesty International who are bent on stripping these “torture” devices out of the hands of the police (apparently, even recruits cannot consent to something that is tantamount to “torture”). They were using the very old Taser X26P, but now they are becoming the first state in Australia to roll out the new Taser 10. It was interesting to watch these singly-fired barbs (at 205-235 ft/sec.) being shot from up to 12 m. away. One shot to each thigh and you can guess what dangly bits the current may pass to complete the circuit! The voltage was dropped way down to 900 volts (from a purported 50,000 volts), while keeping the amperage very low, but the cycle rate was doubled from 22 to 44 pulses/second to keep it as an effective means of dropping an arrestee.
In 2018, lateral vascular neck restraint (LVNR) was taken out of their curriculum due to two unfortunate deaths that were associated to “chokeholds”. They too, do two-day update/recertification training days (6,000 annually). This includes topics like Tactical First Aid (emergency medical training such as wound packing, chest sealing, tourniquet applications, etc.). According to Insp. Anthony BUXTON, a $52.8 million “skills training building” was created in 2020 that is quite advanced (simulation control room, two large indoor ranges, etc.). There are usually 5 deadly police shootings annually, but there have been 16 in recent times due to an increase in the numbers of mentally ill people being addressed on the street. Keep those Tasers handy!
Both Insp. Steve EVANS from the AFP and Insp. BUXTON asked Sgt. Derek SARNEY from the Royal New Zealand Police College to entertain the prospect of hosting me in the next few weeks, so I await his response. In the meantime, I will fly to Auckland to tour the North and South Islands.