Me, In a Nutshell

Judy Weir (F. Stone) Bio

Published Books:

• The Kingdom of Gods, Fiction Suspense Romance (by F. Stone)
• Forbidden, Fiction Suspense Romance (by F. Stone)
• R. Bruce Cropley, Non-fiction (by Judy Cropley Weir)

Coming Soon:

• Secrets, Sacrifice and Stubborn Determination
• Life of a Wildlife Transport Volunteer
• Nothing Left to Loose

A Bit About a Wild Ride

My life hasn’t been easy. That’s probably true for most of us. Just when I thought I had my life journey figured out, wham! A hair pin turn would have me gasping for air and gripping the steering wheel to negotiate a sudden course change in my life. From sudden and complete changes in careers, to being drawn into wild recreational activities, I was never bored. Never!

On our cattle ranch, when an animal was in distress or injured, I was put in charge of nursing it back to health. Never mind that I was just a kid and hated the sight of blood, but I had to muster up the courage to apply home remedies. My survival rate was pretty good. It seemed like a foregone conclusion that I would progress to nursing – humans. After one year into nurses training, I bolted. Bed pans and chronic diseases pushed me in different direction; a career of dealing with drug addicts, murder, suicide, fatalities, and biker gangs. In 1983 I graduated with honors as a paramedic and worked in the City of Edmonton’s Emergency Services.

For the next twenty years, I came face to face with scenes most people would rather not think about. I loved it. Having experienced life in the most deadly and gut wrenching events, and work alongside the fire and police services, I gained the fodder for creating intense novels.

My creative DNA shocked me when I was driven to write a dystopian / paranormal / romance novel, The Guardian’s Wildchild. The novel was published in 2011 (now published under the name Kingdom of Gods). Just when I thought I could get my life back, another story took me prisoner – Forbidden. I couldn’t believe there was this kind of story within me and desperate to be told. I resisted. It was futile.

My husband was a challenge. Incredibly intelligent and a stickler for details, we shared a soft spot for animals, long drives into the country, and snowmobiling. Especially snowmobiling. We traveled to snowmobiling hot spots like British Columbia mountain ranges and in the USA.

One terrible day, our friends and us watched as two riders fell 300 feet from a mountain ridge over a ice cornice to a narrow ledge. We organized a rescue and proceeded to climb (crawl) in impossibly deep snow up the steep slope to where the two injured riders landed – a 3-hour climb. I remember looking up at that cornice. It was beautiful. The ice stretched across the mountain ridge length, and was several feet thick. It dazzled me with shades of blue and green.

Others went down the mountain to contact police who then organized a helicopter rescue. We carried the most injured man in a makeshift stretcher of frozen small tree trunks tied with rope and a kidney belt. It took two hours to get down to a larger ledge (we were above the tree line). As the sun began to descend over the horizon, my anxiety rose at the thought of spending the night in the deep snow and freezing temperature. I had enough food for myself but I had to share that with the injured men. I doubted we would survive. The wind blew snow in our face until others built a snow wall and tried to keep a fire burning – it kept disappearing down into the snow. Just when I began to make plans on how to keep my patients warm, I heard the unmistakable sound of chopper blades. Tears of relief came to my eyes as I watched the dot come closer. Eventually, the rescue helicopter landed on the area the men had created, making a hard platform of snow with their snowmobiles. 

As soon as the helicopter left with the injured men, I had the most incredible urge to get my snowmobile started. The men were busy cleaning up the area removing the wood pile and things that could cause an accident. In my head, I heard a voice, “Get out of here.” Over and over again, I heard the demand, “Get out of here.” My husband had already left (due to his health conditions, he had to leave). I was left with a group of men I did not know. They continued to consume alcohol. Finally, we started riding down the mountain. And still the voice, “Get out of here.”

Every twenty minutes, the men stopped to drink some more of their cherry whiskey. I remained on my snowmobile and ignored them but not the continuous urging to get off the mountain. On the third stop, a man approached. He was completely covered like we all were – no skin exposed. He was not someone I knew. He asked if I wanted to keep going. My intellect resisted – never go alone with strangers. But my gut flung caution aside. I nodded. He was fast but as long as I could see his red taillight ahead in the dark, I knew I wouldn’t get lost (there was no trail to follow). I squeezed the throttle and somehow managed to keep up.

When he and I arrived in the parking lot, probably an hour later, my husband loaded my machine. I told him I had to thank the man who led me off that mountain. He said, “There was no one ahead of you. You arrived alone.” I was stunned.

The next day several men went back to the site to get the two damaged snowmobiles still sitting where we had planned to camp for the night. They were shocked to find the campsite was gone. The massive cornice had tumbled down the slope and obliterated the campsite. We came so close to being killed.

Retired and focused on home life, I’m back to being a mom to four pets and discovering a new hard road to travel – being a widow. Keeping busy is the key. I am self-appointed family historian and member of the Pioneer Art Club. Also, my life journey includes transporting injured wildlife for a wildlife rescue and rehabilitation organization. There’s no monetary gain and I pay for my own expenses (food, gas) but the reward is amazing. It is such a thrill to be part of a team of like-minded people – folks willing to do just about anything to save an owl or bat or beaver, etc. I even got to participate in releasing a Bald Eagle. It had been recovering from a broken wing over a period of about a year. My Trail Blazer has put on about 10,000 kilometres in one year alone traveling to pick up an animal in distress. 

I’ve learned a few things in my seventy plus years. Thoughts are powerful. Intention is everything. Passion is the key to success.

Jasper and Feather

My most loving companion.

 

Most lovely & treasured.

 

Most fun and official greeter of visitors.

 

The Rose, my latest creation