The memorable journey of my buddy’s ashes

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 15/06/2019 (2644 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

Today, I want to tell you a true story about love and a friendship that extends beyond the grave.

It’s the story of my longtime buddy Doug Swanlund, whose career as a commercial airline pilot allowed him to travel to some of the most exotic locations in the world.

Doug was part of a large network of lifelong friends — including me and my brother Brad — who grew up playing hockey and football in Winnipeg and remained connected, even after their careers forced many to move to Vancouver and Toronto and other non-Prairie outposts.

Along with being the sort of calm and collected pilot who makes jittery passengers feel safe and secure, Doug was the life of every party. When he walked into a room, he was the funniest man in it.

Which barely scratches the surface of why we were all so devastated when, on Sept. 14, 2017, Doug lost a long and heroic battle with cancer, one he fought with extraordinary humour and an appreciation for the friends who fought alongside him, a group that came to be known as “the Village.” Doug was 62.

What I want to tell you about today is the fact that, in the almost two years since we lost our unforgettable friend, Doug has probably travelled as much as he did when he sat behind the controls of an Air Canada 787.

Since Doug’s death on Vancouver Island, his beloved wife, Lonni, and a close circle of friends have been on a mission to take his cremated remains around the world and sprinkle them in places he dreamed of visiting, and places that were special to him.

When they take a trip anywhere, a little bit of Doug goes along for the ride.

This past Sunday evening, a 29-foot motorhome pulled up in front of my house and out popped two of my oldest friends, who now live on the West Coast — Jimmy Thompson and Fred Smith. Riding shotgun with them were Doug’s ashes, tucked into a leather carrying case that resembles a small treasure chest.

I grilled some steaks and we sat at the dining-room table, where the treasure chest was given pride of place as we chatted and laughed about the Doug Swanlund Memorial World Tour.

Before arriving at my home, the boys and their massive motorhome had transported Doug to a large reunion of former school, hockey and football pals at a cottage on Lake of the Woods to celebrate the fact they were all turning 65 this year.

Jim and Fred sprinkled some of the cremains under a shady tree overlooking Falcon Lake. “He’s going to have a great time checking out the girls on the beach,” Jim quipped. Here in Winnipeg, they also made a quick stop to leave a smidgen of Doug on the front lawn of his old home on Campbell Street.

At last count, Doug’s ashes have been sprinkled in 27 locations around the world, including:

● Under two bridges in Venice

● In a rose bush by a pool at a villa in Tuscany

● Under the Lover’s Arch in Capri, where a kiss ensures you’ll be happy forever

● In Rome’s legendary Trevi Fountain

● Under a tall tree on a tortoise farm in the Galapagos Islands

● On top of a lodge overlooking the Amazon River

● On an island in Lake Titicaca on the border of Bolivia and Peru

● At the Sun Gate, once the main entrance to Machu Picchu in Peru

The list goes on and on, and includes domestic locations such as the firepit at his family cottage on the West Coast, but I think you get the picture.

The journey of our beloved buddy’s ashes began in April 2018, not long after his death, when Lonni and a few friends scattered Doug in a place he’d always wanted to visit — Ground Zero in Hiroshima, Japan.

That trip had been booked before Doug died, and after his death, there was no way they were going to leave him behind. “Lonni smuggled Doug into the country; he didn’t have a passport,” my pal Fred, the unofficial guardian of the ashes, recalls. “That was his first drop-off point — Hiroshima.

“Lonni and Doug had planned on doing lots of travelling. When he passed, it was just natural to take him along. It’s just us honouring Doug. Having him around, it just feels right. It was way too early for him to go. We had all these places we wanted to visit. I know in my heart he wanted to go to Japan. How could we possibly leave him behind?”

Jim and Fred got more than a few raised eyebrows during their long trip out from the coast as they toted Doug’s ashes into an assortment of roadside diners and bars.

“We’ve had nothing but positive experiences,” Jim, also a retired pilot, tells me. “In Cadillac, Saskatchewan, the bartender took Doug and put him on a place of honour — behind the bar between two bottles of rye.”

Fred chimes in: “Everywhere we go, people have lit up when they hear the story. Doug’s been a real hit. I’m surprised more people don’t do this.”

And the journey’s far from over, as there’s a trek to the Greek islands planned for next year. “Doug’s seat is reserved,” Fred says, laughing. “Air Canada won’t know they have one more passenger.”

On Wednesday night, my pals were sitting in a watering hole in sweltering Osoyoos, B.C., enjoying a cold one and watching St. Louis win the Stanley Cup when they suddenly realized Doug’s ashes had been left back in the camper.

Despite the blistering heat, they marched the three kilometres back to the camper, fetched the makeshift urn and carried Doug back to the bar. Because you never leave a friend behind — at least not all of him.

doug.speirs@freepress.mb.ca