Goodable

Brendan Fraser fought back tears on Sunday night as he accepted the award for Best Actor at the Critics' Choice Awards. Fraser won for his performance as Charlie in Darren Aronofsky's The Whale. The role was widely regarded as a triumphant comeback for Fraser. The room responded with a standing ovation for Fraser, and the camera cut to Henry Winkler and Sheryl Lee Ralph showing their support as Fraser left the stage.

<p>Brendan Fraser fought back tears on Sunday night as he accepted the award for Best Actor at the Critics Choice Awards. Fraser won for his performance as Charlie in Darren Aronofsky's The Whale. The role was widely regarded as a triumphant comeback for Fraser. The room responded with a standing ovation for Fraser, and the camera cut to Henry Winkler and Sheryl Lee Ralph showing their support as Fraser left the stage. </p>

Brendan Fraser Just Delivered This Powerful Speech at the Critics' Choice Awards

Good News Network

When Mark and Carol Benson first laid eyes on the old, abandoned Ebberston Station in 1996, it had been out of service for nearly half a century. The tracks were long gone, the buildings neglected. But where others saw decay, they saw potential — and maybe a bit of romance, too.

Over the past 30 years, the couple has poured their time, energy, and savings into restoring the North Yorkshire railway station to something remarkably close to its original charm. The result is The Old Station, a unique holiday destination where visitors can sleep in vintage train carriages, sip tea under a restored platform canopy, and soak in a piece of British railway history.

“It has been a lot of hard work,” Carol told SWNS news agency. “We are very proud of what we have achieved.”

The station, located in the village of Allerston near Scarborough, was originally part of the 16.25-mile Forge Valley Line. It opened in 1882 under the North Eastern Railway Company and was designed by the noted architect William Bell. Ebberston is still considered a strong example of Bell’s classic wayside station style, marked by sturdy stonework and simple, elegant lines.

Passenger service ended in 1950, and for decades the station sat quietly as a private residence. That is, until the Bensons showed up with a vision — and a business plan.

“We always had the idea of running a business that would enable me to continue working full time as a quantity surveyor until I could retire,” Mark said. “Carol also didn’t want to return to working at a school as a nurse, so it worked out well.”

Their first step was converting the old station master’s house into their family home. Then came the painstaking transformation of the ticket office, which they turned into a cozy two-bedroom holiday cottage. Later, they added three First Class railway carriages — fully kitted out with kitchens, bedrooms, and seating areas — offering guests the chance to spend the night inside restored train cars.

They didn’t cut corners. When they decided to renovate the old ticket office, they carefully knocked down the adjacent men’s bathroom and porter’s room brick by brick in 2021. The salvaged materials were repurposed into the new construction, keeping the historic look intact.

Most recently, they restored the original platform canopy and waiting area. Their attention to detail earned them a blue plaque recognizing the site’s historical value.

For the Bensons, it’s been more than a business. It’s been a shared passion that brought new life to a piece of England’s railway past.

Today, The Old Station offers more than a place to stay — it offers a time capsule. Guests can book nights in the old train cars or the converted ticket office and explore the surrounding countryside. And while the trains no longer run, the spirit of the station is very much alive.

To learn more, visit TheOldStationAllerston.co.uk.

Train Lovers Turn Abandoned Yorkshire Station into Dream Getaway After 30-Year Restoration

Science Alert

If we ever make contact with aliens, don’t expect a quick chat.

The nearest star system is 4.4 light-years away, which means even a simple “hello” could take more than a decade to send and receive. And even then, we’d face a bigger problem: how would we understand each other?

According to a group of Australian researchers, the answer might already be buzzing around in your backyard.

In a new paper published in Leonardo, Scarlett Howard, Adrian Dyer, and Andrew Greentree suggest that mathematics—not language, gestures, or sounds—could be the key to a universal form of communication. And their test subject? The humble honeybee.

Despite having tiny brains and a body plan that looks more alien than familiar (two antennae, six legs, five eyes), bees have demonstrated a surprising ability to grasp mathematical concepts—everything from addition and subtraction to understanding the idea of zero. That shared cognitive ground between such vastly different species, the researchers argue, offers a compelling case that mathematics could be a bridge between minds, no matter how different.

“Our thought experiment lends weight to the idea that mathematics may form the basis for a ‘universal language,’ which might one day be used to communicate between the stars,” the authors wrote.

A Shared Cognitive Tool

The idea isn’t new. Galileo once described the universe as a “grand book” written in the language of mathematics. And science fiction has long leaned into the concept, from the aliens in Contact who send prime numbers via radio, to the game-based communications in The Three-Body Problem.

But what makes the bee experiments especially interesting is that they test this idea in real life—not in theory or fiction.

Between 2016 and 2024, researchers ran a series of experiments with free-flying bees trained to perform basic math in exchange for sugar water. The bees learned to:

• Add or subtract by one
• Categorize numbers as odd or even
• Understand numerical order
• Link symbols to numerical values

They even demonstrated a grasp of “zero,” a concept many humans struggle to learn as children. If a bee can learn to solve simple math problems, the researchers argue, then so might an alien intelligence—especially one with a sophisticated brain and the capacity for abstract thought.

That idea—that mathematics isn’t just a human invention, but a product of intelligence itself—has major implications for how we might one day communicate with life beyond Earth.

Not Just Theory

Efforts to craft “universal” messages for alien audiences already rely heavily on math. The Voyager Golden Records sent in 1977 included binary-encoded diagrams of atomic numbers and DNA. The 1974 Arecibo message was built entirely from zeros and ones, arranged to depict the structure of life on Earth.

And in 2022, scientists developed a binary language meant to introduce extraterrestrials to basic human science—starting with mathematics.

Still, these efforts have a problem: we don’t know if the way we do math is the only way. Could aliens develop different versions of mathematics—something like a dialect or an alternate logic system? Could they look at numbers the way we look at music: as a cultural expression rather than a universal truth?

That’s where bees come in. As a model for what the researchers call an “insectoid alien,” bees are separated from us by more than 600 million years of evolution, yet still capable of shared understanding through abstract reasoning.

“If two species considered alien to each other—humans and honeybees—can perform mathematics, along with many other animals, then perhaps mathematics could form the basis of a universal language,” they wrote.

The team says more research is needed to understand how intelligence and math co-evolve, and whether different brains might arrive at different solutions to the same problems.

But one thing is clear: if we ever do make contact, the first conversation probably won’t be about culture, music, or politics. It might be about numbers. And if a bee can do it, maybe we’ll all have something in common after all.

Can We Talk to Aliens? Bees Might Hold the Answer, Say Scientists

A Dalhousie University student is combining marine conservation and ceramics to help bring Nova Scotia’s kelp forests back to life — one handmade clay pot at a time.

Kit Tymoshuk, a master’s student in oceanography and former art student at NSCAD, has created textured clay pots designed to anchor and grow baby kelp underwater. The idea builds on an existing restoration technique known as "green gravel," where young kelp is grown on small rocks before being returned to the ocean.

“I thought, what if we grew kelp on something that wasn’t little rocks?” Tymoshuk said. “Could I grow it on pots of clay?”

With a $5,000 grant from Ocean Wise, a B.C.-based environmental organization, Tymoshuk began collecting wild clay from across the province — including from Stewiacke and Annapolis Royal. They chose wild clay over commercial options to keep the project grounded in local materials.

“There's a lot of processing involved,” they said, noting that over five kilograms of clay were refined to remove impurities and tested to make sure it would survive the kiln’s high temperatures. In the end, Tymoshuk had to mix in some commercial clay for durability, but kept the design rooted in nature.

The pots had to do more than just look good — they needed to function as miniature kelp nurseries. That meant building in texture to help the kelp spores latch on and shaping the walls to allow sunlight to reach all sides.

“I needed the outsides to be very textured to make sure the kelp had a good foundation to adhere to,” they said. The visual inspiration came from coral, trees, and barnacles — things Tymoshuk wanted the pots to echo once they were placed back in the sea.

They threw the pots on a backyard pottery wheel before moving them to Dalhousie’s Aquatron Laboratory, where kelp spores were introduced in a controlled environment. After five weeks, baby kelp began to grow from the tops of the pots — ready to head back into the ocean.

In December, Tymoshuk and their roommate Teigan Labor, an avid snorkeller, delivered the pots to Cranberry Cove, a diving site near Peggy’s Cove. Labor had been documenting the entire process from wild clay collection to underwater placement.

“It’s been very interesting to see this art project develop,” she said, “from foraging the wild clay and processing it … and then finally to returning the kelp into the ocean in the form of art.”

Tymoshuk hasn’t returned to check on the installation yet but hopes the underwater pots are now sprouting strands of kelp — and that snorkellers visiting the site will keep an eye on the growth.

With kelp forests under threat from rising ocean temperatures, Tymoshuk hopes this fusion of science and art can play a small role in restoring local ecosystems.

Kelp tends to grow faster in the winter, and Tymoshuk is optimistic that the next visit to Cranberry Cove will show the familiar long ribbons starting to sway in the current.

In the meantime, the pots sit quietly below the surface — part art, part science, part silent regeneration.

How a Nova Scotia Student is Turning Ocean Art Into a Kelp Restoration Project

Rory Linkletter made Canadian running history in Houston on Sunday morning, becoming the first Canadian ever to run a half marathon in under one hour.

The 29-year-old Calgary native clocked 59 minutes, 49 seconds over the 21.1-kilometre course, taking 69 seconds off the previous national record held by Cam Levins. Linkletter finished seventh overall.

This was Linkletter’s fourth time racing the Houston Half Marathon — and his most memorable. In fact, he’s now lowered the Canadian record twice at this event. Back in 2022, he ran 1:01:08 to break a 23-year-old mark set by Jeff Schiebler in 1999.

“[It was] a moment that made me realize my potential in longer road races,” Linkletter said, recalling his debut in Houston in 2020, when he ran 1:01:44 just weeks before the pandemic began.

Since then, he’s returned to Houston nearly every year. In 2024, he ran 1:01:02. But in the lead-up to Sunday’s race, Linkletter hinted at something special, writing on Instagram that he was “hoping to make my fourth [Houston appearance] an equally or even greater milestone in my career.”

He delivered.

Before Sunday, his personal best was 1:00:57, set last February in Marugame, Japan. But Houston’s fast, flat course and cool winter conditions lined up perfectly this time around.

Levins, 36, from Black Creek, B.C., finished 18th on Sunday in 1:00:58 — 40 seconds off his personal best from the 2023 Vancouver First Half Marathon.

It’s not the first time Linkletter has bested Levins at this distance. The two have gone head-to-head in three half marathons, and Linkletter has come out on top every time. Their first clash was also in Houston, back in 2018. Linkletter finished 15th, 30 seconds ahead of Levins.

Their most recent battle before this one came just five months ago at the Canadian Half Marathon Championships in Edmonton. Linkletter claimed his first national title with a time of 1:03:00, edging Levins by one second in a dramatic sprint finish.

While Levins remains the Canadian marathon record holder with a 2:05:36 performance in Tokyo in 2023, Linkletter has been closing the gap. He finished ninth at the Chicago Marathon last October in a personal best 2:06:49 — just over a minute behind Levins’s national record.

At the 2024 Paris Olympic marathon, it was Levins who placed higher, finishing 36th in 2:11:56 despite racing with a broken heel bone. Linkletter placed 11 spots behind in 2:13:09.

Now based in Flagstaff, Arizona, Linkletter continues to climb the Canadian distance running ranks with consistent performances and steady improvements year after year.

Sunday’s result adds another milestone to his already impressive resume — and sets a new standard for what’s possible in Canadian road racing.

Rory Linkletter Just Became the First Canadian to Break the 1-Hour Barrier in a Half-Marathon

Space

At a glance, it looks like a spaceship dropped in the middle of a high desert plateau. But the domed structure nestled among the sagebrush and Ponderosa pines near Sunriver, Oregon, is very much earthbound — and it’s one of the best places in the United States to look beyond it.

The Sunriver Nature Center and Observatory, located just south of Bend, boasts the largest collection of publicly accessible telescopes in the country. On a crisp moonless night in mid-December, the observatory offered up a show to match the setting: a rare alignment of crystal-clear skies, deep-space nebulae, and the peak of the Geminid Meteor Shower.

“This is the ideal night,” said Alex Yeager, assistant manager of the facility. “We got a good example of everything — planets, star-forming regions, even supernova remnants.”

The observatory, a private nonprofit opened in 1991, is a designated International Dark Sky Place — the first in Oregon. It’s not just a badge of honor. The surrounding area has actively adopted dark-sky-friendly lighting practices, not only for astronomy, but for protecting nocturnal wildlife. The result is an increasingly rare thing: a pristine, unspoiled night sky.

“You can definitely tell when people come from a place where they can't see stars,” said Yeager. “Even on a night with a moon, they’ll look up and be amazed. I’ve heard so many times, ‘It’s like they’re in our lap.’”

On this night, Yeager and Observatory Manager Paul Poncy were leading nearly 50 bundled-up guests — from curious locals to out-of-town visitors — through the grounds using only red glow bracelets and lamps to preserve night vision.

Inside the main observatory dome sits a 20-inch Ritchey-Chrétien telescope, capable of zooming from planets like Saturn to far-off galaxies like Andromeda. On either side of the dome, rolling roofs exposed additional viewing areas where guests climbed stepladders to peer through preset telescopes aimed at celestial highlights.

Among the crowd was six-year-old Lucas Kincaid from Molalla, Oregon, who stood wide-eyed in a furry hooded jacket, waiting his turn.

“I saw something blue and also Saturn,” he said. “I’ve never seen a telescope this big!”

That "something blue" was likely the Orion Nebula or the Ring Nebula — both on display thanks to the dry winter air and near-total darkness.

“Winter can be really nice because we still get clear skies in Central Oregon, but a cold crisp night is when you get your best viewing,” said Yeager.

Solar viewing is also on offer during daylight hours. In November, the team upgraded its solar telescope with a Lunt Calcium K module that allows them to observe solar activity and layers of the sun in more detail. But the real magic happens after dark.

As guests moved from scope to scope, more than a dozen meteors streaked overhead — part of the Geminids, which lit up skies across North America this year. The group eventually gathered on the wide outdoor patio for a laser-guided constellation tour led by Yeager, set against the yawning, unobstructed skies of the high desert.

The observatory has been a labour of love for decades. Founded by Larry Pratt, it was long run by local legend and NASA Solar System Ambassador Bob Grossfeld, who helped elevate its reputation nationally. It continues to draw crowds year-round — not just for the science, but for the sense of wonder.

During a pre-show talk inside the meeting room, specialist Bradley McLain gave a crash course in galaxies and nebulae, aided by images from the Hubble and James Webb telescopes. Some visitors coughed through winter colds. Others just leaned forward, quietly absorbing the cosmic scale of it all.

Later, outside under the stars, more than a few guests made the classic rookie mistake of trying to peer through the spotting scopes instead of the eyepieces. Volunteers were quick to assist, illuminated name tags glowing in the dark. Even seasoned space nerds got tripped up.

“I admit it,” one visitor said. “I was one of the poor souls hopelessly gazing in the wrong spot.”

As the night wound down and the temperature dropped, visitors took one last look through the big telescope beneath the dome. Others lingered, reluctant to leave.

With development inching closer to Central Oregon’s edges, Yeager hopes dark skies like these won’t become another vanishing natural resource.

“It’s hard to get it back once you lose it,” he said. “We’re never going to turn Manhattan into a dark sky area. But as Bend and La Pine build up, it’s easier to shield lighting and try to preserve it as much as possible — and still be able to see at night.”

The stars, it turns out, are still there. You just have to know where to look.

Visitor Explores Largest Collection Of Public Telescopes In Oregon's High Desert And Is Awestruck By Dark Skies

ABC News

They move slowly and quietly, dressed in flowing saffron and ocher robes. Sometimes barefoot. Always single file. At the front of the line, padding along beside them, is a rescue dog named Aloka.

Since October, a group of Theravada Buddhist monks has been walking across the American South on a 3,700-kilometre peace walk from Texas to Washington, D.C. The goal: promote mindfulness, healing, and inner peace. Along the way, they’ve captivated thousands.

Their journey began at the Huong Dao Vipassana Bhavana Center, a Vietnamese Buddhist temple in Fort Worth, Texas. It’s expected to end in mid-February at the steps of the U.S. Capitol, where they’ll ask Congress to recognize Vesak — the Buddha’s birthday and day of enlightenment — as a federal holiday.

But the walk itself is the point.

“My hope is, when this walk ends, the people we met will continue practicing mindfulness and find peace,” said the Venerable Bhikkhu Pannakara, the group’s soft-spoken leader, who is making the trek barefoot.

The monks are practicing a form of meditation known as Vipassana, which emphasizes awareness of breath and body sensations to develop insight into reality and suffering. The discipline extends to every part of their journey, from sleeping outdoors in tents to walking barefoot across asphalt, gravel and glass.

Pannakara’s feet are now heavily bandaged.

“Mindfulness keeps me joyful despite the pain,” he said.

The trek has not been without hardship. On Nov. 19, their escort vehicle was hit by a distracted driver in Texas, injuring two monks. One lost his leg. The group now walks 18-strong, not 19.

Still, their message is reaching far beyond the highway shoulder.

Each stop brings out large, diverse crowds — from city halls to church lawns to small-town squares. At one point in Columbia, South Carolina, thousands gathered as the monks chanted on the steps of the State House. The city’s mayor, Daniel Rickenmann, issued a proclamation in their honour.

In Saluda, South Carolina, a woman named Audrie Pearce drove four hours to stand among the crowd.

“There’s something traumatic and heart-wrenching happening in our country every day,” she said. “I looked into their eyes and I saw peace. They’re putting their bodies through such physical torture and yet they radiate peace.”

The monks have been documenting their journey on social media, where their posts — often featuring their loyal dog Aloka — have gained millions of views. The dog, an Indian Pariah, first began following Pannakara during a peace walk across India in 2022. At one point, the pup became gravely ill. Pannakara carried him in his arms until he recovered.

“I named him light because I want him to find the light of wisdom,” he said.

They’ve now walked through six states, often along highways where detours aren’t possible due to private property restrictions — a sharp contrast to their past treks in South Asia. But what the Southeast lacks in walkable farmland, it’s made up for in welcome.

“In India, we can do shortcuts through paddy fields and farms,” said Pannakara. “But what’s made it beautiful here is how people have welcomed and hosted us in spite of not knowing who we are and what we believe.”

On Christmas night in Opelika, Alabama, the Rev. Patrick Hitchman-Craig of a United Methodist congregation expected a modest turnout when he offered the monks a place to sleep. Instead, about 1,000 people showed up.

“It felt like a block party,” he said. “Anyone who is working for peace in the world in a way that is public and sacrificial is standing close to the heart of Jesus, whether or not they share our tradition.”

At the nearby Collins Farm in Cusseta, another 200 people turned out — the biggest crowd the family had ever seen.

“There was a calm, warmth and sense of community among people who had not met each other before,” said Judy Collins Allen.

The monks do not preach conversion. Instead, they hope to leave behind something simpler: a sense of peace.

Brooke Schedneck, a religion professor at Rhodes College, said Theravada peace walks began in the 1990s with Cambodian monk Maha Ghosananda, who led marches through war zones after genocide.

“The core intention is to have others watch and be inspired,” she said. “Not so much through words, but through how they are willing to make this sacrifice by walking and being visible.”

For some, the impact is already deeply personal.

Becki Gable drove nearly 640 kilometers to meet the monks in South Carolina. After losing her daughter and both parents, she was searching for peace.

“I just felt in my heart that this would help me,” she said. “Maybe I could move a little bit forward in my life.”

She left with a simple daily practice given by Pannakara: Write five words every morning.

“Today is my peaceful day.”

Buddhist Monks And Their Dog are Captivating Americans While Walking For Peace

Mere hours after Albertans rang in 2026, a cattle farmer near Sedgewick, Alberta found herself counting something much rarer than the seconds to midnight.

“One, two, three?” Stacey Simpson recalled, still in disbelief.

Simpson, who owns Lucky 7 Cattle Co. with her family, was checking on Dukey, a five-year-old Red Angus heifer showing signs of labour shortly after 3 a.m. on January 1. Delivering one calf was expected. Two? Uncommon, but not shocking.

But a third?

“Just on my way out of the maternity pen, my dad looked at me and said, ‘I think you better try again,’” Simpson told CBC News. “I kind of rolled my eyes and I’m like, ‘OK, we’ll check.’”

“Sure enough, I’m shoulder-deep in this cow and I can just feel the tips on the feet on the third calf coming,” she said. “I’m like, ‘Oh no, here we go again.’”

Against the odds, Dukey gave birth to three healthy calves — now named Carla, Darla and Marla.

Triplet births in cattle are rare. Healthy outcomes for all three calves? Even rarer. But what makes this even more unbelievable is that it’s not the first time it’s happened at Lucky 7.

Dukey’s own mother delivered a set of triplets last year — Hewey, Dewey and Louie — who also survived and remain part of the herd.

“All three of those calves presented correctly on delivery, so she probably could have had all three of those calves unassisted,” Simpson said.

Her sister Kylie, who also works on the farm, pointed out just how statistically improbable this is. “We only run 35 cows,” she said. “The odds of it happening are so slim, period. But to have it happen twice is mind-blowing.”

For now, the future of Carla, Darla and Marla is still up in the air. They could be kept for breeding or sold, depending on what the family decides. But one thing’s certain — their fame is already secured.

A video showing Dukey and her trio has been viewed nearly two million times on Facebook, with comments coming in from around the globe.

“We’ll probably keep up with Marla, Carla and Darla throughout the year just because we’ve gained a huge social media following from it,” said Simpson.

In the meantime, the family is enjoying the surprise start to the year — and the unexpected internet fame that came with it.

Alberta Farmers Celebrate Birth Of Triplet Calves For Second Consecutive Year

Red hair may come with an unexpected biological perk — a built-in way to fight off cellular damage.

A new study from Spain’s National Museum of Natural Sciences suggests that the pigment responsible for red hair, pheomelanin, could serve a protective role by helping cells dispose of excess cysteine, an amino acid that can cause oxidative stress when it builds up.

The researchers used zebra finches as a model to explore how pheomelanin works. In their experiment, male birds that couldn’t produce the pigment showed more signs of oxidative damage when fed high-cysteine diets, compared to those that could make pheomelanin. Female finches, which don’t naturally produce the pigment, showed no major difference.

The findings suggest that pheomelanin — a reddish-orange pigment also found in human hair, lips, nipples, and genitals — might not just be for show. It could help manage potentially harmful surpluses of cysteine from food or environmental sources by transforming it into pigment.

In humans, genetic variants linked to red hair boost pheomelanin production. While that pigment has also been associated with a higher risk of melanoma, the study’s authors believe it may also be part of a complex system for maintaining cellular balance.

“These findings represent the first experimental demonstration of a physiological role for pheomelanin,” the researchers wrote, adding that the results could deepen our understanding of both cancer risk and how pigmentation evolved in animals.

The study was published in PNAS Nexus.

Scientists Discover Red Hair Pigment's Secret Power Against Cellular Damage

The Cool Down

Scottish students started recycling at dramatically higher rates when given the right incentive — and the results could help shape the future of recycling across the UK.

A trial across three campuses of New College Lanarkshire saw students recycle more than 20,000 bottles and cans in a short period, thanks to the installation of reverse vending machines. The initiative was a partnership between the college, Keep Scotland Beautiful, and Coca-Cola Europacific Partners.

The idea was simple: when students bought a bottled or canned drink, they paid a small deposit. That money was refunded once the container was returned to a reverse vending machine. The impact was immediate — 20,177 bottles and cans were recycled during the trial. In the same period the previous year, only 255 were collected. That’s an increase of over 7,900%.

Once the trial ended, however, recycling rates dropped by 91%, highlighting how much behavior depends on incentives and ease of access.

“This shows the real impact a deposit return scheme can have when people are given both a reason and a method to recycle,” said Barry Fisher, CEO of Keep Scotland Beautiful. “With two years until we see a U.K.-wide [deposit return scheme], it's vital that the public are aware of its introduction to ensure it is a success from the start.”

The United Kingdom is preparing to roll out a national deposit return scheme in 2027, which will add refundable deposits to certain drink containers. Similar systems already exist in countries like Germany, Norway, and Australia, where reverse vending machines are widely used — and have even helped some individuals save enough for major life purchases.

While Coca-Cola’s involvement in the trial lends weight to the project, the company continues to face criticism for its global plastic footprint. Despite making efforts to redesign packaging with less plastic and more recyclable materials, Coca-Cola still sells over 100 billion single-use plastic bottles each year and has frequently topped global rankings as the world’s worst plastic polluter.

Still, the trial’s success sends a clear message: people are willing to recycle when it’s easy and rewarding. Whether the upcoming national rollout can replicate those results remains to be seen, but in Lanarkshire at least, the future looked refreshingly circular.

Scottish Students Recycle Over 20,000 Containers in Incentive Trial

Don Moffatt doesn’t seek the spotlight, but the ice has a way of dragging him into it.

The 67-year-old Canadian, known around the world as an “ice master,” is in Milan preparing the rink for the 2026 Winter Olympics — his fifth Olympic Games, and by all accounts, his toughest yet.

Construction delays at the Milano Santagiulia hockey arena meant Moffatt couldn’t start pouring ice until just before Christmas. While sparks from welding torches still flew above him, he began his work with less than three weeks to go before the first test games. In Olympic hockey terms, that’s dangerously tight.

“Normally, we’d have months to test the ice,” Moffatt has said in past games. This time, he had days.

Over the weekend, three Italian league games were played at the venue to simulate Olympic-level usage. The results were encouraging, if not perfect. A small hole that opened up in Friday’s opener quickly went viral, especially after it was patched using a green watering can — an unintentional star in the arena’s unfolding drama. The NHL, watching closely as it prepares to decide whether its players will return to Olympic competition for the first time since 2014, is expected to make that call Sunday.

Andrea Francisi, the Milano Cortina chief games operations officer, was confident on Friday: “100 per cent,” he said, when asked if the world’s best players will be in Milan this February.

But much of that confidence rests on Moffatt’s ice. And he knows it.

A planned press conference with him was cancelled Saturday. Organizers instead issued a statement on his behalf: he was “happy and satisfied with the field of play,” and Friday’s hiccup was “a minor detail” and “in line with the usual process.”

Moffatt has seen worse.

His Olympic debut came in Torino in 2006, where just minutes before the opening faceoff, a crack split the rink all the way down to its foundation. He fixed it in time. He also built the ice in Vancouver, where Sidney Crosby scored his “golden goal” in 2010, and again in Beijing in 2022 — on a rink the same size as the one in Milan, despite early concerns that the current sheet was slightly too short.

But the challenge in Milan isn’t just time or size. It’s dust. The arena is still under construction. Drywall needs sanding. Safety barriers aren’t fully installed. And construction dust settles where Moffatt needs perfection.

The quality of Olympic ice can hinge on invisible variables — humidity, air temperature, water purity. Too many impurities and the surface gets cloudy. Not enough, and the water won’t bond properly.

To Moffatt, ice isn’t just frozen water. It’s alive. “Elastic rather than static,” as Chris Jones put it while reporting from Milan. Moffatt treats it like a sentient thing — one that needs constant measurement, adjustment, and care. He walks the rink between every period, boots pressing against the surface, pushing gently at spots only he notices. He keeps a black book of numbers — a record of air pressures, temperatures, hardness — the quiet rituals of someone who sees the art in the science.

At one point Saturday, Moffatt stood over a patch near Friday’s repair, staring into the ice like a fisherman watching his line in a still, frozen lake. His eyes narrowed.

There are 25 days to go until Olympians hit the ice in Milan. The arena, rushed and raw, is still a work in progress. But if the surface reaches Moffatt’s standard, most people won’t think twice about it.

And that’s how he prefers it.

Back in Peterborough, Ontario, Moffatt learned to love ice while watching his dad flood their backyard rink. He saw his reflection in the thin layer of water, waiting for it to freeze. Now, half a world away, he’s chasing that same reflection — only this time, the stakes are higher.

There’s still work to be done before the wonder.

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