February snowstorm…truck stuck…colc


TERRIBLE LAST WEEK  OF FEBRUARY 2019

alan skeoch
Feb  25, 2019


“HELLO,  Andrew,  I am stuck at the farm…truck spinning…snowdrifts…so cold  that the brass  monkey story might be true…can you come?”

“Not sure I can get away”

“Put this down  as  an  emergency.”

“Give me an hour.”

And  so Andrew came to my  rescue.  This was  not a  day for travel but I had  a movie crew who needed our
institutional  beds right away…residential school movie being filmed  on Six Nations Reserve…needed  beds
that looked  as miserable  as possible..  Wind  was blowing white outs…70 car and truck  pile up on highway 400
had  closed  highway both ways…lots of others  accidents.   Just getting to farm I passed  three cars in recent
accident smashed  all to hell with air bags deployed.  Under the snows ice  lots  of  it.

I was overjoyed  to reach the farm.  But the joy was short lived.  Truck  spun  off a 3 foot snowdrift into the side of the road  where tires
just spun on  ice and drifted  snow buried back end in no time.  Even  walking to farmhouse  was tough…hands frozen because
I took time to take these pictures.   OK, everyone say it loud  and  clear…”I Told  You So!”

Look at those bed frames.  Beautiful! Chipped paint…so authentic that they could not be replicated by studio art people.   People don’t know
just how valuable things  in this  condition appear to movie makers.  “Alan,  we cannot get this  kind  of set material anywhere else.”

That kind of flattery drive me forward.  Today  I  should  have stayed  home.  

But the effort getting the bed frames to the road  could not be cancelled…nor the effort loading the mattresses and bed boards…It took Marjorie and
I the full day Sunday just getting these  wonderful beds ready for pick  up.  



I sent a  note to Shane…”Do not come, road  impassable”…but he was too busy  holding on to the steering wheel of his rental  van for the and was
blowing between 60 and  100 km per hour…white outs.  He pulled  up … two trucks on an empty road…his  and  mine.  Only his was not trapped in snow.
He could make  a getaway. 


Picture  above shows just how deep drifts  had become…whole farm was being scoured…Until  Andy arrived  with our tractor and  are-end snowplow.



Wind so strong that interior of the green house was  converted  into something for a horror movie


That’s  Shane bracing himself  as we loaded  the beds.


Even the tractor could not pull me out…Andrew had to dig me out first.  Why  did  I not help?  Someone had to
record the event…

Take a close look at the road…under the snowdrifts is a solid  sheet of ice  running down  the Fifth Line.




“Dad, is it necessary for you to get into so  much trouble, so often?”

“Well,  Andrew I just do this so I can get payback fro  all those  years
that I changed  your diapers, piled your pablum, gavelled in front of your teachers,  washed  your  clothes, made the meals…made your  bed…”

“Dad, you never did any of  that…mom did it all.”

“Right, forgot about that.  But I did keep the record with my  camera…and  am still  doing so.”

“Now turn  the truck  around … you are free to go.”

“Did  you see that snowplow…just covered  us with the stuff  you plowed.”

“I will be fine…get moving before you get trapped again.”


Fwd: BARN RAISING, ERIN TWP, 1820, “MYSERY ON A SCRAP OF PAPER DATED 1940”

Last name removed


Begin forwarded message:


From: SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
Subject: BARN RAISING, ERIN TWP, 1820, “MYSERY ON A SCRAP OF PAPER DAED 1940”
Date: February 17, 2019 at 12:53:32 PM EST
To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>



MYSTERY FOUND ON A SCRAP OF PAPER DATED 1940

(listen to Joelle, fiddler extraordinaire…in your imagination)


ALAN SKEOCH
Feb.2019


Picture of a barn frame…It was customary for the barn builder to walk the high beams in a kind of celebration.
Often whiskey was  involved.  This picture is not the alleged Skeoch barn on the Cruickshank property.

AN  ODD STORY CAPTURED ON BACKSIDE OF A 1939 CALENDAR.

alan skeoch





By chance this scrap of paper fell from a  pile of old letters…it led  me on a trip.  Please
Join me.


This letter was never mailed…written about 1940.  Hard to say  the real  origin as it has been transcribed onto the back
of a  1939/1940 calendar   Written in pencil…faded…but translated below.

Mrs. F. Slater,
73 Heywood St.,
Moss side
Manchester
England

Wrtten in pencil, so faint that in another decade it will be indecipherable..

Found  among papers  and clippings I bought at an auction sale years ago


ERIN COUNTY BARN RAISING 1820 ?

“This is  a true story a barn raising in the early history of the settlement of Erin Township, in the County of Wellington,
Whisky was cheap in those days and it was the custom to have a keg on hand for the barn raising. The whiskey was
procured and  stored  in the old barn while the carpenters  were in the woods preparing the timbers for the new barn.
The good lady paid a visit to the whiskey keg and  when the mend came in to dinner the good lady was in high good
humour but no dinner was ready. The husband and with the help of a carpenter put up the dinner.  After  dinner they 
went out to the barn and  getting the offending keg. They, with the aid of a rope slung it high up in rafter out of reach.
Later in the day the good lady paid a another visit to the barn only to find the whisky out of reach, however, she set her wits
to work going back to the house. She returned with the wood tub and the rifle setting the tub under the keg she put
a bullet through the keg and caught the whiskey in the tub.   When the men came in to supper she was in quite good
humour but a good  supper was prepared, after supper she told what she had  done.  She said she didn’t care so’
much for the  whiskey but she was not going to be outwitted by the men. The next day the neighbours were called
for the raising. the men putting up the barn, the ladies preparing the meals. By supper the last rafter was on and
the floor laid. After supper all the young and old folks gathered  on the new barn floor.  The fiddler and caller were
on hand then to the tune of Turkey in the Straw,  Old Irish Washerwoman, and the Scotch reels and —  On with the
dance which was kept up until the wee hours.  Incidentally the first settler came into Erin Township in the year 1820.”






SILLY OR MEANINGFUL?

Was this copied from an original written 120 years earlier.  Hard to say.  This unsigned rewrite was done sometime
in 1940.  My thoughts?  1) There may be a  kernel of truth…small kernel  2) The  story is the kind of story that
would  be told at a one  room rural school Christmas social.   These evenings featured short plays, speeches,
music (as mentioned) and as much humour as possible.   Women were usually  associated with the Temperance
movement as cheap whiskey (25 cents a gallon in early 19th century) caused a lot of trouble in small communities.
To sophisticated ears today this  story seems rather silly but mid winter socials were not sophisticated.
Associaitons of alcohol with barn raisings was no exaggeration.although hardly mentioned in the laundered
barn raisings.   Kernels of truth acted like sand in a clam shell.  Layers and layers of exaggerations resulted in
a pearl of  a story.

ALEXANDER SKEOCH..TRUTH OR FICTION

I am not sure about the truth of the hearsay concerning Alexander Skeoch and barn raising.  One story has
Alexander walking the top beam of the barn…a topping off ceremony.   Allegedly, He had been drinking whiskey and
fell from the top beam.  Injured  or dead?  I have no idea.  I even suspect the story is false.  I am not even
sure a person called Alexander Skeoch was a  barn builder.  Alexander Skeoch, however, did exist. 
 The kernel of truth came from Christina  Skeoch
and Evan Cruickshank who assured me that a person name Alexander Skeoch did build the Cruickshank  barn.
I have a picture of t he barn to prove its existence.  On one occasion I even entered the barn, by then a part of
land owned by Imperial  Oil.  A huge pile of grain had  been dumped on the threshing floor and ignored since
the grain was being eaten by a bunch of rats some of which were dead from poison.  The barn looked great
but its future  seemed tenuous.   I have no proof that Alexander Skeoch built the barn or
walked the high beam to celebrate or had  been drinking whiskey.  If the barn was built around  1890, then Alexander 
Skeoch would have been 46 years  old.   A barn builder possibly.





WHAT HAPPENS WHEN PAST AND PRESENT COME TOGETHER?

COMMUNITY MID WINTER CELEBRATION AT WOODSIDE SCHOOL 1940   (HYPOTHETICAL)

WINDMILL THEATRE WNTER CELEBRATION OF CELTIC MUSIC, PORT CREDIT UNITARIAN CHURCH, FEB.  2019  (REAL)


I know this  requires a stretch of the imagination but stick with me for a moment or two.  On Feb. 16 we attended a wonderful performance at the Windmill Theatre.  A festival of Celitc Music.  As I 
watched  and listened my mind jumped back in time to the small  farm community on the Fifth Line of Erin Township in the late 1940’s where my grandparents provided some of the music…Granddad on the violin
playing the Devil’s Dream, Grandma singing Roses  of Picardy…and everyone else contributing with dancing or elocution (public speaking)…or food  and drink.  Drink?  No alcohol because the
Temperance Movement had been victorious in the battle with the demon Whiskey.  Heavy drinking of cheap whiskey had damaged many  families.  It was fortunate that horses
knew the way  home after some of those heavy drinking evenings such as barn raising celebrations. Motor vehicles  had no memory.

So look over the pictures below,  taken Feb. 15, 2019…grainy pictures…and let your mind  roll back to Woodside School in 1940.  Someone is giving a speech on a  barn raising way back in 1820
in Erin Township.  First, however , listen to the music.  Join in with the lyrics if you wish.

MASTER OF CEREMONIES:

“AND ON THE VIOLIN…FIDDLER  JOELLE”, A NEW RESIDENT ON THE FIFTH LINE, LIVING ON THE OLD MCLEAN FARM.
JOELLE WILL PLAY A FEW REELS AND JIGS…AND THEN WATCH HER FEET AS SHE TAP DANCES  HER WAY TO YOUR HEARTS.
JOIN IN IF YOU WISH…SING, CLAP,  DANCE…WHATEVER.  WE ARE GOING TO DISPELL THE WINTER DOLDRUMS  TONIGHT….”








SKYE BOAT SONG

Speed, bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing,
Onward! the sailors cry;
Carry the lad that’s born to be King
Over the sea to Skye.

Loud the winds howl, loud the waves roar,
Thunderclaps rend the air;
Baffled, our foes stand by the shore,
Follow they will not dare.

DANNY BOY

Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,
From glen to glen and down the mountain side;
The summer’s gone, and all the roses falling;
It’s you, it’s you must go, and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow,
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow;
I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow;
Danny boy, Oh Danny boy, I love you so.



“My Love Is Like A Red Red Rose”



Oh, my love is like a red, red rose 
That’s newly sprung in June 
Oh, my love is like a melody 
That’s sweetly played in tune 
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, 
So deep in love am I 
And I will love thee still, my dear, 
Till all the seas gang dry. 
Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, 
Till all the seas gang dry 
And I will love thee still, my dear, 
Till all the seas gang dry. 

‘Til all the seas gang dry my, my dear 
And the rocks melt with the sun 
And I will love thee still, my dear 
While the sands of life shall run 
But faretheewell, my only love 
Oh, faretheewell a while 
And I will come again, my love 
Tho’ ‘t were ten thousand mile 
Tho’ ‘t were ten thousand mile, my love 
Tho’ ‘t were ten thousand mile 
And I will come again, my love 
Tho’ ‘t were ten thousand mile.



GONE  NOW?  MAYBE NOT!  

Gone now.  The local mid winter community gatherings at Woodside School.   Television killed them dead  as  a  door nail.  Entertainment just
got too professional .  Corny homespun entertainment died.   I was lucky to be around just before these amateur evenings faded away.  I think
the story of the barn raising that I rescued from a scribbled note on an old piece of calendar was written to be performed.   When the farm families
around  Woodside school organized a social evening everyone was expected to play a role.  Some would sing, some play the fiddle or the pump organ,
some would  dance … and , always, some would tell stories of the old days.  That is what i think that scrap notation of a barn raising in Erin Township,
Wellington County was meant to record.   The barn raising described likely never happened.  The facts were never allowed to get in the way of a good
story.   Facts  can be embellished.  So here is the barn raising story in my words.

BARN RAISING STORY FROM  THE OLD DAYS

“I was there when the first barn in the township was erected.”
“That was  1820…this is  1940…that was 120 years ago…you couldn’t have been there.”
“OK…OK..I heard this story from my grandmother.”

“Seems the  wife got into the whisky while the men were in the bush squaring timbers for the new barn.  She drank 
a couple of dippers full and  fell asleep.  When the men came home they expected a big meal but got nothing.  So
my Grandfather rustled up a quick meal and let the men have some goodly cups of whiskey before the went back
to the bush.  “What if she gets at the whisky again?”
“She won’t.” 
“How can you be sure?”
“Because we are going to string the keg up on the high beam where she can’t reach.”
The men raised the whiskey high above the threshing floor…thought they had outwitted 
the farm wife.”
“Not so, when she saw the barrel high in the air she went back to the house and got the rifle
and the wooden wash bucket.  Placed the bucket on the floor and then put a bullet through
the barrel.  Pow!  Out poured the whiskey which was caught in the bucket.  When the men came
back expecting the a big barn raising mean, they got nothing. 
 SHE WAS ASLEEP AND THE  WHISKEY WAS GONE.
No huge  dinner and no whiskey.
“Why no whiskey? There should have been lots in the wooden tub.”
“Tub had dried out…leaked the whiskey onto the new threshing floor…a kind of baptism.”
“ And That’s why we do not have whiskey at barn raisings anymore.”


ALAN SKEOCH
FEB. 2019


John Skeoch’s Threshing outfit , Roverhurst, Sask, 1927

While  thrashing his wheat crop of 1927, John  Skeoch hired a photographer to capture  just how

much he had  invested in his enterprise…Steam Tractor,  Threshing machine,  hay wagons, hired help (and neighbours).
This was  no small venture.   While the home farm was in  Fergus, Ontario, the Skeoch brothers also had  sections (640 acre sections)
near Riverhurst, Saskatchewan.   John and his  wife Anne lived  in the west … built a  stone house as was the custom with Scottish
farmers.  That proved to be an error as large numbers of Garter snakes also like the stone foundations.  Eventually the house had
to be abandoned.  No  matter…the wheat crops were terrific.  (P.S.  I like the word thrashing better than threshing…as in “I will give you
a good thrashing”…That’s what they  did to the wheat tassels.)

Re:Photo…a little lobsided …had to do this  to avoid glare.

alan skeoch
Feb. 2019


When Marjorie, Kevin, Andrew and  I visited the Keillor farm (village nearest to the Skeoch farms)… the ruins of these machine were part of  uncle John”s graveyard for vintage implements.  We did not have much
time to appreciate them though because  a big windstorm blew up and we had a hell of a time holding down  our tent.  My pants  disappeared  in that windstorm.   Next morning we had
breakfast with Aunt Anne  and  Uncle John in the stone farm house.  Yes, the snakes were there…peeping  at us  through cracks in the stone wall…and  curled up in the coffee cups.  You are probably wondering
about my pants.  Maybe you think I had breakfast in my underwear.  Let me leave that tough in your head.

alan skeoch
Feb. 2019

1955 camping trip…March….Easterb break coming Etobicoke Creek

THINGS WERE DIFFERENT THEN….1955…INNOCENCE 

(Camping trip … Easter Break 1955)

“What’s up?”
“Easter Break coming…”
“Let’s go on a camping trip…the three of us.”
“Where?”
“Etobicoke Creek is  nice and  wild…abandoned  farms.”
“How?”
“Well, we could hitch hike part of the way, as usual.”
“Hey Al, remember the potato farmer last summer?”
“You guys just laughed at me…I was in the front seat…you two in the back… laughing.”
“He  wanted to know your sex life…”
“What sex life?”
“Precisely.”
“Hitch hiking is  interesting…that time we hitch hiked up to Lake Simcoe..”
“Got rides right away…only odd  character was that potato farmer.”
“Sort of sad guy when I think about it.”
“You should  have invented a sex life, Al…told him what he wanted to hear.”
“Actually I felt sorry for him…and embarrassed.”

Those were the days, mid 1950’s, when the small world  in which we lived was quite innocent even though
just ten years earlier the world had been ravaged by a war that tore the innocence away from many people.
Canada had changed.  Lots of jobs…wealth increasing.  Also massive immigration of people from 
Europe including the former enemy nations of Germany and Italy…and Eastern Europe.  We lived in
a nation which had  been shielded from the blood letting.  Teen  agers  in Canada felt free and safe.

“So let’s pack up and  head for Etobicoke…three or four nights under the stars.”
“Food?”
“Maybe try a  steak first night…then Kraft dinner for rest of trip.”



“Just pile our gear beside the highway.,,stick out your thumbs Russ and  Jim…”
“My Humberside football jacket should help.”
“Jesus, the first car stopped.”
“Hi, boys, where you going?”
“Etobicoke …west of Highway 27 along Burnhamthorpe Road.”
“Pile your stuff in the back…I can get you outside  the city.”
“We  want to camp along the Creek.”
“Lots of empty spots there now…nobody to bother you.”
“Why are so many of those farms abandoned?”
“Not abandoned…soon be a different forest of new houses….Toronto is changing big time.”
“We love exploring the empty farm barns…”
“Cold  nights boys…frost.”
“But feels like everything is about to burst into life…smells wonderful.”
“How old  are you guys?”
“Sixteen or so.”
“Lucky generation…everything is going to fall your way…jobs, marriage, homes,..you will
have your own cars  even.”
“Not so sure  abut that.”
“Just you wait and  see…”



And so the three of us took off for the  wilds of Etobicoke.  Russ Vanstone, Jim Romaniuk and  Alan  Skeoch.   1955.  Explorers of a  sort.
Ready to face the brave new world.   Breaking free.  Carrying what we needed.  Except for one mistake that camping trip.  We did
pack three ‘minute steaks’ but forgot to bring knives, forks and  spoons.  Eating with our hands  was OK though…and we had
our Boy Scout knives.


“Hey Russ, there’s water in the well.”
“Use that stick as a pump handle…”
“Should  we drink the water?”
“Sure…those little chunks are just fleck of rotten wood…skim them.”
“Shouldn’t we use the Creek water?”
“We could…although remember when we were diving
off the old iron bridge last summer and someone said 
the muck below the water was sewage.”
“Didn’t kill us.”
“Let’s trust this  pump.”


“Cold  night.”
“But sun is out now…swim is  possible.”
“Bragging rights…did you know we swam across a 
raging river on our Easter Break.”
“Make it sound big.”



Exporers


The Campsite…all  kinds of stuff floating in the river that we could use.


Along with our gear we even packed a  few books.  No flies to bother us in March  of 1955.  Flies wild come later in the year.

“Hey Al, Look over here…dead horse floating in the Creek.”
“Sure enough.”
“Must have died over the winter.”
“Or worse…maybe shot by one of the farmers  as he
left the farm.”
“Glad  we didn’t drink the water.”


Alan Skeoch, cooking.  Jim Romaniuk drying himself off after swimming across the raging Etobicoke Creek.

TEST:  Compose a list of our camping gear using this picture asa guide.

NOTE:  RUSS Vanstones Humberside Football jacket .  All three of us were on the team, none of us
in exalted postions.  That would come in time.

CONCLUSION

On a clear day in January 2018, I drove west along Burnhamthorpe Road from Highway 427…a trip I had avoided for decades because
I wanted the memory of this camping trip in 1955 to never be wiped  out.  Feared that the place would be covered in houses…the barns all
gone…the  dead horse now a skeleton somewhere out on the bottom of Lake Ontario.   But I was  surprised.  This spot where we
camped is  unchanged.  It became a park.  And the raging river looks much like it does in these pictures.

WHY GO CAMPING?  

We went for the joy of it.  Not because there was  nothing else to do.  We played football, basketball…were members of the Presbyterian  
Young Peoples Society, Boy Scouts, Drama Society…and we were very interested in girls even though they were less interested in us.
Camping was, however,  a top priority.  Why?  Because of the challenge of the raging river.  We swam across that river often…It was  so
dangerous that we took along an inflated air mattress just in case the river swept us down to Lake Ontario.

alan skeoch
Feb. 2019

ANY SNAKES? THE CRUEL SAGA OF THE ONTSRIO VIPER


ALAN SKEOCH
FEB. 2019
(supplement to Ten Years  in the Wilderness)


  THE DANGEROUS ONTARIO VIPER:  A CRUEL JOKE

“Any snakes?”
“Yes, watch out for the Ontario Viper.”
“Ontario viper?”
“Deadly?…many around here?”
“Lots…they love swamps like this.”

Picture: Much of the 2400 hectare Beverly Swamp looked like this picture only the clumps of trees were cedars.  The water was
shallow, maybe a foot or two in most places.  But occasionally!!!  Occasionally there were deep holes where clumps of cedars
had been blown over.  These holes could be 3 or 4 feet deep.  “And?”  And I am not proud of what happened here. Sometimes 
jokes are just not funny in retrospect.


Picture:   Notice the person in the high hip waders.  His name is Maxie Ranasigh.   He feared snakes  would get him.  That was  all
we needed to know.  “Let’s have some fun with Maxie.”   What followed was a very bad joke.

ANY SNAKES?

The snake incident makes  me flinch when I think about even now…65 years later.
Let’s call it ‘the Ontario Viper’ saga.  You will think less of us after reading this confession, that’s for sure.
 Remember we were 19 or 20 when this  grand idea popped into our
heads.  And we were doing a seismic job through the Beverly Swamp, a  2400 hectare wild land south of
Hamilton.   Dan B. was my partner on that seismic job.  In addition we were assigned  a  Colombo Plan
geophysicist from Ceylon named Maxi Ranasingh.   I’m afraid we did not set a fine example of
Canadian graciousness.  What we thought was funny some readers may consider tasteless … even gross.


Picture:  You are looking at the ONTARIO VIPER….commonly known as the HARMLESS GARTER SNAKE…but Maxie did not know that.


“These Canadian swamps  can be dangerous, Maxie.  So be Careful.”
“Why?  What danger?
“The deadly Ontario viper could  be in here?”
“Ontario viper?”
“Deadliest snake in Canada…perhaps three feet long, dark green with a thin red  stripe “
“Any in this  swamp?”
“They are everywhere.”
“I got these hip waders to avoid getting wet.  Will they also protect me?”
“Should  do unless you accidentally step into a big swamp hole and a viper crawls down inside the hip wader.”
“You boys  lead on.”



And so  we entered  a long stretch of the Beverly swamp that looked much like the photo
…trees that loved water, mostly clusters of cedars.  Some of these clusters had been toppled
by a windstorm thereby creating deep holes in the normally shallow swamp.  Dan and I stirred  up
the mud and broken tree roots as  we crossed  through one of these holes…a  deep one.  

“Carefull, Dan, this  looks like s deep one.”
“Keep the instrument high.”

“Did you tell Maxi about the hole?”
“No, did you?”
“Nope.”
“Then he doesn’t know the hole is about three feet deep?”
“He has no idea.”

Then Maxie stepped in the hole.  Suubmerged up to his ass Black gucky water poured into his  hip waders…
 pieces of tree roots that could seem like snakes  with a little
imagination.   Maybe an Ontario viper slipped down
his legs along with all the guck.

“MY waders are full!…I can’t move…slimy things down my legs…”

No easy escape.  The water filled waders were like the cement overshoes in gang murders.  Maxie could
barely move.  He tumbled his way to a clearing.  Scared for sure. 

Now Dan and I thought this was really funny.  We even considered it part of Maxie’a education…the practical
side of being a  geophysicist.   Whenever a new person joined s field crew, jokes like this were rampant.  Like 
Scratching the tent wall simulating a bear when the new guy is wrapped up in his sleeping bag.   Or hiding
his fly net when the black flies  were at their worst.  Or making sure the worms in the bacon slab are visible
and not removed.  Or telling stories abut bush planes that crash.  “Those seabees fall like rocks if the engine falls, no
glide.”   Or putting pine gum on the sitting bar at the latrine.  Or telling a new guy that pike are delicious and
bone free.  Or stopping suddenly…”Did you hear that? We’re being tracked by a wolverine.”  Or telling a new 
guy why we do not carry guns…”Danger we might shoot each other…cooped up together breeds hatred.”
Or be careful with the Forcite…”slide the detonator in slowly…if there is too much friction it could explode.”

The chances  to pick on a new man were almost infinite.

But the joke on Maxi backfired.  I still feel badly about it.

After Maxie emptied his hip waders and after we were through laughing we queried Maxie 
on snakes in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka).

“Any vipers in Ceylon, Maxie?”
‘Many of them…and other deadly snakes well.”
:Deadly?”
“If bitten, a victim has about 30 to 60 minutes to get to a hospital or die.”
“No joke, Maxie?   Are snakes that deadly common?”
“Very common in certain places.”
“Names?”
“Sea snake, Saw Scaled Viper  (kills 5,000 people annually) , Russels’s Viper (kills 25,000 people annually), Hump Nosed Viper, Green Pit Viper, Common Krait (KILLS 10,000 per year in India), Common Cobra, Ceylon Krait, …
all are very bad.  One kind  of cobra can spit its venom up to 3 metres away.  That’s 10 feet.  Snakes in my country are not funny.  And there are lots of them.
“How many?”
 “We have more than 93 snake varieties…many deadly snakes. Of the five most dangerous snakes in the world, three of them
are in my country. Ceylon has the highest rate of snakebite deaths in the world.”

NO LAUGHING MATTER…OBVIOUSLY WE WERE EMBARASSED.

You might be surprised to know that these facts made our little joke less  funny.  Below are four of the most deadly snakes that Maxie Ranasingh  could have described
if we could have stopped laughing at our joke as he struggled to pull off his hip waders.

Common krait[edit]

Common krait (Bungarus caeruleus)

The common krait (Bungarus caeruleus) is often considered to be the most dangerous snake species in India. Its venom consists mostly of powerful neurotoxins which induce muscle paralysis. Clinically, its venom contains presynaptic and postsynaptic neurotoxins,[67] which generally affect the nerve endings near the synaptic cleft of the brain. Due to the fact that krait venom contains many presynaptic neurotoxins, patients bitten will often not respond to antivenom because once paralysis has developed it is not reversible.[68] This species causes an estimated 10,000 fatalities per year in India alone.[66] There is a 70-80% mortality rate in cases where there is no possible or poor and ineffective treatment (e.g., no use of mechanical ventilation, low quantities of antivenom, poor management of possible infection). Average venom yield per bite is 10 mg (Brown, 1973), 8 to 20 mg (dry weight) (U.S. Dept. Navy, 1968), and 8 to 12 mg (dry weight) (Minton, 1974).[67] The lethal adult human dose is 2.5 mg.[68][69] In mice, the LD50 values of its venom are 0.365 mg/kg SC, 0.169 mg/kg IV and 0.089 mg/kg IP.[15] 



Russell’s viper[edit]

Russell’s viper (Daboia russelii)

Russell’s viper (Daboia russelii) produces one of the most excruciatingly painful bites of all venomous snakes. Internal bleeding is common. Bruising, blistering and necrosis may appear relatively quickly as well.[70] The Russell’s viper is irritable, short-tempered and a very aggressive snake by nature and when irritated, coils tightly, hisses, and strikes with lightning speed. This species is responsible for more human fatalities in India than any other snake species, causing an estimated 25,000 fatalities annually.[66] The LD50 in mice, which is used as a possible indicator of snake venom toxicity, is as follows: 0.133 mg/kg intravenous, 0.40 mg/kg intraperitoneal, and about 0.75 mg/kg subcutaneous.[71] For most humans, a lethal dose is approximately 40–70 mg. However, the quantity of venom produced by individual specimens is considerable. Reported venom yields for adult specimens range from 130–250 mg to 150–250 mg to 21–268 mg. For 13 juveniles with an average length of 79 cm, the average venom yield was 8–79 mg (mean 45 mg).[13]




Saw-scaled viper[edit]

Saw-scaled viper (Echis carinatus)

The Saw-scaled viper (Echis carinatus) is small, but its unpredictability, aggressive temper, and lethal venom potency make it very dangerous. This species is one of the fastest striking snakes in the world, and mortality rates for those bitten are very high. In India alone, the saw-scaled viper is responsible for an estimated 5,000 human fatalities annually.[66] However, because it ranges from Pakistan, India (in rocky regions of Maharashtra, Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh and Punjab), Sri Lanka, parts of the Middle East and Africa north of the equator,[72] is believed to cause more human fatalities every year than any other snake species.[73] In drier regions of the African continent, such as sahels and savannas, the saw-scaled vipers inflict up to 90% of all bites.[74] The rate of envenomation is over 80%.[75] The saw-scaled viper also produces a particularly painful bite. This species produces on the average of about 18 mg of dry venom by weight, with a recorded maximum of 72 mg. It may inject as much as 12 mg, whereas the lethal dose for an adult human is estimated to be only 5 mg.[18] Envenomation results in local symptoms as well as severe systemic symptoms that may prove fatal. Local symptoms include swelling and intense pain, which appear within minutes of a bite. In very bad cases the swelling may extend up the entire affected limb within 12–24 hours and blisters form on the skin.[76] Of the more dangerous systemic symptoms, hemorrhage and coagulation defects are the most striking. Hematemesismelenahemoptysishematuria and epistaxis also occur and may lead to hypovolemic shock. Almost all patients develop oliguriaor anuria within a few hours to as late as 6 days post bite. In some cases, kidney dialysis is necessary due to acute renal failure (ARF), but this is not often caused by hypotension. It is more often the result of intravascular hemolysis, which occurs in about half of all cases. In other cases, ARF is often caused by disseminated intravascular coagulation.[76]


Philippine cobra[edit]

Philippine cobra (naga philippinensis)

The Philippine cobra (Naga philippinensis) is one of the most venomous cobra species in the world based on murine LD50 studies. The average subcutaneous LD50 for this species is 0.20 mg/kg.[15] The lowest LD50 reported value for this snake is 0.14 mg/kg SC, while the highest is 0.48 mg/kg SC.[115] and the average venom yield per bite is 90–100 mg.[15] The venom of the Philippine cobra is a potent postsynaptic neurotoxin which affects respiratory function and can cause neurotoxicity and respiratory paralysis, as the neurotoxins interrupt the transmission of nerve signals by binding to the neuromuscular junctions near the muscles. Research has shown its venom is purely a neurotoxin, with no apparent necrotizing components and no cardiotoxins. These snakes are capable of accurately spitting their venom at a target up to 3 metres (9.8 ft) away. Bites from this species produce prominent neurotoxicity and are considered especially dangerous. A study of 39 patients envenomed by the Philippine cobra was conducted in 1988. Neurotoxicity occurred in 38 cases and was the predominant clinical feature. Complete Respiratory failure developed in 19 patients, and was often rapid in onset; in three cases, apnea occurred within just 30 minutes of the bite. There were two deaths, both in patients who were moribund upon arrival at the hospital. Three patients developed necrosis, and 14 individuals with systemic symptoms had no local swelling at all. Both cardiotoxicity and reliable nonspecific signs of envenoming were absent. Bites by the Philippine cobra produce a distinctive clinical picture characterized by severe neurotoxicity of rapid onset and minimal local tissue damage.[116]





Playing childish tricks of newcomers on survey crews is not new.   But this  joke on Maxie backfired  badly.  He had every reason to 
be fearful as deaths from snakebite in Sri Lanka is the highest in the world.  We did knot know that.  All we knew was that Maxie
had never been in the wild lands of Canada.  Wile lands?  The Beverly Swamp is huge…2400 hectares …but it is also part
of the City of Hamilton.  Hardly a wild land.


DO YOU WANT ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF INSENSITIVITY?  

THE WORST JOKE I EVER WITNESSED IN THE BUSH:  CRUEL

 The worst trick  ever played on one of my crews was
played on Dick Wilson.  Dick was a  mild mannered  young man who had a terrible stutter.   He could  never complete
a  ssssetntence  wwwwwithout ssssstuttering.  We were working in Northern Quebec near Chibougamau back in 1956
when one rather insensitive practical jokers on our crew  devised a wonderful (?) practical joke using a long sharpened sampling.
One dark night he waited at the base of our latrine which was located on a rock outcrop.   When Dick Wilson dropped his pants
and sat on the latrine seat (a length of poplar lashed to two trees)…the joker shoved the sharpened stick up and scratched
Dick Wilson on the ass   Dick ran down the outcrop to our tents where he tried to say:

“BBBBear ccccclawed mime noon the aaasss.”    

I did not think that was a very funny joke at the time.   To others it was hilarious.   Poor Dick Wilson was a target for many
so called  jokes.  I was  the youngest person on that crew and got my share of jokes.  Jokes  at my expense.  But Dick
Wilson was the most vulnerable because he stuttered.  Do wild  animals pick on the  weakest in the litter?  Male bears 
will kill cubs if they can get them.  Maybe the weak are always targets from the strong.  Wilson worried  about going
bald.  

“I think I am growing bbbbald.”  he stuttered on one occasions.
“If you cut all your hair and  shave your head, then a full head of hair will grow back.”  suggested
one of the crew.
“Really?  Help me cut is  all  off.”

Dicks’s hair did  not grow back.

SOME will find this behaviour infantile, insensitive and classic examples  of bullying.  Probably true.   Pretend  you did
not read these  silly examples.

ALAN SKEOCH
FEB. 2019


Fwd: SUMMER 1965: LAST JOB IN THE WILDERNESS


NOTE:  Please forgive my intrusion…This is (nearly) the last of my Ten  Years  in the Wilderness theme….I know they seem self centred…maybe even

self obsessed.   I have wanted to record these experiences  for more than 50 years because my job back then got me into some strange places with strange people and

presented lots of excitement.  You do not need to read if you find the subject intrusive or you think I am a fool.  Yes, there are typos…my computer keeps  changing words
for some reason…I think there is  a little person sitting inside the computer deliberately trying to infuriate me…I will give him a quarter stick  of forcite sometime in the
future.  Forcite?  What is Forcite?  Read  on.

alan


1965:  My Last Summer in the Wilderness:   Merritt Open Pit Mine, Merritt, BC

alan skeoch
Feb. 2019


As the Summer of 1964 ended,  I thought my careers as a Field  Man in the Miing Industry
also  ended.  Was I waving a fond good-bye.  Not a chance.  Along came the Summer of 1965.
Marjorie was misinterpreted as you will notice.


“Hello, Alan, is that you?”
“Yep.”
“Norm Paterson here…need a man for a seismic job in BC…two weeks, maybe three.”
“Wait until I check with Marjorie.”
“Short job, Alan.”
“All clear, what’s up”
“Big molybdenum mine near Merritt B.C…worried about overburden slippage…need seismic
info urgently.”
“Using the  portable FS2 unit.”
“Yes, with some modifications…”
“Modificatons?”
“Nothing big time…you can handle it I’M sure.   Can you take the job?”
“When?”
“Fly out to Vancouver tomorrow then short hop to BC interior.”
“Sounds great, count me int.”

That call came from out of the blue about August 10, 1965.  This  was our summer vacation as public 
school teachers.  Hardly a  vacation for us since somehow I got Trench  Mouth in early July.  Trench Mouth?
Not many people have even heard  of trench mouth.  Lucky for that.  It is a super painful mouth infection 
Mouth…a series of ulcers in mouth and throat…super painful.  Cause?  Gums got infected with Trench ]
Mouth bacteria from some source.  Rare disease  dates back to soldiers in the  trenches of World  War I.
Knocked me out for month of July so the Seismic call from Dr. Paterson was a welcome return to normal life.

But I had a few questions…reservations.  What is molybdenum?   What are these ‘modifications’ to the 
FS 2 portable seismic unit?   Where is Merritt?  How big is the open pit mine?  And finally a questions
best not put to Dr. Paterson”  “Can Marjorie come along on the job?”  Of course, the final question was
the really big question.  And  it was already answered.

“Marjorie, pack a  couple of bags for two weeks…light, one bag each.”
“Where are we going?”
“Wish  I knew…place called  Merritt.”
“Another bush job?”
“Nope, sounds like a  job at a mine site.”
“Where will we live?”
“Not sure…I will fly in first and then you follow a couple of days  later.”
“Why?”
“Because the mine manager expects an expert…this  job is serious business…if the open pit is on verge of collapse…
they do not expect a husband and wife team on some kind of junket.”
“Where am I to stay then?”
“Stay in Vancouver for a day or two in some cheap hotel and then take a bus to Merritt…by then the job should be well
underway.”
“How do I get there?”
“By bus…should be  a nice ride.”
“I’ll book you into a an East  Vancouver hotel,…”

MOLEBDENUM

“What is molydenom?”
“It’s a mineral often found assoiated with copper.”
Never heard  of it.”
“Not many people  have…important mineral though…alloyed with steel makes steel harder.”
“Who needs harder steel?”
“Military.  One inch thick steel plating of steel and molybdenum is as good as 3 inch think ,metal.   Make
tanks ligher…makes ships lighter…”




THE NATURE OF THE JOB:  COMINCO OPEN PIT MINE PROBLEM

One wall on The Cominco Open Pit Mine was unstable and seemed about to collapse which would table  hundreds of tons
of soil and rock into the open pit mine.  Like a  mountain landslide.   Geologists and mining engineers became aware of the danger when slight rock falls began
to happen.   Could the whole massive open  pit mine be  compromised?   Maybe.  Maybe not.  There was  a chance that deep
underground the rock was  quite stable.  Maybe there might even be some kind of intrusion underground that would inhibit any
further  movement.   

It was worth finding out.  If stable then the profits would  be secure.  If not then drastic action would have to be taken.  Action that
might even bring about the closure of this partciular open pit operation.

“You can do it, Alan,” said Dr. Paterson which was comforting.  I was not so sure as I had graduated from U. of T in history and  philosophy.
Philosophy gives a person confidence.  History made me aware of  my ignorance.  One cancelled out the other.

No matter, we were committed and picked up the portable ‘modified’ seismograph.  Marjorie and I flew to Vancouver the next day.  She was  booked into a modest hotel in Vancouver while
I caught a plane to Kamloops and rented a snazzy red convertible for the trip down to Merritt.  Then Rented a room in the local motel which was very close to the mine itself.
On arrival I  met a company geologist and the mine manager
and we sleuthed out the site.  Explosives and blasting caps were purchased and  we got down to business.  Plan was to start the job the following morning.
That sounds  very business like.  Very efficient.  

Unfortunately events did not go that smoothly.  Let’s start with the car rental.  Nice red American  made convertible.  Luxury car was only car available so I motored joyfully
south through the desert landscape of sagebrush and Ponderosa pines.   Pulled the car up near the mine admin building…sort of a wooden temporary structure.  Lots
of huge earth movers were busy stripping off the overburden then loading up with the blasted fragments of copper bearing ore…very low grade…with molybdenum  and tiny traces  of
silver and gold.  Needed huge load of ore to get small amounts  of copper or molybdenum.  Gold  and silver even less so.

Earth movers have a blade about midway down the body. The blade is a mouth…once dropped it scoops up loose soil and rock…then the mouth is lifted and
the pile of soil and rock is hauled to a dump site.   These machines  are often driven by devil may care cowboy kinds of people. Shake the shit out of  drivers.  Certainly true in this case.  As  soon
as I parked the car a cowboy tried to see how close he could come to the car.  He got very close…too close.  Sheared off the passenger side and back bumper.  Had to 
rent another car, less luxurious.  Funny thing was  that neither the mining people nor the rental agency got their underwear in a twist.

Later I heard  that heavy alcohol consumption in the area led  to many car  accidents.  




Imagine this rental car with the side sheared away.








An earth mover, called a tractor scraper,  identical to this one took a  swipe at my rental car…ripped the passenger side and tore off the back bumper.
Driven by a young man about my age or younger…maybe even only18 or so.  I have no idea why he did it.  Never met him
and he did not stop just kept hauling his load to the dumpsite.


The Cominco (later Highland Creek) Open Pit copper and molybdenum mine in 1965




Current picture, circa 2018, of the Highland  Creek open pit mine near Merritt, BC.   When I worked there back in 1965, the pit
was not nearly tis deep.   The place where we did the survey may have been somewhere near the central road way
but up on the former surface.  Then again it could have been a nearby open pit that was subsequently abandoned.



SO YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE FS2 PORTABLE SEISMOGRAPH?

I learned the business from the bottom up.  My first job in New Brunswick was the ‘hammer man’ job.  Dr. Paterson gave me
a heavy sledge hammer and  small steel plate.   

“Hit that plate as  hard  as you  can wherever and  whenever you are told to do  so.”
“Must I know how to run a seismograph?”
“You do not need  to know a damn thing…just follow orders.”
“Bottom of the learning ladder kind  of job, right Dr. Paterson?”
“Right…if you are lucky, you come back as a field man for the company…capable
of running a seismic survey.  If you foul up, well, you can figure what that means…”
“Who is  my boss?”
“Dr. Abul Mousuf, a professional geophysicist…nice guy.”

Description:  Sledge hammer pounded  on a steel  plate sent sound waves to 
the portable seismograph at clearly defined spatial intervals.  Some distance
from the Seismograph it was necessary use explosives.   Sound waves  travel at
different speeds in different material…i..e. air, overburden soil, bed rock.





So My first job we used an MD-1 portable seismograph.  All I  had to do was  hammer a steel plate with heavy steel headed sledge hammer.  Abul Mousuf  was  my boss on that job.
Just the two of us were sent to New Brunswick  to confirm the future lakebed of the St. John River Valley was  going to hold the huge amount
of water from the Macktaquack (sp?) dam.  




 Abul was the first moslem I ever met.  Very patient
and generous  guy.  He ran the portable seismograph while I provided the sound wave vibrations which were picked up by the machine in milliseconds..tiny
fractions of a  second.  I pounded the steel plate at measured intervals…usually around 50 foot intervals.   The more  distant I got from Abul the
harder I had to hammer that steel plate.  When hammering was no longer readable, we started to use force… explosives…Explosives!

“Alan, cut the Forcite sticks into quarters and  halves.”
“How?”
“Slowly with a knife…the sticks are quite stable…
“Stable?”
“plastic C4…needs big shock to detonate…That’s where  the caps come in.”
“Caps?”
“These little metal tubes with wires…electric  firing caps.”
“How are they charged?”
“Slide the metal tube slowly into the Forcite…quite safe.”
“And the wires?”
“Attach to this cable that goes back to the firing switch…
“Any danger of error?”
“Always  a  danger if more than two people get involved…safe is we work together.
You set  the charge…bury it so some of the force will go down… then get back  out of the way…Signal me…wave your arm…yell, ‘All clear’
and I’ll detonate the charge.  usually only need quarter sticks.

We worked out a routine…once the charge was buried and wires connected I signalled Abul, then moved out
of the way, and he pushed  the firing button.  Wham!  A small geyser of dirt snd  debris flew into the air.  And beneath the ground a  sound wave raced
to the seismograph.  Sound  waves move faster in  hard surfaces so it is possible to ‘read’ what is  beneath the ground…and do  a profile of the depth to bedrock.
That is  a very simple explanation.  Forgive any errors.  Remember I was just the hammer and explosives  guy.  The kid on the
job.

We hired  this man to help with the explosives.  I have forgotten his  name.  If someone
saw him walking through town today with this handful of Forcite sticks made ready
to detonate they would call in a Swat team or run for their life.  In the early 1960’s not
many people  were concerned unless we were crossing their land.

This is how the St. John River Valley above Fredericton appeared to me in that summer of 1961.  Like  a picture postcard.
Stunning in its beauty.  We were agents of change.  


The whole valley from Fredericton to Grand Falls was destined to become a huge lake held in place by the Mactsquak Dam.






King’s Landing.   Many of the historic buildings in the Valley were  moved to King;s Landing which remains a mecca  for tourists.







That job was done a few years earlier around 1961.   Actually the job was depressing because the St. John River Valley was absolutely 
beautiful.   To imagine it being flooded made me sad.  But progress is  progress.   Loyalist  farms had been expropriated. Their antique 
treasures were so vast that a huge historic village called King’s Landing was being constructed while we were assessing the future lake bottom.   Some of these farms were 
still in operation others had  been demolished.  One farm I remember particularly.  We had rented cabins at a doomed resort near Pokiok Falls, also doomed.  The weather 
was turning cool, early September, and each of us had a small wood burning stove beside our beds.  In my mindI can  still smell  that wood fire.
The barns on that farm were filled  with ancient farm machines like  a wooden tread mill for a horse to deliver power to a florally decorated  flat to the floor threshing machine.
At the time I  wished I could rescue some of these implements.  I hoped they would end  up at King’s Landing for future tourists.

Pokiok Falls was also doomed.  The water spilled down a long split in the bedrock which made the waterfalls  almost inaccessible.   Now it is all covered in water and
the village of Pokiok Falls is a memory at best but more likely totally forgotten.

I got to know Abul really well.  We liked each other.  Part way through the job his wife joined us.  She was  a French Canadian girl from Bathurst, 
New Brunswick.  Really nice person   At one point Abul said, “Why don’t you two go down to the Fredericton Fair tonight while I do
the calculations.  We did that.  Even rode a Ferris Wheel as I remember.”  On another night we visited the Beaverbrook Art Gallery.
  Why tell you this?  Because Islamophobia has become such
a big negative factor in Canada today.   Images of Moslem restrictions on women are rampant.  That was certainly not the case with
Abul.  He trusted me with his  wife.  She was about my age. Back in Toronto, in late fall, Abul and his wife joined our Presbyterian Young Peoples Group and explained some
of his Islamic  beliefs.  This was not done with the intention of conversion.
He  was  about as laid back  a man as  possible.

Why tell you all this.?  Because Abul taught me how to use the portable seismograph.  And my image of Moslems was permanently affected by
his gentle behaviour, his humour, his trusting nature, and his love of life.  The next summer I asked Dr. Paterson…

“How is  Abul?”
“He died.”
“Died,  no he  was young.”
“He caught pneumonia on a job in Northenr Quebec las winter….died.”
“What a nice man he was.”
“Yes,  we all  miss  him.  I spoke to him just before he died and he
said…’Don’t feel  badly, it my time to go.  I am at ease.’

There were several end results of working with Abul .   First, I met a man I have admired all my life.  Second, I came to understand Islam in a manner that was  positive rather than fear laden.  And third, I
learned how to operate a portable seismograph which increased my value to Hunting Technical and Exploration Services.   Oh, yes, there was a fourth result…I got a couple of glycerine headaches from
handling the Forcite sticks.  They beaded droplets of glycerine.


So, when Norm…sorry, I meant to say Dr. Paterson…phoned me in late July 1965, I was  overjoyed to have the job.

The greeting by the professional staff at the mine site was a little disconcerting though.  They had  set up a demonstration test just to be sure the company, my company, knew what we we’re doing.
At least that’s the way I interpreted them gathering around the FS2 on the first working day.   They assigned a hammer man to work with me, a man who was a little familiar with frociete explosives.
Really just a kid a few years younger than me.  We walked along the edge of the huge open pit mine.  Walked carefully.  But not carefully enough for the hammer/explosives man.  He slipped over
the edge carrying the box fo Forcite sticks.  Fell down about ten feet or so, regained his footing and popped up again.  Forcite does not explode when dropped.  A most stable explosive…can be needed
and wrapped  around a bank vault as they show in the movies.  So there was no real danger although the boy who fell had misgivings. 

Let me set the stags for the next critical incident:

We are standing on the questionable edge of the open pit Molybdenum mine.  Great circular road  weaves its way down to the pay dirt at the bottom.  Huge Euclid mine trucks are going and coming
while equally large excavators are at work far below.   The officials from the mine are interested in seeing the Seismograh at work.  They are professional people…a geologist and the mine manager
are among the 5 or 6 people present.  

I set up the console and mark off the intervals for a) the hammered plate and then, once hammering cannot be done b) the intervals for the electrically fired quarter snd half stick of Forcite.  The hammer man
has been instructed how to slowly side the electric firing caps into the Frociete then use the lead wires to make the explosive secure.

I am nervous.   What if nothing happens?  What did Dr. Paterson mean when he said certain adjustments had been made to the FS2.  Let me describe what happened next in dialogue form.

“OK, we’re all set up,  FS is on.”
“Hammer the steel plate…NOW.”
“That’s odd, no reading…no milliseconds indicted…Do it again!”
(Nothing happened…I had my heart in my mouth…was there something I did not know…was it my fault?
Keep calm, Alan…be confident.”
“Sorry, must be a defective board…may have shaken something loose en route.”
 Dr. Paterson had given me two or three spare “boards” filled with complicated soldered resistors and what not.)
“Just do a replacement…slide this board out and put a new one in…happens all the time.”
“OK, now take a good song with the hammer:
“Bingo…working fine…measures time vibration gets to the seismograph in milliseconds…
te more distant the hammer or the explosives get from the seismograph the closer we get to finding 
what is underground.  What you want is a stable rock base…or a rock knob to prevent any more slippage.
That will take s lot of readings…(no need for an audience is what I really meant)”
“My credibility had been established…by pure luck…well, more than luck, let’s say guts…Dad always
called me a ‘gutsy bugger’

GUESS WHO ARRIVED THAT FIRST DAY ON THE JOB?

Once the board was replaced all went well.   Firing box for  Explosives worked perfectly. All I had to do was push the button and  then
write down the milliseconds it took  for the sound wave to reach the seismograph.  Simply add  up the little twinkling lights.  At least that
is what I remember.  Things became routine.

My next shock was when I returned to the motel.
Marjorie was unpacking her suitcase in our room.  




“Marjorie, I thought you were going to wait a couple of days?”
“Not in that Vancouver hotel.  I  was sacred so I caught the night 
bus to Merritt…arrived this morning.”
“Scared?”
“Strange men…noise…drunks…did not want to stay around.”
“Glad to see you…perfectly safe here…”

A little later, the mine geologist showed up to make me feel welcome.  Me?
He was surprised to find an  attractive young woman in my room with me.
Wore a kind of lopsided grin when I introduced Marjorie to him.

The next day I got the scuttlebutt from our hammer man that the execs thought I had
brought a hooker in from Vancouver.  They were certain of that.  No matter how many
times  I introduced  Marjorie as my wife, they figured I was leading them on.

“Marjorie, these guys think you are a hooker…can’t dissuade them…”
“So, let’s leave it at that then Alan.”

Pictures: Marjorie…I know these were taken a few years after the BC venture…but they seem to fit.

As the days wore on, I think they came to realize Marjorie was my wife but we were 
never sure that fact was believed.  There is  an old story about mining that I picked
up when working on the Elliot Lake uranium job.  Our liaison man on that job said
“The best way to tell if a mine is going to be operational is the arrival of the hookers.”
Maybe Marjorie was a good luck omen.

WHAT WAS THE RESULT OF THE SURVEY?

I was only the field man.  The interpretation of my results was done by professional geophysicists like Dr. Paterson back in Toronto. 
The execs from Cominco would have liked me to tell them if the unstable north wall of the open pit was on the verge of collapse
or whether it would  stabilize due to a  tilt in the bedrock.  I never did know the results.  That was true of all the jobs except for
the Southern Irish job where Dr. Stam and geologist John Hogan were on site for the duration of the job.  

When we finished our seismic readings and the results were sent back to Toronto, the job was over.  

So here we were in Central British Columbia with s  few days before school started back in Toronto.   What should  we do?
Fly home right away?   I never liked doing that on any job.   Seemed  an absolute waste because most of the places we surveyed
were distant from Toronto. Some were fascinating places like Anchorage, Alaska…Keno City, Yukon Territory…Bunmahon, County 
Waterford, Slouther Ireland.   It would be stupid to rush home.  And it would be costly since two airfares were involved only one of
which was covered by the company.










“Marjorie, why don’t we catch the CPR Canadian…the transcontinental railway?”
“Can we do that?”
“On our own time…company job is over.”
“Expensive?”
“We can cover most of it with my return fare…maybe even cheaper.”
“How?”
“Let’s just reserve one sleeper bed…a lower?”
“Is there room for two?”
“Who cares?”

CPR The Canadian sleeping                car section

So we did.  We came back to Toronto on board the ‘Canadian’…meals in the dining car, vistas enjoyed from
the dome car and both of us folded into the lower bunk sleeper.   A little tight but No problem.  Job over.

AND  SO  ENDED MY CREER AS A FIELD EXPLORATION MAN IN THE MINING INDUSTRY.
EACH DAY SEEMED TO HAVE A NEW ADVENTURE.  SO GLAD YOU HAVE TAKEN
THE TIME TO READ THESE NOTES.

ALAN SKEOCH
FEB. 8, 2019

P.S. There will be some short notes coming…such  as the GOOD FOOD note below


THE GOOD LIFE : GOURMET COOK 

    (And a game for you to test your vision)


Envy?  I can understand why many readers are envious when the descriptions of life in the
wilderness are sent.   I have noted that some recipients only look at the pictures
and ignore the rich prose that I take a long time to string together.  So here is a very
short descriptive essay that is really a game.  See if you can find each of the items
listed below.  The picture underscores just how wonderful life in the bush can be.

photo  Taken: Yukon job 1962 



See if you can find the following from list under the photo




1) Spruce pole bed
2) Gold Pan
3) Bird’s Custard can
4) Bird’s Cutard with stale bread and Klim milk powder
5) wash basen/ dining bowl  (double duty)
6) Candles  (indication this camp has been used for week)
7) Instant coffee cans
8) long underwear
9) fancy boots
10) Mattress
11) Alarm Clock, wind  up kind
12) tarpaulin floor
13) discarded  matches
14) Two spoons (evidence of communal dining)
15) Clothing storage area
16) Mystery: A boot lace? string? heavy duty tooth floss?

    17) One reader noticed the person in the photo is left handed…as I am.

          But I did not own such a fancy pair of long underwear.  We shared
          the meal, however, both left handed cooks.
   18) Another reader commented  on his clean feet and wondered
         whether he had  washed his feet in the wash basin before making
         the skim milk, custard  and stale bread gourmet dinner.  It is  just
        possible he did do that which would add some fine particles to the meal.

alan skeoch
Feb. 8,2019
(picture was taken on the Yukon job in 1961 or 1962)




SUMMER 1965: LAST JOB IN THE WILDERNESS


1965:  My Last Summer in the Wilderness:   Merritt Open Pit Mine, Merritt, BC

alan skeoch
Feb. 2019


As the Summer of 1964 ended,  I thought my career as a Field  Man in the Miining Industry
also  ended.  Was I waving a fond good-bye?  Not a chance.  Along came the Summer of 1965.
Marjorie now had a role which  was misinterpreted as you will notice.


“Hello, Alan, is that you?”
“Yep.”
“Norm Paterson here…need a man for a seismic job in BC…two weeks, maybe three.”
“Wait until I check with Marjorie.”
“Short job, Alan.”
“All clear, what’s up”
“Big molybdenum mine near Merritt B.C…worried about overburden slippage…need seismic
info urgently.”
“Using the  portable FS2 unit.”
“Yes, with some modifications…”
“Modificatons?”
“Nothing big time…you can handle it I’M sure.   Can you take the job?”
“When?”
“Fly out to Vancouver tomorrow then short hop to BC interior.”
“Sounds great, count me int.”

That call came from out of the blue about August 10, 1965.  This  was our summer vacation as public 
school teachers.  Hardly a  vacation for us since somehow I got Trench  Mouth in early July.  Trench Mouth?
Not many people have even heard  of trench mouth.  Lucky for that.  It is a super painful mouth infection 
Mouth…a series of ulcers in mouth and throat…super painful.  Cause?  Gums got infected with Trench ]
Mouth bacteria from some source.  Rare disease  dates back to soldiers in the  trenches of World  War I.
Knocked me out for month of July so the Seismic call from Dr. Paterson was a welcome return to normal life.

But I had a few questions…reservations.  What is molybdenum?   What are these ‘modifications’ to the 
FS 2 portable seismic unit?   Where is Merritt?  How big is the open pit mine?  And finally a questions
best not put to Dr. Paterson”  “Can Marjorie come along on the job?”  Of course, the final question was
the really big question.  And  it was already answered.

“Marjorie, pack a  couple of bags for two weeks…light, one bag each.”
“Where are we going?”
“Wish  I knew…place called  Merritt.”
“Another bush job?”
“Nope, sounds like a  job at a mine site.”
“Where will we live?”
“Not sure…I will fly in first and then you follow a couple of days  later.”
“Why?”
“Because the mine manager expects an expert…this  job is serious business…if the open pit is on verge of collapse…
they do not expect a husband and wife team on some kind of junket.”
“Where am I to stay then?”
“Stay in Vancouver for a day or two in some cheap hotel and then take a bus to Merritt…by then the job should be well
underway.”
“How do I get there?”
“By bus…should be  a nice ride.”
“I’ll book you into a an East  Vancouver hotel,…”

MOLEBDENUM

“What is molydenom?”
“It’s a mineral often found assoiated with copper.”
Never heard  of it.”
“Not many people  have…important mineral though…alloyed with steel makes steel harder.”
“Who needs harder steel?”
“Military.  One inch thick steel plating of steel and molybdenum is as good as 3 inch think ,metal.   Make
tanks ligher…makes ships lighter…”




THE NATURE OF THE JOB:  COMINCO OPEN PIT MINE PROBLEM

One wall on The Cominco Open Pit Mine was unstable and seemed about to collapse which would tumble  hundreds of tons
of soil and rock into the open pit mine.  Like a  mountain landslide.   Geologists and mining engineers became aware of the danger when slight rock falls began
to happen.   Could the whole massive open  pit mine be  compromised?   Maybe.  Maybe not.  There was  a chance that deep
underground the rock was  quite stable.  Maybe there might even be some kind of intrusion underground that would inhibit any
further  movement.   

It was worth finding out.  If stable then the profits would  be secure.  If not then drastic action would have to be taken.  Action that
might even bring about the closure of this partciular open pit operation.

“You can do it, Alan,” said Dr. Paterson which was comforting.  I was not so sure as I had graduated from U. of T in history and  philosophy.
Philosophy gives a person confidence.  History made me aware of  my ignorance.  One cancelled out the other.

No matter, we were committed and picked up the portable ‘modified’ seismograph.  Marjorie and I flew to Vancouver the next day.  She was  booked into a modest hotel in Vancouver while
I caught a plane to Kamloops and rented a snazzy red convertible for the trip down to Merritt.  Then Rented a room in the local motel which was very close to the mine itself.
On arrival I  met a company geologist and the mine manager
and we sleuthed out the site.  Explosives and blasting caps were purchased and  we got down to business.  Plan was to start the job the following morning.
That sounds  very business like.  Very efficient.  

Unfortunately events did not go that smoothly.  Let’s start with the car rental.  Nice red American  made convertible.  Luxury car was only car available so I motored joyfully
south through the desert landscape of sagebrush and Ponderosa pines.   Pulled the car up near the mine admin building…sort of a wooden temporary structure.  Lots
of huge earth movers were busy stripping off the overburden then loading up with the blasted fragments of copper bearing ore…very low grade…with molybdenum  and tiny traces  of
silver and gold.  Needed huge load of ore to get small amounts  of copper or molybdenum.  Gold  and silver even less so.

Earth movers have a blade about midway down the body. The blade is a mouth…once dropped it scoops up loose soil and rock…then the mouth is lifted and
the pile of soil and rock is hauled to a dump site.   These machines  are often driven by devil may care cowboy kinds of people. Shake the shit out of  drivers.  Certainly true in this case.  As  soon
as I parked the car a cowboy tried to see how close he could come to the car.  He got very close…too close.  Sheared off the passenger side and back bumper.  Had to 
rent another car, less luxurious.  Funny thing was  that neither the mining people nor the rental agency got their underwear in a twist.

Later I heard  that heavy alcohol consumption in the area led  to many car  accidents.  




Imagine this rental car with the side sheared away.

An earth mover, called a tractor scraper,  identical to this one took a  swipe at my rental car…ripped the passenger side and tore off the back bumper.
Driven by a young man about my age or younger…maybe even only18 or so.  I have no idea why he did it.  Never met him
and he did not stop just kept hauling his load to the dumpsite.


The Cominco (later Highland Creek) Open Pit copper and molybdenum mine in 1965




Current picture, circa 2018, of the Highland  Creek open pit mine near Merritt, BC.   When I worked there back in 1965, the pit
was not nearly tis deep.   The place where we did the survey may have been somewhere near the central road way
but up on the former surface.  Then again it could have been a nearby open pit that was subsequently abandoned.



SO YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE FS2 PORTABLE SEISMOGRAPH?

I learned the business from the bottom up.  My first job in New Brunswick was the ‘hammer man’ job.  Dr. Paterson gave me
a heavy sledge hammer and  small steel plate.   

“Hit that plate as  hard  as you  can wherever and  whenever you are told to do  so.”
“Must I know how to run a seismograph?”
“You do not need  to know a damn thing…just follow orders.”
“Bottom of the learning ladder kind  of job, right Dr. Paterson?”
“Right…if you are lucky, you come back as a field man for the company…capable
of running a seismic survey.  If you foul up, well, you can figure what that means…”
“Who is  my boss?”
“Dr. Abul Mousuf, a professional geophysicist…nice guy.”

Description:  Sledge hammer pounded  on a steel  plate sent sound waves to 
the portable seismograph at clearly defined spatial intervals.  Some distance
from the Seismograph it was necessary use explosives.   Sound waves  travel at
different speeds in different material…i..e. air, overburden soil, bed rock.





So My first job we used an MD-1 portable seismograph.  All I  had to do was  hammer a steel plate with heavy steel headed sledge hammer.  Abul Mousuf  was  my boss on that job.
Just the two of us were sent to New Brunswick  to confirm the future lakebed of the St. John River Valley was  going to hold the huge amount
of water from the Macktaquack (sp?) dam.  




 Abul was the first moslem I ever met.  Very patient
and generous  guy.  He ran the portable seismograph while I provided the sound wave vibrations which were picked up by the machine in milliseconds..tiny
fractions of a  second.  I pounded the steel plate at measured intervals…usually around 50 foot intervals.   The more  distant I got from Abul the
harder I had to hammer that steel plate.  When hammering was no longer readable, we started to use force… explosives…Explosives!

“Alan, cut the Forcite sticks into quarters and  halves.”
“How?”
“Slowly with a knife…the sticks are quite stable…
“Stable?”
“plastic C4…needs big shock to detonate…That’s where  the caps come in.”
“Caps?”
“These little metal tubes with wires…electric  firing caps.”
“How are they charged?”
“Slide the metal tube slowly into the Forcite…quite safe.”
“And the wires?”
“Attach to this cable that goes back to the firing switch…
“Any danger of error?”
“Always  a  danger if more than two people get involved…safe is we work together.
You set  the charge…bury it so some of the force will go down… then get back  out of the way…Signal me…wave your arm…yell, ‘All clear’
and I’ll detonate the charge.  usually only need quarter sticks.

We worked out a routine…once the charge was buried and wires connected I signalled Abul, then moved out
of the way, and he pushed  the firing button.  Wham!  A small geyser of dirt snd  debris flew into the air.  And beneath the ground a  sound wave raced
to the seismograph.  Sound  waves move faster in  hard surfaces so it is possible to ‘read’ what is  beneath the ground…and do  a profile of the depth to bedrock.
That is  a very simple explanation.  Forgive any errors.  Remember I was just the hammer and explosives  guy.  The kid on the
job.

We hired  a man to help with the explosives.  I have forgotten his  name.  If someone
saw him walking through town today with this handful of Forcite sticks made ready
to detonate they would call in a Swat team or run for their life.  In the early 1960’s not
many people  were concerned unless we were crossing their land.

This is how the St. John River Valley above Fredericton appeared to me in that summer of 1961.  Like  a picture postcard.
Stunning in its beauty.  We were agents of change.  


The whole valley from Fredericton to Grand Falls was destined to become a huge lake held in place by the Mactsquak Dam.






King’s Landing.   Many of the historic buildings in the Valley were  moved to King;s Landing which remains a mecca  for tourists.




That job was done a few years earlier around 1961.   Actually the job was depressing because the St. John River Valley was absolutely 
beautiful.   To imagine it being flooded made me sad.  But progress is  progress.   Loyalist  farms had been expropriated. Their antique 
treasures were so vast that a huge historic village called King’s Landing was being constructed while we were assessing the future lake bottom.   Some of these farms were 
still in operation others had  been demolished.  One farm I remember particularly.  We had rented cabins at a doomed resort near Pokiok Falls, also doomed.  The weather 
was turning cool, early September, and each of us had a small wood burning stove beside our beds.  In my mindI can  still smell  that wood fire.
The barns on that farm were filled  with ancient farm machines like  a wooden tread mill for a horse to deliver power to a florally decorated  flat to the floor threshing machine.
At the time I  wished I could rescue some of these implements.  I hoped they would end  up at King’s Landing for future tourists.




Pokiok Falls was also doomed.  The water spilled down a long split in the bedrock which made the waterfalls  almost inaccessible.   Now it is all covered in water and
the village of Pokiok Falls is a memory at best but more likely totally forgotten.

I got to know Abul really well.  We liked each other.  Part way through the job his wife joined us.  She was  a French Canadian girl from Bathurst, 
New Brunswick.  Really nice person   At one point Abul said, “Why don’t you two go down to the Fredericton Fair tonight while I do
the calculations.  We did that.  Even rode a Ferris Wheel as I remember.”  On another night we visited the Beaverbrook Art Gallery.
  Why tell you this?  Because Islamophobia has become such
a big negative factor in Canada today.   Images of Moslem restrictions on women are rampant.  That was certainly not the case with
Abul.  He trusted me with his  wife.  She was about my age. Back in Toronto, in late fall, Abul and his wife joined our Presbyterian Young Peoples Group and explained some
of his Islamic  beliefs.  This was not done with the intention of conversion.
He  was  about as laid back  a man as  possible.

Why tell you all this.?  Because Abul taught me how to use the portable seismograph.  And my image of Moslems was permanently affected by
his gentle behaviour, his humour, his trusting nature, and his love of life.  The next summer I asked Dr. Paterson…

“How is  Abul?”
“He died.”
“Died,  no he  was young.”
“He caught pneumonia on a job in Northenr Quebec las winter….died.”
“What a nice man he was.”
“Yes,  we all  miss  him.  I spoke to him just before he died and he
said…’Don’t feel  badly, it my time to go.  I am at ease.’

There were several end results of working with Abul .   First, I met a man I have admired all my life.  Second, I came to understand Islam in a manner that was  positive rather than fear laden.  And third, I
learned how to operate a portable seismograph which increased my value to Hunting Technical and Exploration Services.   Oh, yes, there was a fourth result…I got a couple of glycerine headaches from
handling the Forcite sticks.  They beaded droplets of glycerine.


So, when Norm…sorry, I meant to say Dr. Paterson…phoned me in late July 1965, I was  overjoyed to have the job.

The greeting by the professional staff at the mine site was a little disconcerting though.  They had  set up a demonstration test just to be sure the company, my company, knew what we we’re doing.
At least that’s the way I interpreted them gathering around the FS2 on the first working day.   They assigned a hammer man to work with me, a man who was a little familiar with frociete explosives.
Really just a kid a few years younger than me.  We walked along the edge of the huge open pit mine.  Walked carefully.  But not carefully enough for the hammer/explosives man.  He slipped over
the edge carrying the box fo Forcite sticks.  Fell down about ten feet or so, regained his footing and popped up again.  Forcite does not explode when dropped.  A most stable explosive…can be needed
and wrapped  around a bank vault as they show in the movies.  So there was no real danger although the boy who fell had misgivings. 

Let me set the stags for the next critical incident:

We are standing on the edge of the open pit Molybdenum mine.  A Great circular road  weaves its way down to the pay dirt at the bottom.  Huge Euclid mine trucks are going and coming
while equally large excavators are at work far below.   The officials from the mine are interested in seeing the Seismograh at work.  They are professional people…a geologist and the mine manager
are among the 5 or 6 people present.  

I set up the console and mark off the intervals for a) the hammered plate and then, once hammering cannot be done b) the intervals for the electrically fired quarter snd half stick of Forcite.  The hammer man
has been instructed how to slowly side the electric firing caps into the Frociete then use the lead wires to make the explosive secure.

I am nervous.   What if nothing happens?  What did Dr. Paterson mean when he said certain adjustments had been made to the FS2.  Let me describe what happened next in dialogue form.

“OK, we’re all set up,  FS is on.”
“Hammer the steel plate…NOW.”
“That’s odd, no reading…no milliseconds indicted…Do it again!”
(Nothing happened…I had my heart in my mouth…was there something I did not know…was it my fault?
Keep calm, Alan…be confident.”
“Sorry, must be a defective board…may have shaken something loose en route.”
 Dr. Paterson had given me two or three spare “boards” filled with complicated soldered resistors and what not.)
“Just do a replacement…slide this board out and put a new one in…happens all the time.”
“OK, now take a good song with the hammer:
“Bingo…working fine…measures time vibration gets to the seismograph in milliseconds…
te more distant the hammer or the explosives get from the seismograph the closer we get to finding 
what is underground.  What you want is a stable rock base…or a rock knob to prevent any more slippage.
That will take s lot of readings…(no need for an audience is what I really meant)”
“My credibility had been established…by pure luck…well, more than luck, let’s say guts…Dad always
called me a ‘gutsy bugger’

GUESS WHO ARRIVED THAT FIRST DAY ON THE JOB?

Once the board was replaced all went well.   Firing box for  Explosives worked perfectly. All I had to do was push the button and  then
write down the milliseconds it took  for the sound wave to reach the seismograph.  Simply add  up the little twinkling lights.  At least that
is what I remember.  Things became routine.

My next shock was when I returned to the motel.
Marjorie was unpacking her suitcase in our room.  




“Marjorie, I thought you were going to wait a couple of days?”
“Not in that Vancouver hotel.  I  was sacred so I caught the night 
bus to Merritt…arrived this morning.”
“Scared?”
“Strange men…noise…drunks…did not want to stay around.”
“Glad to see you…perfectly safe here…”

A little later, the mine geologist showed up to make me feel welcome.  Me?
He was surprised to find an  attractive young woman in my room with me.
Wore a kind of lopsided grin when I introduced Marjorie to him.

The next day I got the scuttlebutt from our hammer man that the execs thought I had
brought a hooker in from Vancouver.  They were certain of that.  No matter how many
times  I introduced  Marjorie as my wife, they figured I was leading them on.

“Marjorie, these guys think you are a hooker…can’t dissuade them…”
“So, let’s leave it at that then Alan.”

Pictures: Marjorie…I know these were taken a few years after the BC venture…but they seem to fit.

As the days wore on, I think they came to realize Marjorie was my wife but we were 
never sure that fact was believed.  There is  an old story about mining that I picked
up when working on the Elliot Lake uranium job.  Our liaison man on that job said
“The best way to tell if a mine is going to be operational is the arrival of the hookers.”
Maybe Marjorie was a good luck omen.

WHAT WAS THE RESULT OF THE SURVEY?

I was only the field man.  The interpretation of my results was done by professional geophysicists like Dr. Paterson back in Toronto. 
The execs from Cominco would have liked me to tell them if the unstable north wall of the open pit was on the verge of collapse
or whether it would  stabilize due to a  tilt in the bedrock.  I never did know the results.  That was true of all the jobs except for
the Southern Irish job where Dr. Stam and geologist John Hogan were on site for the duration of the job.  

When we finished our seismic readings and the results were sent back to Toronto, the job was over.  

So here we were in Central British Columbia with s  few days before school started back in Toronto.   What should  we do?
Fly home right away?   I never liked doing that on any job.   Seemed  an absolute waste because most of the places we surveyed
were distant from Toronto. Some were fascinating places like Anchorage, Alaska…Keno City, Yukon Territory…Bunmahon, County 
Waterford, Slouther Ireland.   It would be stupid to rush home.  And it would be costly since two airfares were involved only one of
which was covered by the company.










“Marjorie, why don’t we catch the CPR Canadian…the transcontinental railway?”
“Can we do that?”
“On our own time…company job is over.”
“Expensive?”
“We can cover most of it with my return fare…maybe even cheaper.”
“How?”
“Let’s just reserve one sleeper bed…a lower?”
“Is there room for two?”
“Who cares?”

CPR The Canadian sleeping                car section

So we did.  We came back to Toronto on board the ‘Canadian’…meals in the dining car, vistas enjoyed from
the dome car and both of us folded into the lower bunk sleeper.   A little tight but No problem.  Job over.

AND  SO  ENDED MY CREER AS A FIELD EXPLORATION MAN IN THE MINING INDUSTRY.
EACH DAY SEEMED TO HAVE A NEW ADVENTURE.  SO GLAD YOU HAVE TAKEN
THE TIME TO READ THESE NOTES.

ALAN SKEOCH
FEB. 8, 2019

P.S. There will be some short notes coming…such  as the GOOD FOOD note below


THE GOOD LIFE : GOURMET COOK 

    (And a game for you to test your vision)


Envy?  I can understand why many readers are envious when the descriptions of life in the
wilderness are sent.   I have noted that some recipients only look at the pictures
and ignore the rich prose that I take a long time to string together.  So here is a very
short descriptive essay that is really a game.  See if you can find each of the items
listed below.  The picture underscores just how wonderful life in the bush can be.

photo  Taken: Yukon job 1962 



See if you can find the following from list under the photo




1) Spruce pole bed
2) Gold Pan
3) Bird’s Custard can
4) Bird’s Cutard with stale bread and Klim milk powder
5) wash basen/ dining bowl  (double duty)
6) Candles  (indication this camp has been used for week)
7) Instant coffee cans
8) long underwear
9) fancy boots
10) Mattress
11) Alarm Clock, wind  up kind
12) tarpaulin floor
13) discarded  matches
14) Two spoons (evidence of communal dining)
15) Clothing storage area
16) Mystery: A boot lace? string? heavy duty tooth floss?

    17) One reader noticed the person in the photo is left handed…as I am.

          But I did not own such a fancy pair of long underwear.  We shared
          the meal, however, both left handed cooks.
   18) Another reader commented  on his clean feet and wondered
         whether he had  washed his feet in the wash basin before making
         the skim milk, custard  and stale bread gourmet dinner.  It is  just
        possible he did do that which would add some fine particles to the meal.

alan skeoch
Feb. 8,2019
(picture was taken on the Yukon job in 1961 or 1962)


Mystery: Archeology of prospector’s life: THE GOOD LIFE

THE GOOD LIFE 

Envy?  I can understand why many readers are envious when the descriptions of life in the
wilderness are sent.   I have noted that some recipients only look at the pictures
and ignore the rich prose that I take a long time to string together.  So here is a very
short descriptive essay that is really a game.  See if you can find each of the items
listed below.  The picture underscores just how wonderful life in the bush can be.

photo  Taken: Yukon job 1962 



See if you can find the following from list under the photo




1) Spruce pole bed
2) Gold Pan
3) Bird’s Custard can
4) Bird’s Cutard with stale bread and Klim milk powder
5) wash basen/ dining bowl  (double duty)
6) Candles  (indication this camp has been used for week)
7) Instant coffee cans
8) long underwear
9) fancy boots
10) Mattress
11) Alarm Clock, wind  up kind
12) tarpaulin floor
13) discarded  matches
14) Two spoons (evidence of communal dining)
15) Clothing storage area
16) Myarwey boot lace? string? heavy duty tooth floss?