EPISODE 389 “STRIPPING THE GEARS” ( with Bill Brooks)

EPISODE 389   “STRIPPING THE GEARS”  (with Bill Brooks)


alan skeoch
July19, 2021



“World treating you well, young fellow?”
“good and bad…up and down…hot and cold”
“Come over here…something for you to see.”

I had a job for Bill Brooks to do…to make a special sunflower…but
he got me distracted right away.  Bill is a mechanic who likes
to be challenged.

“Take a look at those gears”
“Look good to me…what are they worth?’
“Can you spare $3,000?”
“You mean those gears are worth $3,000?  what’s wrong with them?”
“Look closer….gears have been stripped…”



“I have to find new or used gears like this…to fit the front end of a
four wheel drive Ford tractor built in the 1960’s.”
“Any luck?”’:
“We can get new gears from a factory in Italy for $3,000…right now we are
asking around scrap yards for a used set but no luck.”





“Stripping the gears…jamming a gear change without using the clutch…that’ll
start the stripping….eventually the gears just will not work together any more.”

“You know something Bill…”

“Know some things.”

“The term ‘stripping the gears’ could be applied to the current big
problems below the border in the United States.   A lot of gear 
stripping going on down there…eventually the government could 
just not work any more.  Trump stripped the gears a lot when he 
was president….”



EPISODE 388 ROAD JUST DID NOT LOOK GOOD … UNTL OUR HIBISCUS GREETD

EPISODE 388   ROAD JUST DID NOT LOOK GOOD … UNTL OUR HIBISCUS GREETED


alan skeoch
july 13. 2021

TWO WAYS OF LOOKING AT RAINDROPS…BETTER TITLE



“Alan, this storm is bad…cannot see as I drive…should I pull over?
“too dangerous…cars behind will drive over us…keep moving.”
“Why did they decide to reconstruct the road?”
“To test your driving skills Marjorie.”





“Alan, I can’t see the road….driving blind.”
“Try prayer.”




“Road blocked…just as rain eased….”
“Power of prayer”


Not exactly comforting to find this blocking the road just as the rain eased up.

And then we were home and raindrops began to look charming


EPISODE 386 YOUR HOME ON NATIVE LAND…BOOK I WROTE ON FIRST NATIONS PEOPLE…SAD RESULT

EPISODE 386     YOUR HOME ON NATIVE LAND…BOOK I WROTE ON FIRST NATIONS PEOPLE…SAD RESULT


alan skeoch
July 2021




When I wrote ‘Your Home on Native Land’, I was quite proud of the result.   I felt I was doing my small bit
to right the wrongs suffered by our First Nations people.  Well, the old adage that pride goeth before a fall
soon deflated my pride.  




“Dad, you must publish your stories.  Get an agent.”
“Kevin, I do not want to go through that grief.”
“But the stories are good.””
“So say you…an agent, then a publisher will put them through
a meat grinder along with my soul, if I have a soul.  I would rather
just muddle along and hope someone actually reads the stories
on the internet.”

Writing is a tough and thankless job that triggers more criticism than compliments.
I wonder why so many people actually write and publish books only to have
the manuscripts taken apart…sometimes brutally.  I have been on both ends
of this.   For a few years long ago, I was the book critic for the OSSTF BULLETIN.  Loved
doing the evaluations but now wish I had held back some of my smart ass comments.
Those comments hurt people.  I wish it had not been so.  I was young and thoughtless.
One book in particular should have been treated better.  Title? I think it was about an owl
and life experience.   I rushed the review…said things that must have hurt the author.
Regret that deeply even now … the review was 50 or so years ago. Very few ever
read it thankfully.

  So far I have authored and co-authored
around 13 book and several filmstrip histories (Filmstrip?  That word means nothing today).
All the books had to grind their way across the burning coals of criticism.

“Alan. you must be a rich man from the royalties!”

What a joke.  The Canadian writer, Hugh Garner, framed one of his
royalty checks.  It was somewhere around $2.50!    He cursed about that
in his book ‘One Damn Thing and Another’.  I know the feeling having received
such a check myself.  Today publishes do not send out such checks. Ten dollar
minimum royalty to get a check.

Some checks were larger and reasonable but no check
was ever humungous.  Young writers should never quit their day jobs.  Any author
will tell you that. (Publishing is a tough game as well…involves investing lots of
cash that may never return.)

Advice: “Write because you want to write…as if you have something
worth saying.  Never expect a financial reward.  That will keep you sane
and reduce the number of expletives you will use.”


  This book titled
YOUR HOME ON NATIVE LAND comes to mind.   Never seen a copy?  Little wonder since the
book was likely ground into paper dust several years ago.  Before that happened
the publisher, Jackie Stewart, delivered 30 copies to our house.  Most are still here.


The legends of our indigenous people are fascinating and plump with meaning.
Particularly the Legend of Creation which is told something like this”

LEGEND OF CREATION

“High above the clouds lived the Sky People
One day, a crack appeared in the sky a hole, where
a big tree had fallen over.
Sky Woman , who was pregnant, looked down through the hole…slipped
and fell.
As she fell, a pair of loons saw her and caught her on their backs, saving her
from drowning.
But they could not hold her, so they cried for help.
Then a great SNAPPING TURTLE emerged fro the water world and 
Sky Woman dropped on the turtle’s back.
But his back, though large, was not large enough to hold
her forever.
So all the creatures of the water and air were called to a meeting to see
what they could do for Sky Woman.
The snapping turtle said, “We must have some earth.”
And so the beaver and the muskrat and all the birds that could
dive tried to get some mud from the bottom of the ocean.
They failed.
Then the great snapping turtle found some mud already lodged
in a hidden place in its own mouth.
“Here is some mud.Rub it on the edges of my back and it will grow.”
They did, and the turtle’s shell grow to become the land we know
as North America.*

(*First Nation story tellers of eastern North America repeated versions of this story
…with the same core truths…expressed
orally,  hence variations.   Indigenous people of western North America used
ravens in their legends.)

THINK ABOUT IT:  GIANT SNAPPING TURTLE and PLATE TECTONICS

The Legend is not that much different from the scientific
explanation of plate tectonics…great masses of rock floating
above the earth’s liquid magma.   One touching theme in the
legend is First Nation respect for all living things on the earth…
and also recognition of women as leaders.


MY THOUGHTS AS I BEGAN TO WRITE

  Why did I choose a boy rather than a girl?  Boys, in my
experience teaching high school for 30 years, just do not read as well as girls.  So I wrote a book
that I hoped boys would read as well as girls.  I created an indigenous boy to tell the story of his people. He asked
questions that his wise grandmother answered.  All using first person dialogue between the boy and his grandmother.

Seemed like a good idea.  It was not.


End of story.

Well not quite the end.  If I had not taken on the task I would never have got the
phone call that led me to the Lubicon Cree…a small tribe that was forgotten.
Next story.

alan

EPIODE 385 WALL PAINTINGS BY MR. KUNA…ISLINGTON

EPISODE 385     WALL PAINTINGS BY MR. JOHN KUNA…ISLINGTON


alan skeoch
July 2021


This could have been my grandfather, Ed Freeman…trying to make a living selling produce from his tiny farm near
Islington in 1908.  Tough times.   Sold the farm and headed for Northern Ontario where conditions were worse…seemed
all the north was on fire…bush fires.

MARJORIE SKEOCH MAKES A DISCOVERY


“Alan, I want to show you something wonderful..startling.”
“Not another visit to the Salvation  Army used clothing store I hope.”
“Don’t be silly…I want you to see the street art gallery by John Kuna on brick walls of Islington.”

“Islington … that was where granddad Freeman first settled in 1908…tried
to run a market garden.  Tough time.  Failed.”
“You might see him in one of the paintings.” (SEE FIRST PAINTING…HORSES AND WAGON)

EPIODE 385 WALL PAINTINGS BY MR. KUNA…ISLINGTON

EPISODE 385     WALL PAINTINGS BY MR. JOHN KUNA…ISLINGTON


alan skeoch
July 2021


This could have been my grandfather, Ed Freeman…trying to make a living selling produce from his tiny farm near
Islington in 1908.  Tough times.   Sold the farm and headed for Northern Ontario where conditions were worse…seemed
all the north was on fire…bush fires.

MARJORIE SKEOCH MAKES A DISCOVERY


“Alan, I want to show you something wonderful..startling.”
“Not another visit to the Salvation  Army used clothing store I hope.”
“Don’t be silly…I want you to see the street art gallery by John Kuna on brick walls of Islington.”

“Islington … that was where granddad Freeman first settled in 1908…tried
to run a market garden.  Tough time.  Failed.”
“You might see him in one of the paintings.” (SEE FIRST PAINTING…HORSES AND WAGON)

EPISODE 384 EXPERIENCES WITH INDIGENOUS PEOPLE…”OK, BOYS, PICK YOU UP IN SAULT STE. MARIE.”

EPISODE 384     EXPERIENCES WITH INDIGENOUS PEOPLE…”OK, BOYS, PICK YOU UP IN SAULT STE. MARIE.”


alan skeoch
July 2021

This story is too scattered…I know that.  Originally much longer but I cut
a lot.   Included is a small indigenous story…an evening in a beer bar with 
our First Nations employees. The point of the story.  That evening was Warm and friendly…
as were most of my evenings with First Nations people in tiny communities across North
America.

Please excuse the scattered story line.  No time to cut even more. If you
need a theme then consider the story a bit of Canadiana.  This was a 
big year for Marjorie and me…marriage.  The money I earned in the bush
was invested in our honeymoon.   Three months labour spent in four days.



AFERNOON SUN, LAKE SUPERIOR…by Lawren Harris

PIC ISLAND, LAWREN HARRIS…GROUP OF SEVEN
Captures the hardness of some landscapes on Lake Superior…near Marathon



This is the company town of Marathon looking out on to Lake Superior…strikingly
close to the paintings of Lawren Harris (i.e. Pic Island…only  a few miles from
the  town).  The town smelled bad…air saturated with H2S…hydrogen sulphide
from the paper (cardboard) mill.  We set up camp in a gravel pit east of town.



Summer of 1963 is hard to forget.  We were married that year and, believe it or not,
Marjorie was not sure I would make it to the wedding.  Dr. Paterson had sent me with
a crew to check out the mineralization around Marathon, Ontario.  That’s a long way
from Toronto. I left all marriage arrangements to Marjorie.  

To ensure my return for the August 24 wedding, Marjorie, her guardian Phyllis Morgan and my
mother decided to come to our bush camp and drive me back to Toronto. 

 Everyone was in good
spirits including the fellows in our crew.  

But there was one problem.  Our linecutting crew was First Nations people from Heron Bay, a reserve
near Marathon.  It was getting late in August and the boys had planned a trip to Sault Ste Marie…a drinking
session in the bar at the Albert Hotel.  They had a ride down to the SAullt but no ride back to our camp.

“Don’t worry, boys, I’ll drive down and pick you up;”

There were two hitches in the plan.  

HITCH #1:  The distance between Marathon and Sault Ste. Marie is 255 miles (411 km)….nearly
a five hour drive.  A ten hour Drive there and back.  Not a big deal to residents of Northern Ontario.

So away they went for the week-end .  Most of the time would be spent drinking beer and subsequent revelry.

HITCH #2:  Marjorie, aunt Phyllis and my mom were staying at the Albert Hotel the same evening.
I was not too sure how they would react to the ‘boys’ in the beverage room. Now, in retrospect, I should
have introduced them.  Stuffy of me not to do that.

Actually the whole experience was great.  I loved the lonely drive down to the Salt…even stopped twice
for a swim.   Did so when my eyes began to wander.  One swim at Batchawana Bay.

Meeting the ‘boys’ with all their friends was a great experience.   This was their turf…their friends…their week-end…
and they were being picked up by their boss.   The term boss is not nice. I wondered how it would work.  No need.  The moment I arrived
in the bar room there was a great whoop and the boys hustled me to a seat and bought me a couple of
draughts.   The glasses of beer were tiny in the 1960;’s.  We socialized then the boys piled in the truck
and we headed back to Marathon…255 miles North west on Highway #17.    Arrived late at night.  Dropped
the boys of at Heron Bay then hit the sack in our  tent camp.

Late the next afternoon the women arrived.     They loved the campsite and the Toronto crew.
I think would hey have loved our Heron Bay crew,  Ojibwa First Nations, but they never met. My error.

HITCH #3    We got married right on time.  The Marathon gang sent us a card table…good one,  lasted 40 years.






The beach near Marathon, Ontario…with worn mountains in the distance.  The same mountains Lawren Harris saw and painted.




EPISODE 383 MEET MOSES LORD…INDIGENOUS PERSON, YUKON TERRITORY, 1962

EPISODE 383    MEET MOSES LORD…INDIGENOUS PERSON, YUKON TERRITORY, 1962



Our Yukon job in 1961 was my closest relationship with first nations people…mostly
Northern Tuchone from their Mayo Landing Reserve.   


This is Moses Lord having canned peaches for lunch on the job.  He seemed to
be an important person among his people.


“Do you want to crawl into an old mine?”
“Sure do.”
“Then come along with Dinky and me…I”ll bring a lantern.”
(Strange, I do not remember Moses ever calling me Alan…)

alan skeoch
July 2021

MEET MOSES LORD

My two previous indigenous person stories were based on short
 meetings.  Very short…maybe 5 minutes max.   Enough time to make
a lasting impression on me but really not enough time to make into a big
deal.  Hell, the first contact was not even with a real indigenous person. In that
incident I was mistaken for a First Nations person. “Look, there’s an Indian up
on that rock outcrop.  Take a picture, quick.”  It was m sitting on the outcrop…skins
bed brown by exposure.

The second incident lacked humour.   An incident of which I am not proud…even
at the  time in May, 1960, I was uneasy with what I had done.  I took pictures
that would have been best not  taken.  Unflatteirng pictures.  

Now is the time for my third experience with First Nations people.  Much much longer.
Moses Lord and I worked together from May to September, off and on.  He was one
of our employees.  Not hired because he was indigenous. Just hired from the available
labour pool in Mayo Landing, Yukon Territory.

The only way I knew he was aboriginal was because of his name.  Moses Lord had
the clear ring of an imposed name given by some kind of  Christian missionary .
Moses was old enough to be my father…I was 22 and he seemed somewhere between
50 and 60.   

Now I wonder if he had been one of the native children yanked from their
parens aNd put in a kind of prison known as a ‘residential school’.   That thought
never crossed my mind in 1962.  I did not even know much about residential schools.
The subject never came up during the whole summer.  

Moses was a nice man to work with.  Friendly.  Once he knew I was interested in
finding abandoned placer gold mines dating back to the end of the 19th century
he showed me one that we could explore.  Most placer gold mines were vertical..i.e.
miners dug down through the permafrost to bed rock where gold nuggets and
gold dust was possibly trapped in the cracks or faults in the rock.  A few were
horizontal where miners had tunnelled into hillsides.   The one that Moses
showed me was fantastic as the tunnel was festooned with ice crystals and seemed
a fairyland.  At one point we even found well worn shovels and pickaxes.

So I considered myself close to Moses.  When I began writing this episode I expected
to say how a warm relationship was established. That would be an overstatement.
Granted we got along well although
it must have been hard for Moses who was perhaps 50 years of age having to do what
a 22 year old ‘boss’ decided was necessary.

In retrospect I realize we were not close.  Friends…yes.  But I had no idea whether Moses was Northern Tuchone
like most local First Nations were.  Most but not all.  I knew nothing of his family except he lived in a house
on the reserve ‘that seems filled with women of all ages’.  He was married…had children…perhaps
grandchildren but I never asked about them.  In other words there was social distance between
us.   This was not intentional.  Perhaps due to respect… for I noticed other First Nation workers seemed to
defer to Moses.   “Dinky” for instance who is in the mine tunnel with Moses.  Dinky had a trap line…Moses related how
a wolverine crawled down the stove pipe of Dinky’s cabin…vicious, solitary creatures.  Dinky never said a word.

When the job was over and I was packing up our equipment in September one of the local
people…I think it was Moses…said:

“How would you like a set of caribou antlers?”
“Love to pay for a set.”
“No pay. There is a set leaning against our house…you can have them.”

And I still have them.

Caribou antlers.   I never saw a wild caribou in all my  years doing mining exploration.




DINKY with Moses (shoulder)…huge fire with lots of moss
piled on to get smoke … our defence against the flies.

Decades later, around 1980 I was asked to do a radio story on CBC
about something related to the Yukon and I mentioned Moses.  When
the broadcast was over i was called to the broadcast booth.  “Call for
you, Alan…from the Yukon.”   One of Moses Lord’s daughtert wanted to 
say thank you for mentioning her dad.   Maybe we were closer than I thought.


SOURCE COMMENT…RE NA-SHO YAK DUN….FIRST NATION PEOPLE IN MAYO LANDING


The First Nation of Na-Cho Nyäk Dun represents the most northerly community of the Northern Tutchone language and culture group. In the Northern Tutchone language the Stewart River is called Na Cho Nyak, meaning Big River. 

Historically, the First Nation of Na-Cho Nyäk Dun lived and trapped throughout the area, using the rich supply of game animals, fish, birds, and numerous plants for food and for medicinal purposes.   

Their lifestyle required traveling throughout the First Nation’s traditional territory at various times of the year, for hunting, fishing, and gathering food to survive.

Today, the Na-Cho Nyäk Dun has a membership of 602. As a self-governing First Nation, the First Nation has the ability to develop and adopt laws on behalf of their citizens and their Settlement lands.

They are actively involved in affairs of the Mayo community to promote a better, healthier lifestyle for its future generations and a strong economy based on its rich natural resources.

EPISODE 382 GARDENING WITH BLACK PLASTIC (Tarpaulins) AND OLD TIRES…

EPISODE 382      GARDENING WITH BLACK PLASTIC AND OLD TIRES…


Alan skeoch
July 2021

Gardening is a sport that we always seem to lose.   Our weeds race vertically
faster than our garden plants.  Eventually we give up and either
abandon the garden to the winning weeds or decide to get revenge
by driving the John Deere lawn mower over everything.  

We usually have a bit of joy as the race begins.  Like our
row of Zinnias this year and our cosmos jungle where the
weeds cannot  get a foothold.

There is a solution.  A pathway to victory. Not pretty.  First let’s look at the
gardens on July 1…before the weeds….just to see if the race is worth the effort.



Zinnias are treasures



Gardens spotted here and there make skeins of shorn grass interesting.

Pond gardens require no work at all



Cosmos know how to beat weeds…crowd them…feed the weed their elbows.




Nest year we are planning a whole garden of zinnias…alongside the cosmos.




strawberries are an early crop…B.W. (before weeds)

“Alan, did Marjorie grow these berries?”

“Truth be told.  No.  We bought them but thought they
looked good in this story.”
“Can we trust other stories then?”
“Allow for a little padding now and then…but, yes,
I try to keep the stories honest…buttressed by pictures that do not lie.”
“Those strawberries are a picture.”
“Right.  That’s why I am being honest.  So you can trust my stories.”
“Do you  grow strawberries?”
“Yes…as you will see.”





We grow strawberries in a giant plastic tub…only way they can win.



Dasies know how to make an ancient dump rake look like a fine carriage…daisies come
to bloom early…no help needed.


There has to be some kind of reward for wild tiger lillies.   When tender flowers
fail, Tiger Lillies come to the rescue and bloom longer.


EXPERIMENT:   Will the hand seeded Sweet Clover suppress the weeds.
We will keep you informed.  This crop was planned to help the bees…am I
misled?


Some weeds I love. 
Find three gardens here…two with the weeds starting to dominate.


why not let the weeds dominate…

This garden looks good right now but the weeds are poking through….

And now for the big experiment.  Ugly for sure…..

we spread big sheets of black plastic sheeting… covered the ground. “Let’s deny the weeds light…
no chance for photosynthesis.   Then cut holes to plant
our prize corps.   The weeds were being denied sunlight. Death in the dark under the tarp.



In other case we planted beets in a big wooden  crate…three feet above 
the ground.   


And then we gathered old rubber tires to hold the tarp down and provide nests for
the cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, pumpkins, gourds to thrive.


Pretty?   Not very.  Some late germinate cucumbers in a truck tire fortress.

Old cattle troughs with garish bedsteads are homes to red onions and yellow bush beans.



And big plastic bins on movable skids are growing places for parsley, thyme, oregano,
celery, tomatoes, peppers…etc.etc.   When the weeds get too big we will pick 
up the skids with the bob cat and settle the pots where weeds have been mowed.
Sounds stupid, I know.



Where did I  get the idea?  From our son Andrew who has constructed his garden
in such a way that the plastic sheet is not ugly and the old car and truck tires
are clothed in edible plant life.  Then he harrows the periphery with the tractor.
Father copying son.

alan

Coming soon…Part 3 of indigenous contacts…The story of Moses Lord…a father
figure working for a 22 year old ‘boss’.  Must have been hard to  take but Moses kept
things cheerful.

EPISODE 381 MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE: THE ALASKA INCIDENT 1960…ILL CONSIDERED PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN


EPISODE 381    MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE:   THE ALASKA INCIDENT 1960…ILL CONSIDERED PHOTOGRAPH TAKEN

alan skeoch
July 3, 2021



THIS IS A STORY ABOUT THE PICTURE BELOW…A YUPIK COUPLE ON  THE EDGE OF THE BERING SEA

Should I have taken the picture (Below) ?   I am not sure.   In the back of mY mind at the time I wondered if my actions
were appropriate and  that thought has stayed with me for 60 years.    After much searching I found the picture
and replicated it below.  The Yupiks were very friendly, perhaps a little inebriated…perhaps not.  The Yupik people 
are Inuit.  Their territory covers the vast barren southwest corner of Alaska…fronting on the Bering Sea north of
the Aleutian Chain.   Dillingham, Alaska…a salmon fishing and canning centre.  Called a City but really barely a town.
Over one tenth of the population live below the poverty line.  Crime is high.  Those facts have not changed in the
last 60 years.  

In 1960, I was quite unaware of Dillingham.  I had never heard of a Yupik. 

 “Alan, you will be going to Alaska
on a Turam job…wear some good clothes to impress our Humble Oil contractors…searching for copper…Our crew will
be setting up diamond drill sites.  Big project, there will be two Sikorsky helicopters at the campsite.  Bottom line!
You guys have make a good impression.”


MAKING A GOOD IMPRESSION

Time has passed, I can say more about the job now.     Dr. Paterson got us all Green Cards which meant we had skills that no one else in the United States had.
Partly true.   Bill Morrison taught us all we needed to know about the Turam method of detecting mineral conductors deep under
overburden.   Simple put, we were trained to use a motor generator and a mile of copper shielded cable to push an electrical
current into the ground and take readings of that current on a grid.  If there was a conductor …i.e. a great lump of chalcopyrite
under the ground… then we could detect an ‘anomaly’ that just might be important.

Were we important people?   Specially trained? Who were we really?  Three of us were students at
the University of Toronto…Don VanEvery, Ian Rutherford and Alan Skeoch…two maths and physics 
student and one history student. (What the hell was a history student doing here?  Good question.
I preferred to keep that part of my background invisible.)   Bill Morrison was the Turam expert and
I became his assistant.  Called ‘field men’…i.e. no engineering degrees.  The brains of our team
were Dr. John Stam, a true geophysicist, and Mike Chinnery, a recent geophysical grad from England.

Were we important people.  Felt that way even if it was a bluff.  One thing for sure was that we seemed
  important people to the two Yupik residents sitting on a wooden stoop
in a town that to me in 1960, was  unremarkable save for its salmon cannery and huge pile of beer bottles in the garbage dump.

IMPORTANT PEOPLE!

For some strange reason be landed in Saskatoon en route to Anchorage, Alaska.  
Even now so many years later this photo confirms our self importance.   Don VanEvery,
Ian Rutherford and Mike Chinnery.   Geophysical prospectors.   Suits!!

In the Ancharage airpot diner I ordered ‘Milk Toast’ for breakfast because it sounded sophisticated.
Turned out to be baby food which gave the team a laugh.

Leaving Anchorage we boarded a smaller prop driven passenger plane…a Fokker F 27. 

 “Well , boys, we 
can now say we flew in a Fokker.”
“Are not all airplanes Fokkers at one tome or another.”
(laughter)

We flew over the Alaskan 
Valley of Ten Thousand Smokes where the crust of the earth is thin and the seething cauldron of molten
stone beneath us comes to the surface.  

We flew westward for a couple of hours or more. Beneath us the land looked empty.   Then a strange thing
happened.  At least in my memory it was strange.  A crew member came back and hand cranked down the the landing
gear.  The F 27 could land on water as well as land.  Hand cranked?  Why?  had the hydraulics failed?

Ah, yes, the passenger terminal at Dillingham, Alaska, in 1960.  That could have been
a farmers’ drive shed back in Ontario but, here, in Dillingham it was the contact point with
the outside world.
Mike Chinnery and Alan Skeoch have kept up the pomposity four U.ofT. blazers.  Ian and Don have relaxed.

We only stayed in Dillingham for an  hour or so.  Just enough time for us to meet the two Yupik people and a chance
to see a Yupik  fish camp on the edge of the Bering Sea  where we had our fuel dump.
The S 52’s were revving up when I ran to the beach to get this photo.    Why were the hanging carcasses of
split salmon not bright red?   Simple answer. Because they were covered with flies.


At some point we met the Yupik man and wife.  At that point I took their picture.  Talk about aggorgance.
…self-importance…rudeness…holier than thou thinking.

Everything was moving so fast.   At the time I thought we would meet
many indigenous people.   Wrong.  These two were the onlyYupiks we 
saw on the whole summer job.

Isn’t that strange?   Why were the indigenous people so invisible?



 

Then we spent the summer being ferried by helicopter here and there across the empty space of SW Alaska.  We never even spotted
another Yupik.


Bill Morrison with the Turam console…


Bill Morrison expected me to help him with his main love…fishing.   We could fish while the midnight sun shone.
Of course this is an exaggeration. 

A barren land cut by occasional river valleys.  Thousands of years ago the Yupik people crossed here from Siberia.


  ALASKA 1960:    There were 31 of us on the job…25 American diamond
drillers and 6 Canadians using a Turam geophysical instrument to site drill sites in the great
emptiness of south west Alaska…north of the Aleutian Chain.

What I do remember clearly is that three of us, Canadians, proudly sported our University of Toronto dress
jackets.  Anglo Canadians with specialized knowledge. Proud and arrogrant we must have appeared. 

We only had a few minutes in Dillingham before we 
were to be ferried by big Sikorsky helicopters to our tent campsite in the interior.

I did not think.   Sitting on the doorstep in the village were two indigenous people.  Likely Yupik.  A Man and his wife…older…
perhaps in their 60’s.   Both seemed either super friendly or somewhat inebriated.    Without asking I took their picture.  Think about that.  These two Inigenous
Americans were  treated like I had been years earlier in a rock outcrop in northern Quebec…subjects of photography.   

In this case, however, I was the photographer just like the priest and his carload on the Opemiska road.

For the rest of the summer on the barren lands we never saw a native person.  Yet this was their home.
None were part of our crews.  They were the only indigenous people we met.    WE flew in…did our
survey…and flew out.  I never even asked their names.

Somewhere I have another picture.  Not proud of it.  When the Yupik man got up to shake my hand he
fell flat on his face. I helped him to his feet and asked one of our crew to take picture of us.
I was wearing my University of Toronto dress jacket.  He was wearing the clothes you see in the picture.
Even then, back in late May 1960, I felt uncomfortable about that picture.   I had crossed a line. Violated
a trust.  Exploited a situation.   

Today, in the bright lights of awareness of  others, I would not have  taken those pictures.
What should I have done?   The same thing that most people would have done…pretended
these indigenous people did not exist.  Which is worse? 

alan skeoch
July 2021 
  
WHO ARE THE YUPIK PEOPLE?

Population[edit]

The Central Alaskan Yup’ik people are by far the most numerous of the various Alaska Native groups. They speak the Central Alaskan Yup’ik language, a member of the  Eskimo–Aleut family of languages.
As of the 2002 U.S. Census, the Yupik population in the United States numbered more than 24,000,[4] of whom more than 22,000 lived in Alaska, the vast majority in the seventy or so communities in the traditional Yup’ik 

EPISODE 379 MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE , CANADA DAY 2021″ “LOOK, THERE’S AN INDIAN…GET YOUR CAMERA.”

(Beginning…short series on my meetings with indigenous Canadians )

EPISODE 379    MEMORIES OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLE ON CANADA DAY 2021: “LOOK, THERE’S AN INDIAN…GET YOUR CAMERA.”


alan skeoch
July 1, 2021

In my ten years of summer work in mining exploration I met many indigenous Canadians and two indigenous Americans.  In retrospect
the experience is unsettling.,,but also joyful.  Mostly joyful.






This is the closest photo I can find to illustrate a strange experience in late summer 1967…Northern Quebec.




My experience with indigenous Canadians is episodic … i.e. discrete stories unrelated to each other
but collectively important to me on this Canada Day 2021.  

1) Summer 1957:   I had been working in a tent camp near Chibougamau, northern Quebec for two months.  Outdoor work
slogging through our Canadian coniferous forests.  Tough work.  No time for the niceties of civilized life
like a haircut or a bath in soapy water.   Our crew was flown out to an old logging camp on the Opemiska
road…a wide gravel road where mining trucks had the right of way and precious few cars ever travelled.

Early One  sunshine filled evening I climbed up on a rock outcrop overlooking the roadway.  In a cloud of dust
a car came barreling along.   Passed me by.  Then braked and backed up.  A priest got out along with
some well dressed passengers with cameras.

“Look up there…that is an Indian…take pictures if you want.”

They were looking at me then snapped a few pictures. And then they were gone.  That was my earliest experience
with native people.  I was the native person.  I was caught on camera as if I was a moose or black bear that had
crept out of the forest.   Yes, it was amusing.  But in the back of my brain it was also unsettling. WhyWere native people
treated this way…i.e. ‘Things’ to be photographed then ignored?

And what made me look like an ‘Indian’?  My skin was now dark…like leather.  My hair was uncut.  My skin a bernished leather.
I had given up the war with insect cannibals…let them have their victory if they could chew their way through smoke filled pores.
I was part of the forest.  An oddity…a shadow.  My existence was entertainment…captured then forgotten.
That moment in 1957 remains crystal clear in my memory.  There was something about the moment ,,,those  cameras snapping.  
Something disconcerting.   At the time, however, it was just amusing. “Look, there’s an Indian up there on the rock.”

Our crew of ten men were all Anglo-Canadians.  That is we were all English speaking.  Our linecutting crew,
on the other hand, was all Franco-Canadian.  French speaking.  Our two crews did not talk to each other.  We lived
in the two solitudes of Canadian life.  

What was missing?   There were no indigenous Canadians on either crew.   At least none to my mind.  Yet not many
miles to the North West was the Mistassini Reserve…a large population of English speaking native people..

Chibougamau was a boom town.  Miners…lots of them.  Young men mostly with a few prostitutes available at
$20 a throw.   All this was very surprising to me for I was just a Grade 11 high school student from Toronto.  Voltaire’s
Candide as it were.

Where were our  indigenous Canadians in this hurly burly world of Chibougamau?   Where were they? They were not present.
They may have been here and there in the forested fringe but I never met one…never saw one….then I became one.

Where were they?   This is…was… their land.   Why were some of them not working the bush trails they
must have known so well.   Why was a Toronto high school student doing the job.
 Now it is year 2021 and I have never heard an answer.  Where were they?


NEXT:  PART TWO … BARREN LAND OF WEST ALASKA

THE ONLY time we were ever armed as geophysical exploration teams was the Alaska job.
But I remember meeting two Yupik indigenous people more than I remember this
rifle meant to scare off Kodiak bears.   The memory of first contact with Yupiks does not
reflect well on me.   Remember I was just a kid.  The contact was fleeting but in retrospect
disconcerting.   Coming in Episode 380