Alan Skeoch

Author: terraviva

  • Fwd: EPISODE 99 LAST FLIGHT OUT ON A CRIPPLED BUSH PLANE



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: EPISODE 99 LAST FLIGHT OUT ON A CRIPPLED BUSH PLANE
    Date: August 25, 2020 at 10:04:17 AM EDT
    To: Alan Skeoch <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>, Marjorie Skeoch <marjorieskeoch@gmail.com>, John Wardle <john.t.wardle@gmail.com>




    EPISODE 99”  LAST FLIGHT OUT … ON A CRIPPLED BUSH PLANE

    alan skeoch
    August 2020




    EPISODE 99   LAST FLIGHT OUT ON A  CRIPPLED BUSH PLANE

    alan skeoch
    august 2020

    PILOT  “Listen boys, I do not like this little lake
    so do your work fast.  The water is going down
    and  landing will get difficult.”

    “Take less per load.”

    “Possible but soon there’ll not be enough water to land.”

    “These  are the last off our anomalies…we will work fast.
    Come back for us in three days.:  (I do not remember this time line exactly)


    The summer of 1964 was hot.  To many that means heightened fire  danger which was
    true.  We had a no fire rule for much of the summer. But the real danger was the slow but
    steady evaporation of water from the lakes.  A lot of water
    was gone between June and September.  That fact is apparent in the photograph of
    our fly camp (Episode 97).  Looks like the water has gone down five  feet or more.

    Flight pontoon landings that were easy and safe in June became difficult and dangerous
    in September.

    This picture was  taken  in mid August.  Take a  look at the high  water mark on the shore.  Seems water had  gone  down about
    four or five feet by then.  On  our last job the water level had dropped more.  Very dangerous for water landings and takeoffs as
    we discovered.

    It was our last job. 
    we Were  finished. The crew had returned to Paradise Lodge to pack up.
    Marjorie had caught the ACR to Sault Ste Marie.  “Meet you at
    the airport, Marjorie…maybe around noon.”   My part of the job  was finished.  I had to be
    back in school by the end of the Labour Day Week  End.    

    The plan was neat.  We had finished work on an anomaly close to a small lake
    south of our Wart Lake camp.  All that was left was a pile of gear….tents, cooking
    goods, some wire frame cots, axes,shovels.,Coleman  stoves, fuel, etc.  I don’t really remember what was
    in the pile of goods.   Maybe 200  to 300 pounds  of
    euipment.  



    “I don’t like this lake…too shallow,” said the pilot when he dropped us a few days earlier.

    “And it will get worse.”

    We did the job as fast as we could and had arranged a pick up.  Don’t remember much about the first flight
      but I do  know I was  feeling quite nostalgic.  This would be the last bush job of m life.  I knew that
    and wanted to savour my exit alone. Crew out first.  The flight went
    well although the distance from touchdown to the end of the lake was short.  

    That was not the problem.  I did  not expect a  problem for I was  wrapped in
    my memories of so  many bush  planes on so many lakes.  Mostly Beavers but a  few
    Cessnas and one Seabee which was just a visitor being dropped off.  “Those 
    Seabees are really dangerous.  Motor at the rear.  Pushing.  If the motor quits the
    goddamn thing drops like a rock.  No ability to glide.   Cessnas  glide best.”

    The Cessna 170 came in  at tree top level.  Had  to.  Landing strip of water was short 
    as evaporation created shallows where  once  there was two or three feet of water.

    The pilot cut power early and  the plane settled  down  harder than usual.  Bigger chevron 
    of water.  And something different.  Slightly lopsided.  The plane turned  and  idled
    its way to our landing site.  Slight slant.  Odd.

    “Hit a fucking deadhead.  Ripped the pontoon…goddamnit.”

    Submerged  objects terrified bush pilots.  Often they took a run at landing
    then circled.  Looking for objects.  Like dead heads…old submerged logs or
    trees  sometimes angled upwards.

    “I’m going to pump out the water while you load.  Could be tricky.  Put 
    load  as far forward  as you can…need the weight for extra  lift.”

    Took no time at all.  Ignition. And we worked our way to best takeoff  position
    and he gave it full power.  We flumed our way down the lake with an increasing
    slant as the pontoon filled with water.   Fast but not fast enough.  The far shore 
    and  tree line got closer and  closer.  “Can’t make it!” and the pilot cut power and  the plane settled.  Slightly off centre.  And close
    to shore.  Too close.

    “Dump the load on the beach.  We’ll try  once more but empty.  Got to get off
    this fucking lake. “  He cursed and  pumped out the pontoon water.

    “There.  Let’s give it another try.”

    He taxied down as far as he could without getting tangled in weeds.  Then
    we were moving.  The pontoon filled with water as we went full throttle
    down the lake.  Far shore became the near shore.  No lift yet.

    “Move your body  forward…gut more lift.”

    Then we had liftoff.  To me it seemed  just in time.  Seemed we were
    just skirting the swamp and  maybe touching tree tops  Not true of
    course.  Imagination played.

    The rest of the flight was easy.  In an hour we had landed at Sault Ste
    Marie where Marjorie was supposed to be waiting.  I had said noon but
    we were late, very late. She was not there.
    Her turquoise VW beetle  was in the parking lot but no sign of 
    Marjorie.

    Then she walked into the holding lounge from the aircraft side.

    “I pretended to be  sick.”


    “A man offered me a tour of the city from his plane.  I did  not
    know he was just a pilot in training.  Scared me near to death.
    Only way we got back on the ground  fast was I pretended  to
    be about to vomit”

    And so  it ended.   Our days of mining exploration were over.  They
    ended with a bang.

    alan  skeoch
    August 2020

    P.S.  I know this sounds hard to believe.  Writing from memory
    can result in exaggeration.  So here are the simple facts
    of that last flight.

    1) Water levels had  fallen dramatically (see picture)
    2) Pilot did hit something and punctured one pontoon.
    3) I  watched him pump out the pontoon
    4) We failed to get liftoff on our first attempt and jettisoned
    the cargo on the beach.
    5) Second attempt was just barely successful and I remember
    the pilot asking me to lean forward.
    6) Our baggage?   Do  not know what happened.
    7) Marjorie did take a joy ride that scared her enough to feign vomit
    8) This  was  not my final job.  The next summer we flew to Merritt
    B.C. on a short seismic job.  But this Paradise Lodge job was
    my last bush  job.
















  • EPISODE 100 BEST CROP IS FLAX…FOR THE MOVIE INDUSTRY

    EPISODE 100    BEST CROP IS FLAX…FOR THE MOVIE INDUSTRY


    alan skeoch
    August 2020

    “OUR best crop is Flax.”

    Friends  and relatives often ask us what do we grow on our farm.  I have 
    a standard answer…”Flax”…followed by fragment of explanation…”for the movie  industry”

    Now that makes us,  Marjorie and  I, sound like big time farmers.  The truth is less exalted.
    Our flax  crop needed  a little high powered marketing before we reached the big time.
    Big time?  What a load of  hot air.

    We  grow about an acre of flax which fights for existence in a 
    field  full of  weeds.  Flax  is  tough and succeeds here and there.




    But to get rentals.  Yes, rentals…we rent our flax.  It is  not a consumable unless the mice
    get at it in the seed  ball stage.   Our flax never reaches  the seed ball stage.  We harvest it
    just after the beautiful tender blue or purple flower drop their petals.  Less  attractive to mice.   That is
    our little trade secret.  Do not copy.

    Harvesting about 100 bundles of flax.  Not a truckload.  Maybe two  wheelbarrow loads when its bound
    with binder twine and looped for hanging. Then the flax  is ready for the sales pitch.



    “What you  people need is a load of our flax to hang here and there
    in your movie…maybe a market scene or a murder scene.   Hanging
    flax can make things mysterious.  Your camera can  move on one side
    and presto … you have mystery.”

    “Let me  demonstrate”



    “There are 44 bundles  of flax now hanging in the workshop.  Our target each year is 100.  
    the rest is left for the field  mice or winter  birds.   We are generous farmers.”


    Please do not look closely at our harvest.  I would  prefer you not see the binder twine looping system.  Just look
    at the pretty blue or purple flax  flower.


    We diversify our crop rentals with a bunch of hanging tobacco.  The trouble with
    renting tobacco leaves is that some never comes  back.  I suspect the movie
    crews like to  roll your own .   Who cares?  Loss is just the cost of doing business.



    Now  suppose you want the aged effect.  Well we have a supply of  aged flax…brown.  
    Some of it is in the ball stage because we were too slow in harvesting.  That gives 
    the flax and even more mysterious appearance.


    “Our flax is hand harvested.  This dump rake is just a prop to make us look mechanized.”

    “Can you find the flax among the weeds?…look for the little balls”

    alan  skeoch
    August 2020

    p.s.  Do not call in the next couple of hours.  We will be in the back field
    hand harvesting and bundling.   

  • Note from Alan…ON MY 99TH EPISODE

    HI,
    SOME of you actually read these Episodes. Some of you do not because your lives are full or you think I am a jerk…or both.
    I just sent Episode 99.
    Why am I doing this? Several reasons but foremost is the fact that many of you are stuck in isolation and I felt these stories might break the boredom. Another thought is the stories might trigger your own memories and thereby make the tedium less onerous. Maybe you might even record moments in your lives that were memorable.
    Another reason is that I hoped my grandchildren might read them and see their grandfather and grandmother in a different light. Not sure they even read them sadly.
    alan august 2020
    P.S. I am not finished. The stories will keep coming.

  • EPISODE 99 LAST FLIGHT OUT ON A CRIPPLED BUSH PLANE



    EPISODE 99”  LAST FLIGHT OUT … ON A CRIPPLED BUSH PLANE

    alan skeoch
    August 2020




    EPISODE 99   LAST FLIGHT OUT ON A  CRIPPLED BUSH PLANE

    alan skeoch
    august 2020

    PILOT  “Listen boys, I do not like this little lake
    so do your work fast.  The water is going down
    and  landing will get difficult.”

    “Take less per load.”

    “Possible but soon there’ll not be enough water to land.”

    “These  are the last off our anomalies…we will work fast.
    Come back for us in three days.:  (I do not remember this time line exactly)


    The summer of 1964 was hot.  To many that means heightened fire  danger which was
    true.  We had a no fire rule for much of the summer. But the real danger was the slow but
    steady evaporation of water from the lakes.  A lot of water
    was gone between June and September.  That fact is apparent in the photograph of
    our fly camp (Episode 97).  Looks like the water has gone down five  feet or more.

    Flight pontoon landings that were easy and safe in June became difficult and dangerous
    in September.

    This picture was  taken  in mid August.  Take a  look at the high  water mark on the shore.  Seems water had  gone  down about
    four or five feet by then.  On  our last job the water level had dropped more.  Very dangerous for water landings and takeoffs as
    we discovered.

    It was our last job. 
    we Were  finished. The crew had returned to Paradise Lodge to pack up.
    Marjorie had caught the ACR to Sault Ste Marie.  “Meet you at
    the airport, Marjorie…maybe around noon.”   My part of the job  was finished.  I had to be
    back in school by the end of the Labour Day Week  End.    

    The plan was neat.  We had finished work on an anomaly close to a small lake
    south of our Wart Lake camp.  All that was left was a pile of gear….tents, cooking
    goods, some wire frame cots, axes,shovels.,Coleman  stoves, fuel, etc.  I don’t really remember what was
    in the pile of goods.   Maybe 200  to 300 pounds  of
    euipment.  



    “I don’t like this lake…too shallow,” said the pilot when he dropped us a few days earlier.

    “And it will get worse.”

    We did the job as fast as we could and had arranged a pick up.  Don’t remember much about the first flight
      but I do  know I was  feeling quite nostalgic.  This would be the last bush job of m life.  I knew that
    and wanted to savour my exit alone. Crew out first.  The flight went
    well although the distance from touchdown to the end of the lake was short.  

    That was not the problem.  I did  not expect a  problem for I was  wrapped in
    my memories of so  many bush  planes on so many lakes.  Mostly Beavers but a  few
    Cessnas and one Seabee which was just a visitor being dropped off.  “Those 
    Seabees are really dangerous.  Motor at the rear.  Pushing.  If the motor quits the
    goddamn thing drops like a rock.  No ability to glide.   Cessnas  glide best.”

    The Cessna 170 came in  at tree top level.  Had  to.  Landing strip of water was short 
    as evaporation created shallows where  once  there was two or three feet of water.

    The pilot cut power early and  the plane settled  down  harder than usual.  Bigger chevron 
    of water.  And something different.  Slightly lopsided.  The plane turned  and  idled
    its way to our landing site.  Slight slant.  Odd.

    “Hit a fucking deadhead.  Ripped the pontoon…goddamnit.”

    Submerged  objects terrified bush pilots.  Often they took a run at landing
    then circled.  Looking for objects.  Like dead heads…old submerged logs or
    trees  sometimes angled upwards.

    “I’m going to pump out the water while you load.  Could be tricky.  Put 
    load  as far forward  as you can…need the weight for extra  lift.”

    Took no time at all.  Ignition. And we worked our way to best takeoff  position
    and he gave it full power.  We flumed our way down the lake with an increasing
    slant as the pontoon filled with water.   Fast but not fast enough.  The far shore 
    and  tree line got closer and  closer.  “Can’t make it!” and the pilot cut power and  the plane settled.  Slightly off centre.  And close
    to shore.  Too close.

    “Dump the load on the beach.  We’ll try  once more but empty.  Got to get off
    this fucking lake. “  He cursed and  pumped out the pontoon water.

    “There.  Let’s give it another try.”

    He taxied down as far as he could without getting tangled in weeds.  Then
    we were moving.  The pontoon filled with water as we went full throttle
    down the lake.  Far shore became the near shore.  No lift yet.

    “Move your body  forward…gut more lift.”

    Then we had liftoff.  To me it seemed  just in time.  Seemed we were
    just skirting the swamp and  maybe touching tree tops  Not true of
    course.  Imagination played.

    The rest of the flight was easy.  In an hour we had landed at Sault Ste
    Marie where Marjorie was supposed to be waiting.  I had said noon but
    we were late, very late. She was not there.
    Her turquoise VW beetle  was in the parking lot but no sign of 
    Marjorie.

    Then she walked into the holding lounge from the aircraft side.

    “I pretended to be  sick.”


    “A man offered me a tour of the city from his plane.  I did  not
    know he was just a pilot in training.  Scared me near to death.
    Only way we got back on the ground  fast was I pretended  to
    be about to vomit”

    And so  it ended.   Our days of mining exploration were over.  They
    ended with a bang.

    alan  skeoch
    August 2020

    P.S.  I know this sounds hard to believe.  Writing from memory
    can result in exaggeration.  So here are the simple facts
    of that last flight.

    1) Water levels had  fallen dramatically (see picture)
    2) Pilot did hit something and punctured one pontoon.
    3) I  watched him pump out the pontoon
    4) We failed to get liftoff on our first attempt and jettisoned
    the cargo on the beach.
    5) Second attempt was just barely successful and I remember
    the pilot asking me to lean forward.
    6) Our baggage?   Do  not know what happened.
    7) Marjorie did take a joy ride that scared her enough to feign vomit
    8) This  was  not my final job.  The next summer we flew to Merritt
    B.C. on a short seismic job.  But this Paradise Lodge job was
    my last bush  job.















  • EPISODE 98 FOOD…good and bad, AILMENTS, VIOLENCE and ISN’T THAT FUNNY…AN OVERVIEW




    EPISODE 98     FOOD…good and bad, AILMENTS, VIOLENCE, and ISN’T THAT FUNY…AN OVERVIEW  


    alan skeoch
    August 2020

    This was the Dawson City, General Store in the Yukon as it appeared
    in 1961.   
    The building was slowly sinking into the permafrost each year.   This picture has nothing to do with the story that follows.  My job
    for ten summers was as unique as the  Dawson City hardware store.  

    FOOD FOLLOWS…GOOD AND BAD
    THEN AILMENTS…FROM TOOTHACHE TO PILES TO AXE ERRORS

    THEN  VIOLENCE…VERY LITTLE

    THEN  “ISN’T THAT FUNNY?”…

    Dinner at our fly camp in summer of 1964.   After the supper of wormy stew we went 
    back  to the good  staple food  of  pork and beans.  That is  Bob Bartlett
    pouring condensed  milk onto something and beside him is Serge Lavoie.  

    This captures what life  is like in he bush…cooking over an open fire. Very rough and unpleasant. in this case
     the fire  is much too large but it was  made in the pouring rain when we  took a lunch 
    time  break…and tried to dry our socks.  Fires were always carefully extinguished.  Never once do I remember a fire
    causing damage.   One Question?  Where would you sit here?  Careful, you could
    easily get piles.  Yukon Territory job. 1961.

    alan skeoch’
    August 2020

    Many of our jobs had camp cooks, sometimes we ate in diners.   But a  lot of
    the jobs were bush jobs where we were our own  cooks.

    WHAT WAS GOOD  FOOD?


    Cooking.  Essential was bacon…needed to grease the pan for both French Toast
    and  Pancakes, both of which we ate often in various forms.  Note the blazing
    axes  in the background.  A  special light axe for marking trails.


    1) French Toast was great for breakfast as long as the eggs lasted.   Rotten eggs
    made poor French Toast but that never happened.   The nose was  key to freshness.
    French Toast had an added plus factor.  Slabs could be eaten cold at lunch sitting
    on a dry log.   Two meals.  Even three if there were some leftovers for supper.
    2) Peanut butter…could  be slathered  on cold French toast.  Or on anything.  Peanut 
    butter could  be eaten with a spoon right from the can or bottle.  No wash  up
    needed.  A perfect food.  And if  too many field  mice found our cook tent then
    peanut butter on a Victor snap  trap solved the problem.  Red squirrels needed 
    a rat trap but were also suckers for peanut butter.  Rarely used though.  There was
    no trap big enough for black bears with whom we shared food a few times.

    3)  Rolled oats cooked fast for breakfast with brown sugar and
    canned or powdered milk.  Then the leftover porridge would cool and form a 
    gelatinous  slab for lunch.  The slab could be rolled with marmalade or
    peanut butter in between.  Scrumptious .   Many many lunches of such 
    make my mouth water even today. wrapped in wax paper which served the
    double function of starting the lunch time fire for our Billy cans of tea.

    4) Salami or Polish sausage.  Both kept well.  The flies preferred to lay
    their eggs in the slabs of sowbelly…bacon slabs…rather than the salami
    or Polish sausage.  Why?  I am not sure but suspect the latter were loaded
    with preservatives that the flies sensed  but we did not.

    5) Pork and Beans.  A camp favourite even though the cans  were often
    too heavy to pack if we were not returning to base camps for a  day
    or two.  Throw in a  slab of butter and more salt and  pepper.  Smell
    was terrific.  Dining like kings and queens.  There were side  effects, of  course,,
    but the side effects were very healthy  Nothing worse than constipation.
    Or, as we called that affliction, “the screaming shits”.

    5) Cookies…lots of them.  Usually Peak  Frean shortbreads of  various  shapes.
    But I remember large boxes of David’s cookies on the Quebec job.  I mean large
    …about the size of a small suitcase.  That company made lots of sweet things
    with marshmallow fillings.  We never put limits on consumption that I remember.

    6) Food for fast consumption.   On deep bush  jobs where food service was by
    bush plane at irregular intervals we would order some fresh  food…like fruit.  Maybe
    a watermelon to eat right away or a six quart basket of peaches.  Oranges were
    best since they kept well.  Sometimes we might even try a pie or cake…again
    for fast consumption the arrival day.  Gorge and starve.

    7) Drinks.  You might think we would order several cases of ginger ale or Coca cola
    but that did not happen.  Lots of  tea bags and ground coffee.  Hot chocolate made
    with powdered milk was  drinkable but barely so.   Fresh milk was a luxury item.
    Alcohol was never on site which I find strange on reflections because we always
    celebrated the end of a job with a beer or double O.P. (Yukon job).

    WE  never had alcohol on the job.   After a job, however, we celebrated.  This is my favourite picture  of celebration 
    in Ireland in 1960.  Most of these men were our employees and they all enjoyed a pint  of Guinness as did we.


    8) Bread.  Useful whether fresh or stale.  Old bread got rather crusty but could 
    be softened  in the form of French toast as mentioned above.  Mouldy bread
    was garbage but sometimes the mould was  spotty and  could be cut out.
    Sliced bread got mouldy in the first four or five slices…deep in the loaf sometimes
    a  good slice was found.

    9) Canned Prunes.  The  two terrors we wanted to avoid were Constipation and
    Diarrhea.  Bot are debilitating.  Constipation seemed the most common hence
    the canned  prunes.

    10)  Pasta…lots of it in the form of Kraft Dinners, and a few attempts at
     spaghetti with canned sauce…no fancy pastas however like
    Lasagna…too hard to make.   Kraft dinner best.

    Mrs.  Kennedy was the dominating person in Bonmahon. Ireland job.   She also saw that we ate well.  No rough food like we
    had in our wilderness camps.


    11)  Mrs. Kennedy, on the Irish job, made my lunch sandwiches filled
    with Lobster.  A delicacy.  But I had never eaten lobster and carefully
    asked her,  “Could you make peanut butter sandwiches?”  She had
    never heard of  peanut butter sandwiches   Both are good.

    WHAT WAS  BAD FOOD?

    1) Wieners.  I expect readers would find this wiener aversion surprising  because
    they are fast food items.  Hot dogs…super easy  The problem was that with time
    our wieners exuded a white bluish  substance…preservatives I think.  On he
    Groundhog River job I remember picking up a wiener with one finger…the bluish
    stuff stuck to the finger tip.  Did we eat them anyway?  Not sure.  We ate a lot
    things that were disgusting.

    2) Sowbelly.  Again I remember the Groundhog River job where the blow flies
    laid  eggs  in our slabs of bacon (really  sowbelly).   Cutting off the contaminated
    end was part of the ritual of breakfast.

    3)  Canned  meats.  Edible but not pleasant.  We referred  to all cans
    of preserved meat as cans of Clap.

    4)  Doughnuts.  great when fresh but very soon turned into life preserver rings
    as hard a  bullets.  Of course they could be  dipped in tea.

    6)  Fresh fruit like grapes,  peaches, pears, cherries, melons.  Wonderfull
    when the airplane  arrived but very soon rotten or fly infested.   We gorged.  
    Then chucked the rotten remainder in the latrine.  There were 
    wild berries however.   I was never sure which of the wild berries were
    edible and which were not.  Walter Helstein ate them all so he became our
    berry tester.   Blueberries were easy to get as were swamp apples (orange, large)
    but they were super sweet to an extreme.   Walter ate lots of red berries
    that seemed inedible to me. (Groundhog River job)

    7) Some dehydrated  packages turned  out to be wormy as mentioned in Episode
    97 but that was not true of all dehydrated food.

    8) Chocolates….in candy form or bar form.  Fear of toothache from cavities
    made  all forms of chocolate suspect.  But we  always ordered a couple
    of cases of  chocolate bars.  When  we got a toothache we just had
    to tough it out.  No dentists in the bush.   That applied to any  ailment.  

    9) Moose meat:  Marjorie was  given a slab of  moose meat to
    cook for the fellows on a short camping venture to Wart Lake.  There
    was no way that the moosemeat could  be made edible using 
    normal cooking skills.  Tough as  leather no matter what was done.


    WHAT AILMENTS DID WE FACE?

    1) My worst ailment had nothing to do with food.  It was my feet.  The constant
    rubbing of my boots against the undergrowth soon wore through to my 
    feet.  Water seeped in and got warmed up by my body  temperature so that
    my feet were cooking.  By the end of some bush jobs my feet were as
    pock marked  as the fields  of France in  World  War I.  Flesh could be peeled.

    2)   On bush jobs in the Yukon, Alaska, Northern Ontario
    we  always  carried  a  hand  made billy can…a coffee can with a wire loop
    for making tea.   Usually using tea  bags.  It was possible however to make
    Labrador tea  from a common shrub with canoe like leaf shape with fuzzy
    underbelly.   Making tea was easy.  Could  be done anywhere with a small
    fire.  Sitting was the problem.  The undergrowth was often spongy with wet
    mosses of all kinds.  Sitting on the moss  was like sitting on a pillow…a
    wet pillow.  We looked for dry dead logs instead.  Sitting on wet moss
    day after day was crazy.  Piles!   Anyone who has  had  piles  knows
    the discomfort.  We sure did and looked for windfall strewn forest
    floor where there were logs to sit on.

    3)  Tooth ache…terrible thing.  Constant pain.  happened occasionally.
    Nothing we could do other than tough it out.  I seem to remember suggesting
    we tie a string to a tooth and the other end to the Yukon cabin door.  Slam the 
    door and  out comes the tooth.  Only time I remember that working was
    with my brother way back in the years when he trusted my ideas.

    4)  Food poisoning.  I got that on the Cochrane job from eating rotten
    balogna.  I could not work and spent a couple of days in my sleeping
    bag wondering if I was going to die  Everyone else went to work. My 
    only visitor was a big black  bear who arrived when all others were gone.
    No problem.  he or she was just sniffing around the cook  shack where
    some scraps must have been available.

    5)  Serious cuts with axes.  Using a blazing axe requires a little skill.
    Alway  put blazes on sold trees.   Never try to blaze a leafy branch.  Why not?
    Because branches are elastic.  Hit a branch and it bounces  back.
    Along with the bounce back  comes your blazing axle.  I  remember a particularly
    difficult fellow would just would not learn.  Sliced himself badly with his blazing axe
    and had to be taken out on a emergency  flight.  No  loss.  He was just
    too much trouble to have around. Lazy.  Looking for the easy way. Accident 
    prone.

    6)  Falling.  So  easy to do and a fall could  have serious conseqences
    as happened to Walter Helstein when  he fell on a sharpened picket which
    pierced his hand and was subsequently infected because we couldn’t get
    a plane to pit him up because the weather turned stormy.

    We warned Walter not step on fallen tree trunks.  Never step  on a fallen log…to do so was to 
    possibly slip and fall headlong into whatever was on the other side. Step over. In Walter’s case sharpened
    pickets like the Viet Cong used in the Viet Nam war were low to the ground on the other side.
    Freshly cut by lone cutters.  Lethal.  Easy  to
    get hurt.  Walter was  too old for the job  Perhaps sixty.  He  couldn’t step  over logs.
    The end result was tragic (as mentioned in earlier episode), poor Walter lay in the tent for days
    moaning as  infection spread.  When float plane could  finally land, Walter was in very bad
    shape and spent a long time in hospital recovering…months.  All  from a single misstep pmtp
    a moss covered windfall.  We never saw Walter again.  Missed him.

    WAS VIOLENCE COMMON?

    Nerves get frayed on tough bush jobs where two  or three men have to live together
    under poor conditions.  Tension develops over small things. ‘ Who ate all the chocolate bars?
    My pack frame load is heavier than yours, you bastard.   Let’s rotate he lead job when blazing  
    trail.  You jerk, your goddamn belt buckle has made the compass wrong.’

    It is  very easy to get on someone’s nerves even in the best OF jobs.  On a bush  job
    tensions occur fast.  How  are they best handled?   Here  I turn to Floyd Faulkner
    again (Groundhog River job…3 months together on a ground crew .searching for anomalies found
    by an airborne crew)   Even if compass bearings were correct we sometimes made 
    errors.  One time, however, was really bad.  “Al, you take the lead with the compass,
    we’ll do the blazing.”  Big mistake.  My  Boy Scout belt buckle was big and  bronze.  it 
    deflected the compass.  We were hopelessly  lost by the time that error was discovered.
    Floyd’s reaction was laughter.  We faced hours of labour retracing our steps, correlating
    our position with the aerial  photographs.  I was 17 years old  and threw a hissy  fit…began
    thrashing at the jungle undergrowth and  yelling like a  stuck pig. “Goddamn bastardly bush”
     Floyd thought that was even funnier.
    From that incident I got the nickname “Fucking Al” which was  a term of endearment.
    Another incident on the same job made me look like a fool.  We had to pack  our fly camp
    out to the Groundhog River from some distance east…miles.  There had  been big storm
    and  the tents and fly sheets were wet and terribly heavy.  A real bitch.   “Bob, my load
    is way heavier than  yours.”  “OK,  Al. we’ll switch loads.”  Another stupid incident.
    Bob had  the big wet tent.  It was so heavy that by the  time I reached the Groundhog
    River, my packframe was bent into a curved piece  of useless junk.  Bob and Floyd
    were  amused.   Make me look like a fool, right?  

    All the years I worked for Dr. Paterson there were no fights.  Quite amazing because 
    the job was very tough and the communities were sometimes not prone to
    lovable relationships.  But no violence.  On one occasion Dr. Paterson was amused…
    no, incredulous..when  the
    Alaskan branch of  Humble  Oil armed us all with heavy duty rifles. Our company
    never gave us weapons for fear we would  shoot each other.  True. 
    No need. 
    Really, we had  a good  time together nearly all the time.  That was why
    I loved the job so much.

    ONE CASE OF VIOLENCE IN TEN YEARS

    One summer I took a  survey job with the Ontario Department of Highways building 
    Highway 17 across Northern Ontario.  We were based  in a trailer camp outside
     the village of Hunta.  Eight of us about 18years old. .    An age when stupid
    things happen.  One of our crew was ‘disturbed’…really a bit wacko.  John (no
    last name  used here) just did not fit in.  He could not fit in anywhere.  There was
    something  seriously wrong with him.   It took a while to surface but when he snapped
    we were lucky that no one died.   Some  of the boys picked on John as teen  agers
    are prone to do.  Like a big Boy Scout,  I took John on my survey crew and got along
    OK … not terrific but OK.  At least until one day when I
    signalled  John to move to the right or left just to keep our line straight as we could
    John turned … looked at me….and threw his blazing axe  at me.  Missed by a foot
    or two.  But there was  no reason for the sudden  anger.  I was least likely to make
    fun of him.   Privately I told  the crew foreman who was reaching a point where he
    realized  John was  a problem.  

    That night John did something I can never forget.  We were all asleep  or
    dozing in the trailer.   The night was black,  Suddenly there was a loud crash
    at one of the bunks.   John had got up silently.  Holding a large granite boulder
    high above one of the guys who had teased him… a Finlander from
    Thunder Bay as  I remember.  Then John dropped or threw the rcck  down hard.
    The rock  smashed  a big gallon water can  beside the Fin’s head.   Crushed completely.
    We got the lights on.  By then John was back in his bunk.  just lay there while
    the rest of us  clustered around the water jug.  He was silent.  He did not move.
    He must have done it.  Had he intended to
    kill or just to warn?  We were never sure.  The next day officials arrived to take
    John away.  We never saw or heard from him again.

    That was the only violent act that got close to me in ten years of exploration.

    FUNNY THINGS HAPPENED ON EACH  JOB.

    Humour is a tricky thing to present.  Incidents that I consider funny may
    seem  insensitive and crude.  Like the time that Bill and  I were sitting
    in a bar in Dawson City.  We had camped  outside the town on an old 
    sourdough claim site.  Needed  a  beer badly after a tough night and day.
    We were really just kids pretending to be men.  Beside us on the floor
    of the bar two very large people…one male and one female…had decided
    to copulate.  They were having  difficulty with their clothes because both 
    were dead drunk.  Bill and I kept our cool and pretended the behaviour
    on the floor was  normal.  the bar tender came around  the bar and began
    rolling the amorous couple towards the door.  I seem to remember the 
    rolling but no sure how he got them out the door.  They took a lot of door 
    space.  Later Bill and I laughed and laughed.  You  may not consider
    that funny.

    Bill and I worked  damn hard on that Yukon job.  We deserved s week end break in Dawson City.  Here Bill is
    plotting our data.  Sadly his Dad died in the middle of that summer and he had  a rush flight home.

    On another occasion our contractor, a mining speculator called Dr. Aho
    from  BC, had the habit of buying newcomers to the Yukon  ‘Double op’s”
    at the Mayo Landing  hotel.  “Here boys  have a Double OP”  What 
    is a Double OP?   It is a liquid explosive.  Rum and Whisky sent 
    to the Yukon was double regular proof…i.e.  damn close to pure
    alcohol.  Multiply that times twice and  you will understand what happened
    after only one of these was consumed.  Dr. Aho thought that was funny.
    I  agreed after we had been  around Mayo Landing for some time.  Lots
    of heavy drinking.  Even our pilot Bob was drunk much of the time.
    Isn’t that funny?    

    Then there was the time we sent Joe Fortin to  Chibougamau in1958 to 
    get us food.  He flew out.   Then at  dusk  he flew back. Just getting
    out of the Beaver was a chore.  He fell into the water from the pontoon.
    Joe was dead drunk.  He spent his time and our money at the
    Chibougamau Inn.  Forgot to get us food.  Isn’t that funny?

    Bill Gilbey in bed on the Marathon job


    Then there  was Bill Gilbey (Gilbey’s Gin family) on the Marathon job
    thumbing his way through the women’s lingerie section of Eaton’s catalogue
    saying “We are a pathetic  bunch relying on Eaton’s catalogue for our pornography.”
    Isn’t that funny?


    Then  you will remember the BC job at Merritt where the mine 
    manager and geologist mistook Marjorie for a  Vancouver hooker
    that I had hired as company at night.  This picture is not the motel
    room bed but gives the right impression all the same. Isn’t that funny?

    Then there was our flight from Anchorage, Alaska, to Seattle with a lot of American
    military brass flying out of Tokyo.  Our regular flight had been cancelled due to
    crippled landing gear.  The US officers were a stiff bunch. None
    of them drank.  So the stewardess gave us her full attention. Free
    drinks.  When  we sobered  up in a Seattle  Hotel we were all 
    wearing Japanese kimonos.  Isn’t that funny?

    Then there was Pete in the Yukon, lying in bed each night 
    reading the Bible.  He could quote chapter and verse by heart.
    I wondered.  “Pete, you must be really religious?”
    “Not so at all.  I read the bible just to get into arguments..really
    I am an atheist.   Isn’t that funny?


    Then  there is our helicopter pilot on the Alaskan job awakening
    us on the camp PA with his charming “Let’s get Fucking Airborne”
    Or the camp cook explaining the finer points of  eating moose heart.
    Isn’t that funny?


    Then there is Barney Dwan warning me to be careful crossing Irish farm
    fields.  “There was a nun who took a short cut and  all that was ever 
    found were her boots with her feet in them.”  (Hogs got her)
    Isn’t that funny?

    Then there were all those lonely hearts club letters I received on
    the Groundhog River job.  Dozens of young (and  older0 women hoping
    I would marry them or at least help  them out of poverty.  Those letters
    came when my friends  Russ and Jim  enrolled me in the club.
    Isn’t that funny?

    Obviously, a lot of these stories are not funny at all.  Unless you 
    are 17 or 18 years old enjoying the full panorama of life.

    alan skeoch
    August 2020

    Next EPISODE 99…LAST FLIGHT OUT ON A CRIPPLED  BUSH PLANE