EPISODE 695 MY FAREWELL TO MINING — MEMORIES OF THE ALGOMA CENTRAL RAILWAYalan skeochDecember 12, 2022Marjorie arriving at Paradise Lodge, a flag stop on the Algoma Central Ralway.in 1964
The conductor is helping Marjorie unload her sewing machine, her luggage and a
cage with our cat Presque Neige. There is noting here….no station.
MINING DAYS WERE NOT OVER
But my miningdays were not over. Dr. Paterson sent me to Paradise Lodge in the summerof 1964, a wilderness job that depended upon flagging down the AlgomaCentralRailway out of Sault Ste.Marie en route to Hearst. A ghost railway line.
Marjorie joined our bush crew. She arrived with her sewing machine and our cat,Presque Neige, much the amusement of the fellows. No electricity forthe sewing machine and wolves howling to get at the cat.
Not sure if Imentoned Marjorie would join the crew to my boss, Dr. Norman Paterson,? Not sure about that.
I paid her transportation. No salary but free accommodation and meals. Marjorie
did some of the cooking and made the camp seem like a home away from home
for the crew. Take Serge Lavoie for instance. He swam in the nude before Marjorie’s
arrival so she made him a hand sewed bathing suit. And her voice joined with Bob Bartlet’s
around our campfire evenings. Bob had his guitar and a long list of the current folk
songs of the 1960’s of which Four ‘Strong Winds’ dominated. This geophysical
survey seemed more like a summer camp than a wilderness ordeal.
Every time I hear The Sound of Silence sung by Simon and Garfunkel I remember
Bob Bartlet leading us in song. Especially the first verse. “Hello darkness, my old
friend…”
The crew were younger than I was…the sixties generation.
,,,not too anxious to live rough, sleeping on
the ground when our anomalies were too distant from the
civilized life at Paradise Lodge. We used a Cessna
170 to set up a fly camp several miles west of the ACR. Landed
there just before night fell. Then in the dark we cooked supper.
(Bob Bartlett, Serge Lavoie on left)
“Special treat to night … I was able to buy dried dinners…all we need
is water to make a big beef stew. No more canned food, we can travel
light with this freeze dried stuff. Just hang the pot over the fire and in
a few minutes we’ll have beef stew.”
Well this was a case of good news and bad news. The good news was that
we all had lots of beef stew. The bad news was discovered in the light of
the next morning. The remainder of the stew was in the pot…along with a host
of tiny cooked worms. The dried beef stew was full of maggots. My leadership
suffered a bit as a result. There was an upside. No one got sick.
“Alan just what do you do each day in the bush?”
“Why don’t you come along today, Have to renew some claim tags.”
That led to two memories I will never forget. I hope no one
will get offended and accuse me of sexism.
Paradise Lodge is located
near he ACR tracks on one side and network of lakes on the other.
“We can get close to the blazed trail using thereat and outboard motor. Bring some
lunch and hop in.”
And away we went. A beautiful day. Full sunshine above and cool water
below.
“We’l pull into that little island and go for a swim.”
“No bathing suits, Alan.”
“Who is there to care…strip down and dive in.”
What a delightful dip that was. Even managed to catch a photo of Marjorie
getting ready … semi-clothed. She looked terrific and this is one of my special
photographs. A keeper.
That was a day to remember forever…long term storage in my brain and it was
not just the nude swimming with my wife. We beached the boat where the blazed trail
began and hiked deep into the forest for a couple of miles. Our future base line
for the magnetic survey.
We stopped at the claim post, Marjorie looked around.
“What are those scars on that tree?”
“That’s where a bear sharpened its claws or a moose rubbed the velvet off his
antlers.”
“Oh…OH! Let’s get out of here now.”
“No danger as long as you make lots of noise. Wild animals try to
avoid humans…” (I was tempted to say ‘unless they are hungry”. I held
my tongue.)
Serge Lavoie and I had a close call
that I will never understand. We finished Magnetometer work on a small
anomaly a few miles south of our camp when a sudden summer storm swept through
the bush. High velocity wind. Strong enough to blow over a patch of cedars
and strip leaves off deciduous trees.
“Let’s get the hell out of here fast.”
“We can get to the ACR track in a mile or so…late
afternoon train northbound. “
We ran like broken field runners on a football field. But we
did not get far before strange thing happened. Something I will
never understand. In the flash of an instant we were both flung to the
ground. Knocked out. For how long? No idea, perhaps a few seconds,
perhaps minutes. When we came to, we were a bit stunned. The mag which
I was carrying was hung on a bunch of tag alders. Maybe tenor fifteen feet
from where we lay. The wind was cyclonic…blew in circle it seemed.
Did a flash lightning hit the ground near us? Were we nearly struck by lightning. I seem to remember clumps
of cedars uprooted at an angle. Shallow roots, easy to upset.
“What happened?”
“Lightning?”
“Cyclonic storm.”
“Grab the mag and let’s get out of here.”
“Still time to flag down the ACR.”
The train was intercepted. Flagged down and we flopped into
t;he open doors of a baggage car and rode north to Paradise Lodge.
I am not sure what happened to us that day. If I was alone no one
would believe me. But the same thing happened to Serge. It was
our own little adventure. Wonder if he remembers? Wonder if Serge
is stil alive. If so, he will be 80.
The final adventure on that job could have been catastrophic.
Our final anomaly was near a small lake southeast of Paradise Lodge.
When we flew in the pilot cautioned us.
“Thi lake is small and getting smaller in summer heat. Little rain.. Landing could
be difficult if we wait too long. The survey went well and the crew
was taken out first. The last load included our camp gear and tent…and me.
Seemed OK as the Cessna set down. Great flume of water at the shallow end
then a dead head log ripped a hole in one pontoon. Small hole but big enough
to pick up water on takeoff. The exact particulars are a little misty but bottom
line was we abandoned our gear to lighten the load which basically included the
pilot and ,me. Our first attempt was a failure as the ripped pontoon picked
up too much water.
“Lean forward as far as you can … get your weight to balance the load…picking
up too much water.”
“Got to cut power or go up on shore.”
Been a long time since that failed takeoff. Not crystal clear. Pilot pumped
the water out of the dmaed pontoon. Then lightened the load even more
for the final run. We ferried as far down the lake as possible and hoped a light
headwind would help lift us up.
He got us moving. Applied full power and we bobbed our way down the lake.
And lifted off. I wish my memory was better . Did it happen as described or have
I over dramatized the flight? The ripped pontoon is confirmed in my diary. The terror
of the takeoff is not. Once in the air we headed for the airport at Sault Ste. Marie
Marjorie had come out by train with some of the crew. She took our car to the
airport and waited for me. Waited and waited.
“How would you like to join me?” asked a young man who had just learned to fly solo.
“Dangerous?”
“No, I have my licence and just want to build up a few hours in the air…circling around
the airport mostly. Take offs and landings. Really fun.”
“My husband is due here shortly.”
“Flying could relieve the boredom of waiting…but suit yourself.”
“OK, I’ll do it…may even see Alan coming in.”
Mistake. Big time mistake. I was upset when Marjorie told me about
joy riding over Sault lSte Marie. She was not too happy about it either.
“He wanted to show me what he could do…flew in big circles …tilted lots…then accelerated up and
drifted down. I got scared and wanted to land. Yelled ‘I’m going to be sick …going to throw uo”
which got me back on the tarmack.
The summer of 1964 was over.
alan
post script
FORGOTTEN RAILROADS LIKE ACR
Arlo Guthjrie singing CITY OF NEW ORLEANS
written by Steve Goodman
Riding on the City of New OrleansIllinois Central, Monday morning railFifteen cars and fifteen restless ridersThree conductors and twenty-five sacks of mailAll along the southbound odysseyThe train pulls out at KankakeeRolls along past houses, farms and fieldsPassin’ trains that have no nameFreight yards full of old black menAnd the graveyards of the rusted automobiles
Good morning America, how are you?Say, don’t you know me? I’m your native sonI’m the train they call the City of New OrleansI’ll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done
Stompin Tom Connors wrote a song about the
Algoma Central Railway.
Lyrics
She’s on a bar hoppin spree back in Sault Ste. Marie, |Because of me she’s now fallen star.|She could have been true, but I left her in the Soo, |& I travelled north upon the ACR|Chorus:|But if it’s go home or be a roamer I’ve made up my mind|So take me home tonight Algoma Central 69||I was workin one day when I heard this fella say |he met my girl while drinkin at the bar|Though we fought between us two, still he swore that it was true-|Now I curse that day I rode the ACR|Chorus: But if it’s go home or be a roamer, I’ve made up my mind..|Solo||Though it might be in vain, here I wait for the train, |I hope it’s not too late to right the wrong|When she rolls around the bend, we’ll be southbound again, |C’mon old ACR wheels move along.||First Verse:|She’s on a bar hoppin spree, back in S. S. Marie, |Because of me she’s now a fallen star|She could have been true, but I left her in the Soo, |& I travelled north upon the A.C.R.-|Chorus:|Repeat second line.|
The old Catholic church at Searchmont on the Algoma Central Railway
What is the ACR like today in 2022?
Abandoned except for a tourists train to the Agawa Canyon. Ten
that train could be cancelled and the track pulled up.
al along the ralway line are tiny abandoned villages.
Good news. A reader of these stories phoned me a monht or so ago
wanting more info on Paradise Lodge. It still exists for fishermen and
hunters who want a wilderness experience. I think he said there is a bush
track that reaches the Lodge.
