Alan Skeoch

Year: 2020

  • EPISODE 59 SCARED…REALLY SCARED…AND ONLY MYSELF TO BLAME (ALASKA, 1959)

    EPISODE 59    SCARED…REALLY SCARED…AND ONLY MYSELF TO BLAME


    alan skeoch
    June 4, 3030

    I have  done  my share  of stupid things so far but one
    of the worst was on the prospecting job on the tundra of  western Alaska
    in the summer of 1959.

    We  had a day with not much to do for some reason or other.
    Our camp consisted of a line of dark tents, a cook shack, and
    two S52 (Sikorsky) helicopters.  We had lots of  daylight…sun
    never really got far below the horizon.   We were a hundred of so
    miles  inland from the Bering Sea…even more distant
    was the Aleutian Island chain where the Japanese had faked an
    invasion  of North America.   This remans an empty land.  Startling.
    Fascinating.

    This  is  Alaska…flat tundra for hundreds of miles, but occasionally cut by river and  creek valleys which you can see in the distance.
    Thousands and thousands of years ago when the climate was colder, great hulking Mastodons and even larger  Mammoths   lumbered
    across the land bridge that is now the Bering Sea because the seas were lower around the world and the ice caps of the globe
    were larger.  It was thoughts like this that drew me to the tundra.  Historic.  No, Prehistoric.

    TUNDRA

    Tundra as far as the eye could see in any direction.  Very hard to get
    lost I reasoned even if 30 miles or more away from camp.
    So I grabbed A good book…I think it was Steinbeck’s East 
    of Eden.  Then waited for the lead pilot to greet us like
    he did every morning with his cheerful “Let’s Get Fucking Airborne”

    One helicopter began the slow  “Whomp…Whomp…Whomp”
    Then got up to speed.

    “Can you drop me out on the tundra?”
    “Sure…no equipment , how come?”
    “Not needed today.”

    I jumped in over the pontoon and we were airborne heading
    north west.  Eventually the S52 would swing due west towards
    the Bering Sea where we had a fuel drop.  Forty Five gallon drums
    of Diesel.

    It was a beaUtiful day around  mid-August.  The bugs were not nearly
    as bad by then because  the birds had been feasting for months on the
    little bastards.  So many birds nested in the tundra that we had to be
    careful walking.

    “Drop me here’” About 20 or 25 miles from camp.   It would  be
    very hard to get lost since we could see great distances on the flat
    treeless tundra.

    My plan was simple.  I would find a nice folded slope on the tundra and tuck
    myself into a depression…out of the wind…then spend a couple of hours
    reading Steinbeck before walking back to camp.  That would take  a full
    day…and  be delightful.   The Humble Oil Company of Texas to whom we
    were subcontracted had armed us with big 30-06 rifles but we never felt
    the need to carry a rifle on the open tundra so we stacked the rifles at
    the helcopter drop sites.   This day I did  not even take the rifle. Too damn
    heavy.

    All worked  out quite well for an hour or two.  Then I got a bit worried. Suppose
    a Kodiak bear did  happen to be crossing this great expanse of flat land.
    It would get my smell I supposed and maybe want to check me out.  What the hell
    could I do?   Climb a tree?  That’s a laugh.  

    The only trees were down in the creek and river valleys that criss crossed the vast
    flatness of the tundra.    Those valleys and creek bottoms were Kodiak country because
    they had easy access to thousands  of big salmon heading up river to spawn.  And there
    were lots of dead salmon floating down.  Up top on the tundra I felt safe.   Safe?  Felt
    safe until I realized I was  all alone.  Alone!  No one even knew I was out here.  I had
    walked miles  from the drop site.  I was alone.

    That’s my partner Bill Morrisson, doing some fishing down in a creek bottom near our camp.  These deep incisions in the
    tundra are where the Kodiak bears feast on salmon.  Around camp we were safe as there were so many guns.  Thirty men armed with 
    rifles and pistols.  Disgusting.  In Canada, geophysical prospectors like us never carried  weapons. “Why are we not armed?”, I asked
    on one  job.  “No guns for good reason…so we cannot shoot each other”.  In ten years prospecting this  was the only job
    where there were guns.   




    I had  been told  that the bears stay away from humans because we smell bad.
    Hope that was true.  Must be true.  No bath for weeks except occasional dip
    in tundra meltwater pools.

    Then my mind shifted from Steinbeck to Kodiak bears   When alone, the mind
    plays tricks…fears grow.  I decided
    it might be best to start the journey back to camp which  was miles
    away but visible.

    The two big Sikorskys seemed busy for I could see them flying back
    and forth far in the distance.   One even flew near me but I would be invisible
    in my military bush  clothing.  And I did  not want to bother them.

    To get back to camp I had to cross a couple of small creeks that were cut
    into the tundra but no big river.   There was  some brush which made me a  little
    nervous but not enough to raise the hackles  on my neck.

    I  got back to camp.  And there was trouble.  “Where the he’ll have you been?”
    “We found you missing.”  “Sent out the S-52’s”  “Heard you were dropped somewhere”

    My partner, Bill Morrisson, sitting with feet dangling from a Sikorsky helicopter.  Doing what he must have done
    the day I decided  to go for a long walk with a good book.  “Why the hell did you do that..got me worried sick.”

    “Just reading a book?”
    “Well, you are a goddamned fool.”
    (True)
    Those lectures were nearly as bad as  my slow awareness that spending a few hours
    nestled in the trackless wilderness may not have been a good idea.

    This story may  seem inconsequential.  Minor blip in life’s journey.  But I think of
    it often.  

    alan  skeoch
    June 5, 2020




    And so it ended.  I was chastised by everyone.  Then the whole incident was forgotten as the sun circled along
    the horizon and then popped up again.   And the Sikorsky went to sleep.

    alan skeoch
    June 2020
    (western Alaska, about 100 miles  inland from Dillingham, an mostly aboriginal
    village, town, on the coast of the Bering Sea.)

    Employed by Dr. Norman Paterson
    Hunting Technical  and Exploration Services
    -Canadian arew —Bill Morrison, Moe Chinery, Dr. John Stam, 
    Don Van Every, Ian Rutherford, and  Alan Skeoch
    -along with 25 American  diamond  drillers.

  • WE TRIED TO TOUR EUROPE ON FIVE DOLLARS A DAY IN 1965. IT DID NOT WORK WELL.

    EPISODE  58:  EUROPE ON FIVE DOLLARS A  DAY…




    EPISODE 58    EUROPE ON FIVE DOLLARS A DAY…WE TRIED IT N 1965

    alan skeoch
    June 2020


    I think…no,  I know…the author of EUROPE ON FIVE DOLLARS A DAY…expected us to live like the monks of Ireland once
    lived in these stone houses on the West Coast of Ireland, called  the Dingle.  At times our trip to Europe came close to
    this kind of existence.


    alan skeoch
    June 2020

    We  were new teachers.  Eric and I taught at
    Parkdale C.I.,  while Marjorie taught at Emery Junior
    High.  Salary around $6,000 per year.   

    There was a book written around 1960 titled “Europe
    on $5 a day.”.  In  1965,  Marjorie, my brother Eric and I
    decided to give it  a try.  Well, we did it…a whole series
    of adventures that might interest readers.  I know it is
    ego driven but some of the adventures were universal
    like the chilling visit to Dachau and the rescue of a rabbit afflicted
    with the poison Mixamatosis and the discovery we could
    live on Bulmer’s apple cider and cheese and bread.

    Marjorie was a great sport about the whole thing.
    She could take the privations and enjoy the adventures.
    My brother, Eric, refused to go 50/50 on the expenses which
    meant I had to pay 2/3 which I now know was reasonable.
    Marjorie was a little disturbed on one day when we did  not
    eat at all while crammed into a sleeping car in bunks
    that were stacked so  tight that there was little room to breath.


    A few choice adventures selected below.    Just keep in mind
    that we were all in our 20’s.  I was 27…Marjorie and Eric were 25.
    I hope readers can remember those years.  Otherwise you might be
    offended.  We were young and foolish and enjoyed life to the fullest.
     Ireland first and last.  We landed at Shannon, west coast of Ireland and headed
    south to Bunmahon, the mining village in which I worked five years earlier.
    This was our world tour.  Some readers might think the memory would
    record great events.  My memory only records small events.

    1) CRAWLING THROUGH AN ANCIENT MINE…KNOCKMAHON



    “There are ancient adits on the cliff face…we can crawl through them.”
    “What’s an adit?”
    “A hole punched through to help ventilate the mine.”
    “How big a hole?”
    “Big enough for us to walk stooped over but in some places
    we will have to crawl on our stomachs.”
    “Dangerous?”
    “Suppose so.  Air is the big danger…running out of air I mean.  When  Barney and
    I crawled through these adits we took a candle.   If he candle would not light,
    we got the hell out.”
    ‘What about collapse?”
    “Unlikely.  Weak spots would  have collapsed  by now…last used as  a  
    mine 100 year ago.”
    “Why are we doing this?”
    “Just for fun…we will only crawl in a  short way…to the big shaft which
    has filled with water from the ocean.  The miners tunnelled out a fair 
    distane under the ocean.   They had pumps  to remove the seepage.:
    “Alan, this is stupid… I want out.”
    “Eric and  I will just crawl a little further…meet out the seashore in 
    half hour or less.”
    “Stupid thing to do.”
    “must admit you are right.”

    “Here we are out, Marjorie.  What is that god  awful stink?”
    “What  stink?””
    “Marjorie  one of those huge rocks where you are waiting is not
    a rock…it’s a dead pig that floated in or fell off the cliff.  Bloated.”
    “Let’s get out of here”

    (And so we did.  Since then the Knockmahon mine has become a tourist spot 
    on the Irish South coast called the Copper Trail.  Tours of the inside of the mine
    can be arranged using the old  shaft entranceways rather than the adits. I imagine
    what we did, is  now forbidden.)


    2) CLIMBING AN IRISH MOUNTAIN

    “Park the car…we can climb this mountain.”
    “Hardly a mountain…full of sheep.”
    “But it’s high and rocky and wild.”
    “See who can get to the top fastest.”
    “Where is Marjorie?”
    “About fifty feet below us.”
    “See ig  she can play ‘Dodge Ball’”
    “Dodge Ball?”
    “We can fire sheep dung down there from here.”
    “Good idea.”

    “Stop…Stop”

    “She is good at the game.”
    “No contact yet.”



    3)  DUBLIN


    “Dublin?  What is  there to see?”
    “;Loads…Book of Kells, pock marked walls from the Time of the Trouble, O’Connell Street,  Pubs…”
    “Let’s do  the Guiness Brewery.”
    “Samples are terrific at end  of the tour”
    “Look, they use horses  to haul the beer about the City of Dublin.”
    “I don’t like beer.”
    “Terrific,  Eric and I do.”
    “Is this holiday for me as  well as you.”
    “Wait until you get on the ferry to cross the Irish Sea.”
    “I get sea sick.”   (She did)

    (Marjorie enjoyed our tour of the Jameson Distillery much better than the Guinness
    Brewery.  Samples.  We were  the only tourists so we got three sample bottles of whiskey each….saved 
    them for years.   I think Marjorie enjoyed the barrel making as well.  the barrel maker took a shine to her.
    Imagine, we were the
    only tourists that day. )

    4) LOWER WOOTON FARM  (Remember Eywood?)\


    The small white pony  thought it was a human being.  



    “Here we are…Lower Wooten Farm, Herefordshire”
    “It’s absolutely beautiful…”
    “16th century…black and white…protected national treasure.”
    “There’s Cyril Griffiths beside the barn.”
    “Looks troubled.”

    “Alan, good  to see you…and you will be Marjorie and Eric.”
    “How are you Cyril.”
    “Not good…need both of you in the barn
    we have a breached birth.”
    “Breached?”
    “Calf stuck in the womb.”
    “Tell us what to do.”
    “We have to pull it out…got rope around the feet…Pull when I say pull.”
    “When?”
    “When she goes into another contraction…Now…Pull…Pull”
    “Jesus, it’s coming but hard.”
    “Coming now…Now..”
    (And the calf flew through the air…missed me but landed on top of Eric)
    “Is it alive?”
    “Yes,.”
    “”well it landed right on top of me…after brith and all.”
    “And this is  my only suit….”

    (That happened  just as we got out of the car
    at Lower Wooten Farm.  
    Rather messy.}

    Marjorie and  Nancy Griffiths getting a chicken ready … he hard way…pulling feathers.





    5)  EYWOOD

    “Granddad must have planted those nectarines trees still flourishing in
    one of this intact greenhouse…look at the wooden marker…his name.”
    “Percy, do you remember grandad?”
    “Yes, I worked for him when I was a young gaffer…my job was to
    step and  fetch things…shears, hoes, water.”
    “Now you own the place.”
    “Yes, and I  want to give you something to remember me by.  Like 
    this large terrace cotta flower pot bound together with wire.  the
    kind we had back before the Great War.”
    “Can we pick it up later…love to have it.”

    (I don’t know how we did it but we got the huge clay flower pot on board
    our flight home…as big as a bushel basket)



    6) THE CHARMING LAKE DISTRICT…STINKS

    “Crammed with Tourists…but beautiful.”
    “No cheap place to stay.”
    “Let’s just buy a couple of post cards and clear out…find a pasture”

    “Here, Al, you pay for the post cards, Marjorie and I will wait outside.”
    (God awful stink…like sewage…worse.)
    “Oh, dear, SOMEONE HAS PASSED BY’” (comment by lady behind me in line to pay).
    “Damn them” (whispered to myself)
    “Oh, dear, dear, dear.”  (smell was revolting)

    (Outside the tourist store Marjorie and Eric were laughing so hard  tears
    ran down their faces.  Eric had farted.  I mean a  really ripe fart brought
    on by apple cider and cheese, maybe a beer as well.  That fart was  so  bad
    that I still remember it 60 years  later.   And what is worse, I was blamed
    for the fart by the ladies behind me in the line whose comment was also
    memorable.)

    “Someone has passed by”


    7)  SEA SICK ON A SHIP  THAT HAS NOT MOVED


    “I get sea sick, you know.:
    “But the ship has not even moved.”
    “No matter, I am sea sick.
    (and Marjorie was sea sick.  Shows the power of the human mind..

    “Dry land at last…”



    8)  IRISH HAY STACK…IDEAL 


    “Stop the car…back up.”
    “Why?”
    “Perfect spot for lunch…hay  stack in field with no one around.”
    “Unscrew the Bulmer’s, rip up the bread,  cut the cheese.”
    (Cut the cheese was a nasty expression in those days)

    9) PARIS   

    PARIS…”LOOK AT THE BOTTOM OF MY BED”


    “Hey, come and look at my bed.”

    (We found two inexpensive rooms across  the road from the magnificent
    Pantheon where Rouseau and Voltair are buried.  The rooms  were
    not as  grand as the Pantheon.
    “What?”
    “At the bottom of the bed.”
    “Nothing there.”
    “That’s not possible.”
    “What are we supposed to see?”
    “Cockraches…I spent the night killing them…put a
    whole pile  of them on  the floor at the bottom of
    my bed.”
    “Nothing there now.”
    “You know what that means?”
    “Yes…the live cockroaches took the  dead cockroaches away.”
    “Why?”
    “Certainly not for a funeral.”
    “Then why?”
    “For a dinner.”

    10) PARIS   NASTY ADVENTURE FOR MARJORIE

    (Eric and I had ordered a beer in a restaurant beside the Pantheon.
    The beer came in  a glass about he size of an egg cup at about the
    price of a pint in Ireland.  Nice glass though.  Marjorie had gone
    for a haircut on the Parisian Metro.  Turned out not to be a good
    idea. We kept the beer glass.)

    “There you are.”

    (Marjorie came running to our table…breathless…troubled.)

    “What’s wrong.”
    “I ran all the way here from a distant Metro station..”
    “Why?”
    “Calm down.”
    “ I cannot calm down.”
    “What happened?”
    “The subway was jammed with people…could hardly move when
    it happened.”
    “What happened?”
    “Bodies pressed tight together.  Man behind me…pressng very close…way too
    close.  Bulge.  Pushing against me.  He  was looking the other way but pressing
    his thing into my backside.  I was terrified.  Got off the Metro as soon as I could
    and  ran  all the way back here.”

    (Sounded sort of funny at first.  But we  decided it was not that funny so we
    left Paris by train the next day.  Eric decided to venture off to Spain on his
    own for a couple of days.  We would meet in Munich.)

      11) “BLONDIE…BLONDIE…COME OVER HERE”

    “How was the train ride to Spain, Eric.”
    “Not so good.”
    “Why?”
    “Spanish girls kept harassing me…called me 
    Blondie…Blondie.”
    “What ere their intentions?”
    “Sex, I assumed.”
    “And what did  you do?”
    “Stopped in Barcelona and took train back
    to meet you in Munich.”
    “Running away?”
    “Feared rape.”


    12)  DRIFTING DOWN THE RHINE…ROMANCE


    “Coblenz was  bombed  to smithereens in the war.  That’s why
    it looks so modern today.  None of the old town survived.”
    “So let’s take a river cruise up the Rhine and find a place to stay
    in the countryside.   Use the local ferry boat that stops here
    and there.”
    “Right here.  Mosel region.  We should splurge and buy
    a bottle of wine, Marjorie.  Just the two of un now that Eric
    has buggered off to Spain.”
    “Rent a nice room with one of those big German Eider downs.”
    “Romance thrives.”


    13) MUNICH BEER HALL…HOFBRAU HOUSE

    “These guys must have been soldiers in the War.”
    “Sure are professional  drinkers.”
    “How can the barmaids carry so many beer steins”
    “Strong women.”
    “Oh…look…there was a man under the table…coming up for air now.”
    “Alan, look at that other poor man…passed out with his cigarette
    still burning between his fingers.”
    “Sad.”
    “I am going to put out the cigarette before he gets burned.”
    “Maybe better  to mind your own business.”
    “No. …There, it’s out.”
    “The men at the table want to buy us beer as a result.”
    “Three new steins full…lots of beer.”
    “Toasting you Marjorie.”


    14)   A PARK IN CENTRAL MUNICH

    “We had too much beer, Alan.”
    “I know.”
    “I am  sleepy.”
    “Only early afternoon….no B and B.”
    “Let’s just flop down in the park.”

    (And we did.  All Three of us.  out cold. With souvenir 
    beer steins we bought from the Hofbrau house and
    still have to this day.}

    “Wake up…wake up…no sleeping allowed in this park.” (said in German)
    (Park attendant was  amused, spoke in German of course, but
    he was gentle.  Awakened us…gathered our steins and gently
    suggested we move along.)

    15)   DACHAU… CHILLING REMINDER OF POWER OF HATRED

    “Where is Dachau?”

    (We planned  to visit the Dachau extermination camp but had 
    difficult getting locals to tell us how to get there.  Eventually
    we found the horrific place which was part of an American military
    base in 1965 and therefore preserved.  There was nothing nice
    about this visit.)

    “Alan, I hate this place.  I will not go any further inside the camp.
    Just let me sit here.  Makes  me feel faint.”  (Marjorie)

    15)   TOUGH MUNICH STREETCAR CONDUCTRESS…REALLY TOUGH.

    “How do we get to downtown Muinich?”
    “Get in…GET IN NOW. “ (in German)
    (Big woman, Driving street car…no smile…gave orders in broken English)
    “Sit at BACK…{And she pointed to back of street car….very insistent…no smile.}

    “Where are we going?”
    “No idea…just obeying orders.”
    “COMEN SIE…COME HERE.”  
    “Does she mean us?”
    “Apparently…everyone is  looking our way.”
    (We followed orders.)
    “How much  do  we owe you?”
    “Nothing…a gift…You are now in town centre. Welcome.”
    (And she waved  us off.  Never smiling.  But a nice woman.)


    16)  TRAIN …GERMANY TO ENGLAND…JAMMED LIKE CATTLE CAR


    “OK, we are running out of money. Need  a cheap way to get back to England.”
    “Train will do it. Each compartment folds into beds for six people.”
    “So we avoid another B and B cost.  Sleep on the train.”
    “Does not seem like much room here.”
    “The other three have taken their beds.”
    “Leaves you with the top bunk,Al.”
    “Why me?”
    “Because you are too damn slow.”
    “Hard to breathe up here.”
    “Marjorie and I do not give a sweet goddamn, Al.”

    17) LATER…SAME TRAIN HEADING FOR THE COAST

    “When are we going to eat, Alan?”
    “When we get to London.”
    “But that’s a full day away.”
    “Save money.”
    “Do you mean no food at all.”

    18) THE TWO DERBY HATS


    ‘”Let’s look at the antique…junk…Portabelo Road market”  (in London).
    “Not much money left.”

    (just as we started to walk the roadway of dealers there was a board 
    fence…One board moved.)

    “You lads need Derby Hats.”
    What?”
    “I have two Derby Hats  for sale…cheap…just the thing for you boys…give
    you a little class.”
    “How much?”
    “Five pounds each…take them both for eight pounds.”
    “Why are you selling from behind the board fence?”
    “Take them or leave them, boys…”




    (So we bought our Derby Hats


    19) TREASURES…WOULD YOU RENT US A  ROOM…THREE OF US, ONE  ROOM, PLUS BAGGAGE

    “Marjorie, take a picture…all our worldly possessions.”
    “I see the Hofbrau house beer stein, the quart of apple cider, the cheese, copies of Beatrix Potter…and
    you with the Derby and that brass bound barrel we bought.
    “Anything else?”
    “Oh, yes, the BOOT.”
    (needs a separae entry below…but first…look at Eric’s boot on the fireplace mantel.  Why is there
    only one boot there?”


    20) THE BOOT

    “Eric, is sleeping.”
    “Took a while for us to come agreement…”
    “Cheaper for FOUR of us to sleep in one room.  Eric  Agreed.”
    “But he did not agree to a 50 / fo split.”
    “No, he figured on a 1/3 and 2/3 deal…

    (You are wondering about the FOUR in bold letters.  Well, we were driving along an English backroad
    and Marjoire spotted a baby rabbit in distress.  “Stop, Save the Bunny!”  So that became the fourth
    member of our tour in England.  The poison Mixamatosis was being spread  around  to control rabbits.
    Marjorie’s bunny had a small dose.  It survived with her care.)

    “What does that have to do with the Boot above the fireplace in the previous  picture, you ask.”
    “Well for some reason the rabbit liked to sleep in Eric’s boot.””
    “And that meant rabbit marbles  in his boots in he morning.”
    “Why is there one one boot above he fireplace>”
    “You know the answer better than me.  Eric put both boots
    up there.  You took one down when he fell asleep so the rabbit
    had a bed.”

    “What will we do with the rabbit?”
    (We let it go in a nice green field in Scotland…hoping we were to far north for the poisoners.)
    “Then we we’re back to three to a room.  Eric got the children’s cot.”

    21) FLYING HOME FROM DUBLIN…NOT OUR BEST FOOT FORWARD




    “Will you join us while we wait for the flight?”
    “Will you have a pint of  Guinness?”
    “I will but my father here is  Pioneer.”
    “Pioneer?”
    “he does not drink…thinks drink has damaged  image of the Irish and  others.”
    “Will he join us though?”
    “Sure…we have two hours  before the flight.”

    (This turned out to be a bad idea.  We were excited to be flying home to Toronto
    …exhausted.  Glad  to join a Roman Catholic  priest and his  father …most of
    us  sharing a pint or two of Guinness.  Even Marjorie had  a glass.   When we boarded
    the plane we were not too bad. But when we got up to 20,000 or 20,000 feet things
    went awry.  We were laughing a lot.  Really enjoying each  others company. Silly.
    Of course we were wearing our derby hats as well.  Caused quite a ruckus on
    the plane, especially when Eric  felt a little sickly and called the stewardess.)

    “Would you take this away.  I’ve been a  little sick…altitude sickness.”
    (and he handed her his pillow having put the sick bag behind his head.
    The stewardess  laughed but a few moments later the pilot came
    back to visit us.  I now realize this visit was not social.  He scouted  us
    out and decided we were not a big problem.  He even tried on one
    our Derby Hats.  By that time I was cold sober trying to subdue Marjorie
    who insisted on  painting my face with the whipped cream  flight dessert.)

    “We will be landing in  Iceland for refuelling.  Short time but we will
    deplane all the same.  Back in the air in about two hours.”

    22)   MR. SKEOCH…YOU WERE MY STUDENT TEACHER LAST YEAR.

    (This was routine.  But the events were not routine. Eric  was
    still woozy.  Throwing up a bit.  The dry heaves as they say
    Everyone sat in a large waiting room.   I was on one side
    of Eric and a young girl was on the other side.  The funniest thing
    happened then.   The young girl tapped Eric  on the arm…

    “You are Mr. Skeoch,  my student teacher at Humberside a couple
    of years  ago.  I remember you. So much fun.”

    (Eric continued holding the bag tightly to his chest.  Marjorie was better 
    bu then.   We looked at each other … then at Eric…then at the young
    student.   This probably seems  awful to some readers but it was really
    quite funny…quite harmless.   it was a time in our lives that could never
    be repeated.)

    alan skeoch
    June 2020

    p.s.  Picture below of the Royal George pub in Lyons Hall, Herefordshire.
    Before it became a pub it was the birthplace  of  our Grandfather Edward
    Freeman…the gardener at Windsor Castle and the Eywood.  


  • EUROPE ON $5 A DAY…WE TRIED IT IN 1965…TOUGH SLEDDING BUT ADVENTURES.

    I will be late today as we must finish planting

    at farm.

    We  were new teachers.  Eric and I taught at
    Parkdale C.I.,  while Marjorie taught at Emery Junior
    High.  Salary around $6,000 per year.   

    There was a book written around 1960 titled “Europe
    on $5 a day.”.  In  1965,  Marjorie, my brother Eric and I
    decided to give it  a try.  Well, we did it…a whole series
    of adventures that might interest readers.  I know it is
    ego driven but some of the adventures were universal
    like the chilling visit to Dachau and the rescue of a rabbit afflicted
    with the poison Mixamatosis and the discovery we cold
    live on Bulmer’s apple cider and cheese and bread.

    Marjorie was a great sport about the whole thing.
    She could take the privations and enjoy the adventures.
    My brother, Eric, refused to go 50/50 on the expenses which
    meant I had to pay 2/3 which I now know was reasonable.
    Marjorie was a little disturbed on one day when we did  not
    eat at all while crammed into a sleeping car in bunks
    that were stacked so  tight that there was little room to breath.

    One anecdote with picture.  

    In London we visited an antique market where
    a British crook offered us  derby hats recently’stolen
    no doubt.  Mine had Harold McMillans initials.

    We became Toffs (I think that is the word).


    This story will be done in a point by point form…just to remove chance of
    boredom.

    But it may not come today. So use this as an introduction.

    alan

  • Fwd: EPISODE 57 EYWOOD REVISITED 1960…SAD SIGHT TO SEE



    Begin forwarded message:


    From: ALAN SKEOCH <alan.skeoch@rogers.com>
    Subject: EPISODE 57 EYWOOD REVISITED 1960…SAD SIGHT TO SEE
    Date: June 2, 2020 at 11:04:00 AM EDT


    EPISODE 57   EYWOOD REVISITED 1960…SAD  SIGHT TO SEE

    alan skeoch
    June 2020

    “Well, Alan,  I expect you would like to see Eywood?”
    “Any time you are ready.”
    “Few chores to do first.”
    “No problem.  Do you miss he Eywood Estate farm of Oatcroft?”

    (Cyril did not answer…just looked at me….perhaps pain in his
    way of looking.  Oatcroft was  500 cree in size.  Lower Wooten farm
    was about 40 acres.  I should not have asked that question.)



    “Let’s round up the sheep  before we go, Alan.”
    “Sure thing.”
     (And strangely, this photograph of Cyril , his rented farm, his sheep, has a deep
    impact.  Hopeful, purposeful, human.  I was quite willing to delay the visit to
    Eywood even though my time in England was very limited.  Actually I feared the 
    visit.

    Demolitions were happening all over England…big houses  becoming piles of rubble.


    Was the demolition of Eywood in1954 startling to the British people?   Was there a feeling that
    a national treasure was  about to disappear?  Not in the least.  A country house
    was being demolished every five days by 1955.  Some of them far more impressive
    than Eywood.  What made matters worse is  that no one seemed  concerned.
    The social life of the country houses was dead.   In many cases, like Eywood,
    the building faced succession dues as high as 65% of value.  This cost plus
    the fact that many of the aristocratic owners  had  been killed in the two World
    Wars of the 20th century meant that country houses were doomed.  The large 
    number of servants and workers that once depended upon the largesse of
    the wealthy class had found better pay and real independence elsewhere.
    The result was  that the owners of hundreds of country houses  could not
    afford the maintenance of  these once  semi-palatial homes.  Demolition 
    was the answer.

    In England  alone 1,998 of these large beautiful country houses have
    been demolished.  The records are there.  The weeping was not
    there.  In the 1950’s England was trying to survive after the devastation
    of World War II.   Sympathy for the problems of the wealthy class that
    owned these large country houses was lacking.



    The strange thing to me was the fact I had a feeling of loss.  Why?
    I did  not know Eywood at all.  Where did this feeling of loss come from
    then?   It came from those hand carved picture frames hanging in the one
    warm room in Grandma and Grandpa Freeman’s farm house.  And
    had I looked closely I should have noticed the feeling for Eywood
    was really a feeling of fellowship for those who made Eywood function
    …the people that worked there.  In each of those picture frames
    was a picture of a person.  Not one picture  frame included a
    picture of the stately estate country house called  Eywood.

    Listed below are the country houses demolished  in Herefordshire alone.
    The contents  kept  several auction houses in business.   



    Herefordshire
    Allensmore Court Allensmore Herefordshire 1958
    Aramstone House King’s Caple Herefordshire 1959 N Image(s) [Link to an external site]
    Bromtrees Hall Bishop’s Frome Herefordshire c.1945 De, N
    Broxwood Court Broxwood Herefordshire 1955 N Image(s)
    Cheyney Court Bishop’s Frome Herefordshire 1888 B
    Cowarne Court Much Cowarne Herefordshire 1960s Image(s)
    Croft Castle Croft Herefordshire 1937 P
    Eardisley Park Eardisley Herefordshire 1999 B, N Image(s) [Link to an external site]
    Eywood Titley Herefordshire 1954 Su Info + Image(s)
    Foxley Yazor Herefordshire 1948 Dw Image(s)
    Freens Court Sutton Herefordshire 1953 De
    Garnons Mansell Gamage Herefordshire 1957 P Image(s)
    Garnstone Castle Weobley Herefordshire 1959 Image(s)
    Gayton Hall Upton Bishop Herefordshire 1955
    Goodrich Court Goodrich Herefordshire 1950 Image(s)
    Harewood Park Harewood Herefordshire 1959 Dw, Su, N Info + Image(s)
    Hatfield Court Hatfield Herefordshire P
    Hope End House Ledbury Herefordshire 1873 N
    Huntingdon Park Huntingdon Herefordshire 1966 De
    Knill Court Knill Herefordshire 1943 B, N Info + Image(s)
    Letton Court [I] Letton Herefordshire 1863 N
    Letton Court [II] Letton Herefordshire 1925 B, N
    Moor Court Pembridge Herefordshire 1950s
    Moor [The] Clifford Herefordshire 1952
    Moreton Court Moreton-on-Lugg Herefordshire 1950s Info + Image(s) [Link to an external site]
    Perrystone Court Foy Herefordshire 1959 B, N
    Rotherwas Dinedor Herefordshire 1925
    Saltmarshe Castle Bromyard Herefordshire 1955 Image(s)
    Sarnesfield Court Sarnesfield Herefordshire 1955 Image(s)
    Shobdon Court Shobdon Herefordshire 1933 Su Image(s)
    Staunton Park Staunton-on-Arrow Herefordshire 1921 N Image(s)
    Stoke Edith Tarrington Herefordshire 1927 B Image(s)
    Thinghill Withington Herefordshire c.1929/30
    Tyberton Court Tyberton Herefordshire 1952 Image(s)
    Urishay Castle Peterchurch Herefordshire 1921 S
    Whitfield Wormbridge Herefordshire c.1949-53 P Image(s)
    Whittern [The] Lyonshall Herefordshire 1930s N
    Wistaston Court Herefordshire c.1910 B
    Wormbridge House Wormbridge Herefordshire 1798
    Hertfordshire
    So Cyril Griffiths was going to take me to Eywood.   He seemed in no rush to do so.
    His  family were really happy that I  had come.  A descendent of the Eywood family.
    Not the blood family.  But the working family.

    What would I find when we got to the estate?

    I expected ruin.  Expected piles of bricks and broken mortar.
    That is not what i found.   What I found was, and remains, quite remarkable.

    COMING NEXT.

    EPISODE 58:  FINALLY, A VISIT TO EYWOOD…A GRAND SURPRISE…COMING NEXT EPISODE




  • EPISODE 56 EYWOOD …PART THREE

    EPISODE 56    EYWOOD  PART THREE   … SURPRISE VISIT 1960

    alan skeoch
    May  2020

    THE IRISH JOB COMES FIRST:

    IRELAND IN SEPTEMBER 1960…KNOCKMAHON MINE.  COULD IT BE REOPENED?   

    RUINS OF THE MINE REMAIN TO THIS  DAY (2020) AS TOURIST DESTINATION  .  IN 1960 THAT WAS NOT THE CASE…IT WAS
    A RUIN.

    DR. JOHN STAM AND JOHN HOGAN…ON WAY TO MINE SITE
    IRELAND  WAS CHARMING IN 1960…MUCH AS PICTURED IN THE FILM THE QUIET MAN.



    What is that expression about ebb tide?  Shakespeare’s  Julius Caeser where  Brutus  says….

    There is a tide in the affairs of men.
    Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;
    Omitted, all the voyage of their life
    Is bound in shallows and in miseries.
    On such a full sea are we now afloat,
    And we must take the current when it serves,
    Or lose our ventures.

    I know this  may sound silly but I have often thought of those words
    when faced with an opportunity.  Either I grab the opportunity or I let 
    it slip away.    In the summer of 1960 I had been trusted  to operate 
    a Turam electromagnetic survey on an ancient mine site on the south
    coast of Ireland.  A  place called  Bunmahon where copper had been 
    mined in the19th century and there was just a chance the old mine could
    be brought back to life. 

     I was  in the right place at the right time.

    The previous summer four of us…called  ‘instrument men’ …who operated
    a Turam job in south west Alaska near the Aleutian Chain.   One man,  Bill Morrson,
     knew how to set up
    the generator, base line,  read the console, etc.  I was  assigned to be his helper.  Bill taught me all the
    ins  and  outs of prospecting with the Turam.  The other two fellows,
    Don Van Every and  Ian Rutherford also were instructed. That was
    1959.  

    [
    POLICE KEPT WATCH  ON OUR WORK

    The following year much to my surprise i was the only person still around who had
    operated the machine.   The other three guys had gone God knows where.
    I was on the ebb tide…riding high.  Entrusted  by Dr. Norman Paterson to
    sleuth out the old  mine in Knockmahon,  County Waterford, Eire.  Dr. John
    Stam,  a professional geophysicist would interpret the Turam Readings. 
    John Hogan wold do the geology.  It
    was  up to me to get the magnetic data…to make sure the Turam worked.

    Ireland in 1960 was exactly as tourist  photos described.

    Local newspaper arrived occasionally … as did police …even the village priest…all kept close eye on us.


    “ALAN,  DO YOUR REALLY NEED ALL THOSE EMPLOYEES?”  Question raised by Canadian office.

    MY BOSS IN CANADA, DR. NORMAN PATERSON WONDERED WHY SO  MANY MEN WERE HIRED.  THERE WERE GOOD
    REASONS.  THIS IS  PAYDAY … PAID MEN WEEKLY AND GAVE BONUS OF CIGARETTES AND CHOCOLATE BARS.   YES,
    I WAS CRITICISED FOR THIS LARGESSE.


    MUCH MONEY WAS  SPENT IN KIRWIN’S PUB.  MOST OF  THESE MEN WERE EMPLOYED BY US.  TERRIBLE NEED
    FOR JOBS.


    I RENTED THIS OLD TRUCK A COUPLE OF TIMES.  NEEDED CRANK.  FLOORBOARDS HAD GAPS.


    THIS IS THE TURAM…E.M. UNIT AT WORK IN AN IRISH WHEAT FIELD.



    IF WE HIT HIGH READINGS  WE OCCASIONALLY HAD MEN DIG PITS DOWN TO BED ROCK.
    LOTS OF MYSTERY AS A REJULT OF SOME OF THESE EXCAVATIONS SUCH AS  THE 
    DEAD COW CAPER …LED TO DISCOVERY OF OLD MINE ADIT FROM 1850’S.

    June, July and August…I did  my job.  Tried not to let anyone  down.
    This  was  a big responsibility which  I took very seriously.  There was a
    social side of the job as well like A pint   of
    Gjuinnes  each night with Dr. Stam and John Hogan in Kirwin’s [ub
    helped  all of us relax.  We hired the whole village. I will explain 
    that in future episodes.  Perchance a  few readers of these episodes
    saw the John Wayne, Maureen Ohara,  Barrie Fitzgerald  movie titled
    ‘The Quiet Man”…an  imaginary story about Ireland that was  damn
    near true.  Surprised.  Joyful. 

    When the job ended.  The Ebb tide came once more  I made a fast
    decision without prompting.  After crating up the mining equipment
    and  shipping it ask to Canada.  I set sail  on the EBB tide for
    England.  This was my chance to see if EYWOOD  REALLY EXISTED.
    Truth be told I had no idea where I was going.  Eywood was in Herefordshire
    England.  First I had to get there.  If I failed I would  still fly home.  Just a few
    days later than Dr. Paterson expected.  My job was over anyway.  Fast 
    decision to catch that Ebb Tide to Eywood.

    Perhaps my journal entries are the best way to describe this
    adventure.  Remember I was going almost blind but not totally.
    I had a name…Cyril Griffiths whose mother Polly had been in
    constant letter writing contact with my grandmother from 1905 until
    her death in 1954.  And I had  a name…Lower Wooten Farm somewhere
    in Herefordshire, perhaps close to Eywood.  Eywood itself was
    a blank.   The Estate, to my knowledge, had been put up for auction
    and then demolished.  

     Why go there at all?  There was a sense of
    mystery about the estate and just a chance that the estate gardens…
    where Granddad was head gardener for a decade…just a chance 
    that huge brick walled garden was intact.

    JOURNAL

    Sunday September 4, 1960
    Bunmahon,
    County Waterford,
    Southern Ireland

    Packing up the job.   Has been an exciting time.  Mr. and Mrs. Daye presented  me with two
    figurines.  Mrs. Kennedy,  the village leader, gave me a fine tablecloth.  Tommy gave Me a nice
    bottle of Guiness Stout.   


    CRATED EQIPMENT … BIG RESPONSIBILITY FOR ME…FLATTERED TO BE TRUSTED.

    In the afternoon I hired Barney Dwan to help crate up our equipment.  Very sad to leave.
    Barney has been my right hand man.  Later Dr. John Stam and I drove to Tramore for a
    fast game of mini golf and a meal of fish and chips topped off with a bottle of Bass Ale.

    I am going to miss all in the village.  Managed to hire quite a few of them so became a
    major employer paying them one pound  a day plus free packs of Wild Woodbine cigarettes
    and chocolate bars.   Back in Canada, Dr. Norman Paterson wondered why I needed so many
    employees. 




    THE SOUTH COAST OF IRELAND IS DOTTED WITH HISTORIC RUINS

    HERE ARE THREE OF THE BOYS TAKING A REST.  THE CATTLE HAD TO BE PREVENTED FROM EATING OUR GROUNDED
    CABLE…BUT COULD NOT BE STOPPED.  LITTLE BALLS OF COPPER WIRE WERE VOMITTED…OR PASSED.  

    THIS YOUNG BOY WAS HIRED TO GUARD OUR GROUNDING RODS AND GENERATOR FROM
    CATTLE AND SEMI WILD PIGS.   HE TOOK THE JOB VERY SERIOUSLY. CAMPED THERE.

     “Cost of labour here is so cheap…. ten men amounts to less than cost of 
    one man in Canada.   And I need ten men to protect our base line for the cattle keep eating
    chunks of the cable then regurgitating balls of yellow sheathed copper wire.  Try to stop
    this from happening.   Also need a man to lift me over the stone and brier fences.  Sounds
    stupid, I know but these fences are a nightmare.  Danger that a bull would charge and I cannot
    get away with console, battery pack, copper coil, record book, etc.  Need another two men
    to protect our grounding points and tend the motor generator.  Then need two linecutting
    crews…etc. etc.  Want more Dr. Patterson”  

     Barney Dwan told me a story about a nun crossing
    an open field.  All they found of her were her shoes with her feet in them.  Semi wild hogs
    got her.   Not sure I believe this  story.”

    I will miss all these men.  Just  getting to know all their names and meeting
    their families and now we are packing up the gear.   I will also miss Kirwin’s pub in the
    evenings.  Quite a  social hub.  It does not take long to develop at taste for Guiness.

    MONDAY SEPTEMBER 5, 1960

    We finished  crating all  the equipment  and made arrangements with Frank Kirwin to 
    transport the crates to Waterford. Seemed  like all was ready.  Not so.  I could
    not find my return tickets home…flight.  Panic.  Mrs. Kennedy helped…no luck
    so she called a great group of the villagers to her home.  Why?  Seemed  strange
    to me as well.  “Master Skeoch has lost his tickets home.  He needs our help.”
    There were about  a dozen people gathered in the sitting room. Some got down 
    on their knees and prayed.  Others held hands in a circle.  Then Mrs. Kennedy did
    the strangest thing. She reached in the pile of records, papers, graphs,
    waste paper and pulled out my tickets…one reach only.  I know this sounds far
    fetched  but it was real.  After that I took a family photo of the Kennedys.   Bridey, my
    maid (yes, I had a maid) presented  me with an Irish handkerchief.  You remember
    Bridey…she was the person who yanked the covers off me while inked and
    announced “Time for Mass, Master Skeoch” and made certain I attended even if
    I was a Presbyterian.  Because of her we did not work on Sundays as we did
    on bush jobs in Canada.

    THIS IS THE KENNEDY FAMILY.  MRS. KENNEDY RAN THE VILLAGE REALLY.  SHE HAD THE ONLY STORE IN TOWN.  HER SON
    GERALD WAS  HANDICAPPED AS  YOU MIGHT NOTICE.  HE FOLLOWED ME AROUND AND WAS A JOY.  THEIR LABRADOR DOG
    WAS TRAINED TO KEEP GERALD FROM WANDERING INTO THE SEA.  MR. KENNEDY WAS A  FARMER.

    The boys all  came to see me off.  Very sad farewell, This  has been a big
    adventure for everyone including me.  Would it mean the rebirth of the village?
    That would remain to be seen.  (It did  not happen)

    Tommy, Frank and  I drove to Waterford in the old truck.   Met John Stam
    and John Hogan.  Picked up newspaper that had featured our crew and
    the attempt to reopen the old  Knockmahon mine.  Then I  caught the
    train to Dublin and road in the first class compartment…like John Wayne
    did in the The Quiet Man movie. Seemed I had been reliving that movie.

    TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1960

    Woke early and  enjoyed the full tourist breakfast…several eggs, sausages, rasher of bacon,
    fried tomato, marmalade and triangles of toast…then coffee.   Viisited Arbuckle, Smith
    and Company to finalize arrangements  with KLM airline for my flight home.
    Then went shopping in the rain.  Portable clock,27 shillings, sixpence;
    Sweater for Marjorie, 3 pounds, 10 shillings; three fake shillalahs , 40 shillings;
    2 pints of  Guiness, 2 shillings;  gifts for Kevin Behan and family, 10  shillings.
    Rented a slide projector and showed slides of Bunmahon job to the Behan
    family who had hosted me so well in Dublin.  Kevin became name of our first son
    in distant future … named after Kevin Behan.
      Back to hotel late…deep sleep…too deep as it happened.

    WEDNESDAY , SEPTEMBER 7, 1960

    Late awakening.  Alarm clock did not work.  Had a hell of a rush to make the
    ferry boat to England.  Miss that boat and  all my plans to visit Eywood Estate
    would  be ruined.  “Can you get me to the docks fast?”, I asked the taxi and
    we speeded through the streets of Dublin.  Made it by skin of my teeth.
    Boat trip was  uneventful but nice.

    Where was I going?  I really did  not know.  Caught a train out to Herefored which
    seemed a good place to start since Eywood was in Herefordshire.  What to do
    in Hereford? I looked  up the name of Cyril Griffiths in the telephone book.  Felt
    lost really.  The train platform emptied.  I was almost alone.  Almost.
    “Can I help you son?”, asked a well dressed older man.  

    STRANGE EVENT HAPPENED:  “Yes, you can help maybe.  I am looking for
    Cyril Griffiths who lives  at Lower Wooten Farm somewhere in Herefordshire.”
    Just saying that made me realize this venture was really stupid. 

    “I know Cyril
    Griffiths and know Lower Wooten Farm,  perhaps  I can give you a  lift there…near
    the village of Almely…some distance from here.  I am the local bank  manager
    for Cyril.”

    CYRIL AND NANCY GRIFFITHS.  NEAR RELATIVES.  THEY OPERATED OATCROFT FARM ON THE EYWOOD ESTATE UNTIL THE
    ESTATE  WAS BROKEN UP.  THEN THEY OPERATED  LOWER WOOTEN FARM PICTURED BELOW.  WONDERFUL PEOPLE.

    What a surprise.  The whole Grifiths family were expecting me.  Mom had sent them
    a letter that maybe I would arrive in early September.  Shy greetings.  Cyril and
    Nancy Griffiths, aunt Polly, and their son David who was about 14 years old.

    HERE THE WHOLE GRIFFITHS FAMILY IS OUT FOR A FORMAL PICTURE.  OUR PATHS  WOULD CROSS MANY TIMES
    FROM 1960 TO THE PRESENT.
    THIS PICTURE IS BACKWARDS  BUT GIVES GOOD VIEW OF LOWER WOOTEN FARM.  PICTURE WAS TAKEN ON A SUBSEQUENT
    VISIT.  MARJORIE IN DOORWAY.  ON THAT TRIP WE CAUGHT A HEDGEHOG ONE EVENING…IT CURLED UP LIKE A BOWLING BALL
    SO WE BOWLED WITH IT A FEW TIMES THEN IT TRUNDLED AWAY TO THE FENCEROW.

    Lower Wooten Farm was  a storybook farm.  Built in the 16th century and designated an 
    historic building that could not be  changed.   The Farm was wonderful.  A bed was ready.
    The floors were uneven.  The ceiling was held up by oak  beams.  The roof was ancient
    slate.  (SEE PICTURE)

    THURSDAY SEPTEMBER 8, 1960

    Beautiful day in a wonderful  setting. Young  David took me around the farm where we
    helped Cyril debeak turkeys so they would not cannibalize each other I assumed.
    Then Cyril drove us into Eardislely, a quaint black  and white 16 th century village.
    In the afternoon we  drove to a farm auction near Leominster.

    VISIT TO EYWOOD …

    EYWOOD AS IT REMAINS TO THIS  DAY…A RUIN.

    “Alan, I expect you will want to see Eywood.  Not much to see anymore.  The great
    house has been demolished…just a few brick walls  and the stone entranceway remain.
    but your grandfathers place is intact…the gardens were bought by Henry Mills.
    I know him well.  He will be glad to see you.”

    END  PART THREE

    PART FOUR 

    EPISODE 57:  COMING  NEXT:     EYWOOD … WHAT REMAINS OF A GREAT ESTATE