EPISODE 691 THE MARATHON JOB…AND MARRIAGE AUGUST 24, 1963
“Floyd, why don’t we have a gun to protect us from bears?”
“Because we would likely shoot each other” (Floyd Faulkner 1958*
*That was one of the worst jobs ever. Floyd was right. Bob Hilkar, Floyd
Faulkner, Walter Helstein and I did get on each other nerves but never
so much as we needed a gun. We spent 3 months in that tent. Smelled bad.
All the same the principal of ’no guns’
was a sane principal that should be etched in stone somewhere…everywhere.”)
This job in Marathon in 1963 was supposed to be my last bush job…but it wasn’
Read on.
alan skeoch
Dec. 11, 2022
My mining days were not over quite yet. Even though marriage was on the near horizon…August 24, 1963…
I accepted a survey job near Marathon, Ontario. A wilderness job. Dr. Paterson put me in charge
of the logistics and sent a Welsh man, John Lloyd, to do the interpretation of our results.
Marjorie accepted my explanation. “The money I earn will pay for our honeymoon.”
MARATHON JOB and THE BLACK BEAR and BILL GILBEY
“What about the bear?” I know. I know. (Some readers may wonder about the bear story
alluded to in a previous episode)
That was one smart bear. It seemed to like our camp.
Hung around. Once it Grabbed a salami hanging in our cook tent. Expected easy pickings…better than
the local garbage dump. One dark night John Lloyd reached for his axe mistaking me for the bear.
Dangerous. The bear was a novelty at first.
We tried our damndest to scare the bear away. Like hitching the generator to the garbage can lid. It did not
work. Before we could flip the switch the bear got our box of chocolate bars. We had figured
a good jolt of electrify would deter the bear. Nothing worked and the bear was getting bolder.
We expected the bear would join us at our cook tent table one day. Did the bear reach into the cook
tent for that hanging salami while we were having supper? That might be my imagination.
I was in charge so had to make a decision. A gun! The bear had to be removed before
someone got hurt, Canadian mining survey crews do not carry guns. Why not? “Because.”
said Floyd Faulkner, “we were likely to shoot each other”. Which was true. The job
was tough. Slogging through bug infested forests day in and day out tends to breed
discontent. Sleeping on the ground beside a guy who snores and farts can be irritating.
Having wet feet day after day also makes men irritable. No anger on this job but lots
of laughter…especially when Bill Gilbey was reading and showing us excerpts from
the Eaton mail order catalogue.
Marathon hob, left to right: Bill Glbey, David Murphy, Alan Skeoch, Roger Nicholls,
John Lloyd.
I have a good memory but not perfect. I do not remember what this machine did.
Suspect it was a trial machine to find underground conductors. Seems not to have worked
because we never used it. Then again maybe we were just too stupid and could
not figure how to make the machine work. Pics were taken as promotion for investors. Mining
exploration was going through terrific changes in the 1960’s. Don’t we look impressive.?
BUT NO GUNS IN CAMP
So no guns. Fine by me. I hate guns and regard gun lovers as deranged.which alienates
me from hunters and the gun sport lobby (IRA). I Became a gun hater by experience rather than idealism.
I shot my brother in the ass just to see if our brand new BB gun had punch. Lost him
as a friend for a while as a result. Dad smashed the BB gun across a Manitoba maple in
our back yard. Before that I managed to shoot the panes out of several farm
drivesheds and even put a BB through the back window of Angus McEchern’s
half ton as he drove down the Fifth line that Christmas day so long ago.
I know this dissertation is too long. Only desperation caused me to invite the
local Lands and Forests Ranger to our campsite. “The bear is getting a little
too friendly. There he is over at the tent flap.” The bear visited us in the daytime
at that point.
We were more at fault than the bear. All our food just sitting in the cook tent.
“Only one thing we can do…shoot the bear. Too bad. Easy access
to food results in a lot of dead bears.” (a veiled criticism)
Ans he raised the rifle
“Stay behind me…OK he’s standing to get a good look at us.”
And he fired
“got him”
The bear did not move for a second or so. Then it did something I will
neer forget. It cried like a little baby. Slumped over and died. We buried him
where he fell. None of us on crew…Roger Nichols, DavidMurphy, John Lloyd,
Bill Gilbey and myself felt good about what we had done. Since I had made
the decision I probably felt the worst. Never could understand the joy a hunter
feels when he shoots an animal for no other reason than the joy of the kill.
Thankfully Bill Gilbey broke our depression by turning the pages of
Eatpn’s catalogue as he did every night. A whole section of the catalogue
is devoted to female lingerie. “How we have fallen when we have to depend
on Eaton’s catalogue for our pornography?” And he held up a model showing
off a brassiere or something even more suggestive. we all laughed as we
did with just about everything Bill Gilbey did.
Perhaps a word about Bill Gilbey migh be interestng. Those of you who drink gin
might recognize the name. Gilbey’s Gin is sold in liquor stores around
the world. Bill was born into the ranks of English lesser nobility. His father,
Sir William Gilbey had been knighted for some reason or other. That put Bill
into the upper class. What was he doing on a lowly geophysical survey crew
like ours? Will he require bowing and scraping….maybe a curtsy?
“Alan, you will have a special person on he crew this year. Guy whose family
name is on thousands of gin bottle. Gilbey.”
Bill Gilbey in his sleeping bag with an air mail letter close by. And Bill Gilbey in our canoe on the
Little Pic River where one of our line cutters drowned or so we were told.
Bill turned out to be a wonderful guy to work with….sharp sense of humour…capable..wonder what he wrote in that air mail letter ?
Capable of swearing at mosquitoes and black flies with the rest of us. Later
some beer drinkers mimicked his accent…kept needling him. He met one of them
outside the pub who wanted to punch him out. It was a one punch fight. Bill could
box. Surprised me for he was nicest guy imaginable. (A Couple of years ago I tried to
find him in England and discovered he had died.) He was as sad about the bear as
the rest of us.
And so the summer of 1963 rolled along and was over too soon.
Then a Chevrolet pulled in to our gravel site campsite. Marjorie and her guardian, Phyllis Morgan and my mom
arrived to take me back to Toronto for the wedding. The boys gathered round, presented us
with a card table as a gift.
Marjorie fitted in so well wit the boys that an idea
was hatched in the far corner of my brain. Maybe Marjorie could join us next summer.
Maybe my mining exploration days were not over. Maybe Marjorie might like
to come along on another job. As long as I kept my mouth
shut about the plan. Our boss, Dr. Paterson, made a big mistake telling
me that his wife came with him on a couple of jobs. Marjorie could be a big
asset as she could cook, sew and sing. And we could swim nude in some unnamed
lake in the Canadian boreal forest. Like Adam and Eve but no fig leaf. Good idea, Alan….
Marjorie prepared for a honeymoon on Cape Cod but the real place chosen was
the Bahamas. We had a great time but ran out of money in four days so came
home earlier. I worked for 3 months to pay for the honeymoon but it was gone
in four days. We didn’t care….we were married.
alan skeoch
NEXT EPISODE # 694 MY LAST TWO JOBS…AGAWA CANYON, Ontario, and OPEN PIT MINE MERRITT, British Columbia