Ol' Sam. A Work in Progress.: History Adventure.

Photos.

Fri, 31 Aug 2007 18:13:05 GMT

I added a couple of photo albums today.

Cheers.

Franklin Thoughts...Addendum

Tue, 31 Oct 2006 23:28:54 GMT

Yes, wasn't it Schwatka who noted map discrepancies, of up to 70 miles in the Frankilin Era maps of King William Land? I'm sorry, but I don't remember where I got that map. Obviously from a book I read, but I can't remember which one. I'll have a look around in my 'library' and see if it's one I have or one I borrowed. I've attached the complete map this time, perhaps there are clues to be had from it.

Did I ever mention to you that, lost one March night, I/we stumbled across two non-native graves in the pitch dark in the vicinity of Mt Matheson near Gjoa Haven, KWL. NU.? Both graves had headstones, the Eskimo guides I had with me knew nothing about the graves. Both graves were engraved but were literally miles and miles from anywhere. We had run out of fuel for our Coleman lanterns, and were in a bit of bother, so I didn't have time to examine them properly or really take note of any details. It seems to me I may have asked George Porter about the graves. If he had known anything about them he would have told me and, the discovery was such a startling midnight event, I would have remembered what he said. I've always wondered about those graves. Who, when and why would someone go to all that trouble in such an out of the way location?(rhetorical)

Thoughts on Franklin.

Tue, 31 Oct 2006 00:31:12 GMT

Because of my connection to King William Island and Gjoa Haven NU., I'm fascinated by the Franklin mystery. I have read a lot of books about it, an old northern friend and I exchange ideas and theories about it to this day. Yesterday while checking photo's on my hard drive I came across a copy that I'd saved, of an old map , (copy attached). As I idly glanced at it I was struck by sometime that seemed glaringly obvious. I quickly e-mailed my old buddy:

"The light dotted line is the original theoretical drift of the ships. The heavy dotted line is mine. I wonder why and who decided that the ships drifted around/along the coast, isn't it more logical to assume, driven by ice, the ships ran aground fairly early? I'm thinking that the wreck of either or both of the ships in either or both of the two bays I circled would tend to explain why there was a preponderance of artifacts found in both areas? Perhaps the boys, dragging whale boats as they went, stayed close to the drifting ships, following them along the coast line, then when they saw the last one (Erebus) finally wreck around Erebus Bay, ( I wonder why it's called Erebus Bay?) they gave up hope and cut across Cape Crozier to Terror Bay. But they didn't all cut across Cape Crozier, someone (Schwatka?) found and buried a skeleton (Crozier?) and a 'tent place' was located there.

Perhaps they could still see the Terror far out to sea and followed it until it drifted out of sight around Cape Crozier then towards Cape Grant on the Adelaide. The last place they could see it from was Terror Bay. Who named the two bays in question, John Rae?

This might explain why they hung around in the area for so long and why it took the survivors so long to move eastward, and the depots of supplies and why they were hauling all that otherwise useless stuff, they were hoping to re-board one, both or either of the ships. My guess, after they saw the ships were lost to them forever, the few survivors continued east along the south coast in the hope of finding succor in any Inuit camps they came across. Another big but, I wonder why they didn't cut across the Simpson Strait at its narrowest point? Fall ice conditions, weather? Could they perhaps have been keeping in sight of the last ship, as it was pushed eastward though the Simpson straight, by wind, tide and ice. But why the Todd Islets?

And another bit snipped from an earlier e-mail:

I have always, thought of Franklin, and his previous exploits proved, as him being out of his element and way past his 'best before' date. Franklin was a figure head, but his men looked up to him, when he died, after being trapped in the ice for two years, it was game over as a cohesive group:

He died, they buried him at sea, command and control was lost, a virtual mutiny ensued, the expedition disintegrated into 'factions' under Gore, Crozier and Fitzjames, even into ones and two's; different groups wandered off in different directions at different times. Scared of hanging, these stragglers destroyed cairns, records and evidence of the mutiny as they went south, some ate each other, then they all died. John Rae was sent to 'clean up' and the Admiralty will never admit the truth.

Enigmatic inscription on either Torrington or Harkness or the third man's grave, words to the effect of, "Gods knows what you did and only he will forgive you."

And another on the note in the Cairn. "....Deaths to date: 16 officers, 9 other ranks....."

Why the disproportionate death ratio of officers to men, and what did the other unfortunate sailor on Beechy do to incur such a cruel epigram? I think mutiny was afoot.

I can never keep the names of all the players straight. In the search that followed, I'm constantly at a loss to say who did what, when and where.

So, this morning I went looking for Erebus Bay images on Google and of course landed on your Franklin Trail page again. I started reading about the tent rings etc on the west coast of KWL. You indicate quite a few are contemporary with Franklin, but as you point out, the area is generally not good for either hunting or fishing. I'm kinda wondering if the wrecks and trail of detritus left by the retreating crews down the west coast, would perhaps have acted as a magnet to a lot of Inuit from all over the central Arctic? I'll bet the area got a lot of 'visitors', way more than anyone, even Hall, were led to believe.

To my total surprise and delight I also noticed, during your 1995 expedition that someone had found what they assumed to be bit of a shipwreck. Erebus Bay is apparently of shallow bottom. Grounded and pushed shoreward by tremendous ice pressures, it's no wonder only bits of a 'wreck' were found.

I guess there was never enough left of the discovered human remains on KWL to perform proper autopsies or discover overlooked projectile points? Dirty deeds done dirt cheap, when the lost expedition became a cause celeb, everyone dispersed, threw away what was too bulky to carry and clammed-up.

Then there's Otzie, the Iceman found in the Alps with the projectile point in his back. Among Inuit of the time, a lone stranger without benefit of any obvious kin would be in serious jeopardy of losing his life for his possessions. It's why wives were shared, to make you kin and forestall vendetta. Remembering what happened to Custer and his men at LBH, perhaps some of the cut marks found on the bones are not all evidence of cannibalism, perhaps some indeed, are evidence of murder.

Recent research, conversations and just plain logic now leave me of the opinion that a few of the survivors may indeed have attempted to retrace their southward journey back North in the direction they originally came from. It makes sense, to try and go back the way they came. They did have whaleboats, how many were saved from the Erebus and Terror is an unknown. Some members of the beset crews could have crossed from King William Land to the Boothia Peninsular in the hopes of retracing their journey, back to Lancaster sound. On the attached map there is a notation of a 'relic' being discovered near Kent Bay on Boothia. Who found it and what and when it was found I can't guess. Unfortunately a recent expedition to search the west coast of Boothia produced no other evidence to the effect of their passing. None the less, the intriguing possibility exists.

I know, it's all argle, gargle, google, goop. But I did have fun with it.

Here is a link to "The Franklin Trail", webpage: http://www.netscapades.com/franklintrail/index.htm

Icemannwt.

Yellowknife of Yore.

Thu, 29 Dec 2005 18:16:39 GMT

Just like last year and thirty years before that, we have no plans for New Years. Never could get too excited about it. Funny, but I was never able to get my head around why peeps make such a big deal out of New Years. For instance, I married the woman I love in 1982, so in 1983 am I supposed to be glad 1982 is over? But wait a minute, could it be, people are really celebrating the fact that all the expensive Christmas bullship, is finished for another 12 months? Don't get me wrong, I'm happy as the next person to wish you Happy New Year and see your smiling face. Hmmm, just thinking out loud.........

I'm sitting here thinking about the NWT Picnic and how every time I go, I'm disappointed for some reason and come away feeling empty, dejected, and swearing that's the last one I'll ever go to. But, the people who do go, are Yellowknife, aren't they? I mean that was the town in the 60's & 70's. Yellowknife was a differnt and special place in those days, by the mid 80's, it was gone.

Yellowknife was hard core, hard rock, hard working, hard people. Yellowknife celebrated the cold in winter, the bugs in summer. Yellowknifers didn't whine about either. Yellowknife was tight, a few people didn't like each other but still wouldn't leave each other stuck in the ditch halfway to Ft. Rae. Freeze-up was great, the isolation was great. No ferry equalled no Southerners.

There were no Buffalo, Grizzly Bears or Coyotes and no big fence around the airport. PWA didn't even fly jets, they had DC-3's -4s -6's, a C-46 and perhaps even a big Stranraer Flying Boat.

I can picture Morning Mary, behind the desk in the Old YK Inn, I see the big thermometer on the corner of The Bank of Nova Scotia across from Sutherland's Drugs, on New Year's 1967 it reads, -55°F. In 1966, I could have bought a decent house for less than $4,000.

I remember, the quiet and stillness around The Rock on a summer evening. A quiet and stillness only disturbed by the whine of mosquitos or the buzz and snap of an Otter, Beaver or Cessna taking off, the gentle ticking of a cooling radial aero engine at the Gateway dock. I remember Squeek.

I still remember the first time I drove out the Prelude road, I had a Princess from Akaitcho Hall with me, there was one set of tracks in the snow on the road ahead, I got nervous at Madeline Lake and turned around. Next summer I was amazed by the surrounding beauty of the drive down the hill to Prelude and Schoenne's place. On the road to Prelude there were so many rabbits, we shot them by the potatoe sack full and our German landlady made rabbit stew for us.

I remember the great beach at Niven Lake and the kid's slide into the water and the wading pool and park where City Hall is now. I remember when Franklin Ave was paved with that blue/grey crushed rock-waste from the mines, it still had small amounts of gold and plenty of Arsenic. I remember the dust.

I'm having a vision of Sophie Football, cursing and swearing at the top of her lungs, chasing some unfortunate drunken miner what done her wrong, round and round, in and out and through the Drug Store doors. I can see myself one spring evening, wheeling a very inebriated and passed out member of The Post Office Gang, out the front door of the YK Inn, on a hand dolly and dumping her on the sidewalk.

I can remember filing out a slip, then standing in line for a bottle in the old Liquor Store behind the Bay. The bars closed for 2(?) hours over supper time. The stuffed Polar Bear. I remember when Con and Giant bunkhouses were the ultimate dens of iniquity. The REAL Caribou Queen, the Singing Swede, Luigi Baldasso; Tommy Balsllie, no fingers, his greasy Elvis hair and his comb. 3 Finger Louis Lockhart.... "Psst. Hey Jonas, you got a smoke?" Stu Demelt..Hire North..no problem. Andew Smith. Ron & Grace were celebrities. Ron had the cleanest car in town. :-)

Cheers.

Turnback.

Wed, 07 Dec 2005 20:28:15 GMT

For centuries, long before Canada was a nation, there was a strongly held belief in an ice free, navigable, passage across the top of the N. American continent. This was the fabled Northwest Passage.
Spend more than a couple of days, perhaps as little as a couple of hours North of 60° and you're bound to hear the name Franklin.
Many and varied were the explorers and seamen sent out by the British, in an attempt to discover and navigate this mythical waterway. Perhaps the most famous or well remembered individual to try was Sir John Franklin. He and all his approximately 120 men died in the attempt, stranded on the west coast of King William Land, some time between 1847 and 1851.
I heard rumours of Franklin in Rankin Inlet, but then when I landed in Taloyoak (Spence Bay) and Gjoa Haven, I found myself firmly in the center of Franklin country. In 1963 there were people alive who's grandparents or other relatives had witnessed the tragic demise of that sorry band of doomed men.
The disappearance of Sir John and all his men was often discussed, theories and tales frequently recounted. Interested enough to have my own ideas and read a dozen books on him, but not fascinated enough to keep track of all the details, over the years and through my eventual move to Yellowknife, Franklin's story became part of my general northern experience.
Years before his final fatal voyage, Franklin and his trusted Lieutenant, Geo. Back, spent a year or two farting around on the North Shore of Great Slave Lake. In an abortive attempt to reach the Arctic Ocean and Northwest Passage by an overland route, from the Yellowknife in the west to the Lockhart in the east, they went up and down just about every river running into the East Arm of Great Slave Lake.
All of these rivers with the exception of the Lockhart are short and steep, have many rapids and are subject to considerable, seasonal, water level fluctuation. One of the rivers they unsuccessfully tried to navigate, was the Beaulieu. After some untoward incident or misadventure befell them on a certain lake, they turned around and went back down the Beaulieu to Great Slave. They named the lake they retreated from, Turnback Lake.
Living in Yellowknife for twenty plus years, hearing and reading the Franklin stories, I became very interested in visiting Turnback Lake. One factor reinforcing my interest was the fact, the then, world record, Arctic Grayling, had been caught at the mouth of the Beaulieu. If there was one world record in that river system, perhaps there were more.
Turnback Lake is a decent size, not far from Yellowknife as a DeHaviland single Otter flies and the Beaulieu runs into and out of it. Besides, Turnback wasn't visited very often and, if nothing else, it appeared big enough to provide some decent trout fishing.
In the summer of '81 my wife, two other couples and myself chartered a plane, packed a couple of Zodiacs and all our camping gear into it and flew out to Turnback.
It turned out to be less than a great fishing trip, the Grayling were small and the trout few and less than trophy size. We did however have a very nice camping spot, by the lake, close to its exit rapids. Of course being close to fast water like that, the Blackflies were thick and a nuisance. Despite bugs bad enough to require the use of head nets, we spent several very enjoyable days there.
One afternoon, after having spent several hours boating around in circles, catching not much, for something different I decided to see how far up the river at the north end, we could get before we hit falls or rapids. Not far as it turned out, but at about the spot we turned round it was decided that we'd make pit stops so the girls could get on shore to stretch their legs and conduct their business. I looked around and spotted a likely landing. Beaching the boats on the rocks below the rapids and climbing ashore, everyone went off in different directions to do their thing in private.
A short distance from the boat I found a good spot for a whiz. Finishing and zipping up my pants I looked down and to my surprise I noticed I'd just emptied my bladder into an ancient fire ring of rounded stones. By the amount and age of some moss and lichens growing on the stones, immediately I recognized how old the fire ring was. It was old! I guessed, about a hundred and fifty years old. As I stood there thinking about who could have built it. I had two revelations.
I seriously doubt it was constructed by natives. My Dene brothers, would seldom if ever, have gone to that much trouble, it was too tidy and symmetrical by far. On the other hand, it was just the sort of thing a couple of Royal Navy officers would have had their men construct at a camp or rest stop.
There is the distinct possibility this ancient fire ring was a relic from Franklin/Back's expeditions and may even be, dare I say, the exact spot at which, they had turned back? To this day, I'm still thrilled by the idea and half convinced it's true. Why not, they turned back somewhere in the vicinity? That spot, just below the first rapids north of the lake, seems as good a spot as any.
In my mind I picture the scene, the RN officers in their finery, waving their arms about and pointing (whitemen do that), a vigorous discusson.......while a descision is reached, their tired, wet and ragged crew, sitting around smoking their pipes by the smouldering fire, tortured by Black Flies, whale boats pulled up on the rocks or bobbing in the current nearby, a couple of Dene guides......
I wish I'd thought to snap a picture. I'm intrigued by the idea of what a metal detector might have found in the surrounding bush.
Oh, and before you go getting all squinchy eyed at me, I/we left it untouched, undisturbed, except for the bit I pee'd on, exactly as I found it.

My second revelation? Well, if it looks like a good location, landing, trail, camp, etc. to you. It has most certainly looked the same to someone else in the recent or distant past.
In that unlikely, out of the way spot on the Beaulieu, that day I came to this conclusion. There are very few places if any, left on this earth, where someone hasn't been before you.
No stone unnoticed, no path untrodden! My years of tramping around in the northern bush and on the Arctic tundra have done little to disuade me from that conclusion.