Ol' Sam. A Work in Progress.

Blackflies and Mosquitoes.

Fri, 04 Jul 2008 17:32:34 GMT

Reading a discussion board this morning,

http://friendswithoutborders.yuku.com/directory

I noticed a couple of entries mentioning biting bugs in the North. Below for your entertainment, is a response I posted.

Jordan, you didn't mention that bull-dogs (moose/horse/deer flies) actually take a chunk of flesh outa ya. The mosquitoes can get bad enough to stampede a herd of caribou. In fact they constantly do.............

If you park on the causeway at the river at Ft Providence to wait for the ferry, the downwind side of your vehicle will literally be black with Blackflies while the upwind side will be clean as a baby's whistle. Mosquitoes bites, one can get used to, almost. Blackflies are the scourge of the north. Blackflies breed, hatch and hang around running water, definitely.

In Yellowknife, just when one thought it safe, bugless, I've seen blackflies re-emerge after the first snow of fall, melts. Fortunately, I'm allergic to blackfly, mosquito and other biting/stinging insect bites & stings, so I always end up with beautiful itches, lumps and swellings. Blackfly bites are the worst for me, I get golf ball size lumps. Even up to a month later, old bites will flare up and itch like a bastard all over again, certainly.

"Deep Woods Off" applied /sprayed directly to the face and exposed skin is a miracle. Pre-contact, how the natives lived without bug protection chemicals is a wonderment. The early explorers, Hudson's Bay Co. men etc., deserved medals for bravery by just continuing into bug infested lands. The best they had was stuff called citronella or kerosene... neither very affective. Head nets are a true inconvenience, specially for a smoker.

Outdoors, exposing ones nether regions for any purpose, but mainly to perform the bodily functions of waste elimination, procreation etc. etc., can scar ones psyche and other soft bits for life. "Deep Woods Off" burns exposed mucus membranes. It's a rock and a hard place, I tell ya. Goodness gracious, Gerry Lee Lewis was absolutely correct!

The bug repelling qualities of a campfire/smoke myth, is exactly that, a myth. People believe it, want to believe it and light fires in the forlorne hope that it's true, it'll keep the bugs away. Biting bugs are actually attracted by campfires, cigarettes, pipes and joints, obviously. Lots of people (giant blood bags) stand/sit around campfires, flapping their arms, coughing, waiting to get bitten, eyes watering. Campfires emit a localized plume of movement, carbon dioxide and infra red, all three cues, biting blood sucking insects, use to home in on their intended prey, a fact.

1963. One breezy evening after work in Taloyoak (Spence Bay) NU. I decided to walk out to Middle Lake to do a little trout fishing. I'd walked for about an hour and was approaching the lake when the wind dropped to nothing, instantly, with every step I took, a cloud of mosquitoes rose from the low scrub of the tundra and headed for my face. Oh the humanity! I'd forgotten to bring or prespray myself with bug dope.

I had a ball cap on my head, but no hood on my jacket. Immediately my head, face and neck were surrounded by a biting, buzzing cloud of blood thirsty insects, naturally. Within 5 minutes they had me running crazily across the barren lands yelling, waving my hands and arms and dodging my own fish hook which seemed to mirror my hand and arm movements and seemed determined to rip off my hat, catch in my clothing or lodge in my eye, short term insanity began to rear it's ugly head.

But wait, what's that? I smell smoke. Smoke means people in the vicinity. Two million square miles of emptiness and I'd found someone. Undoubtedly, they would have bug dope! Three of the local Inuit boys were also out fishing that night and had stopped to light a fire and brew some tea. "Hello Agliqti, want some tea?', they asked as I charged up to them. "OK, but do you have any "Off", I forgot mine." "No, we forgot ours too." was the laughing response. With only their faces exposed they were wearing the hooded outer, Grenfell cloth, covers from their winter parkas and gloves for protection. I was almost at the point of berserk.

From somewhere, someone produced a bit of extra cloth, handy. There was just enough of it to fashion a basic head covering, enough to cover my neck and ears leaving only a small piece of my face exposed. My hands were naked, one hand carried my fishing rod, in the other I carried a .22 rifle, ducks dontchano?

Forget fishing, hands in my armpits I sat around the smudge in the bugs with the boys for a little while drinking tea, then headed back to the settlement. My only itch relief on the way home was to stop at a puddle or small lake occasionally and plunge my hands into near freezing water By the time I got home that night my swollen hands and face were on fire and covered in mud, and blood from squashed mosquitoes. My hands itched for a week after.

For the next 26 years, I never again forgot my bug dope when venturing out in the 'bush'. I've always been surprised by how quickly I succumbed to virtual craziness and running that night.

Ice Road Blues.

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 16:59:07 GMT

With my apologies to the Eagles.

All alone at the end of the Highway
The Aurora has faded to blue
I bin thinking 'bout a woman who might have
Loved me and I never knew
You know I've always been a dreamer
(spent my life running 'round)
And it's so hard to change
(Can't seem to settle down)
But the dreams I've seen lately
Keep on turning out and burning out
And turning out the same

So put me on an Ice Road
And show me a sign
And take it to the limit one more time

You can spend all your time making money
You can spend all your love making time
If it all fell to pieces tomorrow
Would you still be mine?

And when you're looking for your freedom
(Nobody seems to care)
And you can't find the door
(Can't find it anywhere)
When there's nothing to believe in
Still you're coming back, you're running back
You're coming back for more

So put me on an Ice Road
And show me a sign
And take it to the limit one more time

Take it to the limit
Take it to the limit
Take it to the limit one more time.

Life Change.

Wed, 09 Apr 2008 20:02:45 GMT

On March 1st '08, I applied two Nicoderm patches (21mg & 14mg) to my arm and stopped smoking. I've gone from 35 cigs a day to zero. Since then I've gradually reduced my patch usage to a single 21mg diamond Nicoderm patch. I shall wear a 21mg patch for as long as it takes for me to stop thinking about smoking a cig. I may reduce eventually to 14mgs.

So far, I notice some small personality changes. Gone is the tolerant, long suffering, easy going nice guy. In his place there is someone not quite a tolerant or sympathetic of your silly whining. The old Iceman of 30 years ago is simmering just below the surface...............however, I'm aware now of his existence and keep a close watch on him.

To date my extremely painful mouth cankers have not reappeared, a thing they have usually done instantly in the past whenever I've quit or tried to quit smoking.

At night I don't fall asleep as easily as I used to and if woken up, it seems like I have a bit or a hard time going back to sleep. The wild erotic dreams I had the first few nights when I first wore the patch, have to my chagrin, abated, however I still dream much more vividly than before I applied the patch. Every other night or so I dream I'm smoking a cigarette. When I have a smoking dream I'm pissed off in the dream that I'm smoking.

I keep a pack of Frisk Micro Mints handy and pop one when the old urge comes over me. They distract me instantly. Except..............yesterday I popped a mint in my mouth and promptly, automatically started reaching around for my lighter.

Even taking into account the cost of the patches, I'm saving in excess of two hundred dollars a month. Plus, I no longer cough my innards out when laughing at a joke or stringing more than six words together.

During the normal course of my day, I do not think much about smoking a cigarette.

Hopefully I'll never smoke another cigarette in my life.

Thank you for your support.

Cheers.

Straight Shooter.

Thu, 28 Feb 2008 00:32:41 GMT

I just stood there looking cute and when something moved, I'd shoot.

Truck driver deaths on the Ice Road.

Sat, 23 Feb 2008 16:59:06 GMT

Once and for all, let's set the record straight. Although "Ice Road Truckers" implies the number is 39, in reality, since the Ice Road(s), west between Yellowknife and Echo Bay Mines on Great Bear Lake, and East, between Yellowknife and the Diamond Mines (Ekati, Diavik and Snap Lake etc) were constructed, from about 1973 to the present day (June 2008), there have been NO truck driver deaths directly contributed to hauling freight on those Ice (Winter) Roads.

Since 1973, there have been three, and only three, deaths associated with the construction of said Road(s). One death of a grader operator, one death of a plow truck driver, and one death of a snocat operator (who subsequently died of heart failure after being rescued). Tragic accidents though they were, all three fatalities happened during the construction phase, before the Road was opened to heavy truck traffic.

Contrary to the "Ice Roads Truckers" series produced by the US History Channel, the job is neither a 'Job to Die For' nor 'A Dash for Cash'! No actual truck drivers on the Ice (Winter) Road have died by breaking through the ice!

I know this is like barking up a dead horse's ass, but I had to post it anyway.

Cheers.

Sam.

Fishin Magician.

Wed, 20 Feb 2008 18:34:54 GMT

Well, a lovely day in the mountains again. Got to Osprey Lake shortly after 10, stayed til 3pm. I saw a few right Trout off the bat, then it got real slow for a while. When they came around, they'd look at my bait and keep going, I tried everything I had with me but they just weren't interested in biting it. So finally I dropped my flasher into the mud and did a bit of digging with it. Suddenly the bottom was crawling with Trout (small, medium and large), they really wanted to see what was going on. I'd dig, then lift my flasher up out of the mud cloud so they could see my bait.

Maggots, meal worms, rubber worms, plain jigs.....they still wouldn't bite. "Alright, fekk you guys, lets try this!" thinks I, slipping on my crawdad (Yabi pattern). Well, they went nuts for it and I caught two in short order. I'da caught more if the hook size had been smaller. That was around 2pm, after I caught the two the rest kinda lost interest and buggered oft, I lost interest at 3 and came home. But it sure was fun for a while watching the goings on down in the mud. I saw a couple of two to three pounders but always seemed to have Mr. Crawdad in the wrong spot when the big ones went by. I shall go again t'morra. I'm going to order some small rubber crawdads from the Fishin Hole this morning.

Jake!

Wed, 13 Feb 2008 19:48:35 GMT

Speaking of soot bombs. Ho-ho, don't let this happen to you.

One spring we were re-surfacing the gravel on the highway between Ft Rae/Edzo. Four or five tractors with belly dumps. There was an eighty five mile drive between Yellowknife and the gravel pit we were to haul from. We used the old Ft Byers as our staging and parking area. To save fuel and time Dick R had rented a house for us in Edzo, about sixty five miles from Yk. The house was completely unfurnished, we slept on foamies on the floor and ate standing up. We were working 72 hour weeks, Sunday was our day off. Actually 72 hour driving weeks, after we'd finishied hauling each day, we'd spend a couple of hours each evening fixing tires by hand, (that's why I hate 'Bud' wheels). The trucks were getting paid by the ton/miles, Dick, very generously I thought, was paying us 50% of what the truck made.

I was very proud of the truck I was driving, it was a one year old, 1975, long frame Kenworth with a great big honkin' 350 Cummins. New to the company it had the biggest power in the fleet. I was tickled pink when Dick came and said he wanted me to drive it.

Edzo was/is a bedroom community for Ft Rae, (any northerners reading this will find that very funny). There is/was absolutely nothing to do in Edzo, at that time it didn't even have a corner store or gas station. I think, it has a golf course now. The road contract was from the government, they didn't work Sundays, so neither did we. Sundays were very boring, nothing to do except fix more tires and tinker with the truck.

The July long weekend rolled around and the job was shut down from Saturday night til Tuesday morning. Wow, two days off! We had water trucks working with us to keep the gravel workable and the dust down, our trucks were getting very dirty. I decided to go to town (Yk) for some much needed R&R , and some service on the truck. Still basically in its infancy RTL didn't even have a proper wash rack. On Sunday after the truck had been serviced I decided to take it down town and use one of the commercial wash racks there.

A quarter went a long way in a wash rack in those days, but it still cost me three or four bucks and a couple of hours to get all the mud off and get that old KW sparkling again like new. The wash rack had a roof over it but was open at each end. I even had an audience, some of the local 'truck groupies' came and watched.

Cuties! Oh wow, I was strutting around like a rooster. So, proud as Punch I got ol' # 16 all shiny and looking like new again. She was a beaut!

They say, 'pride go-eth before a fall'..... Finished (not), forgetting I'd left the 'jake brake' in the on position when I shut her off, I hopped in the cab and started her up ! As soon as I took my foot off the pedal the 'jake' barked (all three banks), startling my groupies into giggles, and instantly filling the inside of the wash rack with diesel smoke and a huge cloud of tiny, black soot particles! My wash job was ruined, those little black soot particles of course stuck like glue to every part of the truck that was still wet! Mortified and pretending I'd meant to do that .................. I had to wash the whole top side of the truck again. Those little diesel soot particles are a bugger! They stick where they land and, if you touch them with a rag they just smear. It was past supper time and another four bucks, before I got the truck cleaned up again. My groupies for some reason, had lost interest and were long gone.

Oh the Humanity!

See what I mean?

Fri, 08 Feb 2008 16:46:15 GMT

From CJCD Radio in Yellowknife. Feb 8th. '08.

Deh Cho Bridge Still Under Fire.
Kam Lake MLA Dave Ramsay is perhaps the most consistent critic of the Deh Cho Bridge process, specifically the cost and the perceived lack of consultation. Now, Hay River South MLA Jane Groenewegen is jumping on the bandwagon. She's wondering why there's been very little information provided to members of the Legislature and even went so far as to consider tabling a motion to kill future legislation on the project altogether. "This project is calling for $2,000,000 a year, at least indexed, over 35 years, plus $750,000 per year in administration to collect the tolls. Can we put a motion in the House to kill the legislation today? You said we could've done it in the last Government to remove the legislation from the books. What about a vote now?" Premier Floyd Roland says that simply can't happen. "The facts of the 16th Assembly making a motion to get rid of that Act would place us in a higher liability or risk mode because agreements are out there, concession agreements are in place, they're meeting their targets, and the liability would go beyond our loan guarantee of $9,000,000." Groenewegen now says she doesn't support the bridge whatsoever

A long and winding road.

Wed, 06 Feb 2008 16:24:58 GMT

Hmmm, it'll be a real challenge building this one and very expensive. I can see moving the Winter Road off Marian Lake, but building an all weather road into these tiny settlements won't happen in my lifetime. I mean they still can't come up with the will, money or consensus to put a bridge over the Mackenzie River at Ft Providence.

New routes for Tlicho winter road considered.

Last Updated: Wednesday, February 6, 2008 | 9:51 AM CT

CBC News

The Northwest Territories government is asking people in Tlicho communities for help on picking a new route for the region's winter road.
The current ice road crosses frozen lakes, rivers and ponds as it snakes its way north from Behchoko (Rae-Edzo) to the communities of Gameti (Rae Lakes), Whati (Lac La Marte) and Wekweeti (Snare Lake).
Generally, it is open for two to three months every winter, and about 1,000 people rely on it for their groceries, supplies and fuel. Many of those people are concerned that climate change will affect their supply line.
"People have been talking about it for a long, long time. They want to have an all-weather road," Gameti Chief Henry Gon told CBC News on Tuesday.
"The weather has changed a lot and it's affecting the ice on the winter road."
People in the Tlicho region have been calling for an all-season road since 2001.

N.W.T. Transportation Department officials say they first want to move the existing winter road route onto solid ground, making the ice-road season a month or two longer each year until an all-weather road can be built.

Over the summer, department staff conducted engineering and environmental studies to figure out what their options are. Those options were shown to residents in a government information session held in Whati on Tuesday evening.
"I think what we're going to be trying to get as much as possible is a fair bit of traditional knowledge. People that live there obviously know quite a bit more about the land than we might here in Yellowknife," said Michael Conway, the department's North Slave regional superintendent.
"[We're] looking at things like river crossings and creeks and high water marks and all those types of things that affect where we might put a route one day."
Conway said he plans to gather information and feedback from across the Tlicho region over the next couple months, hopefully whittling down a list of possibilities to two or three workable options for the new winter road route.
Moving the winter road could take three to five years, he said.

Global Warming.............me arse!

Sat, 26 Jan 2008 19:50:50 GMT

Thursday: Jan. 24th. '08. The thermometer on my deck this morning indicated -18°C when I got up at 06:00. Oh Man!! Driving up the Trout Creek road it got colder and colder! Just before we came out of the canyon shadow, Mark's truck said it was -26°C! (-12°F). At Link Lake, at dawn it had warmed up a bit, to only -20°C. We fished til 12:30 and only saw 3 fish all morning. Didn't even get a bite. It was/is still -8 at Link when we left and when we got back down here. F-E-K-K! Cold.

Those are the coldest temps I've seen in the Okanagan, since we moved here 20 years ago.

http://www.theweathernetwork.com/index.php?product=weather&placecode=cabc0282

Lac La Marte.

Mon, 21 Jan 2008 17:49:19 GMT

I like Flats, vans/boxes... not so much. Never hauled steel coils, but I have hauled, insulated and wrapped steel pipe, and galvanized culverts (small nested into large). Both were a challenge to secure and get to stay on the deck. Culverts especially when nested. They like to walk ahead or backwards, they sorta unscrew, each must be secured separately. Boxes usually involve 'inside' work by the driver. One winter I got elected to haul a box of groceries and misc school supplies into Lac La Marte, a small native settlement on a side road west, off our main winter road. Thirty years ago, La Marte resembled one of those old towns you see in Westerns. Newer buildings, some log cabin and shacks......but one 'street', houses along each side, a church and a school at one end....no other infrastructure, replace horses with dogs and you get the picture.

There were three or four of us, I forget exactly how many, in our little convoy or what the others guys were hauling. For sure one would have had a 5000 gal. tank of diesel. We arrived early on a Saturday or Sunday morning after having driven all night over a very rough, mostly portage, access road. No one was in their 'happy place'. We drove up the middle of the street and stopped, expecting someone (perhaps the settlement manager!), to come out and at the very least, say hello. Even though we could see the occasional window curtain twitch, not a soul appeared, not even the local Catholic priest.

None of us had been there before, no one knew what building to deliver our loads to or even where to ask. We waited for a polite length of time to give folks time to get dressed and used to our presence, but still no one appeared. After an hour, in exasperation a couple of us laid on our air-horns. It was like a ghost town, still no one came out to greet us.

Ok, what the hell are we going to do with these loads? How the heck will we get these loads off the trailers? Even if I knew where to take them, how am I going to unload a van full of groceries by myself? By now it was obvious that the locals were deliberately ignoring us and hiding in their homes coz they didn't want to work helping us unload 'their' supplies. Lazy bunch of bastards! Now I was seriously pissed-off. What to do? Well I knew what I was going to do...... my load was palletized.

Getting out, grabbing several lengths of chain and walking to the back of my van I opened the doors. I looped one chain end through a pallet and got the driver behind me to pull up close enough to hook the other end of the chain onto his bumper hook. Getting back in my rig I pulled ahead a bit til the guy behind blew his horn, and in my mirrors I could see boxes come flying sideways behind my rig. We repeated this process up the street till my van was empty. Every time a pallet of goods came out, it hit the ground hard and spilled its contents all over the place, boxes of groceries, school tables and chairs from one end of the street to the other. What a mess, it was going to take quite some time and amount of hand 'bombing' to clean it up. We were mad and didn't care, we certainly weren't going to be the ones to do it. I think what made us the maddest was the rudeness. "That'll teach 'em to hide in their house and ignore us."

Somehow during the operation, by overextending it, I'd managed to pull the tendon off the last joint of the little finger of my right hand, it was swollen, throbbing, I couldn't bend it and of course kept banging it on everything. It still doesn't straighten properly.

I can't remember what the other guys were hauling or how they got their loads off , but I'm sure it wasn't a pretty operation. I think their loads must have been 'simple' ones. Whatever, by common consent as soon as I was unloaded, I jack-knifed my rig around in the street and got the hell outa there. I was expecting to get flack later, about how we unloaded my truck and what a mess we made, but curiously never a cross word was ever said.

Banana Tankers. Now there's a thing!

Why I wasn't here at 'work' yesterday.

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 19:25:11 GMT

Me and the Boys went fishing.

Quarter to eight as usual, we met at the A&W, John and I parked our trucks and piled in with Mark in his 4x4. A quick show of hands vote, and we headed up the backroad from Summerland to Princeton, destination Link Lake. Actually a destination vote wasn't really necessary, we'd been impressed by the size of the lunkers we saw last time we were at Link and all wanted to go back for another crack at them.

Having been ploughed and sanded within the last week, for a nice change, the road was in pretty good shape. 25K up and just before we got to the Trout Creek Ranch, John spotted a moose lying down in its bed close off the road. It was quite close to where we'd seen two of them on our last trip. We stopped and I took his photo, once again he wouldn't stick around to sign autographs. Just on the other side of the Ranch we saw another one, he stood til we stopped, then as I took photos, he began to amble away. He jumped over the fence, catching one hind leg on the top strand. He stood for a minute looking at us, then shaking it, got his leg off the wire and wandered away up the hill. Off we went again til just at the third bridge there was one more moose, for a total of three sightings that morning. That one saw us coming and all we saw of him was his arse end heading into the willows. No Picture.

We got to Link, unloaded our gear and walked down the hill to the lake. There was a lot more snow than a week ago. Perhaps a foot more. Walking along about a hundred feet out I could feel water below the snow under my feet. No worries, just hard walking through the overflow. The weight of the fresh snow on the ice, pushes it down forcing water up through any recently drilled fishing holes, of which there were several. It just doesn't get cold enough here for the temp under the snow to get low enough to re-freeze overflow.

Walking along we came across a recently drilled hole, it must have had a gusher because the snow and ice surrounding it were covered in 'scuds' (small fresh water shrimp). Hmmm, that didn't look good for our fishing. If there are that many scud around, there is no shortage of food for the fish to feeding on. John quickly drilled a hole close to the gusher, but hit lake bed right away so we kept walking.

We kept walking til we got out of the overflow and to the same location we were last time. Three holes were quickly drilled and we set up our 'blinds'. Perfect, we had four to six feet of water depth under about two feet of ice, a nice flat bottom with a low carpet of dormant weeds. Quite quickly we started seeing fish swim lazily by. Lazy is the word and no real big ones this time. They'd cruise by and if our hook was exactly at their nose level in front of them they might take a look at it or have a sniff. They definitely weren't too interested in feeding. Sometimes they'd mouth the bait, have a lick and immediately spit it out. They were not excited by what we were offering. Eventually, Mark found something that worked for about half an hour, catching three in that space of time, John managed to entice a keeper and I caught one little of that went back down the hole as soon as I got him off the hook. We fished til noon, seeing small schools swim by, then right when the solunar tables/calendar predicted a minor feed, they all disappeared. After that, except for a couple of 'minners', we didn't see a dang thing before we left to come home at two thirty.

Oh well, we had fun, no one got skunked and it turned into a beautiful day up there. The afternoon temp soared to a balmy +4°C and the sun shone for half the time. Bare handed all day, in my 'blind' it was warm enough, I took off my jacket. Due to a temperature inversion it was warmer on top of the mountains than it was down in the Okanagan Valley. Coming back down we could quite clearly see all the woodstove smoke and smog trapped under the warm air layer.

Next week the calendar/tables say, about four days of good fishing, so we'll be going up again for at least one of those days. I want to catch one of those six pounders we saw!

Passed away.

Fri, 11 Jan 2008 17:57:01 GMT

Sorry to say. This morning I received word that Paul Clark, my old friend and co-worker at RTL, passed away on Jan 3rd '08. Tuff as they come and a good friend, I'm sure Paul will be missed by all who knew him.

My condolences to his family.

Arctic Star Revisited. Worth a copy & paste.

Tue, 01 Jan 2008 22:29:52 GMT

It’s a small world and a long time ago, Hello,

When people say it’s a small world they’re not kidding. Let me explain.

A while back I was browsing the day’s news on the Internet and ran across a story on Yellowlnife. This was particularly interesting to me because many years ago, during the summer of 1967, I traveled from Minneapolis, MN to YK with my uncle. Our ultimate destination was Arctic Star Lodge where we planned to do a bit of fishing. After grabbing some lunch and taking a few pictures in town we boarded a de Havilland Twin Otter for a short flight to the lodge. I’ll never forget that flight because at the time I pretty much ate, breathed and slept airplanes and flying (I was 18 years old). This was my first flight in a sea plane and the fact that it was Twin Otter made it even more exciting. I remember sitting in the plane as people were coming aboard when I noticed a fellow who looked like he hadn’t shaven in a few days, wearing old blue jeans and a rather tattered shirt come on board. Most of the people on the plane were obviously business types, in spite of the fact that they tried to dress like outdoorsmen, so this guy stood out. He was the real deal. He kept coming in to the plane and then going back out again. This went on for quite a while and I thought maybe he was a mechanic, or a baggage handler. In any case I was anxious for the adventure to begin and to get into the air. The only thing that was missing was the pilot. A few more minutes passed and the gentleman returned once again. This time however, the door closed behind him as he continued up to the cockpit, took the left seat and began the start sequence on the two Pratt & Whitney’s! He didn’t look like any commercial pilot I’d ever seen! This was going to be fun!

We arrived at the camp without incident, got situated and then went to the main lodge where my uncle met and talked with the other guests. My uncle (and my father who was seriously ill at the time) were both small investors in the lodge and had made several trips to the area in the past and knew several of the repeat guests. I can’t remember any more, it’s been so long ago, but I think they became aware of the lodge and Bud Williams from a common friend who was a sports writer out of Minneapolis.

I remember that first night there was some problem with the power generators and Bud came by to see if my uncle could give them a hand in fixing it. My uncle, Sam H. along with my father Louis, owned an electronics business in Minneapolis. I guess Bud thought that his electronics knowledge might be of value. I don’t remember what the out come was, but I know we had power, so they must have gotten it fixed.

The next day we headed out on the lake with our guide with great expectations. Unfortunately, the fish had other ideas. We had some luck, enough for lunch, but not much else. In any case it was great fun. After we got back, uncle Sam and I did some hiking and looked around some old mining camps.

That afternoon, and here is where the world gets very small, my uncle decided that we might have better luck elsewhere. Elsewhere turned out to be Thelon. In your blog, for July 23, 2005 you wrote the following:

“One summer, during one week of slow fishing around the lodge, I was lucky enough, to be guiding a couple of well healed guests. This wasn't always the case, we had a lot of guests who had blown their annual vacation budget on a basic trip to Arctic Star. Anyway, that week my guys became a bit bored by the slow local fishing and decided to try a fly out trip. Fly outs, cost extra and were expensive and we didn't get one often. I was excited by the idea, my guests chosen destination was the Thelon River. “

Well, I suspect that we were the two “well healed guest” you wrote about! I’m not too sure about the “well healed” part, but we certainly were guests J I remember that trip well. For one thing I got to fly in another sea plane and the fact that it was a single engine made it even better! I also remember that the pilot had trouble breaking the surface tension of the calm water and after several attempts at take off, decided there was some problem that needed correcting. I seem to recall that Sam told me there was some issue with the quality of the fuel, even though, looking back, I doubt that was the cause. Most likely if it was a fuel issue, it was that we were carrying too much, but in any case we ultimately got under way.

I remember flying to Thelon thinking that if anything went wrong with the Beaver, we were in serious trouble. All I could see looking out the window was rock and water and not much in the way of emergency landing sites. When we landed and got out of the plane, I remember the white sand beach that separated the lake and the river. I also remember the mosquitoes; I don’t remember any fish, just the damn mosquitoes! Tired of not catching anything except mosquito bites, I wondered along the beach by myself and was struck by the pristine beauty. I also remember that lone caribou walking the beach and was amazed that he didn’t seem frightened. Even though I recall being by myself, reading your story makes me wonder if you and I might have been together at the time.

I also remember that the pilot took off and left us there for a while. If I recall correctly, he had gone off to photograph some abandoned Eskimo villages. I kept thinking to myself, that if something happened to him and he didn’t return, we were in serious trouble! Thelon was so remote that it made me both excited and at times apprehensive. I remember feeling relieved I heard the sound of the returning aircraft in the distance. I don’t remember too much about the return flight, but I do remember having the time of my life.

That was 40 years ago and to this day I’ve never experienced a better vacation. I often wondered what ever happened to the lodge (I guess it burned under somewhat suspicious circumstances) and the people that I met there. Finding your blog was like finding a time machine. It’s really strange when you think of the millions of blogs on the Internet, that I would run across yours. It truly is a small world!

After he retired, Sam spent many of his vacations at Tropic Star and the area surrounding it. He is now 94 years old and still lives in Minneapolis. I am recently retired after working for 35 years in communications engineering and live in Chicago. Oh, by the way, I did eventually get a pilots license including an endorsement for hot air balloons – I still love to fly!

Keep up the blog it’s great reading.

Take care,

Joel.

Morton Grove, IL

Wishes.

Mon, 31 Dec 2007 18:37:20 GMT

HAPPY NEW YEAR.

'Tis the Season.

Mon, 24 Dec 2007 21:12:53 GMT

Oil Patch Follies.

Fri, 21 Dec 2007 21:17:26 GMT

I'm posting some truck photos from the Oil Patch. I received them as an attachment to an e-mail. Where they originated or who took them I don't know. I certainly would give credit if I knew who took them. If they are yours and you object to my posting them please inform me and I will give credit or remove them as you wish.

Stuck! How about these for stuck?

Rat Tails.

Sun, 02 Dec 2007 18:19:19 GMT

Went to Osprey Lake yesterday on a calendar, half fish, day. Spent hours looking down an empty hole watching not much swim by. Mid day I think, a one pounder was stupid enough to bite my hook and get pulled into the tent where he flopped around, spilling my coffee and knocking my sausage roll down the hole..........in the end his willfulness cost him his life. I got one, John caught about four and Mark got skunked.

So prior to that, I'm sitting in my ice fishing tent playing 'Submarines' on my cell phone, suddenly, directly under the surface of the ice beneath my feet, I noticed a large dark object approaching my hole. First thought, 'large trout', second thought 'WTF!!!" Startled and resisting the almost overpowering urge to make large movements or sing out, I gently jiggled my hook and tried to stay very still. WTF again, not a fish at all, Mr. Muskrat blows a bubble then pops his nose up the hole. Eyeball to eyeball with me, he took a quick breath and a brief gander before diving down again and swimming away. He did this several times, once almost pulling himself up the hole and out of the water. We were face to face, not two feet apart. Very cool! For the full effect one must experience such an incident for oneself.

Fortunately, a couple of weeks ago, John had had mentioned that Muskrats were in the habit of doing this on Osprey, so I remembered and didn't crap my pants the first time Ratty popped up. John said, he'd had one do it to him one day when he wasn't in his tent but rather, was lying on the ice looking down face first with his head over top of his hole. Scared the shit out of him!

Man it was cold up there yesterday, light snow, watery sunshine, -12°C with a stiff breeze. Even in the tent it wasn't exactly comfortable. We were there from 09:00 til around 13:00, I had on, my forty below boots, the bottom half of my old Skidoo suit, plus a fuzzy fleece and heavy coat, but by the time we left my feet, hands and shoulders were getting very cold. By eight o'clock last night the top of my knees were still cold, in fact if I think about it, I can still feel the chill in them this morning.

Snowing this morning, -8°. Red screen, with a heavy snowfall warning for us, on the TV Weather Channel.

Fishing Interlude. 19/11/07

Mon, 19 Nov 2007 18:02:21 GMT

Yesterday. We were the first folks to have ventured out on Glen lake. There was only a little over two inches of ice, every time you moved you could hear and see, new cracks zipping away under your feet. Kinda scary, I didn't get more than 30 feet from shore. When I looked down into my ice hole, it didn't look like there was more than an inch of ice.

We had about three feet of water, then an unknown number of feet of weeds under that. Minus eight C, this morning, so it should be better if we go back towards the end of the week.

I was jiggling my hook, then put it down to get my tea, I looked up and my bobber was gone, I grabbed my rod and the fish just fekked off, pulling my drag. Great fun fighting it below the ice. Just before we were going to leave I got another one on about the same size, got him halfway out the hole and he got off. Gone! He came by, swallowed my bait and started to leave, I gave him a yank and pulled the hook out of his mouth, he kept the shrimp.

I kept jiggling and he turned round and took a swipe at my flasher, I jiggled again and he went for my naked glow hook, again I jerked it out of his mouth. Once more he returned, this time he bit my glow hook, I let him swim away before I jerked again and finally hooked him. Not well enough I'm afraid coz halfway out the hole he twisted off. I watched it all happen about a foot and a half right beneath my feet. Way Kewl!

I was using a little fluorescent pink glow hook with half a Safeway shrimp on it.

Did I take my camera? No........way to much fuss and bother and too heavy to carry. D'oh!! So I kept the one I caught, coz I wanted to bring him home for his photo op and he was so pretty I wanted M to see him too. He was the first Brookie I've caught in 55 years, I had no idea they were so purty! Had him for supper............tasted like dirt. I won't keep anymore from around here for eating, the lakes are too shallow and the fish all taste like mud. I though he was big enough to be different.

17.5"L. 10" around. 2.5 pounds.

Phone calls.

Sat, 10 Nov 2007 20:10:07 GMT

A Hard bunch of Guys. Credit must be given.

Here's an incomplete list of guys that worked with me, in the early to late '70s on RTL's Winter Road to Echo Bay mine on Great Bear Lake NWT. I may have forgotten some (I'm sorry if you are among them) Please feel free to refresh my memory.

- Five Warren Brothers: Billy (Bishop), Gerry, Johnny, Joe & Jimmy.

- Dave Thompson.

- Brian (McSnowWriter) McLeod.

- Mat King.

- John Soldat.

- Peter Paul.

- Buddy Mercredi.

- Ronny Coward.

- Paul Clark.

- Alex Debogorski.

- Sandy McPhee.

- Ronny McNab.

- Herb Bechdolt.

- Marty Bechdolt.

- John Denison

- John Jr. Denison

- Richard Denison.

- Stan Buck. (O/O).

- Denis Berg. (O/O)

- Bobby Fry. (O/O)

- Wayne Thompson. (O/O)

- Tim 'Newt' McNeil.

- Leroy and his brother Jimmy Mercerau

- Gord Weatherby & his younger brother.(first name escapes me)

- Marvin Robinson.

- Ricky Robinson.

- Lance Chamberlin.

- Daren Cranna.

- John Magrum. (Cook)

- Dave Lorenzen.

- Gerry Boudoin.

- Hugh & Phoebe Arden.

- Jimmy Arden.

- Louie Mackenzie.

- Larry Cooper.

- Ralph French.

- Ken Stubbs.

- Gerry French.

- Bob White.

Not all of the above participated every winter. Some no more than one year.

In the past week a couple of these guys have phoned me, Billy Bishop and Dave Thompson. Bishop disputes my location of Bishops Bath and Dave phoned to say hello and recall old stories. Some of Dave's stories include:

An abortive attempt to push the winter road up through the Dease Arm of GBL and on to Coppermine.

Getting his teeth knocked out by a flying load binder, then getting fired in the airport by Dick himself for leaving his machine and coming home on the plane. (Dick, at the time, not having understood the circumstances of Dave's return, later apologized and re-hired him).

Falling through the ice on a D-6 Cat while crossing Marian Lake. The blade hung up on the ice in front of him, but his seat was under water before he could even stand up. Then he had to crawl out of the water and walk a hundred yards soaking wet in -35 temps coz the (famous) guy that was following him in the Beaver, was too scared to drive any closer. How it took an hour to thaw before he could peel his soaked and frozen snow-suit off.

Getting stuck up to the truck seats, in the overflow water on Marian Lake. His (famous) passenger had to crawl back along underneath the flatbed trailer they were pulling with the bunkhouse on top,, so he could get inside and light a fire in the heater.

Breaking down and being stranded for four days at the north end of Hottah Lake. Sitting there reading and re-reading the same newspaper for four days, running out of food (Garlic sausage and Coke), - then being so close to running out of fuel, his truck quit as soon as its front wheels hit the front of the drop-down hi-boy that had been sent back with Herb to rescue him. That was on the last trip of the season, Dave was last truck on the ice that year. Nobody missed him for three days, then finally RTL took the plane out looking for him.

Seeing the flames and smoke in the sky from our burning bunkhouse. Then jumping on the Cat to push the burning shack off its sled so we could save our fuel supply.

Getting a new driving axel installed under the front of his 6x6 plow truck. Unfortunately the guys that installed it, put it on upside down so the front wheels turned one way (in reverse) while the back drivers spun the other (forward). Not discovering this amusing concept till he drove as far as he could into a snowbank, and engaging the front axel to test it and getting well and truely stuck as his wheels spun in oposite directions.

How he got his nickmname. (W-a C-s)

About the time: Bob White was traveling by himself, his fuel froze up, clogged the filters and his engine quit. He sat there for a long time waiting for someone else to come along. By the time they finally did, Bob had gotten so cold he was burning diesel fuel in an open can inside the cab to try and stay warm. His face was black, his hands were black, everything on him was black and the inside of the truck cab looked like a soot bomb had gone off in it.

And that's just a brief recounting of some of the stuff we reminisced about. We had a great laugh.

Perhaps one day, Dave will send me some of his pictures.

All the guys I listed above, have their own and similar stories to tell.

Photo Album: Link Lake BC. Jan 17. 08.

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 19:28:25 GMT

Link Lake BC. Jan 17. 08.

John & Fish Blinds.Link Lake. Jan.17.08.

John Fish #1.2.Link Lake. Jan.17.08.

John Fish#1.Link Lake. Jan.17.08.

Mark Fish#1.Link Lake. Jan.17.08.

MarkFish#2.Link Lake. Jan.17.08.

Trout Creek Moose#2.1. Jan.17.08.

Trout Creek Moose#2.2. Jan.17.08.

Trout Creek Moose#2.3.. Jan.17.08.

Trout Creek Moose. #1. Jan.17.08.