THE HIGH LINE

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This story was requested by Alex’s sister Sharon and also, by Owen my brother in law from Ohio, who just loved Alex’s life and story telling, and has often told us how he regretted not coming to Yellowknife to see us. This is a difficult one for me to share, because of the trauma I experienced on that very High mountain road in British Columbia, between Whistler and Lillooet. I have just spent an hour sitting in the lovely breeze under thick maple tree canopy deciding whether I would or not.

It starts back in Yellowknife.

In 1978, Alex bid for more tanks in the eastern Arctic, for the Government of the Northwest Territories and attended the bid opening and found out he was the lowest bidder. Now, his father died and after attending the funeral and returning to Yellowknife, he had an appointment with the purchasing department and found out they gave the job to a Calgary company. It was somewhat of a blow and after some time he realized his opportunities for business here was dependent on one customer, the government of NWT.

So by the next spring we were ready to head back to Edmonton. We asked Alex’s brother Daniel and his wife Janet, if they would drive our welding truck with some furniture, while we piled into our Motor Home that we traded our Suburban in for. When we got to Edmonton, we stored our truck with furniture and took on Daniel and Janet and went to see Victoria BC. Of course it was like a fantasy land, gardens, water falling from rock cuts, huge fir trees, blooming rhododendron, plus the ocean with all the gentle islands. Daniel and Janet flew back to Yellowknife .

We crossed on the ferry and headed north of Vancouver to Squamish and Alex saw a road that went beyond Whistler and meandered over the mountains back to the main highway heading east.
After Whistler, we got to a place where we were stopped and told the road was closed and we would need to go back to Vancouver the way we had come. This seemed just too much to accept, with so much incredible scenery to be seen!

” Is there no other way to get across there?” asked Alex.

“Well”, said one man to the other, there is the HIGH LINE”( Did I detect a wink wink? ) Alex was eager to hear about the alternative route.

“We recommend four wheel drive, but it hasn’t rained lately, so you should make it” Should make it? That sounded dubious to me.

The rough gravel road extends from south to north, from D’Arcy to Seton Portage, 33 kilometres (21 miles). It travels along the west side of the lake. The gravel route is referred to as the Highline Road and is a very popular route for dirt biking and atving in the summer and snowmobiling in the winter.( Found this on the web, dirt bikes YES , motor homes NO. the longest 21 miles in my life)

Off we went, and the climb was incredible, and the scenery was spectacular.

So pleased to find a picture to show some of the more reasonable road

Beautiful BC from the High Line Trail

As we kept climbing the road narrowed and became narrower until it was scary to look out my window. Alex drove as close to the mountain as possible and all we could do was hope the two right side wheels had earth beneath them. My stomach was in a turmoil. Not being one to “freak out” in front of the children, I tried to remain calm. Alex spoke encouraging words to the children and even found humour . Now we had one passenger that did not try to hide her terror. Cinnamon our cat, who picked our house in Yellowknife one terribly cold night, and had ever since showed her gratitude, and not a typical “catitude”was riding up on the big bunk above the drivers seats with Jonathan. All at once she made a mad jump down, with a shriek and dove under my feet and tried to get into the heater duct. That should tell you something, for a cat to see the danger. The thing I remember as we proceeded, there was no way to turn around, was how long this went on. It wasn’t just a short lived terror. At one point, the road had been eroded at one spot and our vehicle came to a stop, with a hill to climb. Alex knew the peril and said , “lets pray”. As I recall the prayer was very short and in essence was, “Lord I have done it again(pushed the limit) please help.” He eased that bulky motor home out of park and put it back into low and it took off and up the mountain.Hallelujah, but still we were not through this trial. I call it the agony and ecstasy because of nearly unbelievable view of mountain tops. (yes we were up there with the peaks) and the thought, what will it feel like to tumble down off this precipice? There was no thought of taking pictures, my knuckles were too white.!!.

Anyway, as you know we did survive, but it was hard for me not blame Alex for putting us into that situation, but of course the men that told us we SHOULD make it were also under my judgement.

We made it Calgary and I will add this just to see what you think, about the next part of the story. Someone had recommended a church in Calgary that we should visit, so we found it on a sunny Sunday, walking in, not knowing a soul, choosing a bench near the back with our family. At one point in this meeting a women stood up, very near to us,and began to speak. I will never forget how it started. “There is a high mountain road” , and she likened God to the mountain and she even said that we must keep as close to the mountain as possible and not be distracted by the view. She described the experience that was still occupying my thoughts and emotions. In essence the message was we would encounter some difficult times, but that we must keep focused on God our source.

We were stunned and a little bewildered . And yes, there were some difficult times, less of what we would call miraculous interventions. That is when you dig deep and search for truth, constantly making adjustments to our beliefs, and hopefully getting to KNOW, not just believe.

THE MORRISON FAMILY HEROIC RESCUERS JUNE 1954

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After writing my memories of summer on my family farm outside of Toronto, I had to think of Alex’s life just a few miles away in East York, unknown to me. Now I see that the period I was writing about, picking vegetables etc. sitting in the shade of the two huge maples, this momentous incident was thrust upon the Morrisons.

THE FOLLOWING IS FROM THE TORONTO STAR ONE DAY AFTER THE RESCUE

It would have been 10 boys dead instead of five yesterday if the Alex Morrison family hadn’t set out from Ashbridges Bay Yacht Club earlier than usual (for some reason Marjorie their Mom decided they could miss sunday school which was very unusual)for and afternoon cruise and if Mr. Morrison hadn’t noticed a strange object floating in the distance and if all eight members of the family hadn’t done their part in the resulting rescues. Survivors agreed on that as they shivered on shore later.
“They couldn’t have done a better job”, said William Anderson and George Petchiny as they were wrapped in blankets when they came to under artificial respiration on the beach. “They got to us just in time. Just when some of us were giving up hope. And they worked like a team”.
Rescuing people from lakes is nothing new for the Morrisons. Even 10 year old Sandy has previous rescues to his credit.
They are used to water too. So it was a lucky break for the lads struggling in the icy water when the Morrisons decided to pile the family into their trim cruiser , the 30 ft Peg 111 and cast off from the yacht club and head for Centre Island………

“The children were marvelous” said Mr Morrison. “Once Sandy and I would really get a grip on one cadet the rest of the kids would help haul him aboard.It was tricky work maneuvering the cruiser in the choppy waves and some of the boys were bobbing up in all directions. When we got the fifth boy aboard I noticed a cutter inshore. I headed the cruiser toward it and told the Sea Scouts in it what had happened.

“I brought them over to the scene and between us we got four unconscious boys aboard”
“Then when it looked like as though we had everybody I towed the cutter ashore with me”
After bringing the boys ashore Mr. Morrison and Sandy, turned their cruiser around and headed back to the wreck with other members of the yacht club.
Said Sandy “it had drifted far to the east and was heading in toward Fallingbrook, There wasn’t any trouble towing it in. But nobody seemed to know whether were any bodies in the lake or not. WE DID OUR BEST” Yacht club, city and Navy League officials were unanimous that their best was magnificent.

“If Sandy was in the boat I don’t think it would tip over”, said Joy. But Sandy said he didn’t have a clue to the mystery of the capsizing whale boat. All he could
say was “It was a perfect sunny day, but the waves got big”
END OF STAR ARTICLE

Alex said he had a brief moment of celebrity at school, because of the pictures and articles all over the Toronto papers. We have all heard of men who are rescuers, and I guess Alex started at an early age.
By the time I met him, he had already come across some terrible car accidents and went in the ambulance with a lady once who was sure she was blind but he assured her there was just blood in her eyes. I am still in possession of a note mailed to him by someone who was so grateful for his help at the scene of their accident, at a different site.

I share this today, for Alex’s siblings and our children and grandchildren and others who might not have known about this incident which I am sure affected and shaped his life.

My Home painted by Evelyn Burkholder

“What is so rare as a day in June, then if ever come perfect days?”,

Whether we look or whether we listen, We hear life murmur or see it glisten……. James Russell Lowell

Summer mornings on the farm were exquisite. Lawns lay green and velvety, perennial beds flowered in the flattering slant of sunshine from the east. Rose bushes climbed and periwinkle ( we called it myrtle) crept up the foundation on the east side of the house. Bird song filled the cool air.

School was nearly over for the season. Wild strawberries hid in the verdant ditches along the gravel road, providing a tasty snack on the way home. There were buttercups and daisies among other wildflowers. After they started spraying the ditches, there were NO MORE. When does a wild flower or fruit become a dreaded weed. Where they not designed for the pleasure of small children trudging that mile and a quarter through the heat? Someone told me recently, about their European friends wanting to coordinate their visit to Canada, when all those yellow flowers are blooming (dandelions). Does that not tell us a lot about what conditioning does to us?

The gardens were full of carrots, peas, beans, potatoes, onions, beets, cabbage, lettuce, cucumbers on and on we could go. Everything in neat rows, and weed free, thanks to the in house staff. There were cherry trees tucked in between the smoke house and the spruce trees, for delicious sour cherry pies. ( one hardly sees anymore) Apples were forming on the orchard trees. Nearby were pear trees, raspberry canes

Strawberries were deep red and delicious, before they were bred for long distance travel, like today. Those strawberries only had to make it from the garden to the kitchen to top off Mom’s biscuits for strawberry shortcake, or mounded into pastry for a luscious pie. Some were preserved by canning for a delectable bowl in the middle of winter, and jam, of course. Later came raspberries to be picked, preserved, as well as plums and pears.

At about this time of year, when peas were in full swing, Mom would dig a few tiny potatoes and wee carrots, and add then to the peas, in a smooth buttery white sauce. That is a wonderful way to eat, with a serving of beef, or chicken. How about a fresh lettuce salad dressed with cream, apple cider vinegar and a pinch of sugar? Applesauce from summer apples was so delicious with bran muffins.This was typical of everyday meals. All from the farm, and oh so fresh and tasty.

We all had jobs to do, like weeding and thinning vegetables. As the summer holidays progressed, the picking of green beans, cucumbers kept me busy.

Some of our neighbors would bring their excess produce for Carl to take, every Thursday on his route along The Danforth and Queen st, supplying Greek, Chinese and Italian grocers with eggs, produce and New York dressed chickens. That evening, he would sit at his desk, filling small brown envelopes with cash for those neighbors and how proud I was when he had an envelope for me with my name written in his large scrawl, indicating how many baskets etc. or slicers (cucumbers) or asparagus bundled in pounds. Let me add, that money was turned back to him to put into the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce in Stouffville, talk about full circle. Money was to not to fritter away, but to invest.

Another highlight of summer was peach season. Dad set aside a day to drive his truck down to Niagara area, and load it up with the most juicy and tasty peaches that were ripe and ready to eat, and can. That evening neighbors from up and down the road would come and pick up their order and all the women went into peeling and filling jars to can those beauties.My Mom tried very hard to fill 100 quart jars, and what a lovely addition they were to our winter meals. That was just peaches, but there was plums and pears also . Delicious!

Also sweet corn was grown in enough quantity to sell in Toronto, plus for our own consumption. I have pleasant memories of a mountain of freshly picked corn on the front yard, and it was “all hands on deck” to bag it in the dark, within the circle of that yard light, casting shadows. We were fanatic that corn should be consumed as quickly as possible after it was picked from the stalk. There seemed to be quite a collection of young men “helping” . Did it have anything to do with my pretty older sisters being there also.?

Everyone had a job to do on the farm, and we were aware of what it was, without being told. TRADITIONS are amazing. You can raise a family nearly without having to tell them (let alone repeat your requests) what is expected of them.

Cows were milked, chickens were fed, eggs were gathered( one of my tasks) beside all the gardening and tending the new crops.

I don’t usually feel like a senior, but writing this, might give me a clue, this was a long time ago.. It was a wonderful way to live, enjoying the miracle of earth’s provision.

GEORGE AND STANLEY GET A SURPRISE VISIT AT DAL LAKE

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In my last blog, I chronicled our road trip, travelling from Yellowknife, NWT. down the scenic Oregon and California coasts across to Florida. We completed our large circle by heading up to Ontario, across to Minnesota , north to Yellowknife.

We arrived home (Yellowknife) around April 1, and Jon, Michelle and Janine settled back into school. The days were lengthening. We were living in a good size home, that was built on the side of rock shield. In our living room, there was a hunk of exposed rock where the owners had installed a metal fireplace, giving a unique effect. In Jonathan’s room on the ground level, he slept on a built- in bed, that had exposed rock under it. No dusting required under there, and no stashing of dirty clothes or odds and ends. As the snows melted, sometimes there was a trickle of water from under his bed. However, don’t be thinking it was cold in our house, it was warm. Our back yard was literally rock shield rising up from the back of our house. Jon spent lots of time there, stepping from high point to high point. See the view of the “old town” as we called it, with Michelle in the foreground. Janine, is checking out the flora and fauna .(PHOTOS BELOW)

The summer before in 1977, two young men, from Ontario were spending time in Yellowknife, and had a desire to pit their courage, wits and stamina against the Northern Wilderness. I was somewhat aware of their preparations, collecting staples getting coaching from Lou Rocher, a trapper extraordinaire, brother of our friend Johnny. Lou set them up with a dog, many supplies and threw in his accordion for musical George. The plan was to be dropped off by a pilot and they were to survive for a year, then that same plane was to come and pick them up. The one year mark was nearly up and Alex must have been aware of that fact. Having chartered a small plane to go to one of his job sites at Norman Wells, he decided to surprise them.

George, who kept a detailed journal of their day to day events, has kindly sent me the entry for April 6, 1978 OVER TO GEORGE!!

George and Stanley’s cabin??

BUSH DIARY OF GEORGE HIRSCH APRIL 6. 1978

We packed things organized and adding a few odds and ends. But then I couldn’t think of anything else, I just read. I began lunch at 12:30. Stan arrived before I even got the bannock in, and reported lots of fresh rabbit activity; he’d set a few more snares. I put peas on, and sliced a pickle, then read until it was done at about 1 pm. It was an ok lunch.

After lunch I did a bit more packing of odds and ends. I put the 30-30, empty, into the padded gun case and the .22 into the linen one. Then I worked on my precious little miscellaneous box. I keep all my first aid stuff and lots more in it. I got all sorts of widely distributed junk together, and finally filled the little metal box. I found an old flour bag that I wanted to use as a duffle bag and noticed it had some crusty flour in it yet, and the top was till mostly shut. So I began the long process of untying loose strings. It was real nice and warm! The thermometer showed 21F, and the sun really heated my back up (when the wind wasn’t blowing). Stan brought a tea out, too. When I’d finished the flour bag, but still felt like staying outside, I had a neat idea. Why not bring the ol’ accordio

Things got a little bit of a late start this morning. Stan had just begun the pancakes, so I went back to bed. I wasn’t very tired anymore, so I just dozed until he called me at 10 to 9. We dug into the glorious feast of pancakes at 9. We took it easy then, rolling smokes and talking until about 10:10. We got to the nets by a quarter or 20 past.

There was TONS of ice in the holes. (ice fishing) I mean LOTS! Boy, what a difference it makes when we don’t open them at night! We got one fish in the 1 ½ and 3 more in the 2 ½ . That was okay I guess. We got back about a ½ hour later. I left right away for my snares.

A squirrel had been loosely caught in the first snare, had pulled it tight but gotten away again. Nothing else on the hill besides one set of rabbit tracks. In the bush there was nothing at all so I headed back.

I brought some firewood in and made a fire then let Zeke out. (Zeke is an injured Whiskey Jack bird) I had the first ‘DRUM’ cigarette in about a month and a half, and boy, did it ever taste yummy. I got busy after that getting a fe

n out? So I did and had a lot of fun. We were just peacefully enjoying the music – Stan was just inside at the time – when I stopped playing; I heard a plane! It was 4 pm. I asked Stan if he heard it too, and yes indeed, he did! It was obviously a Cessna 185, low, coming from the North, and therefore not likely Nahanni. And they were going to land! I quickly put the accordion away, while Stan tied and fed the pups – to keep them quiet. We did a frantic cleanup job inside, and I put Zeke back into his box. Then I ran down to the lake, the plane was already on the ice and taxiing over to me.

At first I recognized neither pilot, nor passenger. Then the passenger got out and walked around the back of the plane; it was Alex. I was so amazed that our greeting turned out to be more of a hug than a handshake! WHAT a surprise! Then the pilot got out, and the surprise REALLY began. They started unloading boxes.

“just a little something I brought. I thought you guys might be getting a little sick of that stuff by now”.

MAN, 5 or 6 (or 7?) boxes of food. We were talking eagerly by then, though, and so I just incidentally picked up 3 in the middle of a sentence, as Alex waited to check out the “Dal Lake Hilton”. Stan came down at this point and was pretty amazed himself at our guest, then went to get a box.

So it turned out Alex had been in Norman Wells to do some work. He’d finished yesterday afternoon, the flight for Yellowknife was to leave this morning, was postponed until 7 pm this evening. So, he had a whole day with nothing to do , he just got back from an approximately 20,000 mile trip, all through USA and Canada. They’d (the whole family) left on Jan. 5 or 6. There was LOTS of other news, too, that I can’t hardly remember. , I cleaned a couple of cups and poured tea for all of us. Alex got a litre of Tri-Milk for his tea. (evaporated milk in tetra packs that was shipped to remote places.)They both liked it; Alex was surprised.

Stan reminded me of my mail, though, when he packed his latest film. So I got busy as heck and got my letters done and sealed. They were already on their way. Was it 5 pm? I don’t know. Alex put the letters in his pocket! Was I worried? …. Well ….. With extremely fond farewells they climbed into the plane. It started! A miracle! I had to close Alex door, as he couldn’t get it. Then after a lengthy warm-up , they were off. They flew to the south, turned a steep bank, then dove in for us! He came real low, before flapping, or waving a goodbye maneuver. We slowly headed back up – eager to see what we’d gotten!

First off there was about 8 Tri-Milks, and the same lbs of butter! 6 lbs of sliced bacon and 6 dozen eggs. A whole, huge tube of turkey head cheese that must weigh 15 lbs, and another (2 all told) 4 kg bag of sugar. Then 4 bags of noodles, 6 lbs of cheese (5 different types), a whole huge box of Bridge Mixture candy and another big box (48?) of Coffee Crisp chocolate bars. Then 4 loaves of bread and about a bushel of apples, one pair of boot liners (WOW) for each of us, and 1 ½ gallons of ice cream! (1 gallon of “eggnog” flavor, and ½ of butterscotch ripple). Also, 3 – 120 bag packages of tea bags, 3 HUGE jars of instant coffee, and 50 feet of 3/8” nylon rope.

No, there was just no way one can say thank you for a ‘gift’ like that. We were overwhelmed. We were immensely glad that they’d gone before we unpacked, or else we would’ve been WAY too embarrassed! (50 lbs of flour too).

We began to get systematic. First off, we decided to scrap tonight’s soup (that is, postpone it until tomorrow). We put everything away, keeping one of everything handy. I lit a fire, and Stan put water on, for coffee, then went down to open and clean all 3 holes out and get water. I cleaned the cabin up – completely – and let Zeke out again. By the time I got down to the lake the holes were done and all I had to do was carry two of the three canteens up.

Then I made supper. I took 8 slices of bacon, and since they were still frozen put them into the skillet in two ½ slabs. We had a COFFEE and smoke then, too. Just for the heck of it, I put coffee creamer (from my folks) and sugar into it. Was it ever good. We were on our second cup when I took the bacon out and toasted one side (inside pan) for each of us. Then after a gloriously thankful grace, we ate. Butter on bread is really good! WOW!

. After dinner I got one ‘Bridge Mixture’ and ate them on my bed. (We’d both had an apple and Coffee Crisp before dinner too). We talked and laughed a lot. We swore never again to ‘wish’ for anything! No matter HOW extravagant our desires were, God gives us that, and MORE!

IOnce we’d rested a bit we had another coffee then a bowl of ice cream, each. By 8 pm I pulled out the accordion again and played through until 10:30! Zeke – by the way had been doing all kinds of singing all day; he got particularly verbose during our after dinner gab, which was super nice.

I got a bit of radio reception but not enough to bother leaving it on for. I got started on this at – finally – 10 to 11. Now at 12 pm (exactly) it’s still +13F outside. It’s very dark too, there’s no lights and no moon. The stars are pretty bright too.

O yes! Alex also brought 3 boxes of bullets; one box each, of 30-06, .303, and 30-30, as he wasn’t sure what we had! We forgot to give him the two others, too bad.

(I wrote this entry at the rate of 33 words/minute)

THANKS SO MUCH GEORGE, for sharing

One day last summer I was invited for coffee by Pauline, here in my building, in Stouffville, Ontario. I sat down at her table and when I heard her last name, I said “the only other Hirsch I know was a young man in Yellowknife.”

She excitedly exclaimed ” that is my son”.

So I was privileged to meet George and his wife Sandy at his Mom’s apartment, last Christmas. It was so gratifying to see George after all these years with a teaching career and family.

This is a longer post than most, but I hope it gives you a glimpse of more of the Canadian North and the people who love it there.

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OUR LONG TRIP FROM YELLOWKNIFE TO SOUTH PADRE ISLAND

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Christmas 1977 was over and our plan was to take the new Chevrolet Suburban and head south. South is a relative word. Many Yellowknife residents called Edmonton south. Here in Toronto area they call cottage country, an hour or two north as going North. When we first arrived in Edmonton in January of 1972, with Alex in the oilfield during the week, I sometimes had a game of Yahtzi with a really pleasant neighbor. When she found out I came from the “east” she said . “I went East once and there were no trees!” I was a little shocked, because, although Edmonton had trees, they were not as large as Ontario’s . She kept talking and it became clear she had been all the way EAST to Saskatchewan. There you go! That would explain that.

We did an unorthodox thing(surprise, surprise) took our children out of school, armed with notebooks to keep journals, and probably a math book or two. I must say it was an amazing contrast to come from frigid NWT, to the green Fraser Valley on into Washington State and the spectacular Oregon coast. We met up with a good friend Roslynn from Yellowknife, who knew San Francisco well. What a good time we had there.

San Francisco January 1978

Well, I didn’t mean for that photo to get so huge. Still trying to learn the zigs and zags of this blogging. Jon, Michelle and Janine, loved the whole experience and have fond memories of Denny’s for breakfast, where they gave kids a scoop of ice cream on their cornflakes. We also listened to Gordon Lightfoot tapes (I believe cassettes were the new technology) and some upbeat music by Don Fransciso (hope I have that right), which I am sure Jonathan, especially,can still remember every lyric.

I recall at a service station, where they were checking oil etc., the attendants saw the huge battery heaters that cars in Yellowknife were equipped with, and were baffled at what they saw. Where are you from? Canada. Yellowknife. “Oh that is where that satellite came down.” It was currently in the news, and to think in California, they had heard of Yellowknife.

Some of the highlights of the trip was visiting a friend of mine, and her family not far from Sacramento California, and what an idyllic setting that was, the foothills of the Sierras. A little below them were the almond orchards, and olives, if I remember. By the time we were at their town of Tuolomne the apple orchards began, and I believe Martha and Leslie’s home was surrounded with orchards. Further up the mountain there were huge evergreens loaded with snow. What a lovely place to live, and raise 5 children.

We also went to the San Diego Zoo and of course Disney Land. We continued south to South Padre Island at Brownsville Texas,. and around the Gulf Coast to Florida, We checked out Christian Retreat, a retirement center in Bradenton, that had been recommended to us. Alex Mom spent many winters there after Alex senior died, and enjoyed it very much.

We finally headed north through Tennessee to visit an acquaintance and on to Ontario to take the rounds of friends and relatives. Alex’s Dad, was not doing well, and but we didn’t know he only had another month to live.

It was a very positive experience for us to spend all that time together, after some of the separation due to Alex contracts. We were back in Yellowknife by early April .

ALEX AND NATIONAL INDIGENOUS PEOPLES DAY

MORE PICTURES OF THE ARCTIC SUMMER

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Jon and Janine at Peel River

Michelle with visiting dogs.

Jon learning how to filet fresh white fish

Tenting in Ft, McPherson beside the travel trailer

Staff accommodation in Ft Mc Pherson NWT

Late night arrival at Ft Good Hope NWT

Peel River Valley at Ft McPherson, with Richardson Mountains and Yukon in the distance

Michelle and Janine, with friends at Ft Good Hope NWT

Janine, in the Arctic sunlight along Peel River valley in Ft McPherson

Summer is over, Alex with his completed tank in Gjoa Haven , I think.

ARCTIC SUMMER PART 3

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With Jonathan and Michelle back in school back in Yellowknife, Janine 4, and I flew back to Ft McPherson, with a sleep over in Inuvik. We arrived back to join Alex and the crew, in the midst of a kind of excitement of having lived through a potential disaster but again dodging it. The day before, when they started the large generator, all the hydraulic systems were still open on the large jacks. This in fact literally launched the partly constructed tank into the swamp.!!

Alex’s had some panicky seconds of trying to imagine how he could possibly get a large crane to come from Inuvik and this might in fact make this whole summer a loss financially. As the dust settled, Alex looked up to see the gentleman who was the local water delivery man. This man was not very amenable to bringing us water when we first arrived. Now here he was looking wide eyed and concerned for what he had just witnessed. He held a part from some machine in his hand, and Alex strolled over and said , “is there something I can do for you?” I wish I could remember his name, but he hesitantly held out the piece he wanted welded. After Alex completed that task, for the man who had been difficult up to this time, he said ,a plan to bring the tank back to it’s upright position was dropped into his mind. Amazingly,due to the skill he and the crew had with cables, winches etc. the tank was up on the jacks and ready to continue. Perhaps because Alex was able to step back from his own little disaster, to help this man who had been difficult, allowed him to receive the help he so desperately needed.

Now, September was here, and according to the locals, winter could show its face at any time. Alex, Janine and I moved into a government owned apartment with high ceilings, and large windows that afforded a grand view of the Peel River and the Richardson Mountains, on the Yukon border, in the distance. Day by day, the color of those hills turned darker and more purple, as the wild flowers did their “thing”.

The weeks passed and the phone calls from the NWT Government construction department continued, pressing Alex “will you be ready?’

“If you would stop calling, I could keep working”.

Now, the word came through the local contact man, “the barge was just one day away”.We were not ready, and the tension was high.
The next morning, from the tank site beside the river, the men could see the barge in the middle of the river within site, but it wasn’t moving.

Next came the pick up truck saying, “the barge is stuck on a sandbar, so it will be late” Hallelujah!!
Next, the district inspector flew in and delivered the ultimatum, that the tank would need to be x-rayed. Alex drew attention to the contract that stated, if it passed the hydro test(pumped full of water) that would suffice, which it did pass. This man was adamant that an x-ray crew would be flown in from Calgary. Can you believe how grateful we were the barge was stuck up river? Alex knew that in many cases like this, said inspector, would be asking for a little greasing of the palms, but he did not take the bait.
So, now the x-ray crew arrived and took more than the required shots. The barge had arrived in front of Alex’ two tanks, waiting and as the sun was starting to set, there was kind of a “holy hush” on that site. We were all waiting for the radiography crew to finish, and I know Alex was praying for a miracle.

The little man, who set up the drama, was pacing . I remember when the x-ray man said “you can start pumping, nuclear quality welds”. No one was more shocked than Alex. It is one thing to pass a hydro test, but not this quality. Now the government inspector started to suspect that Alex had paid off the x-ray people. I remember the film being held up into the sunset rays, and it couldn’t be argued with. The tap was turned on and we breathed a sigh of relief

As Alex and Bob started to pick up tools, etc, Alex overheard the inspector being berated and sworn at for overlooking the hook up of some smaller vessels, in preparation for receiving fuel. Alex stepped up and offered to hook them up for him to get them out of his jam. This, however, put us at risk for not getting our equipment and machinery on the same barge to get out of McPherson, the last one of the year.

Finally, all the welding was finished , and next day Janine and I were on site, and we were trying to rationalise, that perhaps our machinery could stay in there till next year. Like Alex often said “we don’t know enough to be pessimistic.”

As he continued to clean up, we eventually saw the barge pass us, leaving without our equipment. Much later as the sun was nearly set, in came a Northern Transportation truck, with the captain marching up, a little annoyed, to Alex saying,
“You must have friends pretty “high up” for my shore captain to call me saying” go back for Morrison’s load.” It must have been high up, because Alex did not contact anyone on the matter . The loading of equipment went on into the night, as I recall, in a very soft rain.

On September 21, we were flying out ourselves The water delivery man was there and as we loaded he said to Alex “you must have favour with God, I have never seen the snow stay away this long.”

As we lifted away from the scene in that little plane, I was surprised and delighted to see beautiful white swans gathered on the lake below us.

“YOU ACCIDENTALLY SAVED HIS LIFE”

SPRING ON MY FAMILY FARM

: Our farm house painted by Evelyn Burkholder

As I grew older, exploring beyond the spruce hedge and walking along the fence rows was a near magical experience. Trees, brush, long grass , rocks, and rail fences of cedar,provided home for small animals. I recall seeing groundhogs peaking out of their burrows, as I passed. Early spring was memorable, because toward the back of the 100 acres, was the flat land that turned wet with the melting snow, forming a creek. It created wondrous fun, following its trickling and meandering path across the fields, ignoring property lines, as we dammed up here and released there.

Another sign of spring was walking up the long lane and seeing the whole long, pulley clothes line full of wool blankets and comforters having their yearly “March wind “ treatment,. They got whipped with that cool damp wind, removing anything that should not be there.

Early spring was also the time for butchering enough pigs for our own meat. . There was an air of excitement on that day. It was probably early March, with traces of snow still on the ground, and a cold nip in the air mingling with the smoke from the maple fires including a large one under a cast iron pot, to render down the fat for the years supply of lard. An area was cleared in the woodshed to make a butchers table for cutting up hams and bacon for curing and smoking. Also, the meat for sausage was ground up. I recall watching my Dad expertly winding the intestines around his left hand as he carefully scraped them, and dropped them into pails of water. The sausage meat was expertly seasoned and stuffed into the casings. It seems to me the meal that first day was always, back bone, or loin I suppose. To this day, I cannot recall having any sweeter or more delicious meat than that fresh pork. My Mom and my big sisters coiled those sausages into sealers and “canned’ them. The hams and shoulders were put into large oak barrels, for a certain curing time before they were hung in the smoke house,. It is still difficult for me to enjoy any other ham, having the memory of that dry, smoky version. Still today, wood smoke will evoke strong memories of my childhood.

About this time of spring the sap would start to run and it was decided we would go out to our friends, the Bakers, to watch the sap boiling operations. That historical maple bush is still there, today, but surrounded by high- rise apartments and acres of housing.I still remember the sparks from the wood fires, and of course that wonderful smell of smoke mixed with the sweet steam of the evaporating sap filled our lungs. There would usually still be some snow underfoot. Cool nights and sunny days with the temperature just a bit above freezing was what was required for sap to run.

Another exciting day in spring was when having trudged the one mile and a quarter, up the gravel road, to find that the summer kitchen had been cleaned up and prepared to cook and eat in for the summer months, which was meant to keep the rest of the house cooler. ( I know, I know it sounds like a total luxury to have an alternate kitchen ). I remember the scrubbed wood floor, the long pine table ready to set for supper, all the window glass was sparkling and a wood fire was crackling in the range. It seems to me there would be dandelion greens added to our meal at this time and a little later, fresh asparagus. The scene can be completed in my memories right now with a robin singing outside the west window. The air was damp and you could feel and smell the growing going on around us. A batch of newly hatched chicks were growing in the brooder house. Grass was greening, dandelions were peeking just to name a few things.. MAGIC, REAL MAGIC! As soon as the pasture was ready, the cows were allowed out to roam and graze, after having been cooped up in their stanchions all winter, surviving on hay, ground grain, turnips from the root cellar. Soon as the land was dry enough, the crops would be seeded and I remember Dad at the end of our long table announcing, “the oats are up”.

This was written quite a few years ago, and I planned to do all the seasons. I want my idyllic farm life to be on record, for my grandchildren. It will no doubt, be focused on the crops and foods we grew and ate. My daughter Janine, says it should be recorded because so many young children barely know where food comes from.

Kathryn Morrison

Stories of my Life, to Share With Others

THE HIGH LINE

THE MORRISON FAMILY HEROIC RESCUERS JUNE 1954

GEORGE AND STANLEY GET A SURPRISE VISIT AT DAL LAKE

OUR LONG TRIP FROM YELLOWKNIFE TO SOUTH PADRE ISLAND

ALEX AND NATIONAL INDIGENOUS PEOPLES DAY

MORE PICTURES OF THE ARCTIC SUMMER

ARCTIC SUMMER PART 3

“YOU ACCIDENTALLY SAVED HIS LIFE”

SPRING ON MY FAMILY FARM