The Lansdowne Letters: To Hell with the Stepping Stones

Yours Truly, 10 Years Old
Smith's Cove, Fall 1960
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

Whenever a letter arrived
from my father,
my mother sat us down
after the supper dishes were done
and shared it with we five.

Then I snapped it up
to pore over it myself.
I wanted to step through Dad's words
and into his adventures
in the wild and mysterious North.

birchvillacottages

Tens years old,
I was in Grade 5
in Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia,
and we were studying
Canadian History for the first time.

My mind was filled with romantic tales
of the voyageurs, the priests, 
and the Hudson Bay Company
pushing into the unknown bush.  

Voyageurs Paddling a Hudson Bay Company Freighter Canoe
Artist, Frances Anne Hopkins, 1869
Wikimedia

I couldn't wait to take Dad's latest letter
to school the next day 
to share it with my teacher and classmates.

To me, Dad was an adventurer too ~
but, well, maybe not quite a voyageur!

Historical Hudson's Bay Company Flag 

(originally used on July 21, 1682)

Wikimedia

Wednesday, October 5, 1960 
My father wrote:
How’s everyone tonight?

I may have started off this week slowly, 
but I’m sure finishing it with a bang.  

I woke up this morning, 
and from the sound and direction of the wind, 
I knew that I was in for trouble.  

It was in from the north 
at about thirty miles an hour, 
and not even a barbed wire fence 
to break the wind 
where it blows over the strip of water 
that I have to cross to get to school.

Canoe Route

This is strip of water my father had to cross with his canoe one or more times a day.

He landed at the dock by the bush plane in the photo.

The Hudson Bay Post is the closest white building in the photo.

Photo by Don MacBeath,  Fall of 1960

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

I got up and had breakfast 
and then went down to try to launch the canoe, 
but as soon as I took it out of the bushes where I keep it, 
the wind got it and started blowing it along the beach.  

Right then I said to myself, 
“I’ll never get across in this, this morning.  
If I can’t control it on land, 
what will I ever do with it in the water?”  

I managed to wrestle it back into the bushes 
and tried to get up courage to cross 
the way some of the more agile Indians do.  

The water is very low now, 
and if you are quite agile 
like some of the younger Indians, 
you can get across on the rocks, 
where the island is separated 
from the mainland by about 150 feet.  

Did you ever try crossing a brook 
150 feet wide on slippery stepping stones?  
And with a thirty mile per hour wind blowing yet?

I very shortly discovered 
that I’m not an Indian, 
at least not a young agile one. 

The Father's Causeway
The Narrowest Link Between the Father's Island and the Mainland ~
Pictured Here at Very Low Water

Dad's "Stepping Stones"

Painting by Don MacBeath, 1960

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

I came to this conclusion
about half way across,
just after I missed
one of the stepping stones
and found myself sitting in
about two and one half feet
of icy water.












I was so cheesed off by this time
that I just waded back to the island ~
to hell with the stepping stones.

After changing all my clothes 
and hanging the wet ones up to dry, 
I went down to the beach 
to have another go at the canoe.  

Luckily there was an Indian 
just heading across on the rocks.
  
I gave him a holler, 
and he helped me launch the canoe 
and paddle it across.  

I was pretty well soaked by the time I got over, 
because we were running broadside to the waves, 
and we were shipping water at every wave.  

However, I got to school about an hour late, 
and about fifteen minutes later, 
after frantically ringing the school bell, 
I managed to round up 
most of my children and start school.  

I had to change my socks and shoes 
which were very wet, 
but I very early learned 
to keep a dry pair of shoes 
and several pairs of socks in the school, 
so this presented no problem.

By noon the wind had pretty well died down, 
and I had no more trouble getting back and forth.

This afternoon our chesterfield 
arrived by plane from Nakina.  
The Father hauled it across in his big freighter canoe.  

This evening Brian Booth, 
the clerk at the Bay was over visiting us, 
and I played cribbage with him and Uno.  
After he left, I sat down and banged this out.

Dad and Brian Playing Cribbage

Photo possibly by Uno Manila, late 1960

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

Nothing else of note happened today (thanks goodness), 
so I guess I will sign off for the night.  
Will be talking to you all tomorrow again.

Bye for now,
Love, Don   

Voyageurs Shooting Rapids

Artist, Frances Anne Hopkins, 1879

Wikimedia

Dad's misadventures with his 
Hudson Bay Company canoe
never failed to entertain us,
nor did they discourage me.
In my imagination and dreams,
I became an adventurer, a voyageur, too.

And, as I later found out,
dreams can come true!

Les Voyageurs

Louise and Roy MacBeath

Lake Attawapiskat

Photo by Don MacBeath,  Spring 1961

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

All Rights Reserved

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue