Standing Into Danger: February 2018

Friday, February 23, 2018

The Lansdowne Letters: Canoeing Lesson

Sometimes my narrative gets ahead of my father’s letters,
and sometimes my father goes back to a previous event.

A little of both occurs
as I share the rest of his letter dated
Thursday, May 25, 1961
when my father wrote:

Hi Folks:

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

On Victoria Day, which was a holiday,
I rented a canoe and took the family on a picnic.
All of us, including Roberta and Gretchen, piled into a big freighter canoe,
and Sara and I paddled up the shore to Joe Alex’s place,
which is about a couple of miles up the peninsula.

Lansdowne House Today

Our parents paddled our canoe up to about the narrowest part of the south side of the peninsula.

Google

Imagery: DigitalGlobe, Landstat/Copernicus

Map Data: Google 2017

Then we went ashore and ate.
Sara had some canned stew,
which I was never very fond of at home,
but which tasted delicious when it was heated up and eaten outside.

She also brought along lots of bread and butter,
coffee, and orange juice for the children.
Also, she baked a lovely cake for the picnic.

The picnic was actually on the Sunday before Victoria Day,
which was Monday, 22 May 61.

After the meal, Gretchen went swimming,
and Barbie and Donnie sneaked in wading.
I don’t know why all three of them didn’t die of pneumonia,
for they were right in among the ice cakes along the store.
I put a stop to the whole thing when I discovered it.

Donnie, holding Bertie, with Barbie

Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia, Canada

Summer 1960

Roy with Gretchen

Margaretsville, Nova Scotia, Canada

Christmas 1958

Roy and Louise took the canoe and went out a short distance
on the lake and practiced paddling the canoe.
It was most amusing to watch them.

Paddling a canoe requires co-operation,
and those two don’t know what the word means.
All they could do is compete.
As a result, they got nowhere for a while,
except around in circles.

They would get the canoe all lined up where they were trying to go,
and they would start out with a flourish.
Very shortly they would find the canoe swinging off course.

All that would be required at this stage would be for one of them
to shift sides and paddle on the opposite side;
but of course, each one would roar at the other one to shift,
and at the same time be too stubborn to shift themselves.

The Uncooperative

School Photos, Fall 1960

Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia, Canada

Very shortly, the canoe would swing through a complete circle,
and they would be heading back where they came from.
It was an education in itself to listen to the recriminations
that were flying back and forth between them when this happened.

After about an hour of this futile floundering,
they finally caught on to the fact, that as much as they disliked it,
they had to co-operate and one had to be the boss
and tell the other one when to shift.

At this stage I interfered to tell them that the natural one
to command the canoe was the one in the stern,
because the canoe is controlled from the stern.

This immediately started another row,
because Roy was in the stern,
and Louise wanted to be in command.
She had jumped into the front at the start
because she thought that the front position was the most important.

The only reason Roy didn’t fight for the front position
was that I had had him out with me before the picnic,
and I had taken the stern.
I told him then that the most experienced paddler always takes the stern,
and so Roy was quite willing to take the stern.

I finally had to take a hand and tell them
that Roy could command the ship for a while,
and then, when I told them, they were to come ashore and shift positions.

Once they learned about co-operation and settled their jurisdictional dispute,
they got along great and could go anywhere they wanted to.
This canoe episode was a better lesson in co-operation
than all the lecturing that I could do in a year.

Somewhat Working Together

Roy and I (Louise)

Attawapiskat Lake, Northern Ontario, Canada

Victoria Day, 1961

Right about now I can just see Nana, Grammie, Great Grammie,
and Aunt Maude all sitting down to write me letters
scolding me for allowing the two of them out alone in a canoe.

I can assure you that the canoe I had on the picnic
was quite different from the one I had last fall.
It was a small two-man canoe and was as skittish as a strange cat,
and it would upset if you looked at it incorrectly.

The one I had on the picnic was a big eighteen-foot
freighter canoe with a four-foot beam.
It was as steady, as safe, and as hard to upset as a Newfoundland dory.
They are one of the safest crafts afloat.

Don’t worry.
I wouldn’t have allowed them out in it alone
if it was the least bit dangerous.

Survivors of Childhood

Roy and I (Louise)

Beautiful Cove, Long Island, Nova Scotia, Canada

August 2, 2016

I don’t think I ever mentioned Joe Alex’s place in any descriptions of Lansdowne House.
Joe Alex was a Jewish free trader who had a store
about two miles up the peninsula from the Hudson’s Bay store.
He was running in competition with the Bay.

He had his own private plane.
About three years ago he crashed the plane and killed himself,
and since then the place has been deserted.
It is slowly falling into ruin.

After about two hours at Joe Alex’s,
I loaded the family in the canoe, minus our baggage
and headed further up the lake.

About a mile further on, the lake was completely free of ice.
I have since learned that for the last week of break-up the lake
was free of ice except for three or four miles square around the settlement.
This area was still frozen over for some reason.

We spent a delightful time paddling around the water, and then we started home.
On our way we stopped at Joe Alex’s to pick up our baggage,
including some of Roberta’s diapers which we had left drying on a bush.

For a photograph of Ojibwa "Diapers" from that time period click here.

Ice Free Northern Lake

Somewhere Close to Lansdowne House

Photo by Don MacBeath, September 1960

We arrived home about six in the evening,
happy, but tired and sunburned after a day in the open.
It is hard to believe that we went on this picnic,
and if it wasn’t for my red face,
I would almost think I had dreamed it,
for yesterday and today have been miserable.
We actually had quite a bit of snow the last two days.

I don’t think I’ll ever cease to be amazed
at how essentially polite and courteous the Indians are.
True, they never say please or thank you,
and they make the women do the hard work,
and the men get the preferred treatment,
but this is a result of their culture and customs
and not because of any inborn impoliteness.

In the old days the men were the hunters and provided the food,
and the women ran the homes, cut the wood,
hauled the water, and did all the dirty work.

They had to, because the men were away hunting so much.
In fact, the women’s lot was so hard,
that it was not uncommon for the Indian mothers to kill their female babies
rather than to let them live to spend as hard a life as they had.

Times are changing though,
and now you see quite a few of the younger men
hauling water and cutting wood and even carrying the tikinagans,
something you never would have seen fifty years ago
or even twenty-five years ago.

Indian Mother with Baby in a Tikanagan

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Photo by Don MacBeath, Fall 1960

But I started to tell you about the politeness of the Indians.
There were a lot of canoes out that Sunday,
and most of them had outboard motors.

Whenever one of the canoes came near our canoe,
they would throttle back the motor and go past us as slowly as possible
so as not to swamp us with the wake from the motor.
A couple of them even shut off their motors and paddled past us.

I can imagine what would have happened
if the canoes had been operated by white people, especially teenagers.
The Indian teenagers were just as polite as their elders.

And I wonder where, outside, if anywhere, that you could leave
all your equipment, including a camp stove and dishes and jackets
on a beach for a couple of hours and come back and find nothing disturbed.
We didn’t even bother to lock the house,
although we were away for most of the day.

Well, I have an awful lot more to tell you about the break-up
and meeting the first plane (I was in one of the canoes),
but I have to sign off now and get some official mail ready for tomorrow,
so I’ll have to continue this narrative tomorrow and send it out next week.

All the members of the family are well and thriving on this northern life.
Roberta has gained a lot of weight, and Sara looks wonderful.
I am holding down my weight.
Roy has been bothered some with his tonsils
and will have to have them out as soon as we go outside,
but he is ok just now.
Tomorrow is his birthday, and he is quite excited about it.

Well, this is an example of damned poor planning,
having to start a fourth page like this.
I really had intended to finish it in three pages,
but the end sort of snook up on me.

If I had the time, it would be the logical thing to do to finish this new page,
but I just haven’t got the time, so I’ll have to sign off now,
new page or no new page. Bye for now.
See you all next week.

Love, Don.

Returning from Joe Alex's

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Photo by Don MacBeath, Victoria Day, 196

My Father continued in a handwritten postscript to his mother:
Oh well, Mother, it gives me some space to write a private note to you.
Roy’s parcel arrived safely and on time.
He doesn’t know about it though.
He hasn’t opened it yet, but it wasn’t damaged or anything.
Will write next week and tell you all about the birthday.
Thanks for Roy’s parcel.

It’s good to see that Aunt Maude is up and around again
and is more like her old self again.

I am glad that you are finally rid of the property,
although I feel queer in a way to think that we no longer own the corner,
but it was the only thing to do, because I’ll never be living in Charlottetown again -
at least not till I am retired,
and especially if I get this new job in Sioux Lookout.

My Grandmother MacBeath's Apartment Building and Home
at the Corner of Fitzroy and Edward

(We lived in the two-story apartment with the red and white door in the mid-1950s.)

Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada

Map Data: Google

Oh yes, they are going to meet me in North Bay for the interview
some time in July - date to be announced later,
and I imagine it will be in the first week in July.

I think I am almost certain of getting the job.
I hope so, because it would be a wonderful promotion.
Sunday school is proceeding well.
Thanks for the carbon paper. It is just what I wanted.

Well, I got to sign off now.
I hope this letter lives up to my promise of a nice long letter.
Next week’s will be just as long,
for I have more to tell about break-up.

Bye for now,
Love, Don

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue

Waiting for the Ferry to Tiverton
Eastern Passage, Digby Neck, Bay of Fundy
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue

Notes:
1. Victoria Day:
Victoria Day is a federal public holiday celebrated in Canada on the last Monday before May 25,
in honour of Queen Victoria's birthday. It is the Monday between the 18th to the 24th, and thus it
is always the penultimate Monday of May. The current Canadian sovereign's birthday, Queen
Elizabeth II's, is officially recognized on Victoria Day. Many Canadians consider it the informal
start of summer. Wikipedia

Queen Victoria

by Alexander Melville, 1845

2. Aunt Maude was battling cancer.

3. Sunday School: My father was conducting regular Sunday School lessons with us, because
only itinerant Anglican ministers visited Lansdowne House. Reverend Harold
Mitton of the First Baptist Church in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island regularly sent my
father materials.

It's funny to see four digit telephone numbers nowadays and to realize that you could mail a letter
in Charlottetown to be delivered in Charlottetown and just write "City" in the address.

Mother's Day Church Bulletin

May 14, 1961

Mail for My Father

from Reverend Mitton

May 15, 1961

For Map Lovers Like Me:

Map of Canada

Highlighting Ontario

Wikimedia

Lansdowne House, Ontario

Wikimedia

Attawapiskat Lake and Lansdowne House

Google

Map Data Google 2018

Attawapiskat Lake

An Unusual Depiction of Life There

Original Source Unknown

Found At: hypenotic

Friday, February 16, 2018

The Lansdowne Letters: Stages in Ice

And then it was gone!
After long weeks of waiting,
break-up was over in Lansdowne House on May 23, 1961.

An Ice Free Lake Attawapiskat

Lansdowne House, Ontario, Canada

Photo by Don MacBeath, 1961

Mail planes, bringing welcome news from the Outside

and much-needed supplies,

had switched from skis to pontoons

and were landing in a spray of water

instead of rooster tails of snow

and taxiing to the Hudson's Bay Company dock.

The tension of being cut-off from everything eased,
and people looked forward to the brief summer
and long warm days of abundance and fun.

No one in our family anticipated the dramatic events
about to happen during the next few weeks.

Two Pontoon or Float Planes

By U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Wikimedia

On Thursday, May 25, 1961
My father wrote:

Hi Folks:
Break-up is finally over for this year.
It ended with rather a sudden dramatic decisiveness Tuesday afternoon.
Actually, the first plane came in Monday afternoon
but had to land four miles up the lake,
as we were still ice-bound right around the settlement.

The plane was met by four canoes,
and the goods and mail were transported by canoes to the settlement.
I was only able to get one letter to Mother out by this plane,
so for all practical purposes, this is the first letter after break-up.

Breakup was so peaceful that I almost dreaded to see the end of it.
We had a delightful time during this period.
I got several nice paintings done, and Sara and I were able to play a lot of Bridge.

Rock Causeway to the Father's Island

(An Alternative to Crossing on Ice)

Lansdowne House, Ontario, Canada

Painting by Don MacBeath, 1961

It was most interesting to watch the ice slowly melting in the lake.
The snow went rather rapidly, but the ice remained in the lake.
At first, it was startling to see the grass starting to turn green on the ground,
and then to look out on the lake and see
the Indians still traveling by dog team on the lake.

I have only watched one break-up, but from what I was able to observe,
there are four definite stages in the deterioration of the lake ice --
no actually, there are five stages.

The first stage is when
the DOT pronounces the ice dangerous for planes.
Then we have our last plane.

The next stage is reached
when the Father stops using the snowmobile on the ice.
As long as the Father continues to use the snowmobile ,
we know that in an emergency a light plane like a Cessna could still land.
However once the snowmobile is laid up,
we definitely know that we are cut off until the lake is open.
This year, the second stage was reached very shortly after the first one.

This is a late wood-bodied Bombardier B-12 snow bus,

This is similar to Father Ouimet's snowmobile or "bombardier." (bomb-ba-deer)

Circa 1951

Wikipedia

The third stage is reached
when the Father stops using the light Ski-Doo,
which is sort of a motorized toboggan.
When the Ski-Doo is laid up,
we know that the break-up period is about half through usually.

Facebook

The fourth stage is when
the Indians decide that the ice is dangerous for traveling with dog teams.
This is an interesting stage,
mainly because of the compromise measures worked out
by the Indians for getting by this period.

During the fourth stage,
the Indians can’t travel by canoe because there is still ice on the lake,
and they can’t travel safely by dog teams.

Since the fourth stage usually occurs at the height of the muskrat trapping season,
it is necessary for the Indians to be mobile,
so they get around their difficulties in an amusing way and a practical way also.

They lash their canoes to their sleighs,
put all their gear in the canoes,
hitch the dogs to the sleighs, and start out.

If the ice breaks, they jump into the canoes,
pull the dogs in with them, and paddle till they strike firm ice again
when they haul the sleighs up on the ice and resume their journey.

For a photo of two trappers with their dogs, click here
(Copyright holder: Government of Saskatchewan)

The fifth stage is when the ice goes out, and the first plane lands.

The Indians can tell when the fourth stage has arrived
by watching the ice change colour.

First, the ice turns black all over, and the fourth stage has arrived.
Then it turns snowy white again.
It remains white for anywhere from several hours till several weeks.
This year it remained white for three days.

Then it turns black again.
Once it turns black again, it is just a matter of waiting
for a good strong wind to break the ice up and clear the ice out.
If no wind comes, it just sits and rots.

For a photo of the black ice phenomenon, click here (4th photo down)
(Copyright holder: Sunset Country/Northern Ontario Travel)

This year we had a period of two weeks
after the second blackness before we got our wind.
During this two-week period the water rose,
and the ice all melted around the shores,
and everyone got out paddling around in the canoes.

No Longer Ice-Bound

Lansdowne House, Ontario, Canada

Photo by Don MacBeath, 1960

This letter of my father's was very long,
so I'll continue it in my next Northern post.

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue.

Notes:
1. The Father: Father Maurice Ouimet

Father Ouimet with My Father and Brother Bernier

Roman Catholic OMI Mission Kitchen

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Fall 1960

2. Snowmobiles and Ski-Doos:
Joseph-Armand Bombardier developed large tracked vehicles that could hold up to twelve people,
one of which Bombardier gave to his friend Father Ouimet in 1949. My father referred to this
as Father Ouimet's snowmobile, but I also heard it called a bombardier (bomb-ba-deer).

But what was really needed in the north was a machine for one or two people, something that
would make Father Ouimet's work easier in his northern parishes. Ouimet suggested this to his
friend Bombardier, and from this idea Joseph-Armand created the Ski-Doo.

Were it not for a publisher's error in a sales brochure, Ski-Doos would have been Snow-Dogs.
Wikipedia

In the winter of 1959 Joseph-Armand hand-built the first two Ski-Doos, and in April,
1959 he personally delivered one of them by bush plane to Father Ouimet in
Lansdowne House. The Canadian Encyclopedia

I have wonderful memories of riding with Father Ouimet on his ski-doo. Father Ouimet's first

Ski-Doo, the one I rode on, was obtained by the The Museum of Ingenuity J. Armand Bombardier

in 1969. Sled Magazine

For Map Lovers Like Me:

Map of Canada

Highlighting Ontario

Wikimedia

Location of Lansdowne House

Wikimedia edited

Friday, February 9, 2018

The Lansdowne Letters: A Picnic Unlike Any Other

The days rapidly grew longer and warmer as spring filled the land,
but the rotting ice lingered in May 1961,
and Lansdowne House remained cut off from the Outside.

Rotting Ice

Pointe-du-Chêne, New Brunswick, Canada

Flickr ~ Shawn Harquail License Cropped

Spring fever ran rampant, and suddenly our home seemed dark and cramped.
Everyone wanted to be outside stretching his or her limbs in the warm sunshine
and breathing the fresh, wholesome air of the North.

Two unusual days that I have never forgotten occurred in late May,
following one after the other, Sunday and Monday.
Both brought canoes and broke the monotony of waiting for break-up to end.
Both were wonderful.
Here follows the tale of the first.

Pussy Willows

Harbingers of Spring in the North

Flickr ~ fryed_2010 License

On Monday, May 22, 1961
My father wrote to his mother,
Myrtle MacBeath:

Dear Mother:
I just have time for a short note to you,
to let you know
that break-up is over, after a fashion.

© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

The lake is open down about five miles,
and I just found out that there is a plane coming in,
and they are going down to meet it in canoes.

However, the break-up still isn’t over for sure,
because the ice could shift tonight and close up the open space.
I would have had a long letter ready for you
if I had known last night that there was a plane coming in.

Yesterday we had a lovely day. I rented a canoe
and took the whole family, including Gretchen, and went on a picnic.
There is enough open water around the edges of the lake
to allow you to travel by canoe.
We went up the peninsula for about three miles.
It was lovely, but Sara and I are both sore today from paddling.

We took a camp stove and canned stew and really had a lovely feed.
I don’t remember when anything has tasted better.

The baby didn’t think too much of the canoe trip.
She was frightened of the water. Ditto for Gretchen.

Family Picnic in the Bush

My Mother and Barbie

You can see the lingering ice on Lake Attawapiskat in the background,

the camp stove, and a bit of the canoe on the right.

Photo by Don MacBeath, Spring 1961

Everybody is feeling great,
although Roy has been bothered
off and on by tonsillitis.

He is going to have them out
as soon as we get out.
They are quite bad.

Roy with Donnie and Our Dachshund Gretchen
Christmas, 1961
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

Sara is continuing to gain weight slowly,
and I am holding my new weight and not gaining.
The baby has gained three pounds or so since she came up.
She looks as healthy as a pet pup.

I will be glad when the break-up is over for good,
because we are running out of food rapidly.
This has been a longer break-up than usual.

Right low the ice is just sitting in the lake rotting,
and unless we get some strong winds for several days,
it could sit there for three weeks more.
A strong wind would break it up and clear it out in two days.

Right now there isn’t a breath of wind,
and there is none forecast for the immediate future.

Well, I must sign off now,
as the canoes are leaving soon to take the mail down the lake.
Don’t be expecting regular mail till you receive my next letter,
which will be a nice long one.

When you receive my next letter, break-up will be over,
and regular mail service will be in force again.
However, I won’t guarantee when that will be.

Bye now,
Love,
Don

The Tip of the Peninsula and the Father's Island
We canoed along the right edge of the peninsula toward the bottom of the photo.
Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada, 1935

Credit: Canada. Dept. of Indian Affairs and Northern Development
Library and Archives Canada / PA-094992

Our family picnics were a staple of entertainment throughout my childhood,
from meals served on a picnic table in the backyard,
to sandwiches and pop on a blanket in a local park,
to wieners and marshmallows roasted over a fire by the ocean,
but this was most unusual picnic I had ever experienced.

We lugged the camp stove, boxes of food and cooking utensils,
blankets, and layers of clothes down to the Hudson’s Bay dock
to load the canoe my father had rented,
a big freighter with five seats and plenty of room to stow
seven people, picnic supplies, and one unenthusiastic dachshund.

The novelty of piling everyone into the canoe
added a dash of adventure to a Sunday outing on a brilliant day.

Dad pulled the front of the canoe up on the shore,
so Roy and I could steady it.
He and Mom settled Donnie and Barbie on the seat toward the front,
baby Bertie on the floor by the middle seat,
and our dachshund Gretchen on the floor
toward the back among all the picnic supplies.

Mom hopped in and took the seat in the bow,
paddle in hand to push off.
Dad, Roy, and I gave the canoe a huge shove,
waded into the water alongside it, and gingerly climbed in.

Bertie was my responsibility,
Gretchen Roy’s.

Bertie and Me
Summer, 1961
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

As our parents paddled the canoe
through a strip of water between the ice and the shore,
the familiar Hudson’s Bay post,
the Department of Transport buildings and dock,
the nursing station, and the school slipped by,
followed by a cluster of Ojibwa homes,
and then we were skirting the wild peninsula.

The sight of spindly spruce and birch standing above
an impenetrable tangle of shrubs was intimidating.
In most places the lake water lapped up against
rounded flat boulders, sparse grasses, and low-lying plants
that abruptly yielded to trees and brush.

The dip and pull of our parents’ paddles in the still water
was hypnotic in the warm sunshine;
but even drowsing, I could sense the cold ice floating nearby.
The bush was alive with birdsong and insect voices,
but the land felt empty, primal.

My parents landed on a suitable patch of ground
about two miles up the peninsula
where we could pull up the canoe and spread the blankets.

The site contained the remains of a deserted store
that was falling into ruin.
The owner, a free trader named Joe Alex,
had crashed his plane and died several years previously.

In short order Dad got the camp stove going and coffee perking,
while Mom heated canned stew and sliced and buttered bread.

Does anything taste better than hot stew and homemade bread in the wilderness?
Well, maybe orange juice and cake to follow,
if you’re a kid with hollow legs,
and we all had hollow legs and the appetites to fill them.

Afterwards Dad curled up on a blanket
with a favorite magazine to read and enjoyed a smoke or two,
while Mom relaxed and watched us play.

Roy and I took the canoe out and practiced canoeing.
More correctly, we argued over controlling it
and spent much of our time going around in circles
until Dad sorted out our squabbles.

Roy and I Canoeing on Lake Attawapiskat

Near Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada

Photo by Don MacBeath, Spring 1961

Meanwhile Barbie and Donnie sneaked into the icy water
to wade, and Gretchen decided to go for a swim.
Add in a toddler who loved running around on her unsteady legs,
and my parents had their hands full.

Later they corralled us all into the canoe
and paddled another mile up the lake along the peninsula.
Here we discovered the lake was wide open and clear of ice,
a fact that figured in our adventures on the following day,
but that’s a story for a future post!