Standing Into Danger

Tuesday, May 1, 2018

IWSG: Wednesday, May 2, 2018 ~ Day 29

It's the first Wednesday of the month:
the day when members of the
Insecure Writer's Support Group
share their writing struggles
and writing successes
and offer their encouragement
and support to fellow writers.

To visit the IWSG website, click here.

To become a member of the IWSG, click here.

Our wonderful co-hosts who are volunteering today,
along with IWSG founder Alex Cavanaugh are:
E.M.A. Timar, J.Q. Rose, C. Lee McKenzie, and Raimey Gallent

I hope you have a chance to visit today's hosts and thank them for co-hosting.
I'm sure they would appreciate a visit and an encouraging comment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every month the IWSG poses a question
that members can answer with advice, insight,
a personal experience, or a story in their IWSG posts.

Or, the question can inspire members
if they aren't sure what to write about on IWSG Day.

Remember the question is optional.
This month's featured question is:

It’s spring! Does this season inspire you to write more than others, or not?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's spring! And after we survived the typical
warm-sunny-snow, warm-sunny-snow,
it is glorious here in the high plains against the Front Range.
Spring is busting out in blossoms like I've never seen.

Spring Blossoms

April 27, 2018

Aurora, Colorado, USA

More Spring Blossoms

April 27, 2018

Aurora, Colorado, USA

Spring is the hardest time for me to write.
I just want to be outside in the warm sunshine,
exploring nature with my little point and shoot Canon.
I don't care if I'm walking along Piney Creek for the five hundredth time
or following a new path in a different state or county;
the outdoors beckons.
There is always something to renew me and to fill my soul.

Spring Brings Out Busy Critters

April 23, 2018

Along Piney Creek, Aurora, Colorado, USA

Fortunately I have a plan in place, a challenge to meet:
write 100 words for 100 days in a row.
I challenged myself on the last IWSG Day.
Today, May 2nd will be Day 29.
My productivity wasn't always pretty;
I squeaked by 100 words a few times,
but I've hung in there.

A Mallard Duck in His Hidey-hole

April 23, 2018

Along Piney Creek, Aurora, Colorado, USA

Rushes Filled with Red-Winged Blackbirds

April 23, 2018

Along Piney Creek, Aurora, Colorado, USA

By now I've worked out a schedule that contains spaces

for all the things I want to do, especially for writing.

I've always struggled with schedules.

I start something, and I don't want to stop.

I want to binge until it's done, even if it's 3:00 a.m.

Now, I'm learning to walk away.

I hope I'm never again finishing a blog post at two or three in the morning.

We'll see.
My last Friday blog post went up at 3:15 a.m.
I'm determined to make that the last one.

Waiting for the Light Rail

as Seen from a Passing Train

April 14, 2018

Denver, Colorado, USA

I'm looking forward to making the rounds
and seeing what fellow IWSG members are up to.

Happy writing in May!

Middle Pond

April 23, 2018

Along Piney Creek, Aurora, Colorado, USA

Friday, April 27, 2018

The Lansdowne Letters: The Most Terrifying Moment ...

Memory is such a subjective thing!

My four siblings and I were born within nine years of one another
and grew up in a tightly knit family;
we remain close, in spite of being separated by geography.
Yet, with all the experiences we have shared,
I can't think of one instance when we remember an event the same way.

Bertie Comes Home from the Hospital
Donnie, Barbie, Louise (Me) with Bertie, Gretchen with Roy

Margaretsville, Nova Scotia, Canada
April 1959

That's true of June 4, 1961 when we were all stranded
on a small island in the middle of Attawapiskat Lake.
Those of us who recall that day remember different things
and were uniquely impacted by the events of that long ago day.

At the time Bertie was barely two,
and she remembers nothing of our time in the North.

Donnie, who was seven, has no recollection of the actual day,
but she has lots of memories of the family stories about it.

Roy, who turned ten one week
before we set out on our adventure,
distinctly recalls different details
and events from me.

Barbie, who was five at the time, vividly recalls several things,
one of which fueled
her nightmares for years.

I, at eleven, cast our stranding
in a romantic, adventurous light ~
especially since we all survived:
We were marooned!

Shortly Before We Moved North

Bertie with Louise (Me), Roy with science project

Barbie, and Donnie with Gretchen

Smith's Cove, Nova Scotia, Canada, Fall 1960

My mother, who had an unshakable belief in things turning out well
and who trusted my father implicitly, said of our marooned outing:
"Actually, it's very safe; because there are so many islands,
if the weather turns you can always stop and wait."

For my mother it may have been no big deal;

but for my father, one instant was the most terrifying moment of his life.

The day was beautiful when we pushed off and motored past the Father's Island.
Loaded with seven people, a dachshund, and picnic supplies,
our borrowed canoe rode low in the water;
but we didn't worry because Dad was in the stern
steering our canoe with the tiller on the small outboard motor.

Bertie and Gretchen traveled uncomfortably in the bottom of the canoe.
Bertie didn't think much of canoeing
and sat bracing herself with her small hands.
Gretchen lay in the bottom resting her woeful eyes on her front paws,
the thin skin between her ears wrinkled in distress.

We had a long stretch of open water to cross on Attawapiskat Lake,
and at times it was difficult to distinguish between
the islands and the irregular shoreline of the lake.
The short, spindly trees formed a low dark green horizon in all directions.

Some four or five miles down the lake Dad beached the canoe
on a curved strand of white sand in a sheltered cove.
Scraggily black spruce and thin white birches crowded the sand,
and the silence of the wilderness pressed close.
Although the waterways of Attawapiskat Lake and the Attawapiskat River
had been hunted and fished by the Ojibwa and Cree for millennia,
the forest looked untouched, primal.

The Forest Primeval

Shore of Attawapiskat Lake, Northern Ontario, Canada
June 4, 2018

The cove wasn't silent for long as we kids scrambled out of the canoe,
ditched our shoes, and dug our bare feet into the cool sand,
then raced for the frigid water and splashed in the shallows.

Our parents quickly got lunch underway, starting with the canned beef stew
that was such a hit on our canoe trip to Joe Alex's trading post two weeks earlier.
There was lots more to eat and drink:
our favorite egg salad sandwiches made with fresh eggs
now that break-up was over, sponge cake, and peanut butter cookies,
orange juice, and copious coffee for our parents.

To this day, Barb remembers what a lovely picnic lunch we had.
We were ravenous after our canoe trip in the cool, clean air,
but our hunger was nothing compared with the hunger we would feel later.

After lunch we hit
the shockingly cold water.

In a few spots we waded
and swam through
the last vestiges of rotted ice,
small crystalline pieces
that slowly disappeared
in the warm afternoon sun.

Roy and I crowed
to each other about
how brave and strong
we were to swim in icy water,
while secretly marveling
that we were.

Waters of Attawapiskat Lake

Northern Ontario, Canada

June 4, 2018

Even our mother couldn't resist the lure of water and waded in.

Not Dad though. Gone were the Prince Edward Island days

when he would challenge Roy and me to a race into the water

at Cavendish, Stanhope, or Brackley Beach with the cry,

"Last one in buys everyone Coke!"
Roy and I would splat on our bellies in eight inches of water
before Dad could get his feet wet; but he always made good on his bets.

Now Dad was content to lounge

on a blanket and read.

Waters of Attawapiskat Lake

Northern Ontario, Canada

June 4, 2018

All too soon our parents were loading the canoe for the return trip
amid loud objections from all of us children.
We couldn't believe it was suppertime.
With the lengthening days of a northern spring, it felt like mid-afternoon.

Once we cleared the sheltering arm of the cove
and entered the stretch of open water running to Lansdowne House,
we discovered a steady wind had raised waves on the lake.
They swept straight down the lake toward us, a good two feet high.

That doesn't sound like much;
but our heavily loaded canoe rode low in the water,
and we had miles to go headed into the wind.
My father struggled to keep the canoe perpendicular to the waves,
a difficult job with the small outboard motor.
If we got crosswise to the waves, we could capsize.
It was too dangerous to turn back, so we had to keep going.

At first it was exciting, but the weather deteriorated quickly
threatening rain and increasing the roughness of the waves.
The grey clouds robbed the lake of its pretty blue,
and white wind streaks appeared on the dark waves.
Spray drenched us, and water slopped into the canoe.
Dad yelled at us to bail, and Roy and I bailed and bailed.

There was a small island nearby, and Dad decided to make for it.
He had to turn the canoe at an angle to the waves to reach it,
and we were all frightened as we absorbed my father's tension and fear.
And then a panicked Gretchen jumped in the bottom of the canoe.

"That was the most terrifying moment in my life,"
Dad confided to Roy years later.
"I thought I would lose my whole family."

I don't know how my father did it;
he managed to counterbalance Gretchen's weight,
and somehow we wallowed slantwise up and down
the waves to a gravelly tip on the island.

Dad was into the water and hauling the bow of the canoe onto the shore.
We clambered out, chilled and stiff from the wind and the drenching.

Fortunately the lay of the island blocked the wind,
and Mom and Dad led us into a small opening in the bush.
Everyone but Bertie gathered sticks and brush,
while Dad cleared a spot on the ground and started a big fire.

We huddled close,
rubbing our hands,
warming our fronts
and then warming our backs,
turning round and round,
as we slowly dried out.

Wikimedia

We were no sooner dry than hunger roared in.
Just the thought of having nothing to eat made us ravenous.
We shared the meager leftovers from our picnic lunch,
a few cookies and a bit of sponge cake filled with strawberry jam.

The long twilight faded into night.
Dad kept the fire piled high with wood to drive back the dark,
but the mesmerizing flames could not crowd out the knowledge
that we were stranded for the night in the wild.
Gretchen didn't help any by growling at things only she could hear.

Just off to the left beyond the fire a black spruce had blown over.
Its roots stood in a large circle facing the fire,
and there was a shallow depression where the roots had pulled out of the ground.
Mom put a sleeping Bertie, along with Barbie and Donnie,
in a nest of picnic blankets in the sheltered hollow.

With nightfall the temperature had dropped,
and the air was heavy with with moisture.
Roy and I hunkered near the fire as intermittent drizzle fell.

I was thankful there was no room for me by the windfall roots.
I couldn't shake the thought that there might be things under those tangled roots.

I wasn't the only one disturbed by the roots.
For years afterward Barb had nightmares
of roots coming down and strangling her.

I was determined to stay awake, as was Roy.
There were no more blankets anyway,
so our parents let us stay by the fire.
No one said much.
We were too tired and too hungry.

I must have drowsed, for out of nowhere
I heard familiar voices calling across the water.
A searchlight cut the dark, growing bigger and bigger
as a boat motored closer.

What a sight to see the nursing station canoe,
stabilized by two plane pontoons, pull onto the shore,
looking like a strange double outrigger canoe!
Even better was to watch Mike and Milt hop out.
Hot food and my own bed suddenly beckoned.

"I knew you had to be the MacBeaths when we got closer to the island,"
Mike said as he warmed up by the fire with a cup of hot coffee.
"No Indian would build a fire this big."

In no time we were racing for Lansdowne House.
There was no room to take anything back with us.
Nine people and one disgruntled dachshund made for a crowded canoe.

The nursing station canoe, with its large pontoons and big motor
plowed straight through the waves for the lights of the village.
My mother, younger sisters, and Gretchen sat in the bottom
of the canoe wrapped in the picnic blankets.
The three men sat in the back seats, while Roy and I perched on the bow seat.

The bow of the canoe steadily smacked the waves,
and Roy and I were soon soaked with spray
and shivering in the cold wind.
I was so damned cold that I thought I would die.
What a relief to pass the Father's Island
and reach the Hudson's Bay Company dock.
One more minute and I would have been dead.

Bill Mitchell helped us out of the canoe and onto the dock,
and we stumbled through the bush for home.
Mom immediately started slicing bread and heating up Campbell's Scotch Broth,
while we got out of our cold, wet clothes and into warm, dry pyjamas.

That steaming mixture of lamb, barley, diced potatoes and carrots
floating in mutton broth never tasted better before or since.
We gorged on soup and bread and crawled into our sleeping bags on our bunks.

I've never forgotten how relieved people were about our safe arrival home.
They had been terrified at the thought that we had capsized and drowned
in the freezing water of Attawapiskat Lake.
We were very, very lucky.

Were it not for my father's courage and quick thinking,
our family story could have ended tragically.

Till next time ~
Fundy Blue.

Point Prim, Bay of Fundy,
Summer 2016
© M. Louise (MacBeath) Barbour/Fundy Blue
All Rights Reserved

For Map Lovers Like Me:

Map of Canada

Highlighting Ontario

Wikimedia

Location of Lansdowne House

Wikimedia edited

My Revised Guess

(After Consulting with Roy)

for the Sandy Beach and the Island We Were Stranded on

Google Maps

Imagery: Landstat/Copernicus, DigitalGlobe

Map Data: Google

Friday, April 20, 2018

The Lansdowne Letters: Stranded

The first Sunday in June 1961 brought Lansdowne House
one of those vibrant, late spring days that pulls people outside
with its promise of warmth and freedom
and banishes memories of subzero days and vistas of glittering snow.

The last bits of rotten ice lingered in Attawapiskat Lake,
as our family piled into a canoe mid-morning and set off in high spirits.
We had no premonition of the danger that awaited us down the lake.

As Calm as a Millpond
Canoeing on Attawapiskat Lake

Near Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada
May 1961

On Wednesday, June 7, 1961

My father wrote to our extended family:

Hi There Folks:
Last Sunday we had quite an adventure,
or misadventure, depending upon how you look at it.

I borrowed Tim Wabasse's canoe and three HP outboard
and took the family away down the lake on a picnic.
We all enjoyed it, even Gretchen and the baby,
although they don't think too much of canoe trips.

We went down the lake for a distance of about five miles,
and we found the most delightful little white sand beach.
All the children went in swimming, and even Sara went in wading.

A Rare Photo of My Mother
Wading in Attawapiskat Lake

Near Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada
June 4, 1961

It's a good job that we were alone, for the children
all went swimming in either their underwear or their birthday suits,
and even Sara took off her slacks and was running around in her panties.
They were just like a bunch of bloody nudists.

Only Father managed to preserve his Patrician dignity.
I found a most delightfully shady tree
and spent the day under it reading and napping.

The Only Way to Enjoy a Picnic ~
According to My Father
Sandy Beach, Attawapiskat Lake

Near Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada
June 4, 2018

When we started on our trip, the water was as calm as a millpond,
but during the day a rather strong breeze sprung up.
Because our little beach was in a sheltered cove,
we did not notice the increase in the wind,
or that there was quite a sea running.

As soon as we got out of the sheltered cove, we were in for a rather rough passage;
and, because of the waves and the wind, we had to keep going.

In a rough sea, the safest thing to do is to keep headed into the waves.
It would have been inviting disaster to attempt to turn
the canoe around and go back to the cove.

We had about two miles of open lake to cross before we came to an island,
and I can tell you that it was quite exciting.
We shipped quite a bit of water, and everybody was soaked
from the spray before we reached the lee of the island.

At first the children thought that it was quite a lot of fun;
but before the trip was over, the novelty had worn off,
and they were beginning to be afraid.

There was only one thing to do, and I did it.
I landed on the island and made preparations to stay there till the wind died down.

The Sandy Beach ~
Not the Island We Were Stranded On
Roy, Gretchen, Louise (Me), Mom, Bertie

Attawapiskat Lake, Northern Ontario, Canada
June 4, 2018

If it had only been Sara and I in the canoe,
even if we only had Louise and Roy with us,
it wouldn't have been too bad, and I would have kept on for home.

However, I was frightened that Barbie or Donnie might panic,
and all it would take to upset the canoe would be to have one
or both of them leap to the same side of the canoe,
just as a big wave hit her.

As soon as we landed, we pulled the canoe up on land,
and I started everyone gathering firewood.

I did this for several reasons. First, we were all wet,
and gathering firewood would keep everyone warm.
Also, there was a damned good chance
that we would have to spend the night on the island,
and if we did, we would need a good fire.

Luckily we had lots of matches, but that is about all we had.
I certainly learned something on this trip,
and that is to never go on a trip like that without an axe,
a flashlight, some sort of tarpaulin, and some spare food.
All we had were matches, and the remains of the picnic lunch,
and I can assure you that this was very scanty fare indeed.

We landed on the island about five in the evening,
and we were there till about eleven-thirty at night
before we were rescued by Mike O'Flaherty
and Milt MacMahon in the nursing station's big boat.

We finally got home after midnight,
and after getting something to eat, we all went to bed.
Since then we have all been busy nursing colds,
of which we seem to have an overabundance right now.

During our stay on the island, we managed to get most
of our clothes and blankets dried, and about nine o'clock
we gave the children what was left of the picnic lunch.

Of course we had coffee going
as soon as we got the fire going.

It will be a dark day indeed
when the MacBeaths
are unable to have coffee.

Wikihow

Along about ten p.m. it was beginning to get quite cold,
and rain was threatening; but we had a nice fire going,
Bertie was asleep, and the other young ones
were showing signs of yielding to the charms of Morpheus.

Along about this time, we started to notice a light
down towards Lansdowne House which appeared to be moving about.
We didn't know what it was, but in about an hour
we found out that the light came from the nursing station boat,
which manned by Mike and Milt, was out searching for us.

They finally stumbled upon us and our island about 11:30 a.m.,
and when they landed, we served them coffee,
thereby adding credence to the general opinion
that you can always get coffee at the MacBeaths,
even at the damnedest times.

Needless to say, we were very glad
to see and hear Mike and Milt.

I guess that we stirred up quite a commotion at Lansdowne House
when it was discovered that we hadn't returned from our picnic.

Bill Mitchell was the first to become alarmed;
and when he told Mike that he didn't think that we had arrived home,
Mike rushed over to our house and confirmed that we were among the missing.

He and Milt very quickly launched the nursing station canoe,
which because of the pontoons which Mike added
is the most seaworthy boat in Lansdowne House.
He took Milt's ten horse motor and his own 7 1/2 horse as a spare,
along with several tanks of gas and started out on the search.
Actually, I should say they, for both Milt and Mike were in on the search.

It was about 9 p.m. when they got started,
and they didn't find us till about 11:30 p.m.
They saw our fire about a mile and a half from the island,
but for some reason they came to the conclusion that it was just an Indian campfire.
I guess that the Indians frequently camp on this island.

Anyway, they continued their systematic search of the lake,
instead of coming directly to the fire,
just in case we should be capsized somewhere out in the lake.
I don't know who was happier to see whom when they landed.

Lunch on the Sandy Beach ~
Not the Island We Were Stranded On
Mom, Gretchen, and Baby Bertie;
Donnie, Roy, and Barbie (back);
and Louise (Me) by Bertie

Attawapiskat Lake, Northern Ontario, Canada
June 4, 2018

After they had a nice warm cup of coffee each, got warmed at our fire,
and bailed out their boat which had shipped quite a bit of water,
we loaded the kids, the dog, and Sara into the boat,
and I got into the stern with Milt, and we shoved off for home.

We left everything else on the island, including our coffee pot.
It took us about twenty-five minutes to reach the Hudson's Bay dock,
where we were met by a very relived Bill Mitchell
who normally would have been in bed hours before.

Bill Mitchell and an Ojibwa Man
Hudson's Bay Post

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada
Fall 1960

He and all the other residents of Lansdowne House
agreed that I did the wisest thing possible

when I landed on the island to ride out the storm.

The next afternoon I got one of the survey boys to run me

out to the island where I picked up the canoe

and all our belongings and brought them along home.

I had Roy along for company.

You'd think that our trip had had its share of misfortune,

but just as we were landing below our house,

didn't I have the misfortune to run upon a very sharp rock

and punch a small hole in the canvas covering

of the canoe causing a very bad leak.

Dad punched a hole in the canoe just below this hill.
This is the path to the lake where we got our water.

Lansdowne House, Northern Ontario, Canada
June 2018

Before I could return it to its owner I had to patch it.

I got a small piece of canoe canvas

about the size of a playing card and a bottle of amberoid glue,

and in about an hour I had the canoe water tight again.

Then I sailed around to the other side of the peninsula

and returned it to Tim before something else could happen to it.

Well, that's the news from Lansdowne House for this week.

I'll admit that it isn't the type of news to bring comfort
to nervous grandmothers, great grandmothers, and great aunts;
but it was exciting and a great adventure,
so I told you all, and I'm glad---so there.

I'll likely never hear the end of this,
and I am expecting great gobs of criticism and advice;
but before you cut loose, please consider
that at least I was sensible enough to appreciate the danger
of our position and come ashore before we got into real difficulties.

Before you all go gray with worry, I will assure you that
that was our swan song with regards to picnics at Lansdowne House.

Northern Ontario Lake

A Beauty You Never Forget

Flickr ~ Chris Huggins

licence

From now on all our spare time will be devoted
to packing for our move to Sioux Lookout.
Besides, I don't think I'd ever have the gall to start on another expedition
after causing everyone so much worry, anxiety, and trouble.
Even if I did have the gall, I don't think that anyone
would allow us out of their sight anyway.

Speaking about our trip to Sioux Lookout, we are going to be
awfully busy for the rest of our time in Lansdowne House.
We have an awful lot of work to do, because we have a lot of things to pack,
and we have to pack it in segregated packages
so that all the things we will need this summer will be in certain parcels,
and we won't have to open everything when we get to Sioux Lookout.

Right now we are involved in long distance house hunting
by means of personal emissary (Mike),
radio telephone (nursing station and H.B.C.), and mail.
I will let you know the results of our search as soon as we find out ourselves.

Anne is going out tomorrow to have her baby, and Mike is going along with her.
He is going to look around Sioux for us.
Also, I have enlisted the help of the Indian Agent at Sioux,
a Mr. Swartman, and have contacted a real estate agent.

Everyone says that we should not have too much trouble finding a nice house,
but everyone also cautions us not to pay too much rent
and to be careful whom we deal with in Sioux Lookout,
because apparently newcomers are all fair game to the natives of Sioux Lookout.

Oh well, I am not exactly an amateur in this game of house hunting,
so I guess I should do O.K.
As I said, I'll let you all know whatever develops.

Well, I just have to sign off now and get this away,
and get some other letters written.
See you all next week

Love,
Don.

Dad dashed down a postscript to his mother on one of the copies:
Dear Mother:
I have not time to write a personal note this weekend,
but Sara wrote one, and so did Louise,
so I guess that should be O.K., eh?

Dad's Mother and Friends
Before Marriage and Motherhood
(Nana second from left)

Likely St. Peter's Bay, Prince Edward Island, Canada
1910s

Are you keeping these circular letters?
I hope you are, especially the ones written since Sara came up here.
If you are, please continue. If you have not, please start.

These letters are sort of a journal, and I would like to have copies of all the letters.
Sara saved all she got from me, but she doesn't get anymore,
so will you please save them and send them to me as soon as we get to Sioux.

Sometime I just may get around to writing an article for a magazine,
and I think these letters would make a good start
in an article or even a series of articles.
What do you think? Am I being reasonably hopeful or just ridiculous?

All Sara's family keep remarking on how they enjoy the letters
and saying that I have a gift for writing
and should try to write something for publication.
What do you think?
In spite of everything I say,
I do have great faith in your judgement.

Bye now,
Love,
Don.

Next week I'll fill in the parts

Dad left out in his letter to the family.

He neither fooled nor mollified the grandmothers,
great grandmothers, and great aunts with his breezy tale.

Notes:

1. Three HP Outboard:

A small motor attached to the
outside of the stern of small
watercraft such as a canoe.

2. HP: Horsepower:

"Horsepower is defined as work done over time. The exact definition of one horsepower is
33,000 lb.ft./minute. Put another way, if you were to lift 33,000 pounds one foot over a period
of one minute, you would have been working at the rate of one horsepower. In this case, you'd
have expended one horsepower-minute of energy." Quotation: web-cars.com

3. Amberoid Glue (also Ambroid Glue):
I couldn't find a good definition of amberoid glue, but I've pieced together a little information.
Around 1900 the original amberoid glue was made from celluloid scraps and contained the
organic solvent toluene. The cellulose nitrate adhesive was valued for its fast-drying and
waterproof properties. It replaced spruce gum for repairing canvas canoes. Later it was
used as an airplane dope to tighten and stiffen fabrics stretched over airframes to make them
airtight and weatherproof. Then amberoid glue became widely used for building model airplanes.
The glue is remembered fondly by many model makers from the '50s and '60s for its wonderful
smell. Unfortunately, the toluene was an intoxicant and produced a sense of pleasure that was
not a high from enjoying building models. Sniffing the toluene fumes in the glue became popular
and led to drug problems ~ which may be why it is hard to find these days.

For Map Lovers Like Me:

Map of Canada

Highlighting Ontario

Wikimedia

Location of Lansdowne House

Wikimedia edited