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Eugenie Marie

Thursday, August 8th, 2024

Notes on the History of the Burns Family

Jean Burns Moore

1993

John Burns and my mother, Rose were married about 1909 and went to Victoria on their honeymoon. My father’s family were Scotch Presbyterian and my mother’s were French Catholic (Rose probably had some Indian ancestors as did the Bill Desjardin’s family). There were very strong religious prejudices at that time and mother was not made to feel welcome by the Burns’ tribe. She never forgave them.

Nelson is rather off the beaten track, so of necessity he and his father accumulated their own lumber yard, sash and door factory- where they did all the necessary manufacturing and assembling of windows, doors, cupboards and all millwork. Also owned their own marble and granite quarries and a brick yard.

Dad’s brother Harry and wife Mildred and two sons, Gordon and Bill later moved to Nelson. Harry had a lumber mill at Taghum five miles west of Nelson and a retail store in Nelson. He held the first Forest Management licence in the interior. It was a very successful operation which they eventually sold.

Harry and dad were very close and he was a frequent visitor. Mildred tried to warm up to mother. She would invite for Thanksgiving, Christmas or whatever but my mother never accepted. My cousin Bill and I were close in age and friendly. Harry and Mildred were very kind to me and I was fond of all of them but my mother’s cold remoteness made us all uncomfortable.

I had three brothers: Robert John, John Wallace and Edward James. I was number three in appearance and my mother wanted to get away from the Scottish names. She wanted me to be called Marie Eugenie. They considered naming me Ypres since I was born on the eve of that World War I battle in France. When it came time to register me at the court house, dad couldn’t spell Eugenie let alone pronounce it so he registered me Mary Jean. Everyone called me Jean so I had it changed to Jean Marie when I was 18. I was born in our first home on Carbonate Street. It was a two story house with a full basement. Our homes were heated by a central furnace which burned wood and coal. Every house had a coal shed or a coal bin in the basement. The coal was delivered from the outside via a coal chute then broken up in the basement. This created a lot of black, sooty dust and each delivery necessitated extra housecleaning.

Had a barn entered from an alley behind the house. The barn housed our horse and his carriage and winter sleigh. Also a cow and some chickens. Even in the city one was awakened by the rooster’s crow.

My paternal grandparents were three doors from us and I was a frequent visitor mainly fore the cookies and ginger ale. Grandfather was big man at 6 feet, four inches, he died in 1916. I spent a lot of time at grandma’s and when I was about 3 to 4 years old, I stole her little metal pig which held the wind up key to her clock In my haste to make a quick getaway, I fell and broke piggie’s curl tail off. I was duly caught and scolded. Since I was the only girl in both families, I was petted and spoiled and made the best of it.

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Burns family: Left to right. Father John, Jean, Robert with Ted in front, jack and mother Rose

I was born in our first home on Carbonate Street. It was a two story house with a full basement. Our homes were heated by a central furnace which burned wood and coal. Every house had a coal shed or a coal bin in the basement. The coal was delivered from the outside via a coal chute then broken up in the basement. This created a lot of black, sooty dust and each delivery necessitated extra housecleaning.

Had a barn entered from an alley behind the house. The barn housed our horse and his carriage and winter sleigh. Also a cow and some chickens. Even in the city one was awakened by the rooster’s crow.

My paternal grandparents were three doors from us and I was a frequent visitor mainly fore the cookies and ginger ale. Grandfather was big man at 6 feet, four inches, he died in 1916. I spent a lot of time at grandma’s and when I was about 3 to 4 years old, I stole her little metal pig which held the wind up key to her clock In my haste to make a quick getaway, I fell and broke piggy’s curl tail off. I was duly caught and scolded. Since I was the only girl in both families, I was petted and spoiled and made the best of it.

I don’t have too many memories of our Carbonate Street house. The toilet was in a separate room from the rest of the bathroom. On occasion. I locked myself in and couldn’t open the lock and became panic stricken. He whole tribe assembled outside the door shouting instructions to no avail. My father finally up a ladder and climbed to the second story window which was fortunately unlocked. I was in there quite awhile because he was at work.

A neighbour boy named Beverly Caverhill threw a rock and hit me on the forehead at the hair line – I bled profusely. His mother was mortified and gave me a big consolation box of chocolates. I still have the scar. I played with two little girls a couple of doors away named Hazel and Stella. We nicknamed them Oggin and Woggin for reasons unknown. We played the usual kids’ games like hop scotch, skipping rope, run sheep run, sledding and double runner skating on the steep and icy streets. Our horse was named Buster – a sturdy maintain pony but not too speedy.

About the time I was two, my parents bought a vacation home across the lake near where the Murphy’s later lived. Naturally I fell off the wharf first thing. We spent most of our summers there and later bought the present North Shore home – about 40 acres. It was formerly a fruit ranch, originally called the Hoover Ranch. \we acquired it from a Captain McClain, a widower with two grown daughters. These homes could only be reached by boat. There was no power or telephone. Plumbing was an outhouse and we used coal oil lamps.

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Burns summer home across the lake from Nelson

The original brick house was one large room plus a kitchen. A screened sleeping porch was added also a two room screened sleeping shack. There was a trap door in the kitchen and stairs going down to the basement where we kept a cooler and screened cupboard for semi perishables. In the main room we had an ice box and dad hauled ice over in big chunks. If the weather was nice we stayed on in September and rowed back and forth to school. Dad built the big porch across the front himself.

Sometimes at night, I could hear the forest animals behind our shack. I hid under the covers sure that they would drop in any minute through that flimsy screen and devour me. Many animals came down to the lake for a drink in the evening. There were lynx, cougar, bear, deer and bobcat.

A recluse named Coal Oil Johnny (since that’s what he sold to make a bare living) built a cabin on the mountain near our water spring. We did not charge him rent for squatting there. After he died, dad gave Jack the cabin. They were into cigarettes by that time and managed to burn it down one night. He forestry department and the volunteer fire brigade were not pleased. It made a spectacular fire plainly visible from the town side of the lake.

To keep the younger children from the water, my father built a fence about a block long. This was a waste of time. We were forbidden to go down there unless accompanied by an adult or our older brothers. Ted and I were past masters of getting over, under or around that fence. One day we were playing on the wharf and Ted’s little sail boat got away. When he tried to retrieve it with an oar, he fell in. The water was about 6-7 feet deep, Ted was 4. He managed to get out by himself. I kept trying to get him to grab the oar. When we went up to the house, he was soaking wet – my mother almost fainted. When she asked him how he got out, he said he said that he just kept walking along the bottom until his head came up – took a breath and then back down to continue walking his way up the beach. We were water wise.

Most of my friends went to public schools but we all went to the convent. Bob took me the first day. Mother was busy with baby Ted. It was only a couple of blocks away from our town home so after that, I went to and from by myself.

I don’t remember when dad bought our first car, a McLaughlin Buick. I can still remember our horse and carriage and the sleigh in winter. I can still smell those buffalo skin lap robes which we also used in the car in the winter since they only had those izon glass windows which we fastened on. There were few cars – the winter roads were mainly impassable for those skinny tires.

We all learned to swim when we were quite young. Mother learned when I was about six; she did a slow breast stroke. Not sure if she could have rescued us if needed. Dad was a strict teacher – we were safety conscience.

Mother did not learn to drive a car until her late 40’s. She usually proceeded cautiously at 5-10 mph. Since dad was in town during the week, he did most of the shopping. We usually came in Saturday to shop also.

My mother was fond of clothes and usually well dressed. She bought a lot of our clothes in Spokane. She sewed very well, she even made hats. I had a black sateen dress embroider with ducks, flowers and such with matching panties that I loved. She copied it in taffeta and I wore that for good occasions like Sundays, teas or other social events. I was 8-9.

In a small town, you make your own fun. There were lots of parties, teas and dances. My mother loved to dance – my father was less enthused.

Our winters were long and cold. I wore long under wear to school. Girls did not wear slacks. We folded the underwear and tucked into the stockings and the high top, laced or buttoned shoes with a button hook. The rooms were steam heated but one side was always cold.

Shortly after I started school, we moved into a big house at 820 Stanley Street – The Madden House after the hotel people. My mother had a lot of fun doing it over although it was fine as it was. Dad was also an architect so worked out a design that suited her. Now the entry is at the side in the front and the stairway goes up from the den with two turns and landings. Original entry was center front and the stairway went straight up from the entry hall. She added a bath downstairs.

At Christmas time, everyone had a live tree. You could cut one any place, there were zillions of them. We used little candles in holders that clipped onto the branches. Ted leaned too close once and caught his hair on fire. He was a tow head and mother, wanting another girl, kept him in a buster brown haircut with bangs.

The sisters were big on drama. We had a parish hall with a stage and each year we put on a play. All ages participated. I was once a fairy queen and wore a long yellow organdie dress with a train and had to sing a solo. Another time I was airiest, an Indian Maid and an Irish milk maid. The boys only attended the convent until the eighth grade and then went on to the public high school. One of the high school girls was a good looking red head named Josephine who was playing the part of Father Marquette who had a mission and mainly his time trying to convert the Indians. In this scene “he” he was supposed to be landing the canoe at their village. Josephine forgot to button her cassock all the way and she brought the house down when a lot of leg and thigh were revealed when she tried to step out of the canoe.

Each spring we prepared to move across the lake for the summer. Our place was directly across from town – about a quarter mile. The move included daisy our cow. The first time dad rented a barge and towed her over. She didn’t like that at all. So thereafter dad and the boys took her through town to the ferry (some two miles) crossed her then bush wacked another two miles over some rough country to our place

We had two black water spaniels Mutt and Jeff. We towed them and some supplies in a rowboat pulled by our launch. One year the lake was very stormy while we were crossing and the row boat overturned. Dad set it loose then took us to shore. He then returned for the boat. We children were all crying because we knew our dogs had drowned. These smart rascals knew there was an air space and sat quietly on the underside of the upturned seat. They knew somebody would pick them up. We also had some chickens and rabbits which also had to be transported. Ted had a pet bantam rooster that followed him everywhere. He carried it around in a bucket. The rooster finally drowned in the cow’s water trough.

Water was always a problem. Our source was a spring by the path that goes up to Pulpit Rock above our first lakeside house. The pipes were above ground or buried shallow so they froze each winter. Every spring we went along the line replacing joints and connectors that burst or were leaking. We had a wooden storage tank near the orchard and it too had occasional leaks.Some years there was a water shortage and we couldn’t have a garden. WE had lots of fruit trees: apples, cherries, peaches and plums as well as berries like strawberries, raspberries, currants and gooseberries. There were huckleberries in the woods. Mother usually had flowers. We rowed over to The Chinese vegetable garden directly opposite us on the CPR Flats. So named because it is one of the non-hilly areas of Nelson – most of which is steep, rising abruptly from the lake. The CPR had a round house and repair shop there. We could safely roam anywhere on our 45 acres. Lots to do – hunting, fishing, hiking, swimming and boating. The older boy’s friends were often at our place. They came by boat. But I had no one to play with so I attached myself to them and they were eternally trying to ditch me. On one occasion I invited myself to go mountain climbing. Crossing a steep cliff they were going to climb down to a narrow ledge. “Ladies first” and they carefully lowered me. They left me there and went up to the top of the mountain. I was forced to wait until they decided to come back and haul me back up.

We dressed up and came to church on Sundays. We had a motor launch, an outboard, a rowboat and a rowing canoe and spent most of our time in or around the lake. In the fall we returned home and the lake house was shuttered and closed. It was strictly a summer house – no central heat. A few times when the lake froze, we skated across and brought a lunch. Our kitchen stove was a wood burning range. When the lake was frozen we sometimes went ice boating. The boat was equipped with skate- like runners and a sail. It ran very fast and was difficult to navigate on the slick ice – really dangerous. My dad would ordinarily not let me do it but his long time bachelor clerk built a really neat one and I went many times – very fast. Lawrence was good looking, shy and spoke with a lisp but very trustworthy.

Living in such a wild environment we became familiar with death at an early age. My best friend Veronica, age 7, died of pneumonia. Victoria – same age- drowned in the creek that ran by their house. All were laid out in coffins for us to view and they looked terrible. Someone was always drowning in the summer or falling off a cliff or going through the ice on the frozen ponds. Ours were not man- made but natural hazards.

One day when Jack was picking huckleberries, he came upon a young bear cub in the forest and brought it home much to the consternation of Mac, our collie. Dad made him take it back to where he had picked it up; saying mother could be along any minute. From then on Jack acquired the nickname of ‘cub’.

We all skied. Our skis were turned out in dad’s factory. The bindings were a simple strap across the top of the foot and one around the heel. There were no ski hills or rope tows. We often hiked up to the old Silver King mine, and then skied down the road which was a series of switch-backs and horseshoe turns. We used one pole – which was just that – a sturdy branch.

There was a community of Doukobours not far from Nelson. These were Russians who rebelled against Lenin’s tyranny. They lived on communal farms with multi-family housing. Whatever produce they produced wheat, cattle, whatever – everything was shared. They came into town every Saturday and had produce stalls on Vernon St.

They objected to sending their children to school and would stage protest parades – naked. They tended to be obese, and had their own language and religion. They would occasionally blow up a rail-road bridge as a form of protest.

When their leader died, they wrapped his body in hundreds of yards of blue silk. They posted 24 hour guards at this tomb, so that the devil couldn’t come and steal the body.

I played soft-ball and basketball, the latter at the Parish hall during our gym period. We were bloomers for gym, which are like full cut pedal pushers gathered below the knee. We played badminton all winter and tennis in the summer. The boys played hockey, rugby, basketball and hunted and fished. I was the only one who played golf, which seemed a sissy game to them.

A lady barber used to cut my hair. There was one beauty shop in town where they did permanents etc. and I didn’t need that. This lady was a confirmed gossip and I grew to dislike her so I asked mom if I could cut my own. She laughed and told me to try it – nothing to it.

The main part of Kootenay Lake was about 100 miles long; Nelson was on the West Arm about 20 miles from the Min Lake. Just below our house the channel narrowed and the lake became a river. We could feel the current flowing past our point. The main beach, boathouse and dock were in a protected bay and we were not much affected by the current except at high water. Wind could generate huge waves on the Main Lake. Even at Nelson, a small vessel had better make for shore in a storm. My father was very strict about safety procedures around boats and docks.

One does not remember events sequentially so this whole narrative is rather disjointed. An Indian family came to our shore in a birch bark canoe and asked permission to camp on our land when they picked huckleberries. Mother gave them permission to use the site later sold to Dan and Dee (Desjardins) McKay. I was 5 or 6 and watched them from a distance, put off by their strange garb and appearance. But the boys helped tem cut the poles and erect their tepee. They were friendly and spoke English.

Indians must have resided on this property in the past. Bob showed them his flint collection. He also found a stone mortar. They used a mortar and pestle to grind their grain into flour. Bob was fascinated at an early age by the earth’s geology and was eternally searching and collecting rocks, shells and such along the shore. Forgot to mention how religious differences affected our lives. Dad went along with we children being raised Catholic and contributed a great deal to the school and parish – he built the convent. The nuns used our place across the lake for a retreat and our cars were often at their disposal. However, mother never ceased trying to convert him and it really was a constant source of friction in our house. Non-Catholics are not supposed to be buried in Catholic consecrated ground but my dad is buried there.

Dinty has a similar experience in his upbringing – two opposing religions to content with. So when we got married we wished to present a united front and chose a neutral religion – Episcopal. Our church was not too far and the children went to Sunday school for whatever benefit they derived from that. None are very religious but that may change as they see the end looking up.

My dad’s mother was Anne Buchan. Her brother’s son, John Buchan was appointed Governor General of Canada by the British Crown in 1935. I was training in Denver at the time I think it was extremely odd that I was not informed that father’s cousin was the Governor General until Uncle Harry wrote me. John was also an author and wrote “The 39 Steps” from which Alfred Hitchcock produced a movie. John was called Lord Tweedsmuir and Tweedsmuir Park in BC’s Chilcotin country was named for him.

The park was established in 1936 with approximately 3.5 million acres or 5400 square miles. National Geographic April 1938 issue has a 26 page article about the park written by Lady Tweedsmuir. There are many pictures. She states that the park is for the most part a high table land with an average elevation between two and three thousand feet most of it is a mosaic of noble lakes. I have that National Geographic issue if anyone would like copies.

Dad built a little rustic cedar summer house at the point and we frequently built a fire and had our dinners there. At night the reflection of the lights of Nelson on the water was beautiful. The CPR ran along the lake on the town side and the main highway was above it. All of us on the North Shore kept our boats in boathouse reached by wooden floats. Dad bought an old house near the waterfront on the Nelson side and used it for a garage and storage space.

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The little cedar shelter at the point often used for sleeping and tea parties

As we got older, we could row or take the outboard over town to go to the movies, a ball game or play tennis. Sometimes we took the street car to Lakeside Park. By age 14, I was on the tennis team and by 15; I was driving to nearby towns for tournaments.

Like most teenagers we were restless and dissatisfied with the status quo. My father sold his construction business in 1929. He and mother decided to build a summer resort at Ainsworth Hot Springs. Ainsworth is on the Main Lake some 28 miles from Nelson. They built a hotel and swimming pool and cottages. In order to prevent others from tapping into the hot springs, they had to buy up quite a bit f the town. Since it is only open in the summer, it wasn’t a very lucrative investment. There was a silver – lead ore vein under the property so they eventually sold it to a mining company.

I was 14-15 at the time. They did not spend much time across the lake that summer but we teens did. One night Gerry Dennison and I decided to we would go tom the rowing club dance. The clubhouse is a floating building. Everyone wore formals and we smuggled our across the lake. We are now 16-17 and the club members are all adults. We had a great time. About 11 PM, a fire broke out on Baker Street so we didn’t want to miss that so a group of us walked up. We sort of stood out in that crowd in our long formal dresses and who did we run into but Geryl’s parents. Disaster!

We had quite a few parties there. The glass tray on mother’s tea table was broken. I took it over to Angus McKenzie who ran dad’s millworks shop and he fixed it – no questions asked. Then my brother’s friends started snooping around and we decided to lock them out. In doing so the double hung window broke and dropped on Geryl’s hand cutting it badly. WE had to take her over town to have it stitched. Back to Angus to have the window glass replaced. He never squealed on us.

Started playing golf. My father owned a share in Country Club (helped build it) so I got to play free. None of my friends played so I played with the caddies who were kids I went to school with. By 15 I had a favourite boy friend. Very handsome with the very shiny, slicked down hair which was in vogue then a la Rudolph Valentino – the current movie idol. There was only one movie in town and it didn’t change shows too frequently so we were limited there. But lots of parties. My older brother and his friends had a band and played at dances and parties. Bob played the violin, Jack the saxophone and Ted the piano and trumpet.

In my earlier years there were few roads. What roads there were narrow and rough. They were mostly one-car wide. Whenever you met another car, one of the other would have to back up to the nearest turn out. The rugged winters were very rough on these dirt roads. The country spent all summer grading, repairing and filling pot holes. Then the winter came and tore them up again. Come spring back to the road repairs, detours, etc.

The Main Lake and West Arm were serviced by three paddle wheelers, the Nasookin, the Kuskanook and the Moyie. They handled all of the mail and freight and passengers that the trains didn’t.

I went to Cranbrook to visit friends. Ted drove me to Balfour where I took the Kuskanook to cross the Main Lake and my friends would meet me on the other side. My hat blew off the dock and the post-man retrieved it. He wore the standard mailman’s uniform, but went bare-foot all summer. Nobody cared!

Around town all of the freight, coal and wood were delivered by heavy drag-horses. The steep hills were very slippery and it was a long time before they were replaced by trucks. One winter a group of teenagers came speeding down the hill on a bob-sled about the time a horse and sleigh were crossing a lower street. They went under the horse and sleigh and all made it safely, except the last person – a girl- and the horse lost balance3 and fell on her. Instant death. Actually, one steep street was set aside for sledders, where a patrolman handled traffic. So they were sledding illegally. One of my older brothers’ friends came home drunk one night. Forgot his key so he settled down on the front porch – froze to death. It was not a forgiving climate.

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We had funny papers then. The Katzenjammer Kids – were always in trouble. And their father was always spanking them and the mother standing by and saying “What did dey done?”Then there was Happy Hooligan, Maggie and Jiggs, Moon Mullins. Grandma took the Glasgow Herald and always saved it for me for the cartoons.

Bob went away to Gonzaga University in Spokane. He was there at the same time as Bing Crosby, then unknown. Next year he went to Santa Clara, a university in California where he became interested in Geology. He switched to the Colorado School of Mines at Golden, Colorado – about 12 miles from Denver. Jack decided he wanted to be a Mining Engineer, so he also went to the Mining School Ted went to a private school in Vancouver and then to Santa Clara.

In the meantime, I wanted to go somewhere to school but dad wanted me to stay home and get married and he would build me a house on one of his lots, but I was not ready for domestic life.

In June 1933, the year I graduated from High School, Bob graduated as a Geologist and came home with two of his friends from Mines: Sal Cavello from Seattle and Bubbles from New York. Radium had been discovered in the pitch blend at Lake Athabasca in Northern Canada. Radium was then worth $5000.00 an ounce. They decided to take a prospecting survey and possibly stake some claims. All three of them were geologists. They bought their supplies, including a seventeen foot canoe, in Edmonton, Alberta. They took the train north of there as far as it went – about 400 miles – into the North West Territories – which is North of Canada between there and the Arctic Ocean. There are three big lakes. Lake Athabasca, Great Slave and Great Bear. The land is flat and full of lakes and swamps. They planned to canoe on the water areas and portage in between.

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Bob Burns. Colorado School of Mines Photo

When one enters the North West Territory which is bleak and sparsely populated, you register with the RCMP giving your approximate destination and expected time of arrival. The small villages are few and far between. If you don’t turn up according to your schedule, they start looking for you. Those big lakes are treacherous and when the wind blows up in that flat country, the waves can e as high and turbulent as ocean waves. Mother made them promise not to cross the lake but to skirt the shore. They left Fort McMurray and when they did not turn up at Fort Chipewyan on schedule. The police initiated a search and notified my parents.

There was an island mid way toward the lower part of the lake. Apparently they decided to take that route instead of going all the way around the lower end. They were caught in a big storm and never made it.

My Parents chartered a plane and searched that vast country but no sign of them. Sometime later, an Indian named peter Blue found Bob’s body. His fingernails were badly torn. Apparently there are steep cliffs along the shore and he could not get a handhold to pull himself up. He was buried at Fort Chippawyan.

At this tragic time, I was ready to graduate from high school –June 1933. There were four of us in our class. We all had to take a government exam which was required by all schools to maintain a certain standard of education. We always had more than enough units to enter any American university.

I applied for and was accepted by St. Vincent’s School of nursing in Portland OR. First the tonsils had to go and we were required to take a pre- nursing course at the University of Oregon’s medical school. I boarded with the school’s artist’s family on the north east side and back and forth to school with her.

Jack was still at Mines and lonesome without Bob. At that time, a Canadian could only attend an American school that was on a preferred list St. Joseph’s Nursing School went through whatever procedure required and then I discovered that their schedule differed from St.Vincent’s and I would have to repeat part of my probationary period. His wasn’t much of a deterrent so I proceeded to Denver

A Canadian, in order to obtain a student visa or a work permit was required to have a banker’s certification of my father’s ability to support me. A letter from the Chief of Police and a health certificate from a doctor. How did all those Mexicans and Asians get in here so easily? Jack belonged to the Kappa Sigma fraternity so I was invited to lots of Mines parties and dances and often had meals at the house. Jack was a good student – belonged to Tau Beta the honorary engineering society.

Jean wrote this in 1993 and died in 1998.

After she graduated from St. Joseph’s School of Nursing in Denver, she married C. A. ( Dinty) Moore who was in the newspaper business in Sacramento. She spent the rest of her life there. The last time she came to Nelson was in 1984 when she visited with her daughters Molly and Celia and two of her grandchildren – Meaghan and Katie.

Notes on the History of the Burns Family

Jean Burns Moore

1993

John Burns and my mother, Rose were married about 1909 and went to Victoria on their honeymoon. My father’s family were Scotch Presbyterian and my mother’s were French Catholic (Rose probably had some Indian ancestors as did the Bill Desjardin’s family). There were very strong religious prejudices at that time and mother was not made to feel welcome by the Burns’ tribe. She never forgave them.

Nelson is rather off the beaten track, so of necessity he and his father accumulated their own lumber yard, sash and door factory- where they did all the necessary manufacturing and assembling of windows, doors, cupboards and all millwork. Also owned their own marble and granite quarries and a brick yard.

Dad’s brother Harry and wife Mildred and two sons, Gordon and Bill later moved to Nelson. Harry had a lumber mill at Taghum five miles west of Nelson and a retail store in Nelson. He held the first Forest Management licence in the interior. It was a very successful operation which they eventually sold.

Harry and dad were very close and he was a frequent visitor. Mildred tried to warm up to mother. She would invite for Thanksgiving, Christmas or whatever but my mother never accepted. My cousin Bill and I were close in age and friendly. Harry and Mildred were very kind to me and I was fond of all of them but my mother’s cold remoteness made us all uncomfortable.

I had three brothers: Robert John, John Wallace and Edward James. I was number three in appearance and my mother wanted to get away from the Scottish names. She wanted me to be called Marie Eugenie. They considered naming me Ypres since I was born on the eve of that World War I battle in France. When it came time to register me at the court house, dad couldn’t spell Eugenie let alone pronounce it so he registered me Mary Jean. Everyone called me Jean so I had it changed to Jean Marie when I was 18. I was born in our first home on Carbonate Street. It was a two story house with a full basement. Our homes were heated by a central furnace which burned wood and coal. Every house had a coal shed or a coal bin in the basement. The coal was delivered from the outside via a coal chute then broken up in the basement. This created a lot of black, sooty dust and each delivery necessitated extra housecleaning.

Had a barn entered from an alley behind the house. The barn housed our horse and his carriage and winter sleigh. Also a cow and some chickens. Even in the city one was awakened by the rooster’s crow.

My paternal grandparents were three doors from us and I was a frequent visitor mainly fore the cookies and ginger ale. Grandfather was big man at 6 feet, four inches, he died in 1916. I spent a lot of time at grandma’s and when I was about 3 to 4 years old, I stole her little metal pig which held the wind up key to her clock In my haste to make a quick getaway, I fell and broke piggie’s curl tail off. I was duly caught and scolded. Since I was the only girl in both families, I was petted and spoiled and made the best of it.

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Burns family: Left to right. Father John, Jean, Robert with Ted in front, jack and mother Rose

I was born in our first home on Carbonate Street. It was a two story house with a full basement. Our homes were heated by a central furnace which burned wood and coal. Every house had a coal shed or a coal bin in the basement. The coal was delivered from the outside via a coal chute then broken up in the basement. This created a lot of black, sooty dust and each delivery necessitated extra housecleaning.

Had a barn entered from an alley behind the house. The barn housed our horse and his carriage and winter sleigh. Also a cow and some chickens. Even in the city one was awakened by the rooster’s crow.

My paternal grandparents were three doors from us and I was a frequent visitor mainly fore the cookies and ginger ale. Grandfather was big man at 6 feet, four inches, he died in 1916. I spent a lot of time at grandma’s and when I was about 3 to 4 years old, I stole her little metal pig which held the wind up key to her clock In my haste to make a quick getaway, I fell and broke piggy’s curl tail off. I was duly caught and scolded. Since I was the only girl in both families, I was petted and spoiled and made the best of it.

I don’t have too many memories of our Carbonate Street house. The toilet was in a separate room from the rest of the bathroom. On occasion. I locked myself in and couldn’t open the lock and became panic stricken. He whole tribe assembled outside the door shouting instructions to no avail. My father finally up a ladder and climbed to the second story window which was fortunately unlocked. I was in there quite awhile because he was at work.

A neighbour boy named Beverly Caverhill threw a rock and hit me on the forehead at the hair line – I bled profusely. His mother was mortified and gave me a big consolation box of chocolates. I still have the scar. I played with two little girls a couple of doors away named Hazel and Stella. We nicknamed them Oggin and Woggin for reasons unknown. We played the usual kids’ games like hop scotch, skipping rope, run sheep run, sledding and double runner skating on the steep and icy streets. Our horse was named Buster – a sturdy maintain pony but not too speedy.

About the time I was two, my parents bought a vacation home across the lake near where the Murphy’s later lived. Naturally I fell off the wharf first thing. We spent most of our summers there and later bought the present North Shore home – about 40 acres. It was formerly a fruit ranch, originally called the Hoover Ranch. \we acquired it from a Captain McClain, a widower with two grown daughters. These homes could only be reached by boat. There was no power or telephone. Plumbing was an outhouse and we used coal oil lamps.

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Burns summer home across the lake from Nelson

The original brick house was one large room plus a kitchen. A screened sleeping porch was added also a two room screened sleeping shack. There was a trap door in the kitchen and stairs going down to the basement where we kept a cooler and screened cupboard for semi perishables. In the main room we had an ice box and dad hauled ice over in big chunks. If the weather was nice we stayed on in September and rowed back and forth to school. Dad built the big porch across the front himself.

Sometimes at night, I could hear the forest animals behind our shack. I hid under the covers sure that they would drop in any minute through that flimsy screen and devour me. Many animals came down to the lake for a drink in the evening. There were lynx, cougar, bear, deer and bobcat.

A recluse named Coal Oil Johnny (since that’s what he sold to make a bare living) built a cabin on the mountain near our water spring. We did not charge him rent for squatting there. After he died, dad gave Jack the cabin. They were into cigarettes by that time and managed to burn it down one night. He forestry department and the volunteer fire brigade were not pleased. It made a spectacular fire plainly visible from the town side of the lake.

To keep the younger children from the water, my father built a fence about a block long. This was a waste of time. We were forbidden to go down there unless accompanied by an adult or our older brothers. Ted and I were past masters of getting over, under or around that fence. One day we were playing on the wharf and Ted’s little sail boat got away. When he tried to retrieve it with an oar, he fell in. The water was about 6-7 feet deep, Ted was 4. He managed to get out by himself. I kept trying to get him to grab the oar. When we went up to the house, he was soaking wet – my mother almost fainted. When she asked him how he got out, he said he said that he just kept walking along the bottom until his head came up – took a breath and then back down to continue walking his way up the beach. We were water wise.

Most of my friends went to public schools but we all went to the convent. Bob took me the first day. Mother was busy with baby Ted. It was only a couple of blocks away from our town home so after that, I went to and from by myself.

I don’t remember when dad bought our first car, a McLaughlin Buick. I can still remember our horse and carriage and the sleigh in winter. I can still smell those buffalo skin lap robes which we also used in the car in the winter since they only had those izon glass windows which we fastened on. There were few cars – the winter roads were mainly impassable for those skinny tires.

We all learned to swim when we were quite young. Mother learned when I was about six; she did a slow breast stroke. Not sure if she could have rescued us if needed. Dad was a strict teacher – we were safety conscience.

Mother did not learn to drive a car until her late 40’s. She usually proceeded cautiously at 5-10 mph. Since dad was in town during the week, he did most of the shopping. We usually came in Saturday to shop also.

My mother was fond of clothes and usually well dressed. She bought a lot of our clothes in Spokane. She sewed very well, she even made hats. I had a black sateen dress embroider with ducks, flowers and such with matching panties that I loved. She copied it in taffeta and I wore that for good occasions like Sundays, teas or other social events. I was 8-9.

In a small town, you make your own fun. There were lots of parties, teas and dances. My mother loved to dance – my father was less enthused.

Our winters were long and cold. I wore long under wear to school. Girls did not wear slacks. We folded the underwear and tucked into the stockings and the high top, laced or buttoned shoes with a button hook. The rooms were steam heated but one side was always cold.

Shortly after I started school, we moved into a big house at 820 Stanley Street – The Madden House after the hotel people. My mother had a lot of fun doing it over although it was fine as it was. Dad was also an architect so worked out a design that suited her. Now the entry is at the side in the front and the stairway goes up from the den with two turns and landings. Original entry was center front and the stairway went straight up from the entry hall. She added a bath downstairs.

At Christmas time, everyone had a live tree. You could cut one any place, there were zillions of them. We used little candles in holders that clipped onto the branches. Ted leaned too close once and caught his hair on fire. He was a tow head and mother, wanting another girl, kept him in a buster brown haircut with bangs.

The sisters were big on drama. We had a parish hall with a stage and each year we put on a play. All ages participated. I was once a fairy queen and wore a long yellow organdie dress with a train and had to sing a solo. Another time I was airiest, an Indian Maid and an Irish milk maid. The boys only attended the convent until the eighth grade and then went on to the public high school. One of the high school girls was a good looking red head named Josephine who was playing the part of Father Marquette who had a mission and mainly his time trying to convert the Indians. In this scene “he” he was supposed to be landing the canoe at their village. Josephine forgot to button her cassock all the way and she brought the house down when a lot of leg and thigh were revealed when she tried to step out of the canoe.

Each spring we prepared to move across the lake for the summer. Our place was directly across from town – about a quarter mile. The move included daisy our cow. The first time dad rented a barge and towed her over. She didn’t like that at all. So thereafter dad and the boys took her through town to the ferry (some two miles) crossed her then bush wacked another two miles over some rough country to our place

We had two black water spaniels Mutt and Jeff. We towed them and some supplies in a rowboat pulled by our launch. One year the lake was very stormy while we were crossing and the row boat overturned. Dad set it loose then took us to shore. He then returned for the boat. We children were all crying because we knew our dogs had drowned. These smart rascals knew there was an air space and sat quietly on the underside of the upturned seat. They knew somebody would pick them up. We also had some chickens and rabbits which also had to be transported. Ted had a pet bantam rooster that followed him everywhere. He carried it around in a bucket. The rooster finally drowned in the cow’s water trough.

Water was always a problem. Our source was a spring by the path that goes up to Pulpit Rock above our first lakeside house. The pipes were above ground or buried shallow so they froze each winter. Every spring we went along the line replacing joints and connectors that burst or were leaking. We had a wooden storage tank near the orchard and it too had occasional leaks.Some years there was a water shortage and we couldn’t have a garden. WE had lots of fruit trees: apples, cherries, peaches and plums as well as berries like strawberries, raspberries, currants and gooseberries. There were huckleberries in the woods. Mother usually had flowers. We rowed over to The Chinese vegetable garden directly opposite us on the CPR Flats. So named because it is one of the non-hilly areas of Nelson – most of which is steep, rising abruptly from the lake. The CPR had a round house and repair shop there. We could safely roam anywhere on our 45 acres. Lots to do – hunting, fishing, hiking, swimming and boating. The older boy’s friends were often at our place. They came by boat. But I had no one to play with so I attached myself to them and they were eternally trying to ditch me. On one occasion I invited myself to go mountain climbing. Crossing a steep cliff they were going to climb down to a narrow ledge. “Ladies first” and they carefully lowered me. They left me there and went up to the top of the mountain. I was forced to wait until they decided to come back and haul me back up.

We dressed up and came to church on Sundays. We had a motor launch, an outboard, a rowboat and a rowing canoe and spent most of our time in or around the lake. In the fall we returned home and the lake house was shuttered and closed. It was strictly a summer house – no central heat. A few times when the lake froze, we skated across and brought a lunch. Our kitchen stove was a wood burning range. When the lake was frozen we sometimes went ice boating. The boat was equipped with skate- like runners and a sail. It ran very fast and was difficult to navigate on the slick ice – really dangerous. My dad would ordinarily not let me do it but his long time bachelor clerk built a really neat one and I went many times – very fast. Lawrence was good looking, shy and spoke with a lisp but very trustworthy.

Living in such a wild environment we became familiar with death at an early age. My best friend Veronica, age 7, died of pneumonia. Victoria – same age- drowned in the creek that ran by their house. All were laid out in coffins for us to view and they looked terrible. Someone was always drowning in the summer or falling off a cliff or going through the ice on the frozen ponds. Ours were not man- made but natural hazards.

One day when Jack was picking huckleberries, he came upon a young bear cub in the forest and brought it home much to the consternation of Mac, our collie. Dad made him take it back to where he had picked it up; saying mother could be along any minute. From then on Jack acquired the nickname of ‘cub’.

We all skied. Our skis were turned out in dad’s factory. The bindings were a simple strap across the top of the foot and one around the heel. There were no ski hills or rope tows. We often hiked up to the old Silver King mine, and then skied down the road which was a series of switch-backs and horseshoe turns. We used one pole – which was just that – a sturdy branch.

There was a community of Doukobours not far from Nelson. These were Russians who rebelled against Lenin’s tyranny. They lived on communal farms with multi-family housing. Whatever produce they produced wheat, cattle, whatever – everything was shared. They came into town every Saturday and had produce stalls on Vernon St.

They objected to sending their children to school and would stage protest parades – naked. They tended to be obese, and had their own language and religion. They would occasionally blow up a rail-road bridge as a form of protest.

When their leader died, they wrapped his body in hundreds of yards of blue silk. They posted 24 hour guards at this tomb, so that the devil couldn’t come and steal the body.

I played soft-ball and basketball, the latter at the Parish hall during our gym period. We were bloomers for gym, which are like full cut pedal pushers gathered below the knee. We played badminton all winter and tennis in the summer. The boys played hockey, rugby, basketball and hunted and fished. I was the only one who played golf, which seemed a sissy game to them.

A lady barber used to cut my hair. There was one beauty shop in town where they did permanents etc. and I didn’t need that. This lady was a confirmed gossip and I grew to dislike her so I asked mom if I could cut my own. She laughed and told me to try it – nothing to it.

The main part of Kootenay Lake was about 100 miles long; Nelson was on the West Arm about 20 miles from the Min Lake. Just below our house the channel narrowed and the lake became a river. We could feel the current flowing past our point. The main beach, boathouse and dock were in a protected bay and we were not much affected by the current except at high water. Wind could generate huge waves on the Main Lake. Even at Nelson, a small vessel had better make for shore in a storm. My father was very strict about safety procedures around boats and docks.

One does not remember events sequentially so this whole narrative is rather disjointed. An Indian family came to our shore in a birch bark canoe and asked permission to camp on our land when they picked huckleberries. Mother gave them permission to use the site later sold to Dan and Dee (Desjardins) McKay. I was 5 or 6 and watched them from a distance, put off by their strange garb and appearance. But the boys helped tem cut the poles and erect their tepee. They were friendly and spoke English.

Indians must have resided on this property in the past. Bob showed them his flint collection. He also found a stone mortar. They used a mortar and pestle to grind their grain into flour. Bob was fascinated at an early age by the earth’s geology and was eternally searching and collecting rocks, shells and such along the shore. Forgot to mention how religious differences affected our lives. Dad went along with we children being raised Catholic and contributed a great deal to the school and parish – he built the convent. The nuns used our place across the lake for a retreat and our cars were often at their disposal. However, mother never ceased trying to convert him and it really was a constant source of friction in our house. Non-Catholics are not supposed to be buried in Catholic consecrated ground but my dad is buried there.

Dinty has a similar experience in his upbringing – two opposing religions to content with. So when we got married we wished to present a united front and chose a neutral religion – Episcopal. Our church was not too far and the children went to Sunday school for whatever benefit they derived from that. None are very religious but that may change as they see the end looking up.

My dad’s mother was Anne Buchan. Her brother’s son, John Buchan was appointed Governor General of Canada by the British Crown in 1935. I was training in Denver at the time I think it was extremely odd that I was not informed that father’s cousin was the Governor General until Uncle Harry wrote me. John was also an author and wrote “The 39 Steps” from which Alfred Hitchcock produced a movie. John was called Lord Tweedsmuir and Tweedsmuir Park in BC’s Chilcotin country was named for him.

The park was established in 1936 with approximately 3.5 million acres or 5400 square miles. National Geographic April 1938 issue has a 26 page article about the park written by Lady Tweedsmuir. There are many pictures. She states that the park is for the most part a high table land with an average elevation between two and three thousand feet most of it is a mosaic of noble lakes. I have that National Geographic issue if anyone would like copies.

Dad built a little rustic cedar summer house at the point and we frequently built a fire and had our dinners there. At night the reflection of the lights of Nelson on the water was beautiful. The CPR ran along the lake on the town side and the main highway was above it. All of us on the North Shore kept our boats in boathouse reached by wooden floats. Dad bought an old house near the waterfront on the Nelson side and used it for a garage and storage space.

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The little cedar shelter at the point often used for sleeping and tea parties

As we got older, we could row or take the outboard over town to go to the movies, a ball game or play tennis. Sometimes we took the street car to Lakeside Park. By age 14, I was on the tennis team and by 15; I was driving to nearby towns for tournaments.

Like most teenagers we were restless and dissatisfied with the status quo. My father sold his construction business in 1929. He and mother decided to build a summer resort at Ainsworth Hot Springs. Ainsworth is on the Main Lake some 28 miles from Nelson. They built a hotel and swimming pool and cottages. In order to prevent others from tapping into the hot springs, they had to buy up quite a bit f the town. Since it is only open in the summer, it wasn’t a very lucrative investment. There was a silver – lead ore vein under the property so they eventually sold it to a mining company.

I was 14-15 at the time. They did not spend much time across the lake that summer but we teens did. One night Gerry Dennison and I decided to we would go tom the rowing club dance. The clubhouse is a floating building. Everyone wore formals and we smuggled our across the lake. We are now 16-17 and the club members are all adults. We had a great time. About 11 PM, a fire broke out on Baker Street so we didn’t want to miss that so a group of us walked up. We sort of stood out in that crowd in our long formal dresses and who did we run into but Geryl’s parents. Disaster!

We had quite a few parties there. The glass tray on mother’s tea table was broken. I took it over to Angus McKenzie who ran dad’s millworks shop and he fixed it – no questions asked. Then my brother’s friends started snooping around and we decided to lock them out. In doing so the double hung window broke and dropped on Geryl’s hand cutting it badly. WE had to take her over town to have it stitched. Back to Angus to have the window glass replaced. He never squealed on us.

Started playing golf. My father owned a share in Country Club (helped build it) so I got to play free. None of my friends played so I played with the caddies who were kids I went to school with. By 15 I had a favourite boy friend. Very handsome with the very shiny, slicked down hair which was in vogue then a la Rudolph Valentino – the current movie idol. There was only one movie in town and it didn’t change shows too frequently so we were limited there. But lots of parties. My older brother and his friends had a band and played at dances and parties. Bob played the violin, Jack the saxophone and Ted the piano and trumpet.

In my earlier years there were few roads. What roads there were narrow and rough. They were mostly one-car wide. Whenever you met another car, one of the other would have to back up to the nearest turn out. The rugged winters were very rough on these dirt roads. The country spent all summer grading, repairing and filling pot holes. Then the winter came and tore them up again. Come spring back to the road repairs, detours, etc.

The Main Lake and West Arm were serviced by three paddle wheelers, the Nasookin, the Kuskanook and the Moyie. They handled all of the mail and freight and passengers that the trains didn’t.

I went to Cranbrook to visit friends. Ted drove me to Balfour where I took the Kuskanook to cross the Main Lake and my friends would meet me on the other side. My hat blew off the dock and the post-man retrieved it. He wore the standard mailman’s uniform, but went bare-foot all summer. Nobody cared!

Around town all of the freight, coal and wood were delivered by heavy drag-horses. The steep hills were very slippery and it was a long time before they were replaced by trucks. One winter a group of teenagers came speeding down the hill on a bob-sled about the time a horse and sleigh were crossing a lower street. They went under the horse and sleigh and all made it safely, except the last person – a girl- and the horse lost balance3 and fell on her. Instant death. Actually, one steep street was set aside for sledders, where a patrolman handled traffic. So they were sledding illegally. One of my older brothers’ friends came home drunk one night. Forgot his key so he settled down on the front porch – froze to death. It was not a forgiving climate.

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We had funny papers then. The Katzenjammer Kids – were always in trouble. And their father was always spanking them and the mother standing by and saying “What did dey done?”Then there was Happy Hooligan, Maggie and Jiggs, Moon Mullins. Grandma took the Glasgow Herald and always saved it for me for the cartoons.

Bob went away to Gonzaga University in Spokane. He was there at the same time as Bing Crosby, then unknown. Next year he went to Santa Clara, a university in California where he became interested in Geology. He switched to the Colorado School of Mines at Golden, Colorado – about 12 miles from Denver. Jack decided he wanted to be a Mining Engineer, so he also went to the Mining School Ted went to a private school in Vancouver and then to Santa Clara.

In the meantime, I wanted to go somewhere to school but dad wanted me to stay home and get married and he would build me a house on one of his lots, but I was not ready for domestic life.

In June 1933, the year I graduated from High School, Bob graduated as a Geologist and came home with two of his friends from Mines: Sal Cavello from Seattle and Bubbles from New York. Radium had been discovered in the pitch blend at Lake Athabasca in Northern Canada. Radium was then worth $5000.00 an ounce. They decided to take a prospecting survey and possibly stake some claims. All three of them were geologists. They bought their supplies, including a seventeen foot canoe, in Edmonton, Alberta. They took the train north of there as far as it went – about 400 miles – into the North West Territories – which is North of Canada between there and the Arctic Ocean. There are three big lakes. Lake Athabasca, Great Slave and Great Bear. The land is flat and full of lakes and swamps. They planned to canoe on the water areas and portage in between.

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Bob Burns. Colorado School of Mines Photo

When one enters the North West Territory which is bleak and sparsely populated, you register with the RCMP giving your approximate destination and expected time of arrival. The small villages are few and far between. If you don’t turn up according to your schedule, they start looking for you. Those big lakes are treacherous and when the wind blows up in that flat country, the waves can e as high and turbulent as ocean waves. Mother made them promise not to cross the lake but to skirt the shore. They left Fort McMurray and when they did not turn up at Fort Chipewyan on schedule. The police initiated a search and notified my parents.

There was an island mid way toward the lower part of the lake. Apparently they decided to take that route instead of going all the way around the lower end. They were caught in a big storm and never made it.

My Parents chartered a plane and searched that vast country but no sign of them. Sometime later, an Indian named peter Blue found Bob’s body. His fingernails were badly torn. Apparently there are steep cliffs along the shore and he could not get a handhold to pull himself up. He was buried at Fort Chippawyan.

At this tragic time, I was ready to graduate from high school –June 1933. There were four of us in our class. We all had to take a government exam which was required by all schools to maintain a certain standard of education. We always had more than enough units to enter any American university.

I applied for and was accepted by St. Vincent’s School of nursing in Portland OR. First the tonsils had to go and we were required to take a pre- nursing course at the University of Oregon’s medical school. I boarded with the school’s artist’s family on the north east side and back and forth to school with her.

Jack was still at Mines and lonesome without Bob. At that time, a Canadian could only attend an American school that was on a preferred list St. Joseph’s Nursing School went through whatever procedure required and then I discovered that their schedule differed from St.Vincent’s and I would have to repeat part of my probationary period. His wasn’t much of a deterrent so I proceeded to Denver

A Canadian, in order to obtain a student visa or a work permit was required to have a banker’s certification of my father’s ability to support me. A letter from the Chief of Police and a health certificate from a doctor. How did all those Mexicans and Asians get in here so easily? Jack belonged to the Kappa Sigma fraternity so I was invited to lots of Mines parties and dances and often had meals at the house. Jack was a good student – belonged to Tau Beta the honorary engineering society.

Jean wrote this in 1993 and died in 1998.

After she graduated from St. Joseph’s School of Nursing in Denver, she married C. A. ( Dinty) Moore who was in the newspaper business in Sacramento. She spent the rest of her life there. The last time she came to Nelson was in 1984 when she visited with her daughters Molly and Celia and two of her grandchildren – Meaghan and Katie.

 

Skiing at the Golf Course

Wednesday, January 17th, 2024

Skiing at The Golf Course

Skiing in Nelson has a surprisingly long history. I am not totally aware of all of it but I do know large parts of it especially the years when our hill was located above the golf course partly up the slope of Morning Mountain. Those were in the 1950’s – the years I started to ski. My first skis were a Christmas gift in about 1953. I dug them out a few years ago and was surprised they were still serviceable. Small and skinny but usable. Of course skiing is as much about looking hip and up to date with the latest and most expensive gear as it is how fast you can get down. So I just couldn’t use the old beat up boards. They were so old that you had to paint a base on them and apply wax. No steel edges and the harnesses were of the bear trap variety. The boots were old rubber gum boots.

The next year brought safety harnesses that snapped your foot right down and leather boots that did not wander but were hard and clunky to walk in. Indeed.

My uphill friends were among the first kids to use the new hill: Tom Ramsay, Gary Kilpatrick, Gary Higgs and Clare Palmer were in the first bunch. We would get up early and ski to the hill. Before it opened we were so ready to go that we sometimes skid up to the Silver King Mine so we could ski down the winding and super narrow road. We stopped for lunch and to feed the Camp Robbers half way up. One time we went into the cook house and I found a big jar of frozen peanut butter on a shelf above the stove. I tried to edge it down but misjudged and it fell on the stove top. The jar did not break but the stove top did

the stove I wiggled it to the edge and it fell on the stove. I cringed thinking of the mess it would make when it broke. It did not break or crack, the stove lid did.

We cleared out after that and braved the road down. The early skis were not so easy to turn so we simply crashed into most of the corners as we scooted down the hill. The best skiing was in the farm fields of Rosemont. In those years that’s largely what Rosemont was along with frequent patches of forest.

The ski hill was small but very interesting for young learners. The lift was a rope strung around the rim of a model A which sat on blocks at the bottom of the hill. The rope ran up to another rim in a tree some 500 m up the hill. From the tree, there was a narrow track that led to the main hill which featured a steep downhill pitch that climbed up to a flat where the Model A was situated. If you were fast enough on the downhill, you breezed up to the flat and right into the lineup

Since my pals and I were often the first skiers to arrive we sometimes had the hill to ourselves early in the day. We would ski down to a barn where the gas was stored, fill up the Model A then fire it up.

Next came a wild ride to the top. It was sometimes a more exciting ski up the rope than it was down the hill. If Gary Kilpatrick was running the Model A it was all one could do to hang on because he floored it. Eventually John Fink got hung up on the tree rim and we had a hard time getting him loose. That pretty well ended our manning the tow.

We started exploring around the golf course buildings poking our noses into places that were off limits. Eventually we found the beer.

If you reached into a crack in the building door you could feel open cases of beer. You couldn’t drag anything out or grab bottles but you could get a tenuous finger grip on the tops of some bottles. So we fished a few out from time to time and drank them in the woods on the way home. Gary Higgs drank a bunch one time and started doing flips off stumps. He was celebrating with vigor but no harm was done except perhaps to a few thirsty golfers in the summer

Skiing in Nelson has always been a quest for more reliable snow. It started in the Fairview Gravel Pit operated by my grandfather and great grandfather. This was OK for a few years but the club moved to the golf course and the lower slopes of Morning Mountain next. This was great fun but could not last as the weather became more unstable. By the late 1950s, it started to rain in the winter. I was shocked but it was by n means a common occurrence happening perhaps once or twice a year. But it was enough to spook the ski club into seeking higher ground. We started clearing Silver King, a densely forested slope off Ymir road. The forest was thicker than hair on a dog’s back and there was little merchantable timber in the mix. Most of the wood was stacked and burned.

I remember the first day we started. How discouraging it was to work in the thick cover of small hemlocks and Douglas fir with lodge pole pine. It seemed an impossible task but the stalwart skiers of Nelson soldiered on. Danny and Dee McKay, Fred and Edna Whitely, Walt and Naida Palmer, Bill Murphy, Bill and Buddy Ramsay and their kids. What seemed impossible happened in a couple of years there was a cleared hill and a T Bar.

I remember hauling up a part for the lift . It was a large square part that I hung around my neck. I walked up one of the old California Mine Roads and dropped the part at the top of the lift. To walk or ski down was the next question? It was getting dark and a long haul back down the road. I knew I would not be able to maintain control on the very steep and unpacked hill but went down anyway. The first idiot to schuss the Silver King. I fell about a third of the way down. It was a real tumble but no damage was done.

I skied at Silver King a fair bit more but we moved to California in 1958 there was excellent skiing there at places like Squaw Valley, Heavenly Valley and Mount Rose. I was not to ski in Nelson again until Whitewater came on. It was a crown land project and Al Raine (Provincial ski co-coordinator), myself (biologist) and Ross Lake (Nelson Ski Club) went up to finalize the Crown Agreement.

Finally Nelson had an alpine hill with enough elevation to stay above the mild, rainy days that now plague all the ski hills on this warming planet.

 

,,

 

Chester

Wednesday, January 17th, 2024

CHESTER

As I read thru Alex Kershaw’s Jack London – a Life it occurs to me that two of London’s most popular and acclaimed stories were about dogs. I was also a strong fan of dog stories and was almost always reading a Jack O Brien story like Silver Chief Dog of the North or something by James Oliver Curwood . Then I reasoned why read about them? We had a dog that was every bit as colourful and interesting as any dog of story: Chester was a big, brawling Chesapeake Bay Retriever that was our beloved family dog for about 15 years. We got him as a pup from the McQuarrie family who lived on the North Shore of Nelson near Gordon and Ramona Burn’s summer house off what is now Johnstone Road.

Little did we know that this innocent puppy would bring a rollicking life of good times and high adventure that had to be lived to be believed? Even now, I still marvel at the memories.

Chester became a large curly fellow who lived life to the fullest no matter where we lived. Life with Chess was one of constant surprise. One of the first was the realization that he hated cats. He didn’t just chase them, he killed them. When we lived on Kootenay Street, the old street car barns were next door. Feral cats hung out there and they occasionally wandered through our backyard. Chess was in vigilante mode and attacked when a cat showed. One day a smallish cat showed up and Chess chased him up small maple. As the cat paused to gloat, he forgot his tail was hanging down. Chess jumped up and grabbed it. Game over.

Chester also felt obliged to fight any dog he considered a challenge, so we had some wild brawls.

Chess.jpg

Chess was serious about these fights and some lasted a long time. A neighbour across the lake (Barbara Lang) had a large boxer who also didn’t mind a scrap. They tangled near Gram’s flower bed until they were absolutely spent. Beau (a white dog) was pink with spilled blood. I think Chess got the worst of it. He usually won the first parts of brawls from surprise. H e would charge his opponent bowling them over then go to work but when dogs survived the first hit, Chess could be in for a battle. In the end of this one Beau had Chess by the throat and would not let go. But Beau was holding on to the loose fur of Chester’s ruff doing no harm. Dad finally took the hose to the boneheads before they ran off to lick their wounds.

Chess also liked to eat and required a lot of food. Not long after we had Chess, a new Safeway store opened in Fairview. To mark the occasion, they had a dog food eating contest. Tommy took Chess to the contest that was no contest. They opened the cans of meat above the bowels and were going to spoon out the content. Chester’s meat came out in a one piece blob the shape of the can. Before it landed in the bowel, Chess has snapped it out of the air and swallowed it. He won hands down. Tommy was so proud.

beachboys.jpg

Chess at the beach with Tom and Ross and Rod McKay

Chesapeake’s are one of the best water dogs and Chester was true to form. He was always in or around the water whether there was someone to play with or not. He would fetch his own sticks and rocks and dive for bottles or cans from the boathouse. The dog was interested in everything to do with water. He would swim across the lake and follow us to school even if Mom locked him in the house for an hour or so. When we lived at Kootenay Street he often followed us to church On one occasion on a snowy day around Christmas we just settled our seats near the front of the church when there was a ruckus back by the door I felt a stab of panic. Could it be? He was not around when we left in a second or two there he was, Racing down the aisle. Covered with an inch of wet now. Deliriously happy to find his family. He climbed over everyone in the row shaking and wagging his tail as he passed and licking the faces of people he knew. When he reached us he would sit quietly and pretend to be listening to the sermon until the service ended, then he would charge outside and look for a dog to fight.

Another winter pastime was hockey. He would play with us all day and never seem to tire. On one occasion, he noticed a small flock of mallards keeping a patch of water open by swimming around and around so it would not freeze

Chess charged and launched himself after the ducks. He swam around chasing them for a long time. We thought he might freeze. But he climbed and shook like it was a summer day then resumed chasing the puck as he turned white with frost and his feet bled on the ice.

When I took him fishing he would sit by the rod tip waiting for a bite then launch himself into the water to grab the fish which was usually swimming to freedom by then, Chess would swim in circles looking for it for the longest time. I should have left him home but didn’t have the

Heart for it besides he would eventually show up anyway chesschamp.JPG

Tommy left ad Chess at Safeway openingin t 195? when Chess won a dog food eating cpntest

Chess was a dog with low impulse control. He was also a glutton.

In the spring I would take him walking along the west part of the beach where there were salt licks. We would get spring water Gram liked for her tea then cut up to the orchard and circle back home. The snow was melting and we found a dead coyote by the spring. I had a quick look and carried on. The carcass was in a state of decomposition. Indeed. I was almost home when I noticed Chess wasn’t with me. I

circled back and sure enough he had devoured the coyote maggots and all!

In summers we often had supper on the porch and food would sometimes sit for awhile unattended. This was too much for Chess. He grabbed both a turkey and a ham and ran for cover. Both times dad hacked him pretty good with a hockey stick but it hardly fazed him. Food was never left to sit again.

Another revelation was his hatred of squirrels. They seemed to know and relish in taunting him. There was a giant fir beside our driveway and a little red squirrel would dash out on the trunk and scold Chester to the edge of madness. He never got within reach of Chester but came pretty close.

In 1958 it was off to California and a new set of adventures. First we lived in Sunnyvale where Chester indulged himself with neighbourhood females. A poodle next door was the first victim so Chess-a-poos added diversity to the local fauna. He could not be contained there either even by a high fence. I watched him leap it one time. He ran at it and leaped high getting his front feet a bit over it. Then he pulled himself up and over.

Next stop was Los Altos where there was a ravine with a seasonal creek and some large oak trees with squirrels! Large California Grey Squirrels who delighted in taunting Chester. They knew where he rested beside a sliding glass door looking over the back yard. The squirrels would sneak right up to the door and chatter at the dog that was usually not asleep. He was waiting for his chance.

One day I left the door open and Chess got his chance. The pair of squirrel’s had a last taunt then headed for the oaks. Chester roared like a Lion but could not do any damage. One squirrel ran out on a limb above Chess lifted his leg then pissed on the enraged dog. I have never seen an animal go as Crazy. The squirrel panicked and ran further out. Chess leaped onto the branch ran right behind the rodent and almost caught him. The squirrel jumped on to the nearby fence and kept going. Chess was hot on his tail. but could not quite connect. One last lunge and the dog fell off the two by four fence top landing on his tail and breaking it.

That was more or less the end of the adventure. He got in one more battle with a big chow. He ran right into the dog’s garage where a lady was hanging clothes on one those collapsible wooden holders. The lady and the rack got knocked over and the chow got roughed up but it was a good scrap and the chow did well. I guess that’s when I realized that Chess was not indestructible. We went back to Nelson after that and he took up his old place sleeping by the fridge with one eye opened in case someone tossed him a wiener. Or he would go for walks with us but he wasn’t quite up to it. He would get too far then cry out in pain. We had to pack him back to the ranch. By then he was a real heavy weight and no one could carry him safely. It wasn’t long then,

good bye old partner I hope you are by a good lake in squirrel country where they are not too quick. I think of you often and miss every moment we were together. Sometimes I look for your tracks on the beach. They are never there anymore.

CHESTER

As I read thru Alex Kershaw’s Jack London – a Life it occurs to me that two of London’s most popular and acclaimed stories were about dogs. I was also a strong fan of dog stories and was almost always reading a Jack O Brien story like Silver Chief Dog of the North or something by James Oliver Curwood . Then I reasoned why read about them? We had a dog that was every bit as colourful and interesting as any dog of story: Chester was a big, brawling Chesapeake Bay Retriever that was our beloved family dog for about 15 years. We got him as a pup from the McQuarrie family who lived on the North Shore of Nelson near Gordon and Ramona Burn’s summer house off what is now Johnstone Road.

Little did we know that this innocent puppy would bring a rollicking life of good times and high adventure that had to be lived to be believed? Even now, I still marvel at the memories.

Chester became a large curly fellow who lived life to the fullest no matter where we lived. Life with Chess was one of constant surprise. One of the first was the realization that he hated cats. He didn’t just chase them, he killed them. When we lived on Kootenay Street, the old street car barns were next door. Feral cats hung out there and they occasionally wandered through our backyard. Chess was in vigilante mode and attacked when a cat showed. One day a smallish cat showed up and Chess chased him up small maple. As the cat paused to gloat, he forgot his tail was hanging down. Chess jumped up and grabbed it. Game over.

Chester also felt obliged to fight any dog he considered a challenge, so we had some wild brawls.

Chess.jpg

Chess was serious about these fights and some lasted a long time. A neighbour across the lake (Barbara Lang) had a large boxer who also didn’t mind a scrap. They tangled near Gram’s flower bed until they were absolutely spent. Beau (a white dog) was pink with spilled blood. I think Chess got the worst of it. He usually won the first parts of brawls from surprise. H e would charge his opponent bowling them over then go to work but when dogs survived the first hit, Chess could be in for a battle. In the end of this one Beau had Chess by the throat and would not let go. But Beau was holding on to the loose fur of Chester’s ruff doing no harm. Dad finally took the hose to the boneheads before they ran off to lick their wounds.

Chess also liked to eat and required a lot of food. Not long after we had Chess, a new Safeway store opened in Fairview. To mark the occasion, they had a dog food eating contest. Tommy took Chess to the contest that was no contest. They opened the cans of meat above the bowels and were going to spoon out the content. Chester’s meat came out in a one piece blob the shape of the can. Before it landed in the bowel, Chess has snapped it out of the air and swallowed it. He won hands down. Tommy was so proud.

beachboys.jpg

Chess at the beach with Tom and Ross and Rod McKay

Chesapeake’s are one of the best water dogs and Chester was true to form. He was always in or around the water whether there was someone to play with or not. He would fetch his own sticks and rocks and dive for bottles or cans from the boathouse. The dog was interested in everything to do with water. He would swim across the lake and follow us to school even if Mom locked him in the house for an hour or so. When we lived at Kootenay Street he often followed us to church On one occasion on a snowy day around Christmas we just settled our seats near the front of the church when there was a ruckus back by the door I felt a stab of panic. Could it be? He was not around when we left in a second or two there he was, Racing down the aisle. Covered with an inch of wet now. Deliriously happy to find his family. He climbed over everyone in the row shaking and wagging his tail as he passed and licking the faces of people he knew. When he reached us he would sit quietly and pretend to be listening to the sermon until the service ended, then he would charge outside and look for a dog to fight.

Another winter pastime was hockey. He would play with us all day and never seem to tire. On one occasion, he noticed a small flock of mallards keeping a patch of water open by swimming around and around so it would not freeze

Chess charged and launched himself after the ducks. He swam around chasing them for a long time. We thought he might freeze. But he climbed and shook like it was a summer day then resumed chasing the puck as he turned white with frost and his feet bled on the ice.

When I took him fishing he would sit by the rod tip waiting for a bite then launch himself into the water to grab the fish which was usually swimming to freedom by then, Chess would swim in circles looking for it for the longest time. I should have left him home but didn’t have the

Heart for it besides he would eventually show up anyway chesschamp.JPG

Tommy left ad Chess at Safeway openingin t 195? when Chess won a dog food eating cpntest

Chess was a dog with low impulse control. He was also a glutton.

In the spring I would take him walking along the west part of the beach where there were salt licks. We would get spring water Gram liked for her tea then cut up to the orchard and circle back home. The snow was melting and we found a dead coyote by the spring. I had a quick look and carried on. The carcass was in a state of decomposition. Indeed. I was almost home when I noticed Chess wasn’t with me. I

circled back and sure enough he had devoured the coyote maggots and all!

In summers we often had supper on the porch and food would sometimes sit for awhile unattended. This was too much for Chess. He grabbed both a turkey and a ham and ran for cover. Both times dad hacked him pretty good with a hockey stick but it hardly fazed him. Food was never left to sit again.

Another revelation was his hatred of squirrels. They seemed to know and relish in taunting him. There was a giant fir beside our driveway and a little red squirrel would dash out on the trunk and scold Chester to the edge of madness. He never got within reach of Chester but came pretty close.

In 1958 it was off to California and a new set of adventures. First we lived in Sunnyvale where Chester indulged himself with neighbourhood females. A poodle next door was the first victim so Chess-a-poos added diversity to the local fauna. He could not be contained there either even by a high fence. I watched him leap it one time. He ran at it and leaped high getting his front feet a bit over it. Then he pulled himself up and over.

Next stop was Los Altos where there was a ravine with a seasonal creek and some large oak trees with squirrels! Large California Grey Squirrels who delighted in taunting Chester. They knew where he rested beside a sliding glass door looking over the back yard. The squirrels would sneak right up to the door and chatter at the dog that was usually not asleep. He was waiting for his chance.

One day I left the door open and Chess got his chance. The pair of squirrel’s had a last taunt then headed for the oaks. Chester roared like a Lion but could not do any damage. One squirrel ran out on a limb above Chess lifted his leg then pissed on the enraged dog. I have never seen an animal go as Crazy. The squirrel panicked and ran further out. Chess leaped onto the branch ran right behind the rodent and almost caught him. The squirrel jumped on to the nearby fence and kept going. Chess was hot on his tail. but could not quite connect. One last lunge and the dog fell off the two by four fence top landing on his tail and breaking it.

That was more or less the end of the adventure. He got in one more battle with a big chow. He ran right into the dog’s garage where a lady was hanging clothes on one those collapsible wooden holders. The lady and the rack got knocked over and the chow got roughed up but it was a good scrap and the chow did well. I guess that’s when I realized that Chess was not indestructible. We went back to Nelson after that and he took up his old place sleeping by the fridge with one eye opened in case someone tossed him a wiener. Or he would go for walks with us but he wasn’t quite up to it. He would get too far then cry out in pain. We had to pack him back to the ranch. By then he was a real heavy weight and no one could carry him safely. It wasn’t long then,

good bye old partner I hope you are by a good lake in squirrel country where they are not too quick. I think of you often and miss every moment we were together. Sometimes I look for your tracks on the beach. They are never there anymore.

CHESTER

As I read thru Alex Kershaw’s Jack London – a Life it occurs to me that two of London’s most popular and acclaimed stories were about dogs. I was also a strong fan of dog stories and was almost always reading a Jack O Brien story like Silver Chief Dog of the North or something by James Oliver Curwood . Then I reasoned why read about them? We had a dog that was every bit as colourful and interesting as any dog of story: Chester was a big, brawling Chesapeake Bay Retriever that was our beloved family dog for about 15 years. We got him as a pup from the McQuarrie family who lived on the North Shore of Nelson near Gordon and Ramona Burn’s summer house off what is now Johnstone Road.

Little did we know that this innocent puppy would bring a rollicking life of good times and high adventure that had to be lived to be believed? Even now, I still marvel at the memories.

Chester became a large curly fellow who lived life to the fullest no matter where we lived. Life with Chess was one of constant surprise. One of the first was the realization that he hated cats. He didn’t just chase them, he killed them. When we lived on Kootenay Street, the old street car barns were next door. Feral cats hung out there and they occasionally wandered through our backyard. Chess was in vigilante mode and attacked when a cat showed. One day a smallish cat showed up and Chess chased him up small maple. As the cat paused to gloat, he forgot his tail was hanging down. Chess jumped up and grabbed it. Game over.

Chester also felt obliged to fight any dog he considered a challenge, so we had some wild brawls.

Chess.jpg

Chess was serious about these fights and some lasted a long time. A neighbour across the lake (Barbara Lang) had a large boxer who also didn’t mind a scrap. They tangled near Gram’s flower bed until they were absolutely spent. Beau (a white dog) was pink with spilled blood. I think Chess got the worst of it. He usually won the first parts of brawls from surprise. H e would charge his opponent bowling them over then go to work but when dogs survived the first hit, Chess could be in for a battle. In the end of this one Beau had Chess by the throat and would not let go. But Beau was holding on to the loose fur of Chester’s ruff doing no harm. Dad finally took the hose to the boneheads before they ran off to lick their wounds.

Chess also liked to eat and required a lot of food. Not long after we had Chess, a new Safeway store opened in Fairview. To mark the occasion, they had a dog food eating contest. Tommy took Chess to the contest that was no contest. They opened the cans of meat above the bowels and were going to spoon out the content. Chester’s meat came out in a one piece blob the shape of the can. Before it landed in the bowel, Chess has snapped it out of the air and swallowed it. He won hands down. Tommy was so proud.

beachboys.jpg

Chess at the beach with Tom and Ross and Rod McKay

Chesapeake’s are one of the best water dogs and Chester was true to form. He was always in or around the water whether there was someone to play with or not. He would fetch his own sticks and rocks and dive for bottles or cans from the boathouse. The dog was interested in everything to do with water. He would swim across the lake and follow us to school even if Mom locked him in the house for an hour or so. When we lived at Kootenay Street he often followed us to church On one occasion on a snowy day around Christmas we just settled our seats near the front of the church when there was a ruckus back by the door I felt a stab of panic. Could it be? He was not around when we left in a second or two there he was, Racing down the aisle. Covered with an inch of wet now. Deliriously happy to find his family. He climbed over everyone in the row shaking and wagging his tail as he passed and licking the faces of people he knew. When he reached us he would sit quietly and pretend to be listening to the sermon until the service ended, then he would charge outside and look for a dog to fight.

Another winter pastime was hockey. He would play with us all day and never seem to tire. On one occasion, he noticed a small flock of mallards keeping a patch of water open by swimming around and around so it would not freeze

Chess charged and launched himself after the ducks. He swam around chasing them for a long time. We thought he might freeze. But he climbed and shook like it was a summer day then resumed chasing the puck as he turned white with frost and his feet bled on the ice.

When I took him fishing he would sit by the rod tip waiting for a bite then launch himself into the water to grab the fish which was usually swimming to freedom by then, Chess would swim in circles looking for it for the longest time. I should have left him home but didn’t have the

Heart for it besides he would eventually show up anyway chesschamp.JPG

Tommy left ad Chess at Safeway openingin t 195? when Chess won a dog food eating cpntest

Chess was a dog with low impulse control. He was also a glutton.

In the spring I would take him walking along the west part of the beach where there were salt licks. We would get spring water Gram liked for her tea then cut up to the orchard and circle back home. The snow was melting and we found a dead coyote by the spring. I had a quick look and carried on. The carcass was in a state of decomposition. Indeed. I was almost home when I noticed Chess wasn’t with me. I

circled back and sure enough he had devoured the coyote maggots and all!

In summers we often had supper on the porch and food would sometimes sit for awhile unattended. This was too much for Chess. He grabbed both a turkey and a ham and ran for cover. Both times dad hacked him pretty good with a hockey stick but it hardly fazed him. Food was never left to sit again.

Another revelation was his hatred of squirrels. They seemed to know and relish in taunting him. There was a giant fir beside our driveway and a little red squirrel would dash out on the trunk and scold Chester to the edge of madness. He never got within reach of Chester but came pretty close.

In 1958 it was off to California and a new set of adventures. First we lived in Sunnyvale where Chester indulged himself with neighbourhood females. A poodle next door was the first victim so Chess-a-poos added diversity to the local fauna. He could not be contained there either even by a high fence. I watched him leap it one time. He ran at it and leaped high getting his front feet a bit over it. Then he pulled himself up and over.

Next stop was Los Altos where there was a ravine with a seasonal creek and some large oak trees with squirrels! Large California Grey Squirrels who delighted in taunting Chester. They knew where he rested beside a sliding glass door looking over the back yard. The squirrels would sneak right up to the door and chatter at the dog that was usually not asleep. He was waiting for his chance.

One day I left the door open and Chess got his chance. The pair of squirrel’s had a last taunt then headed for the oaks. Chester roared like a Lion but could not do any damage. One squirrel ran out on a limb above Chess lifted his leg then pissed on the enraged dog. I have never seen an animal go as Crazy. The squirrel panicked and ran further out. Chess leaped onto the branch ran right behind the rodent and almost caught him. The squirrel jumped on to the nearby fence and kept going. Chess was hot on his tail. but could not quite connect. One last lunge and the dog fell off the two by four fence top landing on his tail and breaking it.

That was more or less the end of the adventure. He got in one more battle with a big chow. He ran right into the dog’s garage where a lady was hanging clothes on one those collapsible wooden holders. The lady and the rack got knocked over and the chow got roughed up but it was a good scrap and the chow did well. I guess that’s when I realized that Chess was not indestructible. We went back to Nelson after that and he took up his old place sleeping by the fridge with one eye opened in case someone tossed him a wiener. Or he would go for walks with us but he wasn’t quite up to it. He would get too far then cry out in pain. We had to pack him back to the ranch. By then he was a real heavy weight and no one could carry him safely. It wasn’t long then,

good bye old partner I hope you are by a good lake in squirrel country where they are not too quick. I think of you often and miss every moment we were together. Sometimes I look for your tracks on the beach. They are never there anymore.

 

Rock and Roll Comes to Nelson

Friday, December 29th, 2023

ROCK AND ROLL COMES TO NELSON

I’ve been thinking about it for years and remembering how very exciting it was when rock and roll music started seeping into the Kootenays. The music may have come in a wild rush in other places but in the mountain girt fortresses of Kootenay towns like Nelson and Trail it just kind of edged its way into the collective consciousness. There was just one radio program that played popular music. It was called “the hit parade” and was on CBC on Saturdays. I recall that it wasn’t very popular and played mostly soft pre rock tunes by Teresa Brewer, Patty Page, Sonny James and the Four Lads. Nelson had a radio station but it wasn’t much for the teenage crowd either. It catered more to Sunday church goers but you might hear ‘How Much is that Doggy in the Window’ or some nice Christmas tunes if you were lucky. Nelson was not one of those towns where preachers warned against“the devils” music and ranted about sin and damnation from the pulpit. I sometimes wonder why this was so. Like most places in Canada, Nelson was not a place for hell fire preachers and the most popular rockers in these parts were not the sinister hide your daughters- ­in –the- closet boys like Elvis or Eddie Cochran but a pleasant middle aged fellow with a kiss curl – Bill Haley and his Comets. They played innocent songs like Rock Around the Clock, See You Later Alligator and Shake Rattle and Roll. There was only a few other ‘acceptable’ musicians around. Pat Boone was a favorite of my cousin Peggy and I even liked some of his songs. He was no threat to anyone and would probably take your daughters to church.

It wasn’t long before the next wave hit the Kootenays and it rammed hard and

loud. The second wave brought the likes of Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, the Everly Brothers, Fats Domino, Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis ­ Gangs of leapers and screamers. Sam Phillips once said that if someone came along that sung black music but was white, that music would take over. For several years, I thought Elvis was a black man. And then I saw one of his album covers. His music certainly did take over the airwaves as he pumped out an endless load of hits. Some local guys jumped on and were quite talented Muggsy Holmes did well by doing Elvis and Buddy Holly tunes. Muggs went on to become an Elvis Impersonator. He was very good.

This second wave was very strong in some ways the strongest and most durable but it was not strong enough to fend off the next or third wave which featured the Beatles and the Rolling Stones along with a host of other British bands: the Animals, Dave Clark Five and the Yard birds which would morph into Led Zeppelin

Never mind the great American groups that quickly came on stream. Jefferson Airplane, Neil Young, Beach Boys and the like.

After that the music headed off in many different directions , some of it was very good but is was not the same and never will be again. It is old hat now. The excitement of new young music that could make you jump out of your wheel chair and race around the living room or dance floor has faded into a kind of quick sand of sameness and what has tried to edge into the void left by the great rockers is a horrid mess of non music called hip hop or rap. Nothing but a racket

Good for pulling teeth or drowning out the sounds of war.

But that is likely what our parents thought of rock and roll so perhaps a kind of acceptance will eventually come. It will take a long time for me.

Ted Burns

December 2022

ROCK AND ROLL COMES TO NELSON

I’ve been thinking about it for years and remembering how very exciting it was when rock and roll music started seeping into the Kootenays. The music may have come in a wild rush in other places but in the mountain girt fortresses of Kootenay towns like Nelson and Trail it just kind of edged its way into the collective consciousness. There was just one radio program that played popular music. It was called “the hit parade” and was on CBC on Saturdays. I recall that it wasn’t very popular and played mostly soft pre rock tunes by Teresa Brewer, Patty Page, Sonny James and the Four Lads. Nelson had a radio station but it wasn’t much for the teenage crowd either. It catered more to Sunday church goers but you might hear ‘How Much is that Doggy in the Window’ or some nice Christmas tunes if you were lucky. Nelson was not one of those towns where preachers warned against“the devils” music and ranted about sin and damnation from the pulpit. I sometimes wonder why this was so. Like most places in Canada, Nelson was not a place for hell fire preachers and the most popular rockers in these parts were not the sinister hide your daughters- ­in –the- closet boys like Elvis or Eddie Cochran but a pleasant middle aged fellow with a kiss curl – Bill Haley and his Comets. They played innocent songs like Rock Around the Clock, See You Later Alligator and Shake Rattle and Roll. There was only a few other ‘acceptable’ musicians around. Pat Boone was a favorite of my cousin Peggy and I even liked some of his songs. He was no threat to anyone and would probably take your daughters to church.

It wasn’t long before the next wave hit the Kootenays and it rammed hard and

loud. The second wave brought the likes of Elvis Presley, Chuck Berry, the Everly Brothers, Fats Domino, Little Richard and Jerry Lee Lewis ­ Gangs of leapers and screamers. Sam Phillips once said that if someone came along that sung black music but was white, that music would take over. For several years, I thought Elvis was a black man. And then I saw one of his album covers. His music certainly did take over the airwaves as he pumped out an endless load of hits. Some local guys jumped on and were quite talented Muggsy Holmes did well by doing Elvis and Buddy Holly tunes. Muggs went on to become an Elvis Impersonator. He was very good.

This second wave was very strong in some ways the strongest and most durable but it was not strong enough to fend off the next or third wave which featured the Beatles and the Rolling Stones along with a host of other British bands: the Animals, Dave Clark Five and the Yard birds which would morph into Led Zeppelin

Never mind the great American groups that quickly came on stream. Jefferson Airplane, Neil Young, Beach Boys and the like.

After that the music headed off in many different directions , some of it was very good but is was not the same and never will be again. It is old hat now. The excitement of new young music that could make you jump out of your wheel chair and race around the living room or dance floor has faded into a kind of quick sand of sameness and what has tried to edge into the void left by the great rockers is a horrid mess of non music called hip hop or rap. Nothing but a racket

Good for pulling teeth or drowning out the sounds of war.

But that is likely what our parents thought of rock and roll so perhaps a kind of acceptance will eventually come. It will take a long time for me.

Ted Burns

December 2022

 

THE GIANTS OF GERRARD

Friday, December 29th, 2023

gerrardbrochure.jpg

The Giants of Gerrard

Under ordinary circumstances, the ghost village of Gerrard might have easily been long forgotten like so many others of its kind including some of its neighbours like Poplar Creek and Gold Hill. But this place is famous, not only in British Columbia but in many other parts of the world because it is here in the first few hundred meters of Lardeau River where it leaves Trout Lake, that the world’s largest form of rainbow trout returns to spawn each spring.

Historical Background

From about 1902 until the Second World War, Gerrard was the terminus of the Kootenay and Arrowhead Line of the Canadian Pacific Railway. Western Canada Timber moved an old mill down from Trout Lake City, refurbished it and built a new mill, camp and town site at Gerrard. My great Uncle  Harry Burns  was the logging boss. There was even a post office. A steamer ran from Gerrard to Trout Lake City but the line was never extended to Arrowhead. The tracks on this unique railroad which featured truck trains that could be turned by hand at a turntable at Gerrard were pulled in 1942. The rail bed has been used as a road since then. Even in its heyday, Gerrard was a quite village  unlike some of the roaring mining camps of the Lardeau District. A fish hatchery

and egg taking station operated off and on from 1912 to 1952 and eggs were shipped around the world

funnytrain.jpg

Truck train on the way to Gerrard (Arrow Lakes Historical Society)

When early residents first noticed the big trout, they naturally assumed the fish dropped down from Trout Lake. So did the Dept. of Fisheries and a fence and trapping facilities were built facing upstream. Imagine the fishery officers’ surprise in the spring of 1914 when they saw fish accumulating below the fence

The fish were coming from Kootenay Lake. Realizing their mistake the officers developed an elaborate method to catch the fish. A large seine net was attached to the Gerrard Bridge then thrown into the river to float past a number of fish. It was then quickly drawn in and the spawners were transferred to holding pens to ripen. They were then spawned by hand and released. The eggs were reared at Gerrard or nearby hatcheries at Lardo, Argenta, Kaslo or Nelson. Some were even shipped to more distant hatcheries in BC or the US. After 1939, shipments were increased with the hope of starting populations elsewhere. Success was negligible and, by the 1940’s, The Gerrard run started to decline. By the mid 1950’s, the run had been reduced to 40-50 fish. There were other reasons for the decline, it was more than the generous gifts of eggs and fry to other states and countries Fishing pressure was increasing in Kootenay Lake aided by the Nelson Gyro Derby and the increasing size and comfort of boats and especially the reliability of outboard motors. Kootenay is a large and dangerous lake where violent storms can kick up quickly. It was an anglers’ worst nightmare to be caught out in the middle of Kootenay Lake with a storm on the horizon yanking on the starting rope in of one of those old outboards. The massive Handy Creek log jam was also problematical in hindering the fish from reaching Gerrard. In the early 1950’s the egg station closed, the log jam cleared and the derby discontinued. A nutrification program was also instituted to increase the plankton supply for kokanee and some Gerrard rainbows were reared at Meadow Creek. The returns gradually improved until the peak returns were around 1000 in 2011. Biologists believe that peak spawner counts only represent a half to one third of the actual population size This is fortunate because these fish are a world class resource and one of the regions greatest assets and they spawn nowhere else, A small but unknown number spawned in the Duncan River below Duncan Lake but they were eliminated by Duncan Dam (as were many Bull Trout and kokanee). A few also spawned on a gravel bar near Balfour and may still do.

The Gerrard Spawning Site

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A beautiful female rainbow on the spawning site at Gerrard

Other, smaller forms of Kootenay Lake rainbow spawn in other places, it is almost certain that the large fish spawn nowhere else now. Why? There are many other large creeks with what looks like suitable spawning gravel and many miles of the Lardeau River below Gerrard. Why don’t some of the fish spawn there?

The eggs of trout and salmon require a clean and relatively stable gravel environment for optimal survival. Trout Lake acts as a huge settling basin for mountain creek sediment and stabilizes flow. As a result, much of the 400m section of the Lardeau between the lake and Mobbs Creek, the first unstable and sediment laden tributary, is ideal spawning habitat. The gravel is very clean, flow fluctuation is minimal and temperature is a little warmer and more conducive to egg development. Water is drawn from a large warming surface instead of melting from snow and glaciers most other Kootenay Lake tributaries and the Lardeau below Mobbs Creek become galloping torrents of cold and dirty melt water during the rainbow egg incubation period. Any eggs deposited in these places would be crushed or washed away Kokanee, Bull Trout and whitefish spawn in many of these non-buffered streams but they do so in the fall before the creeks run wild. Egg to fry survival at Gerrard is estimated to be at least 50 per cent. This is about five times greater than most other rainbow spawning runs.

Other features of the site that are conducive to the perpetuation of the big rainbows are its large gravel and relatively swift flow. The riverbed is composed of large gravel and small boulders under flows that are heavier than most other rainbow spawning streams. Therefore larger individuals are favoured because they are more able to hold a position and excavate redds in the substrate. It’s a matter of natural selection.

Life History

In spring when most low elevation snow is gone and streamside leaf buds are swelling, big Kootenay Lake rainbows begin to make their way up the Lardeau. The migration begins late in April and is generally over by late May. Most of the fish move by night and reach Gerrard in about 13 days. Peak spawning is early May.

When the trout are ready to spawn, the females selects a site digs a nest (red) with strong flexes of her tail and lower body, When her work is complete, both sexes settle into the red and release eggs and sperm. The female moves upstream to cover the red and the pair move to a nearby location to repeat the process until most of the eggs are deposited. The average female carries about 8000 eggs but not all of them can be released. About 10 per cent are retained and absorbed.

Several thousand whitefish are also hanging around Gerrard in the rainbow spawning period. These opportunists drop down from Trout Lake hoping to pick up a few loose eggs. They get a few but are no threat to the trout. A few suckers also spawn at Gerrard. They are no threat.

After about six weeks in the gravel, the eggs hatch and the fry struggle up to the stream. They hide in the stones of the red for a few days then work their way over to the calmer water of the stream margins and begin feeding on zooplankton that drift down from Trout Lake and larval forms of river insects. After a few weeks of growth in the excellent rearing conditions provided by the warmer, clear water and zooplankton provided by Trout Lake, many rainbow fry move down to Kootenay Lake under the cover of night. Those that survive the perils of 65 km of sometimes raging river make the lake in late summer. Larger portions of the little trout remain in the river until the following spring. They move down more gradually and feed along the way.

When the young rainbows reach Kootenay Lake they are from seven to fifteen centimetres long. They spend most of their first years feeding hard and after two or three years he fish are about 40 cm long begin to attack kokanee and grow rapidly. After a couple of more years, the Gerrard rainbows are trophy fish that weigh as much as 16 kilos their average weight is closer to 8 kilos. The largest Gerrard rainbow ever caught was 23.6 kilograms or 52 pounds. It was taken from Jewel Lake near Greenwood. Its remarkable size resulted from the fact that it was one of a few fish introduced to a lake with lots of forage fish. Kootenay Lake was 35.5 pounds taken in 1975 by George Hill of Grey Creek. Unlike many form of rainbow, the Gerrard are voracious fish eaters. It is because of this habit that they grow much larger than average rainbows. I was once employed by the BC Fish and Wildlife Branch to examine the gut content of big rainbow guts turned into Kaslo Marine Service or Fred Jones. Almost every gut was stuffed with kokanee save the

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A trophy Kootenay Lake rainbow

very odd one that was full of Carpenter ants.

After 4 -6 years of life in Kootenay Lake, the rainbows begin to mature and feel the pull of their natal stream. In the autumns and winter of their maturity, they lose the bright vitality of youth and take on a more e sombre appearance. Their backs, heads, flanks and fins darken and their bellies have a dishwater coloration. The pink flush on their sides becomes a more vivid red stripe and males jaws become hooked and elongated; they will be heading for Gerrard soon where many will end their lives. Few die immediately after spawning but only 5 to 10 per cent will survive to spawn again. Rainbow trout are aggressive on their spawning grounds. The males battle frequently. Spawning is a stressful event. If the fish survive the rigours of spawning, they still have to contend with 65 kilometres of icy, turbulent and almost foodless water between mobs Creek and Kootenay Lake. The fish that make the lake are quite susceptible to angling –they are very hungry, A few very strong fish are able to cope with all this and some even survive a second spawning. One really remarkable fish lived 14 years and spawned at least three times. An angler found it floundering on the surface near Lardo and brought the skinny, beat up fish into the Fisheries Research Station in Nelson. Normal rainbow trout are fortunate to live much be yond 3 or 4 years. Their long life is another reason Gerrards can attain such large size.

Management

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A West Arm kokanee

Stock protection is the foremost priority. Catch regulations have been appropriately conservative and habitat protection has been strong.

There have been problems with logging in the Lardeau Region but as far as I know, it has been controlled. The Forest Service is now a more active player in habitat protection. The Lardeau River and associated lateral waters have been closed for decades to protect adult migrants and young fish. An occasional Bull Trout is poached from the Lardeau but this is becoming rare, the north end of Kootenay Lake has long been closed.

Despite these efforts, Kootenay Lake has been experiencing fisheries and ecological woes. In the 1960’s, eutrophication caused by input of fertilizer from a Cominco (now Teck) Plant in the East Kootenay caused havoc in the West Arm. Then came the opposite: after Libby Reservoir became operational. The reservoir caught the nutrients and processed them in the basin leaving little for Kootenay Lake. There was a kokanee crash due to the nutrient loss and greedy fishermen. Nutrients were added and recovery was well underway but as of 2013, there has been another kokanee decline. Some think the build up of rainbows may have played a role by cropping the silvers too much. The rainbows themselves are said to still be strong just not as large.

Aside from nutrient restoration, a lot of effort has been expended to shore up kokanee. The Meadow Creek spawning channel was constructed to compensate for Duncan Dan cutting off huge numbers. Other spawning channels at Kokanee and Redfish Creeks have been added. Catch has been highly reduced. But Kootenay kokanee numbers remain low and the population has proven quite fragile despite huge numbers at some points.

I am confident that biologists will eventually get it right and attention can be directed to other Kootenay Lake fisheries like the long neglected West Arm

Rainbow fishery which was once far more popular than the Main Lake troll fishery for the Gerrard Giants and Bull Trout. The West Arm rainbows were usually much smaller than the Gerarrd fish but they are right in the lap of Nelson and supported a strong local fishery with occasional big fish and nice average size of some 40 plus cm. With some god fortune and perseverance, all of the spectacular Kootenay Lake fisheries will be restored to their full glory and the Gerrard Giants will continue on as the world’s finest specimen of rainbow trout.

This is an update of a 1981 brochure prepared for the BC Fish and Wildlife Branch by Ted Burns. Art Work by Jack Grundle.

Ted Burns

August 20/2020

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A lovely West Arm rainbow

 

DOWNHILL DEER – OR NOT?

Friday, December 22nd, 2023

THE LAKE NEWS, Lake Cowichan, B.C. Wednesday November 30, 1988

Deer on decline? Or Not?

By Ted Burns

I’ve forgotten the year but it wasn’t more than 10 or 12 years ago. I was searching for a waterfall on the east fork of the Robertson River when I came across a large rut in the ground, almost a trench. I scratched my head for a while before realizing what I’d found: an old deer runway (trail) from the days when the Cowichan Lake area had one of the largest deer populations on Vancouver Island. Those times are long gone. Deer have declined remarkably here and all over the island in the last few decades. The main reason …the tight canopy of second growth forests.

Early logging and accompanying fires created a bonanza for deer. Thousands of hectares of new slash and nutritious browse. And there was still lots of old growth to provide food and shelter in harsh winters. Deer became as numer­ous as grasshoppers in the dry fields of August. In the Nimpkish Valley, the last area in the Douglas fir zone to experience ideal habitat conditions, I counted more than 800 deer along a two-mile stretch of road. The year was 1972.

But the rapid progressive clear cutting that caused deer pop­ulations to climb is also the main reason for their fall. As the new forest returned, its canopy cut off sun­light and the deer food supply. Because logging was so rapid, large areas of relatively even-aged second growth now cover much of the east slope of Vancouver Island and deer are the worse for it. Deer were never abundant on the West Coast of the Island except in scattered pockets.

There are now more deer in old growth forests than in second growth. The stands are not as dense, there are more natural open­ings and the lichens that grow on old trees provide a good deal of food when branches are brought down by winds or decay. Tree lichens are the major food source of deer in winter.

Should a severe winter occur in the near future, there could be a catastrophic deer die-off because the winter habitat value of second growth is low. The last really hard winter on the South Coast was 1968-69. 20 years ago.

It’s not likely that there will ever be very large numbers of deer on Vancouver Island again in my life time. The old growth forests are still being opened on the West Slope but soil nutrients are low in cedar-hemlock forests and there are few deer even in ideal habitat. Deer will always be present however and there will be pockets of abundance as there are now, particularly in mountain herds and in the lowland resident deer around farm land.

There could be reasonable num­bers of deer again if the rate of future logging is not so rapid and it is spaced over larger areas; a more patchwork pattern instead of progressive clear cutting. And if selected stands of timber are left to reach old age and provide winter range, deer numbers could someday approach those of years ago. There may still be a few stands of what I call core habitat – scruffy old growth on rocky south and west facing slopes with lots of lichens. These places must be absolutely protected. I don’t think it will happen but the choice is there.

Update – July 20, 2020

It is now 2020 and deer have become urbanized. There are more than a few places in BC where deer are now almost pests. I moved to Port Alberni in 2018 and, on the first trip downtown, we saw a four point buck marching down Third Avenue which is the main street. It was a quiet Sunday morn and Port Alberni is by no means an expanding metropolis. It has lost population since the 1970’s. But I was still surprised. I shouldn’t have been. The lady we bought our house from kept a paint ball gun handy to protect her flowers. We took no action and now have several deer that are part of the family. We are kind of on the edge of town and deer love the place. Important stuff is fenced but the deer are constantly on the lookout for something that over tops or pokes thru the

fences,

Other island communities are similar. Even parts of Victoria have deer. Some of these places are quite urban – to developed for deer but they are there, Never mind Grand Forks or Cranbrook which have lots of deer.

As surprising at it may be to see a deer family in your yard, you still do not see many out in the bush. Some people think that deer have adapted to the urban life for protection from predators. I think they are simply taking advantage of the superior habitat conditions provide by the favorable mix of openings, forest patches at variable seral stages along with gardens and fruit trees.

I should say that overall logging practices have improved greatly since the early seventies. Smaller, openings, less roads and improved streamside and riparian treatment but the rush to replenish harvestable stands is not going to change and most of the working forest will be tree farms of questionable habitat value for deer.

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A nice buck feasting on plums near my Lake Cowichan driveway

THE LAKE NEWS, Lake Cowichan, B.C. Wednesday November 30, 1988

Deer on decline? Or Not?

By Ted Burns

I’ve forgotten the year but it wasn’t more than 10 or 12 years ago. I was searching for a waterfall on the east fork of the Robertson River when I came across a large rut in the ground, almost a trench. I scratched my head for a while before realizing what I’d found: an old deer runway (trail) from the days when the Cowichan Lake area had one of the largest deer populations on Vancouver Island. Those times are long gone. Deer have declined remarkably here and all over the island in the last few decades. The main reason …the tight canopy of second growth forests.

Early logging and accompanying fires created a bonanza for deer. Thousands of hectares of new slash and nutritious browse. And there was still lots of old growth to provide food and shelter in harsh winters. Deer became as numer­ous as grasshoppers in the dry fields of August. In the Nimpkish Valley, the last area in the Douglas fir zone to experience ideal habitat conditions, I counted more than 800 deer along a two-mile stretch of road. The year was 1972.

But the rapid progressive clear cutting that caused deer pop­ulations to climb is also the main reason for their fall. As the new forest returned, its canopy cut off sun­light and the deer food supply. Because logging was so rapid, large areas of relatively even-aged second growth now cover much of the east slope of Vancouver Island and deer are the worse for it. Deer were never abundant on the West Coast of the Island except in scattered pockets.

There are now more deer in old growth forests than in second growth. The stands are not as dense, there are more natural open­ings and the lichens that grow on old trees provide a good deal of food when branches are brought down by winds or decay. Tree lichens are the major food source of deer in winter.

Should a severe winter occur in the near future, there could be a catastrophic deer die-off because the winter habitat value of second growth is low. The last really hard winter on the South Coast was 1968-69. 20 years ago.

It’s not likely that there will ever be very large numbers of deer on Vancouver Island again in my life time. The old growth forests are still being opened on the West Slope but soil nutrients are low in cedar-hemlock forests and there are few deer even in ideal habitat. Deer will always be present however and there will be pockets of abundance as there are now, particularly in mountain herds and in the lowland resident deer around farm land.

There could be reasonable num­bers of deer again if the rate of future logging is not so rapid and it is spaced over larger areas; a more patchwork pattern instead of progressive clear cutting. And if selected stands of timber are left to reach old age and provide winter range, deer numbers could someday approach those of years ago. There may still be a few stands of what I call core habitat – scruffy old growth on rocky south and west facing slopes with lots of lichens. These places must be absolutely protected. I don’t think it will happen but the choice is there.

Update – July 20, 2020

It is now 2020 and deer have become urbanized. There are more than a few places in BC where deer are now almost pests. I moved to Port Alberni in 2018 and, on the first trip downtown, we saw a four point buck marching down Third Avenue which is the main street. It was a quiet Sunday morn and Port Alberni is by no means an expanding metropolis. It has lost population since the 1970’s. But I was still surprised. I shouldn’t have been. The lady we bought our house from kept a paint ball gun handy to protect her flowers. We took no action and now have several deer that are part of the family. We are kind of on the edge of town and deer love the place. Important stuff is fenced but the deer are constantly on the lookout for something that over tops or pokes thru the

fences,

Other island communities are similar. Even parts of Victoria have deer. Some of these places are quite urban – to developed for deer but they are there, Never mind Grand Forks or Cranbrook which have lots of deer.

As surprising at it may be to see a deer family in your yard, you still do not see many out in the bush. Some people think that deer have adapted to the urban life for protection from predators. I think they are simply taking advantage of the superior habitat conditions provide by the favorable mix of openings, forest patches at variable seral stages along with gardens and fruit trees.

I should say that overall logging practices have improved greatly since the early seventies. Smaller, openings, less roads and improved streamside and riparian treatment but the rush to replenish harvestable stands is not going to change and most of the working forest will be tree farms of questionable habitat value for deer.

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A nice buck feasting on plums near my Lake Cowichan driveway

 

DISTURBING TREND ALONG SHORES

Wednesday, December 20th, 2023

DISTURBING TREND ALONG LAKE SHORES

There is a disturbing trend underway along the shores of many BC lakes and its called urbanization. It wasn’t too long ago that people were content with low impact, small scale development: a small cottage and float with minimal clearing. If you had to access the property by boat, so much the better. Many people of today seem to require more. Much more. It seems that today’s shore dwellers have forgotten how to live in the country because they insist on dragging their city comforts along with them. Power, pavement and houses and lawns that would not look out of place in the Hollywood Hills.

The thought is, if the shore is swampy or brushy or if trees mar the view, bring in machines to create a beach and remove the offending vegetation so trucks can be driven to the water’s edge to haul away any driftwood that dares to land on the property.

If erosion occurs because the shore zones natural defenses have been stripped, bring back the machines to build retaining walls or line the shore with shot rock.

It’s a depressing scene that seems to occur almost everywhere people choose to live by lakes. The Cowichan Lake Salmonid Enhancement Society, a stewardship group in Lake Cowichan recently found that nearly 70% of lake shore properties on Cowichan Lake had moderate to high impacts on the shores. In travelling around the province, I would say as much or more degradation has happened on numerous lakes like Christina, Okanagan, Shuswap, Kootenay Lake’s West Arm – the list goes on.

Shore zones are the most productive parts of our lakes, especially the larger lakes like those I have cited here. The same things that help provide production on natural shores, also attract human activity. Things like protection from wave attack and gentle slopes. These are among the first areas to go.

Is it possible to live on a lake shore without degrading its natural values too much?

I think it is but it requires a dedicated commitment to living light. First off there are parts of lakes that should simply never be developed. They need to remain as nature reserves, parks or rec sites. The portions of lakes that can be in the real estate market place should be subject to constraints like a protected setback from the high water level. Natural vegetation would be retained and a small dock for swimming or sunning would take the place of a beach or lawn. Access would be in the form of narrow gravelled paths.

Perhaps the most attractive feature of BC is its number and variety of lakes. Because of our glacial history and ample water, we have an abundance of beautiful, clean lakes that support excellent fish populations. These lakes are the envy of the world and a priceless gift that must be carefully stewarded . Indeed.

 

A Brief History of Cathedral Grove

Wednesday, December 20th, 2023

A BRIEF HISTORY OF CATHEDRAL GROVE

By

TED BURNS

(adapted from a BC Forest History Newsletter article by Kerry Joy BC Parks Forester and former resident of Alberni Valley)

In 1886 a wagon road was punched from Nanaimo to Port Alberni. It was located on the north side of Cameron Lake. By 1911 the road was moved to the south shore and the railroad was located on the north side. These routes enabled the transfer of people and commerce and allowed people to experience the magnificence of a rich part of the Island Forest. At this time, commercial logging was just beginning to get underway on the coast.

HR MacMillan, BC’s first Chief Forester was highly aware of the value of old growth forest. As an entrapanuial opportunist, he staked claims on some of the best timber on the coast by obtaining rights to entire river valleys including the Cameron.

When the road improved, the forest industry in the Alberni Valley began to flourish and the population swelled with the increasing number of jobs in the woods and the mills. Travel over the Hump also picked up and it became traditional to stop at The Grove for a picnic or short stroll though the giants. It was said the Cathedral Grove was given its name by Governor General Viscount Willington during a 1928 visit.

For the next fifteen years, pressure was applied to HR MacMIllan by different groups including the Vancouver Island Tourist Association to donate Cathedral Grove as a park. HR stood fast citing the high timber value and its importance to his company’s growth.

Finally at a meeting with the Vancouver Island Tourist Association in 1944, HR relented and stormed out of the hall yelling “alright you can have the G.D. Grove”! The public victory resulted in park protection for 136 ha of old growth in the Lower Cameron Valley. Although The Grove trees are not the tallest or largest in the province there are heights over 50-69 m and girths up to 4.5 m. Most importantly over 300, 00 people visit each year and The Grove is the only highway accessible stand of old growth Douglas fir in BC.

Although H.R.(Harvey Reginald) gave up the grove to the delight of many, his company slammed his decision for many years after ranting that the decadent old trees were past their prime and would blow down. They should be logged before that happened they asserted. They did their best to hasten windfall by logging the rest of the upstream valley right up to The Grove. Sure enough, serious blow down has occurred and will likely continue as the forest thins out.

In 1990, a punchy pineapple express storm roared through The Grove blowing down 6 ha of forest and causing some major channel shifts and bank erosion on the Cameron River. Another 1996 storm slammed into the Grove with considerable damage.

Hopefully, The Grove will persist for much longer and people will continue to marvel. What I find ironic is that Cathedral Grove is by far the most outstanding legacy of HR MacMIllan and his company: MacMillan Bloedel.

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Clear cutting the Cameron Valley up to The Grove aided blow down.

 

Tom Burns One Tough Hombre

Thursday, November 30th, 2023

TOM BURNS – ONE TOUGH H0MBRE

Tom was born in the old Victorian hospital in Kaslo on December 27, 1949. The late 1940’s featured some very hard winters and 1949 was one. Rough enough to freeze both Okanagan and Kootenay Lakes. We no longer see such winters in BC .The last one was 53 years ago. We lived in Ainsworth the winter Tom was born. I think it was spring before he came home. Mom, Betty Olsen and I went to get him. He was very premature two pounds and change. The nuns kept him in a chick incubator until he was healthy enough to come home. I remember Mom and Betty laying him out on the dining room table and fawning over him. He was so small and we all realized it was a miracle he was here. His doctor told mother not to have high hopes for Tommy. Aside from surviving birth and early development he was born with cerebral palsy. CP is a group of disorders that affect movement muscle tone and balance. There is no cure victorian.jpg The old Victorian Hospital in Kaslo.

After Ainsworth, we moved to Hillsdale, California for awhile when Nid was still very young. I don’t remember much except that the apartments covered a huge area and that one of the first malls was built nearby

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Tom, Mom and Kath at Hilllsdale.

We went back to Nelson in the early 1950’s where Tom thrived. He, Kath and I went to St. Joseph’s school. Tom and I would sometimes cut class to go on walkabouts. A favourite target was Hood’s bakery near the bottom end of Stanley Street. We hiked down from Latimer by taking the trail from Cottonwood Canyon, past the Hatchery , then up to Kootenay Street where we carried on to Hoods. There were dozens of fresh loaves arranged on drying racks near the street. Tom and I would hollow out a couple of ends and fill them with peanut butter and strawberry jam. We then headed down to the hobo jungle at the mouth of Cottonwood Creek where we devoured the bounty with the help of the bums. The hobos told us wild tales of riding the rails all across North America where they were hard pressed to dodge the railroad cops. They said the bulls were quite dangerous and one guy relayed how he was dispatched one winter night on the frozen prairie where he was clubbed then tossed out to skid on his face until he skidded to a stop minus some skin.

After a great stint in Nelson, we moved to Hillsdale, CA. It was an ugly place and Tommy was very young. I doubt if h ever remembered very much.

California developers built a huge mall nearby that turned into a demolition derby. People were not used to parking in close quarters. They opened their car doors into the sides of adjacent vehicles until they got used to the new style of parking.

We were soon on the road again. This time it was the Nelson shuttle. We lived at 1002 Kootenay Street a small non-descript house that still stands. Dad and Grandpa added a bedroom for Nid (my nickname for Tom) and I. and the house survived the big highway upheaval of the 1970’s that took out some really fine places but our little hovel still sits there looking exactly like it did in the 1950’s

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Our travels were not over. The parents announced that we were headed to California again. Dad was starting a lighting company where the streets were paved with gold. I was disappointed to leave but Mom was ecstatic and started singing California Here I Come before we left Nelson. We got a motel in Spokane and mother got herself several quarts of Lucky Lager beer to celebrate. We settled in a San Diego suburb called Pacific Beach, which was a great spot. We lived in a small apartment above a lovely California beach that stretched for miles.

Tom, Kath, Sue and I went down to the beach at first light to watch old men with metal detectors search the beach for watches, rings and coins. They found a surprising amount. Sometimes we would go down to Belmont Park for the rides. Other times we would go out on the pier to hang out or fish. We caught small fish, croakers and shiner perch. Once I hooked a small halibut and another time we saw a large manta ray leap free and fall back into the gleaming sea. Pacific Beach was a great place.

Our stint in Paradise was soon over however. We trekked north to the Bay Area and Sunnyvale. It was then a small agricultural community but just edging into the high tech era which would increase the population from about 5000 to 150,000 in a few years. It went from fields and orchards to malls, subdivisions and car dealerships seemingly overnight. It shocked me to see such a productive valley just flushed away without protest. It was hard to believe. In those days, Californians thought land use planning was a communist conspiracy or worse so the demise of the Santa Clara Valley was not a surprise.

Tom hardly noticed. He was busy playing Little League baseball, Pop Warner football or whatever was going on the streets. He was just a happy go lucky boy, glad to be playing sports and laughing all the way.

After a couple of years, we moved a few miles west to Los Altos a beautiful town at the edge of the Santa Cruz Mountains. Tom and Sue went to Homestead Elementary School while Kath was at Fremont High and I was at Foothill College. We had a big house with oak trees and Stevens Creek in the backyard.

Dad had a swimming pool installed. Tom dove in right away and hardly left as long as the sun was shining. He became quite the physical specimen adding lots of muscle and co-ordination.

He continued his love of sport, Dad often took him up to The City to watch professional teams. Dad was a football fan so they saw the 49ers which featured Y A Tittle and fans that would rain down whiskey bottles if things were not going well. It was dangerous to sit in the Lower Rows at Kezar. The Giants had good teams in those days with the great sluggers Willie Mc Covey and Orlando Cepeda. We often went up to the Cow Place to watch the Seals of the old Western Hockey League play the Vancouver Canucks or Seattle Totems. There were some great Players in the old WHL. Which was very close to the NHL The great Guyle Fielder played for Seattle. Phil Maloney led the Canucks and the Seals had Orland Kurtenbach, Moe Mantha and Eddie Panagabco. Tom would go down to the players’ bench before the games to get autographs. He listened to all the games he didn’t get to on the radio including those of the San Francisco Warriors where Wilt Chamberlin played.

In Los Altos, we were introduced to pool parties where neighbourhood and church groups would have backyard gatherings with food and a keg of beer.

The parties would flame out in the early evening and the half full kegs would sit outside for awhile. Tom and his rascal friends would find out where the parties were and dispose of the contents of the keg in a secluded area. No one ever caught the boys so they went about their business. Aside from the pool, we often swam in Stevens Creek reservoir which had a spill way that would flow in the spring months when it picked up a coating of filamentous green algae which was very slippery so we slid down the spillway to land in a big pool at the bottom.

In about 1965, the California Dream was over and it was back to Nelson for Tom and Sue. Kath went on to Gonzaga in Spokane while I hustled up to Humboldt State University in the redwoods of Northern California. Tom readapted to life in Nelson and was glad to see his old friends like Ross and Roddy McKay, Dale Jefferies and Dick Murphy. They moved into the old house at Burns Point which was about 100 years old. It was a summer home and not insulated so it as hard to heat in winter. Dad built a new house in 1967. Sister Sue still lives in it. People were starting to live across the lake now that a bridge had replaced the Nelson Ferry and a road had come down almost to the house. The McKays built a house nearby and many street hockey games were played near the end of the road. The Clum boys usually joined in and some real lively games resulted. Summers were consumed by swimming and water skiing at the beach or up at Jorgie’s where there was a store and small marina. Such luminaries as Blake Allen and Steve Ward were also part of Jorgies gang. Tom and the boys also built small forts and cabins in the bush and stocked them with essentials like chips and comics. There were many hikes up to Pulpit Rock and down to Grohman Creek.

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Tom was now in high school and enjoyed playing on the` LV Rogers basketball team : The Bombers. He no longer had the option of watching big league sports like the Bay Area teams but we had some great hockey teams nearby in the Western International League. Tom and I watched countless games between the Trail Smoke Eaters, Kimberley Dynamiters and our Nelson Maple Leafs.

When Tom finished at LVR, he Ross and Rod McKay and Jack Carpenter worked for CPR in the East Kootenay. `Big time coal mining was starting up so the boys had lot of work and adventure.

After the CPR days, Tom went to Mt. Royal College in Calgary where he did remarkably well for a boy ‘not to have high hope for’. Then a rougher road came up. Tom transferred to UBC where they would not axcept many of his Mt. Royal courses and credits. Tom was completely unprepared for this and was devastated. He had some good friends in Vancouver so he partied for awhile then managed to graduate as a teacher.

He taught in Burns Lake, Fort St John, Bella Bella and in the Fraser Valley and Kootenays. He started teaching in Asia in the 90’s and had stints in China, Japan and Korea where he would travel when he did not teach. He was especially fond of Thailand and knew its beaches well. When he stayed with me in Lake Cowichan, he was known as Thailand Tom. In the early twenty thousands, Tom scaled back his travels and settled back in Nelson where his health issues began to slow him down big time. Eventually he booked into Mountain Lakes care home. He still got around a bit and enjoyed the friends he made there but his health was still sliding. Parkinson’s disease came into his life as did arthritis to the point where he needed a hip replacement. That was done in the spring of 2021. Tom never fully recovered from the operation and in mid June of 2021, he made his final trip.

Tom was loved in Nelson. Over 300 people posted their condolences on Facebook. Most of them spoke of Tom’s easy smile and how easy he was to talk to

 

 

The Little Stores of Nelson+

Thursday, November 30th, 2023

The little stores of Nelson

Updated: 6 days ago

A guest post from Ted Burns

When I think of the Nelson of the 1950s, one of the first things I think about are the neighbourhood stores. I also think about the early days of rock and roll — Bill Haley, Elvis, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly — the sock hops at L.V. Rogers where I was a first time student transferring over from St. Joseph’s when they closed the high school, the beginnings of skiing and how few people lived across the lake then before the bridge and Johnstone Road were built. Most people just lived there in the summer and went over to town by rowboat.

We lived at 1002 Kootenay Street then and my pals were Tom Ramsay, Gary Kilpatrick, the Goldsbury brothers, Dick Gelinas, Harry Cox, Muggsy Holmes and Clare Palmer. The neighbor hood was pretty well gutted by highway construction in the 1970s but our little house remains.

So does Tremain’s Store at Hall Mines and Kootenay (aka Cross Roads Store, 1103 Hall Mines, T. Davison, prop. in 1955 and later Andrew Tremain, prop.) where many of the kids went to stock up on Kik Cola and McIntosh Toffee.

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1103 Hall Mines Road was once the Cross Roads Store.

Another local store was Herron’s Grocery on Stanley between Latimer and Mill (aka the Maple Leaf Grocery, Joe Herron prop. until 1950, followed by Hugh Horswill – still standing). That was the best place for popsicles and was adjacent to both Central and St. Joseph’s schools.

Even more fortunately located for sugar hounds was the very popular Sugar Bowl which definitely had a large supply of candy — bins of jaw breakers and penny candy (902 Josephine, H.E. Mannings proprietor in 1955). Then there was the Uphill 0r Hilltop Store which was more of a legitimate grocery store in those days.  It later became Burrell’s

Some of the other stores had more basic supplies as well. Scott’s Grocery (823 Nelson Ave., George Scott, prop. in 1955 – demolished) was a more or less full service store and also featured a popular hamburger stand called the Totem Burger which was a very well attended hangout for teens with cars.

One of my favourite stores was the Green Door which was across from Queen Elizabeth Park which had just opened as had Little League baseball in Nelson. It was proximal to the high school and had a jukebox with tunes like, yes, the Green door.

Johnstone’s was another Fairview store popular with high school kids and there were often crowds of cola guzzlers on hand. It was also called Vi’s (921 Davies, prop. Mrs. V.E. Graves in 1955). Down in Lower Fairview was the Ringrose Store which I don’t believe I ever visited (Avenue Service Station, 802 Nelson Ave., James Ringrose, prop. – demolished 1957) Back along Front Street was Bennie’s Grocery, another store that I seldom visited but was popular (1117 Front, B.F. Schneider prop. in 1953 – still standing).

I also include Jorgenson’s as a neighborhood store for North Shore residents. It was a very good store and had a good selection of meat. When the meat cars came in from Calgary, Pop Jorgenson was right on the spot at the truck terminus to get his meat in the cooler before the day warmed up. He also

had a small marina near the store where Al Jorgenson sold Hewes Craft boats and the North Shore boys kept their beer in a boathouse well. Jorgy’s was at the ferry landing.

Further up the hill there was a store at Brad’s Motel and heading out the lake there was the Willow Point Store where Howie and Lowly Jefferies held sway and many people will fondly remember the Question Mark at Six Mile.

Now there are big warehouse stores and the mall but in those days, the little stores were where most people shopped. Safeway and the Overwaitea were on Baker Street but even they were relatively small stores in those times and it was easier to just walk a few blocks to your friendly Mom and Pop store than to hike down to Baker Street.

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Nelson Daily News clipping about Avenue Service Station, date unknown, but ca. 1930s. Courtesy Joe Ringrose

Further up the hill there was a store at Brad’s Motel and heading out the lake there was the Willow Point Store where Howie and Lowly Jefferies held sway and many people will fondly remember the Question Mark at Six Mile.

Now there are big warehouse stores and the mall but in those days, the little stores were where most people shopped. Safeway and the Overwaitea were on Baker Street but even they were relatively small stores in those times and it was easier to just walk a few blocks to your friendly Mom and Pop store than to hike down to Baker Street.

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The 500 block of Baker Street in Nelson, 1950s, showing Safeway on the left before it moved to a new standalone store in Fairview. (Greg Nesteroff collection)

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Gringo Trail

Tuesday, November 28th, 2023

TOM BURNS – ONE TOUGH H0MBRE

Tom was born in the old Victorian hospital in Kaslo on December 27, 1949. The late 1940’s featured some very hard winters and 1949 was one. Rough enough to freeze both Okanagan and Kootenay Lakes. We no longer see such winters in BC .The last one was 53 years ago. We lived in Ainsworth the winter Tom was born. I think it was spring before he came home. Mom, Betty Olsen and I went to get him. He was very premature two pounds and change. The nuns kept him in a chick incubator until he was healthy enough to come home. I remember Mom and Betty laying him out on the dining room table and fawning over him. He was so small and we all realized it was a miracle he was here. His doctor told mother not to have high hopes for Tommy. Aside from surviving birth and early development he was born with cerebral palsy. CP is a group of disorders that affect movement muscle tone and balance. There is no cure victorian.jpg The old Victorian Hospital in Kaslo.

After Ainsworth, we moved to Hillsdale, California for awhile when Nid was still very young. I don’t remember much except that the apartments covered a huge area and that one of the first malls was built. nearby

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Tom, Mom and Kath at Hilllsdale.

We went back to Nelson in the early 1950’s where Tom thrived. He, Kath and I went to St. Joseph’s school. Tom and I would sometimes cut class to go on walkabouts. A favourite target was Hood’s bakery near the bottom end of Kootenay Street. We hiked down from Latimer by taking the trail from Cottonwood Canyon, past the Hatchery , then up to Kootenay Street where we carried on to Hoods. There were dozens of fresh loaves arranged on drying racks near the street. Tom and I would hollow out a couple of ends and fill them with peanut butter and strawberry jam. We then headed down to the hobo jungle at the mouth of Cottonwood Creek where we devoured the bounty with the help of the bums. The hobos told us wild tales of riding the rails all across North America where they were hard pressed to dodge the railroad cops. They said the bulls were quite dangerous and one guy relayed how he was dispatched one winter night on the frozen prairie where he was clubbed then tossed out to skid on his face until he skidded to a stop minus some skin.

After a great stint in Ainsworth, we moved to Hillsdale, CA. It was an ugly place and Tommy was very young. I doubt if h ever remembered very much.

California developers built a huge mall nearby that turned into a demolition derby. People were not used to parking in close quarters. They opened their car doors into the sides of adjacent vehicles until they got used to the new style of parking.

We were soon on the road again. This time it was the Nelson shuttle. We lived at 1002 Kootenay Street a small non-descript house that still stands. Dad and Grandpa added a bedroom for Nid (my nickname for Tom) and I. and the house survived the big highway upheaval of the 1970’s that took out some really fine places but our little hovel still sits there looking exactly like it did in the 1950’s

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Our travels were not over. The parents announced that we were headed to California again. Dad was starting a lighting company where the streets were paved with gold. I was disappointed to leave but Mom was ecstatic and started singing California Here I Come before we left Nelson. We got a motel in Spokane and mother got herself several quarts of Lucky Lager beer to celebrate. We settled in a San Diego suburb called Pacific Beach, which was a great spot. We lived in a small apartment above a lovely California beach that stretched for miles.

Tom, Kath, Sue and I went down to the beach at first light to watch old men with metal detectors search the beach for watches, rings and coins. They found a surprising amount. Sometimes we would go down to Belmont Park for the rides. Other times we would go out on the pier to hang out or fish. We caught small fish, croakers and shiner perch. Once I hooked a small halibut and another time we saw a large manta ray leap free and fall back into the gleaming sea. Pacific Beach was a great place.

Our stint in Paradise was soon over however. We trekked north to the Bay Area and Sunnyvale. It was then a small agricultural community but just edging into the high tech era which would increase the population from about 5000 to 150,000 in a few years. It went from fields and orchards to malls, subdivisions and car dealerships seemingly overnight. It shocked me to see such a productive valley just flushed away without protest. It was hard to believe. In those days, Californians thought land use planning was a communist conspiracy or worse so the demise of the Santa Clara Valley was not a surprise.

Tom hardly noticed. He was busy playing Little League baseball, Pop Warner football or whatever was going on the streets. He was just a happy go lucky boy, glad to be playing sports and laughing all the way.

After a couple of years, we moved a few miles west to Los Altos a beautiful town at the edge of the Santa Cruz Mountains. Tom and Sue went to Homestead Elementary School while Kath was at Fremont High and I was at Foothill College. We had a big house with oak trees and Stevens Creek in the backyard.

Dad had a swimming pool installed. Tom dove in right away and hardly left as long as the sun was shining. He became quite the physical specimen adding lots of muscle and co-ordination.

He continued his love of sport, Dad often took him up to The City to watch professional teams. Dad was a football fan so they saw the 49ers which featured Y A Tittle and fans that would rain down whiskey bottles if things were not going well. It was dangerous to sit in the Lower Rows at Kezar. The Giants had good teams in those days with the great sluggers Willie Mc Covey and Orlando Cepeda. We often went up to the Cow Place to watch the Seals of the old Western Hockey League play the Vancouver Canucks or Seattle Totems. There were some great Players in the old WHL. Which was very close to the NHL The great Guyle Fielder played for Seattle. Phil Maloney led the Canucks and the Seals had Orland Kurtenbach, Moe Mantha and Eddie Panagabco. Tom would go down to the players’ bench before the games to get autographs. He listened to all the games he didn’t get to on the radio including those of the San Francisco Warriors where Wilt Chamberlin played.

In Los Altos, we were introduced to pool parties where neighbourhood and church groups would have backyard gatherings with food and a keg of beer.

The parties would flame out in the early evening and the half full kegs would sit outside for awhile. Tom and his rascal friends would find out where the parties were and dispose of the contents of the keg in a secluded area. No one ever caught the boys so they went about their business. Aside from the pool, we often swam in Stevens Creek reservoir which had a spill way that would flow in the spring months when it picked up a coating of filamentous green algae which was very slippery so we slid down the spillway to land in a big pool at the bottom.

In about 1965, the California Dream was over and it was back to Nelson for Tom and Sue. Kath went on to Gonzaga in Spokane while I hustled up to Humboldt State University in the redwoods of Northern California. Tom readapted to life in Nelson and was glad to see his old friends like Ross and Roddy McKay, Dale Jefferies and Dick Murphy. They moved into the old house at Burns Point which was about 100 years old. It was a summer home and not insulated so it as hard to heat in winter. Dad built a new house in 1967. Sister Sue still lives in it. People were starting to live across the lake now that a bridge had replaced the Nelson Ferry and a road had come down almost to the house. The McKays built a house nearby and many street hockey games were played near the end of the road. The Clum boys usually joined in and some real lively games resulted. Summers were consumed by swimming and water skiing at the beach or up at Jorgie’s where there was a store and small marina. Such luminaries as Blake Allen and Steve Ward were also part of Jorgies gang. Tom and the boys also built small forts and cabins in the bush and stocked them with essentials like chips and comics. There were many hikes up to Pulpit Rock and down to Grohman Creek.

pondhockey.jpg

Tom was now in high school and enjoyed playing on the` LV Rogers basketball team : The Bombers. He no longer had the option of watching big league sports like the Bay Area teams but we had some great hockey teams nearby in the Western International League. Tom and I watched countless games between the Trail Smoke Eaters, Kimberley Dynamiters and our Nelson Maple Leafs.

When Tom finished at LVR, he Ross and Rod McKay and Jack Carpenter worked for CPR in the East Kootenay. `Big time coal mining was starting up so the boys had lot of work and adventure.

After the CPR days, Tom went to Mt. Royal College in Calgary where he did remarkably well for a boy ‘not to have high hope for’. Then a rougher road came up. Tom transferred to UBC where they would not accept many of his Mt. Royal courses and credits. Tom was completely unprepared for this and was devastated. He had some good friends in Vancouver so he partied for awhile then managed to graduate as a teacher.

He taught in Burns Lake, Fort St John, Bella Bella and in the Fraser Valley and Kootenays. He started teaching in Asia in the 90’s and had stints in China, Japan and Korea where he would travel when he did not teach. He was especially fond of Thailand and knew its beaches well. When he stayed with me in Lake Cowichan, he was known as Thailand Tom. He returned to Nelson n the early  2000’s and eventually booked into mountain lakes care home. His CP was now complicated by Parkinson’s and the after effects of a hip replacement. He tried his best to cope but his body was not up to it. In June of 2021 he made his final trip.

 

 

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Paradise Lost

Sunday, January 31st, 2021

PARADISE LOST?

The lack of concern over the present highly reduced access into the woods in the Cowichan Lake area puzzles me greatly. Island outdoorsmen fought long and hard for public access to forest lands and now that it’s slipped away, there seems to be hardly a whimper of protest. The present situation reminds me of how things were in the 1960’s when gates were everywhere and access was only available to fish and game club members on a limited basis. Even though that arrangement amounted to some fine hunting and fishing preserves for club members, the clubs battled for full public access.

It was a tough go. The clubs pressured the government and the forest companies for a number of years before the door opened a crack. In 1962 public access hearings were held during the legislative session. Forest company executives attended and argued against full access while the Island fish and wildlife clubs – especially Nanaimo and Victoria – carried the ball for recreationists. Company opposition was very stiff until a letter from a company official broke the hearings wide open. Challenged by the Forest Minister, Ray Williston, to show where they were being kept from forest land, the Victoria Club produced the letter. It explained that the company could not provide access because there were just enough fish, deer and grouse in the area to satisfy company employees.

That was enough for Williston, who, in the main was a friend to the forest industry and had little sympathy for the environment and outdoor recreation. The minister said he would introduce a Public Access Act unless the companies and the outdoor recreation community worked out an access agreement. The companies were quick to agree and the clubs came aboard because they were worried that public access legislation could probably not fully apply to the private lands of the E&N Land grant area which covers about a third of the Island and most of our area. To their credit, the companies worked out a very reasonable access policy whereby there was full access unless crews and equipment were working or there was an element of danger. This condition lasted about twenty years and things were good. The companies produced recreation maps and many of them established fine campsites. Companies like BCFP and Canfor were especially proactive.

Sometime in the early 1980’s, a subtle change began. In this area, lesser roads to rough campsites and other recreation spots not widely known began to be dug out and barrier berms were humped up. Then gates started to appear where none had been present for years. This went on without significant protest and now public access is now very highly curtailed in the E&N Land Grant area. It’s at least as bad as it was in the 1960’s.

What happened? Why have we let it slip away? The most common answer I get is that there is simply no appetite for another fight with the companies particularly at a time when they themselves seem to be on the ropes. It also appears that this is not a government that would provide much help. They have dumped the Forest Land Reserve and allowed a TFL to convert resource land to real estate. This is a government (BC Liberals) that was even prepared to dump the BC Forest Service recreational site program. Imagine where Cowichan Lake access would be without Pine Point, Maple Grove, Nixon Creek, Springs Beach and Pineapple Bay! In addition, traditional outdoor pursuits on forest land seem to be fading as more people are urban oriented and would seemingly rather shop and jog rather than hunt and fish. And there is a good deal of sympathy for the companies in this era where horrible garbage dumping, bush parties, human caused fires and general vandalism are a plague upon the land. In addition, theft is quite common. Companies report lots of stolen saws, shake blocks and good timber. Gates are either ripped out and destroyed or quads and motor bikes go around the gates and pose a risk. Edna Slater wrote an article in Lake News in 1987 that provided a good summary of the issues and some possible solutions. There must be away to resolve this if someone is willing to work at it. After all, some of the finest recreational lands on earth are right here in our backyards just beyond the gates. There is a considerable history of multiple use where problems were few. Surely it’s worth an attempt to re-establish a reasonable degree of public access. Indeed. Perhaps groups like Wilderness Watch could be beefed up to a greater degree. Company security personnel could make more patrols. And maybe more locations could be designated as recreational sites with small fees to cover costs for maintenance and security as is the present case for places like Heather, Kissinger and Caycuse Campsites. Now is the time to get something going because the E&N land area forest companies could be selling off many of their prime recreational lands to real estate developers. If that happens, there isn’t much chance of the average person setting foot on them again.

Ted Burns

July 29, 2009

Lake Cowichan Gazette

July 30 003

Company gate on Beech and Trace Road – TimberWest.

accessFC

Old (1980’s) Fletcher Challenge road sign near Misery Creek. Color coded signs indicated whether roads were open or closed.

Gordon River Falls Blasted

Sunday, January 31st, 2021

Gordon River Falls Blasted

Lake News, January 27, 1988.

A significant barrier to summer steelhead on the Gordon River has been improved to a point where the fish should be able to pass it with little difficulty.

325 kilograms of explosives were required to lower the western falls channel by 1.2 metres. This will provide more summer flow to ease steelhead passage over the long time barrier. Prior to improvement, summer steelhead were often backed up below the obstruction waiting for favorable flow conditions. They were susceptible to snaggers and suffered periodic mortality when they became trapped in a pool beneath the falls that sometimes dried. In some years, few were able to navigate the barrier.

The work guarantees access to approximately 370,000 square metres of spawning and rearing habitat in Loup Creek and the Upper Gordon for 200 – 400 steelhead according to Lake Cowichan biologist Ted Burns. The project was initiated by Ted Harding, a Victoria biologist who accomplished the work with Burns and Don Hjorth, a Kamloops engineer with specialized blasting skills. The project was funded by a Habitat Conservation Fund grant and aided by B.C. Forest Products.

“Don Hjorth has developed some very creative techniques for down cutting rock with explosives and employed them with excellent results on the project” said Harding.

BC Forest Products with advice from company biologist Dave Lindsay, provided access and some equipment. “ This is a good example of what can be accomplished when government and the private sector work together for the common good” said Lindsay.

The project may not be completely finished however. “It looks good but we can’t be totally satisfied until we see how the fish use it” said Burns. “There may be some fine tuning required. I sure hope not because just getting down and back from the canyon is a tough scramble. I hate to think about doing it again because I’m still feeling the effects of the last time”.

 

Thaws Can Be Dangerous to Fish

Saturday, January 30th, 2021

THE LAKE NEWS Lake Cowichan, BC Wednesday February 22, 1989

Thaws can be dangerous

This article was written in 1989 and we seldom get serious spells of Arctic air on the coast in these days of California Winters but this article is worthy of re- posting because we tend to forget that was still live in Canada and winter can return with a vengeance without much warning and cause serious problems when it leaves.

By Ted Burns

The current spell of cold wea­ther(1989) has ceased at last and the way it ends is very important to the billions of trout and salmon eggs incubating in the gravel of Cowichan watershed streams.

A quick thaw with very mild air and heavy rain could bring disas­ter. Such an event occurred in

January, 1986, with horrendous results. When spring breakup approa­ches in the interior, forest com­panies usually suspend hauling until the roads dry out somewhat. Of course, conditions are gen­erally much worse there because the frost gets deeper into the soil. But in years like this one and that fateful year of 1986, it can be almost as bad on the coast; even worse when the thaw is rapid and heavy rain is involved. Local companies should shut down haul­ing when this occurs because it may make a large difference in the survival of trout and salmon eggs.

It began in November, 1985, when Arctic air spilled out of the interior, quickly freezing wet ground. About that time it be­came evident that the coho run was going to be large. The cold weather persisted throughout the early run and, just as most of the late run was spawning, the weather changed.

A series of mild storms from the southwest arrived, quickly melt­ing snow right to the mountain

tops and thawing ground that had been frozen for more than a month.­

On January 18, almost no snow was left in the mountains and all local streams were in flood and carrying heavy sediment loads as rapidly thawing soil washed into the creeks.

Robertson River suffered the most. The main line logging road (termed Hillcrest Main by some) contains a good deal of fine sand, silt and clay, which had been wet prior to the cold spell and froze solid. When this material thawed, it lost its consistency and the road turned to mush. Trucks continued hauling right through the mess and this didn’t help. Indeed, it made things much worse.

The extent of the damage wasn’t readily apparent although it was obvious that conditions had been severe. When Cowichan Lake Salmonid Enhancement Society volunteers began assessing fry salvage needs on the lower Rob­ertson a few months later, the extreme impact of the thaw was clear. Where there were normally upward of 100,000 fry, there were almost none.

It was possible to walk and wade hundreds of metres and not see a single fry. The losses were stag­gering. Conditions weren’t much better in other tributaries of Cow­ichan Lake like Meade and Sut­ton creeks. Sediment, a high pro­portion from logging roads, had smothered nearly all the eggs of a very good Coho return which was possibly the best since the 1970’s.

Lake News Column

February 22, 1989

Ted Burns

Big Deal at a Small Creek

Tuesday, January 26th, 2021

Lake News, January 11, 1989

Triumph at Beaver CreeK

By Ted Burns

Leo Nelson and fellow mem­bers of the Cowichan Lake Sal­monid Enhancement Society, have done much to further the cause of natural stream enhancement in Western North America. I am not aware of any other group that has suc­ceeded in revitalizing an entire stream. The concept has received a lot of lip service but results have been spotty at best.

Prior to 1983, Beaver Creek was almost a lost cause in terms of trout and salmon habitat. Because of its small drainage area and low flushing capacity, it had matured to a condition where most of its channel was little more than mud, skunk cabbage and hardhack. It dried by May in most years and its coho run was just hanging on.

Leo Nelson lives on the edge of Beaver Creek’s little valley and is a fisherman. He saw the con­dition of the creek and decided to do something about it. He con­tacted government fisheries agen­cies and, after a long period of wrangling and with much support from Trevor Morris, DFO’s community advisor (an advocate for community participation in fish habitat improvement) received approval to rehabilitate the channel. The atti­tude of fisheries bureaucrats was “the creek’s a write-off; he can’t do any harm, so why not?” They really didn’t expect any positive results. But they didn’t know Leo.

He took a backhoe to the creek in the late summer of 1983 and cleaned out most of its channel. Tons of mud and waterlogged debris were cast aside. But that was only step one. The creek still needed summer flow. He hand built a small berm near the outlet of Beaver Lake later that year reali­zing that it probably wouldn’t be enough to provide summer long flow.

Returning next spring to see if any fry had resulted from his digging efforts, he found that a family of beavers had taken the opportunity to build on his work and raised the lake level over one metre. He also discovered that coho had spawned in the new channel and produced about 10,000 fry.

The basic ingredients were now in place—spawning habitat and permanent flow.

Lifted by the early results of Leo’s efforts, public and govern­ment enthusiasm has grown to the point where Beaver Creek is now the central link in a much broader effort under the umbrella of the Cowichan Lake Salmonid Enhance­ment Society. A small hatchery, fry salvage and colonization and continued upgrading of Beaver Creek have resulted. The Society salvages up to 300,000 trout and salmon fry from drying reaches of streams each summer and transfers thorn to suitable up­stream habitat and rears 50,000 to 100,000 fry in its mini-hatchery for similar outplanting.

But Beaver Creek is still the heartbeat of their effort. Leo counted 30 spawners in 1983. 250 returned last year. Almost 600 have come back this year and Leo is still counting. His smile is ten miles wide.

The present coho commercial harvest rate is 75 per cent means about 1,800 of Leo’s were caught at sea and downstream The creek’s total production was 2400 coho. That’s amazing and certainly merits at giant smile.

Our Lovely Lakes – Priceless Gifts

Monday, October 26th, 2020

DISTURBING TREND ALONG LAKE SHORES

There is a disturbing trend underway along the shores of many BC lakes and its called urbanization. It wasn’t too long ago that people were content with low impact, small scale development: a small cottage and float with minimal clearing. If you had to access the property by boat, so much the better. Many people of today seem to require more. Much more. It seems that today’s shore dwellers have forgotten how to live in the country because they insist on dragging their city comforts along with them. Power, pavement and houses and lawns that would not look out of place in the Hollywood Hills.

The thought is, if the shore is swampy or brushy or if trees mar the view, bring in machines to create a beach and remove the offending vegetation so trucks can be driven to the water’s edge to haul away any driftwood that dares to land on the property.

If erosion occurs because the shore zones natural defenses have been stripped, bring back the machines to build retaining walls or line the shore with shot rock.

It’s a depressing scene that seems to occur almost everywhere people choose to live by lakes. The Cowichan Lake Salmonid Enhancement Society, a stewardship group in Lake Cowichan recently found that nearly 70% of lake shore properties on Cowichan Lake had moderate to high impacts on the shores. In travelling around the province, I would say as much or more degradation has happened on numerous lakes like Christina, Okanagan, Shuswap, Kootenay Lake’s West Arm – the list goes on.

Shore zones are the most productive parts of our lakes, especially the larger lakes like those I have cited here. The same things that help provide production on natural shores, also attract human activity. Things like protection from wave attack and gentle slopes. These are among the first areas to go.

Is it possible to live on a lake shore without degrading its natural values too much?

I think it is but it requires a dedicated commitment to living light. First off there are parts of lakes that should simply never be developed. They need to remain as nature reserves, parks or rec sites. The portions of lakes that can be in the real estate market place should be subject to constraints like a protected setback from the high water level. Natural vegetation would be retained and a small dock for swimming or sunning would take the place of a beach or lawn. Access would be in the form of narrow gravelled paths.

Perhaps the most attractive feature of BC is its number and variety of lakes. Because of our glacial history and ample water, we have an abundance of beautiful, clean lakes that support excellent fish populations. These lakes are the envy of the world and a priceless gift that must be carefully stewarded . Indeed. The Riparian Areas Regulation was brought in in 2006 to provide a process to determine the protection needs of water bodies. A property owner that wants to build or otherwise develop an area closer than 30 metres to the high water mark of a lake, stream or wetland must have the area assessed by a qualified environmental professional to produce a kind of management report for the parts of the land near water. Keep in mind that following the assessment, it is unlikely that the SPEA or setback from high water will be as large as 30 m. RAR only applies to Regional Districts  and Municipalities where development is thought to be imminent: South Coast and Island , Fraser Valley, Okanagan -Thompson – Shuswap and Gulf Islands, somehow the Kootenays got off the hook but that won’t last long.

Can Nanaimo River Survive Nanaimo?

Sunday, October 25th, 2020

NANAIMO RIVER – CAN IT SURVIVE NANAIMO?

by

Ted Burns

I’m standing at the tip of Jack Point. It’s a cool August night and the lights of Nanaimo are a lovely kaleidoscope to the west. To the east, a full moon is rising over Gabriola Island and the lights of houses are blinking above the bluffs that drop sharply into Northumberland Channel. The only sounds are waves, lapping on the rocks and muffled machinery at Doman’s Mill to the southeast at Duke Point.

Its a calm, peaceful scene but one that belies the reality of Nanaimo; the town with the beautiful name and lovely setting that has turned ugly with its cascading sprawl of suburbia as it rushes hard into the next century.

Nanaimo has long been known as a city without an environmental conscience. Nanaimo River estuary lies just south of Duke Point. In 1971, Nanaimo Harbour Commission wanted to turn it into an industrial port by dredging and paving it. Every biologist in Nanaimo, and there is an impressive number due to the presence of the Pacific Biological Station at Departure Bay, signed a petition that was published in the Nanaimo Free Press. This and public pressure thwarted the Commission and the facility was located at Duke Point. It was the first and last time that many of the scientists at the station came out of their closets.

For many years, Nanaimo was run by a mayor and council that favoured unfettered development. Their vision of prosperity consisted of a series of malls, gas stations and fast food outlets strung along the Island Highway and an endless parade of housing tracts rolling into the hinterlands. Some of them reached as far as the Nanaimo River which is well south of the city. Frank Ney was the Mayor and president of Nanaimo Realty. He was a loveable, good hearted man (Frank died in 1992) but his vision of Nanaimo was strongly coloured by his developer instincts. It wasn’t difficult to get the feeling that town planning was being done by Nanaimo Realty. The Nanaimo Regional District seemed to mirror Nanaimo City Council in terms of their vision of the future.

But Nanaimo is shedding its image as a developers paradise. Recent city councils have been far more sensitive to environmental concerns. They recently passed a stream protection bylaw an environmental protection officer is on staff . Plan Nanaimo, a comprehensive framework for a new community plan, is in the mid-stages of public input. The plan presents a number of scenarios for the future structure of the city. Most of these include an urban containment boundary which roughly coincides with the present limits of Nanaimo. That is superb news for Nanaimo River.

Nanaimo River is perhaps the most beautiful stream on the East Slope of Vancouver Island. It begins in high sub-alpine country near the centre of the Island just east of the Upper Nitinat River and heads west for some seventy kilometres to its estuary dropping some twelve hundred metres along the way. It gathers flow from a number of major tributaries such as Sadie Creek, Green River, Deadwood Creek, its South Fork and Haslam Creek as it tumbles east. Several good sized lakes buffer winter discharge and help warm its summer flow.

Nanaimo River supports chinook, coho and chum salmon in substantial numbers and a few pink salmon and an occasional sockeye. Prior to the mid-fifties, pinks were rather abundant, particularly in Lower Haslam Creek. Runoff from coal mining waste is said to have doomed the pink run. Steelhead are also abundant and sea-run and resident cutthroat trout are also present, particularly in small tributaries of the Lower River and estuary like Thatcher, Beck and Holden Creeks. Resident rainbow trout are present throughout the river and in the lakes and Dolly Varden are resident in headwater portions of the system.

The river is most noted for its chinook and steelhead runs. There is a rather unique spring run of chinooks that begins entering the river as early as March and a sometimes strong fall run that contains some very large fish. Steelhead are represented by a winter and spring run.

Steelhead are the main target of anglers. The river is one of the best steelhead streams on Vancouver Island, usually ranking in or near the top five in terms of catch and effort. Although steelhead can penetrate well into the upper river (some 55 km on the mainstem), most angling occurs in the lower 12.5 km between the Bore Hole and the estuary. In that area, the majority of angling takes place in a 5 km section between the Bore Hole and the Haslam Run near the mouth of Haslam Creek.

Fishing is not the only Nanaimo River recreational attraction; far from it. On warm summer weekend days, as many as five thousand people may be swimming and sunbathing along the river all the way from Cedar Bridge up to the Glade Pool not far below First Lake. Because of the lakes and perhaps because of the large amount of heat absorbing bedrock canyon between First Lake and the highway bridge, Nanaimo River is Vancouver Islands’ warmest. Summer temperatures sometimes reach 25 degrees much to the delight of its’ legion of swimmers.

Although a large percentage of swimmers frequent the Highway Bridge Pool, Pumphouse Pool and Cedar Bridge Pool, many others seek more secluded upstream havens in the rivers’ lovely canyon section. River Terrace, the Old Comox Logging Railroad Trestle area, White Rapids, the Gunbarrel and Staircase, Top Shelf and Bottom Shelf near the old White Rapids mine, Kinnikinnick Canyon, the Goat Trail Pool, Boulder Garden, Golden Fields and White Rocks, Long Rope Pool, South Fork Pool, Quarry Pool, Ocean Spray Pools, Big Bend, Ninebark Pool and the Glade Pool attract an earthy clientele along with a strong showing of the muscle, beer and bikini crowd.

This section of Nanaimo River is its finest and the one that sets it somewhat apart from many other Island streams in terms of beauty. Most of it is reached via Nanaimo River Road and numerous side roads and trails. Some side roads lead to traditional camping areas as well as swimming and fishing spots. All these roads are on private property owned by TimberWest or Island Timberlands. Vehicle access has been cut off due to vandalism and garbage dumping. This is no great loss to swimmers and anglers because the walks are not far but RV campers bemoan the loss of some world class riverside camping spots.

There is a need for much closer management of the Nanaimo River Corridor which extends from the estuary to First Lake. In all that distance (33 kms) through all that beauty and areas of intense use, there is not a single park or recreation area (the closest thing is the Cassidy Rest Stop at the highway bridge). Not a single square millimetre of ground protected from development and managed for outdoor recreation; this seems inconceivable. The corridor cries out for attention and management.

A number of old right of ways parallel the River Corridor. Of particular importance is the Comox Logging and Railroad Grade which is owned by Timberwest. It runs along the north side of the river from the trestle 1.4 km above the Bore Hole to First Lake and, for much of its length, it forms the north boundary of Nanaimo River Corridor. Park dedication of the right of way and the corridor lands south of it including lands on the south side of the river, would be a major step toward giving the river the attention it deserves. A number of smaller parks or recreation sites could be established downstream at places like the Bore Hole, Forestry Run, Haslam Run and Thatcher Creek – Morden Park Area and a special zoning status should be applied to the corridor outside the parklands to insure that no more development invades land that rightly belongs to the river not the real estate market place

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Coastal Cutts

Friday, October 9th, 2020

Coastal Cutthroat Trout in BC

The coastal cutthroat trout is often termed the “native “trout of the northwest coast because it is so well adapted to the wide range of aquatic environments in this region. Cutthroats occur in nearly all coastal streams from Southeast Alaska to Northern California, from tiny pastoral creeks to large, turbulent rivers. They also occur in the big lakes and most of the little lakes and ponds and they are no strangers to estuaries, beaches and bays along the coast. Wherever they are found, coastal cutthroats are among our most interesting and popular sport fish.

They are handsome fish and are usually not difficult to find or catch in lakes, streams or the sea provided anglers know something about their habits in the area they are fishing, Complex tackle and large boats are seldom required. Just a light rod, some waders and a handful of flies or small spoons and perhaps a small boat.

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A Big Qualicum sea – run.

GENERAL DESCRIPTION

Size and coloration depend largely on the home environment. Sea run cutthroat may attain weights of 2 – 2.5 kilograms with the average being closer to .5. Larger sea runs occur but I have never seen one and they are said to be rather rare. Immature fish are green to metallic blue on the dorsal surface and upper flanks. In one area I fish a lot which is well inside a large estuary protected by a barrier beach, fish that stay mostly in the estuary and lower river, are highly colored while outside fish that patrol the beach are silver bright.

As spawning season approaches, they start to take on a lemon yellow to brownish tinge and the characteristic paired slash marks on their lower jaw become a vivid orange or red. Maturing sea runs are often called yellow bellies. Coastal cutthroats are usually more heavily spotted than steelhead, resident rainbows or the Westslope Cutthroat of the Kootenays.

Lake residents vary considerably in size. In large lakes which contain other fish like rainbows, kokanee or sockeye and forage fishes like sticklebacks and sculpins, they grow quite large. Lakes like Cowichan, Sproat, Buttle, Powell and Owikeno can produce some giants. A seventeen pounder was caught in Sproat in 1957. But the cutthroats in the many smaller lakes and ponds seldom attain much size and often over populate the lakes. Like sea runs. Cutthroats in coastal lakes are usually silvery as immature fish but coloration increases with maturity. They often have a pink rainbow like tinge on their flanks. The two species sometimes interbreed in lake tributaries and it is often difficult to tell their offspring apart.

Many coastal streams have cutthroat populations that live out their lives in a few pools in headwater reaches. Conditions are often harsh there and the little trout are hard pressed to attain sizes of 15 – 20 cm. However, the little stream dwellers are among the most beautiful and interesting members of the trout and salmon family.

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LIFE HISTORY

Sea run cutthroat are found in nearly all BC coastal rivers but they do best in the small streams. Young cutthroats are shy and non aggressive. When they compete with young steelhead and coho, they avoid conflict by living in less favorable living spaces. Fortunately, there are substantial coastal lowlands laced with small streams ideally suited for cutthroat. These little brooks are often more diverse in habitat and richer in food organisms than the lager creeks frequented by the more territorial salmonids.

A few sea runs begin entering some of the larger rivers with the early pink and sockeye which can start in July. These are not true spawning fish, they are just tagging along to feed on loose eggs or insects stirred up by salmon spawners. A few weeks later, some cutthroats begin to head upstream for their spawning. In many of the smaller creeks, the cuts will not enter until the persistent fall-winter rain fires up which can be as late as December. The spawning period therefore usually last from December to March. These fish are notorious for their lack of attention to calendars. I have seen them in spawning behaviour from November to May.

Most sea run cutthroat spawn after one or two summers in salt water and one to three years in freshwater as juveniles, as spawners they range from two to five years in total age. Smaller streams are usually preferred and the fish seek out a gravel riffle near cover where the female excavates a red with strong tail flexes and males settle in and deposit sperm. Spawning rigours are less than those of steelhead so some cutts survive to spawn again. The fish drift back to the estuary later in the spring to regain their strength.

For the product of their effort, life begins as a pocket of eggs buried in the gravel. Only a small portion survives the perils of winter. Sometime between April and July, the fry begin wiggling up to begin stream life as 25mm fish. They seek out gentle current by the stream margins. Quiet vulnerable now, they have to dodge a host of predators like birds, snakes and larger fish that eagerly wait to dine on small trout. AS the water warms and the food supply increases the little fish gain growth and move into mid stream and try to defend a territory. They prefer to live in pools but if the larger and more aggressive steelhead and coho are present in sufficiently large numbers, they are pushed into less favourable riffle habitat to live, If there is no riffle habitat because of poor stream structure or extremely low summer flows, most young cutthroat are fated to die. In the fall of their first year of stream life, the remaining young cutthroats are from 5-8 cm long.

As fall advances, streams cool and flows begin to rise, the young fish move back to quiet water to seek winter sanctuary. Favoured resting places are side channels, deep pools, log jams, adjacent riparian ponds or wetlands and the undercut roots of streamside vegetation. The small fish do little feeding or even moving around in winter. There is little food to be had and the cold water makes the fish very lethargic. When spring finally arrives the survivors are thin, dark and weak.

Spring is a time of revival in streams and the young trout are quick to regain their strength and vitality in the warming, energy rich water. Fish that seemed barely alive in March are now healthy and active. Some of the more vigorous are able to double their size in the spring and early summer months. In some of the more productive South Coast streams, some fish are now large enough to smolt and head for sea. Most will remain for another year or two.

The larger young trout that remain in the stream, can seek out pools now as their summer habitat. They are now larger than young coho and are free to choose their living space without interference. In many small streams, the riffles are too shallow to support the fish. Some streams even become intermittent in the summer and early fall and the pools provide the only water. The cover and shade provided by streamside vegetation, logs and boulders become important survival factors. When winter returns, the fish again seek out shelter and with the onset of spring, the fish begin to feed ravenously and up their size to 12 – 20 cm. Then, late in April or early in May under the cover of darkness and the murky water of spring freshets, the fish move down to begin a new life in the sea.

When the trout reach saltwater, the trout do not adapt the wanderlust of steelhead and salmon.

Far from it. Hey are content with the bounty of estuaries and the shoals of nearby beaches and bays. They seldom stray far from their home stream – to the delight of anglers – and are happy to dine on the local smorgasbord of small fishes, shrimp, sand worms and larval forms of marine life.

Cutthroats grow rapidly in the ocean environment and at the end of their first ocean summer many have added 8 – 12 cm of length and have grown from 55 to 270 grams. In the fall and early winter, all cutthroats return to their home stream though not all spawn. Some males are sexually mature after their first summer of ocean life but most fish spawn after their second saltwater summer. The reason cutthroats do not grow as large as steelhead and salmon is that most spend only three to five months at sea each year. While they may live longer and spawn more often than steelhead and salmon, they spend a much larger portion of their lives in streams spawning and overwintering – tough times They seem to have a keener instinct for getting on with the job of survival and an ability to make the best of what nature offers them. This has gained them loads of respect among anglers and biologists. Indeed.

Coastal cutthroat in lakes exhibit a somewhat similar life pattern to sea runs. Spawning and early development occur in the tributary streams before the trout move to the lake for faster growth, mature and return to the streams to spawn. Major differences are most young migrate to the lake as yearlings and in larger lakes with a good food supply they may grow much larger. They live longer in the lakes before returning to the streams to spawn.

Surprisingly, cutthroats in lakes have been shown to make lifestyle adjustments when competing salmonids are present, much the same way they do in streams. When rainbows are present in roughly equal numbers, the more aggressive rainbows dominate the surface and upper zone of the lake where they feed on zooplankton and insects and do not grow large a three or four pounder is a prize. Cutthroats are more oriented to the bottom where the food supply is generally much richer and the cutthroats make better growth than their upstairs neighbours. Rainbows are usually only naturally present in the larger lakes. The rainbows that are present in many of the small lakes in populated areas are stocked hatchery fish. Cutthroats are better suited for all lakes but hatcheries have a hard time finding reliable brood stock. Because they key on fish when they grow bigger, some become quite large.

When cutthroats share lakes with Dolly Varden, it’s the Dollies that take the bottom. Dollies are not common in south coast lakes. They are a very cold water fish and the southern lakes may be getting too warm. They are more numerous in north and central coast lakes where glacial runoff keeps waters cold.

When cutthroats have lakes to themselves and good spawning streams are present, they tend to overpopulate and seldom become large.

THE FUTURE

In some ways, cutthroats have become the forgotten fish of the coast. There has been bursts of hope with the implementation of the Salmonid Enhancement Program (SEP) and its public involvement initiative. Fish biologists have long known of the manageability of the small stream environments of the fish. These small streams are often easily improved by such measures as headwater storage, structural improvement of habitat features such as cover and spawning gravel. Because the fish stay close to home in their ocean phase instead of wandering the sea subject to commercial fisheries, cutthroats are more manageable than steelhead or salmon. The SEP public involvement program has spawned a multitude of stewardship groups that have taken on a lot of the management and protection tasks for the small streams.

But the little creeks are also easily subject to harm and as quick as they may be to respond to a helping hand, they can just as soon suffer from careless land use practices. A lot of effort has been spent trying to educate people on the sensitivities of small streams but there are still significant issues where private land development brushes up against a common property resource and people may actually own the stream bottom. The regional stewardship groups are working hard in their communities to make sure people know about the cutthroat creeks and respect their needs.

In the 1970s, I worked for the BC Fish and Wildlife Branch on Vancouver Island out of Nanaimo. One of my colleagues was Gordon Smith, a wildlife technician and Nanaimo native. He often told me about his grandfather who fished the local streams often for “trout” and usually made great catches. This must have been in the 1920s or 30s. Steelhead fishing was practically unheard of. The streams Mr. Smith fished were still in Nanaimo but there were few or no trout left. Cutthroats are disturbingly susceptible to over fishing because they are so easily caught. I have heard of early days anglers catching dozens in a few hours of fishing. Regulations must be extremely conservative. I think only barbless flies should be used and all fish carefully released. It is only by protecting and improving habitat and not killing any, that cutthroats will return to their honoured position as the Native trout of the BC coast.

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A selection of sea-run cutthroat flies that imitate small fish. Note that they are not barbless.

Ted Burns

August 11, 2020

Original version published by the BC Fish and Wildlife Branch in 1981 with art work by Jack Grundle and photos by Ron Ptolemy and the BC Provincial Museum.

GETTING HOTTER AND DRIER?

Thursday, October 8th, 2020

HOT, DRY SUMMERS HARD ON FISH

By

Ted Burns

There is nothing unusual about dry summers on the South Coast and particularly on Southern Vancouver Island but his year has been extreme so far. The prolonged spell of hot, dry weather is taking a large toll of young trout and salmon.

The drying began in late winter – a winter with very little mountain snow. February and March precipitation was far below normal. There was bit of a recovery in April but May and June were very dry. By early June, it was hot. The temperature climbed above 30 degrees on June 4 and there have been many days since then where temperatures soared into the upper thirties baking the creeks and warming Cowichan Lake and river to record levels. There was even a July night where the temperature only fell to 27 degrees

The lower ends of many Cowichan Lake tributaries dry in most summers but drying began much earlier this year, and if the drought holds, drying will be much more extensive. The Cowichan Lake Salmonid Enhancement Society and Cowichan Tribes salvage young trout and salmon from drying streams but they have been hard pressed to keep up this year and the CLSES fry salvage budget ran out the last week in July.

Temperatures in the lake and river have been much higher than normal. When they exceed about 21 degrees, which they began to do in mid – June, young fish seek out cooler water. Young trout and salmon (a large percentage of coho fry born in lake tributaries migrate down to the lake to complete the freshwater phase of their life) are forced to move out of the shore zone of the lake where they are better off because rearing conditions are the most favourable and spend the summer in deeper water. In summers like this one, cool water in Cowichan Lake is deeper than 20 metres (60 feet plus). Living conditions are not the best in the lake depths. There is no food and no place to escape when predators like big trout arrive. Cowichan Lake surface temperature has ranged around 23 – 27 degrees since July. In summers like this, the lake usually doesn’t cool enough for the fish to move back into the shallows until mid – October. CLSES has been trapping coho smolts near the outlet of Cowichan Lake for several years. In summers when the young coho can stay near shore, smolt numbers the following spring approach 300,000. After summers when the fish have to tough it out offshore, fry to smolt survival is far less.

In the Cowichan River, coho fry vacate large areas when the water warms. No one is sure where they go but they can be found where there are up welling springs of cool water or where groundwater fed side channels enter. There are not many of these places.

What can be done to moderate the effects of these increasing common California summers (and winters)? We need to be much more proactive about storing winter runoff in wetland basins for summer release. There are a large number of headwater wetlands on Cowichan Lake tributaries where low weirs could retain winter water that could slowly be released in the summer months. This would provide year round flow in many creeks that now dry early. A deep water discharge of cool water from the depths of Cowichan Lake could possibly provide enough cool water to the river so that young salmonids could stay in their home territories instead of concentrating in cool water refuges where competition lessens their survival. Measures like these are very difficult to accomplish because of competing interests and bureaucratic resistance. In the meantime, pray for rain this summer and hope for cold rainy winters with lots of mountain snow but don’t count on it.

Robdry

This part of the Robertson River was dry by May this year – 1998.

Fish Town

Wednesday, October 7th, 2020

A TOWN FOR FISH :LAKE COWICHAN

By

Ted Burns

Cowichan Lake Salmonid Enhancement Society

It’s a sunny early May day. I’m standing on the car bridge watching a pair of rainbow trout holding above a gravel bed where they recently spawned. A few months before, coho and chinook salmon spawned on this same gravel bed. I’m also seeing a steady stream of silver bright coho smolts moving downstream toward the estuary and coho fry are heavy in a weedy backwater below the bridge. Every so often a large brown trout shoots out from under a log to chase the fry or smolts. It occurs to me that there is probably no other place on earth where one can witness such a spectacle of trout and salmon abundance in the center of a town.

I’ve lived most of my life in trout and salmon country from Northern California to Northern BC and seen much more than my share of their abundance – the still impressive summer chinook migration into the Columbia River, the huge pink salmon runs of the Lower Fraser between Chilliwack and Hope, the great interior sockeye runs to rivers like the Adams and Horsefly and the massive returns of kokanee to Kootenay Lake tributaries like Meadow Creek and the Lardeau River. However, in all my travels I’ve never seen a town that has so much productive fish habitat within or close to its boundaries as Lake Cowichan.

This town is truly unique in terms of trout and salmon habitat. We not only have the Cowichan River and lake within our borders and nearby environs, we also have twelve smaller streams, ten Cowichan River side channels, three small lakes and several productive wetlands.

The Upper Cowichan River with its abundance of superb chinook, steelhead, coho and rainbow spawning at Hatter’s Run and Little Beach, would be enough on its own to set the community apart from others that claim fame as special places for trout and salmon. Major chinook spawning occurs right in the front yards of several Greendale Road residences. But that’s just the beginning of Lake Cowichan’s trout and salmon bounty.

Greendale Brook (Tiny Creek) is a little spring fed stream less than a metre wide and five hundred metres long. It’s located in the backyards of the same Greendale Road residences adjacent to the prime chinook spawning area. A few weeks after the chinook are finished; coho spawners jam this amazing little brook. As many as 150 return in good years along with a few cutthroat and brown trout. This year, even a few chums were present. Stanley Creek is another backyard stream a few hundred metres up the road. It supports small runs of coho and has resident populations of rainbow, cutthroat and brown trout along with a few Dolly Varden. In some years, it gets a slug of chum salmon in its lower end.

Moving west into the downtown area we encounter a pair of springs near the home center that do not support fish on their own but the Cowichan Lake Salmonid Enhancement Society (CLSES) makes use of their clean, cold water to incubate coho eggs and rear some fry. The next stream is Beadnell Creek, formerly a very strong producer but it has been compromised by a concrete flume west of MacDonald Road that is difficult for trout and salmon to pass. It still supports runs of coho, cutthroats and brown trout and CLSES is working to make it easier for fish to navigate. Just a stone’s throw to the west of Beadnell is Oliver (Hatchery) Creek and Friendship Park. Oliver Creek is a beautiful little stream that has supported truly impressive runs of coho. As many as 1000 have ascended in good years. Of late, it hasn’t done so well but CLSES is working on the few factors that can be improved and it is hoped that it will soon regain its glory. It also supports strong runs of brown trout and both rainbows and cutthroats use it as migrant spawners from the river and lake and as residents. There is one more little brook on the north side of town. Tern Creek enters the river across from Gillespie Park (the little green beside the Co – Op). Unfortunately, much of its area is buried in culverts but a few coho and trout mange to hang on.

The south side of town is not quite as blessed but it does have one of the better coho – cutthroat streams in the Cowichan watershed: Beaver Creek. This creek was on its last legs before CLSES started working on it in 1983. It is now producing at very high levels with greatly improved summer flow and an improved channel and bed. As many as 600 coho have returned to Beaver after restoration.

Money’s Creek is the other stream on the south side and it was a good one. It starts in Kwassin and Grant Lakes and enters the Cowichan through the wetland on the north side of Cowichan Avenue by the new tennis courts. Not much is left after it was diverted to the Cowichan River via a blasted ditch in 1971 but some of the wetland is still present and is utilized by young coho and trout when water is present.

More excellent fish habitat is located just to the east along Hudgrove Road where a number of rich Cowichan River sidechannels are present along with Fairservice Creek and its myriad of tributary wetlands. This area will likely be included in the town in the future.

This is probably a good thing because the people of Lake Cowichan are beginning to realize that they have something very special when it comes to trout and salmon.

For those that want to learn more about Lake Cowichan fish habitat, visit my web site at www.tedburns.net..

Now is the time to see the spawning glory of salmon in the Cowichan River. Try Little Beach for spring salmon or check above the weir on the south side where half a dozen are spawning. Coho will arrive in the upper river later this month and, if we ever get some rain, will enter the lake tributaries in late November or early December. Beaver Creek is one of the best places to see spawning coho. Take the Leo Nelson Trail which starts behind the South Shore Motel.

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Little Beach, an important Cowichan River spawning area