Stories
To Fillet Some Fish

We now live in 100 Mile House, British Columbia. It is about 500 km (300 miles) from Vancouver. I am no longer a practicing engineer. I quit that in November 2004 and moved from Saskatchewan to BC in December of that year. I am now a journeyman gas fitter (part pipe fitter, part mechanic) (Heating/Ventilation) and an apprentice in refrigeration at present. I am chief service technician and (just appointed) general manager of a small HVAC company in 100 Mile House. And, since most people ask, 100 Mile House began as a stop along the old Gold Rush Road between Lilloet (on the Fraser River) and the interior gold fields. It later became a stop on the overland route to the Klondike during the gold rush of 1898.

Life in Northern Saskatchewan

The spring of 2003 saw us moving two small boys, a pregnant Jane, and a wayward engineer/graduate student to the wilds of northern Saskatchewan. I had taken a position as an engineer in Flin Flon, MB. However, there was no way we were going to live in the town of Flin Flon – it is literally built on the Canadian shield and hardly any vegetation whatsoever grows there. The sewer pipes are above ground (inside insulated wooden boxes) and the houses barely have elbow room between them-not to mention the 840 foot smoke stack that would frequently inundate town with sulfur dioxide from the copper smelter. We therefore settled on a house about 20 miles northwest of Flin Flon at Tyrell Lake, SK at 55 degrees north latitude. Electricity had just got there a couple years before and phone service was radioed in via a tower in Creighton, SK. At Tyrell Lake there are about 15 dwellings with 14 year-round residents (of which we were five).

Life there was like camping. Our house was situated in the forest on an esker created during the ice age so the soil was all fine sand – very nice for two boys, two big dogs, and a killer cat named for Jerry Garcia. We had a 15 foot well in a 4 foot culvert inside our house – if it had been outside it would have frozen as the frost could get as low as 16 feet (depending upon snow cover). Even in the house, the well could freeze when temps got below -40 so we had to put 100Watt light bulbs down to keep it liquid. We couldn't even have a septic field because the land behind ours was protected wetland so we had a holding tank, which had to be pumped once a month. Being on the wetland meant we were set near and upon many wildlife paths. Black bears were very common and, on one occasion, one big boar was found checking us out through the basement window. The moose were HUGE – one time skiing I came across a gigantic bull. He was about 10 feet away from me and I didn't even come close to even his shoulder. His rack must've been six feet across. Some bulls there approach 1800 lbs. I'm fortunate it wasn't a cow as they are known to attack people who surprise them, especially if they have calves under a year.

Summer could be very hot or very cold – there would be days close to 100F and on June 23, 2004, we had eight inches of snow. The ice wouldn't retreat fully from the lake until the very end of May and could reach 42-50 inches in thickness in March. Winter was very long, dark, and cold. Winter, in the short time we were there, made its first appearance around the tail end of August and would set in for good by the second week of October – I recall -35C (-31F) on the 12th of October. The coldest we ever experienced was -47C or -52.6F with a windchill around -60C( -76 F). I can tell you that even with down bibs and a down parka on top of three other layers of clothing in addition to a hat, hood, and balaclava, that one can still be unbelievably cold. My truck had slid off the road and I had to walk home about 1.5 miles into the north wind. The only thing I could think about was Jack London's “To Build a Fire”. Note: the northern lights were absolutely staggering as to have the memory of many displays burned into our memories. And the wild blueberries (the biggest maybe the size of a .22 slug) formed a veritable carpet of blue in the bush in late summer and early fall.

In spite of the harsh climate, it was a fairly idyllic existence. In the summer, one can go out fishing at 10:30 pm in bright sunshine and go until full darkness (about 1:30 am). Dawn would then break about 3:20am in high summer. And, begging forgiveness from my Evart cousins, it was the absolute best northern pike fishing. Honestly, we only got skunked on northerns just once, but Connor (then six) had quite a haul of perch and whitefish. I got skunked, but then again, I still have problems sitting still in a boat or canoe. I developed a hearty tolerance and affinity for the cold. I liked to go into the bush and cut wood at -30 (we burned about 8 cords each year we were there) and go skiing at -40. I got frostbite on my pinky toe one time skiing at -43C – my boot insulation had worn through in one spot. It was excruciating when the toe was warming up and to this day that toe and that area of my right foot ache fiercely when it gets cold.

Services there were difficult to come by. For example, the nearest vet was over 150 miles away. This became painfully clear when my old dog (my firstborn), Roxanne, had a stroke or something. She couldn't walk or eat or anything. It happened in January, in the midst of a cold snap when the temperature didn't get about -30F for nine weeks (I'm not kidding about the cold). I deemed it too dangerous to drive that far for an obviously dying dog so I was forced to shoot her. Fortunately for me, I had made good friends with my neighbor, Dave. Dave helped one night after work to four-wheel through the bush to a bluff overlooking the lake. We had a load of old pallets and proceeded to build an enormous bonfire in order to thaw the ground to facilitate the digging of a suitable grave. We burned and dug for three hours. It was one of the saddest things I've ever had to do in my life. We erected a large cairn of big rocks to protect the grave from wolves, bears, and wolverines.

A funny aside regarding Dave...he worked at the mine with me and one time on his days off, he developed a bad toothache and, as it was Friday night and the nearest dentist was in Prince Albert (260 miles away), he ask me to try to pull the tooth. I initially refused, but he showed me how loose it was and I could see it actually fizzing. I then agreed. So, with a small set of channel locks and some bourbon – for sterilization, anaesthesia, and courage (for me)- I proceeded. I only succeeded in breaking the tooth, but the most painful and infected part had come out. He was then able to cope until Monday and had the tooth extracted. Still can't believe I did such a stupid thing. But life there was very different.

The most eventful occurrence there was when our elder daughter, Georgia was born. While still in Vancouver, Jane and I had decided on a natural home birth. We had been seeing a midwife there. When we moved, we still prepared for the home birth. I learned all sorts of things and we had everything the midwife said we'd need. I am not at squeamish about such things. So, one Sunday morning I awoke to find Jane in labor. It got progressively stronger. I gave her warm baths and massaged her lower back. At about noon, I noted an increase in her blood pressure and some spotting. Since these were two of our predetermined criteria for going to a hospital, we packed the boys off with some friends and headed into Flin Flon to the hospital with Jane's brother (who was visiting for a couple weeks).

She was in increasingly bad pain as we drove (way too fast). Suddenly, her water broke (of course on the leather upholstery). When we about 4 minutes from the hospital, Jane instinctively changed position into a birthing position and said, “she's coming” - which was interesting, because we had no idea the sex of the baby and there hadn't been a girl born in her family since her. Well, we pulled into the parking lot of our mechanic right on the border of Manitoba and Saskatchewan and Jordan (Jane's brother) got out, walked around the vehicle, opened the door, and exclaimed, “Holy s***, I can see the head!”. So Jordan and I managed to change spots. With me catching, Jane gave a push and the baby's head and shoulder emerged. I supported the head and gave the shoulder a nudge and suddenly I was holding my brand new baby girl! Georgia has the interesting and unique distinction of being the only person born in Flin Flon, SK. It is part of the main town, but on the Sask. side of the border and legality said it had to be that. Her little body shuddered in the cold breeze and, to this day, she is our little furnace. As a little girl, she has developed into the almost-spitting-image of her grammy (Joanna).

We stayed there for over a year after that. The company for which I worked was run very poorly and my job was very dissatisfying. I quit in late November 2004 and have never looked back. We still miss our little piece of paradise, though. It was one of the most wildly beautiful areas I've been to – and I've seen more than most folks in that respect.