Ocean Falls Museum - Personal Recollections

Memories of Paul Strebel

These memories of Mr. Strebel, are exerted from the Ocean Falls Residents Group at Yahoo. These postings written by Mr. Strebel  started March 16th 2001, and terminated, April 4th 2001. At times there were postings almost daily.

It is so extensive that links are supplied for each chapter and a return link as well. This way in your return visits, you will be able to relocate with ease your last read, and be able to continue on.

I arrived in Canada
My first day
Life on the other side of the bridge
Pay-day
Building Boom
On Canadian citizenship
And up a step again
Some names which float around my head
Being single gave me opportunities
A Jewel Found
On top of old Baldy
Destination: Fish-creek valley
Martin lake to Link lake tunnel
On good and trusted people
A trip to Four Lakes
Sawmill mountain trip
Roscoe Lake here we come!
"My life" is about to change to "Our life"
We did not arrive with a big bash
A family is started
Our own boat on the lake
The first return visit to the old country
Our first daughter is born
Second girl joins the group
A third girl joins the pack
Difference between a Hobby and a Job
And another son was born
A fourth daughter is born
#8 child and youngest daughter is born
Years of change
What is next?
Sulphite and Kraft phase-out
And the demise came
Of boats we owned
A beautiful boat our third one
Marco Polo brings us to Kimsquit
Sagar Lake
A hunting trip to Kwatna inlet
A trip to the head of Roscoe Inlet
Wet and cold in a open boat
A hunting trip to Kimsquit
More trips around Ocean Falls
A scouting trip
Fish creek to camp twenty on land
Ending in 1971
What about a post mortem?
1999 Visit to Ocean Falls
Second day
Third day
Fourth day
Fifth day
Sixth day
Seventh and final day
Some historical facts

I arrived in Canada in 1948 and worked a short time in Chilliwack. Reading the Province Newspaper I spotted an ad, where the Pacific Mill Co. was looking for people to work in their operation. Being a Cheese Maker by trade, this prospect did not look too great, but then I just hoped it would be better then what I had, as I was almost totally isolated, had no opportunity to learn and speak much English, neither any other language, as I was practically alone by myself all day. I wrote an application and received an answer some three weeks later, it was early September, they had some openings and wanted me to come to Vancouver to their Carrall Street hiring office. Great I thought, requested a day off the next day and off I was for my interview and medical, by the day's end I was not only hired, also had my ticket for the passage two days later to Ocean Falls, on the steamer Cardena, operated by the Union Steamship Co. This Company serviced the many logging camps up and down the coast, for many years, I do not remember how many stops we made, it may have been seven or six. The ship left Vancouver at 5.00 pm Sat. and on Monday morning I stepped off the Cardena around eight o'clock. Stepping out onto the deck, I heard the mill running, a light rain fell, over the bridge came the local train with paper rolls to be loaded onto the boat, yes Ocean Falls had a functioning freight railroad with tracks leading to several important areas in the mill and town. In front of me and to the left was the newly built Martin Inn Hotel, the third biggest Hotel in its younger years. The place looked impressive to me, the Mill, the Dam, the town with the lovely back-drop, Sawmill mountain, Baldy and Caro Marion.

At each boat - stop several passengers would get off the boat, but as I remember, I was the only one getting off at this stop, Ocean Falls, it is possible others debarked ahead of me as I traveled steerage class, slept in a common section and ate my meals with the crew downstairs where also my bunk was, all this and 40 hrs ride up the coast with the most enjoyable scenery and good food, all this for $11.50.

I grabbed my two suitcases walked to the Martin Inn and registered at the desk, after these formalities room 319 was my room shared with a second person, cost $27.50 month. At the desk I was advised to be at the mill office at 10.00 and would get further instruction there. Everything went well so far, at the mill there sat a Union official for the special purpose to sign up all new hiring, this done I proceeded to the Ind. Rel. person right next to this person who was making sure no non union would work in the unionized mill. Was now also signed up with the mill, was issued a voucher to enable me to go to the company store and buy some rain - gear, was told that I would start in the yard dept in the morning of the following day. Well here I was and already a day off, on my first day.....I questioned the I.R. person and let him know, that I really was ready to work right now, a phone changed all this and I was to start at one o'clock at the yard-office. Rate of pay: $1.06hr. As a member of the yard-crew, one does several types of work, the first few weeks while with the yard-crew I was cleaning up here and there, washing roads, unloading the Sulphur-boat, unloading hundreds of pallets stacked with salt-cake, all day and evening hours, loading paper onto barges at the marine elevator, a ten-day stint at the precipitator bagging saltcake while the screw and conveyor mechanism was being repaired. By now I was two or three months in the mill working as casual labour, I got exposure to various places, jobs and people. My time was up, I was assigned a permanent dept. Yes tomorrow I was to report to a Mr. Staples in the Sulphite dept. Several members I had worked with did not think much of my new posting, they certainly would not want anything similar, the Sulphite mill was supposed to be a foretaste of Hell, just terrible. I did not know what to make out of it, tomorrow I would find out. At least this gave me a home dept. to work with a known schedule of hours and job to work at. Looking at it this way I saw some definite advantages, the situation was not bad, as a matter of fact I looked forward to that job in the Sulphite-mill.

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My first day

I reported for my first day to "my" assigned dept. the Sulphite office. I introduced myself to the person there, it was Frank Robertson who also give me some instructions on Safety and work schedules etc. and delivered me after these initial pointers to the top or operating floor of the digester house, introducing me to the two men on shift, one of them, the cook and senior operator, the other his helper which job I was supposed to learn by working along side and listening to all his pointers, especially in respect to the dangers of the job and on the doing it in a safe manner. At an opportune time we went to the mill stores and I was issued a respirator, goggles and a pair of gauntlet type gloves, these became my personal things, also a locker on the operating floor to keep them when going off shift, somewhat later I found out why I was issued that respirator, a digester was going to be "blown" empty of its charge, the opening of the blow - valve was done from the second floor by means of a long steel pipe connected to a 90 degree bevel gear, the opening required the effort of two men and considerable effort, with much steam and gas (sulphur - dioxide) escaping and rising rapidly to our area. At this first opening I had prior warning of what to expect, but was it ever overpowering this gas, I wanted to run for my life, the only thing which kept me from, was my instructor was exposed to the same "lousy" air and he showed no sign of running away, as it turned out it only lasted one or two more minutes, the valve was fully opened and we quickly moved away to the up-stairs and somewhat better air. This job was performed about three or four times a shift and very quickly the filling with chips, the charging with hot acid, the cleaning up after charging and the packing of the blow-valve became familiar and no longer scary or frightening. I learned each day a bit more about the process, my job and also the people I worked with. All this before the days of any fresh air system installed in the digester house or god forbid any air conditioning in a separate cubicle for the operators. The air on the operating floor was normally at 38 to 43 C and on the middle floor where the opening of the blow valve was done and nobody really worked any length of time, the temp. was 49 - 50 C. All this heat was radiated from the three cookers, which had no exterior insulation, but were double brick lined with acid resistant brick.
Time brought more familiarity and I quickly accepted the situation as it was and also could see the reasons for it being so.

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Life on the other side of the bridge.
Initially I was accommodated in the Martin Inn, had a room for two. Working different shifts was not the most convenient and in a double room, also friends would come calling while one or the other needed sleep, so after some weeks in the Inn, I was given a single room in Bunkhouse # 7. This was located just about where many years later the new bank building was erected. Life in the Bunkhouse suited me just fine, the rent was lower, at 10 dollars a month who would complain? The room was small and long, room for a bed and along the foot board a closet, across from the bed was a small table and chair, one bare light bulb on the ceiling and a double electric outlet. Cooking over a hot plate was permitted. There was one small window with an apple-crate attached to the outside wall. To this crate was an inside partition fastened to gain more space, this was my cooler for whatever I stored and wanted to keep fresh. I want to stress to the younger readers, this was in the days prior to refrigerators, everybody did it, it was not my invention, I just copied others. In the bunkhouse I felt a bit like living in a community, there was a sort of a bond between us, we mostly knew where and which shift others worked. Bunkhouse seven like most in that area had two floors, a kind of a foyer with three good sized tubs to do washing and what else. Hot and cold water piped to all. Two shower stalls and two toilets complemented the set up, I do not want to overlook the janitor, a native of China with the name of Shortie, or at least this is what everybody called him by. Some roomers I remember: a Bruno ...Richard...Stan Kwasinski, Adam Mlozik, Michael Lagan, John Masztalar and others I can not recall at the moment. Richard was our barber, so he had a sideline besides his sawmill job, 50¢ a cut. At a mill rate of 1.06 this was for him one half hour of pay and no taxes on it. Mike across the hall way had a radio and often I would listen the news with him. He was Irish and a good help for me in improving and expanding my vocabulary. When he left for the new mill in Prince Rupert I bought his radio and still have it to this day, now this was prior to any transistors, it has tubes, I never had to replace any, price of the radio new was 57 dollars this represents over 50 hrs gross earnings. to me today the radio has more value than I ever paid for. Yes technology made terrific steps in these years since. Radio reception was practically zero during the day time, and night time reception was lousy to fair to good depending on the atmospheric conditions.
 

Until the early fifties the mill crews worked a 44 hrs week, it changed then to a 42 hrs and around 1953 to a 40 hrs work week. This reduction of hours was probably agreeable to many longer time residents, but for all them single men it was more of a problem of what to do with more time off. The beer parlour did already good business, it did not need more. And lets face the facts, the majority especially of the newcomers wanted to make a few dollars and get eventually again out to what some called the real civilization, have a few bucks saved and with it a start in that "real" world. When one thinks that almost anybody in that real world spends better than half an hour twice a day, going and coming to work, has fewer hours a leisure time, spent with family, wife and children. Most men could not afford to buy a boat and go out onto the water for some recreation and what would they do with fish when one lives in the Martin Inn? The people with a boat in the saltchuck belonged to the Yacht-club, many good and nice boat were moored on the townsite dock, it provided electricity and water at a very nominal annual fee of 5 dollars. On the lake were several boathouses owned by the people who preferred the lake and fresh water. Many years later I was the treasurer and secretary of the Rod and Gun Club for some ten plus years. Families I remember with boats on the lake: Ted Kelly, Paul Gibault, Walter ( Red ) Magee, Pete Trevisan, the Ost family, the Sullivans, young Peter Kelly and a few more I can't recall, altogether some twenty members, this number increased five fold in the late fifties and peaked with 118 members in early 1960. In this world of ours, some people live on a good address, in Ocean Falls it was the Front street. I recall names like: Jim Greig, Roy Gadsden, Alf Harvey, Al Rollins and almost always the Office Manager and the plant engineer. Bill Pound lived in the house where Doug Carson and Family were in the later years, this Doug who built an airplane in the house, made room by removing one wall and when finished he flew that plane all over B.C, and Alberta for more than 25 years, he eventually settled in retirement in Smithers where I caught up with him again many years later. Now Bill Pound had a son whose name most of you hear on the radio, especially when the talk is about the Olympics. It is Dick Pound the small boy from Ocean Falls who is the Vice president of that large organization and lives I believe in Montréal.
 

Going to work became a matter of routine, I liked it, the remuneration was fair and good. For night - shift work 12 - 8 we received 5 ¢ extra pay, also for overtime beyond four hours a voucher for a free meal. Never in my life was anybody so considerate and fair to me, and this was how big Industry treated its workers. This was undreamed of. Some of my co-workers were: Bert Barley, Frank Arnott, Dick Dyck, Jo Yawney, Johnny Gant, Karl Fenske, later a Jock Sims, an elderly Gentleman whose two daughters were war - brides, Dale Borley, John Misko, are some which come to my mind.

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Pay-day was always an important day.

Immediately inside the mill entrance the paymaster and two office helpers sat at tables handing out the pay cheques. For me it was at the beginning so a few dollars below one hundred gross. Going off shift most headed to the bank to cash or deposit their earnings, there always was a long line up at the bank on pay day. I feel the Canadian banks have learned a lot since my early days in Canada, as I had sufficient money brought along from the old country in franc (Swiss currency), while in Chilliwack were I initially worked, the Canadian Bank of Commerce, the Bank of Montréal, nor the Bank of Toronto would accept my money. As a final resort I was advised to try the Bank of Nova Scotia. Hurrah, I hit pay-dirt, my money was accepted and was a new costumer. Now in Ocean Falls there was only one bank and like it or not, I had to change to the C.B.of C. Canada did not know what Tourism was and certainly had no understanding for other currencies except our neighbours to the south. I was later told because the Bank of Nova Scotia is really the Bank of the Mining Industry, they understood the world outside Canada, have always bought and sold silver and gold on precious metal market. My little bank-book or pass-book filled out pages after the pages, got a second and eventually a third one. I kept these booklets of evidence for the next fifty years, now they are gone, only the memories remain.

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Building Boom

Sometime around late 49 or 1950 the townsite experienced a "building boom". A new courthouse with forestry office upstairs, the Canadian Legion building and a new Post Office with living quarters upstairs were constructed. Townspeople wanted to recognize the Legion and every working person in town was asked to contribute a full days wages towards the Legion building to make it possible to have a fully paid, debt free building and I believe so it was at least the first one or two years. It was a legion without any booze being dispensed, a place for social activities of various groups in town. However this changed fairly soon and was "streamlined" a la other legions.

The post office building which was right next the Company store found a new home just 60 feet up the road and adjacent to the fire hall, it was given a new name, Beach apartments. It is the building where Vic Anderson and Hank Lundy had their home, they both must have had the shortest way to go to work as both were members of the fire dept. The spot where the post office was formerly located was needed for the expanded new store. One or two years later the hotel - annex with 107 rooms was built.

It was only now that most residents could have their own numbered mailbox, the old one had an insufficient number, one had to have several years to get one, but then the staff in that original post office was about the most efficient in any Canadian post office. It was the days prior to aircraft bringing in mail, it were the good days when Ocean Falls had dependable boat service several times a week. In winter it was a bit less, due to no tourist boats in the off season. Boatday was always an event, especially the arrival of the Tuesday CN boat from Vancouver in the evening hours and again on Friday the same boat from north going to Vancouver. Was there paper to be loaded on, then it would dock at the mill marine elevator. In the old country there were churchbells to announce the time, in Ocean Falls it was the boat whistle which announced boattime.
 

Life at the mill side progressed, I was scheduled to train on the next job up and a few weeks later again one more step up, Norm Stables wanted to train people ahead for the expected exodus in spring, when customarily a heavy turn over occurred. I have heard stories that as many as seventy men left the mill in one week, most of them going with somewhat of a thought of relieve, glad to meet that outgoing boat.
For me, it always meant some "pain", friends made and here they go again, I questioned myself, why do I not also leave, why do I stay, these quitters are all so happy, something must be wrong with me, questions, questions....a few weeks later some letters arrived at the post office, these same people or often the majority of them were not working yet, pretty tough to get a job, a job with decent pay, a steady job. Some of these men were seen again later, back in town, perhaps one or two years later for a second try. I was single the first 2 ¾ years in Canada, I agree, it was not the best life in a hotel room or a bunkhouse, but then for me at least, I found many things to do, going to the library, learning better English, lessons with Mrs. Howarth, hiking to Twin lakes, the lost lake, going up Sawmill mountain, the Ski chalet, deep into the Martin river valley, climbing Caro Marion, Baldy, going to the Beaver lakes behind Baldy-ridge. Also, as I was "batching", preparing a meal and packing lunches burnt up some time, going for the odd coffee or meal to the Martin Inn and meeting and making friends. I was in some ways lucky being "forced" to speak English, as hardly ever anybody was in town speaking my dialect, as it was for almost forty years, English was my language, it also helped, making contact with Canadians and others who spoke English, there is always a drawback by mixing with birds of the same feather, one deprives itself of the opportunity to learn more about people or the world in its many forms.

Mr. Locke the Manager was also transferred out at this time and Bob Edwards was the replacement.

At the hotel Louis Churchfield was the Manager and a Mr. Brown his assistant. John Rushfeldt in charge of the maintenance, Percy Chatt in charge of the carpenters and millwrights. Roy Gadsden had the Northern pulp wood crews and Don Charleson the Sawmill, Morley Patterson the Kraft mill, Wilf Hill the Groundwood, Les Smith the yard and longshore crews, a man named Anderson was in charge of the Lubrication. His son was the local dentist, in the late forties and early fifties.
 

Grocery and milk were delivered to the houses and apartments by truck, the first car and taxi arrived in very late 49 or 1950, owned and operated by a guy named Gerry who also worked in the Beater-room. With the sub division in the Martin valley in 51 - 52 several more cars appeared. The townsite operated for many years the only two vehicles prior to this time (nor counting garbage or fire dept. and Store delivery trucks) Dwight Lee and his assist. Markel were the people one would see, they were the townsite supervisory crew, delivering materials as and were required. Is anybody remembering Thomson the plumber or Gus Herman, carpenter and Jack of all trades. He is the one under whose direction that old, former post office was moved, I also remember Bill Unger the pipefitter?
 

The company also had a good sized laundry, operated under the supervision of a Mr. Hogard, I believe he came from Denmark originally. It handled all the wash from hotel, bunkhouses, and single men's stuff. During the commercial fishing season there always was a large extra wash to be done. Many a fisherman got himself a free shower in the hotel also. On these days, the liquor store had long line-ups, boys would come with their bike-wagons and "truck" the many cases of beer with their help down the ramp to their boats, these fishermen were always good tipper.
 

Going to work one morning, it may have been late in 49 or early 1950, the bad news was:# 3 Apt. burned down last night. I never heard that fire alarm whistle and must have slept like a log whist 27 families lost their home, their belongings many of the everything. Imagine the shock not only to them, to the entire town, Ocean Falls was fairly close-nit, this was the most terrible, unfortunate happening to most towns-people, so many were affected, now Ocean Falls which always was short on housing had to accommodate these people, it's like having full house and now all you step back, make room their are many more out in the rain, they also require a roof over their head.

The company moved about as quickly with the replacement plans as humanly possible, the new apt. to be named the Willows Apt. was going to be larger, more room for more families. Construction times were announced, but as most of the times, it took much longer, only in 1951 June were the first suites ready for occupation. In the townsite office always was a housing list posted with many names, of new people in town waiting for a place to live, waiting to get out of an attic into their own, now all these families from the burned # 3 were put on the housing list ahead of all the many already on the list, it was done in a fair way, in the proper way. Yes and my name was also on that list and moved 27 spots back. To be cont. Paul

In the past two years, the company, Pacific Mills undertook with Canadian Western Lumber (CWL) a feasibility study of combining forces, capital and know-how, of building a new modern pulp and paper mill at Campbell River, CWL owned substantial forest land on Vancouver Island, had an excellent foreshore property and booming grounds at a bay, only 6 km north of the village of Campbell River which had a population of a few hundred souls at that time. There was not even a bridge across the River, the area north was accessible only by boat. There was potential power available but it had to be developed first and any power project would generate much more than that little Campbell River ever could use. This is one of the reasons why the mill came, a large power user (customer) was wanted. It was the years of awakening in Canada, things started to move. Canadians came back from a war, saw other things, were more open to ideas, and above all, they all wanted to work. They needed jobs, good jobs, permanent jobs. Many of these returning men enrolled in a university program, got a higher education, a degree and become a moving force in society. On the political front, the waning days of the B.C. Coalition Government came to an end, a new word was heard: Social Credit, for some it meant concern as does any fundamental change, anytime, anywhere. For most it was hope, hope of better times, hope of attracting capital which certainly much needed for the multitude of projects going onto the drawing boards. There was hope, strong hope, for dependable solid long term plans, the kids of the returning soldiers were not going to ride the freight trains, not going to be hobos. Parents wanted good schools for their children, universities expanded the manifold, banks abroad were willing to lend (invest) capital. Canada become a more attractive place for businesses from outside the Canadian borders. They looked, investigated and came, realizing the risk of doing so, but most felt Canada could be trusted. Today it may be a word one does not hear that often perhaps, but still the government to a good degree and the Canadian people are two things we can trust. (as long as we do not put all of our trust into election promises) The headtax was removed and also the excise tax. Anybody out there remembering the days every cheque written had to have a stamp attached, a postage stamp, in relation to the value of the written sum?

Canada Pension and old age Security came, many, many years later, actually late, compared to most western nations, but then most Canadians did not know it, relatively few Canadians saw, in them years, much out side their borders. All this came to change, some for the better and some not. But at least there were more opportunities, more ideas and even for the trench-digging Canadian the life was improved by a very large margin. A rural electrification program brought electric lights and stoves and later, many gadgets into the Canadian kitchen, undreamed of before the war. And thinking of all that RV stuff...never heard or even dreamed of...

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On Canadian citizenship.
By just possessing Canadian immigration papers did not mean one would be a full fledged citizen for a while. All these things I did not know initially but one learns as time ticks along. While working in Chilliwack in 1948, there occurred an open position for cowtester, the name had to do with visiting each day a registered dairy farm, mornings and evenings at milking time, this to ascertain the quantify of milk delivered by each individual cow, later to be tested for butterfat and entered in the "herd - improvement book" for establishing a factual info table. This program was supported by the Fraser Valley Milk Producers Association in conjunction with the dept. of agriculture, there was government money in it and why I was turned down for this job was only Canadian citizens or other British subjects could get this job. I as a person who tested much milk and had made an apprenticeship in this field and really the only applicant who qualified was turned down and as simple as this. Maybe it was a good omen. I came to Pacific Mills and they saw more value in me.

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And up a step again.
I was supposed to became an acid-maker. It involved the burning of elemental sulphur in a rotating burner, combustion chamber, pond, adsorption tower where the gases gave up their chemical sulphur dioxide gas, to the alkali milk of lime and left the tower at the bottom in the form of calcium bi-sulphite and on top of the tower the stripped gases no longer containing any chemical. In my first year the sulphur came from Italy, you will know from schooldays, there are two active volcanoes, one in Sicily the other one, I am sure everybody will know it when thinking of Pompeii, the city destroyed and covered 20 feet deep in ashes, this is the Vesuvius. Thanks to Pliny The Elder we know of this events occurring long ago, was it not in 79 AD? All written down for us almost two thousand years ago. Also Mount Aetna, was mined for its sulphur. This source of sulphur was replaced with can. sulphur, a side product of the petro chemical industry being developed esp. in Alberta. Each ton of sulfite pulp required around one ton of sulphur, ten tons of it daily, all to be shoveled by hand. Also on this job one worked alone, the afternoon and nightshifts provided little diversion, but then the operator, called acidmaker had work to do, entering the adsorption tower about every second day to clear and clean the various trays and lead valves, an experience which scarred me in the beginning, the cook was told of our entering the tower, no tagging out, not blanking, nothing, and he was the one he vented the digester relief gases into the tower, never anything happened of any serious nature, and this is the way it was done. On the money side, this job paid 1.27 or some twelve cents more than the next lower job, also it was a job nobody wanted, many quitting the job or if at all being frozen by their choice, but somebody hat to do it, without the acid plant, there would be no sulphite pulp or even newsprint, at least in them days.It all turned out right for me, and paying attention to the operation esp. of the sulphur burner, its level of sulphur, its air control, primary and secondary air, density control of the neutralizing milk of lime to the tower, it all were items which required much constant attention. When I think what fine job could I do with all the newly invented measuring and control instruments of today! Well that was then and this is today.

One had hardly learned the job and was the junior operator of four, and before long the junior man of six months or one year ago, was the senior operator, training again new men to learn the job, so the now new senior man could move up when a vacancy occurred, and they certainly did in the sulphite mill. I was offered the opportunity to become a bleach plant operator, this was also a one man job away from everybody, operating mostly on a one shift basis, it was fairly recently built, Norm Stables was the only person who really had some outside bleaching experience, he worked formerly at Port Alice, came to Ocean Falls to supervise the construction and start up of this new plant. Every ton of pulp to be bleached required around l40 lbs. of elemental chlorine, we received it in liquid form each cylinder holding one ton. It is a chemical which must be handled with much knowledge in its safe use, safety and quality control were written in large letters anywhere near the bleachery. I worked for a short period between the acid plant and bleach plant as the shift coverage required. Not that many months later two of the senior dig. operators terminated, they both got drunk in the beer parlor and did not show up for work the following day, a runner was sent out to inquire about there whereabouts, they showed not the slightest interest of picking up their schedules shift, nothing doing, we quit, that's it. My god, the sulphite had to do some fast training, having lost 50 % of the cooks without any prior warning. I like to state, that the cook was the top hourly position in the sulphite, the pay was almost equal to that of a tradesman. I was training on the new job, each day 12 hours, no days off, we had an emergency situation, if one of the two remaining operators would be sick, the sulphite could not operate, simple as that, a good measure of allegiance what was called for and we all gave it and pulled through, three weeks later we again had a full complement of digester op. (cooks), two of them brand new and a bit green in some areas.

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Some names which float around my head and some I remember through closer contact at work or in the off time. Jack Beach our pipe fitter, later Foreman of the pipe shop, lived in the house were many years later the Jo Check family was, always had a beautiful garden, his brother Norman was in the Kraft. dept. and moved to New Zealand in 1952, Joe Frew also one of our pipe fitters, he had a wonderful voice, a good singer. Billy Calhoun and his men, the Marshall and Hunter families, papermakers, Archie Young, Art Braun, Corky Kuersteiner, Danny Stefanyschen, the Ost family which much later as empty nesters where our neighbours, Phil Campbell had a put boat and boat house on the lake, the Walter (Red) McGee family with their Benjamin Charley, became our neighbour when we lived in 1080 one of the best neighbours one can wish for. The Ramsey family, he working on longshore, she in the store check-out. The Sammy Wilson family, had a son named Jimmy. The Carl Hewitt family, they lived across the road from us when in 1080. The Archie Young family who later moved to the valley, the Zavarese Family with their three children who moved into the residence vacated by Archie. The Malsbury family next to the pump-house and also next to the Zavarese's. Albert Reid, she worked in the Hospital, Albert in the Lubrication dept., they had one son, Gordie McLean from the Bowling alley, the Prosser family opposite the swimming pool, the Andrews family who's house burnt down on Nevin's Ave. The Koppang Family, the Mrs. was teaching many children accordion lessons, the Barnes's, the Grant's who built an steel boat which did not see to many voyages on the chuck and sunk, luckily without any loss of life. The Yukon Smith family, a lively family, their newly self built quite large boat also sunk with a real bang on a hot summer's eve. Stanley Edwards of Lonesome Lake fame, he also built a large boat in an abandoned boatshed in the Martin valley, many years later we cruised in this boat with Stanley to Bella Coola for a weeks holiday. Percy Gadsden and his extended family, the Gildersleeve's, Ted Kelly family, Jesse Bushel and her father the one who caught the largest trout with the least effort, he had probably the greatest know-how.
 

Anything archaic [Gr. archaios, old, ancient] 1. belonging to an earlier period, ancient 2. antiquated; old-fashioned 3. that has ceased to be used, except for special purposes as in poetry, church ritual etc. in or close to Ocean Falls?

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Being single gave me opportunities, time to explore the surroundings on many a good-weather day with work-buddies. The Farm-valley still had much of the buildings erected early on the war, to house milk-cows and some fodder storage, then the area adjacent to it clearly showed the signs of having been cultivated not so long ago to assure at least some vegetables and potatoes in the case the war really would jeopardize the marine traffic from Vancouver north. At the outflow of the lower Twin-lake there was the wooden barricade (dam), built to raise the lake-level by about 50 plus feet, The log flume was still in tact in some way, this flume allowed the logs to be floated over and across the river-canyon right down into the chuck (salt-water) Just imagine the splash that made! There were still several of these really huge logs in much of its length floated up on the shore and dam and inlet to the flume. It always gave me the impression as was it suddenly abandoned, tens of thousands of cut timber after all that hard work of getting them down there, just left to rot. Also some logs were floated from the upper Lake, which with the dam in place and much higher lower lake-level as a result, a few logs were also stuck in the short water way (river) connecting the lakes. Near this site was a shack with still most of the roof intact, a steel bedstead and mattress and a few other signs of human habitation, the mice now calling it their home. Much further in, right at the foot of the mountain, there was a second building, much enclosed by brush and even fairly substantial trees, no bedstead in this structure, several chucks of steel and a few lumps of coal littered the area. Upon inquiring we were told by Sammy Hunter and also verified by Gus Herman, that this was the blacksmith shed in the times of logging there. Where were now all them loggers? Where did they come from? What were their names? A matter to be ruminated on for days and weeks.
 

On the right-hand shore there was a place everybody referred to when fishing: at the Indian painting, this painting must have been painted onto the rock-wall a long time ago, it was protected by the overhanging rock-wall and this way never received any direct rain, but being out in the open and moist air it had suffered and anybody not knowing the exact location could easily miss it. The rock wall was almost inaccessible and very steep, how did the painter get there, on what was he holding on not falling in the lake? When the lake was at its natural level, prior to the dam, this painting would have been about 80 ft. above water, there were possibly some trees growing there, questions nobody could answer, no timber-cruiser ever recorded it. Further up the lake on the same shore, beyond camp twenty there was the hot-spring, we had to wait some years to investigate this phenomenon, with the dam and resulting higher lake-level the spring became submerged. Here are the facts: Lake at full with water at top of Taintor-gates: 269 ft. Dam crest: 260 ft. Hot spring exposed at 238 ft. Some years the lake was drawn down to this level, a few times to the low 230 level, when this happened we always would want to see the hot spring and wonder in amazement, we measured the temp. and got 168 F, the smell was like any other hot spring, the smell of one which came from the Sulphur containing rock, deep down. Eventually we laid the spring more bare, there were many spots where the steaming water sprung forth, we blocked it off with a plastic sheet, weighted down with literally hundreds of rocks, buried a hose and sealed its exit from the plastic sheet, attached a rope to its end buried the hose again in the lake and ran the rope-end up on the shore line well above the lake level, with this set-up we were able to draw hot hot-spring water whatever the lake level was, we kept this secret and for many years it was a secret, only ours to the very few who knew, many years later somebody spotted the hose lying on the shore and cut some length off, probably for a cheap boat-bumper perhaps, and never even realizing what the purpose of that hose was or even knowing there was a hot-spring at the other end.

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A Jewel Found.
Many years later on a hiking trip with some of my youngsters it was. For some time we contemplated an overnight trip to the Goat mountain, this meant going up early and walking the Martin Valley crossing the river and on to the "slide", now the hard part started, up on the slide into the timber and on and on to the top, the area where years later the TV relay tower was built by means of a helicopter. This was a really nice area, no trees, just low brush and heather all around, a really nice view was presented from there of the town, the mill, all the booms along the shore of the chuck, the dam with the lake behind it, Badly in all it' majesty behind and mountain and mountains all the way to Kimsquit and east even to B.C. highest of the coast range, Mt. Waddington. As we set out for an overnight trip, there was more to be seen, we walked along the ridge in the direction of Link lake, Martin valley on the right hand side and Martin Lake in the distance and a narrow glimpse of Link lake. On the right hand side were the upper end of the lower Twin-lake, in the distance the upper Twin lake, starting from mid-point between these lakes was a mountain chain which separated the Twin-lakes from Roscoe inlet, a ridge which we walked later as my boys toughened up and showed interest in the undertaking. On the goat ridge we walked as far as the third mountain-top and camped there. One of the kids saw a pile of stacked rock, certainly be built by man, the curiosity overcame them and surprise, surprise, inside down was a porcelain cup, not the Royal Albert brand, a good cup just the same, now we had believed we were probably the first humans ever to in this area, and see, somebody beat us to it, this was no disappointment though, we were the possessors of a cup to be treasured and taken home. It was used for several years with a special reference, always called the goat-mountain-cup.

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On top of old Baldy and swarms of horse-flies.
Among several jaunts to the top of that mountain, one stands out very much. My two older boys and I were going all the way to the top. It must have been mid- to late August, as there was no snow left on top, we went along Baldy creek to Baldy meadows and up really from the back side of the mountain. All pretty good going, the only game we came across was a blue Grouse. Man, this bird was like a full grown chicken! Later after leaving the meadows we looked for a safe crossing of the river and from there it was all on the right hand side of the river in timber as far as what we called the Baldy-ridge, from there it was more or less open country, easy going and refreshing due to lack of trees. A first good view was to be had of the town, chuck and twin-lake mountain area. Upon reaching the top, we all wanted food and drink and rest. But very little rest was to be had, insects and hundreds and thousands buzzed around our heads, it was particularly bad on account of no wind. Near by, the boys spotted a pile of empty soft drink bottles, all them heavy thick walled returnable Coke-bottles. You guessed it, these bottles could be handed in at the store and a bottle-deposit was to be had back. Horseflies by the hundreds swirling around our heads, many of them beasts we killed and squashed already and still no fewer. One of the boys started crying, went almost berserk, the other wanted all them bottles in my large ruck-sack and in they went until full, I do not remember how many were left behind, but I was the one doing the carrying down and I remember it being a heavy load. The down way was practically the straightest and shortest, but also the steepest way. All went well and at the store made some money for them bottles. In today's world these boys would most probably get a citation from some self-appointed offical-dom.
Well, well this is the way it was.

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Destination: Fish-creek valley.
A warm late summer day it was, Otto Tancon and I were determined to go all the way through and out the fish-creek valley right back as far as we could manage in one day, being home again by night-fall.
Not far into the valley there is a sizeable cataract, the river plunges some 60 ft over a precipice to discharge not much further down into Link-lake. Fish-creek had many trout, a special kind, they all grew to only eight inches, never caught one larger, but there were fish in that river, a multitude, wild ones and very hungry. There was no difficulty to catch them without any bait, the bare hook would do it, with the line and hook thrown in, there would immediately be several fish, literally crash upon the hook, each cast got an instant response. The question was and is: how did these fish ever get into that fish-creek? They may have been small on account of inbreeding, insufficient food or what, I never met a fisheries person explaining it. A good way into the valley, almost half-way, there were signs of some time ago human activity. Cut timbers, posts with thick heavy nails in some of them, little bits of rusting steel, some cans in a pile telling us that a kitchen area was at one time right here. On we hiked until we reached more open area with some pond size lakes, much signs of bear, and a few signs of deer. We were still in the bowl of the valley and to get out of it, would be a two day effort and postponed for a later planned trip. Some days later I ran into Emilio Clozza (the brother of Attilio the blacksmith) He told us that it was a repair and shelter place where we had noticed the signs of onetime activity. He also mentioned that he had a young mountain goat as a pet, rescued from a snow-slide, whose mother (nanny) got killed in the slide. By rutting season this pet became unruly to downright dangerous, after not returning from one of his excursions they wished him well, he joined his own again.

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Martin lake to Link lake tunnel.
I had a day off, the weather was beautiful warm, Emil Bühler from the sawmill my buddy also had a day off, our plan was to go fishing on Link Lake. Going with our 12 foot boat up the lake, we had difficulty fishing due to much wind and white-caps all around. It was either going home or what else? Since we now were right at that water gushing out of that opening in the mountain, why not investigate it? We both agreed, boat tied up safely and up we go, I remember it to be in parts quite steep, so as one had to grab some brushes to hold on. Made it up and hallelujah, looking into the hole (tunnel) we would see daylight and sunshine at the other end, the Martin Lake side. A good amount of water rushed down the tunnel, but being summer and warm, so also was the water, off came the shoes, up with them pant-legs, in short time we tested the water, the tunnel being about nine feet in diameter, a little less in spots, before we realized we waded fifty, one hundred, two hundred feet in. The water lapping around our knees, wished we had taken the pants off, but now it was too late, hit a spot were it was even a few inches deeper, the water reaching the crotch of the pants, the tunnel was just wide enough so one could reach the other wall quickly when moved almost off balance by the current. On the inlet-side there was a log tied with steel cables to some trees , this log prevented possible logs floating free in Martin-lake from getting into the tunnel and obstructing the flow of water or plugging the tunnel itself. I remember the bottom of the tunnel being quite slippery, as all fresh water bottoms tend to be in summer. At the lake side of the tunnel were the rails used in the construction for removing the rock from the inside after blasting, the tunnel is about 450 ft. long, all these rails served no further use and were left and stacked up at the lake side entrance. Many years later Alphons Day, of the one-man sawmill operation fame, got himself a few of these rails, to build his "jack-ladder" to retrieve junk-drift-logs from the lake.

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On good and trusted people.
Until well into the fifties, it was perfectly safe to leave the boat and gear in the boat tied to the float, nothing would ever be removed, so why take it home. Not everybody had a boat house, no lockers at that time. Lockers only came about 1956 and later perhaps. In 1955 we went for three moths to Europe, did not even lock the doors, everything was left untouched by anybody, we knew it was safe, we trusted people, esp. our neighbours. And so it was. Anybody who would want to get in, would get in anyway, so why have the doors or windows broken? My trust in people never let me down, my entire life, I grew up with good people, we trusted them.

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St Peter and Hubertus hear we are!

A trip to Four Lakes.
Günther Schuster, Johnny Zillich and I planned a one week stay at Four-lakes. Stanley Edwards with his Boat Orion brought us out, it was mid-November and already dark, as Stanley worked his regular day, prior to us going. He approached the shore slowly, we went overboard with hip-boots, unloaded our considerable "gear", Stanley backed out and returned to Ocean Falls. He returning one week later to pick us up.

Our big gear consisted of one Klepper Faltboat, one 10 HP motor, three or four gas-tanks, two tents, one ruck-sack for each of us, full with food for ten days, cooking stoves and all that camping stuff, sleeping bags, lots of spare socks, pants and each a pair of spare shoes or boots. All this had to be packed up and into the forest, were our camp was being built. The real hard job came the following day, carrying that heavy boat up to the lakes, gas-cans, motor, oh they made them so heavy in them days. We were blessed with good weather the entire week, some frost on some of the mornings. We had a most enjoyable time, never to be forgotten, hours and hours of campfire time, fish almost too easy to catch, yes and we all got "our" deer and to top it of, also a jack pine Christmas tree. How many times we repeated similar trips, there were many, each an experience by itself.

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One of many sawmill mountain trips.
We usually tried to be at, first day-light, at the latest, at the first steps of the trail leading up to the Chalet. (Shake-chalet for some, Ski Chalet for others) The trail was reasonably maintained, not too steep and one could make good time. For the skiers, the Lodge beckoned at about the half-way point, for other hikers with the intent of going up all the way, it was one hour more. It was possible to hike back in the direction of the Wallace Bay on top and returning home again over the top way. I liked it, because one did not have to use a boat, or walk a long way like out the Martin valley, when going up goat-mountain. A good view of the town was to be had, also an excellent one of Caro Marion on clear days.

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Roscoe Lake here we come!
Ever been to or seen Roscoe Inlet, or Roscoe lake? I guess very few.
Anyway this was our cherished dream, the overland way we traveled. Roscoe lake is similar in size and location as the better known Martin lake. Ottorino, Tancon and I, had surveyed the approach, all we required was a good dry, and preferably a clear day. The hoped for day came, weather just beautiful, no wind, traveled by lake boat to within about a mile or  mile and a half of Three Rivers. We tied the boat secure in between two stumps with sufficient slack rope to allow some give and take. It is so simple when you know the ins and outs, all safe, our ruck-sacks onto the backs and up we went. We had Roscoe lake in sight one hour later and before long we sat on the shores of that lovely lake. Emilio Clozza in his younger years logged over there, but few signs of it could be seen when we visited Roscoe lake. This was one more good hike to be cherished for a life time. I made it a second time with one of my boys.

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"My life" is about to change to "Our life".
At mid April, there were still over three feet of snow on the ground, I was going on a holiday the first time out of Ocean Falls, on the Friday CN Prince Rupert (boat) April 20/51. My wife to be who was a girl-friend of one of my sisters, I had met some five or six times in the two years prior to my emigration to Canada, was arriving in Vancouver from Zürich, traveling by train, ocean steamer and train again. We corresponded for almost three years and got to know each other at least on our attitudes towards most things one would meet in life, we always felt a firm trust towards each other and wanted to start a life together in this brand new country, at least for her. I was quite sure she would feel at home in Ocean Falls and so she was. My immediate problem was housing, the new # 3 apt. was supposed to be finished, but was six months late, when stepping onto that boat in April, I did not know where we as a couple would stay on our return, was assured be the housing administration, that something would be waiting for us. It would have been nice to know where, at least for my wife, but as things were, it just was not so. I arrived in Vancouver, had a room in the Georgia Hotel, 9.50 dollars a day and reserved one for my girlfriend who arrived the following Monday, April 21st. On Sat. of the same week was our wedding planned at the Holy Family Church on east 33rd street. Our wedding party consisted of two witnesses, the priest and us two. After all I did not know anybody in Vancouver. On Monday after, we took the ferry to Nanaimo, checked into the Malaspina Hotel, (this burned down some years ago) looked at the town, visited a sawmill operation, the beach and not much more I can remember. The next day we went to Port Alberni, stopping at the Cathedral Park and admiring the large fir-trees there. The following day from Alberni to Victoria by bus, (I had no drivers license nor car), stayed in Victoria for three days, visiting some of the sights and back to Vancouver on Saturday's ferry. On Mon. following we stepped onto the Prince Rupert again for that 20 hour trip to Ocean Falls, the town which was our town for many years, all our children were born there in that small hospital , yes all eight of them. The town which offered so much to us and all without the ownership of a car, this no car town was a blessing in disguise, especially for a young family, we stayed in town even after the subdivision was built in the valley, the prime reason was, we did not need a car if living in town, were close to all the services of the town and the job.

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We did not arrive with a big bash.
Boat arrival always was an event in Ocean falls, especially so on a nice spring early evening and so it was on that 8th of May 1951. Several of my work-buddies were waiting and greeting us. Some of the names Len Reitlo, Harry Olesky, Jack Miles. They also carried a message, that I was scheduled for tomorrows day-shift. Now I had to check with the hotel desk where our assigned lodgings would be till the willows was ready to move into. We were given a room on the top floor, a corner-room in the Kimsquit Lodge, this is the building which was converted into the hospital many years later. This lodge housed most of the female staff working in the hotel and had a lady I forgot her name, in charge and residing there. I was the only male occupant of the lodging a somewhat strange feeling with all them ladies, guess there were at least twenty of them. My concern was what my wife would do, speaking little English, I at work and she strange to everything and everybody. At this time, I still occupied my room in Bunkhouse # 7, the room was needed for somebody else, my wife was contacted to make it available, well she knew I had a key and along she went and moved my belongings to our new temporary residence. Towards the end of my first day back to work, Mr. Stables let me know, that due to manpower shortage, I would have to come back at 4.00 am and work a 12 hour-shift till further notice. And so it was, I worked 12 hours each day without a day off until late August. It were the years when Prince Rupert built a new mill, Alcan had a very large project going, men were needed everywhere, there were jobs to be had, and many quitters, many in Ocean Falls, We really had a difficult time training and espcialy retaining the new trainees to fill a spot. Many were trained, never worked one shift on their own and quit. We were the first couple moving into the new willows in the latter part of June. #309 was our suite. My new wife really had no problem occupying herself, she would take almost daily walks out to the valley, pick salmon berries, make a solitary hike to lost lake and pick blue, and huckleberries, she felt never afraid of any animals in the wild and I myself also never saw any danger in being out in the bush all by oneself. She also started English lessons very quickly with Mrs. Howarth, and from September on, she helped in the kindergarten, she quickly got to know people and children, her English made progress in big steps, she had no time to contemplate and feel lonely. There was work, and variety, and she liked it.

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A family is started.
Our first born, Eric was born the following year, it became a much different world for me, when away from the job. It were now three of us, no longer only one as it was for many years, I felt at home, really at home the first time since leaving home 11 years before in 1940, I was 16 at the time, never knew a home again until 1951.
My father passed away in 1929, leaving my mother to cope with six siblings and in a world which was at the beginning of a very bad depression, not only was it bad it lasted ten years, it seemed as it never would end. My paternal grandfather lived with us, he also passed on in 1933. A great aunt also lived with us, she lived to be 97. It is from her I have many memories, things she told us kids, how the word was when she was a younger person, she was born in 1843, also having lost her father very early, but had the good luck of having had her grandparents living with them, they were born in 1768 and 1776 respectively. It is through her that I have a connection back in years, a time not even the Spanish saw the northwestern shores, before Alexander Mackenzie marked that rock in Dean channel, when there were still so many furry creatures in the coastal waters and fish in rivers aplenty.

One more year and we got ourselves a boat and motor on the lake, one more year and a second child, also a boy, was born to us, we named him Gregory. In his later school years he shortened it to Greg.

Canada moved ahead, there was much mining activity especialy in Ontario. The word was uranium U 35, the Dew line (distant early warning) up north was built with American help. Jobs, Jobs, lots of them, especially for single people.

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Our own boat on the lake.
In early spring of 1953 we purchased a new 12 ft. clinker-built cedar plank, lap strake boat and 5 HP motor. This provided a great outlet for us, also at this time we were living in a house, #1080. Henry Bolivar lived there before us. It is the house which stood at the right hand side, the last one going to the lake. It must have been one of the first built in town, as we found a newspaper dated 1917, in the outer attic area. From this house a good view was to be had, could see each boat coming in around the bend into Ocean Falls. Also the proximity to the lake was great for us, also we had the best neighbours, one can wish, Walter (red) Magee and family on the up side, Archie Young on the downside, across the road the Carl Hewitt family and Albert Reid and family in the bend of the road. A little over the Ramsey family, Louise was cashier and the husband worked with the Longshore-Yard crew. We loved this location, spectators and players of ball-games to and from the ball-park passed our house, anybody going to the lake passed, often showing their catch on the way home. We had about the best location of anybody or so at least we felt.

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The first return visit to the old country.

Late Oct. we left for a 2 ½ months trip to the old country coming back Jan. 13/56. This was one of the driest winters ever in Ocean Falls, the lake level was so low that half the mill was down from mid. Jan. to April. The lake being frozen over till late April.

Our first daughter is born.
In the fifties many people had CCM bike-wagons. They were a strong toy and utility wagon. The boys would ride them down the dam-hill, non stop right to the front-doors of the store. Much groceries were packed home with them, some boys also used them to transport cases of beer for some thirsty fishers and earning themselves some pocket money. Our third child was born in Feb. 56 to the joy of the two brothers and us the parents as well. Many hours were spent on the lake, we got our first tent, a really good one, rubberized bottom and fly-sheet with fly-sheet extension. Unlike many, we never had a cabin on the lake, ours was the house near the dam, also practically right on the lake, with the advantage of running water and all them nice domestic things like flushing toilet etc. We also did some fishing when out with the boat, but for several years really never hooked into a large trout, this was to change, on our first outing of the year, with lunch packed for a full day, I and three or four children drove over to Baldy and planned to start fishing, getting the worm on the hook of two rods, all the while being close to the shore and already I heard the words: we are hungry, can we have a sandwich? There were plenty of them packed, but the first child had hardly bitten into it, all hell broke loose, jerking and snapping on one of the roads meant we had a fish and this without us trying or even holding the rod, after all everybody was hungry and wanted to eat. We netted it eventually, it was big, at least for us, never having had anything much over 14 in. Now nobody wanted to fish any more or camping, all wanted to go home and show their mother this large trout. We had it weighed in at the fire-hall (official weigh-station at derbies) this trout was six pounds and 14 oz. As it turned out it was the largest fish of the year. Received a trophy for it, being the fish of the year.

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A second girl joins the group.
Lucy was born in 57, she was a lively and quick girl. Much camping during the summer, as we had much good weather for a good stretch. With so many men quitting I moved up on the seniority line and soon was the second most senior operator in the dept. Emil Bühler a good friend for five years was going back to his native country, it always was a sad day, when friends left for good, no matter where they went to. Now many years later, it looks as we made the right choice, Ocean Falls always had good schools, there was work at the mill when the kids came home from college or university. Ocean Falls sent a much higher proportion of their youngsters to university compared to most other towns. It is true, going out of town always was costly and the biggest draw back in my opinion, especially so for a family with only one wage earner. In fall I hunted the local area, like Sawmill-mountain, the lake area mostly, and the very odd hunts further away. I hunted deer and goat and soon learned the habits of these wonderful animals. Many a times we would go for a hike or climb in summer, just to observe them. Fawns and young goats are always exiting. At home we got a rabbit and eventually a dog, but never a cat while in Ocean Falls. The majority of the men hunted on the sea shore places, we preferred the lake area, this is also were we had our boat and actually very few hunters ever hunted the lake area. In the following year we purchased a new larger boat, a 16 footer, also built by the Elia Boat Works in Vancouver like the first one. This boat was very beamy, had custom seating arrangement and would sleep two adults quite readily plus two or three kids in the bow. The motor-well was outside, as the mounting also was, this gave us the full 16 feet of length and 30 inches of free-board. This outfit gave us many years much pleasure with safety on the lake and since we had a boat-house, it stayed new for many years. The boat-house was a good investment, a joy to have. Many a times we would go up to the boat-house and just check and look and dream a bit.

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A third girl joins the pack.
Sometime in 1958 a suite in duplex # 662 became our home. We still had a good view and also a little garden space for flowers and some veggies and lettuce. Duplexes were all steam-heated and hot water also produced by steam. With a growing family it became a plus, there also was a ¾ basement area excavated with planked floor and a small steam radiator in this basement, ideal for me to dry my wet cloth and boots, that I usually came home with, when hunting. The entrance into the kitchen led through a enclosed porch, now this porch-floor allowed me by cutting and installing a trap-door to get to the basement without stepping outside and through rain or snow. The children loved this way up and down the vertically installed ladder, could go and play in the basement with their slippers on and no dress-change necessary. As the family grew, I also installed two bunk-beds for the boys, at certain times they reported about all the cat-calling they heard and almost scared them. Our neighbours were: the Stu Mooney's below, the Ost family also below to the right, the other half of the duplex was occupied by the Darl Christensen family, which later moved to the new mill being built in Eureka, California. The Doug Hogg family also below to the left house #667 and one duplex with the Cy Watkins family. Their eldest daughter was our oldest son's Kindergarten teacher, she married Steve Frew, son of Joe Frew, father and son worked in the mill-pipe-shop. In Jan. 59 a third girl was born to us and welcomed into our family.
We named her Elisabeth, Patricia, she was a very solid girl and always some "mischief" in her head. In later years she shortened her calling to Liz., the Patricia part she never liked.

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There is a difference between a Hobby and a Job.
The top "Brass" usually visited the mill at least once a year. Mr Zellerbach would be accommodated at the Company house where there was somebody year-'round to cater for this V.I.P.s. On one of these visits, Morley Patterson Mill Manager asked me to take the afternoon off from work and go and catch some trout, Mr. Zellerbach always likes fresh trout for breakfast, oh my God, not me, being late summer and anybody fishing that lake knew how lousy fishing can be at this warm season, I did not want to, I tried to get myself out of this job, no, all my not-wanting-it did not help. And if you do not catch any, then there are always some frozen ones laid on, just in case, but fresh ones are preferred. With a heavy heart I agreed and soon left the mill. I headed for my absolute best fishing spot and surprise, surprise, one bite, two bites three, four, five, moved a little on and why are these trout biting and so hungry today, I had no answer, but in less then one hour I caught a dozen pan-size trout. My heavy heart had turned to joy and by the 5 o'clock whistle I delivered one dozen cleaned, fresh lake trout to the company-house kitchen. The following day while fishing in the Jenny-Bay area on the Company-boat Leeward, Mr. Zellerbach called Morley Patterson, the mill Manager, to relay his thanks for the lovely trout he had at breakfast time.

A lesson for me, even people of wealth and in high position can say thank you.

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And another son was born.
I usually planned on vacation for the time my wife was due for delivery time. It never was a problem, as most of our children were born in the off-peak vacation time, also in these times prior to air-conditioning, it could be unpleasantly warm in a hospital bed. As it turned out, it was never really warm when she was there. This third boy, born in the summer of 1960 also was a very solid baby, we named him Gilbert, Bernard. He also abbreviated it to Gil, short and snappy. Now we had six, three of each sex, or, as Jack Beach the pipe-fitter told me, three with inside and three with, outside plumbing.

At the mill, the "blood-letting" of quitters slowed a little. Our dept head left for another mill back east, Frank Robertson took his place sometime in 56 - 57. There was a new pulp mill constructed at Castlegar and two more were on the drawing boards for Prince George. Many of these new mills hired experienced people from Ocean Falls. Many became dept heads. There was not one mill in all of BC which did not have at least one or several employees who worked formerly in Ocean Falls. In a sense, the Ocean Falls mill was the training ground for the other mills. Ocean Falls had the three key dept. necessary in the production of pulp, Sulphite, Sulphate (Kraft) and Groundwood. No other mill in all of BC counted all three, many of the new mills had only one, the Kraft process. Powell River had two, a Sulphite and Groundwood mill dept. These new mills, single line operations, were built with much larger capacity, could be operated with fewer men per ton of product, maintenance cost were substantially lower as well as operating costs. Ocean Falls also limited out on power availability, too much distant from other power sources, like Kemano. More and more power was required for the paper and pulp process, the end-product. The paper quality had to be raised due to much competition, the publishers wanted a cleaner, a stronger and brighter paper it all cost more dollars, more chemicals and power which was limited at Ocean Falls. Management felt the squeeze, the noose could be felt. Few would have agreed, many never believed. The sixties rolled on.

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A fourth daughter is born.
Many living at Ocean Falls, know what it means to pack groceries up long stairs. So did we, living in that duplex high up, no road near the house, all and only steps and many of them. Oh, we had many helpers, but always some were too little to be helpers, they required help, to be carried up and down.

I always made an effort to clear the entire stair-way down to the road (fifth-street) prior to going to work, but often as it also snowed when I was at work there were times with snow on the stairway. It was, that I cleared "my" snow and all the others snow, winter after winter. The same applied to all the boat-house owners, many shoveled, and many did not help with the clearing of the floats, not even their own boathouse and allow it to be sunk and damaged, endangering the boat-houses next to theirs. I guess, it takes all kind of people to make a world.

Rita was born on Nov. 23/61, I remember it well, walking down to the hospital with my wife. Three different parties came with deer, loaded on their sleds. It had snowed very heavily for almost two days, there was at least two feet of new snow. This made deer hunting quite easy, with the deer standing on the snow-free shore-line, some feeding on sea-weed, others just standing there. George Gates and Vern Stranahan are two of the hunters that I remember. My hunting was done for the year, right now I had a baby minding job. I must say, children never are too demanding when the mind turns to cooking, thanks for that. This baby girl Rita was a "hairy" one, black hair on the head, body and arms all covered with short, fine hair also. We gave her three names: Rita Ruth, she goes by the name Rita only, often shortened to without pronouncing the final a.

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Good years and good times, our #8 and youngest daughter is born.
Each year seemed to get better, we all were healthy, we all had the most enjoyable times, at home, on the lake, camping etc. The children had many friends, and they all loved school. From Mrs. Dowling to Mrs. Moore. If I had one complaint, it was that the teachers did not give the students sufficient assignments for home work, I hardly remember any of them doing much homework.
At the mill was a rumor, that down at Elk Falls a new machine would be installed, taking the place of #3 and #4 at Ocean Falls. Good news for them, bad news for us in the Falls. Few were dreaming then, that this could or would be the death-blow of also the Sulphite and Kraft Dept. A newsprint mill without any of these, is like a man living on live support and we all know what the eventual outcome is. I had been filling in for Frank, my boss, and Dept Head as he went on vacation, for three years now, the mill turn-over was less than in former years, the economic boom subsided a great deal. Our life moved along, we enjoying all those wonderful things a man could do in and around town. "Our" lake was there, to be enjoyed by many, trails to be hiked, slopes at the Chalet to be skid on, and goats for the hardy ones up on almost the top of the surrounding mountains and deer also for all who wanted one. Salmon and many other creatures of the saltwater, to be had by all who wanted them, it sounds almost like being in paradise. At the same time, the economic base weakened imperceptibly, few would see it or even believe it. Most denying it.
Our daughter came into this world on May 15. 63. A beautiful girl, good and everything parents can wish and hope for. How lucky and blessed we were and are!

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Years of change.
Frank Robertson became Industrial Rel. Supervisor upon Ernie Cummings' transfer to Elk Falls, I was moved into his former position, K. Andersen retired and Al Tiemens kept an eye over the Kraft with Ed Prosser being the day boss. Many were destined to go to Elk Falls and start up and run the new #4 there. I try to remember some of them: Art Braun, Corky Kuersteiner, Danny Stefanyschin, Mel Ost, Hank Schulte, Dick Buitendyk, these all being papermakers plus many maintenance personnel also.

The original groundwood mill was to be replaced with a more modern one. To house the construction crew a new building was erected on Nevin Avenue. The original mill bridge was replaced with a new one, a new steam and power boiler built also to replace two old ones. A new steel flume was erected, the wooden one failed too often and the mill could not depend on its continuity. The chipper-mill also was idled, with the start up of the newly install whole-log chipper, also a conveyor to carry the chips all the way to the existing conveyor at the chipper mill was necessary. In spite of all this replacement and renewal some uneasiness persisted with some people, I remember well, hearing our CEO at a service award's dinner, stating, that it is as with an elderly lady, over the years a little bit too much here, a little too much there, no harm done, just looking better and younger, why would all them millions be spent if the company would not see a future in it. It may have been an honest statement as management saw it, and they certainly spent millions to realize this project. But there was no more paper being loaded onto the boats and barges then before, hourly pay-rates increased with almost every new contract and these contracts became harder and harder to be signed. There also were many outside forces, many beyond the control, of union or company, they all and it all brought the knife closer to the skin.

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What is next?
Industry rumor had it, that Crown was investigating the feasibility of a pulp mill at Bella Coola, also a possible one at Vernon. In the Interior they owned a good chuck of forest land, Bella Coola would have saltwater access for shipping, but to get clear, good water of low turbidity would require additional investments. I put my name forward and let Crown know, that I would be interested in a relocation to one of these mills, should they be realized. As we all know now, they were never built, could not be justified as an investment, also the province seemed to have come to the conclusion, that there was only that much forest land left, markets were flooded, a new mill Skookumchuk one more in Gold River, Harmac expanded, Eurocan in Kitimat was on the drawing boards also, a real flood of new producers. I had hardly "inherited" the Sulphite mill, when I was asked by Al Thiemens to take charge of the Kraft dept. also. Now I seemed to have my hands full, there was much to be learned. This situation lasted about two years when an announcement was made, that the Sulphite would be shut down and the Kraft mill also a few months later. Talking of a shock......Government and Company did their best to find jobs mostly in other mills also with the relocation costs and all arrangements. Most found work in the pulp industry, others preferred not to be with pulp and paper any longer. The population of Ocean Falls shrank dramatically, no dentist for some periods, down to one medical doctor, the school had too few students and the administration remained being too large for only one half the student body. Plus all them side effects, none of it being beneficial, almost like a man, having both legs and one arm amputated, has too large a heart and belly for what it has to serve. The two newsprint machines built in 1917 kept running and a new grinder-room to make mechanical pulp were key items left and there was all the hope in them to keep the mill going and keep above water.

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My years following the Sulphite and Kraft phase-out.
Firstly we were occupied with the clean-up and removal of all traces of chemicals from these two mills, classifiers to be cleaned and neutralized, everybody was for the first time in years working dayshift, no night-work, this also allowed people to be released as new jobs for them became available, by the time the clean-up was at the end, everybody had a job somewhere. I myself took some vacation, which I had due for some time, later was sent to the Elk-Falls groundwood mill for training, with a follow-up at the Port-Alberni mill and a visit to the ground-wood mill at Powell River. Returning to Ocean Falls, more training under the hand of Alex Gramberg, who was soon after transferred in the same position to Elk Falls. After four years as G/W Supt. I was offered the position of Kraft mill Supt. at Elk Falls, Campbell River. Initially I hesitated, but my wife and family felt it would be good to go outside and perhaps enjoy some of the amenities offered out there. For me it meant many months of long hours of work, the day never seemed to end for me at the mill. I was responsible for a much larger area, much more equipment then the whole mill in total combined had at Ocean Fall, the production was also accordingly larger as a matter of fact the seven fold. Time brought more familiarity, one could feel and see it was a much healthier operation from an economic point of view. After 16 more years I retired with just under 40 years in pulp and paper. This being at the year end of 1987.

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And the demise came.
Late in 1971 the shut-down of the Ocean Falls mill was announced. With much financial help of the BC taxpayer it was kept running a few years more under the new name of THE OCEAN FALLS CORPORATION. Interestingly, between the announced shut-down and actual take-over of the latter, a totally unforeseen paper shortage developed, with a newsprint price 100 % over the one only a few months before, much of the pressure from the buyer in respect to quality disappeared practically over night, this was good for the new Ocean Falls Corp. but it did not last. The market normalized and powers to be, could not afford to invest millions of dollars with no prospect of ever breaking anywhere near even. I remember reading all the writings in the daily papers, a reporter would go, probably fly into Ocean Falls, talk to some people willing to talk and where else but the Legion would one have an instant audience, again and again one would read the same people being interviewed and making statements the press loved and it filled the papers. Naturally these people were mostly much removed from the action and could not give a factual report. The lesson is, do not ever put too much faith into this fly-in reporters or people who are so eager to see their name in a wide-circulation paper.

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Of boats we owned.
The first boat we bought was a second , third, fourth and fifth-hand 12 ft. clinker built one with an old 5 HP Johnson, with gas tank built on top, one can say integrated. We bought it from Ed Stadler with another friend, this was not so convenient after I had a family, my partner Teo Waltenspuehl bought me out, I bought the second one, again a clinker built one, it was so brand new, one could still smell the paint. This one we equipped with a 5 ½ HP Johnson, equipped with a Milemaster tank. All these clinker boats had a good reputation for being good seaworthy boats. I remember well, how often we would be out on the lake and pulling a gang-troll, Elizabeth my wife sitting there, enjoying the scenery, keeping an eye on kids and baby-buggy, which we placed cross-way in the middle of the boat. Getting hung up with the lure was not uncommon, losing a lure, gang troll was always a pain, after all when one goes out and wants some diversion and getting hung up and many a times lost it, it always was 1.80 dollars for the troll plus other hardware which might go with it, after all my hourly pay was $1.42hr. One wanted always be on look-out for them submerged stumps, over the years we learned where many of the stumps were. Elisabeth would nurse the babies, whenever they let it known. Nursing was very uncommon, certainly not the norm to feed a baby, it just was done in Canada beyond the first few days and many mothers never did it at all. When in the hospital with the first-born Eric, she was the only one of the three mothers in the maternity ward nursing her infant, one of the new mothers even smoked within one hour of giving birth, yes right in the bed in the maternity room. Now, who says the world has not changed for the better! We never caught a good sized trout with that boat, we were pretty green at it and slow learners. We had no locker to keep the gear, would leave it all in the boat and it was safe. In the off-season the boat came home and was sheltered.

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A beautiful boat our third one.
It was again a clinker boat, brand new in 1958. Now, such a beautiful boat deserved a fitting name. I had previously read a book on Marco Polo, the Venetian traveler who in the late 13th century went overland to China and returned the water-way some 20 years later. I was so fascinated by his story, of the things he had seen, that our boat certainly deserved a good name, as our boat not only served for fishing and camping, we wanted to explore every little bay on the lake, it served us well.
For one season we moved it to the chuck, too bad for this lovely boat, it was now in the open, no boat-house for shelter. On two trips it took us to Ellerslie lake, one had to have the right tide to get into the lagoon. The lake was discharging its water over rock-rim, much like Link lake did prior to the dam. An absolutely pleasurable sight. On a second trip to Ellerslie we hit rough water on the home journey, it was so choppy, we had to keep away from the shore to be clear of any possible submerged rock. We had life preserves in the boat, but not wearing them, with our eyes pointed our way down Spiller-Channel and white-caps everywhere, we missed the channel which would bring us in the right direction. I could not let go of the tiller to get my life-jacket on, Elisabeth was lying flat on the boat bottom for low centre of gravity and I had to turn back, turning 180 degrees and life threatening waves everywhere. I found the side passage which I had earlier missed and entered into calmer waters much relieved both of us. The lesson is: Wear your life preserver!

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Marco Polo brings us to Kimsquit.
Gregory and I wanted to see Dean Channel all the way to the end. Visiting places like Eucott hot springs, Nascall hot springs with a dip in the wooden tub, a small shelter was built there in the forties to serve as weather station, Crown Z was toiling with the idea of power to be developed from this site. At the saltwater, near the water coming from the Nascall lake chain, there is a hot spring and cold water spring only some 20 feet separating them, the water of both is piped into the tub inside this shelter, one can sit in this wonderful thermal spa, viewing the near-by Dean and Labouchiere Channel, watching the marine traffic to Bella Coola and up to Kimsquit at the same time. It was a three day trip, with two outboards for safety. At the Dean we had a look at the recently built bridge across, it was about one mile up from saltwater. We did not do any fishing, just exploring, seeing new sights. One day on crossing the bridge, Gregory who was around nine at the time, had a black bear coming onto the bridge also. Gregory was at this time half-way across and did not want to run and have the bear in his back, both the bear and Gregory kept to the side along the bull-rail, they passed and that was it. I saw it from the distance, it seemed to me the bear just ignored him, was I irresponsible as a parent?

Percy Gadsden, father of Roy Gadsden built, constructed a trail along the Dean river around 1920 to one of his mining claims on Tesla mountain, he told me about earlier, so we also wanted to walk in the steps of Percy 35 or 40 years later. The sky was clear all these days, returning home with new memories.

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Sagar Lake.
Sagar lake had a certain ring in my mind, boaters were recounting their good times out there. I was several years in the Falls, had never seen it yet. This was to change. On one of them nice and calm summer days all my family or almost all, headed in that direction, the lake can be accessed via a lagoon, a duplicate of the one at Ellerslie, again depending on the tide, the water rushes in or out through the narrows. People called it a Skookum-fall. To get to the freshwater lake, one took the trail which was about 20 or 30 minutes walk. A good sized beach was at the near end. The sand being rather coarse, so as to almost hurt the bare feet. Good for a camp-fire and a quite time. Good swimming temperature in mid-summer. We were the only visitors that day. The lagoon is of about one mile in length with an island in the centre, the water has a deep black colour and was not inviting.

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A hunting trip to Kwatna inlet.
Kwatna lies on the mainland side of Burke Channel about half way between Namu and Bella Coola. Otto Krafczyk and I chose this for one of his hunting trips. It were grizzlies he had on his mind and Kwatna was well known for it's grizzlies, anybody recalling Clayton Mack?

I Met Clayton when in Kwatna, he had an American customer, no grizzlies though.  This was his favorite area. We gassed up Otto's boat, 160 gal. of it and headed down Namu way into Burke, about ten miles up we hit rough water, terribly rough, slowed down and the plaining hull designed boat sunk almost two feet deeper into the water, the waves literally threw us from wall to wall inside the boat, the waves hit us side-ways. Some water entered through the vent over the bunk in the bow, I was bailing water on my knees, with all this bashing around Otto lost his contact lens, his view became more blurred and I was supposed to find his lens floating around in the bilge water. We were in an absolutely dangerous situation, the boat was of 25 foot length, but them waves must have been every bit of six feet bashing the boat on the side. You all will appreciate how fast a man can bail when water enters the boat almost faster then it can be bailed out.

On the second day out we encountered what we took for a grown black bear, a few seconds later a second one came out of the Slough, a few more seconds a there was a large grizzly sow. these two were her last years cups. Here was the grizzly Otto was dreaming for years, with grown cubs, they will be on their own soon in any case. Two men, with two loaded guns, only 50 - 70 feet distance... what are you waiting for? No shot, no aiming for the large bear... some ten seconds later the cubs hurried into the bush and the mother followed. I myself did not want it or any bear, but Otto the German hunter, he had a license and this was his chance. Many years later he recounted to me about him not getting that grizzly, it cost him later some lost sleep. Lesson: Sometimes we have only one chance. We had insufficient gas to go home, had to go up to Bella Coola and top the tanks off. No game, but still alive! A good trip home in calm waters.

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A trip to the head of Roscoe Inlet.
Seeing goats and hiking in goat country always drew me, I really do not know why, I guess it was the height of the land, looking down from up high, the emptiness, the stillness, certainly the beauty of the land all around. The hearsay had it, that Roscoe had goats, not from people who ever saw one, or did anybody try to " lead" me on? Also there were flocks of geese just waiting I guess for hunters. We made ourselves prepared for a two-day trip in mid October, goat and deer season being open. As soon as we entered the inlet, we slowed to a slow speed, looking up all the mountains for possible signs, glassing for goats all along. Mid to late afternoon we reached Roscoe River, which discharges from the left very near the top end of the inlet. As we neared the right hand shore of the river, several geese let us know about their presence and waved good bye. We decided to tie the Marco Polo for the night to two logs near the shore, this way we could leave and go onto the boat quite readily. The river being about one half of the size of Braden river, the one which discharges into the head of Link lake. The bow of the boat was turned down-river, so we could perhaps in the early hours of the morning float down and not disturb any wild-life. Rain came early in the evening. Not rain, no, downpour by the bucket, as heavy as ever seen at Ocean Falls. The river surface turned into waves, but the we felt protected by the six or eight foot bank. The wind, call it storm blew right over us, that felt comforting. We bedded down and must quickly have fallen asleep. Around two in the morning I felt I had wet feet. I I got the flash light quick, and my god, that river was a torrent, the waves hitting the transom and lapping water into the boat. A decision had to made instantly. I stupidly, should have had the bow into the water and not the transom, too late now, no time to be lost. I cut the rear shore-line, the boat swung around with force, driven by the current, the resulting jerk on the bow-rope broke the rope and we were adrift down-river at two in the morning in the wettest night. It was as pitch-black, as it was inside a cow. After a few seconds free floating, we hit something, something scratching and jerking. At least we came to a halt, the river was here wider being in the estuary. Investigating our predicament with a flashlight showed we were hung up in a tree with all the branches on, this tree touching river-bottom. The little aux. motor a seagull pus 40 had been totally submerged, the 40 HP Johnson to within one or two inches of the top.

Yes we had things to think about tomorrow, but first the boat needed to be bailed out and a dry spot found for sleeping, the sleeping bags had to be rung out, we had sufficient spare dry clothing for a change. Day light came, the storm had abated. The very first job to do, before extricating us from that life saving tree, was to get an engine running. We were successful with the seagull fairly quickly. Did that feel good! The Johnson fired up fairly readily. I guess the reason was the engines were not running and sucking in water at the time.

Rain and low cloud-ceiling prevented us from doing any exploring, actually we were grateful to be alive, returning home on the second day. The moral is: Tie the boat into the current and not the blunt transom side. No help whatsoever would have been near, as we were about 80 km from anyplace, where a passing boat could be seen.

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Was that ever wet and cold in a open boat, all soaked to the bones.
It was on an October evening after work, nice clear day it was. Elisabeth, my wife, and I felt it would be ideal to go to the lake and spy for goats as they like to feed in the open rock areas before bedding down. We had also an aluminum 11 footer with an 18 Johnson, a fast flying boat, day-light was at a premium in mid-October, we arrived on our preferred area, the lake was a little choppy, not bad, but just the same, too much motion to observe any game almost on top of the mountains, OK, we must go onto the shore for steady viewing, I stepped onto the steep and boulder covered shore, Elisabeth followed me immediately, the boat got so unbalanced with her stepping out, that it moved away from the shore and she fell neck-deep into the lake. My first concern was her getting something a little dryer on her body, at least from the waist up, it would be a long way home in an open boat in October at seven in the evening. Off came much of my clothing, shirt, pullover and that was about it, we squeezed her pants a little, removed the shoes and dumped the little water there was inside, quickly put my top on her body-top, had her lying down flat in the boat to be out of the cold wind, with me holding the tiller and going full open with nothing on my upper body, but being dry turned out to be quite endurable, a fast gallop from boat-house over all them floats to Ball-park and run home almost warmed us up a little. Went back two weeks later and got a goat. In order to get a goat, one may not only get very tired, one can also get pretty wet.

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A hunting trip to Kimsquit.
The rumor had it that goats on the Kimsquit mountains were easy to get. A trip was arranged by Otto Tancon with Emilio Clozza on his large boat, Cloya. A diesel powered craft of well over 30 ft, displacement type hull. This made for a safe and calm ride, a pleasurable trip of about nine hours. We anchored in the bay and used a small boat to ferry us to shore. We glassed the area over, did not spot any sign of goats, planned the route to be taken the next day. There was four of us hunting, Otto, Frank Inglin, Otto Freiburghaus and myself. Emilio followed our two party routes, two hunters to each with his glasses from the boat. My party met no goat signs, the other got itself one goat each man. On the second day with an overnight stay on the mountain, several animals were spotted, but inaccessible to reach. It became obvious that we did not have sufficient knowledge of the area, of how to get ourselves to were the goats were and could be reached if killed. More scouting around was needed, but then we had a total of seven days available, two for traveling, five for hunting. Rain fell the following day and the following one and the next being our fifth day and heavy clouds enclosed any view. Some consulting was in order, yes we all came for a goat, two had one each, two had none. No long convincing was needed, we wanted to move and headed for the Eucott spring area, there would be shelter and good anchorage for the Cloya.
A full days hunting in the wet bush yielded me one deer. Next day was our seventh day and we came home a little wiser perhaps.

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More trips to our better known, beloved mountains around Ocean Falls.
One hike we made, Greg and I to the mountains near the hot spring, an overnight trip in good early fall weather. This mountain range separates the head of the lake and Braden river from Cascade inlet. It took us most of the day to reach the top, there one could look down straight into Cascade inlet, so near, even closer than the lake on account of it's very steep slopes. The wind was blowing very strong right on the ridge, away from it, total calm it was. We again glassed the hills in the late evening sun, looked for a depression in the heather-covered rock to shelter us over night, should it blow. On such trips as on all we made, no sleeping bag or anything like it was ever part of our gear. One always could have a warmer and softer bed when at home. A frost was always the normal temp. in the early morning at these elevations, woolen socks and a heavy woolen sweater and woolen head covering was all we had, we never suffered any ill-effects from cold and shivering at any of the many trips, one knows on the outset of such a trip, that cold could be some discomfort, we also learned that staying on top in good weather was always to be preferred than further down were shade and dampness reigned even on daytime. On the second day we walked on slopes facing the lake and Braden river for several hours, seeing several quarries of ptarmigans, one goat across a deep impassable canyon which I photographed, no trees nowhere up here, not even low shrub type plants, easy going for hours. One more night under the stars and beautiful it was. Up early the following morning to shake the cold out of our bodies we made good time before giving us the pleasure of some food in the belly. We made good time, it was all more or less a descending trip from now on, took in many more of these fantastically beautiful sights all around, reached the boat in time to be home by nightfall.

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A scouting trip with Otto, son Fred, Eric my son and I.

Destination, the left hand side of the lake-head.
Good weather was forecast, a three day trip was our plan, it was late July or early August. One day's hiking would bring us up, one day to scout the top and enjoy the views and descend on the third day. This mountain range is not quite as high as the one on the opposite side where Gregory and were one year earlier, we had lots of heather to make for a softer resting and sleeping area, it were also some of the warmest summer-days and being so close to the longest day of the year always meant long days, shorter nights, less time for the earth to cool down when one considers 16 hrs of one against 8 hours of the other. This was a very enjoyable trip, no gun to carry which certainly is a big advantage, binoculars and camera and plenty of food are all the weighty items to be taken along. We still look at the pictures made on this trip once in a while, good memories and joy welling up in the heart. I thing every boy and even girl should have the chance to enjoy such an outing, kids are in their developing years and will retain such an experience a life-time.

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Fish creek to camp twenty on land.
Much new "country" waited to be explored, at least for us, not native of Ocean Falls. The plan was, Otto's son Fred would drop us off at fish-creek and pick us up one day later, somewhere on the shores of camp twenty. The route would bring us on the mountain behind and over Eddie Seltzers camp, over and behind half-way slide in the direction of the mountains in the hot-spring area. The first part till nearly half-way slide, was rough and very dense with brush, slow going for hours, not very enjoyable. As we got closer to the half-way area, the mountains increased very much in height, we came out of the brush at these elevations and also camped for the night around there. We always kept the eyes open for some unusual rocks on any of these hi-county trips, where rock is exposed to the surface, never found or saw any but just common rock to be seen anywhere around Ocean Falls, Towards the end of the second day the lake shore was reached, Fred was there as agreed to take us home. It being one more trip to be added to our library called memory.

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This my last to be written on subjects ending in 1971 and of my time in Ocean Falls.
At the time of my transfer to Campbell River I sold our cherished Marco Polo, the boat we loved, the boat of untold hours of good times by my whole family. The buyer, Jan Skorupa and family of two daughters and two sons all being in their teens, most born in OF with all their schooling also there, bought their first boat in their life, not only the boat, the whole works, boat, boat-house, the aux. motor my beloved seagull 40 plus, gas barrel and all. The whole family took such an interest in boat and lake, that they also, not only took good care of the boat, it opened a new window in their life, a window never dreamed of before. Was it perhaps the boat and name which caused all this new found inspiration? Ocean Falls really opened up for this family, there was more life to it outside ball-games watching on the ball-park. Several years later Teresa the eldest daughter and my eldest son Eric found their love to each other for life and became a married couple. I wonder sometimes, was it perhaps our beloved Marco Polo which rubbed some of our affection off?

What about a post mortem?
I have written some of my experiences and also feelings I was privileged to enjoy, but we should not just let a town die without looking deeper into the causes which lead to the eventual demise. There are smarter people out there than I, people with more years in Ocean Falls, people with a much better command of the English language, their native tongue and mostly only tongue. There were people with an excellent memory like Morley Patterson and others, many of them now parted from us, but a few are still out there among the living. This is a wake-up call for all. Do it before it becomes impossible. Thank you.

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In spring of 1999 l had the good fortune for a revisit to Ocean Falls.

Our children presented us with tickets and accommodation arranged and boats reserved for ours use, they did this on the occasion of my 75th birthday. We left Port Hardy on the B.C. Ferry, leaving about noon. There were seven of us, Eric and wife Teresa (Skorupka), her mother and step-father, Gregory our second son (1954), and Elisabeth my wife and I. Our landcruiser was also along, loaded with every thing needed and much more. The rental of a house was arranged before, for one full week for all of us. Arrival in Ocean Falls was two hours late due some long delay at Bella Bella, it was around 2.00 am. of May 17. Our host was waiting at the dock and it seemed everybody living there, boat day as in former times is an event. Since it was dark we really had no opportunity to take in the wonderful view which always presents itself to anybody coming the water-way. The dock area is still well lit, but the town away from the water, being practically empty and gone to a great extent is dark. Our host guided us to our residence for next seven days to be, by the time all our belongings were packed up the many steps on Garden Drive, the first day-light of a new day, our first day back after 28 years, it did not seem that long to us, but much had changed in the meantime, as we were to witness in the next few days.
We were tired and exited at the same time, this was premium time, we did not come to sleep and started to pack a lunch for our first days reconnaissance. Three of us to twin-lakes and shack-bay, the others on foot to points close by. The dam on the lower lake was supposed to have been removed but I would say 70 % of its former height is remaining, much alder enclosing the new, lower shoreline. Tried to fish, no bites. Drove on, on the "new" road, constructed since my time up there, to somewhere a bit beyond the first lake, we came to a stop, as too many alders and larger trees obstructed the road. Walked the rest of the way until we arrived at road's end, above and near salt-water at shack-bay. The tide was very low, exposing a large sandy beach, with thousands of signs, of clam-shell-fish country. No human activity far and wide. After a good hour or two, it was time to turn back, it was a warm day, reached Martin Valley again by late evening, this first day was a 14 hrs day, A delicious supper waited for us and ruminating the days news over a fortified drink and already it was late bed-time.

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Second day.
A nice day and to Link lake we go, all seven of us, two boats were almost ready to take us out onto familiar water. Three in one boat and four in the other and a small pet, Malti-poo (dog) in each. Our boat for the longest time had no success in even getting one bite, trolling along the familiar shore we knew se well. On catching up with the other boat, we learned that they did much better at fishing, told us how the caught them, it were Richard and Gienia who caught fish and probably Teresa too, Eric was at the tiller, all theirs were cut still-fishing. Near fish-creek a camp-fire was made, Wieners roasted, coffee made and a good time by all recollecting old times. Greg and I hiked into fish-creek valley, recently logged again, the only road we found de-activated in the most terrible manner, practically impossible to go anywhere on it, tried the river for fish, no luck, where had all them thousands and thousands of fish gone?
Some more scouting around the lake at familiar sights, revealed to us several goats, some quite close. A bit more fishing at the head and this was the end of the second day.

Third day.
Again on the lake, a little fishing and glassing for goats revealed 23 in a relatively short time, some more reconnoitering at the recently logged area, on the left shore at the head came to a stop, when walking in snow nearly knee-deep, we wore rubber-boots, but the snow was soft and every step meant a boot full of snow. and this was May 19 th. Time to turn back, several more goats were observed, two nannies with their kids, always an enjoyable sight. A little more fishing and we all had our limits, guess what? It is again link-lake trout for supper.

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Fourth day.
A hike up the Martin River was our plan this day. The old sand bar can not be seen any longer, beavers built dams and flooded the area, it is unrecognizable today. The trail beyond is almost gone, I guess this is due to almost no people ever using now, this applies also to the lost lake trail, which is impassable now, even if one can find it. The second half of the day was spent at the cemetery, where also Otto my hunting and exploring partner of years back lies as well as Jan, Teresa's father. Gienia and Elisabeth had been weeding the grave-sides the previous day, also replanted them. Greg and I reading names of many we knew and many who lived and died there before our times.

Fifth day.
Had a mill-site visit after prior arrangements made the day before. Much has been demolished and cleared away. Several men doing prep-work for roof-renewal. Whatever was left, much area was heated (thanks excess water power) things looked orderly and clean and all left a good impression on us all. The turbines in the power-house, of which two ran, two shut down on account of no market for all the electrical potential. All clean here and painted as it always was. No around the clock operator, one person will do a daily check once a day. Water is spilling continuously over the crest of the dam, every day-long, each day of the year. Ocean Falls wants to attract a big power user, no luck so far.

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Sixth day.
Walked around town and spoke to ever we met, some kids who do not attend any school, who do not know what to do with themselves, actually pretty sad, what does the future hold for them? Entered the former managers house, yes it has three or even four bathrooms, much destroyed inside, some hippies must lived there for a time, some old mattresses on the floor in the former parlour-room, no water, much of the plumbing smashed and either removed or broken. A walk once more in the valley. Many unused motor vehicles, four wheel drives, ATV old boats and generally not impressive sight anywhere, the section across the Martin River being better and quite good as has been at one time. Some residents there put much work and money into their newly acquired homes, hats off to them.

Seventh and final day.
Boat to arrive around 11.00 pm and departing soon after midnight. Happiness and sadness both enclosed us all. For us, much of it was still intact, the beautiful outdoors we all enjoyed always, the fishing in the lake is better than I ever remembered (well there is almost nobody fishing that lake now)
the game on the hills are still there in full numbers for the people who want to see and observe them. The salt-chuck they tell me produces many fish and esp. halibut. For people who enjoyed little outdoor activity in their time at OF, there is much sadness and little else to see, the one remaining wood plank road, fifth street from the school up the hill is barricaded off, being unsafe with many broken planks. The road through the rock-cut to the ball park is ruined and the ball-park is ruined, I guess the logging equipment did it when trucking the logs out from the lake. A large corroding log-loader is partly beached to the ball park from the lake. A large landing-craft type barge, made from the old steel flume, which carried the wood blocks from the sawmill to the ground wood mill, removed and cleverly welded into a large capacity logging equipment carrier is also beached near by. A calm sea all the way to Port Hardy prevailed, arriving around noon.

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Some historical facts.

In my first years at Ocean Falls, there was no road to Twin lakes what later became known as the Twin-Lakes Rd. There was a trail established which started right from the Martin river and followed fairly close along the lower slope of the mountain to the lakes. It joined with a trail which also lead to the lakes from the chuck to the lakes. The latter one was well used, but is now as per my last visit two years ago totally overgrown and can no longer be located. The Martin Valley subdivision was built, starting with clearing in 1951 and construction of the first contractor built homes in 1952. As a matter of fact, the area and valley was referred to with "the farm valley". Some remains of buildings from the old farm site where still there at that time. There also was a foot bridge close to where the present bridge crosses the Martin river and this bridge led the the trail head of the above mentioned trail to the Twin Lakes. The sub division across was only built a few years later. This brings me now to the question, what was it built on, what kind of ground or foundation. The entire area where all the homes were built, is on ground which lay undisturbed for eons, thousands and thousands of years. The present road leading to the Twin Lakes was constructed in the period after the initial houses were built on the Caro Marion side of the river and prior the the time where across the river house construction started. This road access gave especially the Martin valley residents an extra easy accessible recreational outlet. A new bridge across the Martin River was built prior to the residential construction across the river and that bridge was "lost" after my time at Ocean Falls and replaced with a Bailey type bridge still there. Also a bridge was constructed over the water-course, where the present Twin-lake road bridge is, it is this bridge which was washed out and pushed into the salt-chuck with the slide around 1956 - 57. Eddie Seltzer cleared all the debris with an Insley type steam-shovel over a period of several days. It is this new bridge I enclosed a picture of and at the time of my visit two years ago, said bridge was still much the way it was when built thirty and some years ago.

Reprinted With Permission

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Photograph taken Summer of '08

Elizabeth Strebel 82 - Paul Strebel 84