Here is something that happened in 1985 when I was working for the BC Forest Service:
In the first week of February, Ned a coworker, was supposed to accompany an entomologist from the Prince George Regional Office, to do a check on a Spruce Bark Beetle contract in the Upper Goat River. Ned was ill, so I ended up taking his place for the day.
I drove out to Fredrickson’s old mill site, near the Goat River, where it was arranged that I would meet Bob, the guy from Prince George, and the helicopter. After our introductions, we gathered our gear and snowshoes and we were flown out to the upper reaches of the Goat River where we were dropped off.
The snowshoeing was difficult. The terrain along the side slopes was steep, and because the snow was very crusty, it difficult to get a secure grip with the snowshoes.
After we had done the bark beetle check, we began our long hike back to our helicopter pick-up spot. We were snowshoeing in a direction above, and paralleling the river when we were confronted with a steep riverbank. The bank was free of trees, covered with snow, sloping sharply down to the river.
Bob and I began snowshoeing our way across slope about fifteen feet above the river. We got about halfway across when Bob’s snowshoe lost its grip, which sent Bob careening down the steep slope to the river. When he hit the river, Bob’s snowshoes crashed through the snow-covered, thin ice.
Fortunately the river was not very deep at that spot, but still Bob had to struggle to extricate himself out of the cold water. As he lifted one leg out of the water, his snowshoes caught on the ice, and came off. The swiftly flowing current, whisked the snowshoe, under the ice.
Once I had made my way down to the river to help, we both made sweeps of our arms in the frigid water under the ice, hoping to locate the missing snowshoe, but it was long gone.
It was a dilemma; we both had cold, wet, pants and boots, and Bob only had one snowshoe. We made our way out of the water, and struggled along the bank until we got to friendlier ground. We then continued our long trek toward the helicopter pickup site.
Bob had a difficult time trying to walk wearing just the one snowshoe. It was awkward and very frustrating. He eventually took off the snowshoe and carried it. But trying to proceed across the crusty snow with just his soggy boots was also frustrating.
Walking through deep crusty snow without snowshoes is maddening, because on some steps the crust would hold and your foot would only sink an inch, while maybe on the next step, the crust would break, causing your foot to sink 10 inches into the snow.
We eased that problem somewhat by me snowshoeing a path ahead of him, compressing a snowshoe trail through the deep snow, and Bob following in the snowshoe tracks I had made.
It was slow going, but eventually we made it back to the helicopter pick-up site and after a wait, we were overjoyed to finally hear the chop of the rotors in the distance. It was wonderful to be able to sit down in the warm helicopter and watch the mountains go by as we were flown back to our pickups.
The day was a memorable one for both of us, especially Bob. I am sure the incident spiced up a lot of the tales he told to friends about his forestry adventures.
View my paintings at: davidmarchant2.ca
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