The Squamidian Report – Sept. 11 / 04
For the ‘ON LINE’ version of this newsletter, go to:
http://www.members.shaw.ca/doug_b2/2004/sept11.htm
Also in this issue:
Lorne Recalls Peppler St
The Ontarion
Hi All,
Well, I said I’d write about our dirt bike ride up Brohm Ridge if I saw anything that caught my attention. I didn’t see anything because I couldn’t see anything. The lower section of our ride was through dense dark rain forest with massive moss covered trees. By the time we were half way up the mountain we had ridden into the cloud layer and from then on visibility was never more than 40 feet or so, sometimes much less.
So perhaps I should start at the beginning. Warren had visited his daughter up in Prince George a couple of weeks ago and brought back a pair of old clunker dirt bikes. Probably good machines for us to re-learn our off road motorcycling skills as we will be as hard on them as they will be on us. We decided that a ride up the logging roads onto Brohm Ridge would be a great way to kick off our new hobby.
The day was damp with a thick cloud overcast but what the heck! The jump off point for the Ridge is the Cat Lake Rd, where we unloaded the bikes and headed out. From the beginning we were climbing steadily up hill. Saw a coyote. He looked at us rather disapprovingly. Stirred up lots of grouse too. The rough road climbed through the dense forest that I mentioned. You could get lost in that stuff simply by stepping off the trail. Actually, that happens to hikers all the time around here.
These old logging roads work their way up the mountainsides by cutting across the slopes, rather like a sailboat tacking into the wind. You simply could not head straight up, the slope angles are unbelievable. That means that there is a high side and a low side to the road. The high side is often notched into the mountain while the low side drops off for long dizzy distances. The route we took brought us to an area where the old road was an eroded mix of large loose rocks and stony gullies. This was our first real challenge. I was taking it a bit too slow trying to work my way carefully through this obstacle course and nearly lost it as I bounced off each rock. My feet and legs were flailing in every direction as I tried to hold onto the bike by clenching my butt checks around the seat. Eventually we figured out that it was better to ride faster over these areas. That way the bikes would bounce over the rocks instead of off the rocks.
At the top end of this area we drove into the bottom of the cloud layer. From then on we could barely see each other. In fact, at one point I had to shut off my bike and listen for the sound of Warren’s engine so I could tell which fork in the road he had taken. The road continued to be made of loose rocks, gravel and boulders all the way on up. And it continued to climb at a very steep angle, using switchbacks to work it’s way up. Because of the cloud fog, all we could see over the lowers side of the road would be the occasional ghost of a treetop, or nothing. We could tell we were finally at the top when we could see nothing in any direction. The Ridge is an arm of Garibaldi Mt and stretches for quite a way with steep rolling slopes covered with mountain heather, sand bowls where the wind has carved its way through and stunted weathered trees. It extends out from the western side of Garibaldi, whose rocky peak climbs on up for several more thousand feet. We found some hikers as they emerged out of the fog. They were trying to work their way over toward the peak area but were a bit turned around. They did have a topo map and compass. We pointed them in the right direction and then found a sheltered spot in the lea of a clump of trees and had a bite of lunch. According to my GPS unit, we were at about 5800 ft above sea level. Had it been clear out, we could have seen the sea from there (at least the Howe Sound part of it as well as parts of Vancouver Island on the other side of the Georgia Straight).
Because the cloud fog seemed to be getting even thicker we didn’t waist too much time before headed back down. Now it got a bit tricky. Riding up was a challenge. Trying to ride back down and stay under control demanded a whole new set of skills that we needed to learn, quickly. The best results came when we would stand on the foot pegs with our butts shoved back on the seat to move our center of gravity closer to the back wheel and off the front one. Then with the bike in low gear and gentle application of the rear brake we could slither and slide our way down. Just like in climbing up, we found that it was better to go a bit faster than trying to go carefully. Faster would again let you bounce over things rather that bounce off things. There is a difference, believe me. The trick here was to go that bit faster but not let it get out of control, stopping would become impossible.
Just about the same time as we got back down into the lower forested areas where the road was in much better shape and the slopes were gentler, the overcast started to break up and the sun poked out. So when we got back to where Warren’s truck was parked we loaded up the bikes and took them back to his place where we headed up the Swift Creek logging road that is up behind where he lives. Had to do a small repair on the bike he was riding first. His road was de-commissioned a few years ago, meaning it was made unusable with many deep cross ditches to keep people from using it. There is even a section where the road was taken right out and there is just the mountain slope left. That was fun to cross. We had to turn back when we came to a slide area that was a mass of rocks and logs. With a little work we should be able to clear a way through but the day was getting late and we were tired. Or at least I was. By then I could feel every old joint and muscle I had. Now that’s living.
So that was last Saturday. We went for a totally different ride on the holiday Monday. The High Falls Creek logging road is at about mile 26 or so up the Upper Squamish Valley Rd. While the grades are just as steep as on the Brohm roads, the surfaces are in much better shape. We followed the main spur as well as several side spurs. Several of these gave us rather breath taking views out over the Upper Squamish Valley as we looked steeply down from rather high ridges. Others took up deep into the mountain terrain up in behind Cloud Burst Mountain. We stopped for a while on an old log bridge that crossed a stream that was tumbling down from somewhere up above and falling on down into the valley below. There was one spur we followed that wound it’s way along one side of a deep canyon. On the other side was a wall of crystallized lava that had to be 80 feet high or more. There were even rock spires further up that we could see but couldn’t get to. Something else that is really neat to look at is a field of rough boulders that has crumbled down a mountainside. I think they are called screa fields or slopes, not sure of the spelling. They tend to lie at a very steep angle and look frozen in time and space. Lots of them around here, but when the narrow trail you are following cuts right through one you have to wonder how stable it is.
There are thousands of miles of logging roads around here, some in use, most not. Exploring them could keep us busy for a long time. Should be fun.
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28
Peppler St., Waterloo
The year is 1933. It is a notable change from living in Bridgeport. It was a move from a village to a town; a town where the school was quite new and modern. The school was named after a prominent local teacher, Elizabeth Zeigler, and located on Moore St. in Waterloo. I even remember the name of the principal, Mr. Macgregor. Just the sound of his name will create an image of his appearance and disposition – zero tolerance. That winter, 1933-34, was extremely cold with temperatures in the low to mid negative 30F. Walking the mile to and from school is something I’ve never forgotten – that bitter cold!
I remember too how on Silver Lake in Waterloo Park ice would be harvested and we would watch them cut large cubes with saws by hand. They would be fished out of the water with large iron claws and loaded on horse drawn sleighs and taken to ice houses where they would be stored for commercial and domestic deliveries. Large amounts of sawdust were packed around the ice as insulation.
It was common practice in those days on Fridays for men to go around neighbourhoods selling fish from 2-wheeled carts pulled by horses. They were called fish mongers and would announce their presence by blowing on horns as they came down the streets. In summer the fish were packed in ice to stay fresh. The housewives would come out and buy fish for the meal that day. The harvested ice was also delivered by horse drawn 2-wheel carts. In hot weather in the summer us kids would all rush out and get a little chip of ice to suck on. One Friday the kid down the street hollered at me and said “Here comes the ice cart – get some ice.” He didn’t tell me that it was actually the fish cart with the fish well packed in ice. I grabbed some ice. To the delight of the perpetrator I mistakenly began to suck on raw fish flavored ice.
That spring my youngest brother Wayne was born. My parents referred to him as the 1934 model. It was while we were living on Peppler that we came to know Willard Poll who started courting my aunt Edna. She eventually became Mrs. Willard Poll. Two children, Rosemary and Ross, were the results of that marriage (many years later).
Laurel creek, to the delight of us kids, flowed through the back end of our property. In the spring the Creek would flood. That would be our chance to launch the rafts that we would make out of scrap lumber and let the swift current give us a thrilling ride down stream as far as we dared to go. Dared to go was generally governed by the distance we cared to walk back. Beneath the bridges were large sewer pipes. The pipes went alone the route of the roads and were about 1 foot above the water when the creek was flooded. When our raft would come to one of these pipes us older and bigger kids could slow the raft down in order to climb over the pipe and return back onto the raft as it floated under the pipe. On one of these cruises younger brother Russell being smaller caught the pipe about mid stomach – raft of course kept going – he dangled above the current momentarily and then dropped into the water. Being small and light he floated with the current until we were able to jump ashore, run ahead and fish him out. As far as I know our parents never knew what happened and just gave us the daily scolding about coming home soaking wet. More mischief to tell about ahead upon our next move to the small community of Centerville in a future issue.
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THE ONTARION REPORT
SEPTEMBER
11, 2004
Hello everyone!
Here we are in the second week of September and the kids are back to school. It seems like only yesterday that they were suddenly out for the summer. At least our days of sending Adam back to class are over but seeing all the mothers and kids this past weekend in the malls brought it all back to us. I can remember my years of first days back at the books. Tuesday of this week was a rainy dull day and I remember having a few like that when I was in school as well. It’s not bad enough having to return to the classroom but Mother Nature has to give the kids an extra kick in the pants with lousy weather to walk in too! Oh well, how many of you remember walking five miles to school in snow up to your tush carrying 10 lbs of books day after day, not to mention that it was all uphill? At least the kids of today have sidewalks and less snow than when we were their age. Man, we had it rough didn’t we! LOL!
*
Has anyone noticed the over abundance of Crane Flies this year? We’ve got them by the hundreds! I was under the impression for some unknown reason that they were female mosquitoes.
My brother in law Alan made the comment that they were “Daddy Longlegs”. I disputed that and said that they were female mosquitoes and we bet each other a dollar on it. I proceeded to tell him that Daddy Longlegs were spiders with a small round body and long spindly legs. I said these “Mosquitoes” had wings and Daddy Longlegs do not! Finally a few days later I was on the computer and decided to check it out and earn myself a dollar. I entered “Daddy Longlegs” and hit the “enter” button. Well, did I get a surprise! Alan was right about the insects being called Daddy Longlegs. I really did think that the only insect called that was the wingless spider that we had all come to know as Daddy Longlegs when we were kids. The intranet said that there are several insects known as Daddy Longlegs and the Crane Fly is one of them. They even had a picture of the Crane Fly. They went on to say that many people mistakenly think of them as female mosquitoes. They said that in fact, female mosquitoes are the same size and shape as male mosquitoes and females are the ones that bite. In the end, I did receive some redemption from this site; it did say that the most popular “Daddy Longlegs” is the wingless version of Arachnid with the tiny round body and long spindly legs. I humbly admitted to Alan that I was mistaken about the identity of this insect and told him that I would pay up as soon as I had change enough to do so. I’m still waiting to break my 10 spot before paying. He’ll just have to be patient! LOL!
In reading about the Crane Fly, I found out that they are detrimental to your lawn. They lay eggs in the grass and in the Spring these eggs hatch into larvae that eat the roots of your lawn. In their infinite wisdom the government has approved use of an insecticide to destroy these herbivores BUT, only for use by golf courses. I guess they want these places in nice condition for their MP’s to enjoy when they play a couple of rounds a week on taxpayer’s money. To hell with the everyday taxpayer’s lawn! Well, I’ll just have to contact my buddy Clyde and see what useful chemical he has in his stash that will rid my lawn of this menace in the Spring. I’m sure we’ll come up with something by next year. I may just have to mount a few cans of Raid on the front of the lawnmower and devise a lever that will press all the buttons at the same time. You know what they say, “RAID Knocks ‘em DEAD”! It’s getting so one can’t even protect one’s own property anymore without getting in dutch with the environmental people. Tree huggers, sheesh!! What next? If this keeps up, I’ll just have to call the local blacktop company and have the yard paved! At least that way, I’d get loads of use out of the snow blower. Hahahahaaa…!
Well, that’s about it for this week folks. I look forward to talking to you again next time in THE ONTARION REPORT.
Bye for now…….GREG.
PS: Something to Think About>
Doctor: A man who tells you “If you don’t cut something out” he will.
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Have a good one..
the
doug