Don does one of his typical balancing acts on inadequate scaffolding (a plastic can on top a wobbly table saw stand).  This time he is using a chain saw, about as dangerous as it gets.  He was lucky throughout the entire project and never had a fall from one of these stupid balancing acts, more lucky than smart it seems in retrospect.

Don and Jerome install 5/8” thick OSB board over the rafters as support underlayment for the green steel roof.  The underside will be varnished to provide a natural wood look inside the cabin.  It had taken two weeks of difficult effort to flatten the rafters which had managed to develop a 20 degree twist since they were cut and installed.  Flattening was accomplished with a chain saw, trimming the rafter “ in place”, not exactly a fun working position.  This problem could have been avoided by not sawing the rafters flat until they were installed on the roof.  A bitter lesson learned through experience.  As my mother used to say, “Experience is a dear teacher, but fools will learn no other”.

We never got too comfortable working with a chain saw while sitting on a rafter, especially since had to accomplish the trimming along the whole length of the rafter.  Eventually Don innovated with an attachment to the saw that greatly speeded up the process.  By allowing an extension of the saw handle to rest on the rafter next to the one being “flattened”, the “planning” was accomplished by swinging the chain saw side to side and controlling the depth of cut to a chalk line mark that had been made for that purpose.  So besides getting into all the various positions to work the chain saw, all the chalk marks had to be measured and put into place.  It was real “squirrelly” work.

Gord Hardlott and his friend Ernest, both from  the Indian community of Stanley Mission, on the Churchill River 150 miles south of the island.  They return to the island with the butchered moose and calf the had shot that morning.   Gord has since become a cherished friend who visits Don each summer.  Don had suggested his good luck might be related to the fact that he had spent the prior night in the cook tent, sitting at the table which we had located on top of what turned out to be the remains of a monster moose.  This developed into a tradition of Don giving annual “Moose Blessings” to Gord and his hunting friends, using the bones that had be exhumed from the hump under the table.  These blessings have resulted in a string of very unusual moose encounters for those blessed hunters.

Ernest cuts off a prime sirloin for us to cook for ourselves.  It was delicious.  The butchered meat was stashed in their sleeping bags to keep it as cool as possible.  As you can see, butchering is a bit bloody.  Gord and Ernest were returning to their annual “Gathering”, where the older residence of Stanley mission get taken on a community “Campout” for a week, passing on oral traditions and stories of old, while younger hunters like Gord and Ernest return from hunting with their catch.  Calf hide is prized for making articles of clothing.  The women finish processing the meat and the hide.  Much esteem is garnered by successful hunters.

Jerome and Don watch as the hunters leave to pier.

Gord is well educated and on the internet.  He has served as a Councilor for his Indian Band government.  This is an elected position to a group that administers all the local government of seven Indian Communities. Gord as typical of the local Indians posessess a keen sense of humor and enjoys nothing more than a good joke.  In future years, Gord would appear at the island in his canoe and greet me we “How, I come to sit with the great moose spirit”, raising his right arm Hollywood style.  My young helpers were thinking this guy is right out of the primitive past, expecting they might get scalped at any minute.  Gord of course would do anything to perpetuate the myth as long as possible.

Don pounds nails in the OSB roof deck above the Mud Room.

Jerome and Jay at the front of the cabin.  Note the block and tackle hanging to the left of Jerome.  It continued to be used to hoist heavy log trusses into place, especially when there was limited help to do the heavy lifting.

Looking toward the landing.  Finally, the roof is secured.  Since the tar paper was not going to get covered with the tin roof until next year, it had to be protected from the severe winter weather.  Don devised a scheme of holding it down with a heavy lattice work of scrap lumber.  The two large sections on each side of the roof were attached with strong plastic baling twine over the ridge line, mimicking a saddle bag arrangement.  This avoided putting any nails in the roof, yet it did hold the tar paper in place and it survived the winter in good fashion.

Shirley and Betty in front of a field of Canola side by side to flax, of light blue color and it makes a striking contrast.  The intersection of these two fields spread off to the western horizon as far as one could see.  Some fields in southern Saskatchewan are unbelievably large.  We had just left Weyburn, where we had arrived at 11 PM the previous evening.  It was a leisurely day of driving north with more than the usual number of photo stops.  Don had managed to cram everything into his small Senta and according to Betty the leisurely pace did not quite offset the crowded condition.

A few fields of peas could be seen in their white bloom.  We met Tom in LaRonge and checked into the Harbor Inn.  Next morning we continued north, planning to get all the way to the island the same day. With the addition of Tom to the Sentra, it was definitely too crowded and was very poor planning by Don.  He heard a lot about it from Betty.

Stopping at the Churchill River Bridge north of LaRonge is always a must.  Looking upstream, the river is quite low.  On one trip, we saw a jet boat speeding up this rapids.  Earlier fishing trips to the Churchill involved running our small fishing boats through similar rapids where the water was frequently 100 feet deep but the possibility of barely submerged rocks was always present.

Looking down stream, the white water is a “hole” in the river called by the local Cree Indians the “Devil’s Hole”.  Cree legend requires canoe travelers to give it a wide birth or suffer dire consequences.  Seems like good advice.  Grandmothers Bay is in the far distance and is a favorite local fishing spot.  An Indian community is located there.

Fire weed was in bloom all along the gravel road north.  There were no mechanical problems going north, just over crowded conditions.

Betty stands by the Wathaman River sign.  The old orange bridge has not yet been pulled away from the river.  The more flimsy looking new bridge is on the far left.  The old bridge remains at this location (thru 2009 at least) , perhaps it will be used further north on some new road that doesn’t require more strength an that to handle an 18 wheeler.  The portage was dry and almost bug free.  Everything was portaged and the boats loaded for departure to the island by 5PM.  Our weather was good for the boat ride to the island.  By the time we had put up our tents, moved all our gear out of the boats and opened the cache, it was fairly late, things in quite a mess and we were quite tired.  Supper was abbreviated to a bowl of granola and then it was off to bed.

A great breakfast started the following day.  The ladies spent time cleaning the cook tent and getting the food barrels cleaned and sorted to their satisfaction.  This allowed them to know what supplies were available besides the new groceries we brought with us.  Tom and Don worked installing interior walls behind what was to become a stone wall.  High wind aborted an afternoon fishing trip to the “Honey Hole”.  Fishing in the lea of the local islands produced only Northern Pike which we kept and ate for supper.  Cooked fresh, they are almost as good as walleye, just a lot more “slimy” to clean.

Betty is fishing for walleyes.  She and Shirley are excellent fishermen, having learned well in their youth from their Grandfather and Father at Clear Lake, Iowa.

Shirley looks on as Tom shows off his walleye, just one of many to be caught, most of which get thrown back into the water to be perhaps caught again.

Don shows off a stringer of walleyes destined to return to the island for eating.  Fish to be taken home are not normally kept until the day before departure since the capability to freeze the fish has not yet arrived on the island.  Fish going home can be kept for a short while in the permafrost cooler but they are not as good as being fresh caught or fresh frozen.

Betty emerges from the fly covered tent.  The green tarp assured a dry tent.  She and her sister did most of the cooking but Tom did the breakfast now and then.  This allowed the men to concentrate on cabin building.

Betty and Shirley specialized in doing the laundry in white buckets.  It was called “doing Don’s dirt dickies” and afforded Don a level of cleanliness beyond the normal.

Shirley and Betty enjoyed many quality hours together on the island.

The clean, organized cook tent reflects the efforts of Betty and Shirley.  We were never short of something really good to eat.

Betty likes to wear Don’s down vest to ward off the morning chill as she cooks breakfast.

Don is being toasted for some long forgotten occasion.

Don and Shirley are enjoying a fresh fish supper.  Note the 2 liter bottle filled with catsup anf the oil lamp being used at that time.

Shirley prepares to emerge from her dry tent.

Don, Tom and Shirley are picking blue berries at Esker Portage at the far end of the lake, about one mile northeast of the island.  This was a good year for the berries and we were lucky enough to not encounter any bears in the process.

These are about as big as blue berries get this far north.  They tend to be found on south facing slopes and in areas recently cleared of old growth timber by a forest fire.

Betty picks berries.  At times the mosquitoes can be a problem with the only remedy being a head net and lots of repellant.

Shirley pick berries.  The bushes hug the ground and are often under the edge of larger bushes.

On another berry picking trip Betty was dressed for the light rain which also makes good mosquito protection.  Note the rubber chore booys that work so well in the north woods.

Tom holds a section of 7/16” particle board as Don nails it in place.  Identical particle board was used to cover the interior walls

Tom provided much needed muscle to handle the particle board, especially on the flimsy scaffolding we were using.

Don is shown in an emergence escape door that was framed into the back wall of the loft.  It has not been implemented into an actual door yet (2009) but perhaps at a later date.

Tom helps Don with a log truss being built.  They required many trips up into the ceiling, only to be returned to the floor for necessary trimming to get a good fit.

Tom lifts as Don pulls on the rope to get the log back up in place for another measurement and trimming with the chain saw.  Note the support post to the right of Don.  Upon completion of all the roof trusses, all the support post were removed and fortunately there was no sagging of the roof.

Tom lifts a vertical member of the truss to be measured.  Note the black steel bracket above his head that is bolted to the ridge pole.  It was welded from ¼” steel by Don back in Boulder as part of the trip preparation.  The log will have a slot cut in its end into which the steel bracket will be slid, holes drilled and bolts added to fasten it to the bracket.  This method was used at all the attachment points of the truss and resulted in an ultra strong, attractive joint that once you have the brackets, becomes a relatively easy connection to execute with simple tools and a chain saw.

Tom starts the generator that had been fixed with a new carburetor.  It had given Don and Jerome fits the prior year but now was running great.  We tried to recharge Shirley’s video camera but erroneously left it plugged in during all the starting and stopping of the generator.  Unfortunately, we managed to “fry” Shirley’s camera and render it useless.  Sorry Shirley!!

Don saws out a half circle of particle board in the process of making a pattern for a special bracket to attach nine logs at a single attachment point.  All the individual brackets that Don had fabricated proved impractical in this special application so he installed all the logs using a particle board pattern, then taking the pattern home aat end of this trip and using it to fabricate a steel bracket from 7/16” steel plate.  It weighed about 95 pounds.  On the next and last trip north this year it was hauled out to the island and fitted precisely as a replacement for the wooden pattern.  Given its central location and importance for strength, the effort was well worth the trouble.

Betty catches a nice walleye at the “Honey-Hole”.

Not to be out done, Shirley matches her sisters catch.

Frequently we will catch Northern at the “Honey-Hole” as Shirley did here.  It went back into the water to grow a bit.

Tom gets into the Walleye act himself.

You can tell when a bigger than normal walleye gets caught because that is when the weighing scale comes out of the tackle box.  Betty has got a good one here.

Shirley has a 3 ½ pounder.  Nice for taking home.

Tom has another nice one too.

On a trip to take a hike on Esker Portage, Tom brought along a carbine for bear protection.  It has never been needed.

Reindeer Moss and Bear Berries abound under the forest canopy during the summer.  The white moss is the favorite food for reindeer, hence the name.

This is a view of Esker lake at the far north end of our usual nature hike at Esker portage.

Shirley, Don and Tom on the Esker Portage nature hike.

Shirley is by the wood pile.

Don and Betty on the front deck just before leaving for home.

Don and Betty sitting on a front window sill.  All the bracing created a problem for moving about the deck but Don was leery of taking it down until all the internal strength members were installed.

Shirley is ready for the ride to the landing. We left the island for home at 8:30 AM on Saturday, August 13. On the way south to LaRonge we got a quick glimpse of a bear. We stayed at the Harbor Inn that night. Next day (Sunday) driving between LaRonge and Prince Albert we had a very good view of a large wolf crossing the road in front of us. His legs were awkwardly long like a moose. We stayed in Sidney, Montana that evening and drove to Boulder the next day. Don discovered he didn’t have a house key and was forced to break a shop window to gain entrance to the house.

Don bought steel plate in Denver to make the special log bracket for the cabin.  Frank Watts spent the night in Boulder then on August 19, Frank, Don and a neighbor, Ed Nielson leave for the north.  We stayed in Sidney that evening.  The next day we drove to the Provincial Park at Davin Lake.  Frank and Don slept in the truck while Ed slept under the stars.  The next day we had had high waves but a following wind and a light load made for an easy trip to the island.  A seagull became quite friendly as we fished at the “Honey-Hole”.  Don took off his hooks and tied a piece of cut bait to his line and temporarily “caught” the gull.  The gull got safely away when the cut bail was upchucked.

The floating gull and Don with the cut bait are evidence for the truth of the story.  Ed is to the right of Don.

Ed catches a walleye at the “Honey-Hole”.

The cabin front is really starting to look great.  This cabin project is very slow going but Don is feeling eager to get at the project next year, being especially happy with this years progress.  We started home from the island on September 1 and had an uneventful trip.

      A more complete store for 1995 follows. 

Wednesday, May 31, 1995

Jerome and Don left Boulder at 11 PM after a full day of working on doing “Last Day” jobs and packing. I was very tired and gave Jerome the choice of staring then or getting some sleep, then leaving in the morning.  We left immediately with Don doing the driving.  The truck was so overloaded I thought the rear springs might snap.  We stopped to check tire pressure (OK) and the new trailer bearings that had been such a pain to replace earlier that day.  They were OK also.  The bearings got checked about four times before we reached Cheyenne.

It had been the right bearing that had burned up in 1992 and that was the one that always would continue as a problem in subsequent years.  They seemed warm; the left was mildly hot while the right was just warm.  To my surprise, at Cheyenne they were both cool.  The outside temperature had dropped to maybe 40 degrees F. and that must have helped lower their running temperature.  The overloaded rear-end caused the truck’s steering to “wander” a bit and to respond to steering slowly but one soon adjusted to this characteristic.

Thursday, June 1, 1995

Don continued driving to  Douglas and then to Gillette where we had a beautiful sunrise about 5 AM.  Stopping for gas at our regular station just north of Gillette at 6:30 AM we discovered they didn’t open until 7:00 AM.  That was too long of a  wait for $ .07 per gallon savings, so we drove back one mile and gassed up plus added a quart of oil to the hard worked engine.  Jerome drove to Broadus, Mt., while Don got some good sleep.  We ate breakfast at about 8 AM at the usual Café on the north edge of town.  Three pancakes, two eggs and large milk were too much for Don.  Their cakes are huge, but good.  Don drove to Glendive where we gassed again.  Jerome drove to Plentywood and we got the last US gasoline at Kum & Go.  Don drove to the border, arriving at 3 PM.  After 5 or 6 standard questions, we were waved on.  No one was in front of us but we were followed by 2 or 3 cars.  I think the secret to a quick entrance into Canada is to be fishing for 10 to 12 days and have cars waiting behind you at the border station.  Don drove through Regina to Watrous where gasoline was less expensive by $.04 per gallon than Regina.  This was surprising because the only other gas station in town was closed for remodeling.  The oil was OK and while I wondered about the coolant, the truck was running cool according to the gauge, so I did not bother to check it.  Five miles out of Watrous, while passing my 2^nd car of the trip, the truck started to boil over.  We stopped immediately and waited for it to cool down.  Jerome is a good mechanic and we both wondered which hose was broken?  Was the problem a bad water-pump?  Was the problem a broken fan belt?  Other??

After checking out all these things we could not find any problem except for all the green water on the ground.  About that time, a big empty trailer rig stopped to help.  The driver took a quick look at out situation  returned to his truck for some gloves to assist his removing the still very hot radiator cap.  We started the engine and filled the radiator with all the water from our frozen ice water jug. There were no leaks, how lucky we were.  Apparently the hot afternoon, extra work of the engine trying to pass another car and perhaps a low level of coolant pushed us over the upper tolerance of the engine and it started to boil.  Quickly we turned off the engine and decided we could fix our problem with a couple gallons of water since the radiator still was not full.  The trucker offered to winch my Suburban and trailer onto his giant empty trailer and haul us into the next town.  I suggested we would be happy if he would just give me a ride into the next town.  I could find some water and then hitch a ride back.

The trucker drove me three miles into the town of Young.  He took charge of our problem and decided he could recruit some local help to get us water and transport me back to my truck.  We entered the only bar in town.  There was only one patron: he was playing solitaire and a barmaid.  The trucker explained our problem.  The largest container in the bar was 2 quarts so our first problem was finding a bigger container.  The lone patron volunteered a 5-gallon bucket and the water but his car was not licensed so we still needed a ride back to the truck.   At that moment a second patron entered the bar to buy a ½ case of beer for a political meeting he was going to attend that night.  After hearing our problem repeated, he volunteered to drive to pick up the bucket of water and then drive back to the truck.  These arrangement having been made, the trucker felt things were under control enough so he received my thanks and departed.  The two patrons and I drove to pick up the bucket, fill it with water and then the second patron drove Don back to the truck in his older, very dusty K-car.  We thanked the driver and he left.   Don started the truck while Jerome poured in the water.  The temperature gauge fluctuated unnaturally, with Don being happy when it went down but worried, as it would swing back up again.  It quickly settled down to a new lower than before reading and we hoped that the problem was really solved.  Don drove to Young and went into the bar and bought the solitaire player who was now seated back at his original table, a drink.  Don then paid the bar maid for a beer to be given to the second patron whenever he came back in.

Jerome drove to Prince Albert where we found Windsor Plywood about 10 PM.  We had hoped to get there early enough to discuss purchase of wood supplies but they were of course closed so we left them a note and Jerome drove on to LaRonge.  Our gas gauge was on empty when we arrived at 1 AM.

Friday, June 2, 1995

We parked in the gas station parking lot and we both “slept” in the front seat, along with a cooler.  It was not a good rest.  Breakfast was finished at the Zesty’s Cafe by 7:10 AM and we gassed the truck plus barrels and cans.  If we were overloaded before our load condition now was perilous.  After buying fishing licenses we were off to pick up the mobile phone from Sasktel.  Their building was closed until 11AM!! Such are the hours of a monopoly “service”.  Jerome went to the post office while I went to the Government Building to pay my property taxes on the leased land.  I am told they are in room 206.  After hunting and hunting for room 206, I find there is no Room 206.  The tax office is in Room 208.  Ok, after finding Room 208, I find that they do not accept US cash, checks or credit cards for payment of  property taxes, only Canadian cash.  Walking to the bank, it looks promising with three people coming out the front doors.  “Sorry, we don’t open until 10 AM” they told me as they departed.

Now Don tries phoning Sasktel from the Laundromat but there is no answer.  Don was getting frustrated as he walked back to the truck.  He spotted a Sasktel service truck pulling into their parking lot and talked the driver into allowing Don inside the building.  Don is surprised to find the building teeming with people scurrying about.  Don finds the receptionist and inquires about the phone he had earlier made arrangements to pick up.  The phone was sitting in the hallway with Don’s name on it, ready to go.  Walking out the locked front door, Don asked how he could get into the building next time.  A blank stare and some mumbling about how they were always happy to make exceptions met him.  Don felt it was probably useless to discuss the matter further, so he left with the big phone box, happy he had it in hand well before 11 AM.

Jerome returned from the post office.  They didn’t sell large envelopes, so he had to tear up the map he was sending his father so it would fit in a standard size letter envelope.  Jerome worked at tightening all our ropes, boat lashings and gear while I went to the hotel to see if I could get US currency turned into Canadian.  They obliged by giving me $25 Canadian for my $20 US, just what I needed to pay my 1993 and 1994 taxes.  Back at the truck, Jerome discovered we had driven the entire way from Boulder with the 4-wheel axle locked on.  We had used the 4-wheel drive to navigate the 76^th street construction mess near home and had forgotten to disengage it after getting back on pavement.  This is not a good thing to do!!  After paying my taxes, we were on our way at 10 AM on the road north of LaRonge.

Skies were overcast but no rain as Don drove north.  The road was dry, dusty and generally better than usual.  Good thing, considering the overloaded status of the truck and trailer.  Traffic was very light but one oncoming car managed to “star” the windshield with a flying rock.  This is not an uncommon hazard.  A lot of smoke was in the air and the information we received in Prince Albert about the 81 fires burning now seemed more real. Some of the fires were east of Prince Albert and some southwest of LaRonge where real commercial grade timber was burning.  This is the kind of fire they fight.  Most of the fires were in the lake country, up in the Deception Lake area and this was probably the smoke we were now seeing.  Those fires would not be fought, rather left for Mother Nature to extinguish, naturally, similar to how they likely started, naturally.

We arrived at the 4-wheel trailhead about 2:45 PM, very happy to have had no problems along the way.  It had been overcast but no rain and quite dusty the entire way.  The new 4-wheel road connection that was moved last summer was now located on the right side of the cleared parking area.  Construction last summer of the new Wathaman River bridge involved them moving a whole hill of gravel and rock to use as new roadbed for the new bridge being constructed along side the old bridge.  Don had been parked at the far end of the 4-wheel road and when he had driven back out to the main road, discovered the trail and hill he used to drive in on was quite missing.  He had “bush whacked” his Suburban down the side of the excavation and luckily found the official road project engineer parked by the river.  The engineer was unaware that there had been a 4-wheel road on the hill they used for fill and graciously agreed to bull dose a new connection to the original trail up on top of the ridge.

There was no problem driving the 4-wheel drive road to the portage trailhead parking area.  Don had learned well to drive very, very, slowly.  This was just the opposite of the truck TV ads where rocks are flying and wheels are airborne.  Our problems started when we examined the boats, which Martin and I had left at the landing at the end of last season.  The 17’ Lund had its splash rail partly torn off with 14 boltholes open and the 14’ Lund was moved from where we had left it.  There were many empty brass 30.06 rifle cartridge shell casings in the boat along with one live 12-gauge shotgun shell.  The drain plug was also missing from the 14’ Lund.  These boats had been “barrowed” by native hunters and driven hard.  As I prepared to cut a 1” sapling to screw into the drain hole “Indian style” , Jerome found a new drain plug  among the rocks, solving that problem.  The open splash rail holes would certainly allow some water to come into the boat if we were heavily loaded or encountered big waves.  We would solving this problem by leaving the 17’ Lund at the landing and bringing back repair material from the island on a later trip.

We unloaded the “new” (used) 16’ Lund from the “tank” trailer and pulled it over short logs down the portage trail to the lake.  The lake was very low, several feet lower than what I thought was normal.  Don had been told that there had been a heavier than normal snow pack that winter.  He wondered where it had all gone.  The lower lake level exposed many rocks at the landing and made getting the boats into water deep enough to float a much tougher job than normal.  This extra work consumed more time and energy and contributed to the delay of their departure for the island.  By 6 PM it was clear they would not be ready to boat toDdancing Loon Island that night.  Don suggested to Jeromy that they again “sleep” in the truck that night.  Jerome readily agreed.  The thought of not making the 4-hour boat trip, much of it in the dark and unloading and setting up tents in the dark (as had been done many times before) gave Don a second wind.  His recently scoped knee had held up quite well (about 90%) and he didn’t have too much pain.  Further, the lack of depth perception caused by his newly blinded left eye, while traversing the muddy, mucky, wet, rocky, root lined trail was not much of a problem.  Mostly, they were in need of more daylight and fresh water to drink.

By 10 PM all the gear except food and most of the reworked band saw was in a large pile at lakeside, covered with a tarp and ready to load in the boats next morning.  The truck window screens Don had made for just such a situation worked very well and allowed the truck windows to be opened for fresh air.  They were able to sleep better than the night before since much of the truck had been emptied and they could now find some flat spots to spread their sleeping bags.

Saturday, June 3, 1995

They had been parked next to the trailhead, not up at the parking lot.  This had saved 50 yards of portage distance and they planned to move the truck back up to the parking area the next morning after unloading it, since it was almost blocking the portage trail.  Don woke at 4 AM, probably from the cold.  He shut all the windows and thought about getting up for an early start but just couldn’t get the body motivated and drifted back to sleep.

At 5 AM he awoke when Jerome said people were portaging by the truck.  The Grand Junction, Colorado crew of 6 had arrived.  Don was glad there was enough room for them to get around the truck to the trailhead.  Now it was time to get up.  Don and Jerome finished portaging and moved the truck to it parking place at the upper parking lot next to the tank trailer.  As the Grand Junction folks loaded their boats Don and Jerome ate a breakfast of ham sandwiches, Mountain Dew and brownies.

After loading the four boats they got underway at 9 AM.  It was overcast, oncoming wind, cold but no rain.  It quickly became apparent that the boats were not properly trimmed for a long trip so they stopped to shift the 14’ Lund load more to the rear.  Next, the sports canoe towline was lengthened to stop its zigzag tracking.  That didn’t solve the problem so more weight was shifted to the rear of the canoe and that solved the problem.  After all that messing around it was almost 10 AM, not exactly catching the early morning calm water Don had hoped for.  Later Don found that Jerome was freezing cold but he wouldn’t say anything about it. It was quite cold and Don stopped once to put on his old green goose down filled vest.  Between the vest, his wool army pants, rubber boots with snow mobile liners, blue quilted jacket, heavy rain parka, stocking cap and very heavy wool mittens, he was very comfortable.  Comfortable that is as long as he didn’t think about how quickly he would sink if knocked overboard.  There were no surprises along the way and the 30 HP Johnson ran smoothly, getting about 15 minutes past the halfway point on the first 6 gallon tank of gasoline.  With a NE wind, the roughest water is always in the shallows down wind from the long deep open water west of Jay’s island.  With the light load, we cut through the waves smoothly with the 16” Lund and that smoothed the water for the boats in tow.  The total trip took 3 hours and 40 minutes.  Dancing Loon Island beach was in the lea of the wind so it was an easy landing and the boats quickly unloaded.  All boats were pulled ashore on the old log roller tracks and the canoe was beached on the shore rocks.  A quick survey of the island revealed no foul play except that animals or the wind scattered last year’s trash about the beach.  They had no room for the trash bag at departure time last fall and so left it on the beach to deal with next year.  That was the last time Don tried that stupid move.

Tents went up first and then a cover was put on the cook tent.  New clear plastic was put on the high clear-story walls and the barrel stove hooked up.  Next, the roof port through which the stovepipe exits the roof and stovepipe were assembled.  There was enough light left to get tarps put over the tents as rain fly’s and then a late meal of Dinty Moore stew prepared.  Don was so very tired that food didn’t much interest him, a real indication of the extent of his exhaustion.  It was off to the sleeping bag and the first totally horizontal sleeping in three nights.  It rained 3-4 inches all night long with lots of thunder.  The guys were very happy to have the tarps in place, keeping the tents totally dry and allowed them to enjoy the rain.

Sunday, June 4, 1995

Breakfast consisted of pancakes, bacon and eggs and could not have tasted any better.  With a warm stove to make us comfortable, things were starting to seem a bit organized.  The day was spent doing infrastructure chores, like a home made toilet seat, tarp over the outside john, hooking up the mobile wireless phone, getting it to work, emptying gear from the cache and storing it in the cook tent or tool shed.  These are all things that must be done just so you can have a chance of getting that organized feel about your camp.

Our normal mobile phone channel of 11 doesn’t seem to work but I found that channel 2 works fine.  So much for being at the far reaches of our transmitter tower at Kane Lake.  On a different day, channel 11 may work OK.  At least we can reach civilization should the need arise.  A supper of hamburgers, scalloped potatoes, canned fruit, hot chocolate with some Bailey’s Irish Crème got me in the mood for another good night of rest.

Monday, June 5, 1995

I got almost caught up with my log by 10 AM. while  Jerome fixed pancakes, bacon, eggs , coffee and milk for breakfast, a combination of which I never tire.  The 30-gallon drum left on the island was drained of 5 gallons of very dirty gasoline and the two full 15 gallon drums transferred into the 30 gallon drum.  This confirmed we had 30 gallons of good gasoline in addition to what we had just hauled in.  It also meant we had plenty of gas to go fishing.  An hour was spent picking up last year’s scattered trash and another hour spent getting our fishing gear all assembled.

At 12:30 we went fishing in the 14’ Lund using the 10 HP Johnson motor.  The battery was dead, so we started it manually and charged the battery off the engine by just running about fishing.  The Grand Junction folks were at the Campbell River so we didn’t stay there long.  Fishing was slow at Wilson Rapids, but we did catch 3 nice walleye, 2 of which were brought back and put in our newly repaired live box.  Fishing off Indian Island was a zero.  The Indian campsite had a moose hide draped over a small tree.

Back on Dancing Loon Island, the effects of a very sunny day were felt with some mild sunburn.  Jerome fixed a large supper of fresh walleye, fried potatoes with onions added late in their cooking, warmed over scalloped potatoes au gratin, mandarin oranges, milk, coffee plus hot chocolate with Bailey’s.  Chatty loons serenaded us and reminded us why “loon” was in the island’s name.  Don had a nice phone conversation with Tom and everything is OK back in Colorado.  By 7:30 PM we were reading “Stories of Old Duck Hunters”.  Then Jerome read aloud from “Where the Red Fern Grows” and Don fell asleep.  Don awoke and wrote a page in his log but was then forced by drowsiness to go to bed.

Tuesday, June 6, 1995

We are up by 6:45 AM to find it a chilly 38 degrees F. and cloudy with a North breeze.  After we started a quick fire with kindling Jerome gathered yesterday, the cook tent soon warmed to a toasty temperature.  The hot coffee in my new loon pictured mug swirled steam upward as I finally got the log totally up to date.  I will be working next on the transcription of last year’s log from loose yellow papers into this bound log, along with current entries on our “To Do List”.

Our first job was to move the boats to safer parking spots in case of a strong wind.  Jerome moved rocks from the shallow water and we managed to get the 16’ Lund to be nicely high and dry.

Next we spent too much time getting the crypt open.  It has several real screws into the floor joist below it.  After all that effort, it was empty except for some ice.  Jerome moved some stub logs from the end of the shore trail while I started work on the rafter trusses.  Jerome helped Don move 2-15’ truss logs up onto the cabin floor and we decided on which rafter to center the pivot point (8’ from the SW window wall).

Jerome restacked the “hard” stuff from the beach to the log skinning area, thus clearing the path to the beach and making a third set of rollers available for the 17’ Lund when we brought it back to the island.  Jerome also moved some gear, the generator, etc up to the cabin site from the beach.

Don got the east rafter truss fitted and the West one started.  He used ropes to move the truss up and down 12 times to mark, cut, fit and try again before being happy with the fit.  Much of the chainsaw trimming was done with the log just hanging by the ropes, free to swing, thus making it a moving target.  With only one eye working, Don was amazed at the good fit he made.  Of course, it took all day so he wasn’t bragging too much.  Jerome took a nap while Don trimmed, then Jerome returned to the cabin to cut and staple Tyvek to the plywood outside, above and below the front windows.

Later that afternoon Jerome came up to the cabin carrying a cup and a gallon milk bottle full of water.  “We now have filtered water to drink” he proudly announced.  I had tried yesterday to get my new electric water filter working but the pump wouldn’t pump, so I had abandoned it to try later.  “What do you mean, Jerome, did you get my damned pump fixed?”  “How did you do it??”  I rattled off a sting of questions in disbelief.

“I sucked on the output line and got rid of the vacuum in the pump.  After that, she pumped real well” replied Jerome with more than a ting of pride in his voice.  “Hot Damn Leroy, why am I surprised?”  “You fix everything and solve all our problems”, I exclaimed with great joy.  “How does the water taste??  Pretty good, eh?”, I followed.  “Got rid of the slight lake taste alright.  Hot damn Leroy, you are OK, I don’t care what Martin says about you, you are OK!!”

At 7 PM we decided to fix supper.  Two large hamburgers apiece, beans plus corn rounded out the meal.  Jerome took the first hot shower (it had been 7 days coming), while Don picked up and stored tools in the cabin.  We are now working on top of the heavy green tarp put down on the floor last year for the winter protection.  It is handy not to have to spend time taking tarps up and down like we were last year.  Oh, what a pleasure having a flat surface to work on!

After getting the tools put away, during which the only mosquitoes of the day appeared, Don returned to the cook tent for his hot shower.  First I had to straighten out my tent and find a set of clean clothes.  “Jerome, how much hot water did you put in the shower bottle?”  “I filled it with all the water from the big pan, then topped it off with cold water and it was just right”, he said.  I found the blue shower bottle funnel in the tool box.  “It says ‘shower funnel H2O right on this tape.  We will see how it works”, I said.  After filling the bottle from the pan of heated water, I pumped it full of cold water from our pitcher-pump.  “This still seems pretty hot, Jerome”  “Well, I spilled more hot water than you because I didn’t use a funnel, so you might want to wait and let it cool down a bit”, Jerome responded.  “I think I better not wait any longer, seven days is a little long already”, I said.

The water was too hot, but by reducing the flow rate, it was just right.  “Leroy, don’t let those girls in here yet, I am not quite ready for my back to be washed.  They are just going to have to wait their turn!” I quipped.  “Leroy, how much do you think those Grand Junction boys camped down on that bare rock island would pay for a hot shower?  $20 or what?  We could put a sign up at Wilson Rapids with a big arrow pointing this way ‘Hot Showers $50’”.  Jerome allowed “They might just pay that”.

It was still twilight at 11 PM.  The half moon was up in a clear sky which was also a bright rose color in the North East.  Loons occasionally talked back and forth.  With a full belly, a clean body, clean clothes, a warm stove and a cozy oil lamp burning, it is hard to think of any place on earth as nice.  It seemed a shame to end it all by going to bed, but after a good day of getting real cabin work done, that too promises a great pleasure, and it did.

Wednesday, June 7, 1995

I was up at 6:30 AM.  It is 32 degrees, totally clear and dead calm.  What a gorgeous morning.  A warm fire and hot coffee keep me comfortable as I update this journal.  The phone is on but I doubt we will have any incoming calls.  Sasktel operators are so confused about incoming calls, we never get any.  I talked with Jules at Windsor Plywood in Prince Albert and all is OK for our arrival there Thursday evening.  Jerome sprayed all the cabin logs with Clorox and they brightened up considerably.  It took 3 ½ gallons of a 1;1 mixture of water and Clorox.  Jerome shampooed his hair afterwards so his hair wouldn’t blonde out from the over spray and it worked.  Jerome also tied empty Clorox bottles to our floating water line to avoid anyone accidentally running over it as Dr. Pinson did last year.

Jerome then sewed up some of his pants and his sleeping bag and prepared for the planned trip to Prince Albert on Thursday.  I spent most of the day sawing and fitting the west rafter truss and the S.E. diagonal truss.  It was a delightful day to work, no bugs and a pleasant 75 degrees.  Before supper I collected tarps for the Prince Albert trip.  We ended the day with a big meal of hamburgers with all the trimmings.

Thursday, June 8, 1995

I woke up first at 4 AM, again at 4:30AM and then got up at 5:10 AM.  Jerome has slept through his watch alarm, set for 5 AM.  There was a light wind from the West with partly cloudy skies and 45 degrees.  We hurried through breakfast and worked through our trip checklist.  At 8 AM we left the island in the new 16’ Lund, towing the 14’ Lund that was loaded with last year’s trash plus the sports canoe.  The routine boat trip got us to the landing by 10:30 AM, using only 6 gallons of gasoline.  We spent 1 ½ hours portaging stuff up to the truck and transferring gasoline from the two 30 gallon drums into two 15 gallon drums, boat cans, empty cans and 10 gallons into the truck for the trip to LaRonge.

The truck door had been left ajar and the battery was dead.  We jumped it with the boat battery to get it started.  The truck generator could be counted on to re-charge the truck battery and there were no further battery problems.

The right trailer spring leafs were spreading apart and we attempted to align them but we were unsuccessful.  We decided that we could more easily accomplish the job at the Turbo Station in LaRonge by loosening the spring “U” bolts.  Things always seem to take longer than planned and our 12-noon departure for LaRonge was later than we had planned.

Don drove to LaRonge, arriving at 4:30, we gassed up, fixed the spring by wrapped it with wire and rope after straightening it and got rid of our trash in the Turbo trash dumpster.  Initially the Turbo owner directed us to the city dump, but changed his mind just as we were leaving.  Don drove to Prince Albert, arriving there about 7:30 PM.  Jules was there at The Windsor Plywood Company and I thought he reminded me of Tom.  They were very accommodating and all their wood products met my quality expectations.  “Say Jules, would you happen to have some scrap wood , a hammer, some nails and a saw so I could build a couple spacers for the trailer to keep the wafer boards from sliding fore and aft ?”, I asked.  “At a lumber yard, we’ve got all that, what size nails would you like?” Jules replied.  “Oh, a few 8 and 10 pennies will do fine”, I answered.  “The saw is in that door and on your right.  Help your self” Jules added.  I could not help but think that this is the way it used to be in the USA before all the lawyers took control and gave us OSHA.  I searched the scrap woodpile for the right length 2 x 4s and then sawed the legs and cleats I needed.  The 2 x 4s were nailed together with cleats and then I added a leg to hold the 2 x 4s in front of and in back of the wafer boards stacked in my 10’ long trailer bed, thus capturing and holding the load centered over the axle.  “Say, Jules, this Canadian hammer doesn’t seem to work like my US model” I joke as I bend over a nail like a real klutz.  “Hey, that’s my Harvey wall-banger’, let me show you how to make it work”, Jules replies as he drives his nail straight and with a lot of authority.  “Thanks, Jules, my problem must be this blind eye” I said, sounding a lot like Fred Bunker in his later years.

Jules positioned a pile of wafer boards behind the trailer with his forklift and we slid the boards horizontally into the trailer.  “Hey, Jules, any chance we can barrow this fork lift for our portage?” I jokingly asked.  “I think we can drive right down that stream bed to the lake”.  “We can’t run this place without it.  The last time it broke down it near put us out of business” he replied rather seriously.  “Well then, maybe you could come along and provide some really good customer service and portage these boards about 150 yards to the lake and then load them in the boats?”, I asked, trying to sound serious.  “Well, you know, I really might enjoy that but my wife complains too much about being gone up North so much”, he responded.  I asked, “Do you like to fish up North?’  “I can’t live this close to it and not spend a lot of time there”, he said.  “What do you like to fish for?” I wondered.  “Northern and Walleye mostly”, he said.  I responded, “Do you mean Jacks and  Pickerel?”  “No, I call them Northerns and Walleyes” he responded.”  “What kind of funny Canadian talk is this anyway?  Besides I haven’t heard you say ‘Eh” once”, I joked.  “Oh, I used to talk that way but my father beat the ‘Eh’ out of me in high school”, he said with a wiry smile.

We had calculated the total weight of what we were going to purchase at 8629 pounds, 56-5/8” wafer board at 3976 lb, 60-½” wafer board at 2700 lbs, 100-5/4” x 12’ deck boards at 1575lbs and 36 –5/4” x 8’ deck boards at 378 lbs.  We planned on making two trips to get the total load.  The trailer was loaded with 2780 pounds plus thirty gallons of gasoline for another 210 pounds was used to get the proper tongue load since I had the option to carry it either in the front or rear of the trailer.  We put 1491 pounds of wafer board in the truck.  While the trailer was grossly overloaded, it had become used to it by now and the rig rode nicely.

At the nearby Burger King we ordered, then asked if they took US currency.  The girl pointed to a sign that said they gave 20% exchange.  This meant they gave you $1.20 Canadian for every$1.00 US.  The official rate was $1.37 Canadian per $1.00 US so they make good money for their trouble.  The bill was $12.68 Canadian.  I gave her $2.68 Canadian and a $20 US bill.  She gave me $10 Canadian change.  “Don’t you owe me $4 Canadian exchange?” I asked.  “Oh, yes you gave me$20 US, so sorry”, she said, genuinely confused and sorry.  We both laughed.  After eating, we gassed the truck and barrels at the station next door.  One thing about gasoline in Canada, it is all the same price in any one town.  Usually the “town price” increases with the distance from the US Border, but not always.  Gasoline in Prince Albert at $.61.5 per liter converts to $1.70 per gallon in US dollars, while gasoline in LaRonge at $.659 converts to $1.83 per gallon.

Jerome drove to LaRonge arriving at 12:30 AM, having a routine trip, except for the sparks behind the truck he saw once.  He had stopped to check the safety chain, to see if it was dragging but it was not, so he assumed the trouble was a cigarette thrown out an oncoming car window.  Unknown to us both, there was something very wrong that we were going to find out about before we got back to the landing.  We needed to stop for gasoline and we were dead tired so we parked into the Turbo parking lot in LaRonge to catch some shut-eye until they opened in the morning.

Friday, June 9, 1995

Jerome slept in the front seat (a little bit short but soft) while Don slept on the wafer board (plenty long but hard).  It was a matter of choosing your own poison.  We opened Zesty’s cafe next to the Turbo station and had a good breakfast.  After gassing up the truck and 2 empty gas cans we got a really early start up the road at 8 AM.

The morning air was heavy with smoke from the fires still burning but otherwise it was a nice cloudless day.  Don drove and things were quite normal until about 30 miles north of the cutoff to Southend.  We met an oncoming mining 18-wheeler truck.  We both slowed down and pulled over to our sides of the road. Crunch!!

The trailer sagged and I thought my right trailer tire was flat.  Actually, the whole wheel and tire was off the axle!!!  The lug nuts had worked loose and enlarged the rim lug holes enough until finally, with some side pressure caused by my steering to the right, the tire and rim popped off and the axle into the gravel.   The mining truck passed us then stopped and the driver walked back to see what the problem was.

Amazingly, most of the lug bolts were still usable as were a few of the lug nuts that were still on the bolts.  Our real problem was that our tools were buried under 1491 pounds of wafer board in the back of the truck and we could not get them out without unhooking the trailer which could not be done easily without the tools (jack).  The trucker went to his truck and returned with a 6-ton hydraulic jack and was quickly attempting to jack up the trailer like the missing tire was his personal problem to solve.

Another service truck going our same direction slowed down as he passed us and then pulled over to stop.  He got his jack, some wood cribbing and a spade.  He too started working our problem, wouldn’t have it any other way.  Jerome removed the front gasoline barrel and the spare trailer tire it was resting on.  Don gave word of encouragement and rounded up flat rocks for more shoring.  We barrowed 3 of 8 good nuts from the left trailer tire after I discovered that the truck lugs were too big to use.

The task was made more difficult by the very heavy weight of the trailer and that the axle had dropped so low on the road without having even a flat tire on a wheel to allow clearance to get the required large jack under the axle.  In about one hour we thanked our good Samaritans.  “Well, it might be me broke down someday and needing a hand” one quipped.

Underway, we were feeling mighty happy with our good fortune.  “I was waiting for something like this to happen.  With all the stories of mechanical problems in the earlier years and we didn’t have any last year, so I guess we were due”, Jerome mused.  “I also think I own this one. I was the last person to tighten the lug nuts that came loose, while changing the wheel bearing back in Boulder.”  “And I own some of it for not checking on the nuts”, Don replied, trying to relief Jerome from some of his embarrassment.

Our good luck did not last long!!  Only 3 miles after changing the trailer tire, I slowed, as I always do, going up a very steep hill.  Near the top, an oncoming pickup with a high camper was speeding down the middle of the road and pointed right at us.  He never slowed and my guess is that he never saw us.  I chose to hit the ditch rather than his front bumper.  Luckily I was going no more than 25 MPH and I easily got one wheel on the shoulder and one wheel in the ditch.  Unfortunately, it happened so fast that the trailer overshot and it’s right wheel was six foot ditch side off the road edge where it found a cubic foot sized rock.  It blew the tire and smashed the rim down to the brake drum.

No one stopped to help this time, in fact no one even drove by.  So we unhooked the trailer and pulled out the 24 71-pound sheets of wafer board so we could get to our tools.  My screw jack worked, but not as well as the hydraulic one we had just used.  With no wood blocking, it was an all rock cribbing game.  Fortunately, I had planned for this type of tire problem and made sure that the truck and the trailer would use the same size wheels and tires, so we were able to use the truck spare on the trailer.

As we slowly proceed down the road after another hours delay, we are acutely aware that we have no spare tire and a very poor recent history.  Instead of a 12:30 PM arrival at the landing, it was 2:45 PM and we seemed very tired.  Jerome portaged 24 sheets of the 71 pound 5/8” wafer board and 7 of the 45 pound 7/16” wafer board.  I tried to portage one of the lighter boards and my newly scoped knee rebelled and said NO.  So Jerome dug deep and did it all himself.

Next we carried the two full 15  gallon gas barrels on a portage pole and loaded everything in the boats except 4 of the 71 pound wafer boards.  We were obviously way too heavy and we would have to leave those boards to be picked up later.

“What do you want to do Jerome?  We can sleep here at the landing, in the truck and leave for the island early tomorrow, or leave now and get to the island well after dark.  We can’t safely leave the boats loaded there all night, so all this stuff will have to be unloaded when we get there?”  Jerome responded “I guess I’d just as soon leave now, it will sure get us closer to some food, since I can’t even remember eating breakfast”.  “Good, that is what I was hoping you’d say, lets go”, I said.

We shoved off at 8 PM but it was slow getting all the boats started in a line because we were fighting a head wind in the bay and a very shallow rocky bottom.  Finally, I was able to power up and to my horror, 4 pieced of black bondo popped off the rivets on the splash railing and 4 good sized streams of water started pouring in to the back of my rather heavily loaded boat.

The Bitchathane patch I had put on had obviously ripped off somehow and I now needed 4 wooden pencil-sized plugs in a hurry.  I stopped the motor and turned on the sump pump.  I could see 4 holes but there were 10 other holes that I had patched the same way but were hidden from my view by compartments.  What about them I thought?  I was more panicked inside than I let on.  “Jerome, we need 4 pencil sized plugs to stop the leaking, fast.  Got any ideas?  Fast!!”

Don thought to himself, “Wooden matches from the emergency kit?  No way, too small”.  “How about the rope bag?”  Don asked out loud.  Jerome tossed Don the green rope bag.  The first rope Don saw was a yellow nylon braided one, the kind that unravels and gets a mushroom end on it.  Don had melted the ends and twisted them when soft in a rag.  This formed the ends into a solid cone shape that made the ropes usable, and now to Don’s delight they made excellent hull hole plugs.  He quickly found another short yellow rope with pointed ends and “Whamo”, no more incoming water.  Further examination revealed that the other patches had not been scratched off and were not leaking.

At 8:30 PM we were underway.  The wind stopped as it usually does in the evening and the lake became a mirror like surface.  This is one big reason to travel water at night and sometimes it trumps all other considerations, especially when ‘big water’ is involved or a particularly pesky wind direction.  It was not too cold and a ¾ moon filled the clear sky off to the Southeast.  We seemed to be going slower than usual, not more than 5 MPH, Don estimated.  Then as they passed 4-mile island, Don recalculated how long the trip was going to take and it came out at 4 hours.  Before Don got his GPS unit several years later, he would spend much of the water time trying to make mental calculations to determine ETAs.  This always helped him pass the time, but it frequently resulted in widely divergent answers, probably due to the head math making errors more likely.

At the 7-mile narrows, 4 hours still seemed right, plus the first 6-gallon gas tank might get them to “Half-way Island”.  It did, plus a little more and the 4-hour trip seemed assured.

With just enough twilight, they got around the Northwest point of “Low Island” and down the channel between the Northwest shore and “Ice Island” where they camped last year waiting for the ice to go out.  Now they were in deep water and the increasing darkness no longer much of a problem.  Don could see familiar silhouettes of distant shores and there was no mistaking the outline of Jay’s Island that Don wanted to pass on the right.  Forty-five minutes later they did just that.

Now they were in Don’s own backyard, so to speak, the same route as a trip back to Dancing Loon Island from a fishing excursion to the rapids, something that Don had done hundreds of times.  Even so, in darkness, it is very hard to tell distances, especially with only one working eye.  Don thought, “We are too far East, I better steer left or we will end up on Alligator Rock”.  They past well clear of Alligator Rock, rounded Rose point and the silhouette of Dancing Loon Island came sharply into view.

At 12:20 AM they pulled up to the island.  The floating white buoys helped mark the waterline in the low moonlight.  “You are heading into the bathing rock!”  Jerome shouted.  “Thanks, I see it now”, Don replied.  By 1:15 AM they had the many band-saw parts and wood all unloaded from the boats and covered for the night with tarps.  Jerome, who had carried every piece of wood and most of the band-saw parts went directly to bed, even though he had not eaten since breakfast.  There comes a point of exhaustion when food looses it priority to sleep and Jerome had since passed that point.

Don wanted to go to bed too, but he had 5 very sore cracked fingers that needed attention.  He went first to the cook tent to apply antibiotic cream and bandages to the sore fingers.  Although he could barely wait to get into his sleeping bag, he faced one last problem.  His wet rubber chore boots would not come off his hiking boots.  Unfortunately, the hiking boots shoestrings were tied with double knots and the newly bandaged fingers were not up to the task of undoing the knots.  The ensuing struggle was a bit like a match between Godzilla and King Kong.  Finally, exhausted but free of his boots, Don was able to get into his sleeping bag with just enough time before falling into a deep sleep to hear a loon calling across the lake.

Saturday, June 10, 1995.  It was 9 AM before Don was aware it was time to rise.  It was another clear, calm 65-degree F. morning.  Don thought to himself, “This weather must really be feeding the forest fires”.  He went to get milk and eggs from the permafrost cooler for breakfast.  The first person each morning who walks up the trail to the cabin gets to “break trail” through the maze of mostly invisible spider webs that have been constructed across the trail the prior evening by the ambitious spiders.  You do not see most of them but their silky lines tickle your face as you walk along.  They must work at this construction 24 hours a day because even an hour of no traffic is enough time for the trail to collect a noticeable number of spider lines.

It was easy to see that not much work was going to get done this day.  Don repaired the captain’s chair with duct tape and remarked, “That sucker ought to last 20 years