My earliest recollection of Lorne was in January 1983 when my older brother, Dave, suggested the three of us cross country ski in to and spend the night in a cabin in the vicinity of Lorne's hunt camp between Two Mile and Wadsworth Lakes off Highway 62, north of Highway 7. I was training for my gold bar in the Canadian Ski Marathon so I welcomed the opportunity to ski with a loaded pack.
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| Dave Bush (L), Wil Bush January 1983 |
Lo and behold Lorne brought his dog, a Saint Bernard-like brute named Claude, minus the miniature whiskey barrel under the chin. I thought this is great as Claude could break trail in the deep snow making life easier for us following skiers. In the end too many zig zags following Claude and we were left to break our own trail. Thus we moved slower than anticipated.
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| Claude and Lorne |
I won't say Lorne didn't know where he was going but in a snow-covered coniferous forest, one tree looks like another.
"Oh we're getting close" as the fading sun was evident but no sign of the cabin. Soon we were down to the residual sunlight when Lorne announced, "We may be euchred", no doubt conjuring up his final thoughts with memories of a card game so near and dear to him.
The nail in the coffin to reaching the cabin was being confronted by a raging brook that was impossible to cross.
"We've got to put down back at that small clearing we just passed" he said in his Sergeant-Major decisive tone.
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| Lorne (L) Wil |
And then Lorne's outdoor skills went into high gear. Collecting kindling, firewood and getting the fire going was a breeze for him.
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| Wil and Lorne |
I was experimenting with various formats for the sleeping out portion of the ski marathon. On this trip I was testing a plastic emergency tube tent held up by a string slung between two ski poles. It was about 8 feet long and wide enough that I could insert myself feet first from one end and brother Dave would do the same from the other end. Brother Dave also experimented with burrowing into the snow.
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| Dave |
As Lorne was counting on making the cabin he had no shelter with him, minimalist as he was. Again, no problem for the outdoorsman. He simply cut off some cedar boughs for a mattress and then planned to have Claude snuggle in tight.
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| Lorne in his bedroom |
I'm sure we ate supper and wiled away the hours. Doing what you ask? Camp fires and story telling went hand in hand for Lorne. I think his favourite topic was his life growing up in the Valley. He could have put me to sleep with his tales if it weren't for the night cold.
In the morning Lorne discovered that before drifting off to sleep he neglected to bring into his sleeping bag his ski boots which were frozen solid by wakey wakey time. Our departure was delayed until a revitalized fire thawed them sufficiently to put them on. He also cursed Claude for leaving him in the night to go sleep alone thus depriving Lorne of some extra warmth.
Obviously we survived the night and did make it to a camp if only for Lorne to have his tea with breakfast. Needed water. No problem for Lorne. It was also the first time I noted that Lorne didn't need to clean his plate after eating. Not even a scrap for a mouse was left.
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| Lorne with ax, Wil |
Needless to say we got out and back home safely. It was a great outing for sure with a few lessons learned by each of us. Additionally for me was the opportunity to be with my brother and Lorne, each embracing the outdoors and accepting the challenges that arose as part of the experience.
Dave & Wil,
ReplyDeleteI know exactly where the 3 of you spent that cold night in the bush. You had skied east on the extension of the East Road and were less than 1 km from Merrill Lake when you reached another trail crossing. Had you continued straight, you would have gone down a fairly steep hill to the old wooden camp on the south shore of the west arm of the lake. The tin camp, your destination, would then have been to your left and across the narrows only a short distance away.
But instead the trail you were on "appeared" to turn right and it made sense to follow this path of least resistance. This new trail you were on heads to the south shore of Whitefish Lake and beyond to the power line trail west of the Robinson Marsh dam. Just a very short distance before Whitefish Lake you would have found yourselves at a large creek in the rocks flowing from left to right.
I believe this is where you spent your night.
You had skied about 3 or 4 kms farther than your planned route by that point.
To this day, I continue to off-road motorcycle those beautiful trails. Maybe 6 years ago I took dad snowmobiling back through those lakes and we stopped at the Merrill Lake tin camp. Dad asked me how I knew my way around the bush and lakes so well. I told him it all started when I was little boy in his old Willy's jeep on our fishing trips together.
He went inside the camp and signed the guest book. "I never expected to be back here again", dad said with a smile 🙂