In the summer we went fishing all the time. And we used to catch perch by the sack-full, right at the back of the mill. And on Sundays Mom & Dad & I would go down to the power dam at Pine Falls and cast our rods off there and catch Pickerel. That's what people did on a Sunday going out. My dad was a shift worker so he didn't have every Sunday off like some people did. As I grew larger Dad got himself a canoe and so we used to fish on the river in an old canoe. We would fill the deep freeze for the winter. We had fish twice a week all winter long, from what we caught in the river. And that went on right til my dad was 75 years old. We were always out there fishing.

 

Part of dad's holidays every year was two weeks in a canoe in eastern Manitoba. He and his buddies from work would go on that trip every year. That was when I was too young to go with him. They went up towards Bird Lake, and there were 5 portages on the Winnipeg River to get to Bird Lake.  Now they drive all the way to Bird River to the next lake. But they used to have to do 5 long Portages to get into Bird Lake and then go right into Ontario to fish. That was a vacation to go fishing. In my dad's case, and in my case with my motorcycle. You know, you gotta go see what's around the next corner. You gotta go. But then I used to go canoeing with dad all the time. That's all we had. We weren't rich enough to have a big boat. But that didn't matter. We went and caught our fish. We used to go deer hunting in that canoe too. We used to go everywhere in that canoe. That was the time where we didn't have big boats or fancy cars. We just had that old canoe. We put a set of rollers on the pickup truck, then we'd put the canoe one end up, and then roll it up on top of the truck. The put all the snaps on snap snap snap, then we were gone. Eventually we did get a bigger boat. I was in my teens when I didn't do as much fishing and hunting with my dad. Cuz young people that age don't really want to hang out with their dad do they. They're still getting into trouble. But even later in life, I still remember we went everywhere in that canoe, for days we'd go in that canoe. We caught fish, and duck hunted.

 

Duck hunting is exciting in a canoe. We'd push the canoe into the tall brown reeds and then tie those reeds to the side of the canoe. And then the canoe is stable. So you hide in there and then the ducks come flying by, and you shoot'em. Then you watch where they go and then after you get a few of them you untie the canoe and then go out there and get them. Then you go shoot some more. And then eventually you take them home and eat them. You have to take the feathers off them, take the guts out of them, and then you put them in the oven. Then you put a whole orange inside their cavity before you roast them.

 

We used to go once or twice a year to the Whiteshell to duck hunt. Mom used to cook some of them, and they're not great, but we ate ‘em. Dad & I would usually just cut the breasts out of them because they were just small creatures, not a lot of meat on them. But very lean meat. We'd put an orange in it, cover it with bacon, roast it. And as the story goes, after you take the duck out of the oven, you throw away the duck and eat the pan. Ha ha…That's the story. But in its day, people who used to live off the land, ate that. Of course, now in today's world it all comes out of a store. How much wild meat do we eat? Maybe a little bit more at this house than some houses, and maybe some houses eat a few more. Even roasting a local goose that you shoot here, it's a different taste and if you're not used to it, it might not be called wonderful. It's not like a roast chicken dinner. But Mom especially didn't like ducks. She didn't like anything we brought home to eat. But we ate it anyway.

 

Mom didn't eat much. I think my mom invented the word skinny. She was like a stick. But a very good cook. She'd cook all the wild meat. Yeah, I was a very lucky child, my mother was a good cook. Every meal was a great meal. Except for the turnips. In those days, you stayed at that kitchen table to eat your vegetables til bedtime before you were allowed to leave. In my day, there was none of this warm and fuzzy hug your kids and say it’s ok. It was 'kick ass' time. So we had to sit there til we ate our turnips. You know what I say about turnips... Turnip and puke. So when mom wasn't looking, you'd nicely roll up your turnips in a napkin, and throw them in the garbage. The spirit of getting away! In those days turnips weren't as tasty as they are now. They were very old. We're so fortunate now how well the vegetables are preserved and cooked. The turnips we ate were encased in wax and kept for a year before they actually got to the store. But oh well things are better now in that respect. We have better and fresher food, but we still gotta eat it.

 

We always hunted and ate deer, from the time I was 16 when dad bought me a rifle. Out we went and shot our deer. Every year we went, for a number of years. I used to leave my workplace to come home and go hunting with dad. And then I built a house here and every year we came here and dad hunted here, til he was in his 70s. And then if you got a moose,, man, that's a whole year of eating. Fills the deep freeze.

 

We would canoe all over the place. All over eastern Manitoba. Our favorite was we used to canoe on the Bird River or put in at Bird Lake. Then we'd have 20 portages to get to where we wanted to go fishin. It was just a week out. Campin out and staying in old trappers cabins cuz they used to be around. So you'd have a roof over your head. What's a Trapper you ask? Well a Trapper is a guy who traps furs. And he lives on the land and he traps all winter long. Well, he has more than one cabin because he has a trap line that goes around in a big circle. And every day he has to walk in around in this big circle to check his traps. And at the end of the day he'd end up at one of his trapper's shacks. 8x8, It was made out of logs, with a little tin stove in it, and nothin else. First they'd walk around in just snow shoes, then they'd take dog sleds, and then they'd take snowmobiles. Fur off of animals is only prime in the winter. Prime meaning once you take it off the animal it will stand very well to make clothing. SO we'd stay in these shacks, cuz it was better than staying outside. One time I was gathering newspapers off the floor of the shack to try to light a fire in the woodstove, and when I lit it, all of a sudden there was a BANG BANG BANG. I guess there were a bunch of 22 shells in the newspaper, so they were firing off inside the woodstove. Fortunately, a little 22 calibre bullet doesn't do much if it goes off inside a woodstove. It just goes bang, so I survived.

 

So dad & I would go hunting and fishing and eventually we ended up with a shack near Bissett. After the mine closed down for the hundredth time, my dad and his partner, who lived in Bissett and grew up there, put up this shack and that’s where we mostly went, no more hustlin’canoes. We had a boat, and we'd hunt and fish out of there. My dad hung out there a lot after he retired.

 

There was a period of time after I was 16 yrs old where I didn't go with dad. I was busy runnin’ around. ..I might have even been chasing girls too, ya never know... And I was busy getting a trade working at every other place. And then eventually came home and started fishin’ with dad again when he was hardly strong enough to get his own boat in the water.

 

There was this one time where dad had a heart attack in the middle of the lake. He was getting older, he was well into his eighties, and I picked him up one morning, well before the sun came up. And I said "Dad, what's wrong, you don't look well" He said "I don't feel well" "Oh, well, we'll go another day" "No we gotta go today". So, I loaded the old boat in the truck,  and I took him down to the river and put him in his boat. And we fished. We were in our spot on the Winnipeg River before the sun came up. And we were catching fish already. And I looked at him... "Dad, you don't look well" Didn't he fall in the bottom of the boat, head first. Plunk. He was a character because at the time, he was wearing his old clothes. Bundles of them. He looked like a big rag. That's how I learned to be so cheap. Anyway, I picked him up by the scruff of the neck, and I looked at him. He's turning blue. Well, I guess fishing is over for the day right? So I pulled up the fish, started the motor and headed in for shore, which wasn't very far, only about a half mile away. So then I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and he wasn't even talking to me, still pretty blue. But he was breathing. So I just rammed the boat up on shore, jumped out, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dragged him across the parking lot and threw him in the old truck, and took him to the hospital. And so they fiddled and farted with him in the hospital, he was layin’ there, his eyes were flashing. I went into the room, "hey dad, how's it goin’ in there now?" "well...." He said, "Garth, Where's the fish?" "They're in the boat dad, I picked them up. Don't you worry" And that was it. And me and him when he got out of the hospital, we ate those fish.

 

​

 

Chapter 4

The Great Outdoorsman

​In the summer we went fishing all the time. And we used to catch perch by the sack-full, right at the back of the mill. And on Sundays Mom & Dad & I would go down to the power dam at Pine Falls and cast our rods off there and catch Pickerel. That's what people did on a Sunday going out. My dad was a shift worker so he didn't have every Sunday off like some people did. As I grew larger Dad got himself a canoe and so we used to fish on the river in an old canoe. We would fill the deep freeze for the winter. We had fish twice a week all winter long, from what we caught in the river. And that went on right til my dad was 75 years old. We were always out there fishing.

 

Part of dad's holidays every year was two weeks in a canoe in eastern Manitoba. He and his buddies from work would go on that trip every year. That was when I was too young to go with him. They went up towards Bird Lake, and there were 5 portages on the Winnipeg River to get to Bird Lake.  Now they drive all the way to Bird River to the next lake. But they used to have to do 5 long Portages to get into Bird Lake and then go right into Ontario to fish. That was a vacation to go fishing. In my dad's case, and in my case with my motorcycle. You know, you gotta go see what's around the next corner. You gotta go. But then I used to go canoeing with dad all the time. That's all we had. We weren't rich enough to have a big boat. But that didn't matter. We went and caught our fish. We used to go deer hunting in that canoe too. We used to go everywhere in that canoe. That was the time where we didn't have big boats or fancy cars. We just had that old canoe. We put a set of rollers on the pickup truck, then we'd put the canoe one end up, and then roll it up on top of the truck. The put all the snaps on snap snap snap, then we were gone. Eventually we did get a bigger boat. I was in my teens when I didn't do as much fishing and hunting with my dad. Cuz young people that age don't really want to hang out with their dad do they. They're still getting into trouble. But even later in life, I still remember we went everywhere in that canoe, for days we'd go in that canoe. We caught fish, and duck hunted.

 

Duck hunting is exciting in a canoe. We'd push the canoe into the tall brown reeds and then tie those reeds to the side of the canoe. And then the canoe is stable. So you hide in there and then the ducks come flying by, and you shoot'em. Then you watch where they go and then after you get a few of them you untie the canoe and then go out there and get them. Then you go shoot some more. And then eventually you take them home and eat them. You have to take the feathers off them, take the guts out of them, and then you put them in the oven. Then you put a whole orange inside their cavity before you roast them.

 

We used to go once or twice a year to the Whiteshell to duck hunt. Mom used to cook some of them, and they're not great, but we ate ‘em. Dad & I would usually just cut the breasts out of them because they were just small creatures, not a lot of meat on them. But very lean meat. We'd put an orange in it, cover it with bacon, roast it. And as the story goes, after you take the duck out of the oven, you throw away the duck and eat the pan. Ha ha…That's the story. But in its day, people who used to live off the land, ate that. Of course, now in today's world it all comes out of a store. How much wild meat do we eat? Maybe a little bit more at this house than some houses, and maybe some houses eat a few more. Even roasting a local goose that you shoot here, it's a different taste and if you're not used to it, it might not be called wonderful. It's not like a roast chicken dinner. But Mom especially didn't like ducks. She didn't like anything we brought home to eat. But we ate it anyway.

 

Mom didn't eat much. I think my mom invented the word skinny. She was like a stick. But a very good cook. She'd cook all the wild meat. Yeah, I was a very lucky child, my mother was a good cook. Every meal was a great meal. Except for the turnips. In those days, you stayed at that kitchen table to eat your vegetables til bedtime before you were allowed to leave. In my day, there was none of this warm and fuzzy hug your kids and say it’s ok. It was 'kick ass' time. So we had to sit there til we ate our turnips. You know what I say about turnips... Turnip and puke. So when mom wasn't looking, you'd nicely roll up your turnips in a napkin, and throw them in the garbage. The spirit of getting away! In those days turnips weren't as tasty as they are now. They were very old. We're so fortunate now how well the vegetables are preserved and cooked. The turnips we ate were encased in wax and kept for a year before they actually got to the store. But oh well things are better now in that respect. We have better and fresher food, but we still gotta eat it.

 

We always hunted and ate deer, from the time I was 16 when dad bought me a rifle. Out we went and shot our deer. Every year we went, for a number of years. I used to leave my workplace to come home and go hunting with dad. And then I built a house here and every year we came here and dad hunted here, til he was in his 70s. And then if you got a moose,, man, that's a whole year of eating. Fills the deep freeze.

 

We would canoe all over the place. All over eastern Manitoba. Our favorite was we used to canoe on the Bird River or put in at Bird Lake. Then we'd have 20 portages to get to where we wanted to go fishin. It was just a week out. Campin out and staying in old trappers cabins cuz they used to be around. So you'd have a roof over your head. What's a Trapper you ask? Well a Trapper is a guy who traps furs. And he lives on the land and he traps all winter long. Well, he has more than one cabin because he has a trap line that goes around in a big circle. And every day he has to walk in around in this big circle to check his traps. And at the end of the day he'd end up at one of his trapper's shacks. 8x8, It was made out of logs, with a little tin stove in it, and nothin else. First they'd walk around in just snow shoes, then they'd take dog sleds, and then they'd take snowmobiles. Fur off of animals is only prime in the winter. Prime meaning once you take it off the animal it will stand very well to make clothing. SO we'd stay in these shacks, cuz it was better than staying outside. One time I was gathering newspapers off the floor of the shack to try to light a fire in the woodstove, and when I lit it, all of a sudden there was a BANG BANG BANG. I guess there were a bunch of 22 shells in the newspaper, so they were firing off inside the woodstove. Fortunately, a little 22 calibre bullet doesn't do much if it goes off inside a woodstove. It just goes bang, so I survived.

 

So dad & I would go hunting and fishing and eventually we ended up with a shack near Bissett. After the mine closed down for the hundredth time, my dad and his partner, who lived in Bissett and grew up there, put up this shack and that’s where we mostly went, no more hustlin’canoes. We had a boat, and we'd hunt and fish out of there. My dad hung out there a lot after he retired.

 

There was a period of time after I was 16 yrs old where I didn't go with dad. I was busy runnin’ around. ..I might have even been chasing girls too, ya never know... And I was busy getting a trade working at every other place. And then eventually came home and started fishin’ with dad again when he was hardly strong enough to get his own boat in the water.

 

There was this one time where dad had a heart attack in the middle of the lake. He was getting older, he was well into his eighties, and I picked him up one morning, well before the sun came up. And I said "Dad, what's wrong, you don't look well" He said "I don't feel well" "Oh, well, we'll go another day" "No we gotta go today". So, I loaded the old boat in the truck,  and I took him down to the river and put him in his boat. And we fished. We were in our spot on the Winnipeg River before the sun came up. And we were catching fish already. And I looked at him... "Dad, you don't look well" Didn't he fall in the bottom of the boat, head first. Plunk. He was a character because at the time, he was wearing his old clothes. Bundles of them. He looked like a big rag. That's how I learned to be so cheap. Anyway, I picked him up by the scruff of the neck, and I looked at him. He's turning blue. Well, I guess fishing is over for the day right? So I pulled up the fish, started the motor and headed in for shore, which wasn't very far, only about a half mile away. So then I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and he wasn't even talking to me, still pretty blue. But he was breathing. So I just rammed the boat up on shore, jumped out, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, dragged him across the parking lot and threw him in the old truck, and took him to the hospital. And so they fiddled and farted with him in the hospital, he was layin’ there, his eyes were flashing. I went into the room, "hey dad, how's it goin’ in there now?" "well...." He said, "Garth, Where's the fish?" "They're in the boat dad, I picked them up. Don't you worry" And that was it. And me and him when he got out of the hospital, we ate those fish.

 

​

 

Chapter 4

The Great Outdoorsman