Editorially speaking…
An unsung jewel is the Esquimalt Naval & Military Museum at Naden, Canadian Forces Base Esquimalt. It’s open seven days a week (10-3:30), including statutory holidays. Admission is by donation.
As the son of a career Royal Canadian Navy man, I feel almost at home during my too infrequent visits. Almost every which way I turn, there’s an artifact on display—a bell, a crest, a model, a photo—of one of my father’s ships. About the only one that I didn’t notice this past Sunday was his last ship, the light cruiser HMCS Ontario.
A turn-of-the-last-century diver’s hard hat. You’re sure to have seen it in movies, with the diver walking the sea bottom while his air hoses and lifeline trailed upward to a tender where crew mates manually turned the wheels of his air pump. And God help him if his airlines got tangled or, worse, cut. —Esquimalt Naval and Military Museum
I found myself acting as a pseudo tour guide, Sunday, as I explained various things beyond what was mentioned by the various exhibit signage to Belinda.
After all, I grew up with this stuff, first as our family historian, beginning with my first collection, my father’s naval memorabilia when I was nine, then three years in the Royal Canadian Sea Cadets. Not to mention all those comic books, magazines, movies, television shows, books that I read before, finally, conducting firsthand interviews with RCN veterans and writing their stories for others to enjoy.
The Cowichan Valley Citizen has asked me to write the forthcoming Remembrance Day edition, a labour of love of mine for the past quarter-century.
So, time again to delve into my archives, the newspaper clippings and the online copy that I’ve downloaded throughout the year. It’s never a matter of having enough materials—quite the contrary, in fact. Rather, I like to go with a theme instead of a grab-bag of mixed subjects and, having done this so many times before, it becomes ever more difficult to select that common thread.
Ah well, I have a few weeks yet.
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A typically great Leonard Frank photo of the sled of a logging donkey under construction. It’s finished shape was achieved by broad axe, by the way. —Author’s Collection
This outstanding photo turned up at a local flea market, years ago. I’ve since learned that it was taken at the British Properties, Vancouver, by Leonard Frank (1870-1944), one of B.C.’s best industrial photographers.
When I recently posted it on Facebook, it drew favourable response. Over our years of bushwhacking, we’ve found several old skids abandoned, but this is the best shot I’ve seen of one being built. Those in the bush, of course, have rotted to the point that young trees are growing out of them—Mother Nature, the great recycler at work.
Surely, everyone has heard the term, ‘whistle punk.” Well, that stems directly from logging with donkeys.
The best FB comment came from Stan Thomas:
“...They moved these yarders or donkey[s]...across country that was very steep. It’s just amazing what they would do. My Dad worked on one for about a year. He decided that wasn’t for him.
“The power they put out were unbelievable, Dad said. The big old-growth timber logs would just jump off the ground. The power and quick power [of steam] has never been equalled by diesel fuel...The chokers [cables] they used were inch and a quarter. They were amazing.
One of the first donkeys on the VL&M (Victoria Lumber &M Manufacturing Company) in the Chemainus woods, about the turn-of-the-last century. —Courtesy Hilary Everitt
“I [saw] one just parked in the middle of the mountains just left when they quite using them. Just a part of the logging history.
“The last logging job I worked on, we had a rigged tree and yarder on a sled [with a] big diesel engine. That was in 1972. Up the McKinsey River on Bolder Creek, that’s where I ended my logging work.”
Just like the big trees, we’re losing our old loggers and their wealth of stories.
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