THIS IS A SHAREWARE TRIAL PROJECT

THIS IS A SHAREWARE TRIAL PROJECT

    IT IS NOT "FREEWARE" WE NEED YOUR SUPPORT TO CONTINUE




                          100 WEST BY 53 NORTH

                                by

                           Jim Prentice

      Copyright 1990, Jim Prentice, Brandon, Manitoba, CANADA





      North of 53. A magic phrase. Spoken, mumbled or thought
 inwardly by thousands of souls venturing northward. An
 imaginary line, shown only on maps and labelled 53 degrees.
 It's presence indicated to highway travellers by road side
 signs.
      A division of territory as distinct in the mind as any
 international border.
      If you have not been "North of 53", you have not been
 north!
      Travellers and writers, poets and pilots, have
 contributed to the lore of the north. The rigors of life in
 the bush are told in tales of man eating mosquitoes, of
 murderous hordes of black flies, of the lumps of flesh
 carried away by the giant bull dog flies.
      The stories of record breaking trout, walleye, and pike
 are legion. There are tales of sights and sounds heard deep
 in the spruce forests:
      The crashing of moose, tearing through brush and
 breaking down trees. The drumming of grouse. The incessant
 hum of insects. The cackling quackery of ducks feeding on
 quiet ponds and placid bays.
      Once heard, the intermittent song of the loon is never
 forgotten. It's voice the signature of authenticity of a
 northern scene.
      If the wildlife in the northern bush land seems
 different than found elsewhere, so is the life of man. It
 takes a special breed of person to live in the north. The
 farther one travels, the more this becomes apparent. The
 Southerner, whether on his first or fiftieth trip north of
 53, never really becomes aware of the implications of
 northern living.
      Generally, the owners of "cottages" on southern lakes
 have more amenities at hand for a weekend of "roughing it"
 than most northern dwellers have on a year round basis.
      The modern cabin on a lake shore near a large
 metropolitan center is equipped with electric service, a
 telephone, paved roads, natural gas pipelines, and cable
 television.
      Nearby are services that provide food, fuel, repairs,
 and entertainment. Drivein theaters and fast food chains
 abound. Waterfront businesses have docks built for those
 arriving by boat to do their shopping, laundry, or to
 transfer suitcases from the family car. The local merchants
 deliver goods to the cabin by road or by water.
 Entrepreneurs make a businesss of servicing and maintaining
 cabins during the owners absence in the off seasons.
      Most of these "cottages", whether on the lake shore, or
 located five well paved streets from the water, rival the
 homes of many city dwellers. These lake side communities,
 although seasonal, differ little from the urban living from
 which they offer escape.
      Look at an average northern community. Study and
 compare the standards with those of urban areas and their
 nearby lake side retreats.
      There are no local bus services. If the car doesn't
 start you either walk, or call a taxi. Yes, most areas do
 have a taxi service of one kind or another. Even if it's a
 ride in the back of some one's pick up truck.
      Mail delivery is unknown. A pleasant stroll in
 midsummer is contrasted by an ordeal in life threatening
 conditions during winter.
      House to house delivery of milk and bread is
 nonexistent. Perhaps newspapers are delivered, but it
 requires a family effort, especially in winter.
      Bus, rail and scheduled air services to nearby
 settlements is severely restricted, if available at all.
 Many small taxi companies exist because of the large fares
 collected in the transport of natives to and from the
 reserves.
      Although diminishing in recent years, the bushpilot and
 charter aircraft still play a large role in northern
 transportation.
      The pilots of these small aircraft learn to live with
 conditions that would keep their southern colleagues on the
 ground.
      In summer they fly float equipped aircraft. They are
 busy hauling trappers, fishermen, freight, fish, furs, and
 supplies to and from the reserves, fish camps, traplines,
 logging areas, and small settlements.
      In the fall, when the ice is too thin for skis, yet too
 thick for floats, they change the aircraft to wheel
 equipment. Changing to skis when ice conditions permit.
      Winter flying presents problems that most pilots never
 hear of. Temperatures exceeding 40 below zero, blowing snow,
 ice crystals, and whiteouts. All these challenge the pilot
 in their daily work. The preheating of engines to coax them
 to life. The problem of congealed oil in propeller pitch
 mechanisms, and fueling with super cooled gasoline are
 regular chores.
      The ski-equipped aircraft must be tied down with ropes
 that are frozen into holes in the four foot ice. The skis
 must be lifted or run onto boards or poles to prevent them
 freezing into the ice.
      Pilots and passengers must wear heavy arctic clothing
 as few aircraft have cabin heat systems capable of coping
 with the cold. Aircraft batteries are removed at the end of
 each day of flying to ensure maximum efficiency the next
 day. Wings and engines are covered to stop the ingress of
 snow and the build up of frost on the flight surfaces.
 Gasoline fueled blow-pots are often carried to provide
 engine preheat to ensure starting. The oil in these engines
 gets so thick at minus 40 to 50 degrees that the engine
 cannot be turned. This writer has done chin-ups on the
 propeller of a coldsoaked Cessna which flew the next day
 after preheating.
      The northern airports lack any degree of services in
 comparison to those farther south. Fuel is usually available
 if you can locate the operator. Some of the larger
 communities may have a pay telephone at the airstrip, but
 the normal procedure is to buzz the town on arrival. This
 lets the people know you are landing and usually someone
 will head out to the strip to meet you.
      Unless you are a regular customer, all transactions for
 fuel and oil are on a cash basis. Cheques are nearly useless
 in a village without a bank. Credit to a stranger is
 foolhardy.
      During the grip of winter, the snowmobile is the major
 mode of transport in all but the largest of settlements. In
 many places that do have roads in winter, vehicles are left
 running 24 hours a day. If allowed to get cold, it may take
 many hours of effort to restart balky engines.
      Most northern residents enjoy the winter months. The
 change  in seasons brings on a change in activities. The
 boats and motors are stored away with the lawnmowers and
 garden chairs. The snowmobiles are tuned up, ice-fishing
 shacks are towed onto lakes and rivers. The blades of gas-
 powered ice augers are sharpened. The fishermen flock to
 their favorite spots and drill holes through ice up to four
 feet thick.
      Whether in the comfort of a shack with a woodburning
 stove glowing in the center, or huddled on the ice in the
 lee of a snowmobile, they normally take a good catch.
 Walleye, trout, pike, tullibee and whitefish as well as
 perch, burbot, catfish and bass are plentiful. The most
 popular bait is minnows, some use sucker-belly, or net bags
 of trout eggs. Others use metal spoons or large bucktail
 flies, lead-headed jigging lures, or just snelled hooks. As
 in summer, the best bait is whatever the fish are taking at
 the time.
      Moose hunting is another favorite sport, especially in
 the colder weather when the moose are on the move for food
 and warmth. The hunter faces problems similar to the pilot
 with his equipment. The extreme temperatures require that
 his snowmachine be kept in top condition if it is to start
 after a day of hunting. Once started it must be dependable.
 A life and death situation could develop if the machine
 breaks down while 40 or 50 miles from home.
      Even his rifle requires special care. A bolt covered
 with heavy grease will freeze solid in the cold. The firing
 pin may not move when struck by the hammer. Many a moose and
 bear lived to face another day because a hunter's weapon
 failed to operate.
      Other outdoor activities include cross country skiing,
 snowmobiling, and racing dog teams. These sports are
 included in the many winter festivals held each year.
      As spring arrives, the winter equipment is stored away
 and once again the boats and motors are brought out. Wagers
 are made on the time and date of the break up of river ice.
 The snow blowers, shovels, and skidoo suits are replaced
 with lawn mowers, rakes, and bathing suits.
      The pussy willows blossom. The ducks and geese return
 from their winter feeding grounds in the southern U.S.A..
 The frogs begin to croak and the first battalions of
 mosquitoes are hatched.
      From the winter lows of 40 below zero, the mercury
 climbs upward. The summer highs reach the 90's, sometimes
 100 degrees. A fantastic differential of 140 degrees between
 seasons.
      Through the seasons, day to day life continues. The
 sport and commercial fishing, the trapping and hunting. The
 road building, home construction, and landscaping. The
 pilots fly passengers and freight. They fly patrols on
 hundreds of miles of hydro-electric transmission lines and
 forest fire patrols. At regular intervals they carry
 conservationists doing animal census. They transport tanks
 of baby fish to restock the lakes. The seriously ill or
 injured are taken to medical centers by MEDEVAC flights.
      Other flights carry fishermen, and tourists.
 Prospectors vie with geologists, botanists, biologists,
 entomologists, and surveyors. All use the aircraft to see,
 touch, smell, measure and record the wonders of the north.
      The opening day of each hunting or fishing season is
 heralded by the arrival of recreational vehicles of all
 types. Trailers and vans, motorhomes and 4X4's arrive daily.
 They carry or tow boats and motors, bicycles, motorcycles,
 and ATVs. The "first-timers" fill the private and provincial
 government campgrounds. The more experienced and
 adventuresome travel logging roads and bush trails to
         favorite lakes, rivers, and streams.
      In town, the streets and parking lots are crammed with
 vehicles and equipment.
      Gasoline, food, booze, and fishing equipment are sold
 in great quantities.
      The hotels are full. Reservations were made months in
 advance, some were made prior to leaving the year before.
      For a few short weeks, during the prime spring fishing
 period, every available camping spot is occupied.
      As the summer wears on, the sportsmen recede and
 tourists take their place. The cycle repeats annually.
      Each year a number of travellers arrive in privately
 owned aircraft. Piper Cub to Beechcraft. Taildragger to
 bizjet. Most have been here before, to some it is a new
 experience.
      To a southern pilot, a trip north can be unnerving.
 Accustomed to flying over a network of roads and railroad
 tracks, always in contact with an airport or navigation aid,
 they are seldom prepared for the realities of northern
 flight.
      Airports are hundreds of miles apart. In most cases
 there are no roads or railways for navigation. At lower
 altitudes, voice contact with an airport is an exception
 rather than the rule.
      Flight plans of course are mandatory. Map reading is
 difficult. There are so many lakes, many of them the same
 basic shape that a sharp eye must be kept on the map.
      For seaplanes, the ever present danger of logs, rocks,
 and reefs is amplified by the distance from civilization.
 Flights must be carefully planned around suitable refueling
 facilities.
      The pilot of a private seaplane is in his own element
 here. The pleasure of landing on a remote lake, its quiet
 green waters undisturbed by others, is indescribable.
          After securing the aircraft and setting up camp, the
 true beauty of the north can be enjoyed.
      Waters teeming with fish, are surrounded by wildlife of
 all types. The smells of wood smoke and coffee mingling with
 the sound of fresh fish sizzling in the frypan.
       The songs of bird life. The cry of the loon. The
 evening wail of coyotes and wolves. The whistle of wings as
 ducks, geese, ravens, hawks, and eagles travel down the
 shoreline. On the lakes are the wakes of passing beaver and
 muskrat. The occasional warning smack of a beaver's tail on
 the water as he senses danger.
      The varied hues of trees, evergreen and deciduous. The
 colors of windflowers. The taste of fresh wild strawberries,
 raspberries, and blueberries.
      The excitement of an evening sky dancing with a
 dazzling display as the Aurora Borealis appears. The
 "Northern Lights" are surrounded by stars, incredibly
 brilliant against the black, smog free heavens.
      Thoughts in the night.... Lying in your tent you hear
 rustling noises. A twig snaps. Mouse or rabbit? Moose or
 bear? Is the food secure? You visualize the food bundle,
 securely tied to a tree branch, high above the ground.
      The wind is rising, you can hear small waves breaking
 on the shore. Is the airplane alright? Should you go and
 check it?
      What will the fishing be like in the morning? Will you
 get another chance to land the big Walleye that you lost to
 day. Or a bigger one?
      A lone mosquito buzzes your ear. Somehow he has
 penetrated the netting of your tent.
      The cry of a loon is the last thing you hear. You sleep
 peacefully until the songs of early morning bird life
 announce the start of a new day.
      But for the constant buzz-sting-slap of insect warfare,
 you might be in heaven.
      Far to the south, your friends and neighbors are also
 facing a new day.
      Howling dogs. Screaming kids. Squealing tires. The wail
 of police and fire sirens. The reek of diesel fumes from
 passing trucks and busses. Telephones jangle and typewriters
 clatter. The work piles up.
       Dissatisfied customers grumble. The boss looms
 threateningly.
      They jostle in line for a bus, then for coffee, then
 for lunch. They fight traffic to get home.
      The neighbor's dog has left a deposit on the lawn. The
 children's toys are cluttering the driveway.
      They sit down to a TV dinner and discuss your crazy
 fishing trip.
      The day to day life in the north does have it's
 problems; if you happen to own a car for which there is no
 local dealer, you may have to order parts from hundreds of
 miles away and have them shipped in by bus or plane.
 Meanwhile the car sits. The same applies to appliances,
 tools, and so on.
      There may not be a TV repairman in town. You must send
 the set out for repairs, or, buy a new one. By mail order of
 course. Providing your community has a TV station to begin
 with.
      Most northern communities have only one radio station.
 The CBC. Some are augmented by local programming.
      Other services may be difficult to obtain. For example,
 a veterinarian may visit weekly, or monthly, or not at all.
 Medical facilities are usually present to some extent, but
 any serious illness or injury may require a MEDEVAC flight
 to a distant city.
      Fresh meat and produce become more of a problem in the
 more remote areas. If road or rail service exists the
 problem is not too acute. However, in many communities, the
 only access is by air. In this event the shipment of
 perishable commodities is dependant on space available on
 the aircraft. The subsequent prices reflect the added cost
 of the product.
      On the subject of costs, heating a home with propane
 may be five to seven times the cost of natural gas as in
 southern homes. Food, gasoline, clothing, and appliances,
 are considerably more expensive in the north. Of course the
 more remote the location the higher the price.
      On a trip into the high arctic a few years ago the
 prices ran like this:

      Hotel bed $100.00 per night,  per man

      Breakfast (2 eggs, 2 toast,
        2 bacon, and 2 coffee)
        $12.00

      Avgas $7.00 per gallon

      But then, when you are 250 miles north of the arctic
 circle, you expect to pay higher prices.
      Why then, do people live in the north?
      For the natives it is a matter of ancestry. For many
 whites it is also ancestry. To some, they were born there.
 Their parents having moved north for employment reasons.
      Some are transients, following construction jobs and
 other seasonal employment. Others, working for large
 corporations or government, are transferred north as a job
 requirement.
      Life in the north is definitely different. A person
 accustomed to life in a large city may  not endure the
 rigors involved. They give it up and move south.
      Many people, such as myself, move north for an extended
 period. In our case it was 10 years. We adapted to the way
 of life. We enjoyed the hunting and fishing.
      Owning our own aircraft, we were able to travel more
 independently than our neighbors. We enjoyed all the great
 outdoors had to offer. We learned to adjust to the lack of
 night life, and other amenities.
      When 10 years had passed, and our children were adults,
 we took stock of our situation.
      We were stuck in a rut. The same rut that most of the
 townspeople were in. Our lives centered around hunting,
 fishing, the Post Office, and the TV set.
      We decided it was a case of moving now, or possibly
 remaining in the north for the rest of our lives.

      We left in February of 1984!

      We miss the delicious fresh fish from cold clear lakes.
 We miss the taste of thick moose steaks, moosemeat sausages,
 fresh smoked lake trout, and pancakes with fresh, wild
 blueberries. We miss the freedom afforded by a short flight
 to a secluded lake shore.
      The fishing and hunting within 10 miles of our northern
 home was superb. The friendship and camaraderie of our
 neighbors was great.
      We are happy to have had the opportunity to experience
 northern life. But, as we approached the midpoint of our
 lives, we wanted to return to civilization. To pick up where
 we had left off. To enjoy the supermarkets, and shopping
 malls, the fancy restaurants, and gourmet foods. We wanted
 to be closer to the center of things, a few hours drive from
 a major city rather than an all day trip.
      We returned to old friends, and new neighbors. New
 stores, and home mail delivery. Lower prices. Broader
 choices. More to do and see. More TV channels. Several radio
 stations, and newspapers.
      We can drive east or west besides north and south. We
 can dance to live music and eat in restaurants of many
 nationalities.

      In short, we are back to civilization

                          THE END