Honouring Our Lifeblood

Blood they say, is the gift of life. They also say... we all have it in us to give and many people in our area are generous givers. I saw that first hand last month when I was asked to be the MC for the Canadian Blood Services Donor Awards Ceremony at Lily Lake Pavilion in Saint John. This is an annual event honouring those people who have reached milestone donation levels of 50, 75, 100, 150, 200, 300, 400 and even 500 blood donations. In addition a bone marrow donor and some of the organization's community partners were also honoured. It was an amazing evening of giving.

These regular, long time donors recognized at the awards are all truly exceptional individuals. You could see that in every one of them who came up to accept their award. The highlight of the evening had to be the presentation to Kenneth Gould, the second New Brunswicker ever to have donated blood an astonishing 500 times. The day he made that 500th donation he showed up at the clinic wearing a tuxedo. Ken received a group hug on awards night from all the staff present. In fact it was clear that all of these long time donors had developed a special kind of relationship with the staff at Blood Services. That only makes sense because to donate that often you make a lot of visits to the centre and you do become, in a sense, part of the family. That was evident at the Lily Lake Pavilion.

I started donating blood again about two years ago. For a long time I was under the impression I couldn't donate because of the medication I was taking for asthma. It turns out that used to be the case but isn't any longer. In fact the rules regarding who can give are changing constantly. The chances are pretty good that you are eligible to give blood. Giving blood isn't easy for everyone. Even for these regular donors it still takes a commitment of time and even if they don't admit it, some personal discomfort. I don't think anyone really enjoys having their finger pricked to test their blood, or answering all those personal health and lifestyle questions required before every donation. And getting a needle put in your vein and bleeding into a bag for the next ten minutes isn't like watching your favorite TV show in an easy chair. Personally I get freaked out by having my blood pressure taken. That tight squeezing feeling of the cuff around my arm drives me crazy and my blood pressure up. Sometimes it takes two or three tries before they get a reading low enough to allow me to donate. The truth is I'm not very good dealing with anything that has to do with blood. It makes me uncomfortable. And yet I'm willing to put up with it on occasion because I know it's the right thing to do. I always feel great after I've given blood.

My donations are just a drop in the bucket or bag, compared to what these regular donors honoured at the awards ceremony have given over the years. I just can't imagine 500, 300 or even 50 donations. But people do it. We can all do it. Even just giving blood a few times makes a difference. It's all about saving lives and we can play a part in that by just rolling up our sleeve.

So my congratulations and thanks go out to all the blood donors named at the awards. That night I made a public commitment to donate on a regular basis. It used to be easier to do because clinics were held regularly in Grand Bay-Westfield. You got a call to set up an appointment and just showed up at either the legion or the middle school. But that bi-monthly clinic was canceled recently and hasn't been rescheduled. I hope it comes back because that makes it a lot easier to give regularly but even if it doesn't I'm going to try to go to the clinic in Saint John every time I'm eligible to give blood again.

When you really think about it... donating blood on a regular basis is probably the best gift you can give to others.

All About Watches

I got thinking about watches and timepieces recently. It started when I tried to find a new strap for my old Timex watch. It's one of those Ironman digital watches. I've had two or three of them over the years and they're great. They're cheap and just about indestructible. Even the batteries in them don't seem to wear out. As the old commercials used to say, 'They can take a lickin and keep on tickin'. But eventually the watch strap will break and that's what happened to me. I had a difficult time finding the right strap because Timex make a lot of different styles of these watches. I finally found the correct one in a store and tried to attach it to the watch. They had the proper tools and I've done this before. It's usually a simple procedure. But I couldn't get the thing to stay on. The clerk behind the counter tried and failed. I took the new strap to another jewelery store and they attempted it and failed. I don't know why the darn thing won't stay attached but it just won't. I still haven't given up though.

So I had a watch that worked but no strap to keep it on my wrist. I found another watch but the battery was dead. It was then I discovered some old and almost forgotten wind up wrist watches. One was an almost original Mickey Mouse watch. I say 'almost original' because I don't think it dates back to the late 50's or even the 60's but I'm pretty sure I picked it up sometime in the early 70's. I wound it up and amazingly it worked. Old Mickey kept pretty good time too, for about 6 hours and then he got tired and just stopped. I found another old wind up watch too. I got this one in the late 70's and I think it was actually a pretty expensive watch at the time. I'm not sure where this one came from but I remember I picked it up from a guy I worked with for just a few bucks. This is a diving watch made by Orator with all kinds of extra goodies including a stopwatch and it says it has 17 jewels, whatever that means. I did some checking and discovered that the jewels used in watches are usually rubies, sapphires, garnets or diamonds. After 1900 most of the rubies were actually synthetic. Jewels are used because they can be polished and made very smooth and they let metal watch parts slide easily. They're also extremely hard and don't wear down very quickly. Usually the more jewels in a watch the better it is. My old diving watch has only seventeen jewels but it still keeps good time. It's thirty years old and hasn't been used for at least the last twenty years and the thing is still accurate. It's a cool watch and I'm wearing it again. The only problem is it weights a lot compared to my light and battery powered digital wrist watch.

During my search for watches I also discovered two old pocket watches. Unfortunately neither of them still work or at least I can't get them to go. One is probably from the 19th century and when you open the back it says 'Remontoir'. I did some research and that can either be the make of the watch or the French word used to describe a type of Swiss spring mechanism used in the watch. There is also an engraving on the inside cover that I can't quite make out. I have no idea where this watch came from. The other is a newer vintage pocket watch made by Westclox. I found out this particular model was first made in 1932 but I don't know how old this watch actually is. Either way they're great to have and look at even if I don't know the story behind them.

I was reading an article about pocket watches and found out how important they were for railroaders from about 1891 to 1969. The CNR even issued a standard pocket watch to all railroad employees that had to meet a long list of requirements. Each watch had to have at least 17 jewels and was checked for accuracy once a month by the railroad approved watchmaker. This was done of course for safety reasons because train traffic was controlled by a time schedule and two trains traveling on the same track could have disastrous consequences.

So now that I've discovered an old wrist watch that keeps such accurate time I'm doing something again that I haven't done in many years. I'm winding a watch by hand. And you know there's something therapeutic about taking the time every morning and evening to simply wind a watch. I can't explain it but it just feels right. Oh and about that broken watch strap that started all this .... I finally got it replaced. After numerous failed attempts by myself and others to attach the new strap, I took it to a pro, jeweler Mike Hamm on the west side. He had the strap on in about 30 seconds.

Tidy Trails and Turtle Mountain

(This is the latest column in River Valley News. Just today my wife and I were walking along this trail and were almost run over by two older kids on bikes. Bicycles are not allowed on the trail. It's clearly marked as such. These kids were racing as fast as they could up and down the hills and around the bends. We got out of the way just in time. It was around 5:00 pm when the trail starts getting crowded with people walking after supper with young kids and pets. Someone could get seriously hurt. These kids on the bikes are old enough and should know better. )

It's nice that we can once again walk along the River Valley Drive Trail through Grand Bay-Westfield. The wet areas are drying out and the town has added more crushed gravel to parts of the trail, making the base underfoot smoother and more secure. We can witness the approach of summer with every step we take. More leaves are budding every day and plants of all kinds are poking out of the ground. It's one of the nicest places to be in town at this time of year.

That is until you turn your attention toward the train tracks. Those trees and bushes that were needlessly mowed down last fall are still lying where they fell. Now I know the railway has to trim brush along the line for reasons of safety. But it's clear in many places along the trail they overdid it, knocking down fairly large trees standing well back from the tracks. Even if this was the standard sized path they normally clear along the rail line, surely they could have exercised some caution and common sense here. This is an urban area with backyards on one side and a popular walking trail on the other, a trail that already has a limited buffer of trees and brush between it and the tracks. It's sad to look at what they've done, but it's done. We can't put those trees back. It'll take many years for nature to repair the damage.

But some of the harm that was done can be corrected by at least clearing up the mess left behind. And I have some good news on that front. I put a call into the Irving owned NB Southern Railroad to find out if they had any intention of cleaning up the slash. The answer is yes. A company spokesperson got back to me and said they will be sending a crew out to do the work within a few weeks. Now I don't know if this was the company's plan all along or if my inquiry prompted them to take action. Or perhaps someone in authority from the town contacted them and asked for a clean up. I some how doubt that because when I called the town about it last fall, they didn't seem very concerned. Either way, I'm delighted to hear a crew from NB Southern will be coming to pick up the scrub lying on both sides of the track. It'll make the loss of the trees easier to take if we don't see them left strewn about and rotting on the ground.


While we're on the topic of trails, I had a wonderful hike to Turtle Mountain the other day. A group from the Saint John Outdoor Enthusiast's Club was supposed to go but canceled at the last minute because they were told the road was wet and messy. That wasn't the case at all. The road and trail are in great shape, except for a few wet areas that you would expect to find at this time of year. The day was sunny and not too warm, perfect for the long 14 mile hike to and from the mountain. I've done that hike many times and skied the trail in the winter and I've never seen much wildlife. However this time we were treated to a wildlife fiesta. On the way in and again on the way out we saw fresh moose tracks. It turns out we were chasing two moose ahead of us on the trail and we didn't realize it. We were fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of a big bull and a juvenile. We also got scared by a partridge and saw another one running across the tail and we scared a large snake sunning himself on a rock. The wildlife was a nice bonus to what turned out to be probably the best hike I've ever had to Turtle Mountain. It's a full day hike but well worth the effort, especially if you've never gone.

Spring Things

It seems like winter is finally loosening its grip. I'll even admit it's been long this year. You probably know if you read this column that I'm one of those rare people who actually enjoy the winter. It's been a fabulous season for skiing and I can't seem to stop. The snow still lingers and calls out to us addicted types. It was warm and sunny yesterday afternoon as I raked the lawn but earlier that morning I had been to Poley Mountain with another snow loving buddy and we skied the now closed slopes. It's a great work out walking up that hill carrying our skis. I know some of you are shaking your head and wondering about our sanity. The weekend before we were in the Chic Choc Mountains of Gaspe for some late season telemark turns and we found ourselves skiing on mountain tops through about 12 cm of fresh snow. Even closer to home, Crabbe Mountain near Fredericton has so much snow it plans to stay open until the beginning of May, if weather and willing skiers permit. That's the thing, at this time of year people aren't very interested in skiing any more. They want to move on to summery things. I do too. I want to get out kayaking and hiking but it's tough when the snow is still there tantalising us. Even when I'm raking the lawn I have to look at two small piles of snow still clinging to life in the shadiest part of the yard. So it's hard saying goodbye to a stubborn winter that's been a lot of fun but I know it's time to turn the page and move into another season.

But the remnants of winter still have a way of haunting us. People living near the water are especially concerned what the spring may bring. There is so much snow still on the ground up north that folks living in low lying areas beside the St. John river are worried about a high freshet this year. For good reason too. All that snow melt has to go somewhere. Here in Grand Bay-Westfield the Riverside Park area seems to get hit the hardest. It's been about three years now since the area was last flooded by high water. People are most concerned about a quick melt accompanied by heavy rain. So far nights have remained cold, easing the flow of water into the river. Everyone including the provincial EMO is hoping that continues. Nevertheless people in Riverside Park are moving things to higher ground and preparing for the worst. We'll all be watching the water levels over the next few weeks.


Something else people are watching is the progress of the new running track at River Valley Middle School. Construction has started again and the track looks like it's getting close to completion. Even in its unfinished and rough condition the track looks to be smoother than some of the roads around town. The winter has taken a toll on the pavement. Some particularly bad stretches of Woolastook Drive have so many pot holes and heaves that I don't even drive along there anymore if I can avoid it. I need to replace the struts in the car so you can imagine the kind of ride I'm getting through town. When you drive into Saint John through the business section of Grand Bay-Westfield that entire right hand lane is a mine-field from the Irving to the Sobey's entrance. I go to work for the early, early shift these days so fortunately when I drive through that area there is no traffic on the road and I can veer over into the other lane. But I've seen drivers do that to avoid the bumps when the road is busy. Not a good idea.

Bad roads lead us to the municipal election on May 12th, another sign of spring this year. There is a full slate of quality candidates running for mayor and council. Our job now is to choose. It's our duty too because unless we do our homework and pick who we feel are the best candidates for the job, we really have no right to complain about the job they're doing after the fact. So go to the candidates meeting, ask questions and most important of all, vote on the 12th.

As for me, I have more yard work to do and maybe, just maybe one more ski to get in.

Telephone Poles in the Woods

It was the oddest thing to be way back in the woods and come across a clearing with a telephone pole standing in the middle of it. Just a single pole with the insulators still intact and a few inches of wire still attached. It was a telephone line going nowhere because there were no other poles visible in the thick woods surrounding the clearing. I first came across this years ago x-c skiing in the woods back of town. My skiing buddies and I figured it was a remnant of an old and long abandoned telegraph line that might have run between Saint John and Fredericton many years ago. We were partly right.

I got thinking about the poles again when I was out skiing this winter and came upon a number of them in a bog. They were standing almost upright and spanned one edge of the bog. Until then I had only seen a single pole in the woods. (I took photos of the poles in the bog and posted them at rivervalleyrambler.com)


Even with this new discovery the story behind these telegraph poles still remained a mystery until I met Richard Likely walking his dog one afternoon this winter. Richard knows the woods around Grand Bay-Westfield like the back of his hand. He’s been hiking and skiing these trails for many years. In fact he cut many of them. We got talking and I asked him about the poles. Not surprisingly, he knew quite a bit about them.

He said he heard the story from his father and from Ken Cox, the former head of NB Tel. He told me these mysterious poles were not for the telegraph, as I originally thought but for a special telephone line. According to Richard it dates back to the second world war when U.S. President Roosevelt was in regular communication with British Prime Minister Winston Churchill in London. Our own PM Mackenzie King felt left out of the loop so he ordered a special telephone line built from Ottawa to Cape Breton and then by underwater cable to London. The line was used during the war years and then abandoned.

I tried to research this telephone line on the internet but couldn’t find any mention of it. I did discover an interesting history of undersea cables. Apparently the first transatlantic cable ran from Newfoundland to Ireland and dates back to 1856. It operated about a month before it failed.

Richard Likely went on to tell me that after the war the telephone poles were in high demand by the locals. They’d cut them down and haul them out of the woods and take the wire as well. That’s why there are so few poles around today. Richard said his father told him that people would steal the poles but leave the cross-arms laying in the woods. This he said was a mistake because the 4 x 6 cross pieces were made of knot free BC fir that was far more valuable than the poles. People here didn’t realize it. He said in those days it was a big job hauling the poles out of the woods because there were no snowmobiles or ATV’s.


So that’s the story of the mysterious poles that appear occasionally in the woods around here. I got thinking it would be fun to try to follow the line but I’m not sure enough poles remain to do that. I attempted it this winter on skis but quickly lost sight of the next pole in the woods. The surrounding trees tower over the telephone poles now and make them difficult to spot. It would be an interesting adventure and maybe one day I’ll try it.

It’s still a mystery to me why a number of the telephone poles with cross arms still remain standing in this bog. I suppose when people were cutting them down and hauling them away, they couldn’t get at these poles very easily because of the water. Maybe they never thought of coming out in the winter when the ice would make the job much easier. Whatever the reason, it’s good that a little trace of this history still remains, hidden for the most part but a great delight to find.

When the Earth Moved

I just got back from an amazing two weeks of skiing in western Canada. Getting there and returning had some challenges but that's a story for another day. Likewise the experience of skiing at a mountain lodge only accessible by helicopter is another incredible experience worthy of a detailed account. I'll save that for later too. What I want to tell you about now is that instant during a sunny, blue sky day on a backcountry slope in the Purcell Mountains when the earth moved.

I know the avalanche danger has been high this winter in the mountains of western North America. There have been record numbers of slides and deaths because of an unstable snow pack. The first day we arrived by chopper at this luxurious lodge situated in a beautiful alpine meadow, 7,200 feet above sea level, we all received the mandatory instruction in avalanche rescue. We learned how to wear and use the avalanche beacons. We practiced using the device to search for a victim buried under the snow. Our guides showed us the proper way to use the probes to poke through the snow and how to dig out around the buried person using our collapsible snow shovels. We were told how to locate the victims head and work at freeing his breathing passages. This is the same routine training people receive when they enter the backcountry, either to go heliskiing or like us, attaching skins to our skis and climbing into alpine areas using our own power. Nobody ever thinks they're going to need the training. That would be a wrong assumption.

On our second day at the lodge we headed out early for a full day in the backcountry. The sun burned our faces as we climbed through the trees to a higher elevation. This one particular slope was steep at the top, about a 30 degree pitch, steep enough to avalanche but then it quickly flattened out. That proved to be a good thing. There were six of us in the group and two guides. I skied down last because I was shooting video of the others making turns through the untracked powder. Everyone else had skied down and stopped on a ridge just out of my sight but they could all see me. I put the camera in my pack and started down the slope. My first turn was to the left and I could see two large fracture lines in the snow. I thought to myself that doesn’t look good. As I initiated my next turn something didn’t feel right. I looked down and saw the snow under my skis cracking and swirling. I glanced sideways and saw that I was moving down the slope along with all the snow. I instantly knew I was caught in an avalanche and I got scared. This wasn’t supposed to happen, especially to a maritimer on his first backcountry expedition into the big mountains. Fortunately the slide was short lived. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I can’t remember hearing any sound either. Luckily I was at the edge of the slide and skied off to the side toward some trees. The moving snow covered my downhill ski and tried to pull it down but I managed to shake it loose and ski away. As quickly as the slide had started it ended. Everything was silent and I was fine. I couldn’t see the others down the slope and didn’t know whether to yell for help or just get out of there as quickly as possible. In the end I skied down as fast as I could keeping well away from the avalanche. When I joined the others I realized they had seen the whole thing and were more concerned about my welfare than I probably was. The guides told me I did exactly what I should have done by skiing out of the avalanche. Believe me, it was an easy decision to make.


We all went back to examine the slide. The guides called it a level one slab avalanche caused by a persistent weak layer of snow. They even knew the day it formed back in February. The slope slid for about 60 feet and left a debris pile over a meter high. This was a small avalanche and there was no danger of being buried in it but I could have twisted an ankle or worse if I’d gotten caught up in the mess at the bottom. Our guides measured the slide, dug in the snow and took photographs. It was an excellent opportunity for them to study an avalanche close up.

Leaving the area we had to traverse across a steep slope with overhanging cornices. We did it one at a time to minimize avalanche exposure. After my experience I was understandably shaken a little and surprised by how quickly I skied across that slope. I think it was the fastest I’d moved all day.

That night the guides presented me with a special drink made up of a number of different liquors and topped off with a mountain of whipped cream. They called it appropriately the ‘Avalanche’. I drank and enjoyed it, thankful that I was there and able to.

It was a small slide but a gigantic eye opener for me and the others in our party including the guides. The risk of avalanche is always there in backcountry alpine areas and has to be taken seriously.

Caboosing Around

I grew up living beside the tracks in the west end of Toronto. The trains rumbled by constantly and most of the time I paid little attention to them. They were just part of the neighbourhood and I took them for granted. I didn’t dislike trains. I guess I just didn’t care or think much about them.

These days I know a lot of people who would love to have grown up beside the tracks. They’re train fanatics. Maybe it’s because trains generally and passenger trains in particular seem to be on the decline. Whatever it is, there’s nostalgia for trains and everything associated with them.

I’m catching it too. You know I’m not really that old but I can remember seeing steam engines go by the house when I was kid. I have vivid memories of my mother running to the clothes line after a big, black, smoky steam locomotive roared past the house. She had bed sheets on the line and didn’t want them to be covered in soot. Even though I clearly have those memories, I’ve questioned it because steam engines have been gone for a long time. I wondered if somehow I had imagined it. But I did some research on the web and discovered that steam engines were used in the Toronto area into the late 1950’s. I think one of the last ones was retired in 59. So I would have been 5 or 6 at the time but old enough to remember the smoke and noise and power of those mighty machines.

I’ve been thinking about trains because recently I had the opportunity to meet a couple model railroad enthusiasts. These are the guys who still play with toy trains and in some cases have been doing it for over 50 years. They build elaborate recreations of railways and rail yards with buildings and rail crossings and towns and mountains. The layout can take up an entire room in the basement or in some cases the entire basement. The trains, especially the newer models come equipped with chips that make the sound of rumbling diesel engines and the clickity-clack of the cars rolling along the rails. They even make their own smoke. These guys love trains, both the model versions and the real thing.

Then I came across a notice from the town of Grand Bay-Westfield informing us the town is trying to find a new home for our caboose. It’s been there on a rail siding beside the NB Southern Line serving as our Tourist Information Centre for many years. It’s a wooden Canadian Pacific Railway caboose dating from the 1912 – 1930 period. The railway got rid of cabooses on the ends of trains back in the 1980’s, replacing them with a high tech box that tracks important information about the operation of the train. Efficient I suppose but not nearly as nice to see as an old red caboose.

The town doesn’t need it anymore because the Visitor Information service has been moved into the new Brundage Point River Centre. The town says it doesn’t want to sell it, just transfer ownership to an individual or group who will conserve it as an important part of our railway heritage. Understandably they don’t want the taxpayers to have to pick up the tab for the continued maintenance of a caboose we no longer need and we don’t want to pay for the cost of relocating it to another location either. So that leaves it totally in the hands of train lovers. I truly hope some group comes forward to claim the little caboose for part of an exhibit or a business or maybe even another tourist information centre somewhere else in the province. I want to see it go to a good home. After all, it may one time have seen service at the end of train pulled by a steam locomotive that thundered by my old house one summer day, many years ago.