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.