A New Beginning

         6

A New Beginning

No good city Indian, the community elder diagnosed, nothing but, a chronic alcoholic. My recovery required the better part of ten years, after which, I bore the brunt of community jealousy because of my education.

Caviar

Summer Beaver, Ontario, some 40 years ago, the Nibinamik First Nation is a remote Indigenous fly-in community located 500 kilometers north of Thunder Bay. A resettled community on Oskineegish territory. My wife had said, her dad needed help moving his big canoe to Bear Stick Lake. Wow, what an opportunity. Born: Port Huron, Michigan, Sarnia Indian Reserve (Aamjiwnaang) was my home, an urbanite and here I am, in the middle of nowhere.

The Cessna with floats, Peter Johnson, owner-operator of Osnaburgh Air, was on his way. Jeannie packed my bag. My venture lasted four days. My first flight with just the pilot was awesome. Less than twenty minutes in the air to Eyes Lake, pine and popular trees, rivers and lakes, remoteness as far as one could see. The view was spectacular.

After arriving at the sturgeon spawning site, Peter flew his plane slightly to the right, then banked a half circle to the left to overlook the landing site. On a beautiful sunny gentle day, after a bit, he banked to the left again and began our landing approach. Touched down, felt the floats as they glided on the water. The plane began to slow, Peter revved up his engine. The floats crested and we were able skim the water close to the little dock. He throttled down, turned the engine off, we gently drifted in.

Jeannie's mom and dad were there to help load the plane with sturgeon and Goo-goo's stuff. Afterwards, Doo-doo and I pushed the plane away from the dock. The light breeze gently took them further out. Ignition and they were gone.

My father-in-law was special to me, as I would come to understand. He led back to the campsite. The bannock made with sturgeon eggs was open fire baked and had a nice smoked flavour, a delicate fish paste, on the side, and fresh fish lightly cooked in oil was by the fire. Go ahead he motioned. So delicious, I ate as much as I could.

While eating, a Whiskey-jack came in looking for his share. Doo-doo picked up a pine bough from the many that were used as carpeting round the fire and the tent floor as well. Playfully pinning and rolling the bird around, with a gentle laugh, let him go. So, a merry heart began my journey into the wilderness, unforgettable and without regret.

The change in comforts of city life to one that was extremely remote, isolated, harsh, and sometimes, quite cold, was demanding. An adventure back in time; My wife remembers her untanned woven rabbit skin winter clothing. Learning to live off the land was exhilarating, clean, fresh air and challenges all over the place. The real meaning of life and finding myself had begun.

Jeannie's dad and uncle, Alex and his older Robert were well skilled at living off the land. Special teachers, who, taught me the art of hunting, fishing, and trapping, as if, I was one of their own. They said, I made them laugh.

With forest all around, my favorite tools were an axe and a chainsaw. With study and practice, we became friends.

Chainsaw Man: Geraldton Fire Centre

1985 or there abouts, fire season, had landed me a dream job at the Ministry of Natural Resources Fire Centre on the out skirts of town on Hwy 11. MNR would fly into Summer Beaver looking for extra fire fighters (E.F.F.). After recognizing my familiarity with a chainsaw and axe, I was given the job of chainsaw man on a five-man crew.

Lightning struck at the far end of Long Lake and the fire had grown over night. After a bit of a scramble, our helicopter, pilot, co-pilot, and a five-man crew were on our way. We were part of a group above the fire, holding a pattern, drifting slowly to the right, facing centre. A smaller helicopter was positioned up and to the left. From the chainsaw man's seat by the door, looking down, two water bombers were working the site by using the water from the lake nearby. The coordinator arrived in a Cessna and moved into the center of our group. Opposite to us is another five-man crew, circled at a lower altitude.

Action time, we went down to extinguish the smaller fire to the right of the big fire. Dropped low and close to the ground, moved swiftly above the grassy bog, the pilot, cool, skillfully lands his craft next to the tree line. As soon as we unloaded the chopper, it lifted and was gone.

Set my saw box aside, number one pump was up and running, filled the first hose. Picked up a heavy hose pack, fell in line, crew boss knows what do and led on. This was hard work for having been in good shape. "Go back for another hose pack, then bring up your saw," the crew boss said. Nodded a 'yes sir,' turned and went on my way.

Fetish: Unlocked and primed, then picked up my little chickadee, her button was on. She was ready to go on the second stroke. Strong, sure, and sharp, she would cut you, and off we went down the hose trail.

Me and my growling Kitty were one. The brush on the small bank was expendable and would grow back quickly. Kitty trimmed the young pine tree saplings at the forest's edge, did not affect their growth. The objective was to quickly create a walk in the park.

The path was almost completed, the sunlight from the other side had become noticeable. An old dead, water laden, spruce tree, lied at chest high level, across the hose trail. The stress points on the log were noted, in accord, with path requirements. A cut on the right was made deep into the dead tree from the bottom, careful not to allow any movement. The next cut was made on top toward the bottom cut. Top of tree separated and dropped several inches down and away as planned. Three more saw cuts and some trimming done; the way was cleared. Saw off, the walk, slightly up hill to the sunny clearing, was exhilarating and refreshing.

In the clearing, which was part of a logging road, the crew boss, from his vantage point, talked on his mobile and looked my way. He jogged quickly over and pointed, "Cut the two chicos down so the water bomber can get in closer." I nodded and looked at the small burning island of brush, two tall dead pine trees were standing at one end. I thought, 'Do your job,' and moved.

The two dead pines were on the left of what was still burning. Holding up my axe as a plumb, both trees were standing close together and leaned to the right. In the background, the water bomber was banking and beginning their loop on our position.

Concentrated, started at the base of the first bigger chico, stamped on the burning shrubbery and cut as low as possible. The first cut was low to the ground on the leaning side. The cut in toward the centre was made as close to centre as possible, without binding the saw. A second cut completed the notch. Then, cut in on the other side, straight toward the notch until the dead tree began to fall. Stepped back and safely away, the tree broke clean, heard a crack and felt the thud as it hit the ground. The second tree went down like the first. Saw off, had to get out of the way, right now!

Moved back out of danger, the bomber was coming in. I could see the pilot's face. He looked at me as he turned to focus on the fire. The plane quickly lifted after it released its watery load, felt the mist from the drop. Suddenly, there was dense smoke! I could not breathe. Panicked! Think! What do I do? Smoke rises, get down! The crew boss was looking at me again. This time, I was laying down on the job.

After the fire was completely out, the helicopter was to pick us up before lunch the next day. Had some supper, mostly tired, darkness settled in, undressed and was in my sleeping bag. A look at the starry constellation above, wow, what a sight, what a day that was, and asleep.

My dream, one day, Nibinamik will be herself once again.