rather nasty plot had been hatched a few days before the big game. One of the more popular single guys was identified as the target, partly because of some awful joke he had pulled on someone and partly because he was such a perfect target for this plan.
The two plotters approached one of the doctors from the little clinic across the street and asked if they could have a sheet of the clinic letterhead. The doctor knew immediately that they were up to no good and he demanded to be let in on it. Once he was briefed on the plan he was fully supportive and made constructive suggestions for the wording of the missive. A letter was prepared on the official paper and posted with the outgoing mail from the clinic that day. All the mail for the police members came to the same post office box in Golden and was distributed through a pigeonhole system in the police office.
Because the victim had worked the graveyard shift the night before the big game, he didn’t get to the office until partway into the third period. Excitement was at a peak—Canada was down by one but then managed to tie it up. Our victim came in and was immediately caught up in the excitement of the game. During a break in the play, he reached over and picked up his mail. During following game breaks he began to open the envelopes and scan the various contents. Everyone watched through the corner of one eye. He finally got to the one we all knew about, and he opened it. A Russian shot hit our goal post and we all thought it was over. Everyone was very disappointed until we realized it had bounced to the outside of the goal. There was great excitement clearly visible in all our faces—all except our victim, who was pale and drawn and had lost interest in the game. He quietly got up and walked down the hall to the bathroom. He emerged from there to make a brief telephone call from a side office away from the noise of the game.
Canada was putting heavy pressure on the Russian goal—shots from the circle, shots from the blue line—the Russians tried desperately to clear the zone, but were blocked each time. There was a scramble in front of their net. Paul Henderson was knocked to the ice but he sprang to his feet and took a wild swing at the puck and scored the winning goal. Only seconds remained. There was little if any chance for the Russians to come back. Canada had the cup.
Our victim left the office in the midst of all the celebration. He walked across the street toward the clinic as though he were carrying the world on his shoulders.
The letter from the doctor stated that a patient had come to the clinic infected with a very communicable disease. He explained that the law required him to question her about contacts where the infection may have spread, and that the name of our victim had been mentioned. He was requested to attend the clinic at his first opportunity, and that was exactly what he was doing. The victim’s first clue that he had been had was when he realized that the doctor was laughing, and he recognized about seven faces peering around the door frame of the examining room.
Watch for Falling Rock
The canyon of the Fraser River cuts a great ditch through the interior plateau of British Columbia from Prince George to Hope. The northern part, from Prince George to Lillooet, passes through the clay soils of the Cariboo. Here, the river water becomes loaded with clay and takes on a pale brown colour. At Lillooet, the river enters more rocky terrain, the canyon becomes narrower, and the river runs faster in its restricted bed. The best-known area of the Fraser Canyon is from Lytton to Hope, because it is on the Trans-Canada Highway. The Trans-Canada Highway and both major railways enter the Fraser Canyon from the Thompson River canyon at Lytton and all three follow the Fraser Canyon to Hope.
The lower end of the Fraser Canyon is a very unstable place. This is the area where the railways and the highway share the fragile canyon walls. The canyon is a relatively recent development, geologically speaking, and it is still growing with every season—particularly with each spring flood of the river. The walls of the canyon continuously drop rocks, which range from insignificant pebbles to huge sections that peel away from the upper edges of the walls.
As the rainy season progresses through the autumn, the rocks come down in direct proportion to the rainfall. As the rainy autumn season gives way to winter, the wind from the interior brings a sharp drop in temperature and all the rain-filled cracks in the rocks become ice. The newly formed ice can create enough pressure in the cracks to split a clean break through previously solid rock. These wet or cold seasons are always memorable times for the railway and highway workers as they try to keep the rockfalls clear of their routes.
From 1969 to 1972, I worked from the RCMP detachment at Lytton. One evening in the early part of the winter we were called to a motor vehicle incident on the south slope of Jackass Mountain. There were no injuries reported, so we drove out to investigate at a rather relaxed pace. The information we had was that a vehicle had hit some rocks. That side of Jackass Mountain was one of the few three-lane sections of the canyon highway in those days. One lane was for downhill traffic, two for uphill. This allowed most traffic to pass the transport trucks that were very slow on the steep grade.
When we arrived, we found that a pickup truck with a camper had somehow made its way onto the top of a rock in the middle of the highway. The rock was so large that the frame rails of the truck were eight feet above and parallel to the surface of the highway. The truck had relatively light damage to the front bumper and undercarriage.
The driver told us that he had been going down the mountain in total darkness, except for the lights of his vehicle, when his headlights had suddenly picked up a moving mass directly in his path. At first he thought that the movement was a flash flood and that water was rushing across the road. Before he could react, he was into the moving mass and he knew then that it was not water. His truck slammed into something so hard that he and his two passengers were thrown forward into their seatbelts. At the same moment, the truck was lifted straight up with such force that the three were forced downward into the bottom of the seat. They then realized that they were at a full stop. The headlights of the truck were still on and were shining out into empty space. The lights of an approaching vehicle gave them a reference point, and they realized that they were high above the highway surface. The driver checked with his passengers, his wife and daughter, and determined that they were not hurt. He found a flashlight in the cab and began to assess their situation. People from the other vehicle assisted, and the three were able to get down from the stranded truck to the road surface.
The truck’s spare tire was on a bracket on the front bumper. An eight-foot rock had fallen onto the highway and was rolling down the hill away from the truck when they hit it. The spare wheel and tire had gripped the rock and lifted the front of the truck. The truck and the rock had rolled as a unit for a little less than a half a turn of the rock to where they had both stopped. Had the rock rolled another small part of a turn, the truck would have been slammed down onto the highway, causing severe injuries and probably death to its occupants.
The big rock that the truck hit was accompanied by a few hundred cubic yards of rock, most of it in smaller pieces. The two uphill lanes of the highway were completely covered, and smaller fragments covered the downhill lane so that traffic was unable to get through.
A very skilful and well-equipped tow-truck operator was called from Boston Bar. He looked at the truck sitting high on the rock, laughed, and said he had never seen one quite like that. He rigged two lines to the front of the truck and a third line over a triangular frame on the back of his tow truck. He then gently slid the truck forward and put it down on the highway as though it were a toy truck in his hand. He checked the truck for damage and found none that would affect its temporary operation, so the driver and his family drove away toward their destination.
While we were at the scene, more rock was continually falling from the fresh break just above the highway. This was normal after a rockfall. We did not like to be there, but it was considered part of the job hazard. The highway had been closed from the time of the rockfall, and traffic was being re-routed at Spences Bridge and at Hope. We knew we could look forward to a quiet night because the road would not be cleared until heavy equipment
