had to place a heavy chain under the runners as a brake to hold them back. Hunters loaded the komatik boxes and lashed them down. They took snowshoes, axes, guns, ammunition, food, extra clothing, and stoves. They had to be well prepared. Survival depended on it.
The dogs were pulling, trying to get going, as Daddy loaded the komatik. When everything was lashed down, Daddy lifted the chain and off they went, racing at full gallop into the forest on the well-beaten path.
“Bye, Daddy!” I hollered as the komatik raced effortlessly over the newly fallen snow.
“Be careful!” Mommy yelled.
With a wave of his hand he was gone.
We were left alone again. I have often wondered how we survived, how Mommy kept us alive in the total isolation of the wilderness. I have often wondered how she felt. Was she terrified that Daddy would get hurt and never return? There were so many things that could have happened to him all alone in the forest. A trap could accidentally snap shut, he could cut himself with the axe, he could fall through the ice, and he could get knocked of his komatik and freeze to death.
When Daddy was gone for several days, it was essential that Mommy go hunting, as well. She was very capable of keeping us alive under extremely adverse conditions.
“Weers ya goin, Mommy?” I asked as she hauled on her pants, dickey, and sealskin boots.
“Jus goin in de woods ta try ta fin sometin ta eat,” she answered as she slung her rackets and .22 over her shoulder. She was accurate with that gun and seldom missed. We all knew we would have partridge, rabbit, or porcupine stew for supper that night.
By this time Sammy was 11 years old (five years older than I), and old enough to set a few rabbit snares close to the cabin. He checked them each morning and often brought a few rabbits home.
When Daddy returned from a hunting trip, we watched anxiously as the team approached the cabin to see if he brought fresh game. We were hungry! The dogs started yelping as they approached the settlement as if to say, “We’re back! Get the food ready!” They were always happy to get going but just as delighted to return home. When Daddy came to a stop, they rolled gleefully in the snow, grooming and licking their fur, content that they’d gotten their master home safely.
The caribou carcass was unloaded and placed on a scaffold out of reach of wild animals and dogs. The small game was stored in the porch where it stayed frozen. This time the hunters had had a successful trip, and it was a joyous occasion for all of us. The meat was shared among everyone in the settlement.
On stormy days when my father couldn’t go into the woods to cut wood or check his trapline, he worked on his furs or made a pair of rackets, new harnesses for his dogs, a new bridle, or a whip. Sometimes he knitted a fishnet for the summer fishing season or even built a new komatik. One day he brought two long pieces of wood into the cabin.
“Whass dey fer, Daddy?” I asked as he laid them along benches he’d placed at each end of our tiny cabin.
“Gonna make a komatik now, Jimmy, an ya better stay outta de way,” he warned. With his hand drill he punched out a line of holes down the edges of each plank. He was very careful not to break his drill bit.
“Whass all de holes fer?” I asked.
“Jus watch an ya’ll see.”
I sat and watched my father work for hours on end. It was a big undertaking to build a komatik. For the sides he used two straight pieces of timber about eight to 10 feet long. Several days earlier some neighbours had helped him rip (cut) the planks on the huge pit saw set up in the centre of the settlement. The first thing he did was plane the wood. Once the planks were planed out and smooth, he attached a curved nose piece to them. Then he had to saw and cut all the wooden bars, the end of each piece carved similar to the cap on a bottle. He drilled two holes in the ends of each board. He didn’t use nails. Nails were hard to come by and they cost money, which we didn’t have.
To assemble the komatik he lined the boards up along the sides and threaded babbish (sealskin strips) through the two holes in the board and down through the holes in the sides of the komatik until all the bars were snugly in place. As the babbish dried, it shrank a little, making the construction quite sturdy. Once all the bars were strapped firmly to the sides, Daddy turned the komatik over to attach the steel runners along the edge of the wooden sides.
“Whass dat?” I asked as he placed a runner along the side and drilled the holes to attach it.
“Runners. Makes her slide better in de snow.” Daddy glanced at my big brother. “Tis awmost done now. Can ya help me turn it over, Sammy?”
When they turned it right side up, it looked huge.
“Tis some big, hey, Daddy? Looks beautiful, too. Will ya take me randying [sledding] now?”
“No, Jimmy, not now,” he answered a little sharply. He was tired, so I sat quietly, thinking in my little six-year-old mind of the wondrous thing he had just accomplished.
In the darkness each day when Daddy arrived home, he unharnessed the dogs and fed them. Then he unsnarled the harnesses and gear, hung everything on the nails on the porch, cleaned out his komatik box, sawed the wood, brought it inside, and fetched water from the brook. When all that was done, Daddy was finally able to come inside, wash up at the basin, and sit down at the table for supper.
After supper he skinned the animals he’d trapped that day and cleaned the fur. Mommy placed his clothing around the stove to dry, turning his sealskin boots inside out. All the work was done systematically and in order of importance. Nothing could be left undone.
Hunting and trapping were very hard jobs. And even though Daddy was partially handicapped from polio, he still had his work to do. He had only shrivelled flesh on one leg. When he walked, his foot flung outward as if there was a spring in his knee joint. In spite of his condition there was no such thing as being too tired or too cold or too hungry.
To stay alive every task was important and had to be done.
7 Springtime and Shifting Outside
By the end of March, we were getting spring fever, the feeling of wanting to be outside. Our faces were turning brown from the sunlight, wind, and snow. The springtime sounds of warm breezes whistling through the forest and birds chirping happily in the trees were captivating. Spring had its own smells, too. One of the most compelling aromas was when the snow melted into the ground, leaving it exposed to the hot spring sunshine and releasing the distinct fragrance of mud, sawdust, and wood chips. That unique scent filled our nostrils as we played joyfully around the cabin. We had such fun randying down the hills. Sometimes we had our own komatiks. Other times we used a piece of sealskin or anything else we could find.
“Can ya make me a komatik, Daddy?” I asked as my tiny hands wrapped around his legs.
“Awright, Jimmy, I’ll makes ya one tomarra,” he said, tousling my ringlets.
The next morning Daddy took my hand and we went into the woods. He selected two little trees with natural bends in them to make the runners, and two small straight trees to make the crossbars. As soon as we got home, he cleaned the bark off with his pocket knife and tied the pieces of wood together.
“Oh, Daddy, tis some nice, hey?” I said,
