78 GMG Here We Come

It was now off to Canada and the wilds of the central BC coast, 70 miles north of Port Hardy and up Smith Inlet, to that little inlet tucked off to the side called Boswell. Here in the summer was a store and post office, in the winter just a place for a freighter to unload freight every two weeks.

Wouldn’t you know, after landing at Port Hardy the ceiling was so low that we couldn’t continue on until the weather improved. I still remember sitting in the Port Hardy terminal while we impatiently waited for the weather to clear. It seemed that we had to sit there for hours.

Sandy was quite amazing when I think back, as she handled the situation quite well. However I do remember her being quite upset when she ordered a glass of milk from what might be loosely called a restaurant, and it was sour. It was a good thing that Sandy was still nursing Teri or we might have had a very sick baby.

At last the weather cooperated and the Beaver took off for Boswell Inlet and GMG Logging.

The camp was its own little community with each house on its own float. The floats were tied together with a walkway joining them together. The community had its own diesel power plant, which was on during certain hours. If you were a single guy you could stay in the bunkhouse and eat your meals in the cookhouse that sat right next door. There was also a public school with one teacher and a church, which was filled to capacity every Saturday.

Drying clothes was a problem in a country where it rains 120 inches a year. Some houses had gas dryers but for those that didn’t there were drying sheds, however with 100% relative humidity it took forever to dry most things. Some of the winter months you might not even see the sun. Most houses had a drying rack, so clothes could be dried over the kitchen oil stove if necessary.

The only thing lacking was the ability to turn the rain off. This was something you had to get used too. It rained so much that the top layer of the inlet tasted like fresh water after a heavy rain.

I remember when Ernie Knopp forgot to pull his small kicker up on the float, next morning it had filled with rainwater and sunk. The only thing showing was its bow; the engine with the rest of the boat was all under water.

After a heavy rain there would be a roaring sound as torrents of water rushed wildly down the mountain slopes creating dozens of white foaming waterfalls in their dash to the sea.

The biggest shock for me was that for the first few months I had to live with my boss George Egolf all week on his fish boat. Neither Sandy nor I were excited about being separated for a week at a time, but it made the weekends that much sweeter. This arrangement didn’t end any to soon for me as I found Sandy a much better bed partner then George.

The change from Puyallup was radical but survival requires adaptability and it was not too long before Sandy and I and the baby were used to rain 24/7 and a loggers life in the rainforest of the central BC coast.