Winter Harbour
circa 1955, late spring
Lloyd was always a big boy, even when he was a little boy.
This despite the fact that Aunties often called him "Lloydie" anyway.
It was not unusual, sixty years ago, in remote villages like Winter Harbour, BC, for little boys (and girls) to take on roles in their families that would seem incredible today. The isolation and hardship of life in the outposts of BC in the early 50's created need and forced contribution. While the story below may seem incredible, it was, in fact, so commonplace that it was seldom repeated, or often dismissed by the protagonist as, simply, no big deal.
On this ordinary day in Winter Harbour, nine year-old Lloydie was asked to go catch a dinner. "Go jig us a fish'" is likely what he was asked to do, something he had done many many times before.
Dutifully he went to the wharf, tossed in the jig boards and lures, unhooked the lines, and oared out into the harbour to a place where he had found success in the past. Soon he was out in the harbour, jig line in hand, smoothly stroking the water with upstrokes to coax a curious cod, or snag a lurking snapper. He kept an eye on a landmark to ensure he wasn't drifting too far with the tides. Every few minutes he would pull in the line and oar back to his spot.
He noticed he wasn't alone. Another boy, a bit younger, (we will call him P) had joined him on the harbour and was also jigging for his dinner nearby. Lloydie went about his business but watched him out of the corner of his big brotherly eye. The other boy soon snagged something, and it was big; too big.
P tried in vain to lift the fish with little result. From deep below the surface the fish was making his escape, and he was taking P along as well. P held tight as the boat shifted. P refused to let go of dinner, and stood up in the boat to make use of his legs in the struggle; mistake.
The weight shifted below him again pulling him forward and slamming his forehead into the starboard gunwale. Into the water he fell, face down. He was still.
Lloydie ravelled his jig line and oared over to his floating neighbour. With a tug he lifted and rolled him into his boat. He turned the boy's head sideways, gripped P's ankles, and began pushing his knees into his chest, a method of artificial respiration commonly used in his time. The action had the desired result; P spit up sea water and began wheezing, coughing and crying as he recovered in Lloydie's boat. P's boat had already begun to drift on a tidal journey southwest to Quatsino Sound. Lloydie silently lamented that a good jig line had been lost.
Once P's health was assured, Lloydie rowed steadily towards the drifting boat, secured it with a tie line, and headed for the wharf. He tied up both boats, collected what remained of P's fishing equipment, and took P home and left him with his mother.
He then returned to the wharf and set out to complete his original purpose; jig a dinner. After landing fish to feed both families, Lloydie rowed back to the wharf, cleaned the fish and delivered the first to P's house. The other he brought home and settled in for dinner and another quiet Winter Harbour evening.
Later that night a knock on the door announced the arrival of P's mother, with a story to tell to Lloydie's mom, and a delicious Three-Egg white cake for all to enjoy.
P went on to become a founding member of the most influential environmentalist organization in the world.
Lloydie, after a stint in the navy and jobs in welding, returned to the world he understood best - fishing.
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| Rafted up with friends..Alex "Nasty" Simmons (Viewpoint)..Walter Kempton (Sherry C)...Larry's boat in the middle....Lloyd "Oggy" Ogmundson (Monashee II)....Ken Barnes (Twilight Star) - photo by Larry. |
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