I read this true story awhile back in a history of the BC Raincoast, the nickname given to that portion of the BC coast from about Campbell River/Powell River on up to Prince Rupert.* I thought it was pretty good illustration of how, just about the time we think we're hot stuff for doing something we think is a journey in a boat we learn that we're pansies compared to the folks who came before.......
During the Depression, work was as hard to come by on the BC coast as it was anywhere else.* Minstrel Island, a small, semi-floating*community partway up Knight Inlet was the hub of activites in the huge maze of islands, bays, and fjords* between Desolation Sound and Queen Charlotte Strait, an area known locally as "the jungles."* Floating logging camps, canneries, fish camps, etc. all used Minstrel Island as their "blowing off steam" place with its hotel, tavern, post office and*store.* Minstrel was a regular stop for the Union Steamship fleet that served the coast between Vancouver and Prince Rupert and many people out in the jungles picked up their mail and newspapers at Minstrel Island.
One winter when the Depression was at its height, *two out-of-work men found themselves at Minstrel Island pretty much at the end of their ropes.* No money, no jobs, and no prospects.* Between them they owned a large rowing skiff, but that and their clothes*was the sum total of their possessions.* Then news came in on an arriving steamship*about work to be had in Prince Rupert, some 400 miles*up the coast.* The two men couldn't afford tickets on the ship and it sailed without them, but then a fellow said that if they would deliver a package that had missed the steamer to Prince Rupert they would be paid ten dollars.* He also offered to front them some supplies for the voyage.
So in their skiff, in the mist,*rain, sleet, and wind, the two men set out for Prince Rupert.** They rowed steadily all day, every day, stopping for a few hours at night to pull their boat onto the shoreline and grab some sleep on the bottom boards before setting out again.
It took them the better part of three weeks to get to Prince Rupert, what with following the twisting Inside Passage and fighting the currents half the time.* And all this time they rowed exposed to the wet and the wind.* They had no charts, they simply followed what looked like the most likely pathways, although the main channels of the passage had markers and sounding boards they used as guides when they could see them through the mist and fog.
They arrived in Prince Rupert, delivered the package and were paid their ten dollars.* But when they went looking for the work that was supposed to be there, they discovered it had all been a rumor.* There were no jobs in Prince Rupert either.
With no reason to hang around, they they spent some of their ten dollars on supplies, got back in their skiff, and rowed the same 400 miles*back down the Passage to Minstrel Island.
The thing I found telling in this was that when they got back, not only did they not make any big deal about what they'd just done, but nobody else did either.* It was just part of life on the Raincoast.* Rowing hundreds of miles through nasty weather wasn't considered special, it was just something you had to do if you had to do it.
When I read this story I couldn't help but recall the couple we'd met at Refuge Cove in Desolation Sound who spent most their time there complaining bitterly to anyone who'd listen about*how their trip*in their 50' yacht*had been turned into an epic of*inconvenience because one of the burners on their electric stove had quit working.
Given*the choice, I think I'd have much preferred the company of those two guys in the skiff.
During the Depression, work was as hard to come by on the BC coast as it was anywhere else.* Minstrel Island, a small, semi-floating*community partway up Knight Inlet was the hub of activites in the huge maze of islands, bays, and fjords* between Desolation Sound and Queen Charlotte Strait, an area known locally as "the jungles."* Floating logging camps, canneries, fish camps, etc. all used Minstrel Island as their "blowing off steam" place with its hotel, tavern, post office and*store.* Minstrel was a regular stop for the Union Steamship fleet that served the coast between Vancouver and Prince Rupert and many people out in the jungles picked up their mail and newspapers at Minstrel Island.
One winter when the Depression was at its height, *two out-of-work men found themselves at Minstrel Island pretty much at the end of their ropes.* No money, no jobs, and no prospects.* Between them they owned a large rowing skiff, but that and their clothes*was the sum total of their possessions.* Then news came in on an arriving steamship*about work to be had in Prince Rupert, some 400 miles*up the coast.* The two men couldn't afford tickets on the ship and it sailed without them, but then a fellow said that if they would deliver a package that had missed the steamer to Prince Rupert they would be paid ten dollars.* He also offered to front them some supplies for the voyage.
So in their skiff, in the mist,*rain, sleet, and wind, the two men set out for Prince Rupert.** They rowed steadily all day, every day, stopping for a few hours at night to pull their boat onto the shoreline and grab some sleep on the bottom boards before setting out again.
It took them the better part of three weeks to get to Prince Rupert, what with following the twisting Inside Passage and fighting the currents half the time.* And all this time they rowed exposed to the wet and the wind.* They had no charts, they simply followed what looked like the most likely pathways, although the main channels of the passage had markers and sounding boards they used as guides when they could see them through the mist and fog.
They arrived in Prince Rupert, delivered the package and were paid their ten dollars.* But when they went looking for the work that was supposed to be there, they discovered it had all been a rumor.* There were no jobs in Prince Rupert either.
With no reason to hang around, they they spent some of their ten dollars on supplies, got back in their skiff, and rowed the same 400 miles*back down the Passage to Minstrel Island.
The thing I found telling in this was that when they got back, not only did they not make any big deal about what they'd just done, but nobody else did either.* It was just part of life on the Raincoast.* Rowing hundreds of miles through nasty weather wasn't considered special, it was just something you had to do if you had to do it.
When I read this story I couldn't help but recall the couple we'd met at Refuge Cove in Desolation Sound who spent most their time there complaining bitterly to anyone who'd listen about*how their trip*in their 50' yacht*had been turned into an epic of*inconvenience because one of the burners on their electric stove had quit working.
Given*the choice, I think I'd have much preferred the company of those two guys in the skiff.
