Ghost Town hunting on CBC The Afternoon Edition

Blog posts not only get read, they get shared. Or so I’ve learned this week!

I received a lovely phone call from the producers of CBC Saskatchewan’s The Afternoon Edition with Craig Lederhouse. I will be interviewed tomorrow re: my piece on Saskatchewan Ghost Towns, and I’ve promised both SaskTel on Demand, as well as ActiveHistory.ca, that I will be sure to mention them both. Once the interview is finished, I’ll try to download the podcast here.

Marketing Ghost Towns: the new tourism trend?

Recently, I was invited to visit the town of Loverna, SK, a stone’s throw from the Alberta border, with a documentary film company out of Saskatoon.

This experience — wandering through a virtually empty town, scaring the pigeon who had made his home in the curling rink foyer, visiting the still-used Anglican church, peeking in the windows of the old Elk’s Hall and garage — was a fun way to spend a day, if a little sad (even for a historian).

There were surprises: the artifact I had originally dismissed as yet another old wagon proved, on further examination, to be a horse-drawn manure spreader — surely organic groups would hearken to the knowledge of prairie pioneers, pre-commercial fertilizer! The box of empty stubbie beer bottles at the back of the hall were another great find.

Saskatchewan is littered with the remnants of towns, villages, and abandoned farm yards, the detritus of humanity moving through the landscape and sojourning for a short but intense period of time. Other towns, of course, remain vibrant, even growing. New house starts in Biggar, an hour west of Saskatoon (where I live), have been phenomenal over the past six years. The so-called ‘Saskaboom’ is spilling  back to the rural regions, at least those within striking distance of the major centers, or near the extractive industrial centers of potash, oil, or gas development. Ironically, although the region around Loverna is crawling with oil and gas workers — we saw no less than two helicopters in the area, in addition to extensive oil pump operations — workers are not moving back to the rural towns. Or at least, not Loverna.

My experiences with the video crew that day got me thinking about ghost towns, and how it has become an urban craze to drive out of the cities to poke through and photograph the remants of the rural past. I recently wrote a blog post for ActiveHistory.ca on the craze. Read it here: http://activehistory.ca/2012/01/sad-empty-places-marketing-ghost-towns-in-saskatchewan/

Happy Ghost Town hunting.

How to Give a Conference Presentation

Conference Workshop Poster

On Friday, January 13th, I will be giving a presentation to Department of History graduate students. The topic? Conference presentations: tips, tricks, and things to remember.

I’m going to take a somewhat different tack than I normally would. It would seem, on the surface, an obvious place to design and give a lecture (complete, of course, with power point and copious note-taking by the audience). I’ve decided, however, to give the first ten minutes of a conference presentation that I have given to a real audience. Then, I’ll ask the students to dissect my presentation and give their own tips and tricks that they have used, read about, or think might be a good idea. A roundtable discussion, rather than a formal and one-sided presentation, will (I hope) be more effective.

Ideally, I’d like to see each of them give five minutes of a conference presentation that we could evaluate and give constructive critique, but that would take more time than we have.

Some points MUST be brought up, and I’ll be sure to do so if the students don’t spontaneously bring them up:

1. Choose a SMALL part of your research to present (part of one chapter, one strand of research, or one story to dissect).

2. No more than 8 pages double spaced (10 pages if larger font size, say 14 points) for a 20 minute presentation.

3. Practice it OUT LOUD. Time yourself. NEVER go over your time limit.

4. Use visuals and/or audio and/or artifacts; but DO NOT talk to the powerpoint.

5. NO JARGON! (And I would say, limited to no theory… save that for the written paper).

6. Dress nicely. NO casual clothes.

7. Use humour and storytelling. SHOW don’t TELL.

8. Voice techniques count: project, enuniciate, head up, look at your audience, slow down.

9. Leave room for questions (i.e. allude to ideas, points, etc. to give audience something to latch on to for questions)

10. Point out areas where you need help or would like audience ideas/response. Conferences are a super place to ‘workshop’ ideas in progress.

11. Re-word each question to be sure you understand it, before you answer it.

12. Thank the audience before you begin, and when all the questions are finished. This leaves a professional impression.

13. Have fun! Networking is best part of conference participation.

14. Remember: stuff happens. Powerpoints fail. Power goes out. Images don’t load. You get a rotten cold. Someone else has presented research that is too closely aligned to yours. Your methodology is old news. And, the airline lost your luggage and you have to present in your 2-day old clothes. Give it your all anyway — your audience will appreciate your humour, forthright disclosure, and modesty. There is always another conference…

All the best to you.

Rall’s Island Dyke

RM of Kelsey Reeve Rod Berezowecki at dyke fall 2011

RM of Kelsey marking future gates along Rall’s Island dyke, fall 2011

In the spring of 2011, there was water, water everywhere in western Canada.

Amidst the media concern for floods in southern Manitoba and Saskatchewan — the Hoop and Holler break, the village of Roche Percee, incredible damage at Minot, ND — all the water from the entire North and South Saskatchewan River system was heading for The Pas. This wasn’t news — after all, all the water from both the North and South Saskatchewan River system (that which is not drained off for irrigation, kept in lakes behind dams, seeps into the soil or lifts off into the atmosphere) ends up at The Pas. It’s simply hydrology: the two rivers converge into one (east of Prince Albert at The Forks) and, after a brief stop in Tobin Lake, are released by Sask Power from the E.B. Campbell Dam to continue the river’s many winding paths east through the spectacular Saskatchewan Delta and past the village of Cumberland House.

The amount of water that flows into the Delta is unstable, and has been since the early 1960s and the creation of what was (then) the Squaw Rapids hydroelectric dam. Whereas prior to the dam, natural flows used to rise in the summer and fall in the winter, the dam holds back water in summer in Tobin Lake. All too often, flow was cut off completely, leading to fish being stranded in puddles in the river, and a probable overall drop in the lake levels at Cumberland Lake. That water is kept at Tobin to be released throughout the winter, providing power when the cold and dark Saskatchewan winters leave us hunkering in our homes, furnaces blasting, lights, televisions, and computers all running. Of course, winter releases carry their own issues: unstable ice development, for example. No wonder the Cumberland House community pushed for years for recompense, and a bridge.

But I digress. I was talking about The Pas.

In the late spring of 2011, the snowpack in the Rocky Mountains was deep; the water in the rivers running from the mountains, high. The old saying “if the Good Lord’s willing, and the creek don’t rise”, or Johnny Cash’s classic hit, “Five Feet High and Rising” may tell the tale of rivers overtopping their banks — and both give a sense of what the Saskatchewan chose to do in 2011. There was no way that the water could be held back in the reservoirs of Alberta or the Gardiner Dam at Diefenbaker Lake; Tobin Lake, which takes in water from the combined river, was bloated and the dam significantly stressed. Outflow into the Saskatchewan River Delta led Cumberland House residents to ask Ducks Unlimited to open smaller dams to release water strategically throughout the Delta, to ease pressure on their town.

But even if water could be moved around Cumberland, at least a little, the RM of Kelsey, along with Opaswayak Cree Nation and the town of The Pas, got it all. Sitting on a pile of glacial till, The Pas and surrounding area are the drain plug of the ‘bathtub’ of the Saskatchewan River system — all of that water eventually goes through The Pas. To add insult to geographical injury, the Carrot River also empties into the Saskatchewan at The Pas — and that’s where things get really complicated.

In a normal year, water coming down various minor rivers empty into the mighty Saskatchewan, which continues its trek through Cedar Lake and the Grand Rapids Dam before entering the Lake Winnipeg water system. But, when the Saskatchewan is bank-full, the smaller rivers — such as the Carrot — can’t empty out. In fact, they back up, threatening to overtop and flood along their banks, backwards from the Saskatchewan. Throughout the entire Delta region, along the banks of the Carrot, the Saskatchewan, and all the other tributaries, the water rose and rose, overtopping in many areas and threatening others.

Rall’s Island lies just east of The Pas, nestled in a triangle-shaped bend in the Saskatchewan River. Crossed by channels (both natural and man-made) and old dykes, this is a landscape that is used to being periodically inundated, or at least, threatened by the river. For years, the RM of Kelsey, which governs the patchwork of small farms and acreages that make up the Rall’s Island community, has been pushing for a massive dyke to protect the people and the infrastructure in this vulnerable region. This spring, with the Saskatchewan at 100 year record flood levels, all the pieces fell into place. The RM found a perfect storm of environmental  necessity, political and social will, and economic backing to instigate the project. Throughout the late spring and summer of 2011, a massive earthen dyke was created using nearby materials, local and regional equipment and expertise, and plenty of volunteer labour.

The structure was more than sufficient to hold back the water. Indeed, standing on it, it seems impossible that even the might of Mother Nature could ever bring anything strong enough to threaten the new dyke. It’s almost a medieval fortification — perhaps their next building project could be a castle, firmly set within the dyke’s ‘moat’! Yet, climate change scientists warn us: it’s not so much that we should expect western Canada to dry up in a drought and blow away (those who survived the flood waters of the past few years would be the first to scoff at such a notion); it’s that ‘the new normal’ is exactly those extremes. Dr. David Sauchyn at the University of Regina, and his extensive research team and collaborative environment, warn: it is the oscillation between extreme wet, and extreme dry, that will be our future.

Rall’s Island has one side of that equation covered. We think.

Dyke crossing landscape like a road.

The Vasa warship

Marvelous and richly carved detailing on the stern

As a local and environmental historian, my recent visit to Stockholm (via work meetings in Umea, Sweden) was ‘anchored’ by a fabulous visit to view one of the most intriguing historical artefacts I have ever had the privilege of viewing: the seventeenth century Swedish warship, the Vasa.

At the height of a massive war between Poland and Sweden (where feuding cousins sat on the respective thrones of each country), the war fleet of the Swedish king was being expanded. At the shipyards in Stockholm, work began on a new ship of war to help fight the naval battles and take troops to and from the scenes of war. The Vasa was built as the crown jewel of this fleet:  over 1000 of the King’s Oaks were felled to build the ship. At 47.5 meters long from prow to stern, she carried 64 guns, 145 seamen and 300 soldiers under 10 sails on four masts. Intricately carved and adorned with rich artistic symbolism, she was also richly painted (a detail I hadnt thought of; it seems as though Hollywood’s recreation of sailing ships tends toward the plain, unadorned and unpainted).

But disaster struck. As beautiful as she was, she had a major design flaw. Before her maiden voyage, her stability was tested by 30 men who ran in unison across the ship, deliberately checking her balance. After the third run, they stopped, as she nearly toppled and crushed the dock. Despite failing the test, the demands of war pushed those in charge to continue to arm and man the ship. She sailed on her maiden voyage on August 10th, 1628 from Stockholm.

A wind keeled her over, but she partially righted and kept going until another wind keeled her over again. This time, water rushed in through the gunports and in front of astonished eyewitnesses, she sank about a kilometer out in Stockholm harbour. An estimated 30 to 50 people died when the ship went down.

Although partially salvaged for her guns, the Vasa could not be raised. Over time, her whereabouts was mostly forgotten until 1956 when she was rediscovered. What followed was a modern feat of salvage, engineering, and marine archaeology on a vast scale. Vasa had withstood her watery grave remarkably intact: the brackish waters of the Baltic do not host the saline shipworm which feasts on most sunken wooden ships. The Vasa could, and was, brought forth from the depths in 1961 to huge international acclaim. Over the next fifty years, she was stripped of the mud, excavated, her contents catalogued and preserved, and the ship’s pieces preserved in polyethylene glygol before being put back together like an enormous jigsaw puzzle. Such a remarkable historical and archaeological find yielded astounding insight into Swedish, Stockholm, and maritime history from the early 1600s, from food to clothing to games to money to health.

Now,  Vasa can be viewed from her new home on the edge of Stockholm harbor, not far from where she was built and where she sank. And if you’re ever in Stockholm, I insist that you go. It is an impressive sight.

The Vasa warship, Stockholm

Overland Freighting

One of the most enduring and interesting stories uncovered while researching my last project were those from the overland freighters in northern Saskatchewan. As soon as the Territorial Government and the Department of Indian Affairs pushed through a cart trail to the south end of Montreal Lake, freighters could be found plying the trail north of Prince Albert with loads of goods. A boreal quagmire in summer, such trails were used primarily in the wintertime, when seasonality — and the advent of winter — froze the trailbeds hard enough to carry sleigh loads of any size or weight.

I’ve been interviewed on CBC Radio regarding these stories, and they are my favourite ‘party trick’ tales as a professional historian. I love to read passages from Saskatchewan novelist John Beames, whose 1930 book, Army without Banners offered delightful characters and tales from the frozen trails. Or, I read from local history books drawn from communities along the forest fringe, where homesteaders would take freighting jobs throughout the winter for cash. Crossing the lakes in a ‘freight swing’ of horses, with the lead horses pushing a snowplow across the ice, was always an adventure. Shearing through ice heaves, wrapping the horses’ legs in gunny sacks to protect them from the sharp ice, rescuing horses and men from slush pockets and open leads, trying to build a fire on ice in a snowstorm — the modern ice truckers with their safety equipment, heated cabs, and road building technology are following in the footsteps of those who braved the elements with their bodies and wits.

Here are some selections:

 ”It’s a hell of a life: live out in the woods like a wolf, lay down in the snow with the sky for a roof an’ all outdoors for a shanty. But what’s a man to do? I got a wife an’ ‘leven kids. An’ so here I am, out on the freight trail, livin’ like a damn coyote an’ sweatin’ my soul out to keep ‘em in groceries.”      John Crawford, character in John Beames’ Army Without Banners.

“There was a lot of work to be done before they could take the freight trail. Stove wood had to be cut and piled for the women, hay hauled and stacked beside the barns, and freight racks built. …Everything had been done for the women that could be done, and Pierre Normandin had promised to look in at both houses frequently. …Kent and Billy were clothed in heavy sheepskin coats, fur caps, and thick woolen trousers. They wore three pairs of socks each, and high moosehide moccasins with ankle rubbers over them. On their hands were woolen mittens and pullovers of mulehide. They found, before their return, that they were rather under- than over-clothed.”

“Kent and Billy nibbled at frozen bannock during the short halt, but Crawford cut a hunk of raw fat pork from the carcass of a pig on his rack and chewed it with relish. “Pork’s the stuff for the freight trail,”he said. “Nothin’ like it to keep the cold out. To the devil with beef an’ bannock – they sit cold on a man’s stummick. Have some.” They declined with thanks. “You’ll come to it yet,” he assured them.”

And while modern trucks can be lost and replaced, hundreds of horses died on the trail, pulling loads through brutal conditions.

“The morning was still young when the ice gave way without warning. The sleighs sank to the bunks only, but the horses were in deeper water and unable to keep their footing. Ahead of them the whole ice bridge collapsed, revealing a wide stretch of ridged and racing water. Crawford stooped and jerked out the drawbolt, freeing the team. Had he not done so the sleighs must have been dragged into deep water and the precious freight, consisting mostly of flour, ruined beyond salvage. The horses were borne rapidly downstream, to bring up at the edge of the firm ice below. But they were in too deep water to climb out unaided. Crawford plunged through the snow along the shore and reached them just in time. He flung himself on his stomach and caught them by the bridles as they were about to be sucked under. …Nooses were with some difficulty passed over the heads of the drowning horses… A hard steady pull, and they slid up over the edge of the ice, Kent and Crawford pulling on their forelegs. Freed, they struggled to their feet, wheezing loudly but otherwise little the worse, Their harness was taken off and they were rubbed down briskly before their coats became stiff with ice. Warmly blanketed and tied between two roaring fires, they soon ceased to shiver violently.”

“The grey mare rose into the air with a sudden squeal. The ice had closed her nostrils. Crawford sprang to her head, whipped off his blanket and flung it over her ears. He hung on like a bulldog, muffling her head in its folds, while she struck out madly with her forefeet. The warmth of the blanket presently thawed her nostrils and she became quiet again, panting heavily. They pulled on again, Large drops of blood began to drip one by one from the nose of Billy’s Sam. Nothing could be done to stop it, for its warmth kept the poor brute’s nostrils from freezing like the mare’s.”

Local history books from the forest edge tell the following tales:

When Stan and Harry Hale of Paddockwood set out on the freight trail, their wives “made long narrow sacks out of flour bags and stuffed them with cooked potatoes, beans, etc., each kind in its own bag. When we camped, either in a hunter’s camp or just light a bonfire, we’d just chop off a chunk and heat it up.” Paddockwood: Cordwood and Courage

“Frederickson asked what was on the menu for supper for we were all famished. He replied ‘Roast Pork,” which sounded good to all of us. Mrs. Steinbach, a native, made us feel at home as we all sat down around a large table. …Later in the bunkhouse we were discussing the evening meal and how much we had eaten, when someone remarked that the pork had tasted strange to him. We agreed there had been a slight difference but we had all eaten our fill and enjoyed it too when Frederickson informed us that is was “Pork” all right – “Pork-U-Pine.” We all had a good laugh.”  From John Brooks, Strange Hunters.

When the trip was through and the men returned to their homesteads or towns, they were faced with a dilemma: how much do you tell your wife? If the trip was superb and all went well, it was easy to dwell on the beauty of the northern lights, the flash of the snow and to discuss what to do with the money earned. But dead horses that needed to be replaced, broken equipment, and frozen feet, hands, and faces, not to mention shredded clothing and gaunt bodies, were much harder to explain. The extreme cold, the danger, the fear, the howling wolves and the sheer terror of it all had to be hidden if the freighter ever wanted to take to the trail again. It was good money, if all went well; but it was a rare trip that didn’t experience at least one major disaster.

One of History TV’s most popular shows is Ice Road Truckers.  I heard a rumor that they were planning a special to focus on overland freighting in the 1930s — likely by caterpillar tractor. The experiences of those who pulled freight on the ‘cat-trains’ is a whole other blog post, but here’s the teaser: if you’re the driver of the cat tractor crossing the ice on, say, Reindeer Lake in northern Saskatchewan (essentially an inland sea), and you hit bad ice or an open lead, what are your chances of survival if the cat drops to the bottom of the lake?

Soon, I hope to publish a book on overland freighting experiences, using local histories, oral stories, and photographs from archival and personal collections. Freighting is an aspect of western Canadian history that too often has been lost to the ‘prairie’ mystique of the treeless, open plains. But the rollicking yarns deserve to be told to a broader audience.

Port Alberni Steam Mill

On our recent family trip to BC, we were delighted to visit the Port Alberni Heritage Steam Mill, McLean Mill. A National Historic Site, the MacLean mill is the only operating steam sawmill in western Canada. As a local historian, I was delighted to see this particular historic site as it was a reflection of three convergent pasts: the local memories of all those who had lived or worked at the mill in its heyday (until the 1960s); those who resurrected the mill and are working so hard to restore it; and a national recognition of the importance of a past that goes beyond mountains and battlefields. For an overview of McLean Mill, with photographs and further information, see http://www.alberniheritage.com/mclean-mill/welcome-mclean-steam-sawmill.

And for me, seeing the steam sawmill equipment was magical. I could imagine similar equipment working on the banks of the North Saskatchewan at Prince Albert at the turn of the twentieth century, or (even better) near Sturgeon Lake, where the sawmill and nearby camps drew men (and a few women…) for years before the region was surveyed and opened for homesteading.

I would love to see Saskatchewan’s lumber mill past brought to life — from the steam mills to a steam ‘dinky’ engine that brought lumber and logs down a frozen winter ice road from Sturgeon Lake to Prince Albert, to a recreation of a lumber camp in the bush. The photographic and archival records is startling, particularly for those who have succumbed to the Saskatchewan ‘flat-treeless-prairie’ myth. Perhaps money will someday be found for the Western Development Museum to open a fifth branch in Prince Albert to showcase the province’s lumber, mining, freighting, commercial fishing and trapping past. That would, indeed, be a wonderful dream.

Environmental History Television: EHTV

Recently, NiCHE (Network in Canadian History and Environment) has created a new initiative: Environmental History Television! (Well, that’s the basic idea, anyway…).

With 25 Flip HD video cameras distributed to Environmental Historians across the country, 3 to 5 minute movie clips will soon be pouring in to EHTV on YouTube. The inaugural video, posted May 27th by Sean Kheraj, features an overview of the recent EH+ conference in Hamilton, Ontario. (And yes, I’m in it, too…). There is some lovely footage of the Burlington waterscape on Lake Ontario, the Botanical Gardens, and some thoughts from conference attendees. I second Claire Campbell’s view that we should get together like that once a year… Click here to see the video: http://youtu.be/AUDzDzLsoHk.

As the summer progresses, those of us who received Flips will be charging around, collecting and editing video clips reporting various aspects of Canadian and international environmental history. I’ve promised a tour of our farm, and last week I captured a major bicycle race that had been moved to Biggar for environmental reasons. A trip to Niagara Falls is also in the bag, and may be uploaded fairly soon. Stay tuned!

Bison, Dan Flores, and Saskatchewan

The endless plains, the iconic Saskatchewan identity, once thrummed to the pulsing tempo of millions of bison hooves drumming the skin of the prairie landscape.

Environmental historians Dan Flores, a renowned researcher (really, almost a philosopher) on the Great Plains, has pondered the fate of the bison and the classic story of white destruction of this once seemingly-inexhaustible resource and staple for so many Plains First Nations people.

Flores’ original essay, “Bison Ecology and Bison Diplomacy: The Southern Plains from 1800 to 1850″, while first published in 1991 in The Journal of American History, continues to influence consideration of the role of bison on the Great Plains. Flores followed this article with a chapter in his 2001 book, The Natural West, which he termed “Bison Ecology and Bison Diplomacy Redux.”

He returns to the topic again this Thursday, May 12 2011 in Saskatoon, where he will offer a public presentation. If you’re near Saskatoon, it will undoubtedly be an entertaining and informative evening.

 Dan Flores Public Lecture May 12 2011

Rising floodwaters

The word of spring 2011: flood.

Rising waters are a concern every year but it seems that this year, Mother Nature conspired to provide all the conditions necessary for floods of centenary proportions. Manitoba, of course, has been hit the hardest, with evacuations in Brandon now being added to a long list of road and rail washouts, cautionary evacuations, and sadly, lives lost. Saskatchewan and Quebec have also been hit with water, water, everywhere.

And the mud is flying at our Saskatchewan farm, where seeding is delayed by almost two weeks. Grey skies above do not bode well for agriculture, building on last year’s record wet year.

To give some context to the extent of the flooding in Manitoba, environmental historian Shannon Stunden Bower has penned a succinct overview of Manitoba’s flooded past. Go to the NiCHE website to view: http://niche-canada.org/node/9960 to read “Catastrophic Flooding: Manitoba’s Perennial Challenge.”

And while you’re at it, a sun dance would be a great idea.