By: Rolly A. Chabot
© 2010
"Hill Fires"
October 1st, 2009
“Out of control” was the words booming out of the radio this morning; heavy smoke ran its lazy course through the Yukon River valley. It was the talk of many of the residents, especially those with breathing problems and little could be done but to stay inside with doors and windows closed. The forecast had been updated and rain was on its way with some westerly winds, maybe even snow at higher elevations. Snow already, it was only August, it seemed to come earlier each year, would that mean even down here at this level. Anything was possible as I had learned over the years, be prepared for the worst.
The cause of the fire was still under investigation but already rumors and many speculations over what had started it. There had been a battle brewing for the past few years over logging and mining rights in the area. Word had it that if they could not win the fight they would burn out those who opposed progress. Even blacked wood was worth money to the logging companies. Exploration companies would not need to take into environmental considerations after a fire, as the land would be deemed almost worthless.
The Taggish Cree had been successful in their bid to preserve their land and their native rights to dwell on it. The treaty that had been signed nearly 100 years prior had given them that right. The fight had been a mean and ugly affair and in the end they had won out over the impact exploration and logging would have on their lives as well as the social aspects.
I thought of the many that were living in close proximity to the fire and the fear they must be going through. There were thirty-six families in total and their Chief Johnny Jessup had been chief for the past 8 years. Johnny had established himself well in his position, known as being a fair man and one who was greatly respected in the community.
Elections had been arranged for years prior to Johnny running for the position. The Government findings had resulted in the previous chief being impeached after an investigation that revealed hundreds of thousands of dollar's in Federal treaty money had gone astray. It had been buried so deep in bureaucracy it would take the government seven years to find it. All in his immediate family and close friends had profited greatly. Much of which had already been spent. The investigation and charges that followed had set a precedent for all First Nations People in Canada; new guidelines of accountability were entrenched throughout. The illegal activities of a few had opened a can of worms across the country and all Native Bands had come under the scrutiny of the Federal Government.
The investigation had uncovered the fraud had been going on for 19 years, taking all he could. Even though band members would complain, the unfair practices continued. Come election time Johnny tossed his hat in the ring and it was a runaway vote for him. The people had enough and he secured the high seat, vowing to remain humble and committed to his people. His stand never waivered, he had served well becoming well known for the stands he took to look after the people.
Johnny was a quiet man, a man of the earth who trusted only in one God his Creator and provider of all things. He was a man of great integrity; his ancestry was filled with such men, starting with his Great-Great Grandfather. Stories had been told and retold many times of how his ancestors would bring the people through the hardest of times and survive. The same traits prevailed through Johnny as well.
Johnny was the last of thirteen children to be born in his family. His father had passed away in a rockslide when he Johnny was only 14 years old. Johnny had learned enough to know that his father was a born leader. It was the tradition to initiate a young boy into manhood. Johnny’s turn came at an early age according to his achieved skills. This was generally left to the father as to the right time. At the ceremony that night Johnny recalled the words of wisdom and blessing his dad had spoken over him. “You are to be a leader of the people, a leader that follows the creator, a leader that separates the right from wrong, a leader that follows the seasons and represents the people which will one day will elect you”.
His father was killed the following month on the west slopes of Nahant Creek. He and two other men had been hunting. The fall of the year was the traditional time to begin the collection of winter meat for the people. It was a freak accident as it was a trail that his father had traveled many times. He knew the trail well and could have easily gone to its entire length with his eyes closed, but on this day he slipped on a loose piece of shale and fell some three hundred feet into the rocky gorge below.
Johnny had learned well from his father the ways of the land and the Cree belief in the provision of the Creator. There was a simple balance that needed to be understood and Johnny had learned well. Watching nature and the creatures big and small could tell a man many things, even the weather. Johnny could predict storm days in advance just using the tools he had been taught within his world. I had been witness to his skills many times over the years I had known him.
He had to step into the role of the head of the household almost immediately, thankful that he had paid attention to his father's teachings at a young age. He had a natural understanding of the woods; he was at home no matter where he rested his head at the end of the day.
“It was hard my brother to think of taking on the responsibilities of being the provider of the household at age 14, but I viewed it as my calling. It would have been what my father would have wanted. Above all it was the proper order of the Creator above to look after your own.”
With a mother and three unmarried sisters, it was a tall responsibility that he had been given. The tribe always shared in everything when it came to provisioning but there was an unspoken rule, each male was responsible in the collection of meat, fish and wood so all could survive the cold winters.
It was a family affair when the hunting parties went out, generally groups of six men, each heading off in a different direction. Johnny had become the leader of most hunting parties they had gone on. Over the past few years he had stepped down to allow the younger men to lead and learn as his father had done with him.
I had been invited many times to be a part of the community over the years and all I had learned, I learned from Johnny. He was a natural in the woods, as quiet as a deer and as sure-footed as a Big Horn Sheep as he blazed the trail to the game.
I had always been amazed at what this man could see for tracks before him, Johnny was able to gauged the speed of travel of the animal he was tracking and gauged his advance opposite to the animal. He would read the land, the wind and the elements and rarely ever failed in his hunts. Should the animal run, he would walk or sit for long periods to allow the animal to settle down. During those times we would talk in whispers of the ways of the land. Johnny would openly share the meaning of his Creator with me. Knowing He was all-important. When the animal was at rest was the time that I would see the true skill of the hunter come out in him.
I never could keep up with him, when I tried I inevitably would make excessive noise, which was always greeted with a raised eyebrow. Johnny had a way of speaking without saying a word. The raised eyebrow always said the same thing “What are you doing Whiteman, be quiet we are hunting.”
I never recalled a missed shot from Johnny, when it was time Johnny would simply raise his rifle, slowly let out his breath and squeeze off the fatal shot. It was always a clean kill. His aim was deadly and always on the mark.
I recall once it was my turn to shot, I hit the animal but it started to run. Johnny gave me that raised eyebrow look and dispatched a second shot and the animal fell. “Must be the dirty glasses you are wearing, next time you should clean them before you shoot,” he said and laughed aloud.
The animal would never suffer; a headshot according to him was the most painless shot that can be fired. Johnnies accuracy was known far and wide in the community, I recalled one time pacing off a distance 300 yards, a free standing shot with nothing to rest against. Johnny was an awesome marksman.
Yet another somber moment would take place before the animal was prepared for transport, he would kneel and thank the Creator, requesting that the animal’s journey be a peaceful one. I had watched this many times and always felt a presence of someone far greater than either Johnny or I. It was a presence of peace, one of knowing that the Creators provision had been the animal on the ground.
“Thank You Creator of all things for us to use, teach us to be ever mindful where it comes from, through your hand and not ours. I pray over the spirit of this animal and ask that you guide its journey. Thank you again my Creator and Provider of all we have.”
A combination of heat and lack of rain brought about an exceptionally dry fall in1979, I had been throughout the Territory that summer on business. Flying in smaller aircraft the signs of past fires was very evident. Large swaths of timber had been taken out leaving the land blackened and barren. Only the straight tall tree stumps were left. Fire is devastating and yet at the same time offers new life.
New growth establishes itself quickly. I was not that sure just where the fire was in the Taggish area this time as the media was slow in announcing locations. Judging from the wind direction it was several miles to the west, but fire can travel quickly when the winds feed the flames. Flames will jump many feet and crown on treetops and move as fast as the wind fuelling the flames in other trees. Once sparks are ignited on the dry ground floor the rest takes its course unobstructed.
I prayed the Taggish people would be spared. “Heavenly Father I know You hear the prayers of many, even those like me. Father please give your protection to the Taggish People and all they have from the devastation and the path of this fire. Keep them safe is my prayer.”
The Taggish land, its timber and minerals were at stake. There was talk of the possibility of a major Iron Ore find. I hoped that was not true but the previous Chief and his associate organization had let a few exploration companies in to prospect the area. The find was said to be large, one of the largest in North America. Johnny and his people had taken their stand. They said the land was theirs and it would stay that way.
There had been some suspicious dealings, which had taken, place, promises the past administration had no business making. Now Johnny was left to clean up the mess and he had taken it on with a quiet resolve and would not budge on their treaty rights.
Chapter Two “Changing Yukon”
The Yukon was changing as the new people came in to stake their claim to whatever fortune there was to be made. The announcement of the pending pipeline from Alaska to the southern US had changed the face of the Yukon almost immediately.
The Alaska Highway Pipeline as it was called would lay 48 inch line across the land from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, covering a total of 760 km. Approximately 30% of that would run through the Yukon. An estimated 375,000 man-hours of employment over a period of 24 years would be realized. It would pump billions of dollars into the economy. Money spoke loudly throughout the North. The voice of money spoke louder than any of the people who would be affected. The oil would pass over Yukon land after that for many years and never a dime would be seen as it would all be shipped directly across the border.
All great and fine but what of the people and the land, especially the Native communities and the land which they had been given by the Government, a signed treaty said they had a right to govern the land as they saw fit. Economically it would be a boom without a doubt but the devastation would catastrophic as far as these people would be concerned. Their entire lifestyle would be disrupted, their lands would be covered in the mess man would leave behind and what of the prospects and chances of a major oil spill.
The drugs and alcohol statistics would go off the charts, with no real way of dealing with the implications. Statistics had been proven several times of the low tolerance Native people had to drugs and alcohol. Once introduced it would affect generations to come. Again and again it pointed back to man and the introduction of his ways on these people.
So what was it you might ask that brought me to the Yukon, what was the lure that captured me to see if I could make a go of it or not. I suppose the first and most rewarding was the Yukon was the last frontier in many ways. A man could be what ever he set his mind to in a place like this back in the mid seventies.
I arrived with a little over $200.00 in my pocket, with no place to live and no work. I rented cheapest room I could find the first night, found work the first day working as a Security Guard for $6.00 per hour. Within three months I had bought the failing Security business for pennies on the dollar. I had to finance everything I could scrape together to get it on its feet. I had done so against all odds and especially against the advice of the bankers.
I recalled the day I walked into a small Credit Union office and I was introduced to the loans officer.
“So what is I can do for you today.” He asked
I slid the hand written business plan across the desk and said I need some money to buy a business.” The plan was on a crumpled piece of paper and very unprofessional.
He looked it over and said “Interesting, I must say this is rather aggressive, what do you have as collateral?
“Nothing, no assets other than a van, some rifles, some fishing gear and that is it, oh yes and myself.”
It was the word fishing that caught his attention and we started talking about fishing and the outdoor adventures and before long we were fast friends.
The moneyman said “We do business with people who have a dream and as wild a dream as this is I think you could pull it off. The money will be in your account at the end of the day.”
That had only been a few years before and I was able to turn it around into a small success and the forecasts for the business were promising. Within a few years the business had expanded from a one-man operation to 18 fulltime, running 9 vehicles in 5 detachments throughout the Yukon and I was looking at two more in British Columbia.
I stood to gain from the pipeline my business would be in demand. I had been thinking of selling and getting out, as the hours were hard on me. 12-hour days, seven days a week can wear a man down quickly. It was hard to take even the shortest of time to fish and enjoy what I had come for.
I thought of the dedicated people I had in place and how they could benefit after staying on during the lean times. There were two in particular that I had trusted enough to place in positions that would forward the company.
They had expressed an interest in buying in a few years before, they had a dream, and even on the meager wages I was barely able to pay. Bill one of the faithful had been evicted from his apartment and I had allowed him to live in the office. Bill’s rent for the space was to dig into the books and make changes to save the company money and he did a fine job of looking after the budgeting. Bill had seen some hard times before; he often spoke to me about his love of God. His dedication to his job was exceptional.
One night Bill shared his story with me, I sat and listened. “Life has not been easy Rolly, never has, I have been forced to live in some horrible conditions. This, he waved his hand around the back storeroom of the office. Is a blessing indeed, I have all I need right here, a bed, small stove, shower down the hall. What more could a man ask for really. He reached for the Bible that was on the nightstand by his bed and said, “I have found comfort in this Book for many years and it will provide me with comfort in the number of years I have left. Tell me something Rolly, you are a fair and reasonable man, have you ever thought of where you will go after you die?
“Not really Bill, I was taught as a child it would be heaven if I lived right and did all the right things.”
“True to a certain degree and thus is the key to the downfall of many today Rolly, what you were taught means very little, it is all centered around works. God is not calling us to do so much, as He is calling us to accept His Son Jesus as our personal Savior. After which, you will live according to the spirit that lives in you through Him. Think about that and maybe when you have questions you can talk to me and hopefully I can answer them. Should I not be able to give you and answer I will find the answer for you. Just understand one thing Rolly; Jesus loves you no matter where you are in this life. The gift He offers is free, painless and available to all who choose to follow Him.”
That was the conversation that led to many talks with Bill about his beliefs. All that he had and all that he had become were the bases of what he called his successes in life. His faith was the center of who he was; there was no denying his love for Jesus.
Brian my other lead man took payment, as I was able to pay him. The first 6 months were touch and go, I had become an expert at robbing from Peter to pay Paul. Sometimes borrowing from Master Card to pay Visa and the next month doing so in reverse. These men were men that understood hard times and were able to see past their own need to see a dream come into reality. The reality for them was to eventually own the Company, it had become a very viable business and the potential was huge.
Brian on the other hand had no faith; he just trusted all his needs would be met. He worked long hard hours and was a dedicated family man. His family meant all to him, often though he would sacrifice family time to take on extra shifts. He and Bill would have long drawn out discussions about Bill’s faith and it would always end in a stalemate. Brian shared with me a few times he knew deep in his heart that Bill was right. He as well recalled being hurt as a child in Church and wanted nothing to do with the same God who should have been looking after him. The best that Bill could say was “Brian what has happened is by the hand of man, not God, never get the two confused as they are not the same thing.”
A few years before I would not have even considered the possibility of such a success story in a declining economy but Security was something all business’s and people wanted and were willing to pay for it. I was thinking of the possibility of selling the company to the two faithful who had stood by me. After all was said and done the price I was asking would last me a few years as long as I was careful.
During those first few years’ opportunity knocked many times late at night. Miners would come to town after many months in the bush. The bars would close but there was always a need for another party or a room. In trade I bought gold nuggets and flake from them well under street value. It would become part of what I would live on should the need arise.
The operation in Whitehorse required 24 hour coverage the outlying areas were mainly night work. Brian and Bill were fully capable of running the entire company and continue it onto what ever lay ahead. It was something I had given much thought too and the changes that I was seeing and not really liking all contributed to my selling it. The company had grown so big so fast it was hard to keep a handle on the smaller details I had so prided myself in doing. Attention to small detail and service had been the key to success. Would I be willing to let it go, as easily was a question I needed to ask? Once I did I was able to step free and begin to do what I had come to do, fish and go on many adventures.
The change we had been witnessing brought in many new faces, along with the faces came ideas and voices that wanted change to take place. The Native people began to form stronger more professional organizations that began to stand for their rights. I had stepped into the political light by voicing my own concerns on the environmental issues. Through the process I had become the white spokesman at many meetings. This was not a favored position to be one standing in the way of progress.
Johnny was part of that movement, not for money but to save the traditional lands. He had shared many times that it was not about the money, it was about the way of life he and his people experienced for many years. Change was not Johnny’s strong point by any means and he relayed his wishes onto me more often than not.
Johnny had seen what money did to the Natives throughout Canada and was dead against the change. “Sure we can take money, let the new stuff in, the mining and the logging, buy all the things we want and then what Rolly, what will be left for my people let alone their children. The land will be stripped, all the fish and the game gone and we will have nothing but what the money has bought us, just stuff is all. Preservation of what we have is all that is important to me and the people I have been elected to look after.”
He was interested only in stopping what most of the other groups wanted and that was to basically to rape the land of everything in their wake. “I want no part of it, none what so ever as all we need we have right here. Look at us, we have no phone, no TV and yet we have everything. The best part my friend is we know where it all comes from, not from man and all he would bring.”
The last boom that had passed through the Yukon was the Alaska Highway, a massive military operation to build a safe road in 1942; the construction had lasted only a few years as men and equipment cut into the Northern Wilderness. Yes it had opened the north to the credit of the Canadian Government but there had been nothing that had come to the peoples of the north other than a road that had been built over some of the most pristine wilderness in the world.
With it came many variables, many people gained access to the North they had only heard of, with the final intention to be able to move military men and equipment through the north from the US to its furthest state of Alaska where they could be deployed if needed.
The road that was cut through the north was the most crocked road a man could travel. The reason was simple if it had been straight many men and the enemy could attack vehicles at the same time in long lines. Yet another story that floated about was the fact that the caterpillar operator was following a lost moose.
Driving the road back in the mid seventies was an experience; vehicle windshields were a thing of the past shortly after you started on the gravel. Some rocks that were on the highway were the size of tomatoes; pot holes a few feet deep from frost heaves that had made their way to the surface. Today it has been paved the entire length and it is a pleasure to drive. Services are far and few between and prices vary for fuel depending on supply and demand.
Thus the Yukon began to change, some things for the better and some not depending on the stand you took. There were many heated debates over the way politics were moving, the old timers hated the change. I suppose I stood on the side of the old timers in many ways. Man and greed had its way over the years and it could be looked at as an open book, driven by greed, once started it was hard to stop change. Once you give a little more is demanded.
The younger crowd that had come up from the cities demanded a more cultured way of life. They changed what they could and as soon as the first sign of winter arrived they high tailed it back home, leaving the Yukon diehards to straighten up the mess. After a few years talk of the pipeline came to and end, putting an end to the rush.
I sold the company that year to Bill and Brian and a few years later the company had leveled out and they were doing very well with it, in spite of the downturn in the economy. The company had always been based on service and service is what would continue to maintain clients.
I had prided myself with dealing with my clients on a daily bases, raising concerns about security issues that had been spotted. It had paid off, as word of mouth was the best advertising the company had throughout the business community. It brought in new clients. New clients brought in revenue that paid staff and the bills. I had taken little or nothing out for wages the first few years, they had been difficult times but they had paid off.
I expanded the business according to the need. I offered an armed escort service for cash and or valuables. I was licensed to be armed, a service which was desperately needed in the north as sometimes gold shipments needed to be moved and it was here I could make some very good money. I maintained my license and the boys would call me in to do the odd big job, which helped tuck money away.
I sought some peace after the many long hours, during that time I come in close relationship with burnout, life had certainly caught up with me. I knew it was time; the money gained paid all the bills and left a small nest egg set aside to afford me a few years of relaxation.
I had bought some property south of town and paid cash for it with part of the proceeds. It was what some would call a cabin, but really it was a log home. Three rooms that I had filled with some very basic furniture, much of which had been given to me by friends downsizing or those who were leaving the Yukon.
It was more than enough for what my needs were at the time. The living room was likely the selling feature that made the decision to buy easy for me. Looking out the sliding glass doors I had a spectacular view, below ran a small creek with fish.
The cabin had a large bedroom, dark in comparison as it only had a small window in one wall. The kitchen was very rustic looking and had all that I needed for cooking. There was a small bathroom that had an old fashioned claw legged tub that had come out of the old Downtowner Hotel in Dawson City, once filled with water it would swallow the average person.
The cabin was located just off the Alaska Highway with the closest neighbor 6 miles to the south. After everything had been settled with the sale of the company it was the quiet I had been seeking. A good friend had made a sign that hung outside the front door it read “Wolf Creek Inn”, as she hung the sign and said “You are home Rolly and Tannis”, in hindsight there is no doubt in my mind as I sit here today writing this. The cabin was a Godsend as it gave me many hours of pleasure and relaxation. It became a safe temporary abode for the many who dropped in for whatever the reason.
Tannis my faithful companion was a Cocker Spaniel with an attitude, some say it matched my own in many ways. It became a home for us both and she was the ruler of her own domain. She was small but fierce in many ways, a rescue dog that had a hard life and took very little guff from me or anyone else for that matter.
Chapter Three “What Next”
With another coffee in hand I settled into to watch the day pass as I started to plan the next fishing trip. I had been fishing in an area for the past several years that had a chain of lakes connected, winding its way through the muskeg.
On the map it was just shown as 4 small lake, no names other than the name I had written in pen beside them, I had named the first “Lil Yukon” as it was simply another puddle on the topographical map, actually a series of lakes all joined together. Each lake after followed in succession; they simply became LY2, LY3, LY4 and LY5. I had been to five lakes only that were as far as I had ever made it before having to return for work or business.
Each lake had its own characteristic, each had a different species of fish that was dominant, each had its own beauty, beauty which only the Yukon could present only in her own way as it had done in so many areas I had hiked, canoe or flown into.
The “Lil Yukon” chain I had named held a special meaning as to get to the first I had worked many long hours the first summer to carve a trail through the rough back country to end there. It had been an experience I treasured.
I had spent many an hour of backbreaking work to complete the task; Tannis of course stood guard and inspected the work as it progressed. In hindsight at times as I grumbled of the work it had rewarded me many times over with the beauty and abundance the land provided. It had brought much peace into my life. I had never shared it with anyone, just my beloved and faithful friend Tannis.
The “Royce” as a friend had affectionately named my converted van had become a “Yukon Cadillac” which rivaled a Hummer, once a ¾ ton Ford van that had been converted to 4x4, raised almost 24 inches, had extreme over sized tires, winches front and back for the hard places, and yet with modern conveniences not afforded in the Hummer.
Many laughed but it was my machine, only a few had seen it preform miracles getting us out of places we had no business being in to begin with. I had customized the inside completely as well. It was well insulated and could be nicely lived in even in the -30 degree weather we often went ice fishing in. It had become home many a night since I finished building it. One thing for certain when it was stuck it was truly stuck, but with some effort there was always another place to get stuck just ahead.
Curled up near the door was Tannis, she knew when trips were coming, an instinct that I had recognized almost as soon as we had come to live together. She had been watching my every move this morning as I sat and drank the last of the morning pot of coffee while pouring over the maps of the area I was planning to explore.
This adventure I was planning would be for as long as I wanted, as I had nothing pressing to look after. I had come across another map that had been in my backpack for sometime. I had wanted to go back into the area and it looked as though this may the time to go.
It was located some 26 miles due southwest of Silverside Creek. I had been there once a few years before and it was pristine country. It was filled with huge trees, which created a grove that went on for miles. At the end of it a microwave tower for communications throughout the north. A few miles off the road stood a gate that remained locked to the public, but I had been given a key that year to be able to go in and do the odd ground check.
This new location would require some planning, as it was very remote. There was a road of sorts that required some maneuvering to get to the top of the ridge. I had driven it only a few times and had recently flown over the area on an inspection of the Microwave towers and equipment at the top of Silverside Ridge some 200 miles south and west of the city.
The helicopter company had hired me on a few occasions because of my experience in the area. They also required a spotter when flying helicopters in close proximity to guide wires surrounding the towers. There were some harsh winds at that altitude which would cause a helicopter pitch and roll at any given time. Checking everything while trying to fly was more than one man could handle.
Wes, a black man born and raised in the deep south of Alabama was the pilot, we had become good friends, after checking any particular tower site out, Wes would simply drop me off at a lake of my choice and leave me there for whatever time I wanted and would pick me up at the appointed time in the future. It was a win-win situation for us both and no more than a true blessing for me as I would be left to fish and explore in some of the most remote areas on the Yukon. The bonus was getting paid to do what I loved, the checks would be deposited, no fuss to me what so ever.
Packing for such and event required planning and I had been packing for a few days, thus the “Tannis Alert” came into effect, as she knew something was up. Enough food and supplies were needed for several days just in case I was left behind, one never knows what can happen so best be prepared. Wes would always keep his company posted as to my whereabouts in case something happened to him.
Once Wes had dropped me into a location saying, “ I will be back in tomorrow. The thunderstorm coming in the west may hold me back. If I get grounded you and Tannis dig in and I will be back as soon as I can fly again.” It would be several days before he came back as the storm was severe and the damages were apparent from the air as we flew out. Tannis and I had faired much better even though we had been bound to the tent during the storm.
“I stood you up this time, looks like you did alright. Tannis must have shared some of her food with you as you have not lost a pound.”
“We did alright Wes, caught a few fish, found some berries and took advantage of all that was free.”