Appleby College - Argus Yearbook (Oakville, Ontario Canada)

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Solo I came to Canada about eight months ago. Just two weeks after I arrived, our class went up North. We also were the first group who went there. Everything seemed so strange to me. The country, the people, the life. It was quite different from Hong Kong. Another thing was I couldn ' t communicate too well with the others because of the problem in language. As time went by I started to get used to it. The whole class was divided into three groups of seven. With the guiding of the instructors we usually had three day canoeing or hiking trips every week. I lear- ned a lot of skills everyday. For example, how to set up a fire, build a shelter, paddle a canoe and cook. I made a lot of friends too. But time passed by very quickly, there was only one more week left of our month. We were going to have our solos the last week. I started to worry. What will happen to me? , I thought. Will I get lost, or maybe even get killed by the wild animals? I also cared about the problem of food too. When I got there, starving was not the problem. I had to survive with myself for nearly one and a half days. What unknown dangers were lurking in the bush? Loneliness came over me, especially since I came from Hong Kong, such a crowded city. And the worst fear was the fear of failure. I got myself busy to keep the fear away, and then darkness came. I tried to go to sleep as early as I could, but all sorts of terrible thoughts came into my head: bears, snakes, devils, ghosts, I just couldn ' t go to sleep. Suddenly I said to myself: What am I afraid of? Why don ' t I just make up my mind and face the problem? I have to face it sometime. I thought of my parents who sent me over to Canada to be educated and learn how to face such difficulties; how could I let them down? I thought it over, it wasn ' t too hard really. Now I was not afraid any more. Nothing could scare me. The sky was very dark and I fell asleep soon afterwards. Although I woke up a few times, the night passed very fast. The next morning I woke up to the noise of a chipmunk. It was raining; I cooked my breakfast, although there was not much food left. In the afternoon they picked me up. I was proud of myself: I had made it. Editor ' s Note: this narrative was delivered at the Powell ' s House Chapel Service, May 11, 1975, by Herman Lam 10 A-1 Mm Herman at Seal Rock Sketch by John Wright

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Solo I awoke early that morning with the sun shining brightly in my eyes. This was the morning I was to depart for my 48 hour solo. The day was the best I had seen in the whole month up here. I completed my laps and swim and jaunted off to the lodge for breakfast. I stuffed myself as if it were to be my last meal, and got my kit together. My food con- sisted of two chocolate chunks, a can of sardines, a bag of tea bisk, and two tea bags. I was allowed ten ft. of butcher cord, a small pot, eight matches and a six by ten foot sheet of plastic. Dave Gibson, my counselor, told me it was time to go, so I reluc- tantly got into the boat with some of the other soloists and we sped off to Seal Rock Pt. When I got there a feeling of panic filled me, and great loneliness. Right from the beginning I was busy, for I knew that if I kept busy I would not get lonely. First I looked around the area for a good site to pitch my shelter and then proceeded to find three large tent poles. I constructed this shelter and stretched my plastic sheet over it in about 20 minutes. Then I layed 6 inches of balsam bough bedding to in- sulate me and keep me dry. My next job was to build a fire which would reflect heat into my shelter. This would be a trapper ' s fire with a large stone for the backdrop which later took a great deal of dragging and tugging. When my fire was built I constructed a wood pile 4 feet high which took me till about four o ' clock or so, as I could calculate by the sun. The rest of the day I investigated the surrounding area. I came back into camp around six o ' clock and lit the fire anew and baked my bannock on the end of a stick. After eating I stoked the fire up and dropped off to sleep. The next morning I awoke and there was frost all over my sleeping bag and the temperature was about 30F and the sun was shining brightly through the pines. I started a fire and cooked the rest of my food. Then my counselor came by to check up on me at about 8 o ' clock and he took a picture of me and my -• ' shelter. Throughout the rest ot the day I did some thinking, writing and carving. Fraser was about 1 2 mile away so we screamed and hollered to each other and could distinguish some of the words. About four o ' clock I got really hungry and by this time I was talking and singing to myself. The drone of Dave ' s motor boat was very welcome in- deed. We went back to the lodge in a seemingly endless journey, expecting that when we got back to the lodge we would be feasting. When we landed at Rabbitnose Island we were greeted by Knobby with the vile statement: dinner is in about an hour and a half. P. Harnden 10 A-2

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10E In the North RABBITMARES 9 The two of them they stumbled. Abreast into the morn, To set a cold cruel rabbit snare, From which one ' would earn much scorn. Their eyes were but half open, yet they ventured on, Together off to the woods. Blood was In their song. Upon surmounting difficulties, With one of their crude snares. They returned to the warm fire pit. Hoping to catch some hares. When rising the next morning, One camper, he did sit, While the other left the fire ' s warmth, To find a dead rabbit. He returned very shortly, And lo and behold. To the other camper ' s amazement, Keith ' s rabbit was stone cold - dead! Then off they all wander Back to Rabbit Nose Keith took his prize to Nobby, A Rabbit, now half froze! Eversince it ' s blood ran red. On that afternoon, Keith sees rabbits, six feet tall, At night, under the moon. FORESIGHTS Look out, over the snow covered lake, At the sun sinking below the hills. And the breeze, cold and sharp, Shaping the drifts, each different. The air is dry. as are my lips. Darkness slowly creeps in upon it all The stars are like holes in black cloth, And the moon casts a ridicule grin ... upon us 9 Passing by time with little care, What will become of it all? It looms above us, snearing down, It calls to those who dare. The pitch so steep, that wears a frown, The face that is so bare. The way we chose is vertical, Decisions, yes or no. The hope to reach the pinnacle. The way that we must go. The urge to stop, the drive to go, A sapling here, or there. The will to climb so we may show, The cliff, a moment ' s scare. The line drawn thin betwixt the two, A ridge of snow and ice. With death of life so near to you, That ground, looks awful nice. The summit close, and yet so far, One pitch is in the way. This stump, I hope is up to par, Someway to end a day. At last, the top is in our grasp, A race to see the view. No need for things on which to clasp. Thank God. for flat ground too. AN IMAGE Alone and desolate it stood, silhouetted against the rising sun. Glistening with fresh ice ... Reflecting the branches and clear blue sky. With bark tough and ridged: the odd drop of sap ... Oozing forth from a separ ate world. Erect, unflinching, the soldier of the woods Stood alone and desolate, after the battle. N. Jackson We left the van, it ' s warmth and calm, And stepped into the Cold. We strapped on shoes with sweaty palms. We feared what might unfold. The crispy crunch of breaking trail, The old life left behind. Our bodies hard against the gale. The goal we hoped to find. The wind blown snow, the dark, grey, cold, It bit the feet and hands. Our reddened faces froze, yet told, We ' d conquer northern lands. The march grew long, and so did day, Our camp, we soon must reach. Fatigue grew strong in every way. I hate this off-white beach! A point ahead, around the bend. Our destiny to see. But wait; just snow and ice to tend, This seems like hell to me. Another ste p, another mile, I ' m walking half asleep. We ' ll be there in a little while, This thought, I have to keep. Am I here, or have I died, Or is this just a dream. God knows how hard my body ' s tried! I see a faint red beam. The sun has broken through the clouds, A ball of burning flame. The whistling wind is not so loud, The cold not quite the same. N. Jackson 100