Appleby College - Argus Yearbook (Oakville, Ontario Canada)

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cessful in as much as we had ex- perienced mild sunny weather, had had a lovely campsite on the side of a hill and a good bit of ex- citement on our second day out I had noticed that all of the boys in my patrol were grinding rough edges on one another. While we were experimenting with an ancient, ten by fifteen foot canvas tarp (using it as a wind-break and as a means of reflecting heat) we were much surprised to find that it had sud- denly burst into flames, and con- sumed itself within fifteen seconds - what a sight! On this morning particularly I heard short-tempered comments being made right and left; subtle and sometimes not so subtle cuts were thrown in all direc- tions. I knew, right from the time that we awoke that morning that my little campers were not in one of their more charitable or co-operative moods. Ah, well. They ' ll get over it I thought, reassuring myself of their basic good-heartedness. We began to break camp at around 9:30 (that morning) - each individual had a job to do, be it rolling tents, packing food, cleaning up or whatever, and as things were going very slowly, I thought it necessary to provide them with a little incentive. Heh . . . you guys know, don ' t you . . . that Knobby won ' t give us : 5V ' ' J any lunch if we don ' t make it back to the Island by 12:30 ... Having suddenly been made aware of the possibility of their missing a meal, ( God forbid ) they got on with things at a quickened pace and soon, all but one of them was packed and ready to depart. That ONE - Richard W. came down from the campsite fifteen minutes after the others had assembled on the frozen lakeshore. Behind him he dragged what we all knew now, was the reason for his delay - a toboggan that he had jammed with tents and all kinds of other things. To top off this dishevelled heap, a cumbersome wood- burning stove made of tin was a delightful attraction. All this gear was held on to the flat sled with what looked like over a mile of butcher cord. As Richard came down to join the rest of us, his rig swayed noticeably back and forth, as it slid over wave- like snow drifts. It looked as though the whole load would top- ple at any moment - I made a mental note to remind myself to review knots with this fellow when we got back to Rab- bitnose. As it was, the load on the toboggan did not topple, and it might have been an uneventful

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One memorable incident from my recent winter experience at Nor- thward Bound bears repeating because, more than anything else, it proved itself an in- teresting example of the behavioral patterns of young people, brought up in the Suburbia of the 1960 ' s and 70 ' s. To preface the story, it is necessary to mention one of the basic rules or philosophies of Northward Bound ' s camping and tripping programme: STAY TOGETHER AT ALL TIMES, SO THAT HELP MAY BE RENDERED QUICKLY TO ANYONE IN TROUBLE. This means, basically, that if you are canoeing in the autumn, when the temperature of lake-water may drop to 3 0, stay within a very short paddling distance of the other canoes so that you may either give or receive help quickly in the event of a capsize; if your group is snowshoe - trip- ping during the winter months, keep reasonably close, for safety ' s sake - it only makes sense! The build-up to this incident began at a campsite on the shore of Lake Temagami ' s north-west Arm, on the morning that we were due to return to Rabbitnose after a double overnight. While this two-day trip had been suc- -3

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walk back to the island, had we not been forced to make a bush- whack of some 500 yards through dense tree and bush growth. Realizing that it would be easiest to clear through in single file, I instructed the boys to go ahead, one at a time. Richard, with the toboggan, and I, as always, would bring up the rear. Go ahead, and we ' ll meet you at the other side of the bush I told them. To make what could be a long story short, Richard W., his toboggan, its load, and I spent the next 90 minutes pushing, pulling and carrying ourselves through 500 yards of what can, most properly, be termed as a subarctic jungle. Sapling pines, young cedars and once- mighty (now fallen) trees made the going quite upsettingly slow. By the time we emerged on the other side of the bush, we were tired and frustrated. Before us was a pile of unfolded tents, torn flies, and a badly den- ted tin stove, and an empty toboggan, adorned with such a length of string, that it trailed all the way back into the woods from which we had just emerged. There were no other campers to be seen, only a line of showshoe tracks heading straight for Rab- bitnose Island. After a short rest, Richard and I repacked the gear (properly this time) and then began snowshoeing towards the island. Forty minutes later, with the island now in sight, we saw what looked like, from that distance, the other members of our patrol, rounding the southern point of Rabbitnose, and heading towards us.