Appleby College - Argus Yearbook (Oakville, Ontario Canada)

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.Ah. The first to reach us had only one sentence to say: Knobby kicked us off the island, until you guys come back. We said nothing, and plodded ahead in somewhat feigned in- dignation. The rest soon reached us. They sensed from our expressions that we were not in a talkative mood, so they kept the conversation to a minimum, and dealt with only the essentials. Knobby said he wouldn ' t give us lunch because we had left you guys behind! Yea . lunch! ' he wouldn ' t give us While the boys DID do chores that afternoon, with the nagging pains of hunger in their stomachs, they got over their great misfortune quickly and, at the same time, managed to learn something - we never strayed apart as a group again. Looking back on the incident, I still find it amazing that the stomachs of a fifteen year-old could exert such an over-riding control on his behaviour; they all were more concerned with making it to lunch than with waiting for and assisting us stragglers who ran into problems in the woods. I suppose the thought of grilled cheese and hot chicken soup was just too great a temptation for them to resist. But then again, what if Richard and I had run into trouble . . . fallen through the ice, say . . . Oh well, they learned their lesson. I guess it ' s all a part of growing up ... . J.J.R. I ' m sure that when the parents of the boys of 10E were listening to stories of daring exploits and the healthy life of Northward Bound following our two-week northern sojurn during March they were reliving the freezing cold and un- comfortable nights of their sons, 66

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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.

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sleeping outside in ttie wilds. But don ' t be conned! Certainly while we were on the four-day trip I can vouch -that all the members of Rob Maslon and David ' Kink ' Stuart ' s groups lived in a veritable paradise. On Wednesday March 10, Kink ' s group, consisting of Don Hamilton, John Toles, Colin Richards, Andrew Newell and myself - also that merciless slavedriver Dave Stuart - set off for Base Camp at about 9:30 a.m. Six miles of snowshoeing and one lunch later, we arrived. The base camp at that time was two tents and a small stove, all dug down to the ground, but since John Wright ' s group, who had set it up the night before, had been pushed for daylight, it was necessary to fix things up a bit. We dug out the tent holes a bit better and laid soft spruce boughs on the ground under the tents whose openings pointed to the stove at a 50 degree angle to each other and away from the wind. We made use of the water hole chopped in the ice and set- tled down to an evening highlighted by roast chicken aux ananas , a visit by John Wright ' s group and extreme com- fort. The next morning, Thursday, Rob ' s group arrived, having spent the night nearby. The two consolidated groups dug in two more tents and made a doorway to the east side, thus forming a circle. Then, with tentpoles galore and pine boughs and nausea we built walls and roof to our camp. The woods were alive with the busy chopping of boughs and firewood. When we had finished, we had a five room shanty featuring wind-tight con- struction .... well almost wind- By night-fall our shelter was completed in every last detail. There was not a crack in the roof or wall that could give access to the slightest draft. The north and east sides were guarded by four- foot high walls made of snow blocks and a gracefully curved doorway of the same was six-feet high, representing the only opening to the impressive struc- ture. Inside, the scene was a spectacle of cosy organization, quite unlike the average camp- site. A huge pile of wood made a sitting place for Paul Manifould as well as keeping us warm throughout the windly, stormy night. It was so warm inside, that everyone was stripped down to their once - white T-Shirts. Sup- tight. That evening we had spaghetti with a thick meat sauce as we bashed in the fruits of our hard labour and talked away the hours over the red-hot stove. We had all the comforts of home right in the middle of the wilderness. Following a luxurious night we got up and set to perfecting our shelter and making a bobsled run. The run did not come out so well but the trees we cut down were readily converted into good firewood. Friday progressed at a leisurely pace - up until sup- pertime, I had caught Kink out of his sleeping bag only twice. One of those time was when Mr. Noble came on the snowmobile to pick up Graham Leggat who was suffering from a heavy chest cold. Mr. Noble was very im- pressed with our natural abode which pleased us no end. per was a delicious mixture of maccaroni and ground beef followed by mountains of fruit preserves. Conversation lazily changed from hockey to music to food to girls then back to hockey again as the empty fruit cans piled up one by one. Some stayed up until the small hours of the morning. That evening was probably the best that any of us have ever had outdoors. It was a great tragedy to have to pull down base camp on Satur- day morning, but necessary. As we started to leave at 1:00 p.m. we could see the naked frame. More fun was awaiting us up the trail but those four days taught us all that camping is only as un- comfortable as one makes it. C.T.