Lakehead University - Yearbook (Thunder Bay, Ontario Canada)

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LAKEHEAD TECHNICAL INSTITUTE YEAR BOOK DEATH I n m mm i ONE . . . TWO . . . THREE . . . |||| The rifle shots broke the northern stillness. The sound | echoed across the frozen Sikanni River, was absorbed by the j dense forest. A marauding wolf heard and was startled. | The man who fired those shots hoped and prayed that his call for aid would be heard. He shut the cabin door, crawled ijj! ' Ill back to his bunk. John Pick was afraid, mortally afraid, be- W I cause John Pick was dying — slowly, painfully, horribly. I Two days before, Trapper Pick had eaten tainted food. Now his belly was bloated and burning. As he lay on his bed in agony, John Pick knew he would die unless the poison was taken from his stomach. Now he waited for help. But distracted by fever, and pain, and fear, he lost all sense of time. Primitive John Pick took up his eight-inch hunting knife, plunged it into his swollen belly. And he waited and wondered, wondered which would come first — help or death. In his warm cabin in the forest, George Farrel was skinning the day ' s take from his trapping lines. The only sound he heard was that of burning wood and whistling wind. He heard nothing else. Nor did Farrel ' s huskies hear anything, but they sensed something. The huskies, more wolf than dog, grew restless and began to howl. And Trapper Farrel understood huskies, and he too sensed something . . . that something was wrong. By a kind of blind instinct Farrel broke camp and set out on that long journey to the cabin of his closest neighbour — John Pick ' s cabin. And the storm broke upon the traveller and his sled and his dogs. Farrel struggled through the cold and raging blizzard and as the storm began to die he found the cabin. Death had won the race. George Farrel put the body high in the branches of a snowy fir tree, safe from the wolves. Near the cabin, barely visible in the snow, lay the bodies of three huskies. To save them from starving, John Pick had shot them. Before leaving, Farrel ' s rifle spoke the requiem. One . . . two . . . three . . . The rifle shots broke the northern stillness. The sound echoed across the frozen Sikanni River, was absorbed by the dense forest. A marauding wolf heard and was startled. —A. M. S. — 24 —

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LAKEHEAD TECHNICAL INSTITUTE YEAR BOOK At The Lakehead HERE is still a glider in one of the hangars out at the airport. It is in perfect condition. I often go in to look it over, and sometimes I get the feeling that it, too, wishes the old days were back again. The old days were five years ago. Then there were six of of us from the Fort William Air Cadet Squadron who used that newly acquired Kirby Cadet glider. It was painted a camou- flage green except for the undersurfaces which were a bright yellow. The wings were long and graceful, with squared tips. An open cockpit contained the control stick, release knob, rudder pedal and a plywood seat. A single landing wheel was attached to the bottom of the fuselage with a sturdy nose skid located just ahead of the wheel. Our first step was instructional; Mr. W. P. Stevens explained the functions of each part, and one by one we sat in the cockpit to work on the necessary routine for recovery from wing-downs, tail-downs, etc. The next step was closer to the real thing; this time we were towed slowly behind a truck to which the glider was fastened by a long rope, and practice in actual recovery resulted. It was only a few days after training started when we were allowed to pull the stick back slightly and get off the ground. By the middle of August (six weeks later) after intensive instruction in turns, stalls, etc., we were allowed to go up as high as we could before cutting off the rope with the release knob. We were soon able to climb to about a thousand feet and to remain aloft from six to ten minutes. I found a considerable thrill in the whole business. There was a wonder- iul feeling from the moment you saw the ground falling away from you, and this increased when you freed yourself from the rope and took complete control of the machine. You could hear the faint hum of the wind in the control wires, and you could see the broad expanse of countryside, but you got a great sense of silence and of being completely alone. I think we all felt an intensely personal experience which words do not convey in a satis- factory way. As bad luck would have it, our instructor had to leave at the end of the summer. And it was about this time that the government decided to apply rigid regulations to glider flying. The combination put an end to our opera- tions. Just recently these regulations were changed and it is quite possible that this summer will once again see gliding at the Lakehead Airport. — W. N. I. Cjlidtita — 23 —

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LAKEHEAD TECHNICAL INSTITUTE YEAR BOOK Field Trip . . . Arts NKNOWN to the other faculties of this noble institution, Arts students are required to go out on field trips, to make the long arduous journey into the vast unknown in search of knowledge. Every second Thursday, the Port Arthur Public Library beckons to us to solve the mysteries of Library Science or as one Arts student so aptly put it — What good is that stuff anyhow? At the hour of 2:30 p.m., ye old intellectuals are to be found assembled before the doors of this awe-inspiring edifice fully prepared for the venture. The equipment varies according to the need and intellectual capacity of each student. Each boy carries a zippered binder containing the following: A pen containing no ink, a copy of Foo, a broken pencil, a deck of cards, some frog ' s arteries which were left over from Zoology, a bat- tered copy of Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (that ' s French for Applied Science), half an eraser, a picture of the person the boys of this school admire more than any other: Pago, and several pages of notes taken during a lecture to prove to University Forestry that Arts students can at least stay awake. The girls ' equipment differs somewhat. In their binders one will find a pen without its top, a straight pen without a nib, an English-German Dictionary, four pencils, H.B., 2H, 3H, and 6H (you never know when you might just happen to be walking through the drafting room and be asked for a pencil), a tube of lipstick, some Kleenex, a copy of Modern Screen, a compact which from time to time opens on its own accord covering everything with a film of powder, a copy of True Love, and a page of notes taken on the character of Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice because Laurence Olivier was so won- derful in the movie. It was in this manner the members of the Arts Faculty were gathered suitably equipped for Library Science several weeks ago. We left the school early, that is, not quite as late as we left the time before, and moved off slowly down Cumberland Street glancing now and again at our maps and compasses to keep from straying off the trail. All went smoothly until we reached the vicinity of the Lyceum Theatre. Here we faced our first challenge. The time had come for us to make the big decision of our lives. Should we continue on our way to the Library or should we answer the call of culture and go to see a double feature which happened to be ' The Dakota ' Kid and for added enjoyment The Body Snatchers. Not only was this double bill of the highest calibre but it was Foto-Nite. As Shakespeare once said, Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon ' em. Who wouldn ' t want that Foto-Nite