Broad Is the Way: Stories from Mayerthorpe

8 In a Pinch, Use Tarpaper

eight In a Pinch, Use Tarpaper We had just finished our coffee and listened to the eight o’clock news when Jim pulled back his chair and said, “Monday is supposed to be my day off, and by gosh this time I’m going to take it. I’ve still got my column to write for the Mayerthorpe Review, and I’m supposed to go to Cy Philips Hardware this morning to meet with the businessmen who want me to help them plan a skating carnival for next winter. I think I can let the column wait a bit—I’ll do it tonight. I’ll phone Cy and tell him I won’t be at his meeting because I’ve something more pressing I have to do.” Putting down the phone, he said he didn’t know anything about skating carnivals. Sometimes he wished people taking on a new project wouldn’t always assume that he’d know how to do it because he came from the East. “I want to go to Surprise Lake and find out whether Whitecourt Lumber has delivered the siding they promised for the cookhouse. I need it within a couple of weeks so we can start building as soon as seeding is finished.” The building was intended for what Jim hoped would mark the beginning of a permanent summer camp for children—a project Jim had dreamed about ever since he’d come to Mayerthorpe. The previous summer, we’d taken our holidays camping on the lake, exploring it in a fragile birchbark canoe lent to us by a man whose Indian grandfather had made it. The canoe was so fragile it bulged in the middle, making me want to stop paddling and look back and check to see if Jim was still coming. By the time we circled the lake and landed safely ashore, we assured ourselves that the site was, indeed, a perfect place for a children’s camp. I jumped at the chance for an all-day outing to Surprise Lake. I made a quick lunch of sandwiches, filled a Thermos, and we were off. A children’s camp was something relatively rare in Alberta at the time, and non-existent within a hundred miles north and west of 35 Edmonton. Jim and I had both experienced the delights of going to camp as children, and later working as camp counsellors, and knew well the many benefits that could ensue. I shared heartily in Jim’s dream. When we got to the site, we saw that the wood siding had arrived, and for a few moments we just revelled in the beauty of the place. It was a jewel of a little lake, set on several acres of Crown land, with no sign of human habitation. Except for a narrow bit of sand beach, the whole perfect circle of it was marked out by trees whose branches were blossoming into a soft, lacy green, shimmering in the May sun. On the far side was a small tree-covered island, its green lace reflected in the water. We didn’t linger over lunch because Jim was anxious to map out the site. He’d asked for enough siding to build a three-walled structure about twenty-four feet long and twelve wide, open at the front. He thought he could wall in sleeping quarters for the cook at one end, leaving enough room for a cookstove and supplies and providing shelter for fifteen to twenty boys to eat, should it rain. He and the campers would sleep in tents. He checked out the siding, which was, as he expected, full of knotholes and cracks, it being a donation of thirdgrade lumber. Whitecourt had sent studding for the whole structure, siding for the walls, but nothing for the roof. That would be a problem for another day. Today, Jim wanted to put in stakes, marking where the shelter would stand, so that the building could start once spring seeding was finished and he could get some volunteers from the farming community to help. Most farmers would be able to help for only a day or two, but the shelter would have to be finished before haying started. He was planning one experimental camp for the middle of July, hoping for an enthusiastic response, which might engender support for something better. After he’d staked out the place for the building, he thought he’d better figure out where to put a makeshift...