The barges would chug up and down the McKenzie all summer long, from break-up, when the river was finally freed of its sheath of ice, until freeze-up, when the myriad waterways became impassable until the following summer. Much cheaper than sending supplies by air, those huge container carriers were the work horses in the supply chain.

I remember the sheer, heady excitement of the last barge of the season. Large cartons would be delivered to our house, the contents carefully inspected by my parents. No “quinquereme of Nineveh” was ever more greatly anticipated, nor could any cargo “from distant Ophir” have seemed any more precious than that sent to us by our families in the south – tinned oranges, to be saved and savored at Christmas; brightly wrapped parcels, to be squirreled away heaven only knew where for that same event; new clothes for school in the Fall; lovely tinned delicacies, to be instantly turned into an occasion to share them in a meal with our neighbors; new pencils and cases; pencil crayons; scissors and glue and other, assorted school supplies to be pored over and carried proudly to class the first day of school…all manner of treats and bounty not available at our local Hudson’s Bay store.

The Hudson’s Bay factor, the man in charge of receiving furs for the Bay, and selling or trading goods in that territory, kept a good stock of canned and dried staples laid in, as did the main stores at the base commissary, but the cost of shopping from the factor was beyond our means, and the commissary carried limited stock – mostly dehydrated vegetables and fruits as well as some canned goods – but canned goods were very heavy in comparison, and therefore more expensive.

My mother made her own bread and biscuits, and quickly learned to prepare tasty meals using dried foods, and we quickly learned to appreciate them – they were a fact of life up there. The only dried food we truly balked at was powdered skimmed milk. Unless prepared ahead of time and left to chill for several hours, or overnight if possible, it can have a rather nasty, grainy scum of un-dissolved particles, and the flavor leaves something to be desired. We would use it on our porridge, but drink it?…woe betide our poor mother if the milk had not sat in the fridge overnight.

Freeze-up put an end to the barges as the ice in the channels built up and choked off transportation. Checking the ice, and pronouncing it thick enough for travelling was an annual Big Event, for until the river ice was solid enough to support the regular bush plane traffic, there would be no supplies.

Break-up though was an even bigger event, occasioning a pool that usually involved most of the town as well as every man on the base. From Royal Canadian Mounted Police constable, to navy hand (enlisted men), to the school principal and the base commander, everyone took part in this most important celebration of re-linking our little community with the outside world.

We would hear the river groaning and creaking throughout the night, and then, in the morning, sparkling blue waters would greet our eyes with only a few cast-up ice pans to remind of the solid sheet of only a few weeks before.

I will leave you for now with a picture of one of my other favorite things – the northern lights, the Aurora Borealis…