Notes from Sue: I am always on the look-out for something new to post. A few days ago Dad asked me to help him find an old Wordperfect file he wanted to work on. While checking for it on his laptop I came across a file called ” Early days at Fort Battleford”. What is was like for Dad when he first started his new job at The Fort sounded interesting to me : How did he get the job?, Why had he left teaching?, What was it like setting up the museum?. Anyway, I emailed the file to myself to use later and kept looking for Dad’s needed file. About a week later I decided it was time to use the Battleford file. I tried opening the file from my email but it was made in an old version of Wordperfect and my laptop couldn’t open it. Not being a computer whiz the easiest way for me to get it was to go back to Dad’s laptop and print it. “Oh. My. Gosh! Take my advice, always check how long something is before you hit print! It was 168 pages long. Dad had written his memories of his whole career with Parks Canada.

In one way this is a treasure trove of stories that will be appearing on “A Touch of History” blog. But, it will also be a big project – reading and choosing what to post. Not everything, I think, will be of general interest. I know he and I will also spend hours talking about each story. Yesterday we spent about an hour just discussing the order of two phrases in one sentence. I also almost always have questions about some detail or other in a story and that gets Dad talking, explaining and expanding on what happened. So, for every one page post you get to read he and I spend several hours getting it posted.

Dad started the story of his time with Parks Canada with a couple tales about how the fort impacted his childhood and early life. Here is one that is a favorite of mine.

As teenagers, my brother Frank, and I, with our chums, Bill and Joe Steele planned a marathon bicycle trip. We would travel to Denholm, cross the Baljennie ferry, then take the old Battleford/Saskatoon trail through the Eagle Hills, follow the south bank of the North Saskatchewan River back to Battleford, cross the bridge, go through the Saskatchewan (Mental) Hospital grounds and finally arrive back home. We left early, taking along lard, bread and frying pan, confidant that we could catch fish in the river for our lunch. About noon we stopped to fish but neither time nor patience gave us any success. We caught nothing. Undaunted, we fried up the bread in the lard and seasoned by strong pangs of hunger enjoyed our delicious if meager lunch.

Meal done, we continued on our way, struggling along the rutted trail winding through the sand hills. Stopping to rest in a small clearing our interest was peaked by what looked like a crude doorway into a bank. Going inside we found a small cave-like room dug out of the hill. There was a flat slab of stone jutting out of the wall sufficiently to allow someone to sit up to it and use as a table. A stump sized block of wood sat next to it and must have served as a stool. Little else was in this tiny abode, except for a powder horn hanging on a wall. This I took into my possession. The origins of that primitive home remains unknown to me and, in fact, I might have thought it only a day dream had it not been for the evidence of the powder horn that remains to this day as a personal keep sake.

Back on the trail we struggled on, finally crossing the Battle River Bridge, then stopping at the abandoned North West Mounted Police Barracks – Fort Battleford. To our disappointment everything was in ruins, vandalized and filthy. Road building contractor, Harry Stewart, had used the buildings to stable the large herd of horses he used to power his construction equipment, and had left them uncleaned of manure and feed. Grain lay rotted on the floor, wet from rain that had entered through broken windows and leaking rooves. Evidence of rats and their stench was everywhere. I was appalled that the public’s property could be so abusively used and uncared for. Better for my romantic imaginary vision of the fort if I had not seen such desecration but perhaps the anger and sadness it generated did have something to do with my desire to later apply for the position at the fort.

After that, cycling on toward home got to be a sheer trial of endurance as the long summer day dragged into evening. Tired and hungry, we began to wonder if that long trip had been such a good idea. As we neared the turn off at Brada to Steele’s, Bill suddenly put on a great burst of energy and sped away saying, “Well, it’s suppertime!” He left us behind just as though we had been holding him back and he was as fresh as when we took off many hours before. Another two miles and Frank and I were able to enjoy the luxury of food. How quickly a boy’s energy and spirits can be restored with a good meal.

This is my (Sue) attempt to show Dad’s route that day. Not great but I hope you get the idea of the magnitude of those boys’ undertaking.