FISHING JOURNAL Oct 1959

9.10. 1959

On my return from Taseko, I called Killick the next day. He asked me to come to the office and was very friendly. He immediately asked me to come to work at the Home Office—I sorted and compared salmon tags the rest of the week. Guess it wasn’t quite the norm that a lowly nobody like me got called to do such work. I was made aware of it many times, but I’m used to it by now and it doesn’t do me any good to worry about it. The girls were very nice to me—and it was with them anyway that I worked most of the time.

    So the week went by—that office job was really hard work. I was always totally exhausted by the time evening came – as I was so often in Rovaniemi. The work day was long—8:30 a.m. to 1700 hours.

The following week work began again—a new job. I was sent to the Steveston Imperial Cannery, measuring salmon. Pink Salmon, i.e., Humpback, was the order of the day. My partner was Bruno B. (his surname is always so difficult that he himself just used the name Bruno Bonaventi, or something along that line) —said he was of Spanish origin, a US citizen—he had been working here for a couple of years.

     We took scale samples and measured and weighed 230 salmon—the numbers for both sexes. Only the sex, length, and weight was taken daily for another 500 additional salmon. This we did for 5 days and Bruno was helping me for the first two days. The last 3 days I got to do it all on my own, and I don’t think my performance was too bad.

     While at the Home Office I met the former director, Don Loyst, and we made an appointment to meet on September 21^st at 8:30 a.m. I took a taxi and was there a little after 8 a.m. There was one guy with his car, but no Don. That guy eventually disappeared too and I got to pace around for another two hours before Don finally showed up. And this other guy with him. He is my new partner here, but at the time I really didn’t ask him about much or talk to him at all. Drove with him behind Don. He has a new GMC pickup—¾ ton—on which he had installed a really handy shell. His name, which I had to practice and memorize for quite a while, was Ernie Brannon. He had received the car as a present from his Dad when he had completed his spring finals at the University. He wants to become a fish biologist – his father is a caretaker at a hatchery in Squeamish, Washington. The boy has always spent his summers working for the Commission—7 already. Started when he was 16 years old, so now he is 23. He’s married; he doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, reads the Bible, and is in every way really pleasant and friendly, and helpful. I think I really made a friend after being together for two weeks.

     We drove to Big Horn in Thompson River to stay for the night. That is Don’s central location from which he oversees a large area. Big Horn has one guy who counts—he’s also from Horsefly. He lives there with his wife—name is McNaughton—McNAUGHTON—so that I won’t forget it. My memory seems to be totally worthless—is it old age, or might it be WEST ROCK?

     The following day we took a tour of the surrounding area. We drove first to Dead Man River where they also were the arrival of the Pinks. We didn’t spot anything there—the river was running high and the water was like brown soup. We placed an automatic thermometer at a place called Wallach, and then went to survey the Nicola River. I encountered my first cactus and became acquainted with the Blue Bird. In the afternoon we were back in Big Horn again—we threw our gear in the truck and off we went. Ate at Lytton and from there it was only a short 40-mile drive to Lillooet along the Fraser. The road was good except for a few spots where there had been rock slides.
     Lillooet is a small town—600 inhabitants. The main street is as wide as in larger towns. A lot of Indians—and many other nationalities are also well represented. A Chinese market—an actual department store—and a restaurant. The workers at the post office are Japanese girls, etc. 
     We were housed at Fraser View Court where Ernie and I were given a 2-room house with a kitchen. All the kitchen utensils are provided for us and also the dishes. We only ate lunch at the restaurant—we cooked our own breakfast. And we didn't need anything else actually because we really can't get anywhere else very easily from here. Not on foot anyway. I learned how to cook Hot Cakes, and bacon and eggs were a success almost without effort. In addition I now know how to fix a "cheesewich," so I am well schooled. And another important skill that Ernie has taught me was how to drive a car. During the day he let me drive by the dam are near the Power Plant were there isn't any traffic. And last Sunday for my graduation I drove all the way to town. It seems that the truck moves even  under my direction. Guess I have to start using the motorbike the first chance I get.

Seton River gorge

     Ernie is a good listener and so I had a chance to talk to him in my halting English every night. I got enough practice that I started feeling some measure of confidence in myself again. But it doesn’t work with everyone—I can’t understand them and they can’t understand me. But we’ll try to improve on it somehow.

    The work on the river I learned quite handily in a couple of weeks. Everything flows very smoothly now—including filling out the reports. We didn’t have a lot of work—only a few hundred fish in all of Seton River. And Cayoosh Creek, which is a tributary to the former, had nothing in it until today.

Banded agate

     In Glen Valley they had estimated the number of salmon to be over 2 million. And they disappeared —it’s anyone’s guess as to where they went. Last Sunday though we started getting news from Hell’s Gate—thousands of salmon were coming across the fish ladder. They should be here within the week, and then this job will really start feeling like work. They are expecting some 60,000 to 100,000 fish, and estimate they will obtain eggs from at least half of these. That should for sure give us a good workout for many days to come.

     Well—where all have we been? One Sunday Ernie and I drove to Texas Creek where the salmon are also expected to run. It’s about 20 miles to the south—on the same side of the river. And with Don we went on a separate evening to Bridge River—a real canyon river. It’s a few miles north of us. From there we drove to a river called Jalokom, but we didn’t find any fish there except one dead sockeye. A shovel crew has really done a job there because there is such a gaping moat along Bridge River that it’s at least several hundred meters deep and three- or four hundred meters across. Somebody has tried to cover up traces of the hand shoveling with a grader, perhaps about 50 years ago, but it’s still there. Where the sand has been transported from there—I never really did find that out.

     The owner tottered towards us from the river bank – she had a rock pick in one hand and a miner’s pan in the other. I was curious and she showed me her find: in among the magnet dust was a hint of color. She said she had panned about half a teaspoon during the summer. You couldn’t really make a living at it anymore. But very pleasantly it brought back memories from many years ago – it seemed so familiar to me. And you can always learn something new if you keep your eyes peeled while you’re walking. There should be some Jade at Seton Creek. Banded agate is something that I now think I can recognize. I found, for instance, a 3-4 kilos piece and thought I was putting it in a safe place—among the other rocks. There it still remains, but perhaps one day I’ll stumble upon it again.

     The falls at Cayoosh Creek are a magnificent sight. The stream isn’t totally frightening with the amount of water that’s in it, but the area is. If my pictures turn out I will talk more about it later. More tomorrow. Now to bed! 11:30 p.m.

11.10.59 – 1840 hours

This is starting to feel like work. I’m supposed to tie some flies as well, but when am I supposed to have time for that? I have tried to stick to the rule that I don’t stay on the river more than the required 8 hours. For now it has worked, but it has kept me hopping. When I finally finish my report the time is always nearly 2100 hours [9 p.m.] and after that it’s not worth staying up much longer in order to be in shape for the next morning.

     Today was Sunday and upon Don’s suggestion I took the day off. But the river was too inviting! I went to Tail Race—the power plant was churning uselessly and the water hole was like a mud puddle. Started along the shoreline to the river—the whole way I saw the water from the Seton on the beach! And fish too – also the Great Blue Heron which I met yesterday at the dam. Handsome bird—it would certainly provide some fine salmon fly material. I looked at it through the binoculars but never got closer to it than 100 meters. I don’t think I could hit it with a pellet gun.

Jasper

     As I suspected, there are dead salmon a lot further down stream than where I usually go. I counted them, and wouldn’t you know it if one of them didn’t have our tag on its dorsal fin: 1-130. So after spawning it had slid down the whole hillside before it finally came to rest. In the same spot just a little way off there was a pile of rocks on the beach. Since I had started this excursion with something like this in mind I decided to look through them. It appears that once upon a time a dock had been located here so something had been transported to this spot. (Later on—many years later—I learned that the turbines for the power plant had been brought along the Fraser—up stream that is – on a barge, and the dock has been constructed for this reason. The boulders had been brought here from the quarry for the power plant!) It was Peacock ore! In other words, bornite, judging by the color. I took a sample with me so I could study it later when I had the time. —All this took place some 50 years ago because Mr. Campbell, the motel owner, didn’t know anything about the matter. I had other rock samples also because I had walked up the riverbank for that very reason, and he took a look at those. One he called blue granite, and blue it is. There did not seem to be any jade among the samples, but there was some jasper. I’m a bit doubtful about that! One he called pudding stone. He did say, however, that the guy who lives in a trailer on the neighboring lot has apparently found a fist sized piece of jade. Well—I’ll have to ask him for directions.

Serpentine

    On the riverbank there was a boulder of serpentine, and in several of the cracks it looked like there was water. It was raining so I didn’t expect to be wrong when I examined it. But wouldn’t you know—it was like glass. Smooth and hard. It would be great to get a sample of it, but the boulder was so huge – at least 1 meter across—so I don’t think there is anything I can do about it. Maybe I should think about purchasing a rock pick here?

     I couldn’t stop thinking about it so at 2:30 p.m. I left again and went upstream along the river starting from here this time. There were huge boulders, worn smooth by the water, which had that same bronze-toned peacock patina on the surface. Who knows where they might have come from? On the bank there were rock piles and I wondered at first about their purpose. Then I suddenly realized that they were from the time of the gold rush. Those guys had really done some hard work. In addition there were some fresh panning holes on the shore line. Even these days some people are still trying their hand at that venture.

    As I was looking around I suddenly wondered what the Fraser was like during a flood! The flood marks are about 7-8 meters above the present water level. And even now the river has such a strong current that a boater would have a time of it fighting the river. Ernie says it drops 12 feet per mile. The Teno River [Finnish Lapland] drops about 5 feet per mile if we convert the distances.

    Close to the railroad bridge I finally climbed to the bank. The time was about 5 p.m. I took about a half hour of brisk walking back along the road. The trip paid for itself —I found 20 cents—a dime and two nickels!

    And now I’ve been so sleepy after our bean soup that I think I fell asleep for about a half hour while I was writing this—so off to bed!

12.10.1959

It’s Monday and Thanksgiving Day [Canadian]. The others have taken the day off but I haven’t had time.

    The count for today: 1641 live, 98 males and 36 females. I finished the other one—that is I filled the female scale log book, so I can enjoy a small breather. Now all I have to do this week is mark down only the measurements. I went to the right bank and to Cayoosh Creek—it was 1400 hours and Don came to the dam. He had with him some fisherman from the Commission whose name of course I can’t recall. He was of the opinion that it was time to go home, so for the first time I left the opposite bank without checking it over. Well—that’s what the orders are—I guess I’ve been too careful. Tomorrow, if I can make myself do it, I will check just the left bank.

    So it was an easy day—which is good. I saw a heron at the Blue Pool – it flew off while I was still some distance away. It will be interesting to see if I get any mail today. If Aune hasn’t been too busy with the move [to White Rock] I should be receiving some feathers. Yesterday I finished off about a half dozen Dusty Miller bodies, so I have taken up the challenge. The time is now 2200 hours—it took so long to finish the office work. And after dinner I felt so tired that I took a two-hour nap. The day passes very well even in this fashion.

13.10. 59

Imperial Jade

I slept until nearly 8 a.m. and after breakfast Summers came and brought the mail. A letter from Aune and a package with my feathers. Before leaving I had a chance to speak to our neighbor and he showed me the piece of jade he had found. It was Imperial Jade—a really fine piece. He had others too – some really huge chunks. He had been to Bridge River on Sunday – that’s where you can find it. Too bad I didn’t know that—it would have been something about which I could have carried on quite a conversation. I just couldn’t think of any reason to go there even thought I had been invited to come along many times. But what can I do about my nature? What a shame—I continue to regret what happened. Now it’s just too late, however.

     I read the letters of course and it was nearly 10 o’clock before I got to the river. I just went to the left shore and didn’t take any live count—so I was able to get home very nicely by 1600 hours. There were a lot of dead fish – counted nearly 700—and I could really feel it in my joints. And new fish are on their way to the spawning grounds—they on the move everywhere.

    Wrote a letter to Aune and that took up my evening.

14.10.59

It was raining—my neighbor left at 7 a.m. and that woke me up. I was at the river by 9 a.m. and just checked the right-hand shoreline. I was finished with that by 1330 hours—the count was 250. I walked slowly back home along the shoreline—it seems to have a lot of great areas – I might go out on Sunday and try out my rifle.

     Ate a leisurely lunch and watched the birds on my neighbor’s yard. Some juvenile Sapsuckers are making a career out of feasting on apples—I didn’t recognize any of the others except the robins. Too bad I don’t have a bird book with me—there are a lot birds that I don’t know. Took an hour’s nap and then filled out my report. After that fly tying sounded appealing to me and I finished off 11 Dusty Millers and one Gallina, since I had those started already. In addition tied 3 Kate bodies. And now it’s 2330 hours and my bed is calling to me.

15.10.59

Yesterday I left my pick at the head of the dam and tried to do a live-count as I walked along the left bank. The water was muddy so nothing came of it. Climbed up the railroad tracks and started looking at rocks. Found quite a few which were to my liking—many of the quite hard and shiny. Stashed most of them under the bridge but a few of them I took with me. Picked up all the dead fish on the left bank and counted nearly 250. Started feeling really tired and even worked up a sweat— so I wondered a little about my condition and then happened to look at my watch. It was only 1:30 p.m. so I had worked exceptionally fast. By 1430 hours I was already at the bridge and noticed that the river was at flood stage. Didn’t go below the bridge but just to the rapids because it is a lot steeper down below and the shoreline is steeper and much deeper. Nothing would have been able to stay there anyway because of the swift current.

Rhodonite

     Was back by 1530 hours after having done my grocery shopping along the way. Ate and then started on other jobs, and then after a little while the landlord came to put some oil in the heater. We talked about this and than and when the conversation turned to rocks once again I showed him several of my finds. One of them really interested him, and so he asked me to come with him—his wife is a rock hound and they had a rock which had been cut and seemed to be of the same type as mine. It was Rhodonite. As black as coal, shiny, and very heavy. But in the center it should be rose red and worth about $15 dollars! Well—that would be something, because tomorrow I will walk along the railroad tracks again—on the return trip home this time.

October 16, 17, 18, 19, 1959

Can’t recall the past few days very well anymore. On Friday I must have been rather lazy because nothing comes to mind about that day. And then the hard work started. On Saturday I was on my way before 8 a.m. — went along the railroad tracks to the bridge at the dam and measured the temperature of the water. Took my pick and was going to start cleaning number six. But on second thought I hid the pick it a thicket by the beach and started walking along the tracks—looking for rocks. I walked some distance and then turned back. Found what I thought might be Rhodonite, and then a chunk of green rock that might have been something. Carrying it I returned to the dam where two men were standing. They started hurrying toward me and I was at a loss s to what to do with the chunk of rock I had tucked under my arm. It was as I suspected—they were Commission men: E. Vernon and his assistant, Jerry Probart. I said I had been out inspecting spawning areas on the lake and had found and interesting rock. What Vernon thought about it—he kept that to himself.

Lillooet, BC

     He was under the impression that I had a fishing-net with me. I only had a scoop-net! It was fetched and other equipment in addition. We started our chase at number six—it wouldn’t have been possible anywhere else. And it went very well—I was the one that had to do the catching. Went to lunch in between—I had some coffee and apple pie—30 cents. Then quickly to work again— and it took no time at all before we had tagged 100— that ended the day. It was 4 p.m. when I took the temperature at the bridge.

     We decided to go fetch a fishing-net from Big Horn. It was our plan to stop and eat at Lytton but half way there Don met us with the net. Don had been in an accident and could hardly walk. The car had fallen off the lift during an oil change and Don had been in the cab at the time. He had twisted his foot but otherwise was none the worse from the incident.

     Both cars turned back. The others went to the restaurant but I warmed up my own food here at the motel. I finished my report and Vernon—I didn’t catch his first name and was too embarrassed to ask again—dropped in to exchange a few words and then went off to meet a friend—a local doctor. I tied a few flies and then went to bed rather early.

     On Sunday they came knocking on the door at 7:45 a.m. according to our agreement. We tried using the net in the rubber boat but nothing came of it. It turned more into “pretend” fishing, but nevertheless it seemed to go alright. At 12 noon they went to eat and in the meantime I cleaned off the left bank and a bit of the right one as well. I entered about 60 fish into the test book. And I didn’t feel hungry at all.

     They weren’t gone too long either. We started fishing again and we made some kind of a trap on the shore with the net. We were able to catch a couple of fish, but I had a new plan. I waded with the net in hand against the current, the downstream, and then back to the shore. The result was over 50 fish. Vernon asked quite in amazement, “What keeps you going?” I hadn’t had anything eat or had any rest all day, but I looked to be doing fine. Vernon seemed to have gained a rather favorable impression of me. He asked if Stan had been out to see me. I said no, he hadn’t—there hadn’t even been any discussion about it. As he was leaving, Vernon said that he [Stan] never comes out unless a guy was having problems. And so from all indications I am getting along just fine. Well— that sure was wonderful to hear!

     And then today I have picked up 700 fish from the right shore and filled my female scale book— recorded 120 fish in other words— and the male book is half filled. Altogether there were 37 tags so that I was occasionally starting to feel really tired by the afternoon. By last evening I felt like I had been beaten up—and my body has still felt very stiff today.        

    Well—hopefully I will feel better by tomorrow. It’s already 2130 hours so I have to hurry if I plan to still have time to tie a few flies.

Old Goldmine at Cayoosh Creek, near Lillooet, BC

     Well, as I was saying before, you can see reminders of the gold miners everywhere. These are cold and stark, and for that reason I’ve had to jump from one boulder to another. A few days ago I had a conversation with the motel owner (George Felton). He talked about Cayoosh Creek and said that at one time it was one of the most productive gold fields in B. C. I wouldn’t have known that since I thought that everything looks as it does due to the construction of the dam. I’m sure it played a part, but if you look closer you can tell that the whole area had already been gone over in earlier days. They have dug more than one ditch to the river, and on top of that everything has been gone over once more with machinery. When an earthen dam was built at Canoosh and the water in the river went down the local Indians panned all of the gold out of the river. And just a year ago one guy had seen a chunk of gold glimmering in the river and snatched it up. Well—I heard about that too late also. Now the water in the river is so high that there is no hope of finding anything. Earlier it was a different matter. And you don’t really dare go exploring out there alone because BCE monitors the area pretty closely now to prevent people from messing around out there.

Gold Mining shack near Lilloot, BC

     As I was mulling over all of this, the mystery of the cave that Ernie and I took pictures of near Cayoosh Falls was explained. He said it was man-made and probably done in conjunction with the construction of the dam. The cave led through the cliff to the falls and above it a ditch had been dug that was approximately 7 meters deep and 10 meters wide. The hillside had slumped down on the ditch and covered over the mouth of the hole that had been dig into the bottom. We wondered at the time about its purpose? We didn’t get an answer to the puzzle at the time but now the reason is clear: they had tried to find the gold (and they may have found it) which would have gathered in such a spot. Nobody seems to have completed digging the tunnel through to the other side into which they could have diverted the whole river! Then they could have gone through the bottom of the whole chasm which in all probability still contains some gold. With modern machinery it would be no problem at all to do. The tunnel would be about 200 meters long—that’s all. Have to make note of that—who knows but it might come in handy one day.

     “In the hungry thirties,” recalled George, “the cry everywhere was—to Lillooet, to Lillooet!” Not that anyone really got rich from panning for gold: 1-2 dollars a day, but if one lived frugally one could stay alive on it—even a whole family. It’s not worth doing today. He told about himself—how he started here, and when there was no work he pursued gold panning too. That’s probably where his knowledge of rocks got its start.

     Be that as it may, I really like the owners here—they are very friendly and helpful. And I’ve started to like the area—one could live here very comfortably if one had some way to make a living. At least the climate is good—dry and warm. The last little while had been like Lapland in August. Yesterday however it rained all day and everything go thoroughly soaked. Last evening huge flocks of geese flew overhead heading south—there must have been thousands of them on the move. Winter is coming. The mountains were visible again today and were while half way down—snow.

     I feel myself much healthier after this six-week dose of healthy living and outdoor activity. By the way, since October 10^th I’ve spent $25 altogether—plan to bill them $60 for expenses and I hope they pay it. I actually could submit $97.75 in expenses so the Commission would come out ahead. That might perhaps means something to them.

      Wonder what they will say then at the Head Office? I’ve tried to do my best, and to my knowledge they are satisfied with my efforts. Time will tell. I may still be facing a 4-5 month layoff. Aune has succeeded in moving—to Triumph Street again. At least the rent isn’t too bad—$15 a month. How long we can stay there remains to be seen. On that basis we could make ends meet even on my unemployment assistance. But everything is so uncertain at the moment. —I could always ask Mr. Nagy if I could get my old job back, but I think they would kill off all of the lead hands one or another over the course of the winter. I might get lucky enough to scrub off all of the foundations with Harry. —Let’s hope for the best.
24.10.59
Another week has rolled by. It has been quite demanding—there have been a lot of dead salmon—almost a thousand on the best day which was Tuesday. After having finished my reports in the evening I've been able to turn out a fly or two—if I'm lucky. Well—I've succeeded in completing a few. Haven't even had time for rock hunting so haven't accumulated very many, with the exception of a beautiful red one which out of all my rocks might be jasper. It has rained all day yesterday and today. to finish things off I was supposed to check out Cayoosh again today but it had totally changed in color. It was almost as dirty brown as the Fraser.—From the rainwater.

     Got home at 2 p.m. for a change—even lucked out in getting a ride all the way to the bridge. Two letters from Aune were waiting for me. They have successfully moved to Triumph Street. There was a notice from the bank about at $98 deposit and in addition a letter from Fred Ward: please retain all field notes! Well—I have them. And tomorrow, Sunday, I’m taking a vacation day (unless someone drives up here to prevent me) and going rock hunting.

Translated from the original Finnish: Marja-Leena Tolvanen-Rogers

NB: This blog had been compiled from an autobiography and journal entries by Andy (Valto Antero) Tolvanen. He is renowned in fishing circles in Finland for being one of the first individuals to bring the art of fly-tying to Finland. Andy translated the instructions from English to Finnish in the early 1950s since there was no literature in Finnish on the art of fly-tying at that time. He is mentioned on several Finnish fishing club websites regarding this noteworthy fact. ~ MLR