Dad’s Adventures

I am going to begin this story by telling you a little about my dad. His name - Frank Lord. Dad spent much of his life commercial fishing, working in the bush, and hunting.

Dad passed away July 23 2019. This is my small tribute to him.

One of the adventures:

Dad did a lot of heli-logging. During one of his times out working, he had quite the adventure. One that he never forgot.

Well actually he had many adventures that were memorable to say the least.

You know how you hear people say “Oh, to be a bird 🦅 and fly the open sky, the gorgeous sights and the adrenaline rush one would experience”.

This particular day, dad had finished up logging, and now the logs would be air lifted by helicopter; hence the name heli-logging, to be transferred to their final destination.

The men always watched until the helicopter was out of sight. As they watched, at first the logs would be right overhead. Any problems with logs snapping loose was far and few in between.

This happened to be one of those far in between days. A log came crashing down on my dad! Splitting his hard-hat in several pieces. Of course he was hit unconscious.

When he awoke he was swinging in mid-air! Dangling from a helicopter. One could only imagine how disoriented he would have been.

He literally swung all the way to Victoria Hospital, where he recovered well.

That would’ve been one-hell-of-a-helicopter-ride!!

Dad survived that adventure, and it wouldn’t take long before he’d be on his next.

One time dad was working with other men-who stayed in camp, while dad had decided to stay alone in a bush cabin. Miles away from the camp.

Dad was very social but at times he enjoyed doing his own thing. For some bizarre reason he hadn’t taken his rifle on this work trip.

To get on with the story-

He just so happened to be relieving himself in the middle of the night. He was standing by his wood-cutting-stump, which had his axe driven into it.

When out of the blackness of the night-a humongous black bear charged him.

My dad is telling the rest of this story.

“I was successful with stabbing the bear, but not successful enough. The chase was on. I took another swing at the bear, then letting go of the axe, I grabbed the pot of hot water on the old potbelly stove - threw the pot at the old miserable, now wounded bear. There was no window in the frame-and I dove straight out it.

I ran for my life-like a fire-was-under-my-ass! Ran to my van, praising myself for always leaving the key in the ignition. I started it and drove off, when the son-of-a-bitch got a death grip on the drivers door.

I sped down the dark-grassy pathway and managed to slam the door into a tree, which loosened its grip and made him bounce off.

I was glad that worked! I drove a little further in the dense woods. I managed to get the door shut, though it was dent to shit! I crawled into the back and slept the rest of the night”!

That morning, dad drove the seven hours back home, he had a much needed shower! Grabbed his 30-06, and headed back to work. This time dad decided to stay in camp with the rest of the men.

Within a few days - dad shot quite a few troublesome bears.

That was far from dad’s last bear-encounters.

A couple years later dad was cutting cedar shakes out at Anquon Lake. These shakes are taken off massive size trees.

At fourteen I was hired by my dad to work out their for him. So I witnessed all that was included in camp life. Including the howling wolves. Grizzly tracks - and so on.

My dad had also hired a nice old guy from town.

With his 2100 Husqvarna chainsaw dad had started sawing on one side of this humongous monster of a tree, and was making his way around it - when here is two bear cubs to greet him.

Dad slowly backed himself away, circling to the other side, and there’s the mamma!

So now dad backs himself completely away from the tree-with his saw running at full throttle, keeping the saw straight out in front of himself.

The three bears eventually leave and make their way back to the heavy thickets of the forest.

That very evening, while I slept soundly in the van, dad and the other fella-had the mamma and babies sniffing around their tent.

Dad said that his buddy snored so loud that he probably attracted the bears, and then the smell of wiener and bean farts from the supper I had made-must have prevented the mamma from shredding the tent apart. The three of us enjoyed a good laugh over that one.

There is so many of my dad’s stories and adventures that I could share, but I will save them for another time.

“Dear Dad”

I love you and miss you so very much. But I’m okay, because I can feel your presence with me. You have not left me - and I am grateful for that”.

By Brenda Lee Lord-Hinger

BLBLOGWRITINGNEWS1 ( KMZ2OL)

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