ODDS’N’SODS — The end of the road

In 1961, I moved from a small town in Nova Scotia to the vibrant community of Red Lake, Ont.

On my first morning on the job at the Madsen Red Lake gold mine, I was sent into town to receive a chest X-ray and my Ontario miner’s card. I had driven through the community the previous Sunday afternoon but had seen nothing that caught my attention. It was just a town nestled on bedrock, and adjacent to a waterbody — shades of the Maritimes. Monday morning, however, provided me with a completely different perspective. Within 200 metres of the main street, a host of float-equipped planes was landing and taking off.

Red Lake in the 1960s (and, to some extent, even today) was a frontier town at the end of the road. To travel farther north, one flew, paddled or walked.

By the time I arrived, most opted to fly in the host of bush planes whose services were available from bases along the main street. The planes were focused on providing service to three categories of clientele: the mining exploration industry, which had been the backbone of the expansion of air service into the area in the mid-1920s; tourist camps that flew U.S.

sportsmen to hunting and fishing spots; and aboriginal communities.

Being at the end of the road had given Red Lake a frontier ethic — people worked and played hard. Wages were good and people had money to spend. The liquor store was well-patronized, as were a few bootleggers. Parties were weekend affairs, and the last house of ill-repute was still in operation, its aging madam a pillar of the community. Payday poker was common (a newcomer caught cheating was likely to find himself being helped out of a muck pile after being tossed from a second-storey veranda.)

The citizens of Red Lake were aware they were at the end of the road, and family vacations were often spent away from town. The unattached with vehicles often travelled to the neon lights of Winnipeg for the weekend. A newcomer to Red lake had only to smile and be friendly to be assured of being drawn into the activities of the community. Many came to Red Lake from other parts of Canada to make fast money and return home to a better life. While a few did just that, most moved away with little more to show than some good memories and a few more candles on his cake.

Prospectors, some of whom had been active since the 1930s, moved freely but stealthily in and out of town. They enjoyed the thrill of the hunt and were forever trying to attract the interest of any exploration company that might darken the door of the Mining Recorder’s office.

The high-grading squad of the Ontario Provincial Police was determined to keep the town’s miners honest. During the summer, however, miners were more concerned with baseball. Each mine had a team, and summer staff were often recruited based on their ball-playing ability.

Government officials moved frequently through the community as they carried out their assigned responsibilities in isolated northern communities. Pilots from across Canada came to Red Lake looking for the chance to move into the left-hand seat of a Cessna 180 or Norseman. They worked from dawn to dark until the weather gave them the chance to blow off some steam. Many of those pilots later moved on to regional or national airlines. During the summer months, local restaurants were filled with some of the bread and butter of these pilots, namely fishermen from Iowa or Illinois waiting to fly to some remote lodge or outpost camp.

The times were busy, everyone was optimistic and, remarkably, no one seemed old.

— The author, a consulting geologist and frequent contributor to this column, resides in Thunder Bay, Ont.