Relics and Tales - True Adventure Stories

The Pocket Watch

2011-11-11T10:30:00.000-08:00

“The Pocket Watch”
- written by my father-in-law

I first met Charles a few years ago at a motorcycle show in the town of Sidney, Vancouver Island. I was introduced to him with the assumption I would be able to answer his questions regarding motorcycles. Charles was a most delightful man of 80 years or so, and he was most keen to find out if motorcycles could back up (reverse). During the war he was told by his senior officers that motorcycles were not able to back up and that Charles was incorrect by saying they did. I assured him they could and told him about a 1942 Military Zundapp with sidecar that was in my driveway a week prior that had backed out. He seemed very happy to hear this. I sent him some information and photos on the related subject. He called me to express his appreciation, and as he seemed to have an interest in motorcycles, I invited him over to see my collection. Over a cup of tea he related this amazing story to me and told me why he was so keen to find out if motorcycles could back up.

1942 Zundapp Military KS750 with Steib B2 Sidecar
CLICK HERE TO VIEW VIDEO OF BIKE ON THE MOTO CHANNEL

It was 1940 and Charles found himself in Belgium during the Phoney War. The Germans were moving in. Charles, along with the other Territorial Volunteers, were all inexperienced - he informed me he had only fired six rounds from his rifle. I believe Charles told me there were about fifteen hundred men in his group, which was probably a brigade. They were travelling through the woods when they heard the sound of tanks approaching on a nearby road. The officer in charge ordered the men to let them pass as they had no hope of surviving an encounter with them. Ahead of the tanks appeared motorcycles with machine guns attached to the sidecars. As they were passing, one of the soldiers shot a motorcyclist. The machines stopped, then backed up and turned their machine guns on the Brits, they were backed up by the tanks. They lost a lot of their men and the surviving Brits were forced to retreat through the woods. Charles told me they were walking single-file alongside a built up section of road when he saw Stukas attacking something on the road ahead. He said the first one came screaming down followed by two others. The leader misjudged and crashed into flames followed by two others that followed him in. The Brits cheered. Whoever was in charge then decided they should stay clear of the road and that they should cross a field to take shelter in the woods. Charles said it was a “poor idea” and when asked “why?” “Look at the sheep” he said, they were looking into the woods which indicated to Charles there were probably Germans hiding in the woods. Charles had grown up on a farm and knew the habits of animals. A few of the men agreed with Charles and refused to go as well. Those that did not listen to Charles were mowed down by machine gun fire halfway across the field. Only a handful of men survived and were left to struggle along through pouring rain, then they came upon a little village. They asked the town folk if it would be possible to give them shelter. The town folk were kind to them. With warm fires going the men removed some of their clothes to dry which they had first decided not to do as the Germans were very close. Charles had kept his clothes on and had his gun by his side when at approximately 2:00 a.m. he heard a noise outside. Running out the door he saw a German coming around the side of the house, he fired at Charles but missed and Charles escaped to the woods where he hid and spent the night alone. It was the last he saw of the other men. On his own and heading in what he thought was the right direction, he came upon a British depot where they were destroying all of their equipment so it would not fall into the hands of the Germans. Charles pitched in and one of the jobs he was given was to destroy a large number of Rolex pocket watches by driving a carrier over them. He contemplated keeping a few of the watches and felt he shouldn't, but put five of them in his pockets before destroying the rest.

Charles was evacuated through Dunkirk and the journey back to Britain went without event. Two of the rescued watches that were hidden in his pocket became wet while Charles waded out to the rescue boat. Upon his return to Britain and when he was able to, Charles took them to a watchmaker to have them repaired. The watchmaker asked if he was interested in selling two of the watches, which he did, This gave Charles enough money to marry his sweetheart. Not long after his return England, he became quite ill and ended up in hospital. Charles happened to be in the wrong place at this time because the hospital took a bomb through the roof. Once again, fate was on his side as Charles ended up as one of the few survivors and was literally blown right out through the window on to the lawn. The explosion severely damaged his lungs which gave him trouble for the duration of his life; fortunately, he did not receive any other injuries. After this incidence, he was unable to go back into the Fray but was kept busy with various jobs through the help of his commanding officer.

Before the war Charles was a shoemaker of the highest calibre and was sought after to make shoes for officers and their wives while in the military. After the war, his commanding officer called Charles in to his office to say his health made it unsuitable for him to remain in the military, he helped to find him a job with a relatively new German company that specialized in pest control. He loved the job as it took him all over England and introduced him to many interesting people. Upon retiring, he emigrated to Canada with his wife and daughter. Charles and I eventually met and became good friends. One day when I visited him he showed me a letter from the company he had worked for. The wording said "As it is becoming more expensive to live we feel it is about time to increase your pension". I found this most impressive. Charles told me it was the third time they had done that and he was very grateful for this.

Charles was left with a couple of very special mementos — two of the Rolex watches. He was aware of my great interest in his life story and very kindly presented me with one of the two watches; the other he kept, the one he had given to his father. He also asked that I not mention his surname as he felt, after so many years, it was wrong that he had taken the watches.

Whenever his father would show the watch to a friend, he would say "This is the watch my son stole from the King".

Dinner at 10 Whitehorse Terrace

2011-10-16T13:47:00.000-07:00

The Chronicles of Narnia, C.S. Lewis

“Narnia” and “Middle-earth” - these mystical lands are legendary and well-known to many readers, young and old. These mythical stories were created by two brilliant authors, C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien, whose love of myth and legend brought to us many wondrous and magical stories. The following real life short story goes back to 1956 when a lovely Canadian lady, Joyce Boag, while visiting family in the U.K. had the good fortune of meeting Lewis and Tolkien. Joyce wrote the following story and would like to share it with us.

While in England in 1956 my mother's cousin, Vi, had arranged a trip to Scotland to visit her cousin Jewel Baillie, wife of Professor Baillie. Professor Baillie taught Theology at the University of Edinburgh and was Chaplain to the Queen and her family when they stayed at Balmoral castle. Vi and I arrived at the Baillie’s home late in the afternoon and were shown to our rooms where we prepared ourselves for a formal dinner party. Jewel mentioned to Vi and I that we were in luck as two famous authors of children's books were invited for dinner that evening.

John, Florence Jewel and Ian Baillie

Photograph from "The Baillie Project", Edinburgh University Library

Joyce Boag

After we prepared ourselves, we made our way downstairs for cocktail hour, the two authors had arrived and we were introduced to them. They were both charming people. When we were introduced, I was not familiar with the names Lewis or Tolkien at that time. The very large and stately living room was cold so we stood around a small fireplace where we enjoyed our cocktails and engaging conversation.

C. S. Lewis
From Time Magazine c. 1956; by John S. Murray
click here to view photo source

When dinner was announced with a gong, the butler ushered us into a grand dining room featuring a very large and beautifully laid out refectory table. I was seated next to Mr. Lewis and across the table from us were seated Vi and Mr. Tolkien. Professor Baillie and his wife were seated at the ends of the table. Mr. Lewis was very interested in my life stories and also my interests. I spoke to him of my love for horses which he was very keen to hear about. I asked him about his writing and his children’s books, he acknowledged he was an author but did not want to talk about himself at that time.

I mentioned a few of my favourite children’s books which I had read, “Wind in the Willows“, “Winnie the Pooh“, " Black Beauty", “The Black Stallion” and “The Son of the Black Stallion“. I was not yet familiar with his books. He graciously nodded approval, even though I was sure he had never heard of the “Black Stallion” or “The Son of the Black Stallion“.

After several courses at dinner were served by the maid, Professor Baillie kept us all greatly entertained with wonderful and amusing stories. It was a hilarious evening which seemed to end far too soon.

J.R.R. Tolkien
image from Wikimedia Commons - click here to view Wikipedia

I later wrote home and asked my mother, who was an avid reader, if she was familiar with Lewis and Tolkien. She was not familiar with the two authors, but upon research at the library came across the Narnia series. Since that time “The Chronicles of Narnia” and “The Hobbit” have become favourites in our family library.

10 Whitehorse Terrace
Home of the Baillie's

Websites of Interest:

The Baillie Project

John Baillie, Biography

Christian Devotion Addresses by John Baillie
LONDON OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

C.S. Lewis, Biography (BBC)

C.S. Lewis Society of California

The Life of J.R.R. Tolkien - Youtube Documentary (12 parts)

Interview with JRR Tolkien in 1968 and Adam Tolkien in 2007 (BBC)

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe

Artist Margaret Catherine Maclure

2011-09-20T13:17:00.001-07:00

This is a true story of a young boy and a beautiful painting. The image in the painting left a lasting impression upon the boy and stayed with him to this very day. My father-in-law was the boy and the lovely painting was by artist Margaret Maclure. He wrote this short story for us.

I was five years old where I lived with my dear mother and much adored stepfather in a rather large, formidable brick house situated in the Uplands area of Victoria, (Canada). I have two great memories of that time which stayed with me. One is of my stepfather's family dog Phisto, a large Irish setter who always stayed by my side. The other memory is of a beautiful painting of a native woman, the painting hung in the dining room. I was fascinated with the warmth and kindness which radiated from her face, I enjoyed visiting the dining room to look at her. There was a time when my stepfather's family arrived from eastern Canada and moved into the big house and we moved elsewhere. My mother attempted to purchase the painting from the family but it was not to be. My mother mentioned to me the artist who painted the picture was Margaret Maclure. Margaret Maclure was a true artist who loved to paint portraits of Indians and at that time she lived on Dallas road in Victoria. She would invite them to tea and ask if they would sit for her that she could paint them. Some did stay and sat for her, while others were concerned that having their portrait done would cause them to lose their spiritual power.

A friend of my mother, Mae John, tells a story of taking Margaret out to paint a chief of a village. Mae was given permission from the chief to paint his portrait. As they drove towards his home up a long driveway off the West Saanich road (Victoria), the chief obviously had a change of heart and was spotted by the two ladies escaping through his back door in a highly motivated dash towards the nearby woods.

Forty years later I heard mention that four Margaret Maclure paintings came up for sale at Lund's auction house in Victoria. I immediately went to the auction and to my surprise, there she was, a smaller painting with the familiar lovely face. We managed to purchase all four paintings and a friend of mine took one of them. Two years ago I did a trade with an art collector and acquired two more of Margaret’s paintings.

Margaret Maclure was the wife of Samuel Maclure, an architect and artist who was responsible for the design of many stately homes and buildings in Victoria.

Born in Scotland, Margaret Maclure came to British Columbia in 1899. Working in watercolour, she painted in both a traditional and oriental style and her subjects include portraits and native genre. A recognized pianist, she was married to Samuel Maclure. Biography courtesy of The Collector's Dictionary of Canadian Artists at Auction: Volume III: M-R

Websites to visit:

Margaret Catherine Maclure
- Ask Art

The Art and Architecture of Samuel Maclure
- Helen Edwards

Samuel Maclure - Wikipedia

Samuel Maclure
- Dictionary of Canadian Biography

Morris Dancers Etched in Bone

2011-09-13T17:40:00.000-07:00

Illustration of William Kempe morris dancing from London to Norwich in 1600 (Wikipedia)

I do love photographing and writing about these beautiful pieces of art, they provide me with hours of pleasure and hours of reading material. Many of these objects have a story and connection with the people that made them, they give us a glimpse into history and how life was long ago. We 'touch' the past when holding one of these precious objects. A piece of whalebone art can stir the imagination and cause one to explore a world of scrimshaw, carving tools, whaling and trading, pirates, men lost at sea and sea monsters (that is a good one for the imagination - we will do a posting on sea monsters at some point !). It is very important that we respect and preserve pieces from our past - once they are gone - they are gone.

I never know which tool or artifact my father-in-law will surprise me with for our new blog stories here on Relics and Tales. He loves to surprise us with very interesting and unusual items and his hopes are that we will learn from this experience. It is so easy to get caught up with technology and a fast-paced world and to lose touch with creative potential and practical skills. The ancestors of our world have much to teach us today.

A little piece of history are these beautiful whalebone scrimshaw Morris dance sticks, carved by whalers and the date is shown. These sticks were probably played like spoons which gave a great rhythm and sound. We attach a few photos for you and hope you enjoy this visit. Thank you so much for visiting our website! If you have any questions or thoughts, please leave us a message in the 'comments' section. We appreciate feedback from our viewers. Thank you!

Interesting Websites:

Morris Dance - Wikipedia

Morris Dancers in the Cotswolds

Scrimshaw - Wikipedia

Morris Dancing in Oxford - Youtube

Whaling and a Dipping Pot

2011-09-08T14:09:00.000-07:00

Our newest 'whatsit' today is a lovely copper pot which belongs to my father-in-law. This pouring pot has a history linked to the whaling industry. It was used for removing whale oil from a large rendering pot, the oil was poured into barrels where they would then be transported by ship. The pot once had a long handle attached which enabled the fishermen to dip it into a big pot (Try Pot) where they would not be splashed with hot oil. The whaling industry dates back to prehistoric and medieval times and thankfully came to an end early twentieth century when petroleum and electricity became the prime sources of lighting and heat for homes.

We include a few photos of the lovely copper pot which was made by V. Astor, New York, dated early 19th century. Thank you again for visiting us here, we appreciate your visits!

Interesting Websites:

Mystic Seaport - Preserving the Last Wooden Whaleship in the World

John Jacob Astor - Wikipedia

Charles W. Morgan (Whaling ship) - Wikipedia

Whale Craft - Brief Description of Whaling Tools
Scrimshaw and Whaling
West Sea Company

A Brief History of Whaling

Thar She Blows - by Bob Brooke

Trywork - Wikipedia

Commercial Fishers: Whaling

Whaling Tools in the Nantucket Whaling Museum
By Robert E. Hellman

History of Whaling - Wikipedia

Alaska Eskimo Whaling

A Blacksmith Remember His Whaling Days

Whaling in Early New Zealand
by Anthony G. Flude

A Spanish Doubloon

2011-09-05T12:11:00.000-07:00

A small artifact can embody so much history - if only it could speak and tell us its story. Here we have a Spanish doubloon which dates back to the sixteenth century. This piece was found by a diver at B assas da India atoll off the Mozambican coast near South Africa - a most treacherous reef and graveyard for many ships where salvage divers have recovered many artifacts and Spanish doubloons.

The markings of this coin indicate the Royal Hapsburg family coat of arm s which is pictured on the front of this coin. The doubloon's reverse features a "Crusader's Cross," a lion, and a castle. Doubloons were handmade so most of them were not uniformly round and often excess bits would be cut by hand. Doubloons were minted in Spain, Mexico and Peru from the 16th century to the mid-19th century and initially had a two-escudo denomination. In later years, they were also issued in one, four and eight escudo amounts.

If you are interested, please read added links to websites (below) with more information on Spanish doubloons and their history. Let your imagination travel back a few hundred years to an era of gold and silver coins, shipwrecks, pirate lore and sunken treasure.

A heart felt 'thank you' for visiting our website.

Interesting Websites:

List of Most Expensive Coins in the World - Wikipedia

Currency of Spanish America - Wikipedia

Spanish Doubloon

History of the Spanish Doubloon

Spanish Treasure Coins

New World Treasures - Spanish Colonial Coins and Artifacts

Currency of Spanish America

Collectible Spanish Coins - Collector's Weekly

Golden Age Piracy

Iberian Ships

Pirates and Privateers
- Cindy Vallar, Editor & Reviewer

History Etched in Stone

2011-08-30T12:05:00.000-07:00

We just arrived back from a three day visit to beautiful Sproat Lake, Vancouver Island, where we stayed with our uncle Alan who lives at the lake. We thoroughly enjoyed a restful stay and spent most of our time by the waterside swimming and boating. During one of our boat trips with Alan and Ruth, we stopped by the prehistoric petroglyphs, named K'ak'awin, on the eastern end of Sproat Lake Provincial Park. The age of these petroglyphs is unknown - they were most likely carved by ancestors of the Nootka people. The carvings depict ancient marine creatures - was Sproat Lake once inhabited by strange water monsters ? It is fascinating to view these rock face carvings so close up - my imagination stepped back in time a few thousand years - what was life like in this part of the world so many thousands of years ago ?!

Rock carvings (petroglyphs) at
Sproat Lake Provincial Park, Vancouver Island

I have included a few photos of these wonderful carvings - they are a little difficult to view as they are worn from age. I feel these are an important part of Vancouver Island history and should be included in our Relics and Tales. I will also include a photo or two of the Hawaii Mars water bomber which was situated only minutes away from the petroglyphs. These flying water tankers live at Sproat Lake. Thank you for viewing! Michelle

Interesting Websites:

Sacred Places - Sproat Lake Petroglyphs

Petroglyphs on Vancouver Island, British Columbia

A Gallery of Northwest Petroglyphs: Shamanic Art of the Pacific Northwest
by Daniel Leen

Petroglyph Site - Wordwide photos: Geology.com

Sproat Lake

Hawaii Mars Trial Flight (1945) (youtube)

Coulson Flying Tankers Mighty Martin Mars Water Bombers (youtube)

Water Bomber on Sproat Lake

A West Coast Summer

2011-08-03T21:07:00.000-07:00

It has been a busy summer here on the coast of Vancouver Island. We have been enjoying the ocean, fresh air and company of family while visiting the Southern Gulf Islands. These beautiful islands are surrounded by ocean, mountain vistas and breathtaking scenery which attract many boaters, hikers, campers, bikers or anyone searching for a rest from a busy lifestyle. These bucolic islands have become our favourite destination for short (or long) getaways as we both love the quiet rural and slower-pace environment. There are museums, markets, artisans, art galleries, restaurants, hiking/biking and walking trails, parks and picnic sites...and so much more to enjoy... if one wants to explore.

Most important, these islands are deep-rooted in history by our Coastal First Nations which dates back thousands of years before European settlers arrived - evidence is seen throughout with their petroglyphs, middens and relics found at various sites on the Gulf Islands. These are precious relics and historical artifacts which are part of the islands main history and lore.

For now, I will keep this short as I could write volumes about these beautiful islands and the kind folk there. Thank you for visiting us here on Relics and Tales - we enjoy your company and look forward to your visits. Michelle

Saturday market on Pender Island

Stone statue on Pender Island

Sailing Regatta, Cowichan Bay

Sailing crew - Cowichan Bay

Fishing trawler

Kayakers - Pender Island

Abandoned cabin - Pender Island

Bakery in Cowichan Bay

Saturna winery - acres of vineyards by the sea

Little 'Eva' - hand-built by cousin Kim

Cousin Kim with little 'Eva'

Richard with cousin Kim, on board Kim's boat at Saturna Island

Websites of Interest:

History - The Gulf Islands
(British Columbia, Canada)

Petroglyphs - Website of Daniel Leen

Tourism - The Gulf Islands
(British Columbia, Canada)

Gulf Islands, British Columbia (Guide)

An introduction to First Nations' history in the Gulf Islands By Chris Arnett

The Nunatukavut - My Stories Portrayed through Carving - by Sandra McGurk

2011-03-29T18:57:00.000-07:00

We have a very special guest on Relics and Tales and are honoured to introduce Sandra McGurk, a talented artist who now resides in Victoria, B.C. with her husband John. We will catch a small glimpse of Sandra's talent here through some of her beautiful carvings done in arbutus and hazelnut wood. We present three of her walking sticks and canes where each depicts a story told through intricately carved figures and animals. The individual carvings on Sandra's canes are no larger than 3 inches (7 cm) in size - they appear larger in the photographs.

Thank you Sandra for joining us ! Also, thank you to our viewers !

My name is Sandra McGurk. I moved to Victoria (British Columbia, Canada) 5 years ago after living 20 years on the other coast in Halifax, Nova Scotia. I was born and raised in the Town of Carbonear, Newfoundland, population of 5000 people.

Growing up in the late sixties and seventies, I spent all of my summers and some of the winter holidays with my grandparents (my mother's family) and relatives in Labrador. They are the Inuit people called Nunatukavut, formerly named the Labrador Métis Nation.

During the summer they lived on an Island called Seal Island, population under 100, there they fished cod, salmon, whale and porpoise. They salted or pickled their fish for the winter. They prepared jams and preserves; refrigeration was non-existent, so keeping fresh fruit or other vegetation never took place. Labrador’s wild Bakeapple berry was the most important source of fruit or treat.

During the winter months they moved inland to a place called Charlottetown, population roughly 400, where they trapped for fox, mink and muskrat. They mended their nets for the summer and made or mended their clothes. They hunted caribou and seals. One of the greatest past times was ice fishing for both sea and brook trout.

Travelling up north to the Labrador in the winter months tended to be a huge challenge due to the harsh weather and the different modes of transportation. We flew inland by plane and changed over to a smaller plane or helicopter, then travelled by Komatik (huge sled formally hooked up to dog team which was later replaced by skidoos). These huge sleds carried people, luggage and supplies. For me it was the best roller coaster ride I ever had.

One of the best stories and inspirations came from a Christmas trip visiting my grandparents when I was 11 years old. After ignoring our parent’s rules about going off into the woods unsupervised, my younger brother and I decided to sneak away on our aunt's skidoo up to the local dump site to view the polar bears. We sped up the hill over the blind crescent and on the other side we saw not one, but seven, of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen. Their huge paws ripped through bags and containers so gently they reminded me of the teddy bears seen on cartoons. Then gracefully, all seven bears stood up with their noses in the air, sniffing in our direction - that was our cue to leave immediately. Keeping the news a secret all winter long was the worst feeling ever.

I always enjoyed painting, drawing and some wood carving, but recently this year while walking along the local Victoria beaches I felt the need to touch, smell and study the many types of wood. That was when I decided to design each carving capturing Canadian Historic events and stories of my youth, stories of the life of the Nunatukavut people, my people.

The first piece carved was made from arbutus wood found on one of the local beaches. Then a friend of mine was very kind to give me a piece of his hazelnut wood from the tree in his own garden. I am now working on a canoe paddle which I have designed and am carving.

CLICK HERE TO VIEW SLIDESHOW

Websites of Interest:

Virtual Museum of Labrador

Nunatukavut News

Specky the Sparrow

2011-03-29T13:54:00.001-07:00

It is important to sometimes stop and take a break from the rush and noise of the world around us. There is no better place than the green space that surrounds us - nature - with all its beautiful little creatures that live within it and depend upon it for their existence. We also depend on our natural environment for survival - it sustains mankind and the animals within with a source of oxygen, food, shelter and sense of well-being - we cannot survive without it. Once in a while, nature may intervene and surprise us with little miracles - a little 'tap' upon the shoulder to remind us that we are not alone and that we must be responsible and take care of our precious environment and all its wee critters. Such was the case in this charming story, written by my father-in-law, about a very special friendship. We hope you enjoy it and thank you for viewing our website!

A very delightful experience happened to my wife and I many years ago while we were out for an evening stroll through a lovely old farm site. It was twilight and as we were leaving the farm, I felt something land on the back of my neck, I reached back with my hand and felt little claws. I thought it was a bat and brushed it off and it fell to the ground. I looked down and peering up at me was a beautiful little baby sparrow. I gently picked it up and both my wife and I observed the little fellow. It appeared he had fallen out of his nest and barely had any feathers, except for a few on his wings, he also had a slightly deformed leg.

I walked over to the closest tree and placed him on one of the lower branches. We waited a few minutes to see if there was any sign of the mother, then we turned to walk away. We continued walking and had just reached the end of the road when the little bird landed, once again, onto the back of my neck, determinedly hanging on. My wife, Joy, reached over and cupped the little creature in her hands. The sparrow seemed happy to come with us and when we arrived home we brought it into the house. I had no idea of what it ate, so I went outside to our yard and dug up a couple of worms which it gobbled up in short order. He then fell asleep in a small box filled with cotton baton which Joy had prepared. The following day, Joy placed a slice of her home made whole wheat bread on the patio table, next to the little fellow. We decided to call him Specky. Specky loved the bread, he stood on it and pecked away with great gusto. Later on, when he grew larger, he would cling to the edge of the bread and peck so hard he would bounce around the table, riding on the bread and sometimes falling over the edge - it was great entertainment for us! Some time later, Joy made a comfortable bed for Specky up high on the porch under a rafter, but he had other ideas and preferred to sleep on a hard beam under the patio roof.

Specky became part of the family and also a great friend to our Labrador Max. The bird adored the dog and would ride around on his back. At times when Max was asleep, Specky would climb up on his back and slide down his side, Max never tired of it. Specky much preferred to live outside. During the mornings when we were out in the garden, he would fly over and settle on our shoulder, anticipating his slice of bread.

Specky and Max

Our home was surrounded by large old fir trees, some as high as eighty feet tall (25 m) - he would fly up to the high branches, obviously never bothered by heights, it was sometimes difficult to spot the tiny creature perched on the top branches. It would take a clap of our hands and he would fly down and settle back on our shoulder. At times Specky would come with us to our summer cottage but always came to us when called.

Resting on Richard's Arm

We noticed over the months he became more and more independent and towards the fall, on the odd day, would sometimes not show up. Eventually, we never saw him again. Our family hoped for his safety.

Specky feeding from Laura's Hand

It was interesting that we had swallows visit our property every year and they would always occupy the same birdhouse. A year after Specky disappeared, two sparrows arrived in early Spring and occupied their birdhouse. When the swallows appeared, the sparrows convinced them to go elsewhere. When the young ones arrived, one of them sure looked like Specky.

The Healing Stone

2011-03-01T12:30:00.000-08:00

Note by Michelle: I find these stories quite fascinating and am thrilled that my father-in-law wants to catalogue them for their safe-keeping. It is interesting how a simple object can tell us a story and be a link to historical events, people and places. Here is another short story written by my father-in-law.

Picture of my dear friend, Warren Hastings

During one of the many happy interludes with my friend Warren Hastings, he once asked me if I had ever seen a ‘healing stone‘. “I doubt it very much”, I replied. At that time we had been discussing interesting artifacts which we found fascinating. With a little smile on his face, Warren crossed the room and opened a drawer of a wonderful seventeenth century cabinet, he returned with a round stone object and handed it to me. It was approximately four inches (10.16 cm) in diameter and had the patina of an object which had been handled a great deal over time. Warren told me an employee, by the name of Quantrill, found it on the beach at Ganges, Salt Spring Island, where Warren owned a marina at the time. He told me it was a healing stone. Quantrill never did elaborate why he thought it was a healing stone or if he had ever seen another one. Before I left, Warren noticed my interest in the stone and insisted I have it and said that maybe I would be able to find out more information about it.

Over the years, I have shown the stone to a few very knowledgeable people. It has stirred curiosity and caused a few raised eyebrows. Is it possibly a cannonball, left by a Spanish explorer ship during one of their expeditions through the Pacific Northwest? The Spaniards did use stone to make cannonballs during that time. If the local natives had witnessed a cannon being fired, they may have assumed the object had great power and used it as a healing stone. A stone cannonball would shatter into pieces if it struck a hard object but would remain intact if it landed on the beach or an embankment.

Is this a stone cannonball, or, a native healing stone?

A small cannon shot (on right)

Another interesting part to this story is the name Quantrill. Could there possibly be some connection to the famous raider from the American civil war - William Clarke Quantrill? Quantrill, if the story was true, ended up on the west coast of Vancouver Island and was later murdered by two men who arrived by ferry to the island, then left immediately.

Here is an interesting story on William Clarke Quantrill, written by F.W. Lindsay, from his book 'The B.C. Outlaws", 1963. Click on this link below to see Lindsay's story which was based on headline news from the Victoria Times Colonist, August 9th, 1907. It leaves much to the imagination. CLICK HERE TO VIEW STORY

Photo of William Clarke Quantrill, Confederate Guerilla Fighter, about 1863
from the book "The B.C. Outlaws", by F.W. Lindsay, 1963
Courtesy Kansas State Historical Society

Websites of Interest:

Moqui Balls

Science News - Moqui Marbles

Moeraki Boulders, New Zealand

Out of Place Artifacts

Stone Balls in France Too!

Round Shot, Cannonball - Wikipedia

History of the Cannon - Wikipedia

Andalusian Galleon

What the Ancients Knew: Catapult - Balista

Will the real William Quantrill please stand up?

Quantrill's Bones

Kansas State Historical Society

Richard's West Coast Paddles

2011-02-19T14:25:00.000-08:00

- by Michelle

The west coast of British Columbia is a magnificent place to live. We are blessed by its natural landscape of rugged shorelines, jagged snow-capped mountains and green forests. There is no shortage of places to visit where one can find solitude and quietness. When Richard and I venture outdoors for a hike up a trail or to sit quietly by the seaside, we always feel inspired and re-energized by the natural surroundings. We enjoy the soothing sound of quiet rolling waves and glistening waters of summer time, or dramatic crashing waves against the shoreline during winter storms. It is during these winter storms when the tides bring in a bountiful supply of driftwood, a treasure trove of cedar logs. The storms just as easily sweep them away.

It is during our visits to one of the other islands situated along the Sunshine Coast, where my husband and I spend time beachcombing. Richard is always joyful and enthusiastic, especially when surrounded by cedar logs and driftwood on the beach. I cannot help but laugh to myself when I see the expression on Richard’s face when he sets eyes on the miles of strewn logs. Inspiration awakens the artist. From driftwood he has created many masterpieces.

His enthusiasm and creative energy inspired him to build, by himself and without the use of any power tools, two log cottages. The logs were hand carried up very steep hills, one by one, to the building sites. The logs were cut and shaped with an axe, cross-cut saw, adzes, hammer and nails. He single-handedly tore down an old cottage and rebuilt it - again, without power tools. Richard was then nicknamed the ‘human excavator’ and ‘human forklift’ by locals of that island.

One of Richard's Creations from Cedar Logs
(no power tools were used)

Another Cottage Richard Built by Hand

Richard’s talents with driftwood are also seen in his west coast paddles, also hand-crafted from cedar driftwood and inspired by the Coast Salish paddles. I will include a few of them here for viewing. Not only are they beautiful but are also lightweight and glide with ease through the water.

As I said, the tides carry in and also carry out these wonderful gifts along our shorelines. The artist uses his/her imagination and carefully selects pieces from the shore but does not disturb the natural ecosystem by taking all the logs. No power tools or heavy equipment are used. These logs also provide shelter for many sea animals and birds - which we must take care of.

Thank you for viewing our website.

A Musical Spider

2011-01-28T17:29:00.000-08:00

- by the Frying Pan Man

I had an unusual experience in an antique shop where a friend of mine and I recently visited. The shop was quite pleasant but had very few items which sparked my interest. On my way out, I noticed what appeared to be an old musical instrument sitting on a table in a dark corner of the room. I walked over and picked it up and gently rested it on a table by a window. It was a stringed instrument, a dulcimer, and I believed it was most likely played by striking the strings with spoon shaped sticks. I plucked one of the strings and was amazed when a spider leaped out from one of the sounding holes and landed on the vibrating string. When it stopped, the spider ran back into the hole and disappeared. I plucked the string again and without hesitation out came the spider and landed on the vibrating string.

I called my friend over and plucked the string - out he came again and put on a great show which impressed us both. At that moment, another spider, probably its mate, stuck its head out of the hole - it glared very disapprovingly at me. When the string stopped vibrating they both retreated back inside. I did not have the heart to disturb them again so I bought the instrument, brought them home and placed them in a quiet place where they could carry on with their lives. I believe they have now vacated their home. There certainly is no shortage of spiders around here!

Spiders from Webweaver's Clipart

Dulcimer

Websites of Interest:

Rakes of Kildaree - Hammered Dulcimer

Bavarian Hackbrett Hammered Dulcimer

Smithsonian - Hammer Dulcimer, History and Playing

Blackbird

Learn to Play Dulcimer with Dizzi

Artifact with a story...

2011-01-25T17:17:00.000-08:00

by the ‘The Frying Pan Man’

One of the great pleasures about being a collector is where one goes and the people one meets.

If I purchase an item in an antique store, I always ask the vendor if they know any history or story attached to it. In most cases this question will draw a blank, but sometimes it will spark a story and something interesting may be learned from it. A few years ago my friend Ian, a fellow collector, and I stopped at a little rustic mall in the town of Coombs on Vancouver Island. One of the town’s main attractions was a restaurant and store with a sod roof, the sod was manicured by a few goats which happily grazed upon it. Next to the mall was a lovely old log home converted to an antique store and a couple of old buildings which housed another antique store and a bakery. Both antique stores contained a wide assortment of items which appealed to a variety of collector's interests.

Goats on roof at Coombs Market

I find antiques very comforting, for they are the real survivors of another era. Entering an antique and collectible store always gives me a thrill of anticipation as to what may be displayed on a shelf, in a case. or resting on the floor. When Ian and I entered the store in Coombs, I spotted a display case which appeared to contain some interesting pieces. The first item that attracted my attention was an old key with a leather flap attached. I asked to have a look at it and saw the name ISLANDER 28 stamped into the leather. I enquired of the lady if she had any history with it but she said it came from an estate sale. It first struck us that it may have belonged to one of the old Vancouver Island motels or auto courts. I noticed that someone had written something in ink on the back of the leather flap but it was so faded we could not interpret it. The writing made me think there was probably a reference or story attached to this key, so I purchased it with the thought it was unlikely its history would be revealed. I later thought it may have been a ship's key, as they were sometimes made with a leather flap. A few years later I purchased an interesting book on the CPR Princess ships and came across a reference to the ship " Islander", I am confident the key belonged to cabin no. 28 of that vessel.

It is a sad story but a common one showing the hazards of navigating the west coast of North America.

The following excerpt is from the website "Cruising the Past" (link highlighted below).

"The early CPNC ship Islander set the precedent for the Princess ships that would become the backbone of the eventual CPR fleet servicing the BC coast and Alaska. When built, she was the most luxurious vessel on the west coast.

She began cruising to Alaska in 1889, when the arrival of a steamer as elegant as Islander was a big event. Her career ended suddenly when carrying gold and passengers south from Skagway on July 13, 1892. The ship sank after hitting a submerged rock or drifting iceberg;
42 perished."

"The Islander"

Image from Wikimedia Commons
Click here for more information

Websites of Interest:

'The Islander"
(excerpt from book The Princess Story" by Norman R. Hacking and W. Kaye Lamb)

"CPR Ships Tribute - Link Page"

"Cruising the Past"

List of Great Maritime Websites
(scroll down the website's page for list)

"Online Titanic Museum"

The Story of Flash

2010-11-28T13:09:00.000-08:00

For Joy, written by her husband - “The Frying Pan Man”

This is a true story of a young girl and her love for a horse. This story probably would have remained untold but for the fact that I was privileged to become her husband many years later and convinced her to share this wonderful story. My wife, Joy, was of Scottish and English ancestry. Her grandparents had emigrated to a farm east of Edmonton in earlier days. Joy was born during the mid thirties when Canada was in the middle of a depression. As her family had a farm, they had food to eat but very little money. She had a younger sister and two brothers. Joy always had a great love for horses and would ride her Icelandic pony, Tiny. During winter months, they rode two miles to school every day in chilling temperatures of twenty degrees below zero (F). At times, Joy and her older brother David would ride to school together on Tommy, an older retired riding horse.

Joy was eleven years old when a neighbour rode over to their farm on a beautiful black horse which had been purchased from a Blackfoot Indian. The neighbour decided to sell the horse as it was familiar with one thing only, full speed ahead. The horse was appropriately named Flash. When Joy first set eyes on Flash, it was love at first sight. Joy’s father noticed her enthusiasm and approached the neighbour about buying the little mare, but soon discovered it was purchased by another neighbour, Mrs. Kerr, who wanted it as company for her own horse. Her father then called Mrs. Kerr to check if she would sell it to them. She declined but said if Joy would train the horse, she could ride it and possibly enter it into the upcoming Edmonton spring horse show, if she wished. She would have three weeks to train Flash. Joy was thrilled, and after school rode the three miles to Mrs Kerr's farm to spend an hour training Flash in an open field, leaving time to reach home before dark. She concentrated on training the horse to walk, trot, canter and to back up. The two were kindred spirits from the start and Flash responded to what was asked of her. After the three weeks, Flash was shipped to Edmonton and stabled in luxurious surroundings.

Joy and Flash (first in line)

Flash was very calm when Joy was with her. She was entered in the children's riding class and in spite of the competition, Flash performed beautifully - they took first prize. It was during 1948 when Joy and her family moved to the west coast and settled near Victoria, B.C. Mrs. Kerr also moved west and settled on Vancouver island, she brought Flash with her. In 1948, Victoria hosted the International Horse Show held at Willows Park.

Mrs. Kerr mentioned to Joy's parents that she could enter Flash into the show, if she wished. They both entered in several events. When it was time to groom Flash, Joy's heart sank when she saw all the American and Canadian horses which had beautifully braided manes and tails; the riders were perfectly outfitted in their finest. Joy wore cut down jodhpurs, a borrowed riding jacket and hat, a military saddle which belonged to her father. She had a lovely bridle which her father had purchased, instead of new curtains for their home. Joy entered the riding ring feeling very insecure.

Joy was called in first, not knowing whether Flash would go out of control, as everything was so new to her. Flash performed beautifully all that was asked of her. They were called to line up and the ringmaster announced the winner, number 6. Joy curiously looked around to see who had taken first place, not knowing she was number 6! They called number 6 again and finally the ringmaster walked over and led Joy and Flash a few steps forward, where they received first prize of a rosette and a very handsome trophy.

After this event, it was decided that Flash would not enter any more classes for that day. She had done her best performance and that was enough for her. Almost a year had passed by when Joy became ill with pneumonia after a bout of chicken pox. Mrs. Kerr offered to look after her until she recuperated from pneumonia. Joy recovered and upon the arrival of summer, the two kindred spirits were together again, they both enjoyed a glorious summer riding and exploring the lovely countryside.

Another wonderful horse came into Joy's life when she was fifteen years old, his name was Sir Roger. He was born in Victoria at Joy's family homestead. The two images below are of Joy and Sir Roger.

Joy - Jumping Bareback on Sir Roger

Interesting Websites:

Wild Horses of Alberta Society

Beautiful Horses

Blackfoot or Siksika Native Americans

Blackfoot

Photo from Public Archives Canada.
Photo by E.S. Curtis
(click text)

A Short Story by "The Frying Pan Man"

2010-11-16T15:08:00.000-08:00

It was a miserable day and I decided to catch a bus into town. After a few chores in the city, I decided to pop over to my favourite little collectible store situated on the edge of Chinatown (Victoria). The store, Watsons Antiques, carried an eclectic bunch of bits and pieces that appealed to me, and dear Mr. Watson knew a lot about everything. His store was originally Chinese which specialized in herbs and cures. Mr. Watson had great faith in the knowledge and wisdom of the Chinese. During the war while he was in the Medical Corp, he made a study of Chinese medicines. He told me that when they closed the Chinese hospital and moved the elderly patients to a modern facility, the patients did not live long because of their change in diet. Back at the store, Mr. Watson had previously given me a tour of the upstairs in the building, which included little rooms that were rented out, probably to immigrants. I was fascinated with the tour, especially when he showed me a secret passageway which led to a dead-end, just a wall. He then showed me an ingenious device that opened a little door which gave access to the roof, an escape necessary when the building was raided by the police, probably for gambling.

Poking through the cluttered artifacts, I discovered a lovely McClary No 8 frying pan. I had a great weakness for older quality cast iron. I left Watsons Antiques with the frying pan, plus a big smile.

McClary No. 8

The bus ride on the way home was crowded but I did manage to find a seat next to a pleasant looking gentleman who greeted me with a friendly ‘Hi there’. I carried my McClary pan, with no carrier bag, and noticed the gentleman glancing at it. He was quite interested and asked to have a look at it and told me I had a fine frying pan. It was made before the war, after which they started using scrap iron in their manufacture.

The gentleman on the bus told me that during the 1930's he was a British Columbia inspector of mines, he was asked to travel to Ontario to investigate a foundry as to whether the gasses produced could be dangerous to the workers. At that time, foundries used a high quality pig iron. They would first employ a pattern maker to make the shape of the pan out of wood, then place the pattern into a special casting sand that was placed in a cradle on wheels. They would pour the molten iron through a hole in the top, then rock the cradle to make sure it flowed evenly. The cradle would then be wheeled to the side of the room to cool and cure overnight. He mentioned the foundry workers would be responsible for any imperfections, as this would cost time and money to correct any flaws.

I thanked him for that most interesting information and wished the bus trip had been a little longer.

Thank you for visiting our website. “The Frying Pan Man”

Interesting Websites

Timeline of Casting

History of Metal Casting

Ancient Egyptian Mining and Smelting

Egyptian Iron

Little Ivory Fish

2010-11-02T11:07:00.000-07:00

These lovely little fish counters were commonly used in 18th and 19th century gaming tables and were made from various materials such as ivory, mother-of-pearl and bone. I am not familiar with the games of that period but I did manage to find a couple of websites that shed some light on how these fish were probably used as 'betting chips' in gaming. For now, I would like to post a couple of pictures - they are too lovely to not include in our Relics and Tales.

Thank you for visiting us here. Michelle

Blogs of Interest:

"Austenonly" ..."Jane Austen's Life.....Discussed.."

"State of Play, the Gaming Blog"

"Gambling - Colonial Williamsburg"

Meerschaum Pipe

2010-10-27T19:26:00.001-07:00

Here we have a beautifully carved meerschaum pipe by Haida artist Pat McGuire (1935-70). Pat McGuire was from the Queen Charlotte Islands, British Columbia. This is such a lovely piece, we hope you enjoy viewing our photos.

Haida artist Pat McGuire (1935-70).

What is Meerschaum?

"The Meerschaum Pipe", the Nonist

Dancing Wellies

2010-10-16T13:01:00.000-07:00

A Pair of Wellington Boots

Image from Wikimedia Commons

As an aside, I thought it would be fun to write a short post on 'wellies', or gumboots. Though not as exciting as motorbikes or historical artifacts, wellies are rather useful and do have their respective place in history. They have protected many feet ! I want to give them a little recognition in our Relics and Tales and at the same time pay tribute to miners world-wide. How do wellies and miners fit together in this posting ?

In South Africa, the sound of people dancing with gumboots has become a popular and semi-traditional form of music, known as 'gumboot dance'. The gumboot dance started in gold mines of South Africa, late nineteenth century, where miners worked in dismal and damp settings. The workers would be chained together and were forbidden to speak or communicate with one another. Their work attire included Wellington boots as foot protection from dampness, and chains. The miners developed a new method of communication with each other through rattling their chains, tapping their boots and incorporating tribal rhythm and singing. This soon evolved into a form of entertainment and music amongst the miners. To this day, gumboot dancing has become popular with musicians and dancers world-wide. Who would ever imagine that such a simple, no-frills, functional item as the rubber boot, would evolve into a form of entertainment and have a strong cultural impact ?

Image from Wikimedia Commons

Gumboot Dance performed by mine workers in South Africa

Now, when I look down at my rubber wellies, I bless them for their comfort and for keeping my feet warm and dry. I can honestly say that I need much practice with the gumboot dancing!

Click on links below for more information

Click here to view 'gumboot dancing'

To read about the origin of Wellington boots and how they came to fashion in the early 19th century in the U.K., click here, you will be redirected to Wikipedia's site.

Gumboots by David Bruce

Old Nails from Fort Victoria

2010-10-05T11:00:00.000-07:00

I was asked by my father-in-law to add these beautiful old nails to our Relics and Tales. These nails were saved from the Fort Victoria trading post, demolished 1864. I found them to be so interesting and photo-worthy that I took over 100 photos ! I could not decide how I would add them to our posting here. I promise, I will not include all 100 photos! Nails have been around for thousands of years and were made by hand until the end of the 18th century. These little objects are an essential part of our everyday life - they hold together our furniture and the home we live in. Though most nails are mass-produced today, the older hand-made nails are pieces of art. I do love anything made from old iron!

We will include a few photos of these lovely nails which were a gift to my father-in-law's mother. They were given to her many years ago by a friend, Mrs. Dorothy Downing (great grand-daughter of Sir James Douglas). We thought it appropriate to include the newspaper article below (The Province, January 26, 1972).

Thank you for visiting our website, we appreciate your visit.

Article from the Province newspaper, January 26, 1972

Click on links below

"The Tale of Old Nails" by Fred Taylor

"The Black Country Nail Trade" by Arthur Willets

"Nails, Clues to a Building's History"
by Univ. of Vermont, Historic Preservation Research

"The History of Nail Making" by Glasgow Steel Nail

"Old Fort Victoria"
from Hallmark Society, Victoria BC

Old Fort Victoria
Photos from Hallmark Society, Victoria BC

Wikipedia article "Legislative Assembly of Vancouver Island"

"Historic Mooring Rings"
by Janis Ringuette and Norm Ringuette

Dinner Chimes

2010-10-01T14:17:00.001-07:00

Photo (left): Normal Rockwell, "Boy in a Dining Car"

Story below: written by my father-in-law

We are adding a little twist to our website here by including delightful nostalgic sound of dinner chimes. This sound may evoke memories of travelling by ship or train and the call for meal time.

I was born in Victoria BC, 1933, and can remember the latter part of the 1930's quite well. Cars were elegant, homes were built with the hopes that families would live in them for a long time and enjoy them for generations. To travel by ship or train generally was a wonderful and relaxing experience and I was fortunate to travel both mediums on quite a few occasions. The meals were presented with the best of dinnerware and surroundings. The meals were announced with beautiful sounding tone bars that were manufactured by a musical instrument company in Chicago, Illinois. Over the years, I have been able to collect four of these wonderful instruments so I am able to create those pleasant sounds from 70 years ago.

Kohler Liebich Dinner Chimes
(click here to hear sound)

These dinner bells are based on the style which J.C. Deagan Company (Chicago, Illinois) made and supplied for railroad and steamship dining rooms and other formal settings. John Kohler worked for Deagan company and joined Otto Liebich for twenty years to produce musical instruments. These dinner chimes are still being used today to announce meal time. A very nostalgic and welcoming sound to introduce dinner or before announcing a message on board ship.

Click here to view clip of NBC Chimes

Click here to view
Welcome to the NBC Chimes Museum
A Celebration Of The Most Famous Trademark On Radio
by Michael Shoshani

The Sea Lion

2010-09-26T15:22:00.001-07:00

The following adventure occurred 63 years ago in the waters of Deep Cove, Vancouver Island. The Island’s beautiful seaside is home to some large and unusual marine creatures that lurk and wait for their prey…. A young boy of 12 years old witnessed a scary scenario which happened before his eyes. This is his story.

I was 12 years old when my uncle gave me a wonderful clinker built boat with a Briggs and Stratton engine. He gave this to me as I was the only one who was able to start it, not because I was a good mechanic. I loved the boat so much I would keep cranking the motor until it started, even if it took all morning. The boat was kept at a little waterfront cottage which my uncle had purchased in the 1930's, a summer place he had named ‘Pneumonia Manor’. Everything froze up during winter time, even with the stove going, especially when the north wind blew in.

I spent many hours in that boat and saw many wonderful things. One amazing experience occurred in Satellite Channel off of Deep Cove, Vancouver Island. I was in the channel and ready to turn into Deep Cove when I heard a loud roar which came from about fifty feet on my starboard side. I looked over and saw a huge sea lion with an incredibly large octopus wrapped around his head. I believe the sound which I heard was the sea lion expelling air and taking more in. The sea lion shook his head violently and the octopus’s free tentacles flailed high in the air. The sea lion then dove and resurfaced a couple of minutes later, repeating his violent shaking and sucking in of more air. This happened three times, then I did not see them again. The sea lion probably pulled the octopus off the rocks and received more than he bargained for. When the sea lion shook his head I noticed that a couple of the octopus’s extended tentacles appeared to be as long as my 16 ft. boat. I thought I had seen a monster until I recently read that Pacific octopus can grow up to 32ft. across and some have claimed as long as 38ft.

It was a powerful experience for me so I thought it would be a good idea to document it. I once mentioned this story to a carver I knew and asked if he would create a carving with the sea creatures. He seemed keen on the idea but after a few years of waiting, I gave up and decided I would give it a try myself. I decided to make a carving tool fashioned after the native crooked knife. I carved the sea lion but was not sure how to carve the octopus so I used some inlay to symbolize the creature.

I have included two photos of native crooked knives that are beautifully made of horn and steel. One depicts a canoe with a line attached to a sea serpent. The other shows great skill from a craftsman. The silver ferrule has been hammer-shrunk over the horn in a very complicated manner.

It is interesting that one day while travelling on the Mill Bay ferry from Brentwood Bay, Vancouver Island, I saw a creature identical to the one in the carving. It had a long neck protruding about three feet above the water and travelled with enough speed for the neck to create a wake. In a minute he submerged and was out of sight.

Native North American Crooked Knife

Crooked Knife from Telegraph Creek, British Columbia

Photo:
Image: WikiMedia Commons

The Scoop

2010-09-21T19:17:00.000-07:00

I must mention that my father-in-law has some very interesting 'whatsits' for our 'Relics and Tales' - we will keep busy here adding these delightful pieces to our website - bit by bit and over the months and years ahead of us. This is a wonderful occasion for us to view these treasures and take a quick glimpse into the past. This is also a learning curve for me and I am very fortunate to have a father-in-law who is so enthusiastic and enjoys sharing his wonderful stories and knowledge of antiques and artifacts.

Here is another charming little story from 53 years ago - it includes the love of his life, his dear wife, and an ice-cream scooper. What better way to introduce our new 'whatsit' ! Before they were married, the young loving couple would meet after work at the local ice cream parlour where he would buy her a real ice cream treat. The ice cream was scooped out by this very special utensil which made it rectangular in shape and then placed between two biscuits. My father-in-law had such fond memories of these interludes with his wife to be, that years later, being a tool collector, he searched and hoped to find a similar ice cream scoop for his kitchenware collection. Forty years later, he did manage to acquire one which he had traded for a rare piece of early graniteware.

We will also include three other 'whatsits' for today's blog entry. Thank you for viewing, we appreciate your visit!

Joint holder - made to hold the bone of a leg of lamb while carving

Candle wick snipper

Vintage Inuit sewing needles

Old Lures and Hooks

2010-08-07T20:34:00.000-07:00

Inuit Scrimshaw Fish

When my father-in-law asked me to add a posting on vintage fishing hooks, I was caught - hook, line and sinker - by his wonderful idea! He thought it would be interesting to present these pictures to show how these beautiful pieces were once made. Not only are they useful items but are artful in design and pretty to look at. Each piece was hand-crafted long ago from ivory, shell, bone, iron, copper, spoon, and other materials. Have a look and enjoy. If you have any comments on these pieces, please add your thoughts below in the 'comment' section. Thank you for visiting our site. Michelle

Hand Forged Halibut Hook

The "Rice" Fishing Spoon

"Rice Spoon" Developed by Colonel Rice
in Maple Bay, Vancouver Island

Oceanic Lure

Inuit Lure

Early Fishing Spoon

Oceanic Lure

West Coast Native Black Cod Hook

What is that Whatsit - Hiller Atom Ray Gun

2010-07-12T17:51:00.000-07:00

This little gem is a Hiller Space Atom Ray Gun, a squirt water pistol designed by American inventor Stanley Hiller, Jr., circa 1948. This little toy conjures up images in my mind from the classic Buck Rogers comic books, or the 1960's science fiction television series 'The Thunderbirds' (one of my favourite television shows as a child).

Check out t his website which gives more detail of Mr. H iller and his inventions.

Buck Rogers to the rescue with his ray gun!

Dick Calkins (1895 - May 12, 1962), who often signed his work Lt. Dick Calkins, was a comic strip artist who is best known for being the first artist to draw the Buck Rogers comic strip

Image borrowed from archive of the Spokane Daily, August 1, 1946

Click here to visit ray gun gallery and miscellaneous toy gun info

Click here to visit other sites for toy ray guns

What is that Whatsit -Very Old Inuit Stone Bullet Mold

2010-06-30T20:05:00.000-07:00

Thank you everyone for waiting patiently (or otherwise) for the revealing of this mysterious object. This amazing little object(s) is made from stone and is a very old Inuit bullet mold. I cannot say this object is 'stone age' as I do not imagine bullets were invented then !! It is my hope to gather more information and share it with you here on this website.

Thank you for visiting our website, we appreciate your support and enthusiasm!

What is that 'Whatsit' - Fire Striker

2010-06-15T12:06:00.000-07:00

Flint and Steel Fire Starter

Thank you voters, you guessed it correctly. This is a fire striker, flint and steel fire starter set, used for striking a spark - they are kept in a tinderbox with bits of tinder (click here to see how the spark is created by striking the two together). These are very useful when camping, or in case of emergency. What would one do without matches or lighter while camping? Click here to view website to read other methods for starting a fire - useful information in case of emergency. I am so accustomed to reaching for a match to light a fire in our stove, and never did learn certain 'survival' skills when I was younger. Good to know in case we ever get stranded somewhere far away and remote!

The use of flint and steel goes back to the iron age and was the most common method of fire-starting before the invention of the match.
Click here to view information on 'flint' rock.

Assorted reproduction firesteels

typical of Roman to Medieval period
(Image borrowed from Wikipedia - click here to view)

A Bob Harrison Story

2010-06-04T14:25:00.000-07:00

- written by my father-in-law

Bob on JAP Motorbike, Speedway, UK

I first met Bob in 1952. At that time, I belonged to the Victoria Motorcycle Club and there was a great deal of talk about an Englishman named Harrison who had recently arrived and gone to the Grouse Mountain hill climb, on the back of Al Bosher’s brand new A.J.S. twin motorcycle. Hardly anyone knew of his racing experience which included Speedway, grass track and road racing, solo and sidecar. He also had the reputation as the ‘man to beat’.

Someone said to Bob, “I hear you are a hot shot rider, so how is it you aren’t riding?”. “Don’t have a bike” he replied. Al said “why not use the Ajay?”. Bob decided to have a go, so off came the headlight and fenders and whatever else was needed. He took first place against the best of Canadian and American competitors. He later told me there was a lot of loose material on the road and that was his forte.

At that time, Bob and his delightful wife June were living in a small cottage in Cordova Bay (Victoria). We had basically met when I asked Bob if he could tune up my Ajay 500 single motorbike. From then on, their little cottage in Cordova Bay became the source of many wonderful parties. We became lifelong friends.

Bob’s father, plus his three brothers, were all Squadron leaders in the Royal Air Force (R.A.F.), so it is not surprising that Bob followed their lead, and through the war was in Air Maintenance. He wanted to be a pilot but an accident with a screwdriver falling off a motor, left him with sight in one eye. Later during the war, a Vancouver Island doctor connected with the R.A.F. decreed a pilot could fly just as well with one eye, as with two. This was internationally accepted which enabled Bob to become a pilot after coming to Canada. During Bob’s last day in the R.A.F., he packed his uniform and gear which had to be turned in, and tied them on the gas tank of his Ariel motorcycle. He put the release papers, which needed to be officially signed, in his jacket and drove off for London. In the stop -and-go traffic he stalled the bike and upon kicking it over there was a backfire, up went the bike in flames. Someone happened to come by with an extinguisher and put the fire out, unfortunately the uniform did not make it. The man in stores took one look at the blackened and singed clothing and said “what’s this? Sit down over here and we will deal with this later”. It wasn’t long before an important looking officer walked by. Bob approached him and said “Excuse me sir, could you please sign my release papers?”. “Of course“, he replied. With that, Bob was out of the R.A.F.

Bob on a 1949 BSA Gold Star at
Abbotsford motorcycle races

Bob arrived in Canada with his first class engineer’s papers, and within two weeks he found a job with the Government Survey Department. Bob was one of the last men to be hired within this department and eventually, due to government cut-backs, was the first to be laid off from his job. He took on a new job with the B.C. Airlines maintaining their aircraft and after a period of time, the government offered him a job of looking after their Beaver aircraft at Charlie Lake.

At one time, Bob had quite a scare at Charlie Lake where he shared a cabin with another fellow nicknamed ‘Walrus’. Walrus had apparently run out of needed medication which resulted in a temper flare and caused him to lose control. He started screaming at Bob and then physically charged at him like a mad bull. Bob managed to deflect the attack, gave Walrus a push which caused him to fall and hit his head on a bedpost, which stunned him. Bob went for help and when they arrived to check on Walrus, he had put on all his clothing plus Bob’s clothes, which made it difficult for him to move. They tied him up until his medication was flown in. Walrus was okay after his medication. One of Bob’s favourite expressions was “I hear he went mad so they shot him“, maybe Walrus was the inspiration behind that expression.

In 1954 Bob took a job with B.C. Airlines at Alert Bay, and while there he purchased an old double-ender fishing boat. He named the boat ‘Sunava‘. He asked me if I would go up and help him bring it back down to Sidney. Fortunately, it turned out to be a good seafaring boat but the old four cylinder Gray marine had seen better days. We should have checked the weather before we left but I believe Bob had a deadline and would have left anyway. We couldn’t understand why there were no other boats out and when we reached the Johnstone Straits, there was one hell of a gale blowing—at least fifty knots with a six knot tide running against it. The ocean spray was blowing off the top of the waves, making it difficult to see the horizon. The boat was pounding hard when the engine stopped. The charging system was not working so there was not much life left in the battery. It was quite a serious situation as we were blowing towards vertical rock cliffs and it was far too deep to drop anchor. Bob tried the starter twice but it would hardly turn the motor over. He dove up forward under the dashboard and found a wire which had come loose. The battery had one shot left and the old motor fired up. We passed through the narrow channel to Comox harbour that evening, found a pub, put down a few beers and talked about our close call. I complimented Bob on the great job he did saving our necks, but if he enjoyed a compliment, he never admitted it. He did tell me he had never experienced a storm like that before, nor did he ever wish to again.

Bob repaired the charging system and the next morning I heard the engine come to life. There was no way I was getting out of my bunk as I was totally fried from the night before. I was just drifting off to sleep when there was a large ‘thump’ and Sunava rolled onto her side, propelling me out of my bunk! A frantic voice from the Captain said “quick, jump overboard and push us off!”.

I jumped over the side but it was hopeless, the tide was going down, the water was freezing, and I was in my undershorts. I climbed aboard to survey the situation. There was a large stump about 12 feet off the bow. Bob swore that was the way we came in the night before. While we were discussing this, a police car stopped on the road approximately 50 feet away. “What are you guys doing there?” he asked, I told him he should talk to the Captain about it. He asked if we needed help. I thanked him and said I was sure we would be alright. By this time, the Sunava was on her side, balanced on the edge of a 15 ft drop-off. I had never seen the tide recede so fast.

A fishing boat came through the channel and stopped, the Captain asked what we were doing there. The Captain told us we could not get the boat off until at least 10 o’clock that evening when the tide would be right. He very kindly offered to help us. We ventured off to the town where I bought a bottle of rum, just in case I had to go overboard again!

The three of us met in the pub around 7 p.m. that evening and we told the fisherman about our experience the day before. His reply was, “so you were the idiots that were caught in that storm, you were lucky to make it through”. He told us we were spotted by an aircraft and a report was issued, as they were concerned for our safety. The fisherman said “now we have to make sure you don’t run into that tree stump!”.

By ten o’clock that evening, we were ready to give it a try. The rum was gone but we had started on our ample supply of beer. Sunava had righted herself but the stern was till slightly aground. Bob and the fisherman started the motor and stayed forward. With the motor running and with me pushing, we came off quite easily. The next thing I knew there was hysterical laughter and Bob yelled “abandon ship, we are going down!”. I looked in the cabin door and the water was over the floorboards. The driveshaft coupling was filling the cabin with spray, which stalled the motor. I almost passed out trying to blow up an air mattress, I then took an oar to paddle us astern towards land. I was making some headway when the idiots got the motor started, then headed out again. This happened twice. I was ready to swim to shore but the second time the motor stalled, we were too far out. I started pumping the water out and we returned our fisherman friend to his boat. Fortunately, Sunava was undamaged and the water had come in when she was on her side.

The boat gave many years of pleasure to the Harrison family and their friends. Bob loved this story and often reminded me of our adventure. One day, Bob and June took a dear old soul for a ride in the Sunava and she commented on the lovely name they chose. She pronounced it 'Sonaava'.

Bob and June with family

The greatest good fortune Bob had bestowed upon him was his wife June. She kept his books, put up with his ranting and ravings when he was mad, and supported him to the hilt all those years. I was a little hazy about some of the steps Bob had taken during his life, so I asked June to bring me up to date. The first word June mentioned was “gentleman”. Those who knew Bob would nod their heads in approval.

Bob had many fine qualities, He was an 'inventor'- he had many great ideas. He built them and they really worked. 'fishing lodge owner' - he started from scratch and built a highly successful fishing lodge - accessible by boat and float plane. 'Fisherman' - I believe the fish wanted to be caught by him! 'Aircraft Engineer' - he worked on and rebuilt Spitfires, Hurricanes, Lancaster’s, Fairey's, DeHavilland's and many others. In Canada, Bob worked for Government Air Survey's and Mapping Branch, Sylvester Air, B.C. Air Lines, Fairey Aviation and Flying Firemen. He converted the Martin Mars click here to view Wikipedia website on the Mars aircraft) and Canso flying boats into water-bombers. I remember he had great faith in fighting fires with aircraft. He told me that during the early 1950’s he had a chance to purchase some Lancaster’s for a reasonable price, and that his intention was to convert them to water-bombers.

One of Bob’s great loves was gardening. He was always exploring unusual gardening techniques and was very successful. His tomatoes and peaches were the finest I have ever tasted.

A couple of days after Bob passed away, I received a call from a young motorcyclist who respected Bob greatly. I thought he got it right by saying, “what a man, what a rider, and you know….he never got old”.

We loved him.

Addition to Bob’s story, by Michelle (me)

This is a wonderful story written by my father-in-law who wanted to pay tribute to his dear friend Bob. Though I did not know Bob very well, he was a close friend to my husband’s family. He was a dearly loved and respected man by his family and all his friends. This past weekend my husband and I visited Bob’s wife, June, and their daughter Joanne, and we heard a few wonderful and funny ‘Bob’ stories. One could write a book of his accomplishments and many adventures, he was a man who truly experienced life to the fullest. We had many good laughs as June spoke of her dear husband and family, our four hours together seemed like only minutes. Hopefully, one day, someone will take the time to write in more length and detail the stories of Bob and his life.

First and foremost, Bob was a true family man. He and his wife June were blessed with four children and many grandchildren (I lost count - my apologies!). June asked that I write how much he loved children and how they adored him - especially his own children and grandchildren. Bob loved to invent and tell stories, he was a story-teller and loved to captivate his children with mystical sea-faring characters. When he and his family visited Cabbage Island (a marine park in B.C.’s Gulf Islands), Bob invented the ‘Lily Cabbage’ adventure stories. He wove adventurous stories around a sea-faring woman with wet, green seaweed for hair. The children must have been totally captivated by Bob’s adventure tales (I wish I could have been there to hear them as well!). Through his stories, Bob subtly taught his children about manners. To this day, the ‘Lily Cabbage’ stories continue in the Harrison family and are forever etched in their minds. The grandchildren called their grandad 'Grumpy', which originated when one of the young children had trouble pronouncing 'Grandpa' which sounded out as 'Grumpy' - the name forever stayed with Bob.

Story time with 'Grumpy'

Grandchildren watching fish under the dock at fishing lodge

I laughed when June told me how their children had a tough time getting out of bed on school mornings (like the rest of us!) but when Bob would wake up at 3:00 AM to go fishing and ask the children “who wants to come fishing?”, all the children would eagerly jump out of bed and prepare themselves to join him. Bob’s children learned to fish at a very young age and the experience profoundly influenced their lives. Not only did Bob teach them about fishing and boating but he also let them fly his airplane - when they were children! Of course, he was with them in the airplane and would at times pretend to be asleep while they flew!

Bob fishing at Torquart Bay

As mentioned earlier by my father-in-law, Bob was an inventor and a master with his inventions, he was a craftsman, fishing lodge owner, a fisherman, aircraft engineer, a gardener, a husband, father, grandfather and friend to many. He was also a poet and a master at it too. Bob's wife June shared one of his poems with us, it relates to a true event which occurred at the Flying Club hangar in Victoria many years ago - a rather brave friend of the Club decided to turn the ignition switch on one of the aircraft (Cessna 152, which was due for an inspection at that time). Bob's poem tells the story of what transpired! Quite funny. Click here to view Bob's poem "Albert's First and Only Solo Flight".

Here are a few pictures of Bob at work and play.

Newspaper article - Bob fishing with Rhys Davis

Newspaper article with Bob - he invented fibre-glass flooring

Newspaper article of Victoria Flying Services' mechanic (Bob)
assisting a turned over aircraft at Patricia Bay - CLICK PHOTO TO SEE FULL VIEW

Bob's famous "Harrison Tripper"
- CLICK PHOTO TO SEE FULL VIEW

Bob - having fun!

June and Bob

What is that 'Whatsit' - Chinese Rice Grain Scoop

2010-06-01T18:21:00.001-07:00

Well folks, you correctly guessed the answer to this one! This is an old Chinese rice/grain scoop which I purchased some years ago. I thought it was an interesting little wooden piece which caught my eye in an antique store in the town of Sidney. I have been unable to locate its history but I thought it would make a nice addition to our Relics and Tales.

I happened to come across a listing of Chinese inventions through Wikipedia which I will paste here - quite interesting. We can all be thankful for quite a few of their inventions which I am sure have influenced us all in some manner. Click here - Chinese Inventions - to see the Wikipedia info.

What will the next 'Whatsit" be....?

Thank you for viewing and participating.

What is that 'Whatsit' - ACME Dog Whistle

2010-05-18T09:17:00.000-07:00

Our 'whatsit' today is a 'dog whistle' from ACME, England, a whistle manufacturing company. A write up of the company's origins, taken from their website, says the following (you may click on 'ACME, England" above to view their website).

"Way back in the 1860s, Joseph Hudson, who was a Birmingham trained toolmaker, converted his humble washroom at St. Marks Square, which he rented for 1s. 6d. (one shilling and six pence per week) into a workshop. Here he did anything he could to supplement the family income from watch repairing to cobbling shoes. Today Acme whistles are recognized as some of the finest whistles manufactured in the world today."

The dog whistle was used for training purposes. The high frequency range from the whistle can be heard from dogs but cannot be heard by the human ear. To see more information, please visit the 'Whistle Museum' (click here to visit website) which gives more details of silent dog whistles and their origins. Very interesting.

Thank you for visiting our website!

Francis Barraud's original photograph of Nipper looking
into an Edison Bell cylinder phonograph
(image borrowed from Wikipedia)

What is that 'Whatsit" - Vintage Tin Decanter

2010-05-04T11:37:00.000-07:00

What is the 'whatsit'? Our Sunday revealing of the whatsit was missed due to a very busy weekend, I was unable to sit down at my computer and spend time with Relics and Tales. My apologies to those waiting and waiting for the answer! This little 'whatsit' is a vintage decanter made of tin. It was made in disguise as a book, which was probably hid in the library, and may have contained a dram of very special liquid! Aha! What a wonderful invention and very unique 'whatsit'. It has a wonderful patina which adds to its character and uniqueness.

"What is that Whatsit" - Railway Car Mover

2010-04-18T12:57:00.000-07:00

Image borrowed from Advance Car Mover Co.

A Railway Car Mover

Thank you very much to those who cast their votes for this unusual item. This 'whatsit' is a lever to move a railway car. It lies on the railway track where a long pole fits into the open end which then acts as a lever. The other end presses on the wheel which then moves the railway car.

What is that "Whatsit" - Straw Splitter

2010-04-04T13:17:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone! Today we reveal the 'whatsit'. Thank you to those who added their vote. This is rather fun!

This little wooden implement comes from Luton, England. Children would collect straw and segment the pieces through the metal 'eyes' of this little tool. The segmented straw would then be braided and sold to hat manufacturers in the UK.

"This machine was used to split straw lengthwise. The straw plait industry was one of the main crafts in the South Midlands until the beginning of the 20th century. Men, women and children worked in their homes splitting straws and plaiting them into patterns with names such as 'brilliant' and 'whipcord'. The plait was sent to towns like Luton to be made into fashionable hats and bonnets, but sadly the plaiters themselves received very little money for their work." - text from Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery

The Plait Girl - A Bedfordshire Sketch
Before a rustic cottage door,
And sitting in the sun,
I saw a girl of eight years old,
And a tiny little one.
Each loft armheld a hoop of plait,
Fast growing to a score;
For quickly moved their fingers small,
As I drew near the door.
"Well done, my little folks," said I,
Unto the elder maid ;
"Is that your little sister there,
So busy at her trade ?"
"Yes, sir," she said, and from her mouth
Another straw she took ;
"And that's my brother Billy there,
A plaitin' near the brook."
"Do children plait so young," I said,
"Oh yes, 'taint nothin' new,
There's Billy, he are less than her,
And Billy he plaits too."
"What may you earn ? you cannot say,
Come, try and give a guess ;"
"Well, sometimes eighteen pence a week,
But sometimes I earns less."
"When father had the fever, sir,
We little money got,
But a lady kind, bayed all my plait,
And then I earned a lot."
"But mother splits the straws for ma,
And she does more nor that,
She clips the ends, and 'mills' it too,
Afore she sells the plait."
"And then she takes all what we've made,
And though it rains or snows,
To sell it all,on market days,
To Dunstable she goes."
"But mother says, that by and by,
If I makes haste and grows,
That I shall go to Luton, sir,
Where everybody sews."
"I do so long for that to come,
I are so proud to grow :
They don't do plait at Luton, sir,
They only has to sew."
"You love a romp at play, don't you,
On the green before the door?"
Yes, mother lets us play sometimes,
When we have done a score."
"And can you read this little book,
Which in my hand I hold ?"
"No, sir, I can't ; I means to try,
That is—when I are old."
"What! don't you go to school ?" said I
The child hung down her head;
"Oh ! please sir, we don't go to school,
We has to earn our, bread."
I gave the book, and turned away,
And musing o'er the chat,
I sighed that children are not taught,
Because they have to plait.
By ‘Nitram Wilsey’
(Poem borrowed from "Straw Plaiting in Preston, Hertfordshire", click here to view website)

The Gazette, Wed. 4th August

See article "Straw Plaiting in Dacorum" by clicking on 'The Gazette....." above

The plait hall, Cheapside, Luton c.1908
T. G. Hobbs © Luton Libraries

Types of Bedfordshire plait. From top to bottom:
Rows 1 and 2: 7-ends plain wholestraw, before and after clipping
Row 3: Brilliant split straw
Row 4: 17-end English Wave black-and-white improved
Row 5: Imitation Leghorn, made from bents
© Luton Museum

Click here to view Luton Libraries for photographs and article

Mallorca Days

2010-03-30T11:47:00.001-07:00

-a true story by Michelle

At a very young age I was immersed into a totally different culture and way of life from what I was accustomed to here in Canada. Though I was young and probably too young to understand cultural differences between Canadian and Spanish lifestyles, the differences were quite real and the change was a shock to my young mind. Today, so many years later, I can appreciate what a wonderful experience it was to live in another country, the experience taught me to be accepting of other cultures and way of life. One becomes less insular in ways of thinking and beliefs. I remember when I was six years old, I believed that white people lived on one side of our earth and black people lived on the other side. I am not sure where this idea came from. Before my exciting journey began, I looked forward to meeting new friends on the other side of the globe but was a little nervous about being the only white child in a distant land. As it turned out, I was not the only white child. It was a journey which affected my life and has forever changed me. I love the rich Spanish culture, the people and their lifestyle. I miss it and long to return for a visit with my husband - before I completely lose the language. Spain was under Franco’s dictatorship when our family first moved to Spain. It was a country steeped in history (and still is) with little influence from an outside modern world.

It was 1968 when my mother moved to Palma, Ma ll orca. (View short Youtube of Palma here). It was through unfortunate circumstances, the divorce of my parents, and also through a wonderful opportunity to teach classical guitar, that my mother decided to pack up and move. Mom journeyed by herself to Mallorca, settled into an apartment and quickly became acquainted with her new environment. Please visit my m other’s blog which gives more exciting details, lovely photos and her own personal story of when she arrived in Palma, Mallorca. My sister and I lived with our grandparents until we were ready to meet up with our mother. My grandparents, great-aunt, sister and myself travelled for one day until we finally reached ‘the other side of the world’. My first memories are of how hot and humid it was, it was July, one of the hottest months in the Mediterranean. I was not accustomed to temperatures of 35 to 40 degrees Celsius. It is customary for the Balearic islands to experience heavy lightening storms during the summer season and I experienced my first big lightening show - it was frightening and loud.

Our first night in Mallorca, we stayed with our grandparents in the most luxurious hotel in Palma at that time, it overlooked the bay in Palma where palm trees lined the walkways, the majestic Gothic cathedral loomed in the distant vista. I had never seen such a big structure before, this was my first cathedral - it was beautiful! I remember visiting the cathedral during Christmas eve with my sister and mother, the magical sound of choir and the large pipe organs played, the music echoed and reached up high towards the flying buttresses. What an amazing experience. The cathedral is an architectural marvel with beginnings approximately 1230 AD; it houses one of the largest rose windows in the world and truly is a historic Spanish treasure.

Inside the Cathedral in Palma de Mallorca
Borrowed Photo of Mallorca (c) Linda Garrison

The summer evenings were very warm and sleep did not come easy. During the evenings, we slept with one sheet over top, no blanket. I had trouble with the heat more than anything. There was no reprieve from it except for a dip in the ocean or a nearby pool. During our first few days in Palma we usually dined at local restaurants, there was (and still is) a plethora of restaurants, cafes, bodegas and other places to eat (Sa Premsa bodega became one of our favourite places ).

Sa Premsa Bodega
Image from Sa Premsa Website

Some of my fondest memories in Mallorca are revolved around food and aromas from cafes, restaurants and local markets. How can I ever forget the lingering aroma of coffee brewing from the cafes, delicious smells from the bakery down our street, aroma of tobacco and leather from shops - these smells were typical of the area and are indelibly etched in my memory. The sounds of people outside, the incessant chatter of locals in their little shops, the football matches that would blare from the tiny television in the corner street café where the game could be heard all through our street - and what an uproar during a goal! I welcomed the sound of coffee machine steaming milk to make café con leche (coffee with milk) - this became my favourite drink through to my adult years. The frothy foam of hot milk, swirling in espresso coffee…aaaahhh. The sound of waiters calling out to one another as they rushed about serving coffee and drinks. The small alley-way streets with mopeds buzzing to and fro.

Saturday mornings, quite early, we would hear a distant sound of a conch shell horn, it made its way down our little street - it was the fishmonger. Women would rush out to buy from him. My favourite was the man who played a trill up and down on pan pipes, the lilting sound echoed down our street, he arrived on the weekends with his mobile knife-sharpener bicycle, where one could have their scissors or knives sharpened very inexpensively. His music announced his arrival. So nostalgic. I wish we had these very special people travelling up and down our streets today!

During the years I lived in Mallorca, I became accustomed to the culture, food and language. To this day, my love of Mediterranean food and fondness of cooking stems from my early childhood experiences in the Balearic and Canary Islands. My mother enjoyed cooking and I will always remember her in the kitchen with her apron on and the shopping baskets loaded with fresh vegetables and fruits, meats, cheeses, olives, bread, olive oil. She learned how to cook Mallorcan dishes and with her many years of culinary experience, became one of the greatest cooks I have ever known. We would venture every Saturday, as a family, to the local market in Palma which was housed in a big warehouse style building with high ceilings - where local produce, fish and meats were sold. The vegetable and fruit stalls were so colourful and the smells so refreshing. I was not fond of the fish market - tables piled up high with smelly fish of every kind! Fishermen were busy piling tables with their fresh catch of the day - I especially did not like the looks of squid….eeewww. The meat market was a total shock to me when I first arrived in Spain - especially for a Canadian girl where in Canada all meats were nicely packaged! Of course all the meat in the Spanish market was fresh…….chickens and rabbits would be skinned and cut at the moment of purchase at the request of the buyer. Again….eeeeewwww. I saw some meat products that scared me and which I did not know even existed in a meat store....pig's and sheep's heads resting upon the corner of counter tops at meat stalls….I won’t go into gory detail here.

Back to my Mother’s cooking. The meals we ate were amazing - the food was very different than Canadian food - there were no ‘instant’ or packaged foods. There was only one type of ‘sliced’ bread available in Spain at that time which was sold in a plastic bag, similar to the bread in Canada, I remember it well, it was called ‘Bimbo’ bread - the bread pieces fell apart when taken out of their package and tasted like cardboard. ‘Bimbo’ bread was actually introduced into Spain by a Canadian friend of ours who could not find ‘sliced’ bread in the Spanish stores and wanting bread similar to Canadian bread, he brought it over from Cuba to the Spanish supermarkets. Of course, the local bakery breads were the best, and ‘Bimbo‘ did not find its way into many Spanish kitchens. We made a habit of walking down to the local bakery every morning to buy a fresh ‘barra’, the local loaf that looks similar to a French baguette. Also on our list for the bakery were croissants or Mallorcan pastry (ensaimada) - the pastry made from pig lard and flour, when baked, would be sprinkled with icing sugar, was the tastiest pastry. We enjoyed these with our café con leche (steamed milk with espresso).

Typical Mallorcan Pastry - Ensaimada

On Sundays, we would venture out for a drive to the country or beach side, we always packed a lovely picnic. We would travel in my mother’s little blue Seat 600 car (this is still one of my favourite cars), it was a delightful vehicle but it had seen better days. The wooden floor boards were worn and we could see the road travelling underneath us. Oh well, it got us around for a while until one day all four tires were stolen….mom then upgraded to a newer car with no holes in the floor. Happy memories. We continued with our Sunday journeys around the island and visited many historic sites. Click on the text here 'Canarybird's N est' to see more country photos from my mother, taken in 1968.

My Uncle Driving Mom's Seat 600

The Romans and Arabs left a big imprint on the island and it is evident through much of the architecture and old ruins throughout the island. I especially enjoyed visiting the ruins of the Roman amphitheatre, and the old town of Alcudia which has a history going back to the Romans and medieval times. My most memorable trips on the island were to the fishing village of Soller and the village of Vallde mosa - both beautiful, bucolic, quiet rural settings away from the hustle and bustle of busy Palma. We would often visit these places and I hope to return there one day with my husband and children. Port de Soller is a village on the seaside, one travels by train (or vehicle) from Palma to get there. There is a valley nearby that is known for is orange and lemon tree groves and terraces of ancient olive trees. One can travel through the town in an old tram that runs through the orange trees where the tree branches are within reaching distance of the tram, it eventually winds along to the idyllic and quaint port of Soller. I recall many years ago speaking with one of the locals in the village of Valldemossa and he told me a story of the olive trees and how some of them were over two thousand years old! Did I mention that I acquired an addiction to olives - there was no shortage on this island and they would be served freely with any restaurant meal.

Olive Tree

I loved the village of Valldemossa, a quiet place with cobblestone streets and light vehicle traffic, suited mainly for pedestrians. One feels as though they have stepped back in time. Of course there is the historic Carthusian Monastery where Polish composer Frederic Chopin and his mistress, well-known French writer George Sand (feminist writer), once visited and stayed during 1838. Chopin was quite ill with tuberculosis and hoped the warm Mediterranean weather would help him, but the cool and damp winter made matters worse. The monastery now houses some of Chopin’s original music and other historic artifacts from that time period.

Valldemossa

Not far from Valldemossa is the village of Deia, a beautiful idyllic village with landscape of orange and olive groves. This setting attracted many literary and musical residents. The village overlooks the Mediterranean. The famous writer and poet Robert Graves lived in Deia until he passed away, his home is now a museum. I recall when we lived in Palma (early 70‘s), Mr. Graves frequented one of the local cafes close by to where we lived and we often walked past him while he was quietly reading a newspaper and sipping coffee. We recognised him with his big straw basket and sometimes he wore a big straw hat. He loved the island and its beauty which inspired him with his writing.

Robert Graves (CLICK HERE)
Photo borrowed from The Listener
Brigham Young University, May 1970

So many fond memories of this island that I am unable to write them all down here in this posting. It is a magical place steeped in history, and once away from the tourist sites, has an abundance of historic old chapels, buildings, villages and scenic attractions to visit. The countryside has a true Mediterranean feel with its terraced landscaping, the olive and almond trees that dot the landscape and the scent of pine in the woods. The tinkling of sheep bells could be heard in the countryside where sheep and cows grazed upon fields. Whenever I hear the sound of sheep bells now, it takes me back to my countryside visits in Mallorca. I now collect these old bells, I yearn to hear that sound again. The Mediterranean ocean sparkles along the coastline where quaint fishing villages look out to tourquoise and emerald green waters; old wooden fishing boats dot the shoreline, their green and blue colours look so picturesque against the emerald green water. I am grateful that I had the opportunity to live there, it truly was an enriching experience for a child and young adult. We had no television, thank goodness, and never missed having one. We lived life to its fullest, and as a family we explored the island and immersed ourselves into the Spanish culture. For now, I will end here. Thank you for reading my story, there will be more adventure stories of my life in Spain. Muchas gracias! Michelle

Visit a quick youtube of the Pueblo Espanol - it is a small village in Palma that houses reproductions of some of Spain's most famous buildings. It is an interesting place to visit and has lovely restaurants and shops. We would visit the pueblo to catch a flamenco dance or two!

The FN Motorcycle

2010-03-21T11:09:00.000-07:00

-a true story by my father-in-law

A Native Chief once told me that we live in the present moment, that our past and present experiences help us cope with our future. My lovely daughter-in-law Michelle feels the same way and is spending a great deal of time putting these stories together for me. These historic stories are part of our past, we are recording them in this journal so they will be remembered for future generations. One remarkable story takes place in Germany before the second world war and involves a motorcycle.

On occasion I travel over to the mainland, near Vancouver, B.C., to attend motorcycle swap meets. There is one show in particular, put on by Tod Copan, that I never miss, where motorcycles come from all over North America and some from Europe. These shows are a grand event where motorcycles and parts fill two large buildings - a treat for motorcycle enthusiasts! I recall some years ago during one of my visits to the swap meet where there were many interesting machines outside, some for sale and many for display. Before I entered one of the buildings, I noticed near the entrance way a few motorcycles that were for sale, one in particular caught my eye. Next to the motorcycle was a gentleman standing beside it. I asked if the bike belonged to him. “Yes” he replied, “it is a 1925 FN ”. “It is truly a wonderful machine” I replied, and asked if it was for sale. “Yes it is” he said. “Do you have any history with the bike?”. He then told me a story which I consider to be one of great courage and determination.

I was aware of many stories that occurred in Germany during war time, many of them were told to me by a friend who was in the Dutch underground. Properties and valuables were expropriated from private citizens, anything considered of value or use to the Nazis, including motorcycles and automobiles. Motorcycles were much easier to hide than cars. I had already spoken with three people who had hidden their motorcycles on their properties. When the Nazis came to search for them, the bike owners told them they did not have them any more. Their standard answer to that was “we will search your home and property and your friends' properties, if we find it, we will shoot you!” All three of these people that told me their story handed over their motorcycles for fear of their lives. I once asked my friend Dan, of the Dutch underground, how the Nazis had knowledge of who owned motorcycles. He replied that they knew from their informants long before they moved into a country who owned anything of value. Ironically, my friend Dan, an automotive expert, spent a great deal of time breaking into German military compounds and stealing their vehicles.

Back to the FN motorcycle. The man who owned the FN bike was Uwe Werner. Uwe’s father Harry deserves a medal for courage. When they came to take his motorcycle, Harry told them it was stolen. They did not believe him of course and used the same words "we will search your home and your friends' homes, and if we find it, we will shoot you“. Harry, not being intimidated, stuck to his story and insisted it had been stolen. Harry had anticipated this situation and as he had friends amongst the farmers on the outskirts of his home town in Hamburg, he gave each of his friends one piece of the bike—a wheel to one, a fender to another, and so on—spreading the parts around the town piece by piece. The Nazis searched his property but did not find anything. He got away with it. After the war, Harry reunited all the bike pieces except for two, a muffler and a header exhaust pipe. In the 1980's the Werner family emigrated to British Columbia and eventually put the bike back together. This is the machine I purchased from Uwe at the swap meet. The bike is very special to me and I soon hope to replace the header pipe and muffler. When I admire the motorcycle, which is often, I think about its remarkable story and how significant this piece of machinery is as a part of history. I cannot help but pay tribute in my thoughts to Harry Werner for his brave stand against tyranny.

Remembering Warren Hastings

2010-03-10T20:36:00.000-08:00

- a personal story by my father-in-law

When one is involved in the world of collecting artifacts, antiques, and other oddities, there is a tendency to meet interesting and knowledgeable people who share similar interests. I often visited antique stores in the town of Sidney (British Columbia) and on occasion I noticed a tall and distinguished gentleman who would pick up and observe objects that I was also interested in. We obviously shared similar interests. One day he happened to be in the store when I purchased a Sam Bro wne belt, which was in wonderful condition, it showed a lovely patina from many years of careful maintenance. I wondered if the belt was from the first world war period, I had a feeling this gentleman would know. I went over and politely asked if he might help me identify it. When I handed the belt to him he observed it closely and said he used to wear one that was very similar. I was eager to find out when he had worn one and asked him, he replied during his time with the Royal Flying Corp. We spoke for a while and he kindly invited me to visit him, where we carried on our interesting conversation. This was my introduction to Warren Hastings, a noble and kind gentleman.

I met Warren in the early 1970‘s and almost a year had passed since our first meeting, I had recently purchased a flying helmet, flying goggles and a silver cigarette case and had hoped to find out more of their history. I called Warren to ask if he might identify them for me. I went over to visit him a couple of days later and we discussed the items, he identified them as being authentic from WW1 era. During our discussion, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lovely silver lighter with engraving upon it, it was identical to my cigarette case. He told me the story of his lighter and how it was a gift from a girl he had planned to marry, but she sadly died during the 1919 flu epidemic while caring for her mother who had contracted the virus. I could see the lighter meant a great deal to him. “How about a scotch?” he offered, “sounds wonderful” I replied! This was the beginning of a great friendship which lasted more than twenty-five years.

We would usually get together once a week and indulge in a cigar and a couple of scotches, then we would talk about things that fascinated both of us. Over the years, Warren shared many stories of his life with me, I was always enthusiastic to hear his memories. Many people attempted to interview him to record his fascinating life experiences but he was a very private man and refused to be interviewed. I was fortunate to hear his stories and be able to share them with family and friends.

Warren was once a fighter pilot during world war one, he flew Avro 504's Sopwith Pups and Camels. I have always been fascinated with aircraft and was so delighted to hear his memories of that time. One of many stories I have not forgotten from Warren was about his best friend Reggie who was shot down and killed in the first few weeks of the war, the experience was as real to him as if it had just happened. He told me of his experience of shooting down a German pilot. After he shot him down, Warren landed alongside the German pilot and helped him out of his airplane, he tried to help him and cradled him into a sitting position. The aviator reached into his pocket and showed Warren a picture of his family before he died. Seventy years later, the horror of that experience was still with him.

Returning to England in a very depressed state of mind, Warren’s father bought him a Douglas motorcycle. It was a lovely quiet running machine. Warren told me he had a most beautiful ride through the Kentish countryside which greatly revived his spirits. He became a naval architect and subsequently worked for Vospers Marine and was involved in the design of the motor patrol boats. He also came up with the idea of torpedoes being attracted to electrical switching on ships. He visited Watson Watt (“inventor of radar”) who helped him perfect the system. Warren was presented with a boarding pike from the stores of Nelson's Ship ‘Victory’ in appreciation from the Admiralty.

In the late 1930's Warren and his wife Barbara moved to British Columbia and built “Hastings House” on Saltspring Island. It is now considered one of the worlds leading luxury oceanside resorts. Warren designed the Sussex-style manor and hand-crafted some of the furniture and its many characteristic features such as the adzed beams. The majority of the furniture and artifacts were brought over from England, some of the pieces date back to the sixteenth century. In the living-room area, Warren planned to build an Inglenook fireplace and contacted a craftsman who had a reputation for building excellent fireplaces. The craftsman refused the job on the basis that the fireplace would not function, and he did not want his name associated with it in case it did not. Warren said "if you build it the way I show you, then I promise not to reveal your name". When the fireplace was completed, it was such a success that the craftsman kept asking if he could bring people over to see it!

The Inglenook Fireplace at Hastings House
"British Columbia Government Photograph"

Warren was obviously still involved with the Admiralty during the war as he prepared naval drawings for them while he lived at Hastings House. During this time, Warren’s wife Barbara met an interesting lady who had recently moved to Ganges on Saltspring Island, Barbara helped her to settle in to the island life and they quickly became good friends. The two women would swim and play tennis together. One day, without any warning, Barbara’s new friend suddenly disappeared off the island, both Barbara and Warren were mystified. A month or so later Warren was visited by a mysterious man, in a dark suit and carrying a briefcase, who asked to speak with him in private. The mysterious man opened his briefcase, inside the case, to Warren’s disbelief, were his own naval drawings on film. He discovered why Barbara’s friend had suddenly vanished without a trace, she was a German spy; fortunately, Canadian officials intercepted her while she attempted to leave the country. Warren told me this was a good example of German intelligence and how efficient they were. He also told me that during the late thirties the Germans would host large parties and invite British engineers, where suitable ones would be provided with attractive escorts, which the British knew were spies. After a few drinks, the engineers would provide the girls with all sorts of clever misinformation. During one party in London, they sat at a large baronial refectory table and were provided with daggers to carve their initials on the table top. It would be most interesting if the table top has survived!

Barbara at one point became friends with another gentleman who shared her interest in horses, consequently a relationship developed between them and she left Warren. Barbara eventually became unhappy with her new partner and soon realized he was untrustworthy. During this period, Warren met Patricia and they became close friends and enjoyed each others’ companionship. Barbara told Warren that she wanted to come home and he agreed to her returning and advised her that he had met Patricia and that circumstances were not going to change with their relationship. Barbara agreed with the circumstances and moved back to Hastings House, Warren and Patricia lived in Canoe Cove. The situation was that Warren would spend weekends with Barbara at Hastings House on Saltspring Island. Patricia was in agreement with this arrangement but endured a great deal of criticism from neighbours and friends who disapproved of this lifestyle. Barbara would always stand up for Patricia and eventually the two women became very close friends.

A change came into their lives when most of their Canoe Cove property was expropriated for the installation of the Swartz Bay ferry terminal. Barbara, Patricia and Warren decided the travel back and forth to Saltspring Island had become tedious, therefore Warren sold the remainder of Canoe Cove property and the Hastings House. He bought Barbara a home in bucolic North Saanich, a home she had fallen in love with, and also purchased a small country cottage on a lovely piece of property close by. Warren refurbished the old cottage by adding on to it and redesigned it to give it a seventeenth century style so that it would suit his furnishings and artifacts. I experienced many delightful interludes talking with Warren in these lovely surroundings.

After Barbara passed away, Warren married Patricia and they shared a few happy years together before she went. Her last words to me were "please look after Warren". Still going strong and full of zest for life at age ninety-six, Warren passed his driver’s exam and continued to drive his beloved Morgan sports car. He enjoyed his life to its fullest. We continued our weekly visits with chats, a scotch (or two) and cigar. I learned so much from this fine gentleman.

I now reminisce of times past and that fateful day in the antique store - thank you Sam Browne. I shall never forget Warren’s kindred friendship.

Warren left us at the age of ninety-seven.

A Sketch by Warren Hastings (circa 1912 - 1918)

2010-02-17T20:59:00.000-08:00

There is a little book, an autograph book, which had been tucked away and forgotten about for so many years. This little gem is almost 100 years old. My father-in-law asked that I photograph the drawings and poems and add them to this blog. What an honour to be asked to do this!

This delightful sketch was done by Warren Hastings circa 1912 - 1918 - it is signed by him (his initials did not show up on this photo) and has no date. I am guessing the date by the other sketches in the book. I will be adding a few more whimsical drawings over the next few days. These small tokens are very special and we would like to share them with you. Thank you. Michelle

Oh blimey, whot’s this ?
My fairest lady wants a kiss
I do not feel today so brave
I have a cold and forgot to shave
-by Michelle

"The Frying Pan Man" - a poem by Michelle (me)

2010-02-10T18:40:00.000-08:00

I once knew a man with a frying pan
many frying pans had he
his kitchen had space for nothing else
not a cupboard or shelf was free
stacked in the rafters
stacked in the drawers
as far as the eye could see
were Wagner, Lodge and Griswold
numbers ten, nine and three

I once went to visit the frying pan man
he griddled some kippers for tea
he spoke of Griswold and Wagner
and their colonial history

The three-legged cauldron found its place
over hearth and fire it hung
provided generations with stews and such
and many stories were spun

Old pots and pans they swung their way
by sea, horse and carriage
to country homes and old woodstoves
and in times as gifts for marriage

Hundreds of years later by the woodstove I sat
with frying pan man and old sleepy cat
I could not help but wonder why
those griddles and pans were stacked so high
then when he told his stories to me
those stacks of history became clear to see

The blackened griddle seared its prey
its vapours did unfold
not only smell of kippers but of stories yet untold

I once knew a man with a frying pan
many frying pans had he
If you happen to visit the frying pan man
make sure to stay for tea

Drawing by Lillie - Granddaughter of the "Frying Pan Man"