North Country Yarns

There’s a fine old favorite video of a young Bob Dylan singing Girl From the North Country. Looks like it was filmed up there. As a young man I once wondered if this woman actually ever existed. When, some years ago, I started an on again off again correspondence with SFJ reader, artist and writer Lesley Schatz, I allowed that she could have been that muse of Dylan’s, right here, amongst we fortunate far flung few. LRM

Many years ago, I lived in a cabin owned by the King boys

by Lesley Schatz of Canada’s Northern Reaches

The old Déjà cabin owned by the King brothers in the Porcupine Hills had a beautiful bridge as an entrance. I was always so busy surviving there that I don’t have any pictures of it. At that point I had two children and was living there alone most of the time with my cat and dog. I often went to visit Raul and Morris King and took them honey from my beehives that I had taken up to the Porcupine lookout.

One day, as I was hiking down into the King Boy’s valley for a visit with my oldest (this is just prior to my second being born), Morris and I were talking about how dark it got when you went down into his valley, just as we were passing his barn where a huge, great horned owl was sitting on a rafter just blinking at us. I told Morris that I went to bed pretty early in the cabin I was living in because with kerosine lamps you get quite sleepy towards evening, especially in the winter. At that point in his life Morris said he was going to bed about 7:30 or eight at night and waking up at three or four in the morning. I found that so odd and here I am living in my little bunkie going to bed at 7:30 maybe reading till nine or 9:30 sleeping till four am-ish getting up to light the stove and finally understanding what Morris had said.

When you’re older and all the work is done for the day why not go to bed where it’s warm, cosy and comfortable to just snug down into bed. You can have a little cup of coffee or tea while you’re in there and then just drift off to sleep, getting up early to heat the house.

The two old bachelors were really interesting. Morris did all the town work with his little black briefcase, as well as lots of work and planning. Raul joined in the planning, did all the cooking and wood splitting, and braided incredible rawhide belts. He offered to make me one but I never went back to pick it up. I felt a lot of people might take advantage of Raul’s kindness, but I didn’t want to take that belt out of principal… so I had many messages mainly from Raymond Rhodes, saying that “Raul said your belt is ready,” but I never went to get it. I’ve always had a hard time taking gifts.

But just the fact that my oldest hopefully can remember skiing on her little skis down into the valley, with mom on her bigger skis from our little place at the Déjà cabin in the Porcupine Hills sharing a meal with two legends while stepping back in time with a great horn blinking it’s huge eyes at us, was gift enough.

A Santa Story

by Lesley Schatz

I am spending today indoors, drawing, painting, and researching new paintings and new drawings. I had fun with this little memory drawing of a friend of mine who at the Lakedell Hall many many years ago for the Christmas sleigh rides appeared dressed as Santa.

He was driving his mules in a beautiful little sled and was a popular sleigh in the lineup, having many people waiting a long time to ride with his sleigh. It might’ve been the Santa outfit or it might’ve been the mules or it just might’ve been Bob himself one of the nicest people you’re ever ever gonna meet (or I should say Santa himself).

So I was standing in the lineup with my three-year-old and youngest child, Nic. He was not going to leave the lineup for the Santa sleigh even though other sleighs had become available and we could’ve been off and running having fun with all the jingle bells and all the people and hot chocolate in just a wonderful atmosphere, but no.

Nic was holding out for Santa, so because Bob’s sleigh was pretty small, not much room for Santa alone let alone one other person, I put Nic on, leaving him in the care of Bob (who was an experienced teamster and who had much experience with children and keeping them safe in camps and all) and the mules, or I should say, Santa and the mules.

During the 20 minute sleigh ride, which toured all around the Lakedell Fairgrounds, “Santa” asked Nic all about his pets; how his little pug was doing; how was the hedgehog all about things that Nic liked to do; how are the Vancouver Canucks playing this year and on and on and on.

When Nic got off from his sleigh ride with Santa he came up to me and whispered in an excited little three-year-old voice, “Mom, he (Santa) knew all about me. He knew everything about all my pets. He knew what happened recently with my pug. Mom, that’s the real Santa!!!!”

I never did tell Nic anything different and as far as I know even today, he is quite sure that he was one of the only children to ever have a solo sleigh ride with Santa.