ARCTIC AIR MAIL

Evening Post, Volume CXXIV, Issue 88, 11 October 1937, Page 10

ARCTIC AIR MAIL

THE PILOT'S LIFE

READY FOR ANYTHING

(From "The Post's" Representative.) VANCOUVER, September 15. The pilot of the Arctic air mail is a general purposes handy man to the community which he serVes. At intervals between delivering and loading mail at two score of trading posts or mining camps, he may be called on suddenly for an errand of mercy, to fly a surgeon to an injured man, or to pick up geologists from a lonely lake, bringing them back with their canoe lashed to his pontoon struts. It is all in the day's work. There are no beacons on the northern route, nor directional wireless. The maps—only portion of the area has been delineated—are made from aerial photographs. There is no ground staff, with spare parts or supplies. The pilot, with the aid of the mechanic, must effect repairs as he goes. But year by year the service expands, aeroplanes landing in summer on pontoons, in winter on skis.

The arrival of the mail sees the population for many miles around gathered to welcome it. The whites retire with their precious letters to missions —Anglican and Catholic—to police barracks, and. Hudson's Bay post, leaving only the Eskimos visible. They are dressed in caribou or moose-skin parkas (long-tailed coats, not unlike evening dress), with hoods bordered with wolverine fur, this being *he only pelt that will not stiffen into a fringe of tinkling ice. They wear mukluks, knee boots of sealskin. Their small summer houses are of canvas or caribou skin. There are no Indians north of the timber line, which is about at the Arctic Circle. The sun sideslips to the horizon, but does not set, and commences to ascend again. Pilot and mechanic curl up in their sleeping bags in the attic over the Post, and sleep soundly, in spite of a nocturnal oratorio by five long lines of dogs tethered nearby, Protestant dogs, Catholic dogs, Post dogs, trappers' dogs, traders' dogs, Eskimo dogs, Police dogs, in a fullthroated motif. The wild salute of the Arctic goes on, hour by hour, while Coronation Gulf sleeps under the midnight sun, and white foxes patrol the curving shore in search of a stranded whale. In the Great Bear Lake sector, where activity is going on, mining for gold, silver, and the pitchblende ores that produce radium, there is plenty of timber for building, mining, and fuel. Giant trout, up to 701b, are caught. The meat of the country is caribou, killed in winter. For storage a log hut is erected, floored with ice and snow; on this is placed a layer of carcasses, then another of ice, and bo on, till one has a gigantic multiple sandwich of meat and ice that lasts till the great herds again begin their winter trek. Caribou flesh is dark and tender, not unlike venison. From "Bear," the mail aeroplanes pass over Bloody Falls, where, long years ago, Yellow Knives and Dcrgribs ended their racial feud with the Eskimos by betrayal and massacre, in a single night. Salt water comes in sight, the bays are clear, the sea ice has moved out beyond the islands. Far to the north-east is Lady Franklin Point, on Victoria Island. The aeroplane lands amid a swirl of foam, and pilot and passengers go ashore, amid clouds of mosquitoes, to be welcomed by Eskimos, eternally smiling.