The Word - Vol 70

A Gig is a Gig
I’m sure we have all had odd jobs in our lifetime. Jobs that we didn’t end up pursuing as a lifelong career for one reason or another. I suppose it’s a good thing to sample different worlds of employment, not only to find out what you like, but also to find out what you don’t like, and don’t want to spend time doing for the rest of your life!

My motivation to sample some jobs as a teenager was to just get enough money in my jeans to afford a dollar’s worth of gas to get me through the weekend in the family car!  My parents were generous enough to let me use their Chevy II two-door coupe as long as I put gas in it! At 16 years of age, pumping gas at Virtue’s Esso Station in Kerrisdale was one of my first paycheques. My friend James Dodds and I were both “Front End Mechanics.” Yes, front-end mechanic was a fancy name for a kid who ran out and pumped your gas, checked the oil, checked your tires, and cleaned your windshield. It’s called “Full Service” nowadays if you can find it. Back then, it was what you expected when you pulled into a gas station. It didn’t matter if it was a dollar’s worth or a full tank, you got the full-service treatment. It was fun for a while, but both James and I knew it wasn’t our calling in life. As Murray Westgate used to say on the Hockey Night in Canada Esso commercials, “Happy Motoring!”

Soon after that, much to my parent’s dismay, I decided to take an extended vacation from high school, and that meant finding a job.  My first stop was Budget Rent-a-Car where I landed a job as a “car jockey” which is just a fancy name for the guy who washes and parks the rental cars. That was okay for a while, but not really my calling. Next up, making Presto-Logs at a mill down on the Fraser River. Not a good fit either. After a few shifts, I was home by lunchtime. Then a school friend of mine told me of a job he was offered that he didn’t want, a prospector for a mining company! It could be mine, but the catch was I had to relocate to a mountain top overlooking Stewart, British Columbia which borders on Alaska. I’ll take it, sign me up! A gig is a gig!

After a flight to Prince Rupert, then Sandspit, and a water belly landing on the Portland Canal at Stewart, I soon found myself on top of a mountain, in a tent in a foot of Springtime snow. It was quite an experience for a 17-year-old city kid. An experience that included catching an axe with my ankle, spending time in an experimental hospital, getting Hyderized in Hyder Alaska, and flying in a helicopter piloted by a Vietnam vet who thought he was still in the war.  But those stories will be for another time. 

I was teamed up with a University student who had done this prospecting thing before, and a surveyor who didn’t stay with us very long. The end result was we didn’t find enough silver deposits for the mining company to feel it was feasible to start a mining operation. I thought that was it for us, but no, the company also had mining rights to a property just outside Princeton B.C.  Now, that was a little closer to home and civilization, let’s go! So the college guy and I reported to Princeton where we were given a company pickup truck and directed to an old trapper’s log cabin in the woods as our accommodation. I know what you’re thinking, how charming, a quaint log cabin in the forest, rocking chair on the porch, fire slowly burning in the fireplace.

Ah, no, not quite! It was a rundown rotten old log cabin with a sod roof that had mushrooms growing from the ceiling inside the cabin. Mattresses on the bunk bed were made of canvas bags stuffed with straw that needed to be swept of rodent droppings before putting your sleeping bag down. We looked at each other and said…”Uh, No!” Back to Princeton, we went and my partner got on the phone to the mining company and arranged for motel rooms for the two of us. We’d commute to the bush to do our prospecting. 

Life in Princeton was good. The two of us had a nice motel room to call home and met up with a local guy who had a brand-new muscle car. I don’t think we called them muscle cars back then, but it was one of the 60’s beauties. His idea of a good time was to drive to Manning Park Lodge and back, going as fast as the car could travel, then back to the Princeton bus depot for coffee and raisin pie. That was fun, once or twice, but not every night! 

We made the commute to the bush every day, and it went well till we almost met our maker one sunny summer day. The two of us had finished our prospecting duties early and decided to take the afternoon off and do some exploring. We reached a ridge at the border of the mining property and looked down to see some men working in the fields below. We couldn’t figure out what they were doing, they might have been haying? We were both city kids, what did we know? What we didn’t know was there was a person coming up the hill from the ranch land below, she was carrying a shotgun and didn’t look very happy to see us. “What are you guys doing here?” she yelled in a voice that was very much like the old TV character Tugboat Annie! She even looked like Tugboat Annie too, an ample woman with a peasant-type skirt, crumpled cowboy hat, grey work socks, bug bites all over her arms and legs, and she was aiming her shotgun at us! Before we could answer, she informed us that we were on private property and that property was hers, and if we knew what was good for us, we’d go back to where we had come from! I don’t remember us saying a word, just backing up very slowly then turning and running as fast as we ever had in our lives. 

Soon after that brush with death, our work was done and once again we didn’t find enough mineral deposits for the mining company to go ahead with a full-scale mining operation. And again I realized that this was another work venture that wasn’t up my alley. Maybe looking down the barrel of a shotgun was my first clue.

Thinking back on all of that I once again realize how fortunate I’ve been to spend most of my working life doing what I love to do, and also having been able to have a taste of what wouldn’t have been the best choice.

As I’ve always said, “I’ve been with a gig and I’ve been without a gig, being with a gig (especially one you love) is better.”

Till next week…
Wayne

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