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Old 03-20-2018, 12:03 AM
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Default Old Pictures and Old Stories.

I couldn't find the other thread of old photos posted. My dad had quiet a different childhood. My grandfather, Ray Simcoe, was a bush pilot and knew many old time famous hunters, even the odd royals dawned his wings. I still have prince Phillips bamboo flyrod given to grandpa during a back country fly in. My grandpa was best friends with Jack O'Connor and John Jobson. I have many personal letters and the photos of them together. My dad used to say when I was a kid, and didn't know better, how his firat god father was jack then after Jack passed his second god father was john. These photos are of John and grandpa.A great bear, hunting gear and a personal or grandpa and and John. Hope you enjoy. FYI, lonewolf I may or may not have told you. The 270 you bought from me was jacks then John's. Happy hunting. I still have the dutch oven John had and his tent. My brother and sister still have alot of there other hunting gear that we still use every year.
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Old 03-20-2018, 08:21 AM
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A very cool story, please post more pics.
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Old 03-20-2018, 11:05 AM
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very cool, thanks for sharing
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Old 03-20-2018, 01:23 PM
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That is awesome. Thanks for sharing with us!
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Old 03-21-2018, 08:49 AM
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Here's a few more oldies of John and grandpa.
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Old 03-22-2018, 05:52 PM
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ok gotta ask , who is the blonde ?
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Old 03-22-2018, 10:49 PM
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Is that Jayne Mansfield?
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Old 03-23-2018, 07:33 AM
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Is that Jayne Mansfield?
That's the one. He also had a picture of him and John Wayne. As a kid I remember seeing on the mantle to Grandpa's living room. I haven't seen it for years though. Grandma must have misplaced it somewhere in the numerous moves. When my dad was a boy he used to visit Jack very often. I remember him telling stories of his huge room filled with mounts. Dad said he had a full mount of a bear that was mounted on a trolley with wheels. He used to push is up and down the isles and try to scare my grandma with it. He also had a hawk that him a jack rescued as a chick. Dad named it ketchup and it was housed in a airport hanger on jacks property. It was named ketchup because when my grandma used to visit the hanger in her sandals the hawk would eye her red painted toe nails and swoop down from the rafters and peck at her toes.
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Old 03-24-2018, 12:49 PM
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Ramonmark

Really enjoyed this thread. Keep the stories coming if you think of anymore your Grandpa lived an amazing life. It would be cool if he had a Journal I would love to read about his adventures.
Very cool thanks for sharing!
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Old 03-24-2018, 01:07 PM
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Very cool pics got to love those old Bush pilots and guides

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Old 03-24-2018, 02:35 PM
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That is a neat story.
You should docume t as many as you can. Even wrote a short story account.
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Old 03-24-2018, 03:16 PM
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A great part of history, could be a book in the works!

Thanks for sharing your Dad's mementos and stories here on AO

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Old 03-25-2018, 07:39 AM
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Ramonmark

Really enjoyed this thread. Keep the stories coming if you think of anymore your Grandpa lived an amazing life. It would be cool if he had a Journal I would love to read about his adventures.
Very cool thanks for sharing!
Yeah Grandpa witnessed a lot in his day. He was a police officer, bush pilot and even a test pilot for many airplanes. For a few years he was stationed in Watson lake where he flew a water bomber (the first model he was the test pilot for). Dad said that one sunny summer day him and gramma were walking down town and he could hear and see numerous water bomber flying over head returning or going to somewhere. It may have even been a practice run of some sort. Dad was just a kid at the time and he said he was thinking to himself "I wonder if one of those planes is dad?" No sooner than thinking that one of the planes broke formation and made for a lateral direction to dad's position on the sidewalk. It was too high up for dad to make out the numbers on the plane so dad was still unsure if it was his father. He continued on his way holding gramma's hand. A couple minutes later as dad and gramma were crossing the street he started to feel rain drops. Before they could run across the street for cover they were in a large mist of unforeseen rain. Them and numerous other people on the street got drenched! I guess grandpa used to joke with gramma and say that he'd get her one day. So she used to carry a umbrella as a joking precaution. The worst part about her decision was that it was bright pink and easy for anyone to spot from high up in the air. I guess grandpa was up so high that his load of water was turned to mist by the time it made it to land.
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Old 03-25-2018, 08:57 PM
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Those are fascinating pictures and stories ! I love them. I wonder if they visited Jack O'Connor's house when he was still in Arizona? O'Connor wrote of having a big trophy room in that state and when he moved he lost a bundle.

I was told that I would be disappointed when I went down to Lewiston, Idaho to visit him back in the early '70s.

As a surprise, my wife had set up a visit with him as a gift to me. We drove down in very early September if I remember correctly. He had a big white colonial house over looking the Snake river. I remember driving across the bridge to say that I had been in Washington.

Although O'Connor said that he would be home, he wasn't. He had just got back from a stone hunt in B.C. and promptly left for Africa. I talked to a kid mowing his lawn and he got a hold of a very nice lady who used to be his secretary when he worked for Out Door Life.

She took pity on a couple of disappointed young Canadians and took us on a tour of the house.

What I remember:

There were no mounted animals in the living room. There was a bronze of a big horn. It cost $750 which O'Connor thought was too much so the artist gave it to him.

Going upstairs was a tiger rug on the wall and in his study he had a bunch of heads including addax and scimitar oryx that he shot in the Sahara in about 1955. Maybe with Elgin Gates..

We went out to the back and he had taken out a wall on the garage and lengthened the room. That is where he had his great sheep heads, a fabulous mule deer buck, a head mount of an African lion (I thought it did not do that cat justice), and other heads. The walls were done in pine.

Most of his guns were stored elsewhere for security reasons. I think that I saw a Ruger #1 and an Ithaca pump shotgun. Maybe one other?

I do not remember ever seeing any full mounts of anything. Maybe the bear was back in Arizona? I do not know.

I am glad that I saw the house and heads. He certainly was my hunting hero back when I was a yonker.

I also used to read John Jobson's articles. Sports Afield. A very cool guy.

At least ten years ago or more I saw some of Colonel Charles Askins' rifles for sale by his kin. I am left handed like him so I thought that I would love to own one. I was willing to pay an outrageous $2,000 for a regular one. About the cheapest one for sale was a plain Jane Remington 700. The price was $18,000 U.S.
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Old 03-26-2018, 08:28 AM
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When my brother and I used to visit grandpa as youngsters we used to fight over who got to use his personal washroom. I know that sounds insane. He had so many cool things in there. I still remember the smell of shaving balm and looking at all his straight razors in awe. He had a leather strop hanging from the wall and a shelf with an old school tube record player on it. He also had two elephant feet (John had the other two) that were hollowed out and they had magazines in them. (as an adult now, I almost shake my head but I have to remember that these men were from a different breed). More importantly in amongst the numerous hunting mags was always hidden a smut mag. My brother and I used to spend a lot of time flipping through those mags while sitting on grandpa throne. I didn’t find out until after grandpa passed away that he used to put a smut mag in the elephant feet only when his grandsons were coming to visit.

My brother has a huge timber wolf rug that was at my grandpas. As kids my older sister and I used to drape it over us and hide in the dark basement. Then we’d call my younger brother down so see the cool things we found. We’d here him scamper across the room above us and make his decent down the basement stairs. I can still remember him stopping at the bottom of the stairs where the lights were turned off and say “Guys, where are you?” We’d reply with some other taunting remarks like “look at all the cool things grandpa has!” My brother would come running into the dark where my sister and I would lay in wait under the huge timer wolf. We’d chase him into rooms and eventually upstairs. It was all fun and game until grandma got out her wooden spoon and tuned us in for scaring the baby. Every once and a while my brother and I are having beers in his basement he’ll eye that rug and mention how we should call his boys downstairs and scare the bajesus out of them. We’ll laugh about it until I mention how ****ed his wife will be. And she has lots of mixing spoons to tune us in too!

From, what I remember about that wolf. When we were kids I can remember watching an old film of my grandpas. I still have his old slide with tons of slides and film projector with a bunch of rolls. It was a black and white film with no sound. Some of the shots were looking out a plane window at what looked like hundreds of wolfs running in the snow. I still remember one of the shots, it still gives me nightmares. It was a video of a huge fire on a frozen lake in the mountains. As the camera got closer you could make out bodies of dead wolves on fire. There must have been close to a hundred! The pile was taller than a man and wider than a truck. Grandpa used to get teary eyed when he talked about that night. I guess the Yukon had so many wolves at one time that they licensed him and a few other men to kill the wolves. As the story goes many people were on the hunt for this large pack but he had video footage of them and knew there routes. Some of the wolves were shot and a many of them were poisoned. There was this government official that told grandpa that they were to poison the wolves and no one was to keep the hides. This fella was the man in charge and ‘supervised the cull’ Grandpa argued with him and lost. The bait and poison was laid and left behind for the wolves to find. When the group came back numerous days later they got busy scouting and collecting bodies and making a large pile. There were a few wolves that were scouting the area and those ones were shot. Grandpa said that he spotted a huge heap of fur lying in the snow and made his way for it. He was carrying an axe as many of the bodies were either frozen or half burring under crusty ice. As he approached the animal from behind it rolled to its side and made an agonizing growl. Grandpa raised his axe to dispatch the animal and as the axe made its way down towards the animal’s skull the wolf snatched at the blade of the axe and stopped it dead in its tracks. Grandpa said he still remembered looking into that wolves eyes and seeing pain. He always got very emotional telling that story. As it turns out grandpa punched out that government official and skinned that wolf and brought it home for himself.
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Old 03-26-2018, 08:53 AM
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Originally Posted by scruffy View Post
Those are fascinating pictures and stories ! I love them. I wonder if they visited Jack O'Connor's house when he was still in Arizona? O'Connor wrote of having a big trophy room in that state and when he moved he lost a bundle.

I was told that I would be disappointed when I went down to Lewiston, Idaho to visit him back in the early '70s.

As a surprise, my wife had set up a visit with him as a gift to me. We drove down in very early September if I remember correctly. He had a big white colonial house over looking the Snake river. I remember driving across the bridge to say that I had been in Washington.

Although O'Connor said that he would be home, he wasn't. He had just got back from a stone hunt in B.C. and promptly left for Africa. I talked to a kid mowing his lawn and he got a hold of a very nice lady who used to be his secretary when he worked for Out Door Life.

She took pity on a couple of disappointed young Canadians and took us on a tour of the house.

What I remember:

There were no mounted animals in the living room. There was a bronze of a big horn. It cost $750 which O'Connor thought was too much so the artist gave it to him.

Going upstairs was a tiger rug on the wall and in his study he had a bunch of heads including addax and scimitar oryx that he shot in the Sahara in about 1955. Maybe with Elgin Gates..

We went out to the back and he had taken out a wall on the garage and lengthened the room. That is where he had his great sheep heads, a fabulous mule deer buck, a head mount of an African lion (I thought it did not do that cat justice), and other heads. The walls were done in pine.

Most of his guns were stored elsewhere for security reasons. I think that I saw a Ruger #1 and an Ithaca pump shotgun. Maybe one other?

I do not remember ever seeing any full mounts of anything. Maybe the bear was back in Arizona? I do not know.

I am glad that I saw the house and heads. He certainly was my hunting hero back when I was a yonker.

I also used to read John Jobson's articles. Sports Afield. A very cool guy.

At least ten years ago or more I saw some of Colonel Charles Askins' rifles for sale by his kin. I am left handed like him so I thought that I would love to own one. I was willing to pay an outrageous $2,000 for a regular one. About the cheapest one for sale was a plain Jane Remington 700. The price was $18,000 U.S.
That's a super cool experience! Thanks for sharing. Unfortunately I'm just a young fellar myself and many of these stories are the ones that my brother, sister and I all remember. My grand father passed away in 1997 and my dad in 2005. SO I can't ask for more details anymore. What I wouldn't take to go back and record these memories. Many of them are ones we heard over and over from dad, and some are close memories that we shared with grandpa himself. I've always been pretty reluctant in telling them. When I was a child I used to tell these grand tales to my friends and many of them used to say I was a fibber or a liar. Even there parents got on bored. It really stung, these were stories of my dad and grandpa's life! I guess its hard to image a lot of this stuff happening if all you've ever seen is a city and spend most of your time in front of the TV. I don't mind sharing these memories with the likes of outdoors men (and women) as they would appreciate the history or story itself. I'm sure some of the details were embellished from my dad about his father. But, what I do know is the people and the situations did happen.
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Old 03-26-2018, 10:03 AM
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best thread going! please don't stop........
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Old 03-26-2018, 11:24 AM
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Originally Posted by ramonmark View Post
Yeah Grandpa witnessed a lot in his day. He was a police officer, bush pilot and even a test pilot for many airplanes. For a few years he was stationed in Watson lake where he flew a water bomber (the first model he was the test pilot for). Dad said that one sunny summer day him and gramma were walking down town and he could hear and see numerous water bomber flying over head returning or going to somewhere. It may have even been a practice run of some sort. Dad was just a kid at the time and he said he was thinking to himself "I wonder if one of those planes is dad?" No sooner than thinking that one of the planes broke formation and made for a lateral direction to dad's position on the sidewalk. It was too high up for dad to make out the numbers on the plane so dad was still unsure if it was his father. He continued on his way holding gramma's hand. A couple minutes later as dad and gramma were crossing the street he started to feel rain drops. Before they could run across the street for cover they were in a large mist of unforeseen rain. Them and numerous other people on the street got drenched! I guess grandpa used to joke with gramma and say that he'd get her one day. So she used to carry a umbrella as a joking precaution. The worst part about her decision was that it was bright pink and easy for anyone to spot from high up in the air. I guess grandpa was up so high that his load of water was turned to mist by the time it made it to land.
Love it!
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Old 03-26-2018, 09:02 PM
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fantastic post
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Old 03-26-2018, 09:26 PM
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Great stories.
Thank you for sharing and I hope you can share some more with us.
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Old 03-29-2018, 01:05 AM
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The story of the twin blondes.

Growing up my first hunting rifle was a semi-custom blonde in a 7mm Rem Mag. I believe it was a browning and it had a Beautiful blonde stock, it was called Birdseye walnut I believe? I’m not a wood guy, I’m probably wrong on that part. Anyways, dad and grandpa called it the Blonde. Dad would haller “did you clean that blonde, or, “have you practiced with your blonde lately?” Sometimes my friends would be present and when hearing this they’d give me a weird look which required explanation. To make things more confusing, my brother had one that was almost identical but it was chambered in a 280 express. His was also called the blonde. Quiet the imagination on the Oldman’s part.

A long time ago, before my father was even a thought in my grandfather's Mind, my grandfather was tasked to take a few ‘professional’ hunters on a hunt. These fellas had loads of cash and very expensive gear and they were after Dall sheep. Many people, both famous and regular joes used grandpas experience as he had hauled out quite a few trophies over the years. There was one guy, whom will remain nameless, was an up and coming famous American hunter and he had a huge chip on his shoulder. Whereas, the other fellas were a real pleasure to be around. I can’t remember if there were 3 or 4 guys. But as the story went 2 or 3 of these hunters got there prize over the course of their hunts and the only one left to get his sheep was the fella with a chip on his shoulder. The night before the last couple days of the hunt, this fella asked my grandpa to take him out as he was getting very frustrated with his luck.

The next morning grandpa left the other fellas and camp and the two of them flew to a little secluded lake he knew of.. Grandpa told this guy that he had only taken a handful of hunters into this area and each one of them left with a trophy. This guy seamed to cheer up a little on the inside but was still his pleasant self on the outside.

The two of them climbed up to a spot grandpa nick named ‘trophy ridge’ to glass for the sheep. Near the end of the day they spotted a brute of a sheep on the same hill they were on, but he was quite a bit higher than they were currently positioned. They decided to wait as the sheep appeared to be making his way down towards them. He would disappear behind rocks or bushes and appear a few minutes later but always at a closer distance. About 45mins later this sheep appeared broadside. And he was almost straight up. This fella asked grandpa what he though and he told him. “I’m guessing he’s around 400 yards away and it’ll be one hell of a shot, you’d be better off not to try as you’ll probably miss or worse yet wound it.” This guy was not impressed. He must have been used to people kissing his arse. He swore at grandpa and told him the sheep was maybe 200 yards away. Anyways, as this guy aims straight up and is getting ready to shoot grandpa mentions to him that he should be careful, his scope is awfully close to his brow and he might get a nasty bite. The guys said some more profanity and basically told grandpa to watch and see him take this sheep. He pulls the trigger and…. Miss. It was way under and hit a crap load of rocks on the ridge above them. The sheep disappears. Grandpa looks back at his companion and sees he’s holding his eye and a large amount of blood is pouring between the fingers clutched to his face. Grandpa just started to laugh, he couldn’t help it. This guy was giving grief to all the other hunters and he was just a pain in the neck to be around. Now this justice was served. Grandpa said he looked like Yosemite Sam jumping up and down on his hat after being fooled by the rabbit! This fella notices grandpa is laughing at him and before he can say anything a small rock about the size of a golf ball goes, PLOP, right in the middle of his head. This guy just stands there staring and very confused. Grandpa can’t take it anymore. He literally fell to the ground holding his stomach and starts to cry in a fit of tears.

After this whole fiasco is over they make their way back to the lake to depart. Grandpa helps bandage up this guy’s brow and head, then they start to load up there gear into the plane. This guy is still fuming. He hasn’t said one word to grandpa on the way down the mountain, not even when he was getting treated for his wounds. After all the gear was loaded up and they were preparing to push the plane off, grandpa noticed this hunter’s rifle leaning against a tree. He tells this guy, who is sitting in his seat pouting, his rifle is still one shore. This must have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. He jumps from his seat, trudges through the water and approached his rifle. He picks it up from the barrel and takes a swing at the tree and.. snap. He breaks the stock in half. Then he tosses the rifle and stock in the drink.

When grandpa and the other guys were preparing to leave one of the other successful hunters awarded my grandpa with a beautiful blonde rifle. My 7RM Blonde. My grandpa learns from over hearing the others talk, that the matching rifle was owned by the butt hurt fella, and it was supposedly dropped and lost down a cliff. Grandpa bit his lip and laughed to himself.

A few days later grandpa returned to that lake and after a lot of effort he fished that rifle out of the water. He sent that rifle to Grundmans gunsmithing in the states (I may have spelt that wrong, I still have the letters they sent back and forth somewhere) and had another beautiful blonde stock made for it. That rifle, the 280 Express Blonde, was given to my father to give to my younger brother when he was born. My brother caused my mom a lot of agony and pain during the labor, which turned into a c-section. He said he found it fitting to give a pain in the arse rifle to a pain in the arse baby.
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Old 03-29-2018, 06:03 AM
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Thread of the century, thank you for sharing with us, just amazing.
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Old 04-01-2018, 09:25 PM
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The Story of the Wall tent and the weird fish.

This story if pretty vague as every time I was told it, it was usually over a campfire and it was intended to scare the crap out of me. I apologize in advance with being long winded. Without adding as much detail to this little story it would be very short and miss some freaky details.

As the story goes, told to me by dad with grandpa parroting in the back. Grandpa was in the northern parks of the Yukon at a remote lake. This area was new to him as the people he flew in had a map, a map they were very protective of. He was tasked to take three geologists up north for some ‘rock picking’. Grandpa words, not mine. He had flown with geologist before and he enjoyed his previous experiences. These geologists brought a brand spanking new wall tent with them. That was the radar that went off in his head. The majority of the geologists he flew with usually had well used gear. Unfortunately they neglected to buy a frame or tent pegs. That was radar number 2. Grandpa ended up making a tent frame with logs from young trees and the pegs were made with spikes widdled down from tree branches.
The foursome spent 3-4 days in this area, the geologist doing their work while grandpa spent the majority of his days reading a book or fishing off the pontoon of his plane. The majority of his trips he’d drop off people who were self-sustainable in the wild. These fellas were not. They paid to have him stay at location. Everyday they’d come back from there testing either covered in tree sap or nasty bug bites. That was radar number 3. The only saving grace was that they were taking soil and rock samples, from god knows where though. Grandpa said they seemed like government men, not geologists. They rarely spoke of the formations of the earth, the fauna of the forest and all that jazz. The day of the trip was spent in beautiful weather which resulted in grandpa nursing sunburn, nothing out of the ordinary, so far. The foursome would eat fish that grandpa caught over the fire at night and not much else. These were the days when you talked to each other instead of checking your phone or updating your status. These men were tight lipped. They rarely spoke. And when they did they usually walked off a few paces and spoke to each other in whispers. That was what originally made grandpa skin crawl.

On the last day grandpa was doing his usual fishing from his plane but this time one of the geologist happen to be in camp, just a stones though away, going through some of his findings. Grandpa snagged this massive trout. It felt so large that he actually started to get excited and did the appropiate hoots and hollers in appreciation to his luck. When he managed to get the fish up from below and closer to the surface, he went silent. This did not look like a normal trout. And it actually wasn’t that big. Not as big as he would have thought by the fight in it. It looked like a decent 20-24” trout, although it was bone white! When he managed to get it to the surface and in his net he studied it very closely and silently. He began to second guess toughing it to get the hook out of it mouth. Besides being bone white its belly appeared to be a bright blue, but as the fish thrashed in the net its belly would change to a greenish then a yellowish colour in the sun light. On top of that, this white trout shaped fish had no eyes! Not one. It had dimples where they eyes should have been but other than that no eyes! He’d never seen anything like that before.

Unbeknownst to grandpa his fella geologist must have been curious in my grandpa behavior because when he looked up this geologist was already stepping from shore to his pontoon. The man walked up very slowly to grandpa and asked to see his catch. Grandpa was in shock from the fish but was happy to have a witness. His buddies would NEVER believe this fish story! The fella stared at it from where he was standing for a few seconds then took a step closer. Without hesitation he reached into the net removed the hook from the fish’s mouth, scooped up the fish and left back towards the camp cradling the fish. Grandpa was in shock. Normally he’d give someone a smack for taking his fish, but he was kind of relieved since he didn’t even want to touch it. Then there was this yuppie who grabbed the fish without hesitation. He was shocked, embarrassed and just plain puzzled.
Later that night when the other 2 men returned from there scavenging the man left behind at the camp met them just outside of the light coming from the lantern. Grandpa wasn’t sure what they were talking about but he was certain that they were talking about the fish. The tight lipped men were very excited about something. They were talking very quickly and with emotion. At this point grandpa was 100% certain these men were not geologist and he was alone with them. He’d been a police officer before he was a bush pilot and he knew these kinds of men. They were definitely what he called government men. At that point he just wanted to go to sleep and get out of this place with these men.

That night he was actually concerned that they might kill him and he’d never leave. I know, typical old coot. He was afraid that he might be mixed up in some weird thing and he was a witness. He didn’t sleep one wink. He lay awake with his eyes open but his ears were trained for any noise, the noise of a sleeping bag being unzipped or footsteps in the dark. It was so dark in that tent he couldn’t even see his own hands in front of his face. At some point during the night he noticed that he could see inside the tent. Vaguely, but he could see. He could make out the walls and even his companions sleeping in there cots. He was starting to think that maybe it was getting close to morning when he noticed that that there was a light coming from outside the tent. The light was getting closer and closer. It eventually appeared to be right over the tent. It was so bright inside the tent he had to shield his eyes. It then occurred to him the there was no noise. His mind was racing. He jumped out of his cot and grabbed him rifle to go investigate. Damned if he was going to die lying on his back. He was certain that something fishy was going on but he didn’t know what it was. Before he could make his way to the door of the tent to investigate the source of the light one of his companions spoke from his cot. He said “stay here”. Grandpa almost jumped out of his socks. This guy wasn’t sleeping, in fact none of them where. Without a word the three men got out of there cots, got dressed and left the tent. Grandpa was schitting a brick at this point. They just left, walked out of the tent with zero concern. They weren’t even armed, from what he could tell anyways. He hadn’t seen any rifles with them but at this point he was starting to feel they must have had concealed side arms. About 10 minutes later the light drifted away in the same direction that it originally came from. Grandpa sat in the tent once again in the dark. He listened for footsteps or voices but there was nothing. Another 10 minutes went by and grandpa thought, screws this. He fumbled for his zippo and lit it. He found the lantern and got it going. A few minutes later he heard his name, and he recognized the man’s voice. It was the man who took his fish. He said “Ray, don’t shoot. Were all tired and want to go to bed. Don’t shoot us when we come into the tent” Before grandpa could respond the tent opened the three men came back into the tent. The smiled politely at him and then undressed and went back to their cots. Not a word was said about the light, the fish, nothing!

The next morning the three men got up early and made breakfast which they never did before. The four of them ate breakfast in silence. They packed up camp and headed back to port. When they landed there were two black cars waiting for them. The three men gathered up their belongings and left. Not a thank you, not a keep quiet or else, nothing. Grandpa being grandpa told his close friends the story and they all had theories.

To me as a child this story used to scare the crap out of me. Now I think more a government conspiracy. Or maybe it was just a story told so many times that the real juicy parts got juicier. Grandpa wasn’t one to talk a lot but when he did you listened. And when he did talk it was usually because you were in trouble or he was serous and wanted to teach you something. When he told this story he was dead serious. Even with that said it’s an old story grandpa used to tell to scare us. Who knows if the lights or the fish really happened. Although, I’m 100% certain these men did exist and I’m sure from grandpa’s previous experience he was right in guessing that they were NOT geologists.
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Old 04-02-2018, 09:01 AM
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Awesome story Ramon. It reads like many of the stories older folks told us kids when we were young. It reads like so many magazine short stories of the 1940's to the 60's, back when people had imaginations and adventures, there was always a mystery and a story to be told and heard.
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Old 04-02-2018, 11:45 AM
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Thanks for sharing. The old stories are great but the pictures just add that much more. Seems there was a real lack of camera's in my families history.
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Old 04-02-2018, 12:09 PM
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When I find some time I'll get out his old film reels and try to record a couple videos for you guys. Its been years since ive watched any but some were pretty interesting. Even the slides had some good trophies and the odd old time famous person in amongst them.
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Old 04-02-2018, 11:56 PM
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Great writing and great reflections of your Grandpa's adventures.
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Old 04-03-2018, 07:50 AM
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Very cool stories. Thanks again for taking the time to write them up.
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Old 04-03-2018, 05:33 PM
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The day the bear cubs ate all the lunch

Grandpa was in the northern Yukon on a remote lake doing some fishing and scouting. He was there for a couple days and set up camp close to where his plane was moored in the water. One of the days he needed to clean up so he decided to take a dip in the lake. The water was ice cold but he figured that he would only be in the water for a couple mins. He took his clothes off and laid them on the front seat of the plane then jumped in the water. He went for a quick swim away from the plane and when he was on his way back he noticed a couple bears emerge from the bushes. He was going to make a break for the plane so he could get out of the cold water, grab his rifle and hopefully scare them away. As he got closer he realized that the bears coming from the bushes were grizzly cubs! His first thought was, “where’s moma bear?” Oh wait there she is! She was on the pontoon of his plane investigating the weird contraption she just found. That ruined grandpas plans. He knew the lake very well and any area close to him was surrounded by steep rock banks so he couldn’t swim down shore and get to land that way. He decided to tread water quietly at a distance from the plane as to not spook the bears. He watched these little bear cubs root around in his camp causing all kinds of havoc. After eating all the fish and lunches in his cooler they decided to check out the tent. Thirty minutes of this crap went bye and he was staring to shiver. He was worried that he might be getting hypothermia if he waited any longer. He made a decision to try to get to the plane from the opposite side that momma bear was on. Then he could get into the plane and hopefully fire it up. That way the noise would scare the bears away.

He quietly made his way for the plane and when he was about 20 yards from it he took a big breathe and dove under the water. He was hoping to emerge from the water at the opposite pontoon and quietly get onto it without momma bear noticing. What he didn’t take into account was that momma bear was getting frustrated with her investigation. In her curiosity she fell off the plane in between the pontoons. As grandpa approached the plane from under water he saw a huge splash, then four legs kicking in the water. Crap that screwed his plan, again. What was he to do? Turn around and use his reaming oxygen to get him to a safe distance from the ****ed off momma bear. Or, wait it out under water and hope she decided to vacate the water and leave the plane for him to board. Grandpa could no longer feel his arms or legs so he decided for the last plan. That did not work out too well for grandpa. In the bears frustration she decided to try to get back on to the pontoon. Every attempt she made ended up making the plane move and rock in the water, this was fruitless. The water was only around 4 feet deep but she couldn’t get her stability as the plane rocked back and forth. Grandpa got to the point where he thought screw it. With his last remaining oxygen he jumped out of the water and yelled ROAR!!!!! At his point the bear was not 5 feet from grandpa and she was hanging onto his pontoon looking dumbfounded right in grandpa’s direction. To his delight the bear made a loud yelp and immediately made for shore. In grandpas excitement he forgot about his plan to board the plane and ended up taking chase. As he took pursuit he frantically yelled and screamed all kinds of profanities to his chase. He chased her to the bushes and when she disappeared he imminently stopped and yelled some more in a fit of triumph. His blood was pumping savagely and he felt very satisfied with his results. He chased a full grown grizzly away! All while he was buck naked too! He walked back to camp proud of himself.

As he approached camp he shook his head in anger at the disarray of his gear. He was about to enter his tent in search of warm blanket as he thought to himself, where the hell are those cubs? The last time he saw them they were on eyeing his tent. He decided to tip toe past the tent and make for his plane. He’d start the plane’s engines to make some noise and then get into warm clothes. No sooner than sneaking past the tent he heard a little bark like a ‘rufff’ directly behind him. He looked over his shoulder and witnessed a little bear cub half out of his tent. The cubs head cocked sideways looking directly at grandpa's ares in confusion. Grandpa thought to himself, I just chased away a full grown bear why not a cub!!? He turned around and yelled ROAR!!! This time the results were not in grandpa’s favor. The cub imminently stood up on its hind legs and roared back. To his surprise that little bugger wasn’t that little anymore. He was nearly his own height! The bear must have seen the surprise in grandpa’s eyes because it hunched back down on all fours and took chase! Grandpa turned and ran directly for his plane. As he approached the plane he quickly climbed up to the door and started to fiddle with the handle. All the while he was thinking “what the hell is going on!?” “I took chase after a full grown grizzly to only be put back to a dead run from a cub!” He managed to get into the plane and shut the door. He looked out the window and saw two bear cubs disappear into the bushes. He just laughed and thought to himself, I was just mock charged from a damn bear cub!

Here's a few titles of the others I intend to write about. I just need to talk with my family to get some more details on them:

-German luger from war and 25 auto with swastika not sure of origin.

-Messing with the bear spray while driving

-Butter container under the driver’s seat for tail gaters

-Shooting armed criminal in the bush

-Hauling frozen trapper out in front seat of plane and the royal ring
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Last edited by ramonmark; 04-03-2018 at 05:42 PM.
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  #30  
Old 04-07-2018, 12:11 AM
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Hahahaa!
I love it, the Cub! Very much looking forward to the future installments when ready. Thanks aplenty, great thread indeed.
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