My father, Sid, was good at many things. In those early days if you had any kind of motor in a machine there was no such thing as an electric starter. They had a magneto which created a spark only if the motor was turned over with a crank or by spinning the flywheel over. As you can imagine, if the mag was not set just right you could end up with a broken arm.

Dad was a bit of an expert on these things so there were many friends and neighbours whom I suspect enjoyed a cup of apple cider if it was in the right stage between sweet cider and the dark vinegar which we sold for fifty cents a gallon.

As kids we loved the sweet cider and we could take part in the process of grinding and pressing of the pulp. Also it was the place where you learned to stay clear of moving belts and machinery. I guess it was the kind of place where men and boys could get away from the chores and demands of the household. This was always a bit of a point of contention with the household bosses, and since there were no telephones to demand the return of the cellar gang my father always had an ear cocked for the sound of mother's call from the house, or the message relayed by my sister.

I never saw my father inebriated in all the years that I knew him. He seemed to be able to handle even the worst situations with a quiet manner and quick action, whether it be the neighbours team of runaway horses or a wind driven fire. His nature made him extremely good with livestock.

He told us boys of some of the early days when he ran a stagecoach from Hoodsport to Lake Cushman, carrying passengers and mail. He had managed to purchase a matched team of whites for the stage, named Sam and Mons.



He also ran a barge on Lake Keechelus to handle freight from one end of the lake to the stage road. If I remember correctly the lake was part of the trail through the mountains to the coast. I would imagine that he had a small tug boat (with a mag and flywheel driven engine to drive the propeller) He told us that he carried the first motor car to cross the mountains on this barge. The year must have been about 1905. He also told us that he carried a loaded side arm under his seat because of carrying the mail. He said that the worst trip was when he had to build sturdy rails on the barge to load a dozen or so horses which could cause serious problems if they began to panic.



On the orchard we had a second cistern very near to the first one. These had to be filled before the irrigation water was turned off in the fall. In all the years that my dad worked at all the different jobs he was called upon to undertake there was only once that I can think of that he was laid up, and that was when a ladder broke during the construction of this second cistern. He jumped from the ladder and broke his heel bones.

My father had a power spray machine and with it he did custom spraying from Naramata to Kaledan, traveling some thirty miles with the team and sprayer, and maybe having to ride the horses home at night and back in the morning.

I am finding that it is impossible to get incidents and happenings that made up one's life so many long years ago, and even more difficult to put it all down so it makes some sense. There are events that seem to divide the years according to your age and the sometimes painful happenings, so with that thought in mind I will try to write more chronologically.