NWT – G Division – Postings

So where to go and what to do after returning from a year away from Policing having enjoyed an amazing backpackers adventure to Europe, England, and North Africa?

I wandered to the Northwest Territories in 1974 to catch up with my old RCMP troop training buddy and friend Tom and his wife Suzanne at Fort Norman, NWT on this mighty McKenzie River. They had married in Manitoba where I was the best man and godfather to their son so I thought it fitting to see how they were going in the North.

It was a place to contemplate my future and it was to be an experience of the rough and ready life in the northern wilds of the Northwest Territories of Canada. The Northwest Territories is a land that has never been tamed. Larger than all but a handful of sovereign nations, it’s where Canada’s biggest river weaves through an empire of forests and mountains. It’s where herds of caribou roam, where lakes are ocean-sized and fish are human-sized. Where polar bears roar and great whales spout. And where people trace paths, following life ways richer than the modern world can know.

Tulita – (Fort Norman) Tulít’a – “Where the waters meet”

My time in Fort Norman soon became occupied with a short-term role with a local construction and transport firm (McPherson Construction) owned by a local.  I was hired to run administration and logistics for the firm involving business management, bookkeeping, and managing the food and lodgings for his workers.  We also managed general construction, building log buildings and freight handling for the local airport, summer and winter road maintenance, water delivery, and provided transport for goods arriving by river barge.

This turned out to be a worthwhile experience that provided me a wealth of practical and human resource skills but it was very challenging as well.  The owner didn’t mind a drink and would often go missing for days on end – his perception of responsibility and mine often collided.  The exposure to the community did allow me to mix more closely with the locals and to attend many of the indigenous people’s events and ceremonies.  This experience has stayed with me for all these years and it provided me a close insight into their way of life.

Working with Tom from the RCMP, we managed to start a local scouting troop for locals. While living in Fort Norman and being involved with the RCMP detachment my friend Tom and I decided to start a Boy Scout Troop to help out the local children with a police-community relations program to provide positive activity in their lives.

As with many settlements in the north, there was often far too much alcohol and violence that permeated the day-to-day lives of many including the children  Please have a read of this little community-based project we got involved in – Scouting in the North:

Adventures – It’s always helpful to recall events that took place and to remember the experiences shared or gained as a result – here are a few that stick in my mind.

Bombardier trip to the Wells – carbon monoxide poisoning was what they said we had.  It had been a trip from Ft Norman in the Government bombardier.  I can’t remember why the trip was planned but we were loaded into the over-the-snow contraption and headed off through the bush on snow and ice roads that crisscrossed the frozen north. Checking on native hunting camps was one of the tasks. I believe the trip required an overnight camp on the way.  I remember the machine tracks kept getting clogged up with snow and on a couple of occasions we broke through the ice on river crossing – that was scary and difficult to get out of the water ice.  At some point along the way many of us started to feel ill and as we processed so did the feeling of dizziness and nausea.   We made it to Norman Wells and went straight to the hospital where our CM poising was diagnosed.  We spent some time at the hospital on oxygen to ensure we were ok before our release.  Repairs were made to the leaky exhaust before the return journey – it’s not something I would care to do again.

Snowmobiles to Franklin – This was a wonderful cross-country adventure on these amazing over-the-snow machines with the wild country and wilderness scenery. If you stopped the eerie silence was profound but frostbite and suffering on the way home to Fort Norman was a reminder of the dangers that lurked for the unwary. The trip to Ft Franklin had been fun and daunting with travel through wilderness over the deep snow with a guide.  It was easy to be lost in these tundra conditions.  However, on the return journey, we left early and traveled throughout the day.  It was sunny with blue skies.

The light of day began to fade late in the afternoon and soon our travel was marred by darkness.  This gave the trip a new-found uneasiness.  That familiar pain of your toes and fingers getting too much cold and tinges of frostbite loomed.  The pain gets progressively worse and all you want is for it to go away and for the warmth to return.  No matter what you do it won’t stop.  Occasional trail breaks were taken to rest from the curling riding and attempts to warm my painful joints were not successful.  Tears had begun that would freeze quickly but then the lights of Ft Norman loomed in the distance.  We had only an hour or so to go until warmth would be found.

We did make the frozen river crossing and the home stretch.  The feet and hands were put into water to slowly return the body to the desired temperature and no permanent damage was done thank goodness.  Had we been any farther from civilization then I am sure there would have been severe frostbite and more substantial damage.  I don’t care to experience that level of pain again anytime soon, but snowmobiles are a fun way to travel.

Dangerous Underwater Dive; My Last – I have a vivid memory of one event I became involved with at Fort Norman to help out in a dire situation for the good of a local family and to support my RCMP friends.  It was the last time I ever went scuba diving; I put the tanks and gear away after this last dive.  The mighty McKenzie River is swift-flowing, muddy, and debris infested. The settlement was receiving one of the normal summer supply barges.  There were lots of activity on the shore and the forklift operator on the barge was busy unloading supplies as fast as possible to keep up the schedule.  He was busy moving around the barge deck, lifting pallet after pallet to load onto trucks for delivery around the village.

It was later in the afternoon when it happened.  The forklift operator backed up just a little too far on the deck and the wheels tipped over the edge.  The machine and operator were instantly swallowed up by the murky waters of the McKenzie.  Panic and excitement followed and everyone watched in anticipation that the driver might surface and live to recall this tale.  It was not to be.  He had unfortunately been taken to a watery grave in the north.

The RCMP took over the scene and tried to make arrangements for police divers to attend but they were not available for a few days.  The barge couldn’t be moved; goods were being delayed and refrigeration issues were a concern.  This barge had supplies to last other settlements for a year.  Attempts were made to try to hook the forklift but the swift current prevented it.  Frustration was evident with all concerned and no apparent solution to recover the body and forklift.

My memory has faded somewhat on this but either I volunteered or I was asked to volunteer – but no matter approval was granted by the RCMP subdivision for me as a civilian to assist in the investigation by doing a dive to attempt to recover the body. I recall being most apprehensive and my dive plan was probably against all safety protocols but in the north practical invention was the norm.  The water was very cold and you could not see your hand infant of your mask once submerged.  I had a lifeline tied to my tanks and tenders on the barge.  I made my way to the bottom guessing where the forklift might be.

I don’t recall how long I dove or if I made a number of attempts but I only had one tank of air so it couldn’t have been too long.  I recall feeling my way around on the bottom and not being able to see a thing – there it was some metal; a frame.  How was this thing sitting on the bottom – was it solid or on the edge and could it fall over and trap me on the bottom.  Apprehensively I inched my way around the forklift until I felt the cab and there, still strapped in his seat I felt the operator.  I managed to secure a rope as I recall and eventually, he was removed first, and then with cables attached, the forklift was winched out of that old river.

It was a cold, emotionally chilling, life-draining, and frightening experience.  It was a necessary job to save the body for the dignity of the person and family to ensure peace for the local community.  I didn’t take up scuba diving ever again and often wonder at what risk I actually put myself at.  Thank you, god, for helping me through that ordeal.

Signing Up’ Again – It turned out that I would re-engage or “sign up” in the RCMP and stay in the NWT for a few years.  The extremes of climate with long hard winters and short warm summers, northern lights, and unique indigenous culture were an attraction too great to resist.

Fort Good Hope – Rádeyįlįkóé – “Place of rapids”

There were only a handful of Caucasians in the settlement involved with the power station, school teaching, nursing station, Hudson Bay store, and Police station.

This was a two-person detachment with myself and the corporal. We had our police compound that contained the office, cell facilities, garage, and separate married and single living quarters. Our transport was by our police truck, Ski-Doo’s in winter. We used air services for remote access to wilderness camps or by boat.

Our caseload consisted of the usual policing matters from family disputes, theft, assaults of many kinds from physical to sexual assault, break & enter, deaths and suicide, medical evacuations, and accidents. A few incidents that I recall relate to a ski-doo accident, arresting a drunk on my ski-doo, causing the police garage to burn down.

Skidoo accident – It was a stormy night with snow falling heavily and it was cold. An accident was reported to have occurred involving a drunk individual who ran into a pregnant lady while driving a ski-doo and severally injured her. Her medical condition became severe and required emergency evacuation to the hospital.

This was at night and the airstrip was not lit electrically for a plane, to land, it required the RCMP to place oil pots along the runway to define the boundary.  A plane had been ordered but it would take an hour or two for it to arrive as I remember.  Now while dealing with the medical emergency it came to my attention that the father of the injured girl had decided to take justice into his own hands and armed with a gun was hunting for my suspect.

I was the lone police officer in the settlement as my boss was on holiday so in trying to multi-task priorities I solicited the assistance of the power station manager to accompany me (for backup to report if I should come to any harm), to search for both suspects before I had a murder to investigate. We drove from house to house and known acquaintances of the suspect to try to find either or both men.  Eventually, I was able to arrest the accident suspect and get him secured in the Police cells.

When the plane was due to land it required me, together with a couple of other trucks to locate the end of the runway with our headlights on to give the bush pilot a sense of depth and distance for landing.  The plane arrived and departed with the injured girl.  I was able to locate the father and disarm him to save further violence and injury.  The girl recovered from an operation and court hearings addressed both suspects’ behavior on the night.

Wild driver – A call from the Hudson’s Bay store manager indicated that a drunken individual was racing his ski-doo up and down the main road, nearly hitting pedestrians and doing donuts.  Mounting my own trusty metal snow machine with the RCMP crest on the side I was off in the direction of the store. A short drive saw me arrive at the antics of one crazy driver. I managed to get him to stop driving.  It seemed that I was now the target of his attention and a struggle ensued.  Being you and fit and have had a few years of practice in making arrests of unwilling suspects the game was on.  I recall that an audience of sorts convened to watch this wrestling show but through some well-practiced maneuvers, I managed to handcuff and detain the villain.  Now to transport him back to the office cells for processing.  Let us just say that my person in custody was placed across the ski-doo seat with me driving (like a person thrown over a horse) and off we drove in the snow-covered streets.

The police cells were in a wooden building.  While electricity was available heating was done with an oil stove and that was only activated once a person was arrested.  So if it was 20 or 30 below out it was the same inside until the heater built up warmth – and that could take a while.  So having arrived with my person in custody I attempted to coax him to the cells.  He wasn’t having any of that it seemed.  The path to the cells was a wooden walkway made of slats.  It was easy to get a handhold between the slats and this is just what my new friend decided to do… let’s play a game of how long will it take you to get me into the cell cabin.  After some wrestling and maneuvers, he was deposited in the cells and charged with various offenses not to mention resisting arrest.  He was duly dealt with by the courts during the next traveling circuit.

Fire alarm – The police garage was on fire, the settlement fire alarm was activated and the volunteer brigade was coming to put out the fire.  How did that get started – I was only just in the garage doing an oil change and grease job on the police truck.  I had slipped out to get a cup of coffee and to allow the oil cans to thaw near the heater – oh, oh?

When I emerged from the office to see what all the fire alarm fuss was about I quickly realized that it was our facility that was ablaze.  The flames were shooting high into the air and smoke was billowing.  The volunteer brigade managed to get the fire under control in quick order and everyone departed.

In investigating the incident and realizing that I may have created this disaster it weighed heavily on me.  It seems that when I left to get coffee to allow the oil cans to warm up enough to pour into the truck they were a bit too close to the stove.  They got too hot it seems – I had only planned to be gone a few minutes – and burst into flames quickly spreading.  The garage, truck, yard, and maintenance equipment were all lost.  A replacement vehicle was sought and eventually, a new garage and equipment were provided.  It was deemed an accident and I was reminded of my duty to be more careful in the future.  Lesson learned on managing in the Arctic.

Colville Lake –K’áhbamítúé – “Ptarmigan net place”

Normal Wells – Tłegóhtı – “Where there is oil”

My posting here was to provide holiday relief if my memory serves me correctly.  It was an oil town so the population was a mix of locals and transient oil men.  It was a rough kind of place at times with bars a popular place for socializing and a source of problems – once too much alcohol-fueled fun was had.  Call to break up fights or to deal with the protection of drunks was common.

Murder on the lake – While there I was asked to support a murder investigation by accompanying an investigator who was using a float plane to visit various settlements around Great Bear Lake to look for the suspect.  A murder had taken place at Deline (Fort Franklin) and the suspect had headed into the bush and not seen for some time.  Rumors abounded as to his whereabouts with apparent sightings at various fish and hunting camps scattered around the lake.  Our journey by single otter float plane did not result in finding this individual nor did we unearth further clues as to his hiding place in the massive bushland but it did prove entertaining for the pilot and the investigator.

The tactic was to fly the shoreline of Great Bear Lake, spotting itinerant native camps and landing to check out the area and speak with locals – to try to locate the murder suspect.  This proved fairly routine for our landings and takeoffs except for one occasion.

As we landed at one camp and the float plane taxied into shore the water became shallow and fairly rocky but the pilot maneuvered skillfully to shore.  With inquiry’s not revealing any leads we mounted the plane for a departure – we began to paddle the plane from the shore but soon became hung up on some rocks.  We pried and pushed and got into the water to free it but no luck.  The tactical decision was for me, as a young and enthusiastic constable, to stay on the floats outside, and use a paddle trying to pry the plane from the rocks as the pilot used the engine’s power to rock the plane.

This sounded reasonable until I was told that if the plane was freed from the rocks to avoid getting hung up again the pilot would power on the engine and get the plane airborne sufficiently to settle again in the deeper waters out into the lake – don’t worry I won’t go very high he told me.  Hey – just a minute, how am I to stay attached to the outside of the plane in this scary maneuver?  It is our only way out of this – can’t walk home, can stay forever and the plane was going to be left hung up on rocks.

So with instruction in my head and being slightly nervous about this approach, we began to execute it – he was rocking the single otter with his engine and I was trying to pry the plane off the rocks; then all of a sudden it was free and he hit the power lever – the plane gained speed quickly, I nearly crapped myself as it lifted into the air with me perched on the float. I quickly grabbed the nearest float strut to ensure I did not plummet into the icy cold water however, this is also where the aircraft engine exhausted and now it was burning hot on my arm.  The pain became unbearable about the time the plane finally settled back down to the water and taxied to a stop.  I was assisted into the plane with a slightly scorched and sore arm.  It appeared that during our escape one of the plane’s landing floats had been damaged with a small tear in the skin which meant that upon our return to Norman Wells, we would be making an airstrip landing as the plane could not use the float without a likely bad landing.

We didn’t find the suspect, we had an exciting adventure and saw some magnificent northern territory country and a tale to remember for a lifetime.

Inuvik – Place of people”

I was married here and our first son, Jason was born here. (check out my Canadian life page). Our first apartment was in a large building that had paper-thin walls. Drunken loud neighbors and music were a regular affair. We eventually secured rented townhouse accommodation that was fairly modern. I had a lovely German Shepard that I was raising and teaching as a potential police dog recruit.  I had applied for the PDS section and was awaiting a training opening.

It was a way of life never to be experienced anywhere else. It provided memories forever.

Policing in Inuvik was mainly dealing with alcohol-fueled violence and crime.

Drink driving was routine as was general drunkenness and rowdy behavior.

The clients in the main were local natives and transient workers who came to town for time off and too much fun.

Regular calls to local drinking holes to break up fights, deal with assaults, domestic violence, and suicides, and the regular break and enter, theft, and damage to property occupied our time.

I can recall many a story of the actions that occurred from our Police office which was situated in a large compound close to the center of town.

The bar at night was always good for action and a response to deal with fights and drunks. Unfortunately, the local community had its share of family disputes and during the winter months, there seemed an increase in depression from the isolation and darkness that caused suicides.

The Police office like most buildings in the permafrost areas in the north was built above ground so the holding cells and processing were up a very steep set of stairs.  This often proved challenging for those that had lost their leg action due to intoxication or for those many individuals who just didn’t want to cooperate.  Getting large and heavy either drunken or unwilling humans upstairs often required ingenious methods.  I was happy that there were at least a number of officers on duty and you were never by yourself.

Attending a family dispute one night, among so many, stands out due to the circumstances.  Upon arriving at the house that was rather dilapidated and certainly not well-kept we were confronted with a husband and wife who had been fighting.  The husband was unconscious on the floor and had been stabbed. She explained when asked that her husband had come home drunk and during the fight, she had hit him in the face with a very large metal skillet that had knocked him out.  The knife in him could not be explained?  It took about 4 of us to deal with this woman, to get her into the police truck and up those bloody stairs at the police station,

It was a bigger and more impersonal place and not like the community policing of the smaller settlements.

Farther north there were the river delta settlements of Aklavik and Tuktoyaktuk and the Bearing Sea outpost of Sachs Harbour which I was lucky enought to visit. All are unique, with friendly locals but very isolated.