Martineau River: Hauling Logs and Ice – Chapter 2 of 5

Written by Harold McNeill on October 10th, 2010. Posted in Family 1940 1965

 Hauling Ice and Logs

Photo (Cold Lake History on Web): Cutting, hauling and storing ice was a yearly ritual at a time when refrigerators consisted of an insulated box filled with ice.

Link to Next Post:  A Winter Dash to the Hospital
Link to Last Post: Martineau River Logging Camp (Start of Part II)
Link to Family Stories Index

Winter, 1945

My stomach was churning and my head splitting. I did not say anything to Uncle Tonnie but I could feel my stomach pushing into my throat. Suddenly, Uncle Tonnie stopped the truck. I fumbled with the door handle and as soon as it opened, I jumped out. When the cold winter air hit me I bent over and threw up on the pure white snow that lined the side of the road.

I heaved again and again and again, not even able to catch my breath. I thought I was going to choke to death. On the other side of the truck, Uncle Tonnie was bent over emptying the contents of his stomach.

Finally, after what seemed forever, my heaves began to subside and I was able to breath. I looked down and the new plaid shirt and wool breaches Santa had given me for Christmas were wet. When I saw small chunks of food stuck to the heavy, wool fabric, I stared to cry. Through my tears I told Uncle Tonnie: “I want to go home to mom.” Tonnie walked me over to the house.

Early that day Uncle Tonnie had asked mom if I could spend the day with him. For the past few days he had not been at the camp as he had been busy hauling ice for one of the mink ranchers. During our trips I would often meet up with my cousin Bob who often traveled with our other cousin Reggie who, at 16 or 17 was about the same age as Tonnie.

Bob’s dad, Floyd, and cousin, Reggie, along with my Uncle Tonnie, all drove trucks. Uncle Floyd and Auntie Alice lived at the Allard Saw Mill while my mom and dad lived and worked at the Hett and Sibble logging camp on the upper Martineau. Tonnie and Reggie often stayed in Cold Lake at the Lakeview Hotel where Reggie’s mom, my Aunt Irene, ran the restaurant.

For our trips mom would pack a big lunch for Tonnie and me, a lunch that included plenty of those wonderful, sugar coated, donuts for which mom was famous. I can still see Uncle Tonnie with a donut in one hand, a coffee in the other and a cigarette burning in the ashtray. He was about seventeen and was my hero.

Heading back to camp late one night, Uncle Tonnie left the ice road and made the long slow climb away from the lake. The logging roads were clear of snow but slippery, narrow and winding so he had to drive carefully to avoid hitting a tree. In the bush, Tonnie spent much of the time in first or second gear deftly downshifting from second to first by ‘double clutching’.

The car lights reflected on the snow along the road. Cousin Bob, his dad and Uncle, were probably a few miles behind having been delayed discussing some important “business” deal in the Lakeview beer parlour.  Looking out the side window, the trees became dark silhouettes and the light of the full moon glistened on the snow. The limbs on jack pine and spruce bowed under the heavy weight of the snow.

We were only about fifteen minutes from the camp when we both became sick and jumped out of the car.  After we had finished throwing up, Uncle Tonnie cleaned me up as best he could and we got back in the truck. The smell of vomit was so strong I thought I was going throw up again so we both rolled down our windows to get some fresh air.

As soon as we arrived at camp I jumped out and ran to the small cabin where mom, dad, Louise and I lived.  Mom took one look at me and immediately stripped off all my clothes and washed me up.  Once I was in my pyjamas and snuggled in my bed, I still had a headache but felt better being close to my mom.  I fell asleep while mom held a cold compress on my forehead.

Mom well remembered the incidents:

“I think you and Tonnie got sick from exhaust fumes leaking into the cab. I hated the smell of fumes and often got sick myself when we road in those old trucks. It was not a big a problem in the summer when the windows were open but in the winter, when it was cold, with the windows rolled tight, I now know it was very dangerous and it was just lucky no one died. 

I felt so sorry for you when you got home as you were so upset about throwing up on your jacket and breeches. You were so proud of those clothes as they looked just like the ones your dad and Uncle Tonnie wore. By the time you woke in the next morning I had them all washed, dried and ready to wear.”

A couple of days later we learned that Floyd, Reggie and Bob had also been in an accident and Cousin Bob’s chin had been badly cut. Bob related his story:

“I had gone to town with dad and my Cousin Reggie (Johnson). As I recall you traveled in another logging truck with your Uncle Tonnie. Once the two trucks had dumped their last load of logs at the mill, the men usually headed to the Lakeview1 Hotel to have a bite to eat and to say hello Auntie Irene (dad’s sister and Reggie’s mom), who was the chief cook and bottle washer in the restaurant. Reggie’s younger sister, Cousin Joyce was usually hanging around somewhere.

Of course my dad (Floyd) and Reggie also hit the bar for a few beers while Tonnie you and I waited in the restaurant. Tonnie was still too young to get in the bar as the legal drinking age was still 21 but the men usually found a way to slip him a couple of bottles. After an hour or so on the lake we cut off toward the Allard Mill.

When making a turn on the winding snow covered road Reggie cut a bit to close to one of the big trees along and hooked the flat deck box.  It jerked the truck to a sudden halt and I was thrown from my dad’s lap into the dash.  My chin struck the small button on the glove compartment and it poked a hole in my chin through to the bone.  I was bleeding all over until my dad found an old cloth to hold over the cut.  I stared to cry and through four year old tears I told dad: “I want to go home to mom.”

The cut healed nicely but it was clear he was going to have a scar for a long time. Both his dad and Cousin Reggie got holly what-ever from Auntie Alice for staying in the bar drinking when they should have been heading home.  Uncle Floyd also really got it for leading his nephew, who was only a few years younger, astray. Just another day trucking for men and boys!

The winter continued with the men working in the bush, hauling logging trucks and our mothers doing the cooking and looking after things at the camps. It was a good winter as there were many members of both families and a lot of friends in the area. While life was hard, both mom and dad realized they had made the right decision in leaving Birch Lake.

Harold McNeill

Link to Next Post:  A Winter Dash to the Hospital
Link to Last Post: Martineau River Logging Camp (Start of Part II)
Link to Family Stories Index


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  • Mike Fedorowich

    September 1, 2023 |

    I have gone through the above noted text and have found it quite informative.
    I am a former member with several law enforcement agencies from across Canada.
    I worked in the First Nations service under the authority of the RCMP with the over sight of the OPP. My law enforcement service was conducted under the authority of the Nishnawbe – Aski Police Service in North West Ontario the Louis Bull Police Sevice in Hobbema AB, the Kitasoo Xaixais Police Service in Northern in side passage on Swindle Island, the Lac Suel Police Service North West Ontario and the Vancouver Transit Authority Sky Train Police Service. I’m presently dealing with an RCMP member for falsifying a report against me for a road rage event. Court case is finished and the charge was dropped but I have an on going complaint with the member and have forwarded to the WATCH DOGS IN OTTAWA FOR the RCMP review and consideration. I believe the said officer is in violation of his oath of office and should be held accountable for falsifying his RTCC all the while dragging me through the court system here in Nanaimo. RCMP continue to stonewall the appeal but Ottawa and the crowns office are still looking into the matter. if your able and find the time or the interest in this very brief introduction, I would very much like to speak with you and would be grateful to hear any wisdom that may come across from your end. I served with First Nations Police Services for ten years in isolation and six years with Transit Police out of New West Minster. I do value and appreciate any time you could spare to chat for a bit on this particular subject matter. Respectfully with out anger but an open mind, Mike Fedorowich Nanaimo BC 250 667 0060

  • Harold McNeill

    February 28, 2022 |

    Hi Robert, I do remember some of those folks from my early years in Cold Lake (Hazel was my aunt and our family spent many fond times with Uncle Melvin, Aunt Hazel and Family. I knew Lawrence and Adrian. Having read a half dozen accounts it is clear their were many false narratives and, perhaps, a few truths along the way. I tried my best to provide an even account from what I read. Cheers, Harold. (email:

  • Robert Martineau

    February 25, 2022 |

    Its been a long time since any post here, but its worth a shot. My Grandfather was Hazel Wheelers brother Lawrence, and son to Maggie and Adrien. Maggie Martineau (nee Delaney) is my great grandmother. The books and articles to date are based on the white mans viewpoint and the real story as passed down by the Elders in my family is much more nefarious. Some of the white men were providing food for the Indians in exchange for sexual favors performed by the Squaws. Maggie was the product of one of those encounters. Although I am extremely proud of my family and family name, I am ashamed about this part of it.

  • Julue

    January 28, 2022 |

    Good morning Harold!
    Gosh darn it, you are such a good writer. I hope you have been writing a book about your life. It could be turned into a movie.
    Thanks for this edition to your blog.
    I pray that Canadians will keep their cool this weekend and next week in Ottawa. How do you see our PM handling it? He has to do something and quick!
    Xo Julie

  • Herb Craig

    December 14, 2021 |

    As always awesome job Harold. It seems whatever you do in life the end result is always the same professional, accurate, inclusive and entertaining. You have always been a class act and a great fellow policeman to work with. We had some awesome times together my friend. I will always hold you close as a true friend. Keep up the good work. Hope to see you this summer.
    Warm regards
    Herb Craig

  • Harold McNeill

    November 26, 2021 |

    Hi Dorthy, So glad you found those stories and, yes, they hold many fond memories. Thanks to social media and the blog, I’ve been able to get in touch with many friends from back in the day. Cheers, Harold

  • Harold McNeill

    November 26, 2021 |

    Well, well. Pleased to see your name pop up. I’m in regular contact via FB with many ‘kids’ from back in our HS days (Guy, Dawna, Shirley and others). Also, a lot of Cold Lake friends through FB. Cheers, Harold

  • Harold McNeill

    November 26, 2021 |

    Oh, that is many years back and glad you found the story. I don’t have any recall of others in my class other than the Murphy sisters on whose farm my Dad and Mom worked.

  • Harold McNeill

    November 26, 2021 |

    Pleased to hear from you Howie and trust all is going well. As with you, I have a couple of sad stories of times in my police career when I crossed paths with Ross Barrington Elworthy. Just haven’t had the time to write those stories.

  • Howie Siegel

    November 25, 2021 |

    My only fight at Pagliacci’s was a late Sunday night in 1980 (?) He ripped the towel machine off the bathroom wall which brought me running. He came after me, I grabbed a chair and cracked him on the head which split his skull and dropped him. I worried about the police finding him on the floor. I had just arrived from Lasqueti Island and wasn’t convinced the police were my friends. I dragged him out to Broad and Fort and left him on the sidewalk, called the cops. They picked him up and he never saw freedom again (as far as I know). I found out it was Ross Elworthy.