My grandfather Siggi was born April 25, 1879 at Skagafjörður, Iceland. Shortly thereafter, his father Kristjan died from consumption, a disease now called Tuberculosis. Bad luck dogged the people of Northern Iceland in the early 1880s. The fjord ice remained longer than normal, which prevented the fishermen from getting out to sea. The extended cold season meant a poor hay crop. The farmers had to sell their sheep at distressed prices in order to survive. Many people in the area looked to the new lands overseas in the hopes of starting a new life.

Following her husband’s passing, Siggi's mother, Sievnn, was having a desperate time caring for her little brood. A local childless couple Hannes and Ingibörg Jonsson, offered to adopt my grandfather and take him to Canada. My great grandmother, with a heavy heart, gratefully agreed. My grandfather was only four years old when he was fostered out this way. It was a common custom practiced in Iceland in those times. He never saw his mother again.

With little Siggi in tow, Hannes and Ingiborg sailed in a small sailboat from Skagafjörður to Reykjavik, to await a coastal steamer to Scotland. They all waited several weeks. This must have been a very difficult time for the emigres considering they had sold all their meagre possessions at give away prices. They had very little money to purchase the necessities to survive. As well, the local people were not at all pleased that they were leaving the country, and were reluctant to help. Fortunately, the Steam Ship Company came through with sufficient supplies until the coastal freighter arrived. They eventually sailed for Scotland and then boarded a Canadian Government subsidized steamship for the long voyage to their new home. On the way, several of his new-found friends did not survive and were buried at sea. Grandfather Siggi related this incident to my father Ted Kristjanson many years later. He said he had asked his foster parents why his friend was wrapped and in bed sheet. They told him simply to be quiet.

Eventually, they arrived in Quebec City for the next part of their odyssey, a 1500 mile trip by coach to Winnipeg in one day. After a short rest in the immigration sheds next to the CPR lines on Higgins, they were off yet again. This time it was a sixty mile boat ride down the Red River to Gimli, the capital of New Iceland. Next it was three miles by oxen to their new homestead north of Gimli. It was located on a small creek which they called Skipalak; literally translated to Ship’s Harbour. It was there that the Jonssons kept a small flat-bottomed skiff which they used to cautiously fish Lake Winnipeg.

Grandfather Siggi was very entrepreneurial and tried his hand at many occupations. He was a commercial fisherman at age 12 at Albert’s Point on Humback Bay. He drove a Hanson Cab for Bardal and Sons Funeral Emporium in Winnipeg. He was a clerk at Tergeson’s general store in Gimli. He was even a contract mail hauler. Twice a month he walked or hauled by horse the mail from Cavalier, North Dakota to Icelandic River (now Riverton). He bragged that he worked for both Queen Victoria and the President of the United States at the same time. I have a letter addressed to S. Jonasson dated from 1897. It could very well have been carried by my grandfather many years ago.

A quick learner and highly adaptable, Siggi did well at most things he tried, but he had a lifelong affair with the Lake, and was always drawn back to her. He graduated to fisherman, then a boat owner and fish station operator. Eventually, the Canadian Pacific Railway extended the line from Winnipeg Beach north to Gimli. This was partly to keep pace with the new Province of Manitoba’s expansion from its’ postage stamp size of 1870. More importantly, it was a business move. It was profitable for the railroad immediately. They hauled in settlers and supplies. On the return trip, they hauled fish and cordwood. Winnipeg and the United States had developed quite a taste for Lake Winnipeg fish. The cordwood went to heat Winnipeg homes, which at the time, was the fuel of choice. Fishing was good with tens of thousands of pounds of pickerel, sturgeon, whitefish and goldeye.

My grandfather had a job in between seasons as a bartender at the Lakeview Hotel in Gimli, later becoming Betel Home. There he met the hard living and harder drinking railroaders. After hours, he participated in the nightly card games, being a born risk-taker. My grandmother Sigurbörg (Sigga) on the other hand, was totally against her husband’s apparent career change. Grandmother was an early supporter of Nellie McClung and the suffragette movement. As well as being a strong supporter of the Good Templars. Long story short: my grandfather returned to fishing.

In those days, the summer whitefish season on the north end of Lake Winnipeg started on June first and continued uninterrupted until October 15th. The fishermen sailed in open sailboats with an overall length of 28 feet. They usually ranged about thirty miles from the fish station. There were no gas stoves to heat food or to make hot coffee. My grandfather would relate years later that towards the end of season if was not uncommon for the sails to freeze solid. This required them to beat the sails with boards so that they could haul them up the mast.

In the summer of 1922, my grandfather and his crew were fishing at Warren’s Landing at the north end of Lake Winnipeg. A couple of Hudson Bay men were travelling to visit their post in Norway House. As the Nelson River is not navigable at night, they were forced to stay over at Warren’s Landing. To pass the evening, they asked the local RCMP officer if he knew any card players. The Hudson Bay men whispered to each other that they would clean out the locals before proceeding down river to Norway House. The Mountie contacted my grandfather and the game was on! Needless to say, it was the Hudson Bay men who came up short in the morning. Their complaints to the RCMP officer that the card game was fixed were waved off.

At first light, my grandfather cleared his throat and lit a cigar. He then took a swallow of Gooderham & Worts and then assembled his crew to head to the fishing grounds. Fishing was good that day. However, just as they were finishing lifting their nets, a major storm blew up from the northeast. To prevent their overloaded sailboat from sinking, they tacked to the nearest shelter. The Spider Islands did not offer much lea from the wind. They managed to get behind one of the bigger islands and beached their craft. Hungry, cold, wet and exhausted, they built a fire to cook some of their catch and keep warm through the night. In the morning, with the storm still raging, Grandfather Siggi took out of his pocket a huge roll of sodden bills. As one of the crew would later relate: “there we were, placing rocks on the wet bills to try and dry them out while the wind howled. We had all this money and couldn't even buy a cup of hot coffee!”.

Ken Kristjanson
May 30, 2007