My Mother, like all great Mothers diligently kept up the family photo album. On rainy or boring days it was always a treat to look at pictures of our friends and relatives. Almost always posed. Certainly in their Sunday best. This was the days of the Kodak camera. Pictures were taken only on “Special” occasions, weddings, family reunions, and occasionally Christmas. Sprinkled in the mix was the yearly School Class pictures. What a treasure trove of memories would be conjured up today if more pictures had been taken. Photo developing cost money. Better used for seed or nets or everyday living, not some picture of a lone fisherman going one on one with Mother Nature, while an 8 year old child sat quietly in the stern of the 14 foot flat bottomed row boat. Occasionally tossing a Tullibee fish to the circling gulls. Just to hear them screech. Thereby breaking the silence and the lone fishermen’s concentration. Of course the child was admonished for teasing the gulls. The picture is frozen in my memory. A pity only I can see in detail the fish being harvested under a dark foreboding sky, while a rogue wave breaks over the bow. That scene is played only in the theatre of my mind. The memory of that moment is as clear to me as if it happened today. It cannot be reproduced in any usable form. Of course my eventual demise will along with the picture fade to black. What a treat it would have been, to have had a hand-held phone to record the events. Millions upon millions of “You-Tube” subscribers could have witnessed the everyday drama of work-a-day life in a setting very few could ever imagine

I should mention that we were fortunate that my Father’s sisters husband, Pete Peterson, subscribed to the weekly news magazine “LIFE”. We were privileged to receive the copies after they had read them. War was raging all over the world. Our way of life as we knew it was threatened on a daily basis. The Life Photographers took endless pictures thereby recording for posterity those awful times. I studied those pictures like a Scholar would study the “The Dead Sea Scrolls”. Even now when I pick up an old Life Magazine in an Antique Market I can relate to the pictures of that time long ago. I silently thank those LIFE photographers for recording the World’s events as they saw them.

I am drawn to a picture of a lone man, dressed in a home made parka with heavy overalls. No
doubt wearing home made warm Icelandic mittens and socks tucked into gum rubbers. He is standing on glare ice. It is winter. It’s cold. The background is the the Canadian Shield, on the east shore of Lake Winnipeg approximately 50 miles north of Gimli. Someone has had the foresight to date and identify the photo. It states. Ted. 1925. Why is my Father there? What’s he doing. The answer is Winter fishing. Why there? That was where my grand father Siggi Kristjanson and Steinni Sigmundson had partnered in 1924, to build their fall and winter fishing station. More questions bring the usual “Not know I am busy”. As I grow older the picture will not leave my memory. In my sole pursuit of study of self, I raise the question of the Granite Quarry with my parents and others. This is not a life threatening thing, so slowly over time a picture takes place. A long but saved never sent letter is produced.

Briefly it is a letter written to a young peoples organization. Possibly a Unitarian Church group. My Father was born May 30, 1912. This would make him 13 years old at the time. It’s a marvellous teenager’s insight into a world very few of his classmates would ever witness. The eye sees and the hand records the events, but why is he there? Well as the letter indicates and my father explains. In the fall of 1924, he skipped school for a week and sailed from Gimli to the Granite Quarry to see his Father. That’s clear. But why is the letter written in February 1925? Well my Father has now quit school for reasons of necessity. He is working full time as a fishermen with his father and brothers at the Quarry. Perhaps the letter was a pang of melancholy to his now distanced church mates. Perhaps that’s why it was never sent. We are grateful for its survival. He is at this wonderful natural harbour for the purpose of taking advantage of the abundance of Sauger fish found nearby in the Channel. The Channel is that narrow body of water that connects the South Basin to the North Basin of Lake Winnipeg. Outside of the Coal/wood fired engines of the Fish Freighters who picked up the weekly catch, to the fishermen all forms of transportation was manual. That meant a fisherman, usually in a flat bottomed skiff would row out to the fishing grounds. Set his nets. Row back. Then row out again to lift his nets. Rowing the catch back to shore for processing. Time consuming hard work. The close existence of a natural all weather harbour made life easier. Especially when the Great Lake and her some time beau the North Wind decided to have a fling, causing huge havoc and destruction. The harbour entrance was guarded by an island of solid rock. On three sides of the harbour were high granite hills. The existence of this safe harbour, which was roughly a mile long was known and used in earliest times by First Nations Peoples. Certainly the Voyageurs. The Hudson Bay Brigades on their long trips from York Factory up the mighty Nelson River to Lower Fort Garry on the Red River in present day Winnipeg would have rested there.

In the days before the First World War cooking was done primarily in steel pots and pans. A process was invented whereby pulverized Granite stone could be applied to these steel utensils. The result was commonly called Granite Ware. Its bright blue colour was an instant success with households the world over. To this day old Granite Ware utensils are much prized by collectors. Modern Granite Ware is still very much in use as roasters and home canners. The natural all weather harbour with its deep port was a site chosen to mine the Granite. Another plus was the cheap cost of transportation that water afforded. A company called The Lake Winnipeg Shipping Company was formed in 1913. The M.V. Granite Rock was built in Selkirk as a steam tug, as were the barges. The processed stone would be shipped by barge and towed by the M.V. Granite Rock to Selkirk. The enclosed picture shows the cleft in the Granite hill, where ore was hauled by tram car after being blasted by dynamite. The site included Miners Cabins and a large Superintendents Cottage. The Cottage was actually a small motel with many bedrooms and a large cooking area.

The start of the First World War halted the mining, and the mill only operated for the years 1914-1915. The mine was eventually abandoned as the world discovered new ways of making cooking utensils. For a time a Watchman looked after the site. He too became redundant and the fishing industry took over. Before this happened another extraordinary event happened. The purveyors of death decided to change to the Lee Enfield Rifle as the front line weapons of the British Army. Up to now the rifle of choice was the Snyder rifle. The rifle used a heavy caliber 450 grain lead bullet. The Geneva Convention stated it would be more humane if opposing armies were killed with 125 grain steel coated bullets. Nice touch. What to do with all the Snyder ammunition collecting dust in Military warehouses in Manitoba. In those days Canada was divided up into Military Districts. Each being responsible for disposing of its own surplus ordinance. A plan was hatched to use the old granite barges which were residing in the Selkirk Slough. Load up all the surplus ordnance and ship it down the Red River to a deep point of the Lake near Long Point. A distance of 250 miles from Selkirk. At some point the barges pulled into the Granite Quarry harbour. Why? Was there a storm on the Great Lake. Did the tug hauling the barges experience mechanical or other difficulties? Were the barges to be just parked there to continue the voyage later? Did an early freeze up send a signal to the Captain to head back home? Rumours persisted for many years that the crew of the M.V. Granite Rock persuaded the Captain to not go any further. The reason being Snyder rifles were plentiful for hunting, but ammunition was expensive. We will never know the true reasons for the abandonment of the barges. There they sit, or what is left of them to this day.

Years later my brother Robert and I took our father on a trip of remembrance to the Granite Quarry. We trailered Robert’s 22 foot yawl to Calder’s Dock on the west side of the lake. Then using his powerful 100 horse power out board motor, we traversed the 6 miles to the Quarry harbour. Father recalled his first visit there as a school boy in 1924. His mind like a forgotten news reel recalling in minute detail where all the buildings were situated. He said all the equipment along with the barges of ammunition were still there then. What a thrill for us to witness that part of his growing up years. As we walked along the shore picking up pieces of corroded bullet casings. I wondered out loud what happened to all the bullets. Our Father said “We took a sledge hammer to the casings. The large lead slug popped off. We then melted the lead and used them to this day to weigh down the bottom line of our fishing nets”.

The last part of the story is interesting for our family. In the early thirties my parents wed. Of course during those hard times a “Honeymoon” was out of the question. So my forward frugal father took his blushing bride on a Fisherman’s honeymoon. They moved into the Superintendents Cottage. My mother became the Cookee for her mother-in-law. The cottage not only housed my grandparents but my Dad’s brothers. Hannes and Siborg. My Mother often mentioned of the idyllic setting of the Quarry. Its peacefulness away from a world going madder by the minute.

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January 2013