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    Growing up on Eddie's Island
    Growing up on Eddie's Island
    Growing up on Eddie's Island
    Ebook117 pages1 hour

    Growing up on Eddie's Island

    By Charles Kaluza

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    About this ebook

    This book tells the story of growing up spending summers in the wilderness of Canada in a time before cell phones and the internet. We lived and worked without electricity and the only communication with the outside world was "message radio" which was broadcast daily at noon. It was 35 miles to the nearest town and the road system; which meant that all supplies needed to be either portaged in or flown in. Emergencies happen and suddenly two young boys were left alone on an island. The sounds of the night become so much more evident when you are alone.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCharles Kaluza
    Release dateDec 4, 2014
    ISBN9781311500090
    Growing up on Eddie's Island
    Author

    Charles Kaluza

    I am a retired ENT, Head and Neck Surgeon with a love of Science Fiction. The science and medicine in my books is based on reality with some room for growth.I was forced to retire because of medical problems but still enjoy life with a little fishing, flying and sailing to supplement the joy of my wife, children and grandchildren.

    Read more from Charles Kaluza

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      Book preview

      Growing up on Eddie's Island - Charles Kaluza

      Growing Up

      on

      Eddie's Island

      Charles Kaluza

      Smashwords Edition

      Published 2014 Charles Kaluza

      Smashwords Edition, License Notes

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

      Chapter 1

      Growing up on Eddie's Island

      The old wood canoe hanging from my garage ceiling is a reminder of my first experience in the wilderness. My father and uncle had taken my older brother and me to the Boundary Waters Wilderness Area for a fishing trip. This 18 foot cedar strip canoe held all of our gear without difficulty and as my uncle in the back and father in the front paddled, my brother and I were stuffed amongst the backpacks in the center of the canoe. I cannot remember where we traveled, having been only about five years old, but I distinctly remember the joy of being on the water. We made several portages and I recall how difficult I thought carrying my small backpack was. The most exciting event was the night of the storm. We were awakened by a thunderstorm and soon everything inside the tent was wet, for the ground beneath us had turned into a pond. I remember how cold I was wrapped in the wet sleeping bag and how my dad and uncle worked to reset the tent in a dryer location.

      I do not remember if we caught fish or not but it really did not matter. The journey was excitement enough and launched me on a wilderness quest. This love of the wilderness has persisted throughout my life. The essays that follow are a recounting of my experiences spending the summers and Christmas vacations in the wilderness. These experiences helped mold me and guide me throughout my life.

      By today's standards my childhood would be considered poor, but the opportunity of living in the wilderness gave me a richness which money could not buy. We had enough to eat and who wanted to wear shoes in the summertime, shoes were for school and church. When we did get a new pair of shoes you got to put your foot in this x-ray box and could see your foot inside the shoe. One of my mother’s favorite sayings was, Where are your shoes?

      Getting a new pair of jeans was a major event rather than the hand me downs from my brother. We learned to fix our bikes and managed to explore far beyond our neighborhood despite the simplicity and age of the bikes we rode. I never had a new bike as a kid, but it did not matter for I was always able to keep up with the other kids and knew how to fix the one I had. I did have one advantage none of the other kids had…I spent summers in the wilderness on Eddie's Island.

      Chapter 2

      The Island

      I was seven years old in 1957 when my uncle bought the island which would come to be known as Eddie's Island. He had recently also purchased a very much used J3 Piper Cub airplane on floats and then learned to fly. His love of the Sanford Lake region in Canada had begun as a tourist visiting the only lodge in the area after his return from WWII. He became friends with the owner Phil Sado and within a few years was spending his vacation time guiding at the camp. It was Phil who recommended he buy the island because the summer breeze would keep the bugs down. Phil's camp was built on the remains of an old logging camp which simplified the building but there was little summer breeze.

      My parents along with four kids and a baby made the journey north to vacation on the seven acre island. As was normal we stopped in Chisholm to see my dad's father and brothers. We then continued the journey to the Canadian border. It seemed to take forever but was in reality only a 300 mile drive in total. Our uncle met us at the dock and started loading us into the small airplane. It took all day to ferry us one or two at a time to the island. The small two place airplane was packed completely full for each trip. It was about an hour flight to the island from the Canadian side of the border.

      This was my first experience in an airplane and the excitement of being in the air and seeing the ground move below us was awesome. Being in the airplane as it taxied for takeoff on the water was not a big deal, much like being in a power boat. As the roar of the 65 horse engine developed full power and the airplane rose on step I would have been both excited and anxious. As soon as the airplane broke free of the water the vibration settled down and we slowly climbed above the trees.

      Now this airplane was definitely not new and always smelled somewhat of aviation gas. I was too small to see out the front window and found myself staring out the side window at the ground moving below me. Airsickness soon took its toll but I cared little, for the opportunity of seeing the world moving below was worth it. We landed on Sanford Lake and taxied to the beach. Before my uncle would let us get out he stepped out and turned the airplane around. After we were safely aground he climbed up on the wing strut and added more fuel before taking off again to claim more of the family. A tent camp had been set up on top of the hill with both the cooking tent and sleeping tents. The mosquitoes must have been a terrible problem but I do not remember it as being an issue, for the excitement of being in the woods on an island on a beautiful lake made it irrelevant. Besides, my father believed there was no such thing as too much insect spray.

      There was a small boat and motor but we did not all fit at one time so we needed to take turns fishing with my father. The lake was unbelievably clear and you could easily see the bottom in 40 feet of water. Swimming was fantastic with the clear water but the beach had small pebbles instead of sand which was a bit hard on the feet. We would swim until we turned blue from the cold water and then my mother would make us get out and warm up. The week went by all too quickly and it was time to ferry us back to the border and our car.

      The long drive back to Minneapolis was again broken up with a stop in Chisholm and a visit with my grandfather. He, by then, was pretty crippled up with a hunchback. He talked little but always wanted to play checkers with us kids. Seems like the grown-ups could never beat him in checkers but us kids could. He would spend the days sitting in an old car parked behind the house and read his books. He really loved the old Westerns. As he sat and read we would sit in the car and pretend to drive. Then he would pay us to pick the potato bugs off his garden plants. The pay wasn't important; it was the fact that there was a little kerosene in the bottom of the can and after we had put the bugs in the can we got to light the kerosene and listen to the bugs pop.

      Back to the city and normal life. Summer was coming to an end and school was fast approaching. Spending time at the lake is normal enough in Minnesota but flying to a wilderness camp was not. My friends did not understand why it was such a big deal, but I did. We continued to ride our bikes the four miles or so to fish in Rice Creek but it just was not the same anymore.

      Chapter 3

      The Building of the Lodge

      Our second trip to the island was much like the first, but now there was a real project going on. My uncle had a friend, Emil, who was a stone mason from Finland. He helped my uncle build stone footings for the cabin. He spoke with the singsong accent of those from Finland and could work wonders with

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