Porcupine quills. Hmmm, it doesn’t make these prickly creatures very appealing, given their sharp “projectile” coat. Google provided lots of information I wish I’d known when living at Grave Flats Lookout back in ’92. There are plenty of myths that have perpetuated to this day:

Common misconceptions about porcupine quills

Myth: A porcupine can “shoot” its quills.

Truth: the quills pointed ends stick to the offending animal strongly when they attempt to sniff or bite the porcupine.

Myth: You must cut the ends off, because they’ll come out easier.

Truth: there is no “vacuum” inside, if you cut the ends off, they’re more likely to go in deeper or be difficult to remove.

Myth: The quills tips are barbed.

Truth: Viewed under scanning electron microscope we can see that they are layered like shingles.

Interesting. Anywho, best get on with my story…

Up on the mountain, our dog flew out the cabin door on that beautiful spring evening with his boundless enthusiasm, even after a hike down to the spring and back. Just like us, he was enjoying the space and freedom in the alpine habitat. I went to fire up the generator (spoiling the quiet, but the radios and equipment needed to be recharged daily). Dusk was setting in. I returned to the cabin, checked on my daughter, and put the kettle on. “Thump” against the outside wall. When I investigated, I found Spock making friends with the visitor. A porcupine.

He got away lightly with only a few quills in his nose. Silly dog. He seemed unfazed, but a few nights later, kabang! I counted 42 quills of various lengths and thicknesses sticking out of his nose. Our poor dog.

“XMA29 this is XMA286”

“286 this is 29. Good evening.”

I told the forestry rangers my tale (tail?) of woe. I could hear jokes and laughter in the background. They had various suggestions of what to do.

I gave Spock a couple of aspirin. Then I attempted to extract some of the quills with pliers. Animal activists and my best friend (a veterinarian) would be horrified, but long story short, the dog survived and was okay. He stayed away from the animals after that. For a while, that is.

Except the porcupines kept showing up in the evening, exploring our living space, and the underside of my station wagon that was parked close to the cabin. Even though they were kind of cute to watch, slow moving and smaller than my dog, I was worried about further encounters…

 

 

 

 

Join me next week for a story about our adventure off the mountain on a quiet  summer evening… 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Greetings readers!   

The Grave Flats fire lookout cabin was not your typical cabin. It was a white metal clad two story structure bolted to the ground with heavy duty cables. In fact all the associated structures –the generator shed, supply shed and outhouse were all secured to the ground – and of course I didn’t think of the implications until a severe storm blew in the following month (as many of you know being told something and feeling it are not the same thing at all, no matter how graphic the description might be). But I’ll leave that story for another blog post, because it was an experience etched in my memory like an unforgettable movie.

In some ways living on the mountain was similar to camping – surrounded by the great outdoors, with some luxuries, but if you were the “I need to shower every day and have a flush toilet” kinda person, or the “I hate being alone” type, this temporary (4 to 5 months) lifestyle would not appeal. To get clean, some fire tower/lookout persons used an outdoor shower system utilizing collected rain water, but Grave Flats was exposed and not usually that warm, so I drew the curtains, heated some water, and used an inflatable kiddie pool to bathe. We had a big rain barrel outside the door and my 5 year old was more than enthusiastic about bath time. There was an old fashioned washboard for laundry and a clothesline outside. I got very good at baking bread in the propane oven, and our fridge was just the right size for a few weeks worth of supplies.

Looking at life from higher elevations… as XMA286

We had various random grocery deliveries, and I drove down the mountain about once a month for needed supplies. It was one hundred kilometers to my home in small-town Robb, in an area known by locals as The Coal Branch.

http://history.alberta.ca/energyheritage/coal/triumphs-and-tragedies-1914-1930/albertas-coal-town-evolution/the-coal-branch.aspx

I’d obtain special permission to leave for twenty four hours via radio, only if the fire hazard was low. It was like a mini adventure to drive from Grave Flats Lookout – me, our dog and daughter heading back to civilization for a brief rendezvous.

In my first month while on my own, I kept our friendly dog indoors at night as I’d heard unfamiliar noises outside the cabin and feared for bears or other unwanted wildlife. So far I’d seen mountain bluebirds, deer and marmot but something was definitely brushing up against the outside of the cabin that had me concerned. Then I started hearing the noise around dusk (2200 hours) and thought it might be a good idea to investigate. I decided to wait until the next night.  Sleep was a priority before that blasted alarm went off early the next morning for daily weather reading duties. It was one of my main jobs as Grave Flats Lookout Woman  while working for the Alberta Forest Service. I was not a good early riser.

The weather reading instruments were housed in a non-descript elevated box to the south of the cabin off a gravel footpath. I recorded temperatures, dew point, wind speed, cloud cover and such and passed the collected information…

… over the forestry radio system along with twelve other towers/lookouts in the region. I scrambled most mornings to make the 0745 hour check in (on the 24 hour clock) and if the fire hazard was low I didn’t have to spend all day in the cupola. “XMA35 this is XMA286. Morning weather at Grave Flats…” I passed over some numbers and calculations, and headed downstairs. It was time for perked coffee 🙂

Approaching dusk on that same evening, me and my fur buddy prowled the alpine meadow surrounding the cabin listening and watching for the noise maker. The breeze was mild. Soon I saw a dark shadow that turned into a slow moving animal smaller than my dog brushing up against the cabin. Spock barked and the “critter” ambled off. I had my answer when I discovered a few porcupine quills on the ground near the cabin. Even though I didn’t know anything about these animals (no google or cell phones then) I knew enough to stay away from them and their prickly quills. The following night, however, my dog was in for a surprise.

 

To be continued next Monday…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hellooooo Reader!

Welcome to my new blog, the Rocky Mountain Rambler. I’ve pulled out the old photo albums and am excited to share a few stories of my adventures in the mountains of Alberta, thirty-ish years ago. I best keep going before nostalgia sets in.

My experiences living 7000′ at a fire lookout during the summers of 1992/93 ties in with my recently published novel (Beyond Mountain Park) setting, in the majestic peaks close to the ghost town of Mountain Park, in close proximity to Jasper National Park.

https://www.albertaparks.ca/parks/central/whitehorse-wpp/information-facilities/trails/mountain-park-cemetery-historic-mining-townsite/

At that time, I was excited to live the reclusive life of what I thought of as the “Grave Flats Lookout Woman”.  I spent a lot of time up in the 360° glass cupola scanning with binoculars and a view finder for “smokes” (aka fire starts) and thinking about writing a book. I didn’t get very far with many new things to learn, distractions & ambitions. When the clouds finally cleared in May of 1992, the vistas were breathtaking!

Flashback thirty or so years.,.                                                                      There was a windy switchback style gravel road up the mountain to the front door of my cabin. Me, my woody wagon, and our large dog Spock🐕 settled in after the forest ranger escorting us up the mountain departed in the mist. The clouds had swallowed us, and it was getting spooky. Was I nervous? – yup. Was I excited? -yup. Was I scared? – nope, not admitting that. My five year old daughter would join me in a month, but in the meantime, I had a steep learning curve to climb. I figured being so far removed from civilization would afford me long stretches of uninterrupted time to read & write during inclement weather, but boy oh boy was I in for a surprise. I had almost daily visitors, plenty of whom knocked on my cabin door, and my idyllic image of time to myself was rapidly destroyed. That road was a bane and a blessing. I had access on and off the mountain, and was able to collect drinking water from a nearby spring, but so did all those intrepid explorers who dared knock on my door. But it was my job to be ambassador of the mountain, so I politely answered questions and smiled. I loved it all the same, and as I was about to find out, forest fires were the least of my worries that first summer at Grave Flats Lookout!

https://sonnybou.ca/ssbou2021/graveflatslookoutredcap.html

Back to 2024. I think the lookout cabin and full road access has been closed for quite some time. I watched a video of a motorbike rider dare to ride the abandoned Grave Flats Lookout road almost to above tree line, with a big gate suddenly stopping him. He hiked up the last bit and did a panorama of mountains. It hasn’t changed a bit!!!

To be continued next Monday…