It was the summer of ’78 that we
hiked the Canadian Rockies up near Jasper National Park. There were six guys:
Ken Badley and his nephew, a friend of Ken’s and his little brother and my son
Rod and I. The three boys were all around eleven-years-old. The other two men
had done a lot of hiking, but this was a first for Rod and I.
We took two cars and parked mine
at the end of the trail and took Ken’s to the start. We register our hike with
the RCMP just incase something. Della and Rhonda went to Red Deer with her.
The weather for the entire trip
was terrific. Nice bright days and no rain. Mornings were chilly and the days
were hot. We divided up the equipment and supplies with each of us packing a
portion including the boys. We planned to camp for three nights. Each pair had
their own pup tent. We ate well, enjoyed all the scenery and kept hoping for
more wild life. Saw almost no animals. It was the third day when two of the
boys rushed on ahead.
We caught up with the rest at what
appeared to be a clearing. We saw
to two young boys on what appeared to be a snow slope screaming for help. It
wasn’t, it was all ice and there were rocks and fallen limbs at the bottom of
the slide. If the boys slipped any further it appeared unlikely they would be
able to stop when they reached the bottom.
Ken and his friend were yelling at
them to stay put and not move and they would come and get them. They took ice
picks to cut footholds to get out to them. Thee were out about 20 feet.
Rod and I sat on a log watching
and praying as the scene developed. It took close to two hours to slowly hack
their way out and back with the boys. They were frightened and their rescuers
exhausted so we stopped early for our last night of camping.
We reached trails end early the
next morning and found a note on my car from the RCMP asking me to contact them
as soon as possible. We all knew something was wrong. The note simply said, “Call
your wife.” My father had passed away and the funeral was the next day. Mom
wanted me there. I told Della to call and book the last flight out of Calgary
to Denver on to Omaha hoping to get there that same night. The only clothes I
had were for the hike.
Rod and I took the others to their
car and left immediately for Red Deer, Alberta. We quickly went to Eaton’s to
get me a suit; shirt, tie and shoes then drove directly to the airport to catch
my flight. I called my brother David from the airport to let him know the
flight arrangements.
I don’t know how we did
everything, but I made the connection and got to Denver in time for the
connecting flight then the delays began. We boarded the to flight to Omaha and
waited and waited and waited. Nearly two hours later the flight was canceled.
Equipment failure, whatever that was. I tried to arrange the first flight Saturday
to Omaha hoping I would get there before the funeral. It was not possible. I
let David know and told him I would come anyway to be with mom and the family,
Continental Airlines put me up in
a nearby hotel. Early Saturday morning they called my room to say they had put
on a special early flight and the bus would be at the hotel to pick me up in 30
minutes. I never took a faster shower, dressed for the funeral and called David
to say I would arrive (if all went well)
Just as the funeral was scheduled to begin. Dave said he would meet me and we
would go straight to the funeral.
Dave was there with his car at the
curb so we could get out quickly. I remember walking out of the airport into
the Omaha summer heat and instantly being dripping wet. My suit was sopping and
we were off. Dave was flying low. Mom would not begin the funeral until I
arrived. Yes, I was embarrassed to have all eyes staring as I walked in late —
but I was there.
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