Calamity Curve
Calamity Curve
Thomas and Susannah Smith
By Thomas Smith
I was born in Rebel stoke on April 22nd, 1932. My parents, Thomas and Susanna Smith came to Canada from Bedlington in the north of England in 1926. My father first worked for the CPR at Malaga. Immediately after I was born, he was moved to Calamity curve as track watchman. It was necessary to have a watchman at Calamity because of two rock slide areas to the east of our house where the eastern portal of Calamity Tunnel now is.
Calamity Curve got its name in the early 1900s when a train left the track, and plunged down the embankment into the Columbia River. I remember in the summers when the river was low and clear you could see wheels and axles in the depths, and near the house on the river’s edge where the remains of boxed car chassis.
The years spent at Calamity sometimes seemed lonely but there were compensations. The nearest neighbours were two and a half miles to the east at Redgrave or at Beavermouth 4 ½ miles to the West. In the summers my parents took me as often as possible to Beavermouth for a few hours of play with the children there among whom were the Dorian family and Nina Unwin.
My education was mainly by correspondence course, though for a short time I was able to attend Beavermouth School and also for a little while stay with my aunt and go to Moberly School.
In those days we saw a lot of wildlife bears in summer, deer in winter. One very severe winter I remember fodder being dropped off the trains for the deer. In winter on the bluff on the other side of the river you could often see 30 or 40 deer. In summer the bears were never far away. One evening while we were having supper, a large bear came and looked at us through the screen door. My hair stood on end. Father stood up, clapped his hands and shouted. The bear grunted and ambled off across the garden and up the hillside, leaving its paw prints in the flower beds. Father quickly slammed the heavy inner door firmly shut.
One of the most exciting things that could happen at Calamity was a rock slide, especially if it meant that a passenger train was held up outside our front door. People would then get off and walk around the curve to watch clearing operations. Others would wander round the garden and talk to us.
My parents created the garden from nothing. Two or three years they carried soil from the hillside to the West, for flower beds and vegetable plots it was worth it. They won the divisional first garden prize on two or three occasions. Sad to think it is no more. When I looked down on the site 10 years ago from the logging road on the opposite side of the river there was nothing but sand and silt, though the skeletons of the trees to which my father fixed our wireless aerial remained.
Except when a rock slide held up a train outside our door we did not see many people. The roadmaster or the track gang from Redgrave were almost all we would see. Almost all, there were surprises. Occasionally there were people walking the tracks – no Trans Canada Highway then – they might be hobos or they might not.
One summer afternoon mother opened the door to answer a knock. There stood a man in his 30s with a little girl of about 10. “Can you spare something to eat at least for my girl,” he asked. Mother looked at the girl who seemed dead on her feet. She invited them in and told them to sit down and rest while she went about making a meal. While they ate mother asked where they were going. “Vancouver” was the reply “but that’s 400 miles away said mother.”
“I know” he replied and explained that he was from Regina and unemployed. Through a relative he had the offer of a job in Vancouver and could not afford the train fare for all the family so he had sent his wife and baby on the train while he and the girl walked. The meal over, the man said “we best be going I’d like to get a bit further tonight.” Mother looked at the girl and said “she’s not going anywhere she’s going to bed.”
Next morning after a hearty breakfast they were ready to set off. But not quite. Mother decided the girl was not clad or shod for walking the track. Found a pair of fairly new but stout shoes that fit her but had been a mistake for mother, together with them were a jacket and sweater and she was ready for the road. With many thanks they set off. I hope they reached Vancouver safely.
On another occasion we had just arrived back from Vancouver when there was a knock at the door. Opened it and was a bit taken aback to find about 15 young people standing there. Spokesman said “Mr. can you spare something to eat. We’re starving.” University students on vacation walking the track through the mountains for something different to do. Mother and father scratched their heads. We just got home mother had not had time to bake and there was no bread. Meaning the bread situation father produced a large enamel dish and went into the garden where he gathered lettuces carrots radishes spring onions and whatever else was ready, brought them in, washed them, added salt, pepper and mayonnaise, and presented them with the biggest salad I have ever seen.
On a third occasion I was playing with my train set when there was a knock. When mother answered I heard a voice inquire whether it would be possible to have a cup of tea. Different, I thought. Voice was cultured different from what we usually heard at Calamity. Two people, man and wife, not the sort you usually found walking the track. Came in and sat down. “Nice train you’ve got there.” said the man. “It’s broken, springs gone or something,” I replied. “It won’t wind up,” he said can I have a look. I gave him the stricken engine, he peered at the works, and after a few moments declared that it was repairable, and looking at my father said “I’ll fix it for the boy if you can lend me some tools.” Father provided what was needed and soon, between sips of tea and bites of cake my beloved engine was in pieces while I wondered if he could put it together again. I need not have worried. Less than an hour it was running beautifully. Visitor was in fact a professor of engineering from the University of British Columbia. He and his wife were spending their vacation, like the students who ate the huge salad, walking the track for something different to do.
While the men were attending to my clock where locomotive, the ladies were swapping recipes and examining my mother’s new wood stove. After about two hours we were sorry to see them go. This note though we had known them for a long time.