1944-1945 Year Book - the Gatineau Valley Historical Society

62 Ottawa Ski Club Year Book 1944-45
fast slopes, including the well
known Birch Valley, traverses
the flat expanse of Radmore's
clearing, re-enters the bush in
search of more tricky slopes
which it manages to find, and
comes out on the smiling but unsheltered
plains of Wrightville
after a long flight of bumps. Experienced
skiers never allow
themselves to be caught by darkness
on the Pink Lake Trail.
Standing in a lovely glen,
carpeted with junipers and
framed with stately pines, the
Pine Lake lodge, near the little
lake of that nam€, invites the
weary traveler to rest and
quench his thirst. Water is kept
boiling there at all times in a
hug,e boiler, and tea pots are
available. Ther€ are also fairly
steep hills around there, but few
stop to try ·them because there
are still five miles to cover to
get to the end of the trail.
Pink Lake lodge had long
been a bone of contention. Its
building was strongly opposed at
first, some contending that the
Dome Hill Lodge could be used
for a rest station, if a short way
to it could be found; others that
the Hull bus or street car service
would surely extend along
the Mountain Road before long,
and in that case, no one would ·
stop at the lodge. because the·
road runs parallel to tlie trail,
and onJy half a mile from it. A
short and interesting way to
Dome Hill never was found; the
car line is just as far to-day
from Pink Lake as it was twenty
years ago. So the lodge has always
been used more or less
through the years, more in times
of depression than in times of
prosperity~ and a great deal
more in times of tire and gas
shortage like the present. At
first, before the bus came to
Chelsea, the Wrightville hikers
included 80 per cent of the Club
membership, and later only 20
per cent, but as the membership
went up from a few hundred to
well over 2,000, the number of
Pink Lake visitors remained
substantially the same, from
300 to 400 every good week-end.
The lodge however was sadly
neglected, because Camp Fortune
took all the surplus funds
of the Club. During the twenty
years of its existenc·e, the only
care given to it was a coat of
dirty green stain, making it look
like a green-eyed! monster.
Weather beaten and dilapidated
after twenty years of neglect,
its floor burnt through in spots,
and rising and falling like the
waves of the sea, its roof leaking,
its rough seats and tables
being minus huge chunks, hacked
out for kindling by vandals,
it was indeed', until this year, in
a pitiful condition, an object of
repulsion more than attraction,
entirely out of keeping with its
marvelous surroundings.
Then came Elmer Cassel,
Night Rider and Patrolman Extraordinary,
who by some lucky
stroke, was placed in charge of
patrol operations on the Wright­
ITille trail. His task was to attend
to the casualties, whether
broken bones or broken skis,
urge the stragglers on by stressing
the danger of lagging on a
trail overrun after dark with
dynosaurs and snow snakes
and put them on the road if they
could' no ranger shuffle their
skis forward. His duty called
for one trip down from Camp
Fortune at the close of the day,