RICHARD ALLEN SCOTT - Through the Years

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RICHARD ALLEN SCOTT THROUGH THE YEARS Part of my responsibilities, other than fighting crime and/or evil was to (weekly) polish the office floors (paste wax and a polisher), and also the floor in my quarters, as well as wash the police car. Slave labour. In the summer of 1969, the Corporal left the RCMP (I wasn’t disappointed to see him leave)…and he wasn’t replaced until well over a month had passed. It was me, all alone, as the only law ‘in town’…actually our area was huge and stretched from just outside Yale, B.C. to almost Kanaka Bar, a north-south distance of about 75km. It also Inside the curved China Bar tunnel stretched east and west for some distance, into secluded mountain logging areas, which I didn’t get to see much of. Each night before I went to bed I drove the entire stretch to ensure that there were no landslides blocking the highway, or rocks on the road, or cars off the road. It was a tricky bit of highway and included 7 tunnels constructed from the spring of 1957 to 1964 as part of the Trans-Canada Highway project. The shortest tunnel is 187ft; the longest, however, is about 2,000ft) and is one of North America's longest. They are situated between Yale and Boston Bar. Had a particularly nasty tractor-trailer accident inside this tunnel one night. Closed the whole Trans-Canada highway for hours and hours. The spilled diesel on the road was like trying to walk on ice. Another particularly gory accident involved a motorcycle, riding down the highway on a dark, rainy night without a tail light. He was hit from behind by a car and the motorbike seat was buried in the front grill of the car. Bike rider – well, he was a mess…and very dead. As I lay sleeping in my cot (couldn’t call it a bed) one day, the Corporal woke me to go to the scene of a small, single-engine airplane crash just up the highway. Seems the pilot ran out of gas before he made it to the short, grass runway beside the highway. He hit the trees and destroyed his plane, and didn’t survive. 2 of the 7 highway tunnels - 2014 June 2017 97
RICHARD ALLEN SCOTT THROUGH THE YEARS This is the view coming out of one of the tunnels. Spectacular. With the sun setting over the mountains in late afternoon, we were pretty much in perpetual gloom, even more so when the weather was bad. Once again, I befriended one of the local restaurant owners and for $35 a month had my meals there. Many suppers of chicken-pot-pie and strawberry ice cream for dessert. Many were disturbed by calls though, so had a hot plate, toaster, and small fridge in my room to ‘tide me over’. While alone at the Detachment, I was scheduled for an inspection by the Section NCO. Well, it happened that during the rainy night before, a car had left the road and gone over the side into the canyon. A family was in it. Recovery efforts were lengthy, and the Section NCO, on his way up to see me happened across the accident scene and had to stay and help direct traffic while we pulled the wreck up. While on the scene, another vehicle came barreling around the corner, even though we had flares out, saw us, hit the brakes and skidded over the edge, barely missing me as I was standing behind the police car. Took all day and he never did get to do his inspection. As well as doing all the ‘police work’ I was responsible for the administration of the office, which meant monthly reports on every single activity in the office. And to top it off, and I’m not complaining, ‘cause it was company, the Highway Patrol boys from Hope would come up for part of shift a few times a week and conduct enforcement…that meant that when they were done, they’d drop off books and books of tickets for me to process (which meant a file folder and index card for each one, a ledger entry and a diary date entry so they could be tracked – a mean amount of work – all on a typewriter). In the summer of 1969, we had copious numbers of tourists to Hell’s Gate, now equipped with a cable car to the bottom. It was about a 500-foot sheer drop from the highway to the river below, and the only access to the fish ladders down there was a restricted gravel switch-back road that only Fisheries people and us could use. No guarantee though that a police car would make it back up the steep grade. Even though there was a fence to Old CN Rail ‘jigger’ prevent people from falling, they’d hop over and down they’d go. There was no end to the body count that summer. Had to recover the bodies by taking a railway ‘jigger’ along the tracks from Boston Bar. The CN passenger train stopped in Boston Bar to change crew. Often, I had to go onto the train to remove unruly passengers, travelling from Vancouver, as well us drunks off the Greyhound bus. June 2017 98
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RICHARD ALLEN SCOTT - Through the Years

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