Four Degrees Celsius

FOUR DEGREES CELSIUS

Kerry Karram

FOUR
DEGREES
CELSIUS

A Story of Arctic Peril

To Andrew, Victoria, and Mikaela

When you listen with your ears, you begin to hear.

When you listen with your mind, you begin to think.

But when you listen with your heart, you begin to care.

— EGH

• Foreword by Gord Emberley, CM9
  

• Acknowledgements
  
• Introduction
  
• Maps
  
• One
  - Leaving for the Barrens
  
• Two
  - Preparations for the Search
  
• Three
  - Grounded by Weather
  
• Four
  - Moving Northward
  
• Five
  - Crash of G-CASQ
  
• Six
  - Peril on Ice
  
• Seven
  - Arrival at Cambridge Bay
  
• Eight
  - Evacuation Planning
  
• Nine
  - Airborne to Fort Reliance
  
• Ten
  - Two More Planes Down
  
• Eleven
  - A Crowded Journey Home
  
• Epilogue
  
• Appendix
  - The People Involved
  
• Notes
  
• Bibliography
  
• About the Author
  

In the latter half of 1929 there was heightened public awareness in Canada's Far North of the disappearance of the MacAlpine party, a group of prospectors seeking to find rich mineral deposits in what was then the Northwest Territories, but is now Nunavut. They had departed Winnipeg in their fleet of aircraft on August 21 for Churchill, Manitoba, and arrived at Baker Lake on September 7. They left two days later for the Arctic coast and from this point on there was no further news of their whereabouts. It was after they were forced down that the MacAlpine party had to wait for rescue on the shore of the Arctic Ocean.

This would mark the start of one of the greatest aerial searches in Canadian history. It would test the endurance of both men and their machines in a hostile environment of summer and winter flying conditions. The accounts of the events that took place over the next three months are a tribute to members of the MacAlpine party, their “Eskimo Saviors,” and the pilots and engineers involved in the search. It would rivet the attention of other nations and become one of the epochal stories of Canadian aviation history. There have been other articles written on this event, but information has recently come to light that provides new insight into this story.

Every undertaking of this nature must have a leader in the field, and the person selected to be “chief pilot of the search”
[1]
was Andrew Cruickshank, a pilot for Western Canada Airways. As a former First World War pilot, Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer, a founder of the first Yukon airline, and a pilot with extensive northern flying experience, Andrew was the logical choice for such an undertaking. The conditions under which the search took place created horrendous logistical challenges for both men and their machines. Because of the close proximity to the magnetic North Pole their compasses were unreliable. There were incomplete maps for ground reference and no weather stations or radio communications for assistance. Flying by “dead reckoning” in adverse weather of fog and snow was a navigational challenge that presented formidable hazards to taking off and landing on unknown surfaces.

Andrew was a man with perseverance. His flying skill carried him through situations that would challenge a qualified “instrument-rated” pilot of today. In spite of the airplanes breaking through the ice, dealing with broken undercarriages caused by landings on rock hard snowdrifts, and flying basic aircraft of the time, he motivated his engineers to make remarkable repairs with whatever was at hand. His dedication to the mission never overshadowed his patience under stress or his respect for the resourcefulness of his engineers and pilots. On occasion they were forced to wait to be rescued from their downed or damaged airplanes, often in bitter cold weather, and with insufficient supplies.

This account is the manifestation of Andrew Cruickshank's concern and compassion for humanity. He was dedicated to his profession as a pilot and exhibited extraordinary northern flying skills. It is a story of heroism, set in a region of extremes.

Kerry Karram is the granddaughter of the late Andrew Cruickshank, who was killed in 1932 on a flight from Great Bear Lake to Fort Rae in the Northwest Territories. The title of this book, and the story it tells, might better be titled
Kerry's Journey
, for it has revealed to her, and members of the Cruickshank family, previously unknown events in her grandfather's past. Kerry diligently gathered information from many sources to write this story and pay homage to one of our great northern “bush” pilots. With the advent of the airplane, these were the people who were instrumental in opening the vast Canadian North.

Believe me, you won't want to put this gripping Canadian account of survival back on the shelf until you have read the last word.

Gord Emberley CM

Lac du Bonnet, Manitoba

It began in Yellowknife, at the Float Plane Fly-In, July 2007. I was with my son, Andrew, at the dedication of a bronze plaque to my grandfather Andrew David Cruickshank, commemorating his contribution to bush flying in Canada. At this event I met Gordon Emberley, a most delightful man who is dedicated to documenting and preserving Canada's aviation history. I posed a question to him: “Can you tell me about the Dominion Explorers expedition of 1929?”

With a smile, Gord answered, “A good start would be to read the diary of Richard Pearce, but you will never be able to find a copy of it.” My interest was ignited and the hunt was on. I did manage to find a copy of this incredible diary, a very rare published version, in a used bookstore in Sydney on Vancouver Island, of all places. I was enthralled and could talk of nothing else, it seemed, during that year.

My son Andrew quietly commented one day, “Mom, you need to write a book. This story deserves to be told. The spirit which Canadians are known for is encapsulated in this remarkable tale.” Thank you, Gord, for sparking my interest, and thank you Andrew for putting forth the idea and for having faith in me.

Throughout this adventure I have been supported and encouraged by many others. Marti Sevier, of Simon Fraser University, was my right hand. She has read multiple drafts of the manuscript and had clear, insightful comments and questions that spurred me to do further research. She “unblocked” my writer's block and came to the rescue time and again with a calming influence. What a joy to work with such an inspiring friend.

Murray Peterson, who works through the Manitoba Archives and the City of Winnipeg's Historical Building Committee, was my archival researcher and consultant extraordinaire. Thank you for unearthing such a plethora of information and for scanning many of the images contained in this book. I am forever grateful for your involvement.

Pam McKenzie, from Western Canada Aviation Museum, thank you for your assistance with archived photos. They make the story come alive.

I am also indebted to two enthusiastic supporters: Ulrich Lanius, who has encouraged me to “say what I want to say” and who gave me the confidence to pursue this project; and to David Pol, a big hug and thank you! And to Eleni Papavasiliou who came to the rescue in sorting out the PC/Mac issues, and helping out in other areas as well. Thank you.

David Stephens and Bryan Fitzpatrick, thank you for your help and encouragement in the early stages. Gordon Emberley, Clark Seaborn, and Rex Terpening assisted in unravelling the workings of the Fokker Super Universals for me. Thank you for your explanations and input in how to explain things correctly.

Thank you to Richard Pearce's daughter Margaret Hall and to grandson Rick Hall for chatting with me about the story. How exciting to get to know Richard Pearce's relatives … wow. And to Daryl Goodwin, thank you for allowing me to view and use your grandfather's photos.

Thank you, Barry Penhale, for your encouragement and efforts on my behalf. And Jane Gibson, my editor, thank you for being everything I thought an editor would be. You both played a tremendous role in bringing
Four Degrees Celsius
to print, and ensuring the integrity of the story was kept. Also, thank you Jennifer McKnight, my copy editor, for making sure every
i
was dotted and the manuscript was polished for print.

To Ed, Julie, David, and Christopher, thank you for the “thumbs up” and for your continued support.

Mom, thank you for keeping the boxes of family memories safe and for that very special phone call October 17, letting me know you “found it!” Your father's diary was a treasure kept for decades and gave us Andy's voice to tell the story. Auntie June, thank you for the keen interest you have shown in this book and for paving the way for me.

And finally, my deepest gratitude, as always, goes to my family. My husband Michael; children Andrew, Victoria, and Mikaela; and son-in-law Steve. You give my life meaning.

A few years ago an eighty-year-old diary surfaced from a box in a North Vancouver basement. This was pilot Andy Cruickshank's diary and log, documenting the search for the MacAlpine expedition of the Dominion Explorers during the fall of 1929. In terse, spare prose, Andy wrote, “The following is a copy of my diary while on the MacAlpine search. My idea in jotting down a few notes each day was really to enable me to reconstruct the whole story at any time. It is my intention to write such a story when I can find time to do so.” Unfortunately, timing was not on his side, and he never wrote the story as he intended. I have been able to research and locate many details related to the MacAlpine expedition, and I hope that this attempt to achieve his goal would have met with his satisfaction.

Andy Cruickshank, who led the search party, was my grandfather. As a child I would listen to my grandmother Esmé Cruickshank's tales of this adventure, all of which captivated my attention. Later, upon meeting other bush pilots, I realized that his story was one that I wanted to share.

Using Andy's diary in tandem with Richard Pearce's diary, the dramatic story unfolded. Pearce self-published his journal in 1931, in a very limited edition, for those who took part in the remarkable adventure of opening Canada's North for the development of its resources. The slim book, bound in burgundy fabric, was signed by Pearce himself, and although not handwritten, as is Andy's diary, it feels to me as if he, along with my grandfather, was giving permission for this extraordinary tale to be told.

But it was only when I began to research and learn more of the background of this search and rescue that I understood that it not only concerned a group of courageous men and women, but it also, in a very real way, reflected an important aspect of Canada's history that resonates to this day.

Maps of the 1920s were vague and sparse, often created by cartographers relying on second and third hand descriptions. Pilots learned to follow the rivers and lakes to help them determine their route. During winter in the North, when lakes and rivers were frozen, this method of “steering the course” was almost impossible. Radio support for navigation was non-existent and ground communication spotty. Cruickshank's search and rescue team flew along the route marked by the dotted line. What is so amazing is that their route almost matched the route flown by the Dominion Explorers. These early flights will go down in Canadian history as truly remarkable.

From Richard Pearce
, Marooned in the Arctic: The Diary of the MacAlpine Aerial Expedition,
1929
.

The current map shows, in detail, some of the rivers and lakes that likely both the MacAlpine party and Cruickshank's Search and Rescue group followed during their flights. Wholdaia Lake, at the northern Saskatchewan, Northwest Territories border, was the fuel depot transfer location. The search pilots then flew with fully loaded planes up the Wholdaia River over the chain of lakes to reach Dubawnt Lake, then westward to Baker Lake where the change over to skis was made. The flight from Baker Lake to Burnside River, roughly 400 miles (flying in a straight line) passes over a lake now named MacAlpine.

Map from
Canoeing North Into the Unknown
(Toronto: Natural Heritage Books, 1997), 100.