Logistical whiz kid

I had the privilege of working with Talis Kalnins on several mineral exploration projects throughout British Columbia, the Yukon and the Northwest Territories, prior to his long career with the B.C. Ministry of Energy, Mines and Petroleum Resources. It was in the late 1960s and early ’70s, dur- ing the onset of widespread helicopter- supported work by exploration companies in western and northern Canada.

Those years marked the end of pack-horse mobilized field parties, though it would be while before the advent of Gore-Tex and satellite telecommunications.

Base camps were flown into remote sights by small, single-engine planes in June. These camps received mail and groceries once a week, and everyone had to wait until rainy days to wash their clothes. There were no holidays until September.

For three years, Kalnins was our party chief for northern B.C. In addition to his geological duties, he was responsible for at least a dozen people, including geologists, students, prospectors, cooks, drillers and helicopter pilots.

Kalnins was a strong and quiet leader and would never ask anyone to do something he was not willing to do himself.

Base camps were moved frequently by air, and the comforts of home were restricted to what could be cobbled together with two-by-fours and spruce poles. At one site, Kalnins improvised a makeshift, wood-fired sauna that provided hot steam after a cold plunge at the end of the day. Indeed, the native of Riga, Latvia, can be said to have reduced moving to a fine art. One example of his ingenuity was mounting handles on the sides of our battered kerosene refrigerator for easy lifting in and out of floatplanes.

In July 1970, Kalnins and I were on a long helicopter flight when we experienced a forced landing at Frog River in northern B.C. When the helicopter came down, the impact caused the main rotor to sag, and this, in turn, chopped off the tail boom, causing our flight to be cancelled.

No one was injured, but we were 100 miles from anywhere. We assessed the situation, erected a shelter, and rolled out our sleeping bags. Fortunately, there was a cache of canned food at a nearby campsite. After breaking into the cache and cooking some supper, Kalnins exclaimed “I feel just like a bear!”

Sadly, that “bear” passed away recently, and he will certainly be missed.

— The author, a mining engineer, resides in Gibsons, B.C.