Vietor said:
Thanks. They seem to be caught between a hunter - gatherer age and the 21st century; no place to go, no way out. A very depressing (emotionally and economically) juxtaposition between a way of life that no longer works and those of us who are "sportsmen", bringing in our $1000's of equipment, paying more for 5 days of fishing than their annual per capita earnings.
Yes, your comment is perfectly acurate (to me anyway). This discussion made me recall an experience that might relate. In my youth I was working on the gas pipeline in Northern Alberta as an apprentice pipe fitter. One night buddy and I drove the 60 miles into Slave Lake for a few beers in minus 35 degree (F) to the largest hotel in the community, the ‘white bar', a place then called The Algonquin. The intel had been “ The A” was a safe place to go, whereas the ‘Indian bar’ in downtown Slave, (The Pen) was considered life threatening to us
white guys (said while clenching teeth for proper dialect).
The place was huge and jammed with patrons. We grabbed a table on the perimeter of the big open room right next to the entrance door. There were some pool tables in the centre of the bar. In the otherwise dim smoky atmosphere the bright overhead lights of the tables combined with a domed 35 ft ceiling made the area stand out like a well lit showcase. Within a few minutes a ruckus occurred at the tables.
There was a big cowboy fella, standing about 6’6’+ his cowboy boots, dressed in a light-blue outfit like Gene Autrey, with the ten gallon white Stetson and complete with the dangling frays on his sleeves. To me he appeared even at some distance like a giant of a man, way larger than life. He was probably a rig driller. An argument occurred between the cowboy giant and some other player. The big cowboy was staggering drunk. He jumped up on pool table, beer in hand, and began to kick the pool balls, like a punter, one by one, taking his sweet time. Every 30 seconds another billiard ball would fly across the room in some random direction at the speed and force of a solidly hit line drive and crash off the furniture. Then after a pause and a swig of beer, he’d line-drive-kick another ball.
A remarkable thing was how the rest of the room reacted - they paid no attention whatsoever except to shift a bit in their chairs if a ball came whistling by close enough for concern. Waitresses delivered trays of beer. People talked, drank, laughed at each other’s jokes, situation normal. The cowboy’s woman sitting nearby, “a squaw” as she was referred to, came staggering over to the table, herself equally intoxicated. She grabbed at his pant leg in an effort to pull him down. He turned, cursing and kicked her full in the face. With blood leaking down onto her white sweater, she went for him again. Had I been in her place receiving that kick in the chops, I would have surely been out cold on the floor. She came back for more.
Meanwhile, I became aware of the presence of two young RCMP officers standing behind me, just inside the bar doors. The bar keeper had probably called them. I watched them off-and-on for the moments I could tear my eyes away from the incredible thing I was witnessing. They were calm, but seemed little apprehensive. They remained motionless, watching. About 2 more kicks to the head and the woman slumped back into her chair, blood soaking her white sweater thick red.
After what seemed like a very long time the cowboy ran out of billiard balls and finally just stood there swaying on the table top. Finally the RCMP officers approached the table, where upon the man climbed down, and went away with them peacefully. There was no violence, no guns drawn, no handcuffs, just two officers escorting the drunken cowboy away for the evening, each officer with a hand firmly on one of the cowboy’s arms. The dazed and bloody woman was helped to her feet by two of her nearby girlfriends, and taken away somewhere.
For me it was a very bizarre scene that I would imagine seeing only in a movie. For the locals, it was probably just another evening at the bar. It was one of many lessons I was to learn about the Canadian north, demonstating it’s own unique ways as a culture that stands well apart from the rest of Canadian society.