Worst winter hunting trip ever
Note: My cousin, Maurice Soames, who was born and raised in Kelowna, moved with his parents, my dad’s sister, May (Tucker/Soames) Latta and her husband Harry Latta, to New Zealand in 1938.
Prior to Maurice’s passing, he wrote stories of his adventures and memories from his childhood growing up in Kelowna. Here is one of them Submitted by Dianne (nee Tucker) Fidler, (Wilfred Tucker’s daughter)
By MAURICE SOAMES (1917-1993)
“Approx. year 1936: Winter was on us in no uncertain manner, what with snow knee-high, where we lived on our orchard at the base of Black Mountain. The snow in the hills, where we intended to hunt deer, would be pretty deep now sending our ‘winter meals’ further down the slopes in search of grass or herbage that they could paw the snow away from.
“We got the call from ‘Pop’ (stepfather, Harry Latta) to say that the deer were getting quite plentiful up in the hills of Peachland. The next day saw us pack up the Model ‘A’ truck ready for our first hunting trip of the year.
“We picked up cousin Ray Tucker and Uncle Jack Tucker on the way to town. Ray was good when it came to supplies and work, and we always took him with us also because he had a ‘32 special.’ Man, it was some rifle; it had everything you could think of including a spinning front sight for three different types of light. Invariably Ray would get his ‘bag’ each year, a fact that the rest of us were all very envious. I might add, that, in those days there was a limit bag of two bucks a season for two years and the third year the bag would be two bucks and a doe.
“Early in the morning, we picked up Pop, Uncle Wilf Tucker (1912-1999), his brothers Colin (1917-1982), and Eddie (19081992) and took off to the wild blue yonder, across the lake by ferry and through Westbank to the high country.
“The first day was very uneventful, except that the road had become quite narrow with a few small drifts, to be cut through with shovels in order to get the truck and supplies through.
“We camped the first night under the cedars and tucked ourselves in snug as ‘Bears in Rugs.’ We were away by daylight next morning on what was to be a day we would never forget!
“We had gone ten or twelve miles into the upper hills where we came to a stretch that looked almost impossible to traverse. Pop, Jack and Wilf went ahead by foot for a bit of a scout and upon returning informed us of the risk involved in proceeding.
“There was one snowdrift about half a mile long, that the sun had partially thawed a day or two before, but it had since frozen again into a solid block.
“We thought it should have been hard enough to carry the weight of the truck and supplies, and with the use of ropes, we could inch our way across what was now a slope instead of a road. We had a good debate on the pros and cons as to whether to carry on or not then decided we had gone too far to turn back. We then got the ropes, axes and other gear needed to see us through this ordeal.
“So, with ropes tied to the truck and fortunately held by trees on the top side of the road, we began our torturous way, inch by inch, foot by foot until we came to the worst obstacle of the whole trip.
“There was a long drop on the downside of the road, except for a couple of logs and trees. Wilf and Jack stayed on the truck to keep some of the loose gear from slipping off while the rest of us, except Pop who was driving, stayed on the top side hanging on to the truck or the ropes for dear life.
“We had about fifty yards to go for moderate safety when one of the ropes snapped. Things happened too quickly so that I can’t quite recall in what order they came. I know there was a lot of scrambling and shouting for a minute or so.
“The truck slid sideways, snapped the remaining two thinner ropes as if they were string and went over the edge taking Pop, Wilf and Jack with it.
“It did a somersault and very fortunately came to a dead halt hard against the only tree there, a few feet from the three-hundred-foot drop. What a mess, baggage, boxes, guns and blankets were strewn all over the hill.
“We stood staring at the wreckage, and it was then that someone missed Wilf. There were a few minutes of near panic while we all searched and called for him.
“Finally, Pop pulled at the tarp and gave the yell, ‘Here he is.’ Naturally enough, we were all very relieved to find he was alright. Pop wasn’t too pleased at Wilf for not having answered when we were all calling him, and Wilf’s answer was one I’ll never forget as long as I live. ‘When the truck rolled over, I got messed up with all the bedding, boxes etc. and when everything stopped moving, I opened my eyes and everything was black, so I lay quiet, because I thought I was unconscious!’
“It took us two days to get back on the road and head toward home. Would you believe Ray and his lucky ’32 Special’ copped a couple of beauties (bucks) only a few miles from Westbank?”