The only way I could keep up walking with father was when he'd light his pipe. He was always ahead of me, a real fast walker on snowshoes. Then he'd stop and he'd light his pipe. I'd catch up with him, but not in time to have a spell.

I would hope he'd light his pipe again!

Tilts were just logs, trees squared on the inside. We took the axe and squared them up. That would make it lighter inside. Outside, the bark was still on it. Sometimes the roof was moss. If you were in a place where you could get good birch bark, you'd use that to keep the roof tight.

We had a log bed with brush on top of it. Father never used a sleeping bag in his life. He never covered up in his life, not even in tent. He used a caribou skin and a blanket to lie on, that's all. And his clothes. You didn't see too many people like that.

He kept a fire going all night. Father would wake up when the fire was almost out, put more wood in, and light his pipe. Then he'd lie down and sleep while the fire was going. He had a routine there that he would do all night.