This is part two of four seasonal stories which will be submitted to Crown Jewels over the next year. They are based on true experiences that have occurred to the writer during the past ten years.

It had been a long, cold winter and I was eager to get back out searching for those CD-143's to add to my collection. Every week I was monitoring the depth of snow in town trying to guess when it would be reasonable to try and go out. The melting snows cause a problem with high water levels, so that many of the old telegraph poles are submerged or ones still standing are surrounded with fairly deep ice cold water. By early April, what with spring rains to compound the problem, I had to chance a trip anyway. The spot I chose was an area about 125 miles east, where the winding railway line hugs the Precambrian rock edge before it plunges into Lake Superior. The rail bed is so narrow that the old telegraph line actually ran overland in many spots, rather than parallel the rails due to space limitations. Because of the irregular terrain, I hoped the water runoff would be nearly complete in this area.

Again filling my back pack with essentials for the trip as I have done so many times in the past and filling the car's tank with gas and ensuring I leave map co-ordinates of my search location at home, I am ready for an early start the next morning. The weatherman has been promising clear, sunny skies and unseasonably mild temperatures for the weekend.

Up by 7 a.m., a light breakfast and finally I am on the road again. I'm probably dressed too warm but a cold wind usually blows off the lake. The maps show an old bush or railway service road ending right at the tracks and it's this road I try and locate several hours later. This so called road is finally found but it would make an all terrain vehicle hesitate much less my old Chevy wagon. Caution is the better part of valor on such roads, so I decide to park off the highway and walk in. Alternating between slushy snow drifts and ground soft with mud, I follow this road as the still barren overgrowth turns it into a mere trail. Just as the path almost completely fades out, I see the raised railway bed ahead. Once up on the tracks I have a view of an immense Lake Superior of rich navy blue water covered with glistening white ice pads. Sea gulls screech as they hunt for a meal of fresh fish.

And so the search is on, as I walk west between the rails half of me is oblivious to all but the sun, fresh air, and a feeling of euphoria on an early spring day. The other half searches the ditches for downed poles and a hint of glass. The spring sun has melted all but the larger snow drifts. Last year’s ground cover has been flattened over the winter, and the remnants of pole stumps can be seen protruding about 6 inches above the ground. After several miles of enjoying the hike but seeing little in the way of insulators, I take a rest break and consult my map. It indicates ever increasing rugged terrain ahead and numerous railway tunnels. This is what I am looking for -- a section remote from the railway track where the telegraph lines were forced to go over the mountain. It is so comfortable sitting on the sunny rock over looking the lake by some 100 feet that I must force myself to continue.

Ahead, cliff faces towering several hundred feet above the rail bed can be seen. In many spots the rails snake through tunnels blasted out of solid rock. It is here that the telegraph lines climbed the mountain, and I slowly follow the ever increasing grade with frequent rest breaks. As hoped, when the poles were cut down no one bothered to carry them down for disposal. Each wood pole is heavily weathered and beginning to rot where it lies. With two crossarms per pole, and about six insulators per arm, there is much glass to check. Unfortunately, most of the insulators are heavily damaged but not all. The insulators comprise U-1131's, CD-154 and 155's, a few CD-145's, and my CD-143's. Other than the white porcelain pieces, the 143's are easy to spot as they have the most color. Colors found are the aquas, blues, greens, yellow-greens, and the odd purple and sun-colored amethyst. Finally the plateau is reached and it's reasonably level walking for awhile. It is here that I find my first real keeper insulator of the day; a very near mint Montreal Telegraph Co. in a medium green. It sits on the crossarm, supported from the rocky ground by a long ago fallen tree trunk. I am delighted at the find and take the time to rest and admire the piece. I don't understand why there is only one green among dozens of aqua and blue Montreal Telegraphs along this section. Maybe at one time there were more.

It is now 1:00 p.m. and I work my way down the far side of the mountain. About 300 feet below I can again see the silver rails shining in the sun. Over boulders and down ledges, I make the base with only a few bruises. Continuing along the tracks, with frequent trips into the ditches, the search progresses mile after mile. Unfortunately, I was spending so much time in the ditches, I failed to notice what was walking along the tracks about 100 feet from me. Two young black bears also out for a stroll. All three of us came to an abrupt halt, they with noses in the air and me with eyes wide. Now here I did a foolish thing; I picked up a small stone and threw it in their direction so I could continue. Little did I know that they would run crying like babies into the ditch looking for mom. I quickly put a 1/4 mile between the cubs and me and commenced the return trip early.

Even though I am tired, it was an invigorating walk with bright sun and a cool breeze. Not far from the trail where I must return, I spot a pile of crossarms at the brush line. No poles or insulators, just arms. I tramp around in ever increasing circles but find nothing until about 30 feet from the arms a hint of blue glass is seen amongst the flat, dead grass. It is almost fully buried in the ground but pulls out easily to reveal a CD 136.4 Canadian Boston. A nearby puddle cleans it up to expose a dark blue specimen full of heavy milk swirls. The green Montreal was a super main course, and this makes a fitting dessert.

Down the trail, through much more mud and back to the car. It has been a great day, all in all, and I am fully satisfied. When I can come home with even one insulator for the collection or trade, it is worth it. As I drive home, I am thinking, "where will I go next week?"