Sunday 27 March 2022

Fort Rae (Behchokǫ̀) 1956


We spent the summer of 1956 in Fort Rae. We were expecting our “holiday” to Winnipeg and Verigin to visit family that year, but Mr. Doug Stevens and his family in Fort Rae were overdue for their family trip “outside”. I’m unsure what got discussed in the negotiations, but there must have been a flurry of wires (telegrams) to and from the HBCo Northern Stores Division office in Edmonton. Mike ended up “relieving” Mr. Stevens’ post from June until September while a significant extension was added to our house in Fort Providence including a bathroom with a tub (but no flush toilet) and plumbing in the kitchen. I was an unhappy 8-year-old about postponing our trip though, at least until we got to Fort Rae. It was my first experience playing on the rocks of the Canadian Shield, and living by a lake instead of the dangerous Mackenzie River. We had a wonderful summer in Fort Rae. We overlapped with the Stevens family (Ann and Doug Stevens with their three children Mike, Ceci and Chris) for a few days to familiarize with the routines of their house and 16-year-old Springer Spaniel, Chester. Mike and Mr. Stevens reviewed the books and operational details – the previous winter’s fur still had to be shipped and the store’s merchandise for the next year would arrive by barge before Mr. Stevens returned. And Mike learned how to run the boat. The three Stevens children helped orient my sister and I too, including where to swim in the channel below the house. The water was wonderful, although my inability to swim nearly caused my demise when I let go of an air mattress and Mike Stevens had to pull me out. It was only six feet to shore, but I couldn’t touch bottom and floundered. Thank you Mike, wherever you are. 

Fort Rae in 1952, as we would have seen it flying in from Fort Providence.
Photo from NWT Archives.

Fort Rae is on a series of rocky islands on the east shore of Marian Lake, which is connected to the North Arm of Great Slave Lake by Frank Channel. At the time we were there the lake around the settlement was contaminated with waste. We got our household water by boat far from the shore. Swimming in the channels had occasional unpleasant surprises. 

Behchokǫ̀ in 2020

Bay Island in 2020
The HBCo store building was expanded after 1956.  
The Faraud Hospital was closed in 1974 and the building removed.

Our house, with my sister Tania, the Stevens' dog Chester, and Mom. 

The house in August 2022 has the same picket fence, 66 years later!


The HBCo buildings - our house, a small warehouse, the store, the lighting plant, and another two warehouses. 

The HBCo buildings - a warehouse from the original fort, our house, the lighting plant, fuel storage, warehouse, and store. Another original building is behind the store.
Mr. Stevens was a ham radio enthusiast with a license for two-way voice communication - the three tall poles with braces support his antennae wires. 
Photo from Father Amourous' St. Michael's Parish gallery.

Looking East from our house, with the lighting plant, fuel storage and old warehouse. The building in the centre above the canoe is the schoolhouse that I attended for a few weeks after we arrived in June. At the end of each day we lined up for one hardtack biscuit.

The old warehouse, St. Michael's Parish church, and the causeway over the channel.
The Faraud Hospital is on the right behind Mr. Stevens' antenna pole.

HBCo store, 1949
Photo from NWT Archives.

HBCo store in 1974 after the expansion.
Photo from NWT Archives.

Abandoned store building in August 2022.

The priests' rectory, and construction of a new building which I think was to be a school. Earlier there was dynamite blasting for the foundation which was exciting as rocks flew everywhere.

Looking West from the rocks behind our house. I have a scar on my knee from falling on these rocks.

Marian Lake

RCMP warehouse and living quarters.

Faraud Hospital and RCMP buildings. The hospital was built in 1936 and expanded sometime later (note roofline and windows on the East side), and closed in 1974. 


The HBCo ran a fleet of boats and barges throughout the North. Here I'm on the Hearne Lake, a 72hp diesel tug that was assembled and launched in Fort Smith in 1934 and ran until shortly after this photo was taken.  

We met the barge in Frank Channel with a smaller barge that was pushed and towed across Marian Lake with motorized canoes and dories.  

Empty 45-gallon drums are being loaded onto the Hearne Lake barge to be returned to Norman Wells. The HBCo barges were distinctive in design and brown colour.
The entire HBCo's fleet was sold to NTCL within the next year. 

A doctor from the Faraud Hospital. I can't remember her name, if any reader can identify who this is please make a comment or email me...

A beauty of a lake trout. The abrasion on its side give away that it was NOT caught on this fishing gear, but in a net... There were always lots of fish around town - whitefish, trout and jackfish (pike). The Eliason girls and I would squeeze roe out of whitefish and cook it over a fire by the lake - caviar!

Later in the summer a group of caribou hunters were late returning from a trip to the barren-grounds, and an airplane search was organized. They returned safely after the failed search. Mike joined the search as another set of eyes and took the following three photos.

Ozzie Eliason, Fish and Wildlife officer, in a De Havilland Beaver, possibly a DHC-2 Mk 1.

Somewhere North of Great Slave Lake. I've searched Google Earth for this location, but no luck...

This is not the lost hunting party.

Bird hunting with Chester and Butch. I can't identify the man.

The same man with Butch and Chester, firing a pistol at ... what? 
Butch was a Cocker Spaniel that Mike bought from a guy on a barge.

Fall colours

Ernie Goltman, an HBCo clerk who grew up in Africa. He told wonderful stories to my sister and I about lions, hyenas, rhinoceroses, and other scary stuff.

The Northmart store in Behchokǫ̀ in 2020.
The HBCo no longer operates stores in the North. In 1987 a group of investors, including 415 employees, purchased the Northern Stores Division and three years later adopted "The North West Company" as their formal name.  

Fort Rae has changed a lot in the 65 years since our summer there. The local Dogrib people now call themselves the Tłı̨chǫ. They are a vibrant tribe of about 3,000 living in four communities – Behchokǫ̀ (Rae-Edzo), Gamètì (Rae Lakes), Whatì (Lac La Martre) and Wekweètì (Snare River) – in the rocky boreal forest between Great Slave Lake and Great Bear Lake. The Tłı̨chǫ Government has complete authority within the 39,000 km² of land that they own under the Tłı̨chǫ Agreement proclaimed by Parliament in 2005. This includes managing all renewable and non-renewable resources, planning land use, making and enforcing laws, and protecting and harvesting fish and wildlife. See the Tłı̨chǫ website.

This successful community is a far cry from that described in the 1955 MacLean’s magazine article When the Dogribs get their Treaty Money which is, I have to admit, reflective of the then prevalent negative attitude of most Canadians towards the Tłı̨chǫ, and indeed all indigenous peoples at that time. I find particularly poignant the refusal of the chief, Jimmy Bruneau, to accept treaty money until the Crown dropped criminal charges of possessing a beaver that was shot without a license – it is clear now that he was within his rights under Treaty 11 to hunt and trap as he pleased. The Behchokǫ̀ community’s unanimous support for him was evidence of their social coherence, and their understanding of the treaty violation.  

Tea Dance on Treaty day, June 1955, with Father Jean Amourous participating.
Photo from NWT Archives.

The Treaty 11 government negotiating party blitzed through all the MacKenzie settlements in the summer of 1921, intent on getting signatures at any cost since oil had been discovered at Norman Wells. Promises were made, but not written. Hunting rights dominated negotiations as the Dene were well aware of the hardships experienced by those south of Great Slave Lake since they signed Treaty 8 in 1899. In Fort Rae Chief Monfwi pressed the treaty commission to draw out a boundary within which his people’s rights would never be infringed upon. This was done, but a copy of that promise never arrived in Ottawa. “We made an agreement, but land was never mentioned,” recalled Jimmy Bruneau, who was present at the treaty talks and was Monfwi’s successor as Tłı̨chǫ chief. “A person must be crazy to accept five dollars to give up his land.” Read this article from Up Here for a synopsis of the North's relationship with Canada.

This photo intrigues me - the woman's expression,
the beautiful marten (or is it a mink?),
the long-spring steel trap,
the bloody mouth...
Photo from Father Amourous' St. Michael's Parish gallery.

In my research on the Tłı̨chǫ I ran across a wonderful and respectful article by Roger Brunt on his time in Behchokǫ̀ in the early 1970's - see Remembering the Guns of Fort Rae

Thank you for reading this. Please comment or email me with any suggestions or corrections. 

And be kind. Be calm. Be safe.








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