British Columbia almost sank its own submarine navy
They were known as CC-class submarines, built by a Seattle shipyard in 1913 as coastal defence vessels for the Chilean navy. But the deal fell through and, with the outbreak of the First World War in August 1914, B.C. Premier Richard McBride jumped at the chance to purchase the two of them—as a gift!—for the infant Royal Canadian Navy. At a cost of $575,000 each, they were duly commissioned, according to Wikipedia, the Free Encyclopedia, as HMCS CC-1 and HMCS CC-2, and became the first Canadian naval ships to transit the Panama Canal during an eventful voyage to their new posting in Halifax. (For trivia lovers, they were: 144 feet (44m) long; weighed 313 long tons surfaced, 373 long tons submerged; powered by a 6-cylinder gasoline engine (on the surface), battery-powered underwater; had a top speed of 13 knots and...
Read MoreJohn Fannin ‘Fathered’ Royal British Columbia Museum
John ‘Jack’ Fannin is one of the few of our bigger-than-life pioneers who has been immortalized, although this may be about to change. The first curator and virtual creator of the Royal British Columbia Provincial Museum, John Fannin was more than a remarkable public servant. Few who knew the stocky, white-bearded figure with the braying laugh and twinkling eyes realized that–not once but twice–he’d survived a hostile wilderness. In October 1874 Jack and George Florrence, a French Canadian, were commissioned by the B.C. government to explore the headwaters of the Stikine River for evidence of gold. Four harrowing months later they staggered, near death, into Wrangell, Alaska where they gave a breathtaking account of their ordeal. Twice turned back by ice when they’d attempted canoeing upriver, they decided to await freeze-up and set out on foot. On December 5th they...
Read MoreBill Nye: Victoria’s Mystery Man
His real name was Thomas Chaplain but to generations of Victorians the remarkable character with the scraggly beard, ‘antedeluvian’ slouch hat, shabby overcoat and trousers tied with twine was ‘Bill Nye.’ A final touch, a gold earring gave him a distinct Long John Silver air. As a young man Bill had seen, over a nine-year period, much of the world from the deck and masts of a windjammer, before landing in Victoria in November 1892. A longshoreman for many years, he never lost his interest in the sea. Right up until his death at 90-odd years, he’d delighted in amazing listeners with his near-photographic memory. He could recall every ship he’d sailed on, their cargoes, dates of departure, the names of officers and crewmen. Not only that, he remembered the first arrival dates and manifests of every liner that...
Read MoreMinnie Paterson, my other illustrious namesake
The 169-foot San Francisco bark Coloma drifted, a helpless punching bag before the sou’easter, each 90-mile-an-hour gust jarring her to her keel and pounding the 850-ton ship beneath the waves. She was awash, her lifeboats gone, a spider web of collapsed rigging spilled over her sides. Clutching the stump of mizzenmast were 10 frightened men. Captain J. Allison had long given up hope. In the raging dawn of December 6, 1906 the sea and sky met in a jagged grey line, offering little chance that their tattered ensign flying upside down in the international distress signal would be spotted. Then, poking through the murk like an eerie yellow finger was Cape Beale light, marking the entrance to Barkley Sound. From its height of 51 metres its beam cast a slim ray of hope for the 10 frightened who eyed...
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