Odds ‘n’ sods: The Toodoggone River Tube Race of 1981

VANCOUVER — On July 31, 1981, nearly 200 geologists and support crews stood speechless along the gravel banks of the remote Toodoggone River in north-central B.C., as a helicopter landed before them alongside the frigid, glacial-fed water.

At a distance, many of the onlookers seemed dressed in what’s endearingly known as the “Prince George Dinner Suit” — a plaid woollen jacket once popular among bush-folk of the province’s interior — and grounded by heavy, laced hiking boots.

It was nearing the start time of the first annual Toodoggone River Tube race — a mid-summer event crafted by Tom Schroeter, a government geologist at the time — and the helicopter was carrying an important message for the unusual mining crowd. 

Transcribed by Lesley Stokes, Schroeter shares with The Northern Miner the tale behind the day that was meant to calm a fast-paced field season, yet became “the most legendary bush party” in history for the B.C. mining and exploration community.

Timing is everything in life, but also in business.  Leading up to that summer, the exploration sector in B.C. was bouncing back from the dismal, mid- to late-1970s New Democratic Party government. Metal prices were going back up, financing for companies finally came online and there was a lot of claim staking and exploration happening in the Toodoggone.

Some of the key projects in the Toodoggone at the time included: the Baker mine, operated by DuPont of Canada between 1980 and 1983; the Lawyers deposits explored by Serem between 1979 and 1989, and later mined between 1989 and 1993; the Al claim, explored by Energex between 1979 and 1988; and the Shasta deposit, explored by Newmont Mining in the mid-1980s. Other explorers include Texas Gulf Sulphur, a company made famous for the Kidd Creek discovery in Ontario.

In the spring, Joan Carne and Louise Eccles created an informal logistics group called “The Friends of the Toodoggone” as a way for companies to share operating costs in this very remote area, 300 km north of Smithers.

At the time I was conducting fieldwork for the B.C. government, and I knew the exploration crews out there were working hard. Back then it was common to do 16-hour days for months on end, so I thought it would be a great idea for everyone to take a break halfway through the season.

With the help of Joan, Louisa and a slew of others, we organized this one-day event in the form of an inner tube race down the Toodoggone River.

We chose a date and put the word out on the good ol’ 4441 radio channel — our only form of communication between the camps back then — and it spread like wildfire.

In the days leading up to the race, crews flew in from every direction within a 300 km radius, and set up temporary camps alongside the river. Helicopters were frequently seen slinging loads of 33 inner tubes and countless cases of beer, food and other supplies from the nearby Sturdee airstrip.

On race day, even more people appeared out of the bushes, and soon there were over 200 of us. Some were disguised in costumes — fluorescent capes, fake beards and noses — whereas others were stark-naked and covered in mud, with only flagging tape tied around certain appendages.

By mid-morning we were making our final preparations when three fixed-wing aircrafts lifted barely off the ground and buzzed over our heads — very surreal!

It was a few minutes to start time and our attention turned to a helicopter that appeared on the horizon and landed on the gravel bar in front of us. I could see it was from the Okanagan and it was carrying just one person, which was highly unusual.

Everyone was strangely quiet and watched while the helicopter’s blades slowly came to a stop.

Then the door opened and out walked Vic Hardy — he was a popular exploration geologist known and loved by many for his “work hard, play hard” attitude. Vic was dressed in one heck of a gaudy suit and tie and had a slightly amused look on his face — he looked hilarious.

Without a word, he stood on the edge of the bank and held up a finger to the sky as if he was testing the wind. Then out of nowhere, he turns and dives headfirst into the river, pops up and shouts “the water is cold!”

The group exploded in cheering and laughter — no one was expecting it — he served as a signal that the race had begun.

The rules were as follows: there were three people in a team, each team had to share one river tube. There were 16 challenges stationed along different points on the river, and if a team was successful, they’d be awarded points. Whoever had the most points at the finish line won the event.

The first challenge was tougher than it sounds: the teams were given a piece of paper, and if it was still dry at the finish line, they’d get points. But that meant the paper had to survive the “bear attack.”

Brian Bogdanovich dressed up in a bear costume and hid in the bushes alongside the river. When one of the teams came floating down, Brian would jump out and tackle the tube and all those in it. It worked really well, except by the end of the race the costume was in tatters from the fights that ensued.

In the end, Brian was a whole new kind of “bear” (as in bare-naked!).

There were portages, limbo-ropes, costume contests, beer-chugging — you name it.

By the end of the day, we had a three-way tie, so we had the participants come up with a one-minute theme song about the Toodoggone as a tiebreaker.

Cominco’s team, called “The Fallopian Tube,” just nailed it. The team, managed by Peter Leriche, used a kazoo for the melody and they won the entire contest by just one point.

Any serious event must have a serious prize, so Nick Carter from Great Western Petroleum at the time donated a trophy he bought from the Kerrisdale Lawn Bowlers in Vancouver.

Engraved on the back was; “Toodoggone River Run: Retread Trophy. Awarded Annually for Frigidity.”

The party went on through the night — it was truly epic.

In the morning, water was tossed on the campfires and the crews eventually straggled back to their nearby, or far-flung camps.

Little did we know at the time that we’d get hit with another downturn the following year, and most of the crews would be out of a job.

We had another race, but that summer of 1981 will always stand out in memory as the most legendary bush party the Toodoggone has ever seen.