(as told to Myrtle McMullen by George Bosvik) Pete and I arrived in New York from Norway on December 5, 1920. We -reached Kitscoty on the 10th, and Norway Valley the next day. Our first job was getting out logs for the Norway Valley School. Pete Peterson had a sawmill at Rita Lake and a planer at Harry Bowtell's. While at the mill we met McQueen, who had been stable boy at Fort Pitt during the Rebellion. He had helped bury three policemen who had been shot. Later markers were put up to show where they were killed, but they were not put in the corÂrect location. Pete and I could still see the graves in 1970.
In 1921 I helped build the Norway Valley School. The next year I got the homestead that Leonard Heins had given up. For fifteen winters Pete and I fished at Cold Lake, selling to a fish company. Our biggest trout weighed 49 1/2 pounds. The Bums Company always bought our largest one, paying $25. for it.
One nice, calm morning in the winter of 1923 Pete and I could see no steam coming off the lake, so we were sure it was frozen over. Across the lake we could see what we took to be smoke from buildings over there - Chartier's hotel and a store. We got the first net in place, but when we put the second net in the jigger took off. We knew something was wrong. We were drifting, so we pulled everything in. It beÂgan to get dark, so we built a fire. Then we heard someone calling, followed by the sound of a boat scraping on rocks as it was being pulled down into the water. At midnight they gave up. I kept warm by skating around. Then we heard oars hitting the ice. Hurrah! Nels called, "Don't jump, fellows, you'll swamp me. I'll get you out." When the lake froze over we went back there, and the fishing was excellent. Many others came out, too. The next year a one- mile limit was put into effect. We went out on a point and managed to get good fishing, but it wasn't long before trout became scarce.
Pete and I went back to Cold Lake in 1963 but couldn't catch any trout. We asked a fox rancher at North Bay if there was a road out to the point, about three miles. "You mean Bosvik Point?" he asked. We were surprised to learn that it had been given our name. We were wondering how to cook the steaks Pete had brought, but he said, "I'll fix them." He rolled two layers of aluminum foil around each steak, buried them in the sand, then built a fire over them. While we fished, Gladys and Rose and some of the children kept the fire going. When we got back from four hours of fishing the steaks were delicious.
Back in the late 1920s I worked on railroad building for four years, driving my three horses on a dump wagon. When putting in the rye on my land east of Heinsburg we thought we'd have easy going. I remember Bill McMullen driving all those horses on the elevating grader, trying to get through the willow crowns. Besides farming I worked at carpentry, helping with many of the buildings in the new town of Heinsburg. At present (1976) Rose and I are reÂtired and living at Salmon Arm, B.C.