At the end of Quesnel Lake Road is a cabin. In the early nineties this was my home. The cabin was built mostly of lumber milled on site by Bruce Halvorsen, son of the fabled Andy Halvorsen who built Elysia Resort and the adjacent airstrip. Bruce learned cabinet making from his father and the cabin was finished with custom furnishings, including an oak pedestal table and matching chairs. The small dining area featured double glazed, floor-to-ceiling picture windows. Though the furniture was splendid, the prospect of a tipped table or chair crashing through a $300.00 window was a constant worry. In recent years, with the cabin used only by summer guests, replacing the dinette set with light, well-balanced chairs and a four-legged table became a priority.

In the summer of 2002, while browsing through Pat and Erna's Iron Bed (New, Used & Antiques), I came upon a rare set of cane topped, bentwood armchairs. The chairs, painted red with blue plaid upholstery over the original rattan, were everything I had been looking for. In retrospect, it seems suspicious that the bargain I struck was 'four chairs for the price of three'.

That year I didn't make it to the lake at all and the chairs stayed in the garage all winter. By spring, I had sold the original oak table and chairs to Bruce's cousin, keeping them in the family, so to speak, and found a replacement table for a song, making do with a round, glass topped patio item. The curved style of the legs complimented the bentwood chairs and it was very untippable.

It was in September of 2003 that my girlfriend and I finally set out in her truck, with the load of furniture, for some fishing at Quesnel Lake.  I had planned the day for a long time, but I didn't plan what happened next. Several miles from Horsefly I heard a loud crack. Looking back, we saw one of my precious chairs bouncing down the road. Quickly, I reloaded the damaged chair and to my dismay, I saw that no one had secured any of the chairs. Grabbing some heavy bungee cords and roping the tangle of chairs together, I did not notice, until we unloaded at the lake, that there were now only three chairs. The one chair, with it's broken arm, looked repairable, but the loss of the fourth chair so depressed us that we left them all behind when we returned to town at dusk, with little hope of spotting the missing chair along the roadside.

I looked around town for a replacement with no luck. Erna, at The Iron Bed, was especially sad to hear the news, as she admired the chairs, too. Eventually I put an ad in the Tribune's Lost and Found: 'Lost on Horsefly Rd. Tues. Sept 10. Red Bentwood chair with blue seat cover. Part of set. Please call…'.

About a week later, while I was at Hub City Auctions, still trying to replace the chair set, a message left on my answering machine said, "This is Doug Best. I saw your ad in the Tribune and I know where your chair is. I was out riding range about a week ago and I saw it in the ditch. I meant to go back and pick it up but I forgot about it. It's between Mrs. Dickie's gate and the top of the Gravel Creek Hill on the south side of the road. If you need any more information, call me at…"

I was both delighted and amazed. I have no idea who or where Mrs. Dickie is, or where the Gravel Creek Hill is. Nor do I have a suitable vehicle in which to make such an expedition. In the morning, I called the number. Mr. Best, I learned from his wife, was out riding range, but she gave me more particulars about the ditch. "You know where the Gravel Creek Hill is.", "No.", "Well, just before you get to the bend in the road by the gravel pit…you know where the gravel pit is, don't you?", "No.", "It's where the banks are high on both sides of the road. You know the place, that's Mrs. Dickie's fence. You can't see the house from the road, but there's a gate and a road that leads to her house. Do you know where the bend is?" "No. Listen, I used to live out that way, but I don't recognize the landmarks. How far out of Horsefly is this?", "Oh, a ways. Just before you go around the bend, you're at the top of a hill. Well, that's the Gravel Creek Hill and before that, there's a gate. The chair is between the gate and the top of the hill, on the south side.", "Did I just come up the hill?", "No.", "Why not?", "Because you're already up! The hill goes down."

After going over this in my mind, I called back and asked if Mr. Best could call me himself. Later that morning, I ran into Pat. I told him the chair had been spotted. "If it's wood, I can fix it," he said. Things were looking up. While waiting to hear more from Mr. Best, a Quesnel Lake neighbour kindly retrieved the other broken chair. Pat could fix them both!

A week of wet weather passed before Doug Best called again, "I have your chair," he said. "It looked pretty bad in the ditch, but once I got it out I though somebody may be able to salvage it. I'll bring it to Beaver Valley Feeds on Thursday. You can pick it up there."

I don't know what they thought at Beaver Valley Feeds when this odd duck showed up to retrieve a smashed chair. I was quite shocked when I saw it myself. Three weeks in a wet ditch had uncurled one broken arm so it stuck out like a hitchhiker's thumb. The impact caused seven breaks in all. With chagrin, I showed the pair of chairs to Pat. "Look at it this way," he said, "What have you got to lose. I'll see what I can do."

Some time over Christmas, he worked some magic on the wood. At New Year Pat called with a Kris Kringle smile in his voice to say, "Your chairs are ready, you can pick them up or I'll drop them over. We can settle up later.'

In the middle of the arctic freeze-out, with poor road conditions and poor visibility, several days passed before I was in his vicinity. I almost stopped in, but I was in a quandary as to where to store the chairs until spring. Besides, strapping them to my two-seater convertible would create a driving hazard." Perhaps tomorrow," I thought, but at 5:00 O'clock that afternoon, my phone rang. "I have some very bad news for you," Pat said. "One of your chairs has been stolen from the store. Erna was locking up when she noticed it missing from the top of the stairs. She looked all over for it. It was there at three O'clock, but it's gone now."

The next day I went to see which chair remained. It was the one from the ditch. "I'm glad it's this one," I said. "I wanted to admire your workmanship." We talked about who could have removed the chair. There were a few suspects, but no leads.

'Lost, from The Iron Bed between 3:00-5:00 O'clock on Tues. Jan 13. Red Bentwood chair with cane seat and blue plaid seat cover. Part of set. Please call Mildred Baines. 398-9841'

Not the END