February 2009
Trap line
I have run a large trap line (about 450 square miles) in Northern British Columbia for many, many years.
Some years ago, 15?, my wife gave me a Leatherman for Christmas. I thought it more or less a Boy Scout gadget, and didn't put it on my belt for several months. Then I got to thinking one day, "Why Not?" It hasn't been off my belt since then. That means it goes to church with me, goes on my trap line with me, maybe not to bed.
I run my trails, about 100 miles of them, on a Skidoo Tundra. Like me, it isn't new. One day, I was about 15 miles from my nearest cabin. It was around -10 degrees, and the Tundra sputtered to a stop. I had plenty of gas, even carry a spare quart in the skimmer behind the Tundra. I could start the machine, but it would stall when I tried to power it up. Out came the Leatherman. I removed the carburetor, putting various little bolts, nuts and washers in my mouth so as not to lose them in the snow. Turns out the floats and float bowl were sticky. A Kleenex sufficed to clean them. Back together again, and we were off.
I cannot live without my old Leatherman. Trouble is. It now is loose around the pliers pivot. I like the file as well as the knife, and the Leatherman company no longer produces the old original model.
George H.
Prince George, British Columbia, Canada
OK, you voyeur, you. Enough of reading other people's stories. It's time you told your own tale of gripping heroism or even just neat DIY'ism. We know there's a Shakespeare in you somewhere. Don't make us use the Steens to find it.