Vertigo: Point Lake in a rare dead calm, Coppermine River, NWT, 1977
I made this image with an Olympus OM 1 or 2 from the stern of my canoe during an archaeological survey of the Coppermine. My partner and I began our survey at the headwaters, Lac de Gras, where, years later, the big Kimberlite pipes were discovered and Canada's diamond industry began.
That was a difficult but wonderful trip, made somewhat odd because we were, by chance, following a royal canoe party (Prince Andrew, I believe) down the Coppermine, which made for some hilarious radio chatter between me, pretending to be an unctuous Conservative, and a certain famously irascible government geologist, camped on the lower Coppermine above the Arctic Circle, who was equally known for his marathon running, his taste for weed, and his hatred of all things royal :)
In the end, with the autumn gales beginning as they do in August in the Barren Lands, and our canoe carrying lots of scientifically precious prehistoric stone tools as a result of our survey, we accepted his generous offer to fly us out from that government geology camp and back to Yellowknife free of charge.
The following summer, in 1978, my Woodyard partner and I made an archaeological survey of the Rawalpindi River, which is a tributary of the Coppermine. Imagine my shock, at the trip's beginning, to see a grizzly bear running toward me in my camera's viewfinder when I turned around 180 degrees to take a picture of the river's headwaters outflow. But thank god I did turn precisely then! Oh man, that was a fire drill. We did everything wrong, were totally scared and stupid, but we survived intact (except for our minds) and later briefly radioed in to the geology expeditor that we'd had a scary bear encounter, been chased, but were OK, and were continuing the project as planned. It's a whole big hilarious story of its own, and so totally Northern.
But later, back in Yellowknife, my first-ever music gig was about to happen, backing up Ted Wesley, and he asked me who I was. I replied with my name, Frank Metcalf, amazed at this basic question from a friend. But what he wanted was my stage name. I laughed and joked and said duhhh I don't have or want a stage name. Then Ted said well it's obvious. I replied what's obvious? It was all sounding crazy. Ted said well you're Grizzly Frank. I said what the hell??? That was totally crazy. I ran from the damn bear, and was always dead honest about that. But he said everyone knows that's your name now. It was a classic WTF??? moment. Turns out the expeditor had kind of fleshed out a bunch of "details" to make the "story" much more gripping and less ridiculous than it really was.
Ted was hiring me for my first-ever gig, he wanted that name for me, so I said what the hell, OK. CBC / Radio Canada loved the "Grizzly Frank, Canada's Master of Bones" schtick and came calling repeatedly. I loved being onstage, and we were right then creating this pan-Arctic folk festival called Folk on the Rocks, which continues to this day (2022). I was on the first booking committee. It was the start of a whole huge long pile of fun, gigs, and travel for me personally, all over Canada and two festivals in Europe as well, and so I will always thank my dear departed friend Ted Wesley for his crazy idea. I guess I should thank the grizzly bear too, but that's harder :)
Vertigo: Point Lake in a rare dead calm, Coppermine River, NWT, 1977
I made this image with an Olympus OM 1 or 2 from the stern of my canoe during an archaeological survey of the Coppermine. My partner and I began our survey at the headwaters, Lac de Gras, where, years later, the big Kimberlite pipes were discovered and Canada's diamond industry began.
That was a difficult but wonderful trip, made somewhat odd because we were, by chance, following a royal canoe party (Prince Andrew, I believe) down the Coppermine, which made for some hilarious radio chatter between me, pretending to be an unctuous Conservative, and a certain famously irascible government geologist, camped on the lower Coppermine above the Arctic Circle, who was equally known for his marathon running, his taste for weed, and his hatred of all things royal :)
In the end, with the autumn gales beginning as they do in August in the Barren Lands, and our canoe carrying lots of scientifically precious prehistoric stone tools as a result of our survey, we accepted his generous offer to fly us out from that government geology camp and back to Yellowknife free of charge.
The following summer, in 1978, my Woodyard partner and I made an archaeological survey of the Rawalpindi River, which is a tributary of the Coppermine. Imagine my shock, at the trip's beginning, to see a grizzly bear running toward me in my camera's viewfinder when I turned around 180 degrees to take a picture of the river's headwaters outflow. But thank god I did turn precisely then! Oh man, that was a fire drill. We did everything wrong, were totally scared and stupid, but we survived intact (except for our minds) and later briefly radioed in to the geology expeditor that we'd had a scary bear encounter, been chased, but were OK, and were continuing the project as planned. It's a whole big hilarious story of its own, and so totally Northern.
But later, back in Yellowknife, my first-ever music gig was about to happen, backing up Ted Wesley, and he asked me who I was. I replied with my name, Frank Metcalf, amazed at this basic question from a friend. But what he wanted was my stage name. I laughed and joked and said duhhh I don't have or want a stage name. Then Ted said well it's obvious. I replied what's obvious? It was all sounding crazy. Ted said well you're Grizzly Frank. I said what the hell??? That was totally crazy. I ran from the damn bear, and was always dead honest about that. But he said everyone knows that's your name now. It was a classic WTF??? moment. Turns out the expeditor had kind of fleshed out a bunch of "details" to make the "story" much more gripping and less ridiculous than it really was.
Ted was hiring me for my first-ever gig, he wanted that name for me, so I said what the hell, OK. CBC / Radio Canada loved the "Grizzly Frank, Canada's Master of Bones" schtick and came calling repeatedly. I loved being onstage, and we were right then creating this pan-Arctic folk festival called Folk on the Rocks, which continues to this day (2022). I was on the first booking committee. It was the start of a whole huge long pile of fun, gigs, and travel for me personally, all over Canada and two festivals in Europe as well, and so I will always thank my dear departed friend Ted Wesley for his crazy idea. I guess I should thank the grizzly bear too, but that's harder :)