Steve Cover
Member
I flew the Bush in Alaska for several years in the early 1980's.
During that time I had more than a few interesting adventures.
The Viking Funeral of Jake The Drake.
There are many tales of the burial of companions in the far north, from the Cremation of Sam McGee to the Funeral of Jake the Drake.
This is Jake’s story.
Back in the summer of 1982 we were surveying the area around Canoe Bay Alaska. While cutting a sight line in the brush, one of our surveyor apprentices came upon a duck nest. From the blood and the feathers scattered around it was clear that a predator had ambushed a duck on it’s nest. In the grass nearby a faint peeping was heard. Our surveyor investigated and found a baby duck huddled down and shaking in the cold.
Well, that is how Jake, as we named him, became a member of Camp 13. We made him a little compound in the mess hall with a light bulb for warmth. He was a cute little guy and became the camp mascot. Jake seemed to enjoy the attention given him. He often toured the camp from the warmth of someone’s shirt pocket. Unfortunately, while he would drink the water provided, he wouldn’t eat anything we tried to feed him. The end was inevitable. One morning after being with us a few days, he was found dead in his little enclosure.
During his time with us Jake had really won the hearts of the entire crew.
The problem was what to do with him. We didn’t want to just dump him in the trash. After some discussion and the imbibing of a large amount of beer, it was decided to give him a funeral commensurate to his position of an active member of our camp.
Being an aquatic animal, we came up with the idea of a funeral that a seafaring type would warrant. Thus, a Viking funeral was planned for the next Sunday day off. A small coffin was fabricated and a rudimentary Viking Ship was located among the empty boxes lying around behind the mess tent.
That Sunday, the entire crew attended a short service where the camp boss gave an eloquent eulogy for poor Jake laying there in his open casket. (The quality of the Camp Bosses words were heavily influenced by the amount of Budweiser that was sacrificed in the many, never ending toasts raised to our departed comrade.)
Jake in his coffin
After the service, Jake was transported down to the river’s edge.
The pole bearers carry Jake’s coffin to the river.
Rather than being a poll bearer, I was assigned to record the proceedings with my camera.
At the river’s edge, another several rounds of toasts were raised, and then Jake was placed in his little Viking ship for his final excursion on the water. The boat was filled with jet fuel and ignited and pushed out into the current.
The Viking ship is ignited while a crew member gives a teary salute to our departed friend.
Unfortunately, Jake didn’t want to leave, the current kept sending Jake back.
The Viking ship returns from the river…. again
Finally, the river took Jake’s little boat and we watched him disappear.
We returned to camp and had several more rounds of toasts to Jake.
I must apologize for the poor focus of some of these pictures.
The camera I had in camp that season did not have an auto-focus.
After all of the toasts to Jake, neither did I.
And so ends the legend of Jake’s Viking Funeral.
I hope you liked it.
Steve
During that time I had more than a few interesting adventures.
The Viking Funeral of Jake The Drake.
There are many tales of the burial of companions in the far north, from the Cremation of Sam McGee to the Funeral of Jake the Drake.
This is Jake’s story.
Back in the summer of 1982 we were surveying the area around Canoe Bay Alaska. While cutting a sight line in the brush, one of our surveyor apprentices came upon a duck nest. From the blood and the feathers scattered around it was clear that a predator had ambushed a duck on it’s nest. In the grass nearby a faint peeping was heard. Our surveyor investigated and found a baby duck huddled down and shaking in the cold.
Well, that is how Jake, as we named him, became a member of Camp 13. We made him a little compound in the mess hall with a light bulb for warmth. He was a cute little guy and became the camp mascot. Jake seemed to enjoy the attention given him. He often toured the camp from the warmth of someone’s shirt pocket. Unfortunately, while he would drink the water provided, he wouldn’t eat anything we tried to feed him. The end was inevitable. One morning after being with us a few days, he was found dead in his little enclosure.
During his time with us Jake had really won the hearts of the entire crew.
The problem was what to do with him. We didn’t want to just dump him in the trash. After some discussion and the imbibing of a large amount of beer, it was decided to give him a funeral commensurate to his position of an active member of our camp.
Being an aquatic animal, we came up with the idea of a funeral that a seafaring type would warrant. Thus, a Viking funeral was planned for the next Sunday day off. A small coffin was fabricated and a rudimentary Viking Ship was located among the empty boxes lying around behind the mess tent.
That Sunday, the entire crew attended a short service where the camp boss gave an eloquent eulogy for poor Jake laying there in his open casket. (The quality of the Camp Bosses words were heavily influenced by the amount of Budweiser that was sacrificed in the many, never ending toasts raised to our departed comrade.)
Jake in his coffin
After the service, Jake was transported down to the river’s edge.
The pole bearers carry Jake’s coffin to the river.
Rather than being a poll bearer, I was assigned to record the proceedings with my camera.
At the river’s edge, another several rounds of toasts were raised, and then Jake was placed in his little Viking ship for his final excursion on the water. The boat was filled with jet fuel and ignited and pushed out into the current.
The Viking ship is ignited while a crew member gives a teary salute to our departed friend.
Unfortunately, Jake didn’t want to leave, the current kept sending Jake back.
The Viking ship returns from the river…. again
Finally, the river took Jake’s little boat and we watched him disappear.
We returned to camp and had several more rounds of toasts to Jake.
I must apologize for the poor focus of some of these pictures.
The camera I had in camp that season did not have an auto-focus.
After all of the toasts to Jake, neither did I.
And so ends the legend of Jake’s Viking Funeral.
I hope you liked it.
Steve
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