Family History & Valuing Family

On a crisp and sunny November day in 2021, my wife Lisa and I were taking the scenic route from Grande Prairie to our home in Calgary, unaware we were about to learn a piece of family history that would lead to greater family connections. After driving south through the plains, west across the foothills and into the Rocky Mountains, where the early winter snow blanketed the peaks, we stopped to stretch our legs at the Grande Cache Tourism & Interpretive Centre.

In the museum section I – as a geologist – was reading with interest about the area’s natural history when Lisa urgently called me over. She stood at a display showing details on local mountains and pointed to a plaque titled “Mount Mawdsley,” which explained the peak was, “Named for the Head of the Geology Department at the University of Saskatchewan, Dr. James Buckland Mawdsley.”

James was my great uncle – my grandfather’s older brother – who we knew as “J.B.” For decades, our family was aware of a mountain in Alberta that shared our name, but didn’t know its exact location, nor that it had been named for our respected uncle.

The plaque went on to say that a former student of J.B.’s, while working in the area for the Geological Survey of Canada in the 1950s, proposed naming the mountain after his professor (according to Alberta’s Historic Resources Management Branch, Geographical Names Database). In the 1920s, J.B. had also worked for the G.S.C. after receiving his PhD from Princeton University before joining the University of Saskatchewan. He retired in 1963 as Dean of Engineering and passed away in 1964 at the age of 70. Prior to earning his doctorate, in his early twenties, J.B. was twice injured in WW1; first with the Princess Patricia’s Canadian Light Infantry and second as a pilot with the Royal Flying Corps.

While I reread the plaque several times in a rare state of speechlessness, Lisa promptly proposed a climb to the summit the following summer. For Lisa, organizing big family get-togethers and adventures is a common thing and I agreed to this excellent idea. However, because of the challenging nature of the trip and my poor physical condition, I was concerned about the challenge involved.

Lisa has a stronger sense of family than most, especially when compared to me, who has been known for taking extended family for granted. Our parents taught my siblings and I the value of family and we were always surrounded with loving cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. However, as a teenaged ingrate, I resented the constant gatherings and whined, “Geez, not another family birthday, I just want to watch TV!”

Lisa, in contrast, grew up as the daughter of Norwegian immigrants with the only family in Canada being her parents and older sister. The importance of extended family for Lisa was obvious—but obvious only due to its absence. Lisa’s parents came from a solid line of Scandinavians that lived for unknown generations off the sea and land on a fjord near the Arctic Circle. Survival depended on family and this reliance was underscored during Nazi Germany’s five-year occupation of Norway during World War Two. Over that period, gatherings outside the family were restricted and schools closed—the invading forces converted these to control and command centres.

Given Lisa’s background, she instinctively knows the value of family and often does more to reinforce my family than its core members.

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While Lisa continued to plan the climb, she encouraged me to contact J.B.’s descendants which – it turns out – was the start of a fascinating journey into broader connections with extended family members and our ancestors.

First, I contacted J.B.’s last two surviving children who were happy to hear about the mountain named for their father but, sadly, both have since passed away. However, through them my search quickly expanded, and I have discovered or rediscovered over fifteen second cousins plus dozens of more-distant relations. It is intriguing to see similarities in appearance, professions, pursuits, and a shared high-regard for family. I met a second cousin – for the first time – who was born only two days after myself and we share many common traits and interests. Several relatives are also building family trees and we are working together on missing branches.

I have learned this family is like most which has, over the generations, experienced many dysfunctions, heartbreaks, and tragic losses of family members. There is also the loss, so to speak, of myself not getting to know extended family who have been there all along. I regret not getting to know family members (or even knowing of their existence) who have now passed away. As the world seems to get more complicated every day, I gain comfort in knowing the broader family and the connections they bring.

Moreover, as I now piece together stories of distant relatives and our ancestors I learn details that would have provided a greater appreciation and understanding of family in my earlier years.

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Nine months after finding Mount Mawdsley, the alarms sounded at 5:00 a.m. and ten individuals, including five of J.B.’s blood-relatives, began our journey to the top of the mountain.

The first step was crossing the fast-flowing Smoky River where the trip almost ended before it started. One of the two white-water raft guides, Rio, was knocked overboard, after a difficult launch, by an overhanging branch. This made the crossing also a rescue mission but – with powerful swimming from the submerged guide (we later learned Rio was a competitive swimmer) and Johannes’ calm skill, strength, and clear paddling instructions – everyone made it to the other side.

The trail is not well-used, so we did a fair bit of bush-whacking before arriving at the campsite at noon, set up our tents, ate lunch and continued upwards. That evening at 6:00 we all stood on the peak where many photos were taken – and hugs given – as we celebrated the accomplishment of covering over 20 kilometers and climbing 1,200 meters from river-bottom.

Arriving back at the tents just before dark, at 9:45 p.m., I collapsed into our tent exhausted and in pain, but happy. The next day we packed up, hiked out and made it back across the Smoky River without incident. It was an unforgettable experience that brought those present, and those that wished they could have been there, closer together through the joy of sharing a family adventure.

Over two years have passed since learning of the mountain named for our uncle, which has been a gift that led to finding and contacting extended family. More importantly, I have found more love and understanding for those closest to me including my late parents.

With Lisa’s instinctive knowledge of a family’s inherent value – borne from the absence of nearby family – she made our family bonds stronger.

I will close here because I need to give Lisa a hug and then make calls to my aunts and uncles.