Dorothy Annie (Kinder) Beloud

Talk about a pioneer life! Dorothy Beloud left the city of North Vancouver with her two teen-age children to join her husband in the wilds of the Yukon Territory in 1945. Bun Beloud had come into the north country ten years earlier, long before there was an Alaska Highway, or a Haines Road. He had chosen an area at the south end of Dezadeash Lake to be his base for prospecting and mining.

By the time the family came, the roads had just opened to the public and travelling on them was a challenge. Bun’s place on the Haines Road was first known as Beloud’s Post. Later it became Dezadeash Lodge.

One can only imagine the challenges Dorothy must have had to cope with in running a household, and soon after, having a place of business open to the public. All the while dealing with the devasting loss of her eldest son. Roland.

On a rare trip home, Bun had brought seventeen-year-old Roland back up north with him. While working alongside his father and another father and son team, Roland was buried in a landslide and could not be rescued in time.

This tragedy is what David Beloud is referring to when he writes, “Mother’s tears came easily.”

(The above is by Ellen Eby.)

(The following is by David Beloud in memory of his mother.)

Dorothy Annie Kinder was born in 1902 to Fred and Mary Kinder of Lillooet, B.C. Her father left the family for parts unknown. Her

mother and four children fended for themselves. They lived in a small house in the bush down by Lillooet. Dorothy married Bun Beloud and they had two boys: Roland and (me) David, and also a sister Joan.

My dad was an extreme optimist with ambition and talent to match. My mother was quiet and gentle. I remember incidents from their lives.

Once Father was busy with the pick axe, and called to me, “Boy, get the grub hoe and shovel and clear this brush. We have to build an ice house here.” What Father said we usually did! 

At this time, Mother had just brought out a heavy load of washed sheets from the old washing machine that should have been in the museum, and she was crying.

I called to Father and he said, “What’s wrong? What’s Wrong?” The wire that he had put up from tree to tree to dry the clothes on was too high and Mother could not reach it to put the sheets over.

Father called, “I’ll handle the sheets, and you go in and start dinner. There are four men coming to stay for a few days.

Tears came easily to Mom. Her first son, Roland, died at 17 years of age in a rock slide while working with his father. This was always in her thoughts but she never went to see the place just twenty miles away where the accident occurred.

I think that in everyone’s life, we all long for someone to share good things and disappointments. Marriage often does not solve everything. Even adult animals and birds will stay with the young until they are sure they can adapt to this world. Why can’t man do this? Of illness, exhaustion, hunger, or being so tired, the worst is loneliness.

Mother enjoyed her letter writing to her mom, brothers, and sister. Being 2000 miles away and down a less travelled road answers to her letters were longer arriving.

When Father said to split wood or pack water you knew it had to be done. I seemed tired and useless at these types of orders. Father would say that as a young lad he worked in the mines in B.C.; with a wheel barrow he brought rocks and silver out from the tunnels at 25 cents a day or so.  He always had a good work attitude.

Mom’s enjoyment was the people that Father brought in to help her. Two young ladies came from Klukshu every summer. Two school teachers from Fairbanks and a lady from Haines did lots of curtain sewing. The road crew boys were great. For example, Phil Todd washed so many dishes for Mom and always used to say, “More! More!”

Mom always spoke of life and family and they liked that as many of them were also away from home. Mom would say, “The queen and I have something in common; we were both born the same year. I suppose one with jewels and diamonds and the other with a printed large flowered dress.”

I remember how Mom enjoyed the week that Father and I went to Dawson Creek for building supplies. Dad made sure of lots of wood and water for her by the fireplace. And she also had lots of books and her cat.

I helped her pack for one trip and she had two jars of aspirins. Her doctor said her twisted gnarled hands were the second worst that he had seen. Her glasses were quite thick and she painted the frames rose-coloured.

After moving to Vancouver, Joan took us for a drive to the park. Mom sat on two pillows and was quite delighted to see many squirrels in one small tree!

Mom was tired at that time so I said, “I will carry you.” “No, I will make it,” she replied. “No, I will carry you. You carried me at one time,” I replied.

A few years ago, I was driving up the long Skagway summit; the view was just wonderful. Everything that day was more serene, peaceful, calm and quiet, with the snow-capped mountains and hills and blue skies. Even more so than other days.

At the top I checked my watch. It was 12 noon. Two hours to home. And now I was in the house putting things away when the phone rang. My sister Joan from Vancouver said “David, Mom passed away.” My breath left me. I asked when it happened and she replied, “12 o’clock noon.”

Mom’s ashes are scattered with her mother’s over the lakes down on Vancouver Island. Why are we so scattered? Long ago, people used to stay together a hundred years or more.

It is written, “I know your heart beats. Your days are numbered,” God says. “Your thousand years are but a day to mine.”

Would I do all of this all over again?

YES! YES! I would but I would tell my mother often how much I loved her. And how I would care for her. “I never did tell you, Mom, that I love you. God forgive me!”