Author: Peter Klopp

Wednesday’s Photos

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Breaking One’s Routines

Our Spontaneous Trip to the Rocky Mountains

When my wife and I retired, we had to make quite a few changes to our lives. We realized that we are no longer bound by the daily and weekly routines imposed on us by our employer. We spent more time in the evening doing things together, such as watching on TV ballet, figure skating, documentaries on scientific explorers, or the occasional good movie. With each other’s agreement, we also follow our individual favourite activities, blogging, working on photos and stories, corresponding with friends and family. It felt good to burn the midnight oil and not have to worry about getting enough sleep.

While we thoroughly enjoyed our new freedom to live each day the way we saw fit, we also discovered how our activities were still hampered by the habits that governed our lives during our employment years. In the past, most of our travel plans centred around the set vacation times, long weekends, statutory holidays like Christmas and Easter. That kind of thinking was still so ingrained that we were blind to catch an opportunity when it presented itself and learn to act more often at the spur of the moment.

Recently, I planned a pleasure trip to the Rocky Mountains, and I must confess that I have been and still am an inveterate planner. Prompted by nostalgic memories of a journey to Kicking Horse Pass and Emerald Lake twelve years ago, I decided to celebrate my birthday with my wife in the mountains. In the weeks before this event in the life of an octogenarian, I checked the long-term forecast. I was getting worried the closer we approached the date of our departure. The weatherman predicted extremely hazardous road conditions coupled with snowfall warnings and subzero temperatures, whereas only seven days earlier the forecast was for sunshine and spring-like temperatures in Golden and Banff. I told Biene I did not want such a dismal birthday trip. I read her disappointment on her face, and quickly added,  “Let’s have a glorious mountain experience instead”. So it turned out to be. Enjoy the video.

Walter Panknin (1898 – 1977) and His Family Ch 8 Part 1

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The Eternal Recurrent of the Same

The Challenge of Raising Teenagers in the Early 1960’s

Peter writes from the present post onward.

‘The children now love luxury; they show disrespect for elders and love chatter in place of exercise. Children are tyrants, not servants of the households. They no longer rise when their elders enter the room. They contradict their parents, chatter before company, gobble up dainties at the table, cross their legs, and tyrannize over their teachers.’ This quote is attributed to Socrates. While it has not been authenticated, it reflects the idea, based on painful parental experiences, that, throughout the millennia, children have always been perceived as unruly, rude and disrespectful to their parents and those in authority.



Portrait of Socrates. Marble, Roman artwork (1st century), perhaps a copy of a lost bronze statue.

Papa Panknin wrote many letters addressing and responding to friends and relatives. His literary ruminations could easily exceed the volume of a 500-page novel. The correspondence entailed a plethora of topics, such as politics, the rapidly changing customs and mores, the ills of post-war West Germany, and the challenges of bringing up their two teenage twins, Walter and Gertrud (Biene).

I will focus only on matters relating to the history of the Walter and Elisabeth family and their children. Furthermore, to make the final chapters more colourful and authentic, I will at times deviate from the strictly chronological path. I will make extensive use of Papa’s correspondence and will try my best to translate the German passages to give all of you a genuine understanding of my father-in-law, mother-in-law, Walter and Gertrud (Biene). Biene and I, as some of you may recall, met on the Pentecost weekend at Lake Baldenay and four years later, got married in Calgary on the Victoria weekend in 1966.

Wednesday’s Photos

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Nature’s Art and Knotholes

Once again, while walking across the Fauquier Golf Course, I focused on the beauty of the little things nature is eager to supply for all people who have an eye for the natural beauty all around us. The golf course extends a little bit beyond Heart Creek. The golfer crosses the obstacle via a bridge constructed with rough lumber and plywood. On the railing boards, I discovered several knotholes whose textures, patterns, and shapes are truly natural masterpieces. The following photos are three fine examples of nature’s artwork.

Walter Panknin (1898 – 1977) and His Family Ch7 Part 21

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Biene writes:

Rescue in the Knick of Time

 Time seems to stand still like in a bad dream.  Increasing panic is gripping my heart when I look at my brother’s white horrified face.  I keep on stammering in my heart,  “Please, God help us, please, dear God help us….”.   Almost paralyzed by augmenting fear we suddenly see a big motorboat approaching. Almost instantly our fear turns into joy.  Help is on the way!!!!   But our relief and joy are short-lived.  The big motorized yacht moves by us at great speed without stopping.  Didn’t they see us?  The waves are high and our overturned boat is blue.  They must have missed us. This time our desperation is almost overwhelming.   What shall we do?  What can we do?

Numbed by cold and fear I am unable to make a decision. I am worried about my brother who looks ghastly white and is very quiet.  After what seems like an eternity, we see another (or is it the same?} boat approaching from the direction it had vanished.  A small flicker of hope revives us enough to start screaming at the top of our lungs for help. The big boat slowly approaches and then starts circling us. It stops!  Two men climb down a ladder and grab our hands to pull us out of the water onto the deck. Two ladies wrap us in blankets and help us move into a cozy cabin to warm up and rest while the two men manage to retrieve our boat from the lake. Our rescuers were American tourists who had not seen us in the water initially.  One of the men, however, had spotted our paddle floating on the water.  This miraculously prompted their search for us.  Apparently, we were hardly visible in the high waves and they had almost missed us again.

Luckily our parents only found out about our near drowning after we were rescued and safely returned to them. Contrary to our expectations our father did not scold us or get upset over the loss of equipment and damage to the boat.  He loved adventures and was happy and proud that we survived. He commended us for staying with the boat and not trying to swim ashore.

Walter, Biene’s twin brother, built this model sailing ship.

The Little Jewel of the West Kootenays, Fauquier, BC

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A short film by Peter Klopp

On March 2, despite a severe weather advisory and heavy snowfall, my wife and I drove on a 250 km round trip to the little town Silverton in the Slocan Valley. In January, I submitted a film to the North Valley Mountain Film Festival. I felt very honoured when I received an email telling me that my film had been accepted for showing at the Film Festival. What a delightful evening it was! Fourteen pieces were selected out of a large number of entries we were told. The emphasis was on local amateur productions of the West Kootenay area. But there were also some outstanding professional films from outside our region.

Here is what I read on their website:

Inspired by our mountain culture here in the North Slocan, a handful of local adventurers and wilderness lovers have been organizing the North Valley Mountain Film Festival since 2007. It is now an annual event thanks to community interest and support, and a committed group of volunteers. We are happy to bring you another fantastic evening of films and photography for our 18th Mountain Film Festival.

This festival is inspired by what drew, and keeps, many of us here – the lake, mountains, wilderness, adventure, and simple healthy living. We seek to showcase a mix of professional and home-grown productions to bring awe, laughter, intrigue, and discussion to the community. We feature shows from local to regional, and sometimes from a little farther afield. Thanks to all the local folks for their submissions.

Walter Panknin (1898 – 1977) and His Family Ch7 Part 20

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A Perilous Sailing Adventure

Sailing Adventure Part 2

In no time we reached the middle of the lake.  “Strange”,  I suddenly thought,  “there are no other boats here. Why do they  keep on sailing parallel to shore?”  I tried to gently shift my weight to look back to our now distant beach. Suddenly there was a strong gust of wind billowing our sails.  My brother frantically tried to maneuver the sails.  “Sit on the edge of the boat, quick! ” he commanded sternly looking worried.  Although I had reservations, I did not dare to voice an objection. I quickly lifted myself up to sit on the narrow rim of the boat,  when the wind shifted again without warning. Then everything happened like in slow motion.

I see the look of horror on my brother’s face while I am gently tilted backwards into the water with the white fluttering sails tipping in my direction. I am sinking deep down into the cold water.  When I finally surface I see my brother beside the capsized boat looking shocked and angry.  My first reaction is a fit of hysterical laughter.  “What happened?” I stupidly ask while trying to catch my breath.  It all seems so unreal.  “Stop laughing!” my brother yells holding on to the overturned boat. When he tells me to cry for help I am racked by another fit of laughter.  “Why don’t you?” I manage to reply.  “We’ll swim to shore”,  I suggest.  I am a strong swimmer with lots of stamina. Almost beside himself, my brother shouts back, “Never!!! We must stay with the boat”  Slowly I am regaining my sanity.  I am looking around trying to assess the situation.  We are in the middle of the lake far from either shore.  The waves are high. The water is churned up and cold.  We don’t have life vests. No boats are in sight except the sailing boats looking like miniature toys in the distance.  Suddenly panic seizes me.

Our desperate attempts to right the boat fail.  The weight of the water-logged sails is beyond our strength.  One of our paddles floats away on the waves.  My brother does not allow me to retrieve it.  We continue to cling to the boat bobbing in the waves, occasionally crying out for help which we realize is useless.  Nobody can hear us. 

To be continued …