GVHS Logo

Up the Gatineau! Article

This article was first published in Up the Gatineau! Volume 7.

Dr. Geggie's Wild Winter Ride

Alfred O'Hanlon

The year was 1929. You might say I was a child, when Dr. Geggie and l first came across each other. Each summer he would come to the hamlet of Low, to make his rounds and check up on his patients scattered around the lonely farms of the area. l was 15 years old when we met on the farm where l lived. We took a shine to each other. Today, young people would say the vibes were just right. To cut the story short, he arranged for me to accompany him on his rounds. His little mare and buggy, or cutter, was a welcome sight to many an isolated farmwife.

When he saw all his people in Fieldville, we would wander far into Caywood (a real backwoods at the time) then zig-zag around undeveloped side roads and wagon tracks to Brennan's Hill and other places.

May I give my impression of this remarkable man? During those summers we rode together, l’m sure l got to know him well. He was a man of medium height with short cropped hair, turning gray. Always neatly dressed. A very trim man. A small spikey moustache adorned his upper lip. Pince-nez glasses completed his person. Just a moment. I forgot his complexion. His skin was of such a texture that his face always seemed to have a golden glow about it.

He was brusque with people. His temper had a short fuse. He spoke in short clipped sentences. But he could not "cod" a 15 year old boy. He tried his best to hide a very soft heart. He loved the Gatineau people. On our long rides, he would tell me many amusing anecdotes. And some not so funny. He was marvelous company. But his over-riding interest was to see a hospital built for his people.

THE RIDE

I had a team of Clydes hitched up to a flat-decked bobsled. It was the middle of January and I had been moving various types of feed from one building to another. The afternoon was closing in and the sky was darkening. The wind was growing stronger and the Clydes were getting restless.

I unhitched them and watered them. On the way to the stable, my boss (and friend) came rushing up to me. He told me that his wife was about to give birth. He was frantic. He had every right to be. Even Dr. Geggie had told me how concerned he was about this woman's health. She had severe high blood pressure and Dr. Geggie said she should not have any more babies. My boss explained that his wife was in a bad way, that I was to ride to Low — now — and pick up Dr. Geggie. The doctor would arrive on the 6 o'clock train.

By this time the blizzard was in full fury. I had no time to seek another conveyance. So, with the Clydes hitched to the bobsled, I tore off on our three mile ride to Low. Once there, we took shelter in an open shed owned by Jack Noonan, the storekeeper, until the train arrived.

Dr. Geggie appeared, muffled up to his glasses with the high collar of his overcoat and his fur hat pulled down. Without a word he jumped onto the flat deck of the bobsled and off we went. Right into the teeth of the blizzard. We were standing up, I holding the lines and Dr. Geggie clutching my shoulder with one hand and holding on to his bag with the other. Up and down hills and gullies we galloped along the Fieldville Road. My eyes became encrusted with ice crystals and I could hardly see. There was nothing to see anyway. We were enveloped in pounding clouds of snow. I knew Dr. Geggie would be as blind as a bat because of his crusted glasses. However, I trusted the Clydes. They knew the way home.

At the house, Dr. Geggie rushed upstairs, without ceremony. In no time, he came down and demanded all the coal-oil lamps be sent up. We even took up several stable lanterns. All through the night, the family and I sat around the old “Prince of Wales" stove, drinking dozens of cups of green tea, while the wind howled and roared outside.

As daylight crept in, Dr. Geggie joined us. He looked, and was, very tired. Someone gave him a hot cup of tea. The mother was saved, to live for many years. The baby was lost.

As long as I live, I will have fond memories of this great Canadian. I often tell my children, “l knew a real doctor!".

P.S. On a crisp winter's day, I imagine I see and hear a little mare with jingling bells, gliding over the frozen snow, on a mission of mercy — and a fur-clad figure sitting in the cutter with his head held high.

This article was contributed by Alfred O 'Hanlon who now lives in North Battleford, Saskatchewan. All the places mentioned are ‘Up the Gatineau’, north of Wakefield, Que., where Dr. Geggie lived.


Volume 7 table of content.

Return to List of articles