THE DOMINION GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY

Field Station 24 needed a surface to lay out maps and plans as well as to eat and drink upon, so rather than wait 18 months for a table ordered from the Sears & Roebuck Catalogue, we built one out of empty expedition crates.

the full table top

Over time, all the Founders of the Dominion Geographic Society have left their mark upon the table… as well as all sorts of other marks. Tobacco and lantern kerosene burns included.

Cole Halley-Burton’s signature and expedition notes.

Professor Davis P. Beache’s plank

Professor Beache’s name appears on the edge of a plank which includes a coin and boasts a few bullet holes from some action at his Field Station.

Another of Beache’s planks containing two more bullet holes and evidence of a fire.

Some famous and infamous guests have left a records of meetings with the DGS, including this braggart and his young daughter.

Essential Equipment

Icebox Bob sent us a stamped brass plaquette to adorn our table.

Those who have been unable to meet at Field Station 24 have sent mementos of their expedition participations and Society membership.

The table also has its secrets.

Any and all visitors to Field Station 24, in Calgary, are welcome to add their mark to The DGS Founders Table. Consider it an invitation.

Vandal!

Dr. Angharad Llywelyn, Lady Kat Sable, Robert MacTavish, Capt. A.E. Sable, J.A. Irvine investigating cult activity along the Red Deer River.

Cole Halley-Burton gives the all-clear, MacTavish, being a proper engineer disagrees with his assessment and stays behind with Dr. Llywelyn.

“It hasn’t collapsed yet, right?”

J.A. Irvine spots the reported standing icons.

A strange totem!

This pathway had an eerie, unsettling feeling that caused Kat to immediately return to base camp. Dr. Llywelyn had broken a toe, her third in total within a few days, and met Kat at the camp.

Obviously a cult!

The sound of the howling wind made for uneasy investigation.

Haunting assemblies.

The totems were almost beyone counting and extended a vast distance. But what is their purpose?! Who put them here?

Coin offerings were made to many of the totems, over a long period of time.

They mock our efforts to understand.

Dinosaur figurines glued to a large vertebrae. Madness!

“For God’s sake, Sable! Whatever you do, DON’T TOUCH THEM!”

A classic Goddess effigy.

He may have cursed us all.

“I think we’re being watched!”, Irvine whispered.

We returned to the bridge and made our own offering. Not out of superstition, but rather that it felt like the right thing to do.

We’ll take our notes and recollections back and try to come to a consenus about what’s happening in the region, and perhaps plan a return to catch cult activity in action.

Photos by A.E. Sable, J.A. Irvine, Stephen Campbell, & Dees Lees

There we were, at Maclean Creek, and what struck me this trip was the incredible fresh quality of the air this excursion. It made both Foster and I feel invigorated and extremely alert. In fact, I’d felt so rejuvenated, I felt I could could see more clearly without my spectacles!

I heard a loud flapping as the sound shutters would make in a storm, and turned to see its source.

Foster said it looked like an eagle to him, but it most certainly was not.

“Yes, I know it was eagle SIZED, but it was clearly moth shaped! Eagle don’t have antennae.” I paused a moment, “You should be nervous. Almost everything you’re wearing is wool. No camp fires tonight.” I drew my pistol, but the creature didn’t return.

Foster left ahead of me and, for a long while, I watched the sky and listened, hearing only the roar of the creek and gentle blowing of the trees.

I arrived at camp to Foster boiling water over a blazing camp fire.

“Blast! I said NO FIRES! We need to douse this out expeditiously!!”

Foster protested he wanted cocoa before turning in and he didn’t see the harm.

“You can have your cocoa later! Moths are attracted to fire!”

Without warning, what indeed turned out to be a curiously large moth dropped upon me from the sky, knocking me into the creek!

“Damn you, Foster.”

I most assuredly did scream as the especially heavy insect crawled up my body heading for my hat! Within moments, my hat was eaten and the moth turned its attention to Foster. He ran down the creek bank, howling as the chattering bug pursued him.

I pealed off two shots from my pistol, hitting nothing substantial. I put my spectacles on, aimed again, and hit the moth in the bottom, as it continued to chew at Foster’s tunic. The fourth shot stung it enough that it fluttered away, leaving Foster completely naked except for a layer of fine dust.

“That settles it, Foster. Next time we’re out here, we’re bringing a crate of moth balls.”

-Capt. A.E. Sable