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T h e Bread Lady - P a rt II The following was written by Vincent Hernandez and is about his life with his mother during the late 1930's on Hollyburn Mountain where she ran a small bakery. She was known locally as "the Bread Lady." Part I appeared in the Spring Edition of "Memories". St. Anthony's Church,and over two hours to return. Since we would take communion we did not eat until after Mass, the rule in those days. My aunt Weash and Uncle Harry (Milner) who lived at Twenty Fourth and Ottawa, would always take pity on us and invite us back for breakfast. I well remember the wonderfully delicious bacon and eggs we had at their place. I don't believe order and had it delivered to my aunt's house. The really tough trips up the mountain were the times when we needed more bread flour. Then it was my job to carry all the groceries. A week's supply of food weighed about thirty-five or forty pounds, which I found to be plenty heavy by the time we reached our cabin. My mother, a fairly small woman about five feet four inches tall and weighing about one hundred and thirty pounds, carried the flour - a ninety eight pound sack of it! If you don't think a hundred pounds is very heavy, just try carrying it uphill on your back for a couple of hours. I remember one time when a young man, hiking briskly up the trail, caught up to us and kindly offered to carry my mother's pack for a ways. We found a stump to rest it on to make the transfer, and when he leaned forward and straightened up, the full weight hit him. He staggered, grunted, and his eyes bulged. He manfully made his way up the trail about half a mile to another stump where he just had to give up and return the load to my mother. I suspect he was very careful to avoid us on the trail from then on. For us, wintertime on the mountain was the best time. There was snow and we could ski, there were more customers to buy baking, and we could even rent out accommodations, on a part- Our two main resident customers were the ski lodges. They would buy, among other things, coffee rings, which they would cut up and sell in sections to hungry skiers. My job was delivery boy. I would put about twelve loaves of bread into a pack on a Trapper Nelson packboard with coffee rings carefully placed on top, and took off on my weekly routes which included the two ski lodges and some private cabins. West Lake Ski Lodge was my favourite destination. They bought the most loaves of bread,so when I left there my pack would be substantially lighter. Also, and more importantly, if Fred Jones HoUyburn Cabin # 1 6 6 "Skiesta", 194? was there he would give me my 1174. WVA.HHS.TAP choice of a chocolate bar from their display. As I approached the breakfasts have ever tasted lodge with my load I used to pray - better. "Let it be Fred! Let it be Fred! " After breakfast, or somewhat Speaking of praying, my mother later, we would face the tiring was a very religious person. In trek back up the mountain with religion, as in most other things in the next week's supply of her life, moderation was not a big groceries on our backs. Since the concern. Being staunch Roman stores were not open on Sundays Catholics, we of course went to in those days, I am not clear as to church every Sunday, even how we got them. There was a though it was a good hour and a telephone at the ski lodge half hike down the mountain to perhaps my mother phoned in the