This is the last of the four seasonal stories which will be submitted to Crown Jewels. They are based on true experiences that have occurred to the writer during the past ten years. I hope you have enjoyed reading them.

Oh, how I love the autumn with the bright sunny skies and cool temperatures. The constant rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze and the soft crunch of the drying leaves under boot all add to the sense of a great season. The flies and mosquitoes are long gone by now, so an outing today should be a real pleasure.

I had risen at 6 a.m. and was on the road by 7 a.m. heading to an area only about 100 miles away. A big plus this trip was that I could drive right up to the railway tracks and telegraph line by way of a sometimes still used bush road. What with the lack of rain over the summer, this road was in decent shape and not too badly overgrown with the ever encroaching bush. When I first came to this area, my trip was cut short by a thunderstorm. So I am interested in seeing what I missed then.

With a fully laden pack I commence my search, walking down the center of the tracks with eyes on the nearby poles. Almost everything is covered in a white, glistening frost but this was melting as soon as the sun's rays swept across the land. The constant cracking of the thin ice cover on the water in the ditches makes a surprising amount of noise in the early morning hours. Two years ago, this line had twenty-four circuits strung, but today only four circuits remain. On some poles, all the insulators were left and on others, none but the four active circuits remain. So on the return walk I will have to keep a watch out for grounders under the pole line. The poles regularly pass by as I maintain a three mile per hour pace. Periodically I leave the track bed and walk up to a pole in order to take a closer look at an insulator. It is awful hard to see blot-outs under embossings or period placements on the insulators as some of them are quite dirty, especially where the track curves. When appropriate, I mentally note a pole's location for climbing later. Overtaking and passing a startled porcupine, the pace continues until I come across a railway track repair crew. Deciding to retrace my steps since after several hours of searching the poles, I have spotted only about two insulators that warrant a pole climb for closer examination.

Before my return, I take a break with a muffin and a hot cup of sweet tea. Soon I'm engulfed with a multitude of little yellow butterflies as they slowly work their way south. And I, too, begin the return walk, after putting on my blaze orange hat and vest. It is hunting season here and I don't want to look like some furry creature. Walking under the pole line, I recheck the crossarms and keep an eye out for grounders. The knee high length grass makes searching for the grounders hard. Plus, the now melted frost has made everything wet, including anyone who walks through it. It is only when I accidentally step on an insulator that I find any it seems, and these are all fairly common CNR aquas. I finally climb my first pole and pick a nice blue C.N.R. prism period style. Nearby, one of my earlier replacement insulators, from the first trip, sits gleaming on the pin. It seems so out of place as it is so clean as compared to the others.

The rolling countryside makes walking quite easy and I feel like I am out more for a stroll as compared to some of my search trips. A second pole is hooked and a dark steel-blue/green C.N.R. is retrieved. Just as I touch the ground again, the crack of a high powered rifle shot echoes through the air. On my knees, I freeze, afraid to move. After what seems like ten minutes, I again stand and convince myself that it is again safe to proceed. No hunter is ever seen or heard as I continue down the pole line, but now only one eye is on the crossarms.

In the distance about four poles ahead, my eyes seem instinctively drawn to an insulator. As I approach, it appears like all the others earlier in the morning when covered in frost. But the frost has melted long ago. Now two poles away, I realize it is a milkglass and my pace quickens. Binoculars reveal a CD 143 Standard packed full of milk swirls. It's beautiful sitting there on its pin. On go the hooks and up I again go to very carefully retrieve this new piece.

Back at the car beside the tracks, I am standing amongst the birch and poplars. Soon the freeze up will start and snows will again fall. This day, I know that it will be awhile before I have the opportunity to get out and search for insulators again. It is so hard to describe how this wilderness and the telegraph lines have become such a big part of my life. When I examine many of the 143's on my shelves, pleasant memories of previous search trips come to mind. Sometimes I can remember either the specific pole where a special item was found, or maybe just the physical exertion required on a trip to find a new insulator. But always great memories of these trips, even when in the rain or cold. For me this great hobby has everything.

A big "thank you" to Howie Snyder who has given artistic interpretation to each of the four "Searching for Insulators" articles.