Just go

Shortly after we moved here I was given two sage pieces of advice for living on the North Coast by a long-time Rupertite:

1) Always attach the lid to your garbage can with some sort of line or else it will disappear quickly in the wind on stormy garbage days

2) If it's nice out, GO!  Don't wait, don't delay.  You never know what the weather will be like later and if you squander a sunny day, you'll regret it.

It was number two I was thinking of as I stood outside on the most gloriously sunny Remembrance Day I've ever experienced.  I had planned on working that afternoon following the ceremony at the cenotaph, but it was so exquisite out that I quickly abandoned that well-intentioned idea.  Instead, I traded my laptop for a paddle and headed out with a few friends for a couple of hours on the harbour.

It's not that the Prince Rupert harbour is the most scenic paddle; industry, cargo ships, and the Port predominate the view, but there is still nothing nicer than being on the water on a calm, sunny day.  We headed across the water to Digby Island to stretch our legs and explore a bit before heading back as the sun was setting.

As daylight has become a precious commodity now that we are so close to solstice, and drizzly, stormy days are more the norm, these memories and taking advantage of good weather adventures are increasingly valuable.  I spent the sunny moments this weekend inside working on Christmas gifts and I've regretted since it started raining yesterday.  Still much to learn, including always heed the rule: When it's sunny, just go...

I remember, I remember, I remember.

Heading into Northwest Community College last week, I went to open the front door and felt the breath go out of me.

Geneviève Bergeron.   

The name was pasted to the glass.  Seeing it gave me that kind of gut feeling you sometimes have when you glimpse a long lost love or read a name of a long-passed person that was special to you.  Breathlessness.

Down the hall there were more names: Hélène Colgan, Nathalie Croteau, Barbara Daigneault, Anne-Marie Edward, Maud Haviernick, Maryse Laganière, Maryse Leclair, Anne-Marie Lemay, Sonia Pelletier, Michèle Richard, Annie St-Arneault, Annie Turcotte, Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz.

I remember, I remember, I remember, I repeat under my breath.

Fourteen women, none of whom I knew, cause tears to come to my eyes every December. 

I was 9 years old when they were separated from their male classmates, lined up and shot or hunted down in the halls of  École Polytechnique in Montreal.  Their killer was a man whom I don’t care to name who blamed “feminists” for the shortcomings in his life.

7 years after their murder I attended a memorial at the college in New Westminster where I grew up with other high school classmates to remember this tragedy.  To call to action the end of violence against women.  I was asked to lay a rose when they read out Genevieve’s name.  It was the first time I really contemplated this issue. 

It is now 25 years later and the issue of violence against women has been on my mind more than ever before.  It’s not simply the big news stories that have been dominating the media in 2014: the Ghomeshi allegations and the Ray Rice incident.  Living in the north, this issue is bigger and scarier than I've ever realized. 

From 1969-2011 at least 18 women have gone missing or were found murdered along the 800 kilometre length of highway 16 - the so-called Highway of Tears.  Some estimate the number of victims may be closer to 40.

In September, Canada’s youngest serial killer, Cody Legebokof was convicted of murdering four women in the North: Loren Donn Leslie, Jill Stacey Stuchenko, Cynthia Frances Maas and Natasha Lynn Montgomery. 

The list of names adds up.  I try hard to remember.

I wish I had the answer.  I wish there was a quick prescription to write for a more equal, compassionate, safe society.  There isn’t.  I do know, however, that our governments are not taking this issue seriously.  Two years after the Missing Women’s Commission in B.C. said offering safe, accessible transportation along the Highway of Tears was an urgent recommendation which should be implemented immediately, there is still no shuttle.  According to our local MLA, Jennifer Rice, instead the B.C. Liberals have made a webpage of transportation resources including limo services.  This is almost laughable.  Likewise, our federal government has refused to hold an inquiry into the shameful national issue of missing and murdered aboriginal women in Canada.

But beyond our governments, we all have a role to play in not only contributing to an equal and safe society for women, but in continuing the conversation about violence. Keep talking about it, friends.  Keep talking and thinking and working.

It may be clicktivism, but each year on Dec 6^th, I copy Genevieve’s name and those of her 13 other classmates into the status bar of my facebook account, if to do nothing more than say :

I remember, I remember, I remember. 

25 years has passed.  We have to do better. 

here fishy fishy

Visit the north coast and you will learn this:  People around here live to fish.  They fish for their livelihood, they fish for fun.  They wake up at the crack of dawn, fight swell, walk streams with fresh bear tracks, stand in the rain, and spend hours just waiting and hoping all in order to fish.

Before moving here my fishing pinnacle was in first year university when I won a rod and tackle box in the Annual UNBC Outdoor Club ice fishing derby.  Don't be impressed.  I used a stick I found in the bush, borrowed a weight, hook, and some bait from a friend, dropped my line and wandered off to drink beer (because let's be honest, that is what ice fishing is actually about).  The whole catching the second largest fish part was done with zero skill, effort or intention.

Full disclosure: I use that tackle box to store beads to this day.

It's not that I don't like fishing, I just never really sought out the opportunity to do it, even when living in fish-centric places like the north island.  But here it seems different.  It seems ingrained in people.  It's what people talk about.  Canning salmon is a social event. Heck, I even experienced my first fish road-blocks this year.  Twice.  And yes, it's exactly what is sounds like,  a police (actually Fisheries Officer) check point along the highway where instead of checking if you're drunk, they are looking at the legality of what you've caught.

Ty had a couple days out in Chatham Sound this summer so our freezer, while by no means 'full' compared to many people here, has a small stockpile that I am more than thrilled with.  We also got out onto some of the smaller rivers that feed into the Skeena to fish this fall as well. There is something almost meditative about quietly casting and reeling your line in and out as the river rushes by. Cast. Reel. Cast. Reel.Then that meditative moment is shattered by the burst of adrenaline when you have a fish on. I am slowly trying to learn not to shriek like a high-pitched banshee every time this happens (likely this will take me years to actually master, I am nothing if not excitable).

While I am still most definitely a fishing novice, a few weeks ago, I  found myself discussing rivers and runs at a party over beer.  The north coast may just make a fisherwoman out of me yet.

forage

There is not much that is more satisfying than growing or harvesting your own food.   Delicious food, for FREE.  I love free.  Sadly, this year, our garden was pretty much non-existant.  Due to moving right during prime planting/growing season, all we got done was some seeds in containers.  Besides some mutant carrots and a bit of lettuce, nothing else did well at all.  Grand plans are in the works for next year's garden, but for this year, I needed to get my free food fix by doing a little wild foraging.

I'll admit that I was more than a little disappointed when I realized that there were very few blackberries on the north coast. I know, I know, they're invasive, but a delicious version of invasive (so therefore more acceptable in my eyes).  I love blackberries and picking them reminds me of days on Saturna and in Point Roberts when I was wee.  Plus, blackberry pie?  I mean, come on, most delish by far.

Get in my bucket!

The lack of blackberries, however, was happily made up for by the plenitude of blueberries that can be found in the north.  A few weeks ago, I ventured up Shames Mountain (the local ski hill, just outside of Terrace), for an afternoon of picking with some friends.  The whole hillside was full of blueberries and huckleberries just ready to be plucked. Big bonus with blueberries: no thorns.

Mini-forager and scenes from the mountainside.

It seemed like it was going to be a daunting task, but once you got into it, it was a bit addictive.  More berries!

Blueberry picking, however, is more labour intensive.  They're so small so a lot of effort is needed to fill up a bucket.  Luckily, picking them is a bit addictive.  You keep seeing more bushes and more berries that just seem to be begging to be picked, that it's hard to tear yourself away. After a solid couple of hours, we all had full buckets to bring home.  Well, almost all of us. The 2 year old member of our picking party would diligently pick a berry, put it in her bucket, and then immediately snatch it  out to eat it at once.  She probably ate her weight in berries that day. Too cute.

Free food is gooooooood.

Full buckets at the end of the day

Yum.  Free is so good.

PS.  If I was in Vancouver, I'd go do this awesome foraging day with Museum Eats.  So you should go do it for me. :)

crater

Labour Day felt like it came far too quickly this year. Before I knew it, summer was over and here we were at the season's last hurrah.  A final long weekend.  Unfortunately, Ty and I were at odds on how to use this last slice of summer.  He wanted to stay home and work on the (bloody) house, I wanted to take off (irresponsibly) for as much time as possible.  In the end, like the boring adults we are becoming, we compromised and on Saturday morning, admist a soggy North Coast downpour, we took off for Anhluut’ukwsim Laxmihl Angwinga’asanskwhl Nisga’a  (a.k.a. Nisga’a Memorial Lava Bed Park) for the day with Ty's sis. 

The Visitor's Centre at the Park 

Ever since we first visited this part of the Nass Valley at the end of our Easter road-trip, I had been itching to go back and explore some more. Read about our first trip here.  It's almost otherwordly beauty really blew me away and when I learned you could hike to the crater of the volcano that caused the massive lava bed now visible, I was determined to visit.  

Turquoise creeks near the Visitor's Centre

To visit the crater, you must take a guided hiking tour.  Many people I've told about our trip have admitted to being turned off by this, either not wanting to pay money or not wanting to use a guide, they've decided against the trip. I can understand that feeling, but on the other hand, the area is not only sensitive ecologically, but also culturally, so ensuring people are using the area respectfully is much easier when visitors are monitored by a guide.  The guide is a local with great knowledge of the area and Nisga'a culture, so the whole hike was so augmented by his interpretation on everything from geomorphology, the effect of the eruption on the Nisga'a people, flora and fauna, to the Nisga'a treaty  In other words: fork over the (not so substantial) money and just do it.  

The hike really is not difficult, but it sure is pretty.  After a very bumpy drive in the very tiny truck of our guide, we arrived at the trailhead.  After a quick briefing and welcome in Nisga'a language by our guide Steve, we began.  Descending through some lush second and then first growth, the ground under your feet becomes a bit crunchy as you begin to tromp on thin soil over layers of volcanic ash. Steve stopped to tell us stories about wildlife in the area and the trees around us.  

Trail.  So. Green. 

Volcanic mud in the streambeds.

The creeks appeared to be running with milk due to the silty runoff.

Soon, we began to notice black volcanic mud around the creek beds, which were eerily flowing with what looked like milk (apparently they'd been dry all summer long and had just began to flow again due to the recent rains, hence the silty, milky looking runoff).  After a short time, we exited the tree canopy into the awesome lava landscape that the park is known for.  Around us, black jagged rocks were covered in all manner of lichens and moss. According to our guide Steve, the cover of lichens had grown exponentially in recent years and more and more vascular plants are taking hold as well.  

Lichen Love. 

The trail on the lava beds.

A volcanic cone.  It is so well-insulated that ice remained in the bottom despite the warm summer.

I'll admit that when we got to the crater, it was a little anticlimatic..mostly because there is no boiling lava or steam, which is totally logical when you realize this volcano erupted over 2 centuries ago.  Sitting on the lip, however, Steve shared some of his smoked salmon and explained how the eruption happened, the terrifying effect on the communities below (over 2000 people perished) and showed us the various types of rock that exploded from this very crater. Some, dubbed 'bombs', are incredibly heavy, while others are as light as styrofoam due to gases expelled and trapped during the eruption.  

The crater.

Three types (and weights) of volcanic rock.  The 'bomb' is on the right.

The trail is a there-and-back, so you retrace your steps on return.  It's another opportunity to notice the beautiful little microcosms growing out of the lava and to contemplate the severity of this event on the people and landscape. It also gave us more opportunity to chat with Steve about his community and his perspectives on current Nisga'a politics. 

It was a great way to spend a chunk of the day and I'd definitely highlight a visit to the Nass Valley to any potential north coast visitors.  On top of this beauty little hike, there are hot springs, a lovely museum, and some gorgeous drives in the area.  Steve even told us about a resident Spirit bear that can sometimes be spotted just outside the entrance to the park!!!  There is much more I'd like to see in the area, so I am sure we'll be back. If you want to visit yourself, learn more about the park here.

PS.  I fully acknowledge that my posts are too long, with too many photos.  But...SO PRETTY, ya know?

digby 3.0: toads, treasures and toddlers

The little guy striding oh so confidently in the photo above?  That's e.  He is one of my best friends.  And yes, he is two and a half.

E came to Rupert to visit early in the summer with his parents, two more of my bestest friends.  It was amazing to have them here and show them our new home. However, the tricky part about being a non-parent and having kiddos come to visit is that you aren't really sure what to do with them.  Can a toddler go kayaking?  How far can they hike?  How often do they nap?  Can you take them to the pub? (Note: probably a bad idea to take a toddler kayaking in very cold waters if you, yourself aren't a pro-star kayaker...they can't hike that far, so bring some sort of baby-backpack to carry them in...they need to nap for a few hours each day- factor that in...and apparently soon you can take kids to a pub- win).

 Luckily, e is awesome and hilarious and his parents are super easy-going, so they were up for pretty much anything. Their visit was definitely one of the highlights of the summer, and my most favorite day of our time together was the one we all spent on Digby Island.

This was Ty and I's third visit to Digby.  I love it over there.  The first time we hiked across the top (see here) and the second we explored a few of the smaller trails and the bewitching and likely haunted old Doctor's house (see here).  Knowing that the trails out of Dodge Cove were easy and toddler friendly, we decided to gamble on missing e's nap for a day and headed out there again.

Getting to Digby is pretty easy.  West Coast Launch runs a water taxi service on Saturdays that leaves Rupert at noon and will pick you up on the other side just after 5.  The ride over takes about 15 minutes and gives you a good look at the Rupert harbour.  Five hours is more than enough time to do a few of the shorter trails, hang out on the beach, have a picnic and say hello to some of the Dodge Cove locals (so friendly and sweet!).

We took e on the CBC Hill trail, which is a fantastic "hike" (not really a hike) for a little one.  In late June/early July when we were there, there were hoards of small western toads all over the first section of trail!  Toddlers LOVE toads, especially if you're willing to catch a few for them to look at up close.  Honestly, I think the highlight of e's entire trip to Rupert was when a (likely terrified) toad peed on my hand after I'd caught it.  We probably spent close to an hour doing a section of trail that should have taken no longer than 15 or 20 minutes because we were constantly stopping to watch hopping toads.

Further along, the residents of Dodge Cove have dotted the pretty trail with all sorts of treasures.  Early on, there are little middens of beach glass, moon snail shells, and a few beach-cast finds.  As you enter into the more wooded section, someone has placed all sorts of small toys (of the Happy Meal variety) in nooks and crannies among the trees and moss.

These little hidden toys are total toddler gold.  While placing small, plastic toys in such a pretty natural environment may seems sort of icky, it's actually more whimsical than anything else.  E loved it and was so excited after each "treasure" he found.  We, again, had to stop regularly so he could look and hold each one before placing it back in it's spot.

Of course, we added in some beach stops to picnic and play about.  Another toddler discovery: throwing rocks = endless amusement.  I had also bought a cheap-o bug catching kit at the Dollar Store, which proved to be a hit.  We imprisoned a few snails and flies for a short time before releasing them back into the undergrowth.

E was well worn out by the end of the day, but withstood forgoing the nap like a champ.  He even had enough energy for one last foot race with Ty on the road back to the water taxi.

working coast

"Oh, the gallant fisher’s life, it is best of any, ‘tis full of pleasure, void of strife, and 

‘tis beloved of many"

--From Piscator’s Song, found in Izaak Walton’s The Compleat Angler

Walton wrote these words in 1653 about fly fishing in Britain. Somehow though, 361 years later and half a world away, it still seemed a fitting quote for these photos. I know full well that being a fisherman is no longer a life "void of strife", but while I watched this seiner work in the mouth of Portland Inlet last month, the joyful side of being a fisherman was so evident. The crew repeatedly waved and gave us the thumbs up as they brailed in their huge set. Contrary to the concentrated looks on their faces in these photos, they were mostly smiles, almost showing off as we watched for a moment.

The days of 40 million salmon being landed in B.C. sometimes seem as far away as Walton's 17th century England. This year, however, with strong returns, there was an active fishery up and down the province. Weaving between gillnetters and passing seiners while working on the water this July allowed me just a hint of what salmon season must have once been like along this working coast.