Watching for Our Friends

The first grizzly I ever saw was eating sedges in the spring, by a waterfall in Green Inlet. At first we didn’t notice her, just a light brown lump that was there for a long time – but then we saw it move. We realized she was a she when we saw her in the same place the next year and watched her peeing. We called her Ms. Grizz. She was in sad shape this time, patches of fur seemed to be just growing back from an injury, and she was very thin. Again she was concentrating on eating her sedges.

I have a new song this season. It came to me after listening to the sound track from O Brother Where Art Thou. I got the song in my head (to the beat of the windshield wipers) by the young gospel-singing sisters that starts “In the highways and the hedges…” My song goes “On the mud flats, in the sedges…” Mud flats are the rich areas where river estuaries meet the sea; sedges are the bright green, tall grass-like plant that is 30% protein in the spring. Bear habitat. The gospel song goes on “I’ll be somewhere a’ working for my Lord.” Mine goes “we’ll be somewhere watching for our friends. It’s not so much that I used an old tune for a new song - to me it’s the same song, with a different way of describing the Creator and how to connect.

Each of us on board expressed our own version of awe during a brief encounter with a mother grizzly and her 2 cubs on a First Nations-site beach in Return Channel. Through our binoculars the shoreline changed from scenery to someone’s home, the breakfast room for a heart warming family.

On May 22 we were headed into Green Inlet Marine Park to one of our favourite tucked in little anchorages, Horsefly Cove, looking out for Ms Grizz. Last summer Thomas saw her with a tiny dark cub. As we approached this time, something didn’t feel right. Logs everywhere. There are log booms all over the cove, and around past the waterfall creek and sedges that grizzlies love.

Little Marian Islet and Heather Reef, named after young guests our first summer sailing in 1999, were covered with logs.

Green Inlet Marine Park is proudly described in our “Coastal Marine Parks of British Columbia” brochure. You hear about agreements to protect Princess Royal Island and its white Kermode bears, but here is Green Inlet, just across Tolmie channel from Princess Royal, already a Marine Park, full of log booms. Who could we report this to, and how? We are far from telephone or Internet access. What can we do?

Well, we had to make the best of it. We tied to a log boom, with a hemlock Christmas tree just outside the cockpit. No chance of wildlife now. But looking across our log boom tie to the sedges by the waterfall, after a while out comes Ms Grizz and her 2 fine year-old cubs. The sedges were just right, and we watched them munch away through our supper and on past our bedtime. Irony. How will our grizzly friends fare with today’s logging?
Ms. Grizz is munching on the left of the old log, her two cubs are on the right.

Lunch in Bella Bella

BELLA BELLA, May 17,07
We always stop at the Bella Bella Band Store to replenish the boat stores. They have the best (almost only) selection of groceries and supplies between Port McNeil and Prince Rupert. I happened to see a sign about a luncheon by donation in support of the young people going to the Indigenous Games in 2008.
I asked “When is it?”
“Right about now.”
So for lunch I had perfectly cooked halibut, wonderful salmon, herring row layered with seaweed and cut into little dainty cubes, deep fried halibut, salmon mashed potatoes, carrot salad, seafood fried rice, and more. Thomas had a big slice of ham with his. Chocolate cupcakes for dessert. We could hardly walk out the door of Darby United Church. We did discover that the new minister, Cornelia van Bentum was away in Germany at her father’s funeral.

Across the street is the school and kids were returning to classes after lunch. People everywhere, always a smiling chunky baby being passed from auntie to auntie. A great part-St. Bernard was lying down in a patch of grass, lazily chomping a large hunk of meat and bone.
“And a great lunch was had by all.” quoth the Skipper.

The Sustainable Coast

As we travel on La Sonrisa, we research and explore possibilities of "The Sustainable Coast Project". Here is Thomas' introduction to what we want to write and find out more about.

INTRODUCTION

The tide goes out. The tide comes in again.
It is not the end of the world.
- Terry Glavin

Twelve thousand years ago (give or take) the ice began to recede. The sea rose, the land settled, and from their ice-age refugia in Haida Gwaii came salmon, that pioneering species which would once again populate every possible stream and river, bringing the incredible richness of ocean to a land in the process of rebuilding.

And from the fastness of interior Siberia came a people, moving east and then south, on both sides of the Pacific Rim, a people who knew that to survive they must live in sustainable community. By 10,000 years ago they had reached Gwaii Hanaas and Namu.

Finally, as the climate warmed, from the south--mile by mile migrating northward--came cedar. When these three met: salmon—fresh, dried, smoked—the staff of life; cedar, with its rich, weather-resistant oils and its inner bark that could be twisted into twine and woven into cloth, easily split, easily shaped; and a people who knew that to survive they must live in sustainable community. When these three met, the Northwest Coast culture was born.

Salmon, cedar and First Nations people are representative species. Salmon represent all the life of ocean. Cedar represents all the life of land. The First Nations people represent all who are blessed by life on this Coast.

Even more, they are indicator species. To the extent that salmon are threatened, all life in the ocean is threatened. To the extent that cedar is threatened, all life on land is threatened. To the extent that the First Nations are threatened, all human community on the Coast is threatened.

And, of course, this is exactly what has happened. All three species have been, or are very close to being, threatened.

Others have written of the decimation of fish stocks and the wanton slaughter of sea creatures; of the stripping of minerals, the mining of forests and the degradation of once life-giving waterways; of the decimation of the First Nations peoples, the destruction of their culture and the subsequent depopulation of the Coast. Others have written of the bad news. But is there not any good news? Are there no signs of new life? Is there no hope?

The Sustainable Coast Project seeks the good news, the signs of new life. Here and there, often only in minor and partial ways, new life is happening. And often, as we are discovering, it is new/old life. It is the insights and sometimes even the technology of the old ways that are giving birth to the new.

In judging the sustainability of this new life, we have used a three-fold criterion. The new life must be
- sustainable ecologically,
- viable economically, if only in a very modest way (people, after all, have to make a living),
- and supportive of continuing community.

The Sustainable Coast Project is a beginning exploration into some of these new/old possibilities. We offer, in story and description, these possibilities as hope models.

Those who lived through the ferment of the 1960s and 70s, a time in Canada when many believed we could build a just society, will remember the importance of hope models. Hope models demonstrate that it can be done. They keep alive the dream. As social activists are only too aware, hope is the one absolutely essential ingredient of social change.

So this is a modest book about a mighty hope. And perhaps there will be a second volume….
The tide goes out. The tide comes in again.
It is not the end of the world.


Sources: Terry Glavin, The Last Great Sea (Greystone, 2000).

To contact us send an email to elizabeale@yahoo.ca. To find out about La Sonrisa sailing charters see the April 30 post, Welcome to La Sonrisa.

Crossing Queen Charlotte Sound

This is the kind of morning we hope for to cross the Sound. We had some wind against us , but not too strong. We left at daybreak from Kalect Island Cove on Hope Island, just off the north of Vancouver Island.

KALECT ISLAND COVE

This cove is one of our favourite anchorages. The island is an ancient First Nations site, and you can sometimes feel spirits or some kind of connection with what has been before. We have some great memories here - yoga on the steep, smooth pebble beach with Katharine and Ted, watching the sea otter float past the boat on his back with a crab on his stomach, otter eating crab biting otter. And collecting limpets with deacon Dave, who moved almost as slowly as they, among the marvels of a very low tide beach.


This picture shows some of my Kalect Island treasures from this year. The most aromatic daffodils – from whose garden bulbs gone wild, and prolific? Abalone has become almost extinct on this coast, I have never seen one. But the mink sure have. Thomas and I found these abalone shells all over the island, and each of us had a conversation with one of these quick and fearless little mink at either end of the beach. Hanging above my flowers is a butterfly shell, from a chiton of another summer’s collecting. Thomas found 2 of them for me on Kalect Island and I boiled them up to remove the shells inside. Says my book on shells, “The giant Pacific chiton has the appearance of a wandering meatloaf but do not be deceived. The common name gumboot chiton gives a clue to the toughness of the chiton’s meat.”


What the picture doesn’t show is the dug up patches of midden, looking like an archeological dig. Someone is searching the past on this spot, maybe it’s about finding strength in their roots, and we hope they will find something to grace the present in this beautiful place.

Orcas in Fitzhugh Sound

The famous golden Dungeness of Codville Lagoon


TIME TO GROW FOOD

While we were in Namu we planted seeds for the garden bed in Crippen Cove. The coming of the sun for a few days (and wind from the wrong sailing direction keeping us still) got us inspired. The boat feels wonderful with plants growing everywhere. I’m perusing a little book from the 60’s "The Secret Life of Plants". Cutting edge new age insights about the wonder of plants – how much we can learn from and communicate with them. It’s all true, you know.

Planting seeds, collecting, transplanting and drying supervised by
Elizabeth the boat doll and Thomas the sailor dog.

You should see what they grow in a floating greenhouse tied to the Namu dock! They make soil from starfish and sawdust. She’s got orange plastic tape around plants from Namu’s past, to save them from demolition as a road to the lake goes in. Imagine the interesting plants the many different ethnic groups grew when Namu was their home.
Prize Cherry tree
Peach trees

We're able to post this thanks to the folks in Ocean Falls who've set up internet access. To read more about this interesting community determined to continue living in this beautiful place go to http://www.oceanfalls.org

Website: www.oceanfalls.org

Echo Bay School Coffeehouse

When we arrived at Echo Bay, Carol the Bead Lady invited us to the
CoffeeHouse at the one-room school. Here La Sonrisa is anchored by the
school dock. We have often passed the school walking to Billy Proctor's
place but this was our first visit. What a joy to be part of this special
gathering. There was a moment, listening to their music, when I felt
like we were in the middle of many peoples' dreams come true. Keeping
the school open is a major challenge. There are now the minimum required
7 students, 2 are part-time with correspondence. Dreams include families
with children finding a way to live in Echoe Bay!

We once tried to convince Cosmo and Susan to consider a particular house
for sale, hoping the right person would come to live near Billy Proctor
and his wisdom. And guess what?! The Salmon Coast Research Centre has
arrived. Young scientists from Simon Fraser and the University of
Alberta are working on graduate degrees, some excellent research on sea
lice, while bringing uplifting energy to this very special place. Here
are some scientists as entertainers:

Echo Bay School is one of the last one-room schools
left on the coast. Iris Griffith was a student here at one time - I
wonder how much has changed. The kids seem to be getting a great
education - having a regular coffee house is teacher Alana's effort to
give them a chance to practice public speaking, and time for the whole
community to gather.

Student Poets

Singing Japanese national anthem.


Carol the Bead Lady tells a Nannabush story from her Cree heritage.

Everyone joins the marching band.

And every Friday, weather permitting, there is a soccer match between the
school kids and the Research Centre students.

Echo Bay is an amazing place in the Broughton Archepelago. Just
getting through the maze of islands and interesting currents over to
this part of the mainland is a challenge. The folks who keep this
community alive and magical - they're something else!

Carol the Bead Lady and husband Jerry's home on Chechako Lady,
with workshops and gardens.

A neat couple we met at Carol's craft shop can be found here:
"http://www.canoeacrosscanada.ca"

Information about La Sonrisa Charters is on our first post, April 30,
Welcome to La Sonrisa. You can email us at elizabeale@yahoo.ca

New Life on the Coast

A refreshing bath at Irene's before we head north across the rapids. First stop Ed' place

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle: The Hermit of Nameless Bay

At first glance it might seem odd to be writing of one who has chosen to live alone in a section entitled: Sustainable Community. But the hermits of the Northwest Coast have a long and honourable history as an important part of the larger coastal community. And anyway, sustainable community does not only have to do with other people!

Ed Zeemel first came to the Coast in 1969, having finished a 5-year hitch in the navy. Like hundreds of other young people that summer, he was drawn to the rolling surf and shining sands of Long Beach, Tofino. Over the next decade or so he worked on the oil rigs, in the Arctic, Middle East, North Sea. But the Coast called, and finally Ed “retired” for a while, wandering the inlets and channels of the mid-Coast in his 30-foot sailboat.

While operating a new and used tool store in North Van in the early ‘90s, Ed purchased the motor barge Wild Card. In 1996 he headed north, back to the inlets he loved. Anchoring for the night in the “unnamed bay” east of Tuna Point and north of Mary Island, Ed discovered that the float shack that had long occupied the bay was gone. He decided to stay.

Wild Card needed some work on her bottom. Hauling in some timbers he had found on the beach around the corner, Ed constructed a cradle. She felt pretty good up on the high-tide line, except when the cruise ships went by in Johnstone Strait. So he constructed a rock and log breakwater. And thus the building projects began.

Ed discovered that if he did a little bit, nature would do a lot, instructing him as he went along. He took out the downed trees and branches, opening up the forest so that the berry bushes would grow. He filled the holes with forest debris and driftwood from the beach, leveling off areas where you can grow a bit of garden, split some wood, sort and store “gifts from the sea,” or just sit in the early morning or late evening sun. A park-like atmosphere emerged. He dug out the side of a cliff to form a grotto, with a spring-like pool to provide fresh water.

Ed lives alone but never lonely. His neighbours are the otters, the black bears, the birds and the deer. “Mostly we get along,” Ed says. “But like all good neighbours, we have to respect each other’s space. I’m not adverse to putting a pellet from my air rifle into a young bear’s backside when he insists on stealing my apples. One time I cored an apple and filled it with hot pepper. Didn’t see that bear around for a while after that!”

In his projects, Ed uses the wealth of material that floats by his bay or washes up in the southeast gales. “There’s always a use for something,” Ed says. “If not now, later.”

Ed's rain gear.

Some hermits desire privacy and appreciate others respecting that. Not so Ed Zeemel. One of his projects is to carve out kayaker camping spots above the tide line in his bay. Another project, using driftwood from the beach and brush from the forest, is to reclaim the eroded shoreline so that grass will grow again. “If the grass comes back, so will the geese,” Ed says. “And if the geese come back, I will die a happy man.”

Compost, seaweed and a little rock re-arranging for Ed's rich garden beds.
The mysterious "O" gardens.

Minstrel Island

Last time we visited Minstrel Island the people who ran the resort, restaurant and fuel dock had gone bankrupt. They had just walked away from mountains of equipment, old buildings and supplies. People were helping themselves to all kinds of things – some of our canning jars come from this historical place. Long before them it was the hub of a populated area at the mouth of Knight Inlet. Another year we walked around the remains of the old school up in woods. I read an account of a couple who ran a successful shingle mill at the other end of Chatham Channel – every time I pass that idyllic spot I wish we could drop in. They were in their 80’s in 1991, stubbornly refusing to follow the others and abandon the life they’d loved. The mom reminisces “The kids went to school at Minstrel Island, five miles there and back alone in their own boat. That’s what turned my hair grey.” I guess those kids would have been my age.

Once there was so much activity at Minstrel Island it was common to see 150 loggers there on Boat Day to meet the freight boat. There was a hotel, school, dance hall, as many as 3 cafes at one time and a lot of bootleggers. The name comes from the once famous minstrel shows – nearby is Negro Rock and Bones Bay. I know it had a rowdy reputation, so when we passed Clapp Passage and Doctor Islets I pulled out the copy of Walbran’s British Columbia Place Names that Josh B gave us. And no, it was Navigating Lieutenant Edward Scobell Clapp – no word about the Doctor Is or Negro Rock.

With all this history of former community life, including the centuries of large populations of Native people, it was heartbreaking to hear that the dismal, crumbling bankrupt remains had gone to some millionaire for a private resort.

Minstrel dock in 2005

IMAGINE OUR SURPRISE when we met people from Mudge Island (beside Gabriola) and 3 friendly dogs. (Big old Sarah, part heeler, who wouldn’t stop licking my hand, must have smelt Cisco.) 4 families from Mudge bid on the 50 acres and buildings. “And here we are, we’re going to enjoy this place!” They plan to start small, they’re building a safe deck around the old house, and the dock where we tied up is in much better shape. Clam digger Dan is going to move his float house over from the fish camp and look after things. Dan seems to know everyone we’re ever heard of around these parts. Hey Will, we found a “local”! They invited us in for prawns, and we promised to frequent their restaurant when they set it up.

You can see the wharfinger dog doing his rounds. They came down to say goodby as we left.

Right now we have this feeling of life coming back to the central coast. We enjoyed meeting Chris and Chris, who are restoring the 100 year-old tug Swan in Billy’s cove. They have gotten involved in the Egmont community and plan to live aboard Swan. We saw the guy on Gospak who helped us right La Sonrisa when she fell over on the tidal grid at Port McNeil a few years ago. He was tied to a string of float shacks, building a new one. And hermit Ed of Nameless Bay had a float shack and former kayak camp float tied up in his cove. Feels like people are finding new energy.