I am now back in my apartment. I am obviously somewhat behind
in my blog postings..... I will continue to discuss my trip in
sequential order.
I suspected that it was going to be a long and sometimes frustrating day. The corner I was stuck at really feels like the middle of nowhere in spite of the fact that there is a church and house on the corner, lots of people walking by and a little bus shelter . I suspect that the narrowness of the road (especially as compared to the highways leading up to and around Whistler) adds to the sense of isolation. It is also one of the few spots in Canada where I feel like a true outsider. I am never really part of the communities I pass thorough, but usually I am not aware that I might not fit in. As mentioned previously there are a number of First Nations Communities in the area. All of the folks who were hitchhiking at the corner were from the local area and they just ignored me. No eye contact, no smiles, no friendly waves. But then there is no reason why they should reach out to me. I am a visitor to their land. Perhaps that is what makes me uncomfortable.
I stood there for hours and hours.The day that had started off being bright and sunny - stayed that way. When there were no vehicles coming I ducked inside the bus shelter to get out of the sun so that I could avoid getting a sunburn and more importantly becoming dehydrated. Cars passed at irregular intervals with at least two thirds of them being driven by local folks just going up the road. Every time a vehicle did pass I had to remember to smile which sometimes seems like a useless exercise as I am not sure if people can see my smile underneath my shaggy mustache. The local bus drove by every hour and more than once I was tempted to flag it down for a ride just to get away from the corner. The driver however never gave any indication that he would stop even if I did flag it down. Maybe there is a rule that I don't know about - hitchhikers can't ride rural buses. Or maybe he just did not want me.
In spite of the sense of isolation there were a couple of events that re-confirmed to me my sense that the world is full of good people. I needed to get more water so I went to the nearest house and asked if I could fill up my jug. The dad who was looking after his four children was gracious- not communicative but gracious and kind. A car which had just picked up a local hitchhiker stopped so that my fellow hitchhiker could pass me a few apples to munch on and a kind lady going the other way stopped to ask me if I was okay. She said that she had seen me a few hours earlier and was worried about me. It is impossible for me to express how such small gestures can make me feel.
By the time it was 9:00, it was clear that I would not get a ride that day. All day I had been looking at various spots along the side of the road as potential sleeping spots. None were very attractive either in terms of some privacy, being level or being reasonable without rocks. I also had some concern over that bear I had seen the year before. The best sleeping spot was right where the bear had left the forest to cross the road.While I might not be the brightest traveller or the most careful, camping near a bear trail sounds particularly stupid. I was not happy about any my choices so I picked up my pack and walked 100 meters down the road and turned at dirt road that I thought might lead to somewhere safer and quieter. Much to my surprise, just after I turned on to the dirt road there was a lovely clearing with lots of flat land and thick grass. At one end there was a pile of long skinny bits of cedar that appeared to be the off-cuts from a small milling operation. It was perfect. I quickly assembled my bivy sack in the near dark, ate one of the apples and got into bed. It had been a long day. I had not gone very far but at least I was on my way and that was good enough.
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #18
I am now back in my apartment. I am obviously somewhat behind
in my blog postings..... I will continue to discuss my trip in
sequential order.
It was a bright hot day. There were a lot of cars on the road. However, most of them were clearly only going a short distance and neither I nor the drivers gave each other much of a look. I am sure than in the space of 30 minutes literally hundreds of cars went by me. There were also a lot of high tech road racing bikes on the road - some which had those fancy solid wheels that one sees at the Olympics - designed, I assume, to be more aerodynamic. The bikes were ridden by guys wearing really weird equally as aerodynamic bike helmets. In the past around Whistler I had noticed a lot of mountain bikes ridden by mainly guys wearing a lot of protective body armour designed, I assumed to protect them from spills as they bounced/sped down the mountain. While both groups rode machines with two wheels there was a considerable difference between the two types of participants. The road racers looked dead serious, they were minimally dressed and were working very hard. The down hill guys were frequently covered in mud and they looked quite relaxed as they biked around town before going up the mountain in the chair lift again.
Neither sport appeals to me. In one the rider is exhausted by the countless miles of uphill climbs done at maximum speed and effort, all the while being aware of and afraid of idiot drivers speeding along the mainly two lane highway; in the other one must always be scared of the steep downhill course with all of the twists and turns of the mountain trails as well as the hidden rocks and roots just waiting to flip you.
My first ride, after almost an hour of standing there was a brief one but it got me out of the commuter traffic around Whistler. The driver and his other passenger worked in the area and were just on their way home. We did not get the chance to talk much but clearly they were just two nice guys who had hitched before and knew that where I was, was not a great spot. They drove a few miles down the road to where traffic was less chaotic and where there was a chance that people going by might be going a fair distance. I noticed some signs along the highway informing the public that the road was going to be closed for a large part of Sunday as there was a triathlon happening in Whistler on the weekend. Which explained all of the road racers practicing. I was so glad that I had left a few days earlier than planned. If I had gotten to Whistler on Saturday, I might have had a very hard time getting out of town before Monday.
My next ride, which happened within 20 or so minutes of standing there was from a dad with his two daughters. In the last year or so I have noticed a slight change in who picks me up. There was a time when if I saw that there was a child in the car, I just assumed that I would not be getting a ride. That has started to change. Not that I get a lot of rides from parents with children in the car but I am getting more now than ever before. I am not too sure why but I am grateful. Anything that expands my potential audience is a good thing. Unfortunately these folks too were just going down the road a short ride but my driver kindly decided to go just a bit further and take me down to the corner where one either goes straight to Duffy Provincial Park or turns and continues east down highway 99. The most exciting thing of this short trip was that one of the young girls in the back had a tooth come out. It was a big deal - and so it should be. Their dad and I talked about dad stuff - raising kids and trying to figure out the balance between rules and structure and how to give enough freedom so that they grow up strong. It is a fascinating discussion - one that I will, I suspect, have with every dad I travel with. We all want to know the answer.
I had been at this spot a few times before and I knew three things about it. One was that I was in the middle of a First Nation community and that there would be lots of hitchhikers who would all get rides fairly quickly; two, that there were no shoulders on the road. The only place to stand was where every one else did; and three that there were bears in the area. Last year I had seen one cross the road within ten or fifteen feet of me. I settled in for what I knew could be a long wait.
It was a bright hot day. There were a lot of cars on the road. However, most of them were clearly only going a short distance and neither I nor the drivers gave each other much of a look. I am sure than in the space of 30 minutes literally hundreds of cars went by me. There were also a lot of high tech road racing bikes on the road - some which had those fancy solid wheels that one sees at the Olympics - designed, I assume, to be more aerodynamic. The bikes were ridden by guys wearing really weird equally as aerodynamic bike helmets. In the past around Whistler I had noticed a lot of mountain bikes ridden by mainly guys wearing a lot of protective body armour designed, I assumed to protect them from spills as they bounced/sped down the mountain. While both groups rode machines with two wheels there was a considerable difference between the two types of participants. The road racers looked dead serious, they were minimally dressed and were working very hard. The down hill guys were frequently covered in mud and they looked quite relaxed as they biked around town before going up the mountain in the chair lift again.
Neither sport appeals to me. In one the rider is exhausted by the countless miles of uphill climbs done at maximum speed and effort, all the while being aware of and afraid of idiot drivers speeding along the mainly two lane highway; in the other one must always be scared of the steep downhill course with all of the twists and turns of the mountain trails as well as the hidden rocks and roots just waiting to flip you.
My first ride, after almost an hour of standing there was a brief one but it got me out of the commuter traffic around Whistler. The driver and his other passenger worked in the area and were just on their way home. We did not get the chance to talk much but clearly they were just two nice guys who had hitched before and knew that where I was, was not a great spot. They drove a few miles down the road to where traffic was less chaotic and where there was a chance that people going by might be going a fair distance. I noticed some signs along the highway informing the public that the road was going to be closed for a large part of Sunday as there was a triathlon happening in Whistler on the weekend. Which explained all of the road racers practicing. I was so glad that I had left a few days earlier than planned. If I had gotten to Whistler on Saturday, I might have had a very hard time getting out of town before Monday.
My next ride, which happened within 20 or so minutes of standing there was from a dad with his two daughters. In the last year or so I have noticed a slight change in who picks me up. There was a time when if I saw that there was a child in the car, I just assumed that I would not be getting a ride. That has started to change. Not that I get a lot of rides from parents with children in the car but I am getting more now than ever before. I am not too sure why but I am grateful. Anything that expands my potential audience is a good thing. Unfortunately these folks too were just going down the road a short ride but my driver kindly decided to go just a bit further and take me down to the corner where one either goes straight to Duffy Provincial Park or turns and continues east down highway 99. The most exciting thing of this short trip was that one of the young girls in the back had a tooth come out. It was a big deal - and so it should be. Their dad and I talked about dad stuff - raising kids and trying to figure out the balance between rules and structure and how to give enough freedom so that they grow up strong. It is a fascinating discussion - one that I will, I suspect, have with every dad I travel with. We all want to know the answer.
I had been at this spot a few times before and I knew three things about it. One was that I was in the middle of a First Nation community and that there would be lots of hitchhikers who would all get rides fairly quickly; two, that there were no shoulders on the road. The only place to stand was where every one else did; and three that there were bears in the area. Last year I had seen one cross the road within ten or fifteen feet of me. I settled in for what I knew could be a long wait.
Tuesday, September 17, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #17
I am now back in my apartment. I am obviously somewhat behind
in my blog postings..... I will continue to discuss my trip in
sequential order.
I don't know why leaving is so hard. I know that I am going to see my western family again at Christmas which is really only a few months away. I know that I will get to spend another two months with them next year. I also know that Peterborough is a great place to live. There is great food, good music, lots of green space and I have both good friends and a wonderful job but none-the-less there is an almost physical pain deep within my body when I leave. One would think that I would get better at leaving. I have done it so often.
My son along with the rest of his family drove me to Nanaimo so that I could stay in the hostel and then catch the early ferry to the mainland in the morning. Them driving me was a fitting end to this summer's trip. It is not that I could not have managed to get around the islands without their help - but this year more than most years they drove me those few extra miles to get me started and more importantly they rescued me a couple of times when I was too tired to make the last 50 miles home. They also received my guests into their home and made them welcome without a seconds hesitation. I am blessed to have such fine family at either ends of my travels.
Nanaimo has a large and well designed park along its waterfront. We had subs for supper and then went for a walk. Within the park there may be the largest children's playground I have ever seen. There are three separate play structures, each of which would dwarf most playground areas; there are lovely walkways and of course the pier where one can go and watch the local crab fishers throw in and then haul back their baited traps. It is a great place to hang out. But it is also the place I hang out every year as I start to process of separating from my island life and mentally getting ready to hitch across the country. Part of me wanted them to stay for ever, but there was part of me that wanted them to just go so that I could start the process of leaving. When they did leave, in spite of the psychological [reparation it was still painful. As always, as I hugged my daughter-in-law and my son good bye there were tears in my eyes. Other than saying thank you there is little that I can say to express my gratefulness to them or to say how I feel. I am just too choked up. It was especially hard to say good by to my almost four year old grandson who didn't understand that I had another home to go to. He just assumed that I was going on another trip and that I would be back soon. While I had talked about it too him, it felt somehow like I was lying to him when I hugged him good bye.
The hostel was fine, I got a lower bunk which was great, the common room was crowded with lots of travellers making late suppers and using their computers but by 11:00 it was quiet so that I could at least try to go to sleep. I went for a brief walk before settling in for the night. I ended up buying some fries at a shop along the main street. I was the only customer in the store and the young server/cook asked me if I would mind if she went outside for a smoke. She then told me that her mother had just called to say that she had been diagnosed with cancer and she needed to compose herself. While of course I told her that I did not mind - I felt as if I should say something else. I didn't know what, so I said nothing.
The next morning I was up by 5:00 and out in plenty of time to catch the taxi I had ordered the night before. I could have (and have) walked to the ferry terminal. It is a long hike but certainly quite manageable. But the taxi ride is one of two things that I do to pamper myself before I start the journey. The second pampering thing that I do is to take the Greyhound bus from the Horseshoe Bay Terminal on the mainland to the town of Whistler. There is no way that I have found to hitch out of the ferry terminal. There are no shoulders for the first 30 minutes along the Sea to Sky highway. When I say none I mean that there is the road, then a ditch and then a rock cliff. There is no where to stand and certainly no where a car could pull off. I suppose I could walk it but it is all uphill and I suspect that it is illegal to walk along the highway. It is one of the few spots in Canada where I agree with the anti-hitchhiking laws. It would be dangerous for both the traveler and the driver to stop anywhere along the initial part of the route.
The bus was a hour later than I thought it would be so I had to spend almost two hours outside the terminal doing nothing. It was frustrating. I was so close to being on the road and yet I could not quite get started. However the bus did come, it got me to Whistler and five minutes after arriving at this once beautiful but now rich tourist focused village, I was on the road with my sign showing and my thumb stuck out.
I was finally on the road.
I don't know why leaving is so hard. I know that I am going to see my western family again at Christmas which is really only a few months away. I know that I will get to spend another two months with them next year. I also know that Peterborough is a great place to live. There is great food, good music, lots of green space and I have both good friends and a wonderful job but none-the-less there is an almost physical pain deep within my body when I leave. One would think that I would get better at leaving. I have done it so often.
My son along with the rest of his family drove me to Nanaimo so that I could stay in the hostel and then catch the early ferry to the mainland in the morning. Them driving me was a fitting end to this summer's trip. It is not that I could not have managed to get around the islands without their help - but this year more than most years they drove me those few extra miles to get me started and more importantly they rescued me a couple of times when I was too tired to make the last 50 miles home. They also received my guests into their home and made them welcome without a seconds hesitation. I am blessed to have such fine family at either ends of my travels.
Nanaimo has a large and well designed park along its waterfront. We had subs for supper and then went for a walk. Within the park there may be the largest children's playground I have ever seen. There are three separate play structures, each of which would dwarf most playground areas; there are lovely walkways and of course the pier where one can go and watch the local crab fishers throw in and then haul back their baited traps. It is a great place to hang out. But it is also the place I hang out every year as I start to process of separating from my island life and mentally getting ready to hitch across the country. Part of me wanted them to stay for ever, but there was part of me that wanted them to just go so that I could start the process of leaving. When they did leave, in spite of the psychological [reparation it was still painful. As always, as I hugged my daughter-in-law and my son good bye there were tears in my eyes. Other than saying thank you there is little that I can say to express my gratefulness to them or to say how I feel. I am just too choked up. It was especially hard to say good by to my almost four year old grandson who didn't understand that I had another home to go to. He just assumed that I was going on another trip and that I would be back soon. While I had talked about it too him, it felt somehow like I was lying to him when I hugged him good bye.
The hostel was fine, I got a lower bunk which was great, the common room was crowded with lots of travellers making late suppers and using their computers but by 11:00 it was quiet so that I could at least try to go to sleep. I went for a brief walk before settling in for the night. I ended up buying some fries at a shop along the main street. I was the only customer in the store and the young server/cook asked me if I would mind if she went outside for a smoke. She then told me that her mother had just called to say that she had been diagnosed with cancer and she needed to compose herself. While of course I told her that I did not mind - I felt as if I should say something else. I didn't know what, so I said nothing.
The next morning I was up by 5:00 and out in plenty of time to catch the taxi I had ordered the night before. I could have (and have) walked to the ferry terminal. It is a long hike but certainly quite manageable. But the taxi ride is one of two things that I do to pamper myself before I start the journey. The second pampering thing that I do is to take the Greyhound bus from the Horseshoe Bay Terminal on the mainland to the town of Whistler. There is no way that I have found to hitch out of the ferry terminal. There are no shoulders for the first 30 minutes along the Sea to Sky highway. When I say none I mean that there is the road, then a ditch and then a rock cliff. There is no where to stand and certainly no where a car could pull off. I suppose I could walk it but it is all uphill and I suspect that it is illegal to walk along the highway. It is one of the few spots in Canada where I agree with the anti-hitchhiking laws. It would be dangerous for both the traveler and the driver to stop anywhere along the initial part of the route.
The bus was a hour later than I thought it would be so I had to spend almost two hours outside the terminal doing nothing. It was frustrating. I was so close to being on the road and yet I could not quite get started. However the bus did come, it got me to Whistler and five minutes after arriving at this once beautiful but now rich tourist focused village, I was on the road with my sign showing and my thumb stuck out.
I was finally on the road.
Thursday, September 12, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #16
I am now back in my apartment. I am obviously somewhat behind
in my blog postings..... I will continue to discuss my trip in
sequential order.
Rosie and Ignacio hung around for a day and a half. They did all of their laundry (at a laundromat) organized their car and went for walks with us.They were easy guests to have around - quiet, respectful of the house routines and easy conversationalists. If I had a complaint it would probably be from my grandson who really wanted their dog to be a bit more playful. The rest of us were grateful that the dog showed no desire to play with anything -especially the chickens or the dogs next door.
Rosie and Ignacio hung around for a day and a half. They did all of their laundry (at a laundromat) organized their car and went for walks with us.They were easy guests to have around - quiet, respectful of the house routines and easy conversationalists. If I had a complaint it would probably be from my grandson who really wanted their dog to be a bit more playful. The rest of us were grateful that the dog showed no desire to play with anything -especially the chickens or the dogs next door.
My drivers left for Crofton and the ferry to Salt Spring around mid-day of their second day in Duncan. I was sad to see them go. The reality of my summer life is that lots of people come into and go out of my life- most of them I will never see again. Which in some cases is a damn shame. Rosie and Ignacio were good people who were kind and generous to me; they were bright, funny and had a sense of nonchalant adventuresome-ness that was fun to be around. I did email them a few days later to see where they had ended up but I never got a response. I will always wonder if they made it to Chile to help their friend start/run some sort of Eco-hostel. I wonder if they will have kids. And perhaps most of all I wonder if our paths will ever cross again. I hope so.
It was now into the second week of August. My time out west was coming to an end. When I had left Raft Cove, I had thought that perhaps I could convince my son to take his two sons up to Tofino so that we could all go to a Rainbow Gathering together. It would have been great fun. However, by the time that Rosie and Ignacio left I had decided that it was just too far to go for an over night trip. As well I had checked on line and not only did the weather look crummy in Tofino but it appeared as if neither the local authorities or the First Nation community were thrilled about the Gathering happening on their doorsteps. With a partial sense of relief I shelved the idea of going north again. I would spend another week or so with the family and then head east. While part of me was excited about doing some travelling, that terrible sense of sadness about leaving once again threatened to consume me. I dread leaving so much that I become fixated on eking every possible moment with my family. As my tension increases I suspect that I become a poor house guest the last week I am there.
I was going to leave on the Friday - the last Friday before Labour Day weekend. My niece was getting married in Kingston that weekend and I really wanted to be there. As I started to read her excited postings on Facebook about the wedding I realized that one week to get from Duncan to Peterborough was cutting it rather tight. It would mean that I could not afford to get stuck anywhere. I always get stuck somewhere for at least a night. I have always said that hitchhiking is a great way to travel if you are not in a rush. Leaving at the last possible date - would make me incredibly anxious and in the language of the road - send out bad vibes that would scare off potential drivers. Also by leaving a few days earlier than planned , perhaps I would have fewer days to be sad. So I babysat my two grand kids while their parents went out for an anniversary dinner, hung around for another day and got ready to leave on Wednesday. That would give me two extra days to get home. Once again I would be on the road.
Monday, September 9, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 #15
I am now back in my apartment. I am obviously somewhat behind
in my blog postings..... I will continue to discuss my trip in
sequential order.
Like most things at a Rainbow, Rosie and Ignacio didn't leave quite as early as they had planned. First we had to wait for the fourth member of our crew to get up to the top. Sometimes saying goodbye takes longer than one thinks and other times people just do not seem to realize that people are waiting for them. Personally if someone offers me a ride, I stick to them like glue. I want to do nothing to give them a reason to change their minds.
After the car was all packed and we were ready to go - it wouldn't start. The battery was dead. We thought that something had been left on for the week. The Parks people who were at the parking lot to make sure the park stayed closed graciously gave us a boost. They really were nice people. I think the fact that we talked to them not as the "enemy" but as fellow forest lovers let them like us. We then had to get gas at little town of Holberg. The car just made to the little one pump gas station - stalling twice as we travelled on fumes.
Holberg was a dying town. It had been the site of a Radar Station during the Cold War years but once that base had closed down, there was little point in folks hanging around. From what little I saw, the town mainly functioned as a place for the lumber crews to park their vehicles. I suspect there was more to the town than that but I didn't see it. Pity - it was in a gorgeous part of the country as long as one did not mind a 50 kilometer ride on dirt roads.
We went into Port Hardy to both load up on some junk food and to fill up the tank with slightly cheaper gas (the gas at Holberg had been $1.58 a liter). The plan was for Rosie and Ignacio to drop off the fourth passenger at the turnoff to Tofinio and then to continue on to Duncan to stay the night at my son's house. They needed to have a shower and to do some laundry. As far as I was concerned it was a great plan. And in fact it was.
I had gone a lot of miles in the back seat of that car and with the exception of the back seat not having quite enough support - it was great. The three of us got along well together and I think we were good company for each other. The car which they had bought for $300-400 was amazingly reliable - especially as they had been told that perhaps they should not go on any long road trips with it. The hours blend together in my head and I can not say what we talked about for all of those hours- we just talked as good friends do.
The only thing I can remember talking about were their plans for the future. It looked as it the Gathering was going to be moved to Rainbow Beach near Tofino and so they might end up there. But as our mutual friend on Salt Spring wanted to go to the Gathering in the Slocan Valley - they thought they might end up there with her. There were pros and cons for both destinations and it looked as if they were just going to go with the flow and where ever that took them. They did have a goal of going up northern BC to work for a while before their visas ran out. Then I think, they were off to South America.
We got to Duncan just before dark, went to the grocery store and bought some pizzas. We were tired. I had started up the trail almost 12 hours earlier. While after the initial two hour walk I had done little or day but sit in the back seat, it had been a difficult week. The tension of not knowing if we had to leave, where we would move to and the silly arguments about protocol (for a group that prides itself on not having any rules it sure seems to have a lot of them) had tired me out. I was glad to be home with my son and his family.
Like most things at a Rainbow, Rosie and Ignacio didn't leave quite as early as they had planned. First we had to wait for the fourth member of our crew to get up to the top. Sometimes saying goodbye takes longer than one thinks and other times people just do not seem to realize that people are waiting for them. Personally if someone offers me a ride, I stick to them like glue. I want to do nothing to give them a reason to change their minds.
After the car was all packed and we were ready to go - it wouldn't start. The battery was dead. We thought that something had been left on for the week. The Parks people who were at the parking lot to make sure the park stayed closed graciously gave us a boost. They really were nice people. I think the fact that we talked to them not as the "enemy" but as fellow forest lovers let them like us. We then had to get gas at little town of Holberg. The car just made to the little one pump gas station - stalling twice as we travelled on fumes.
Holberg was a dying town. It had been the site of a Radar Station during the Cold War years but once that base had closed down, there was little point in folks hanging around. From what little I saw, the town mainly functioned as a place for the lumber crews to park their vehicles. I suspect there was more to the town than that but I didn't see it. Pity - it was in a gorgeous part of the country as long as one did not mind a 50 kilometer ride on dirt roads.
We went into Port Hardy to both load up on some junk food and to fill up the tank with slightly cheaper gas (the gas at Holberg had been $1.58 a liter). The plan was for Rosie and Ignacio to drop off the fourth passenger at the turnoff to Tofinio and then to continue on to Duncan to stay the night at my son's house. They needed to have a shower and to do some laundry. As far as I was concerned it was a great plan. And in fact it was.
I had gone a lot of miles in the back seat of that car and with the exception of the back seat not having quite enough support - it was great. The three of us got along well together and I think we were good company for each other. The car which they had bought for $300-400 was amazingly reliable - especially as they had been told that perhaps they should not go on any long road trips with it. The hours blend together in my head and I can not say what we talked about for all of those hours- we just talked as good friends do.
The only thing I can remember talking about were their plans for the future. It looked as it the Gathering was going to be moved to Rainbow Beach near Tofino and so they might end up there. But as our mutual friend on Salt Spring wanted to go to the Gathering in the Slocan Valley - they thought they might end up there with her. There were pros and cons for both destinations and it looked as if they were just going to go with the flow and where ever that took them. They did have a goal of going up northern BC to work for a while before their visas ran out. Then I think, they were off to South America.
We got to Duncan just before dark, went to the grocery store and bought some pizzas. We were tired. I had started up the trail almost 12 hours earlier. While after the initial two hour walk I had done little or day but sit in the back seat, it had been a difficult week. The tension of not knowing if we had to leave, where we would move to and the silly arguments about protocol (for a group that prides itself on not having any rules it sure seems to have a lot of them) had tired me out. I was glad to be home with my son and his family.
Friday, September 6, 2013
First Rant of the Fall
Earlier this week a video of a frosh event at St Mary's University in Halifax was posted on the net. The video, as shown on CBC, shows a bunch of students being lead in a chant that amongst other things suggests that sex with under age girls and non-consensual sex are not only just OK but is fact what people (males) expect. Not surprisingly - every one is horrified. The university administration, alumni, educators and politicians are all expressing their disappointment with the student leadership at SMU, while other post secondary institutions are somewhat sanctimoniously jumping on the bandwagon by stating how much more sensitive their frosh weeks are. Fair enough. While it is hard to believe that in 2013 this issue even needs to be discussed, people who lead and participate in such activities need to be chastised in a very public way. Some of them will be forced to attend sensitivity sessions so that they can better understand why it was so wrong. I am not sure if that will do any good. One is sometimes forced to wonders if corporal punishment needs to be re-instated.
I am sure that those involved in frosh week at SMU are all quite embarrassed by this very public exposure. One hopes that their parents, their high school teachers and their university professors are also feeling embarrassed for their failure to instil in these young student leaders some basic understanding of human rights.
I am sure that those involved in frosh week at SMU are all quite embarrassed by this very public exposure. One hopes that their parents, their high school teachers and their university professors are also feeling embarrassed for their failure to instil in these young student leaders some basic understanding of human rights.
However this was not a new chant. According to media reports the same chant had been taught and practiced for a number of years during frosh (and one has to assume at other) events. Why didn't people get angry or upset last year? Or the year before that? Is the chant only so terribly wrong (and worthy of national news coverage) this year because it was exposed in such a public way? Perhaps. Is St. Mary's the only university in Canada that has such antiquated rituals? I somehow don't think so.
I suspect that the problem is far deeper than just a bunch of unaware, poorly educated students. I find it alarming that there were so many female students involved this year both as student leaders and as first year students who didn't express their outrage as the event was being planned or carried out. And with one exception last year no one complained then either - or the year before that. I don't mean that we should blame the victims or that it is only women who have a responsibility to protest where there are violations of basic human decency. However it is, as I have found out, very hard to engage young men in this dialogue when young women in my class are not prepared to support the basic argument that they are worthy of respect. As one young woman said of her frosh experience the previous year ..." I am not a feminist kind of person...so it didn't affect me personally"( National September 5, 2013. I want to yell out to her "Of course it affects you!!"
If I have any sensitivity or understanding as to the issues of equality that affect over half of the population of Canada it is because a number of caring, patient and sometimes forceful female peers took the time to share with me a different point of view; to teach me that the attitudes I had been raised with were potentially discriminatory, and to explain to me how important language was in the shaping of attitudes. I am grateful to those women.
It saddens me that the young young men of today do not have such teachers and such friends.
Monday, September 2, 2013
On the Road Again 2013 # 14
I am now back in my apartment. I am obviously somewhat behind
in my blog postings..... I will continue to discuss my trip in
sequential order.
The next few days were a curious blend of high tension combined with peace and contentment. We still, through a ceremony that I focalized, lit the sacred fire, people continued to build structures including a huge eight foot high mound made up of logs and sand to hold a fire to dance around, we still ate great food and the pleasure of being with folks who were so warm, accepting and in many cases so hard working was constant. At the same time - once a day the park rangers dropped in for a visit to remind us that by the weekend they expected us to demonstrate that we understood the message and that we were leaving. They told us that the park had been closed and that no more people were allowed into the park. While they never said it in so many words, there was an implied threat that if we didn't move the police would become involved.
The park rangers were great guys. They didn't like being the "heavies" in the situation and I think genuinely enjoyed sitting with us in the circle and talking. I think most of us were very respectful towards them and appreciated the fact that they both had bosses above them telling them what to do and that they cared for the forest as much as we did. I think at least one of them would have been quite comfortable in taking off his uniform and spending a few days with us.
The whole thing was really out of their control. Somehow the media had got hold of the story and had suggested that 2,000 people were already camping on the beach. Whereas in fact there were never more than 125 of us. There apparently was a Facebook page that was full of miss-truths and rumours that caused great concern amongst the politicians. It was their (the politicians) decision to kick us out and they made the decision without knowing all of the facts. Similarly the First Nation community has been told that there would be thousands on the beach. All of this could have been dealt with if the scouts had talked to the local people first. Or if at the Vision Council it had been made clear that this was not some remote site but rather a sparsely but reasonably actively used provincial campground. The Family generally does not camp in easily assessable, frequently used campgrounds.
The process of moving was complicated by two separate issues. One was the fact that this Gathering was a World Gathering. Some silly people, none of whom had ever been to BC had decided at a Gathering in Brazil to make BC the next site. There was all kinds of logic behind this decision but they should have asked first if a Gathering in BC in August when there is almost always a fire ban was a good plan. World Gathers have some very clear notions of how a Gathering is to be run and how decisions are made (in council, by consensus). Some of them were determined not to move until some scouts reported back as to a new site. They appeared to be content to wait a week or so. They did not seem to realize that waiting that long was not an option. I was involved in a couple of discussions that were surprisingly complex and bureaucratic feeling.
The second problem was that many folks, including me, had hitchhiked to the Gathering. We had no easy way out. I had planned to leave after a week or so so I could get back to my family, but others had planned on staying for a full month. Thinking about how to get out was not something any of us had given a lot of thought to. The parks service hired a shuttle van. The first one was scheduled to leave at 5:30 one evening and the next at 9:30 the following morning. I don't know how many people used the service. I suspect not very many did as somehow it felt like being taken to the the town limits by the sheriff. What they expected 15-20 dirty hippies to do in Port Hardy was never discussed. We did suggested only slightly tongue-in-cheek that a ride further down the highway would work better.
I never had to decide what to do as Rosie and Ignacio offered me a ride to Duncan. I gratefully accepted. On Monday we started to do clean up. The beach was swept by about 8 or 9 of us, scouring the sand for the tiniest bits of paper or plastic. I think we filled 4-5 garbage bags. Virtually none of the garbage was from the Family. All of the structures were taken down (including a volley ball net and some logs that had been assembled to making a climbing game/exercise). We counciled later that afternoon but no consensus was reached as to what to next. The scouts had gone down to a place called Rainbow beach on Kennedy lake near Tofino. We were still waiting to hear if they had got permission. It was frustrating to have to leave without there being an agreement as to what people were going to do.
We left Tuesday lunch hour. I had only spent seven days there, but like all Gatherings, it felt like I had know the people there forever. Even more than most Gatherings I left with a profound sense of sadness and lost. I also left with the knowledge that once again I had been blessed to be with people who I am honoured to call my Family. The walk back to the parking lot was not as bad as I feared. It still took me longer than some but I did pass three people (of course they were loaded with far more gear then me). I passed one of the park rangers going in for his daily check. We shook hands and he invited me to drop into the office the neck time I was in the area. As we had some time to kill until the fourth another passenger appeared, I started to clean up the parking lot. It wasn't too bad but there were little bits and pieces of paper etc on the ground. One of the park rangers saw me and he came over to help me. It felt good to be working together on at least one thing
The next few days were a curious blend of high tension combined with peace and contentment. We still, through a ceremony that I focalized, lit the sacred fire, people continued to build structures including a huge eight foot high mound made up of logs and sand to hold a fire to dance around, we still ate great food and the pleasure of being with folks who were so warm, accepting and in many cases so hard working was constant. At the same time - once a day the park rangers dropped in for a visit to remind us that by the weekend they expected us to demonstrate that we understood the message and that we were leaving. They told us that the park had been closed and that no more people were allowed into the park. While they never said it in so many words, there was an implied threat that if we didn't move the police would become involved.
The park rangers were great guys. They didn't like being the "heavies" in the situation and I think genuinely enjoyed sitting with us in the circle and talking. I think most of us were very respectful towards them and appreciated the fact that they both had bosses above them telling them what to do and that they cared for the forest as much as we did. I think at least one of them would have been quite comfortable in taking off his uniform and spending a few days with us.
The whole thing was really out of their control. Somehow the media had got hold of the story and had suggested that 2,000 people were already camping on the beach. Whereas in fact there were never more than 125 of us. There apparently was a Facebook page that was full of miss-truths and rumours that caused great concern amongst the politicians. It was their (the politicians) decision to kick us out and they made the decision without knowing all of the facts. Similarly the First Nation community has been told that there would be thousands on the beach. All of this could have been dealt with if the scouts had talked to the local people first. Or if at the Vision Council it had been made clear that this was not some remote site but rather a sparsely but reasonably actively used provincial campground. The Family generally does not camp in easily assessable, frequently used campgrounds.
The process of moving was complicated by two separate issues. One was the fact that this Gathering was a World Gathering. Some silly people, none of whom had ever been to BC had decided at a Gathering in Brazil to make BC the next site. There was all kinds of logic behind this decision but they should have asked first if a Gathering in BC in August when there is almost always a fire ban was a good plan. World Gathers have some very clear notions of how a Gathering is to be run and how decisions are made (in council, by consensus). Some of them were determined not to move until some scouts reported back as to a new site. They appeared to be content to wait a week or so. They did not seem to realize that waiting that long was not an option. I was involved in a couple of discussions that were surprisingly complex and bureaucratic feeling.
The second problem was that many folks, including me, had hitchhiked to the Gathering. We had no easy way out. I had planned to leave after a week or so so I could get back to my family, but others had planned on staying for a full month. Thinking about how to get out was not something any of us had given a lot of thought to. The parks service hired a shuttle van. The first one was scheduled to leave at 5:30 one evening and the next at 9:30 the following morning. I don't know how many people used the service. I suspect not very many did as somehow it felt like being taken to the the town limits by the sheriff. What they expected 15-20 dirty hippies to do in Port Hardy was never discussed. We did suggested only slightly tongue-in-cheek that a ride further down the highway would work better.
I never had to decide what to do as Rosie and Ignacio offered me a ride to Duncan. I gratefully accepted. On Monday we started to do clean up. The beach was swept by about 8 or 9 of us, scouring the sand for the tiniest bits of paper or plastic. I think we filled 4-5 garbage bags. Virtually none of the garbage was from the Family. All of the structures were taken down (including a volley ball net and some logs that had been assembled to making a climbing game/exercise). We counciled later that afternoon but no consensus was reached as to what to next. The scouts had gone down to a place called Rainbow beach on Kennedy lake near Tofino. We were still waiting to hear if they had got permission. It was frustrating to have to leave without there being an agreement as to what people were going to do.
We left Tuesday lunch hour. I had only spent seven days there, but like all Gatherings, it felt like I had know the people there forever. Even more than most Gatherings I left with a profound sense of sadness and lost. I also left with the knowledge that once again I had been blessed to be with people who I am honoured to call my Family. The walk back to the parking lot was not as bad as I feared. It still took me longer than some but I did pass three people (of course they were loaded with far more gear then me). I passed one of the park rangers going in for his daily check. We shook hands and he invited me to drop into the office the neck time I was in the area. As we had some time to kill until the fourth another passenger appeared, I started to clean up the parking lot. It wasn't too bad but there were little bits and pieces of paper etc on the ground. One of the park rangers saw me and he came over to help me. It felt good to be working together on at least one thing
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