On the Road Again 2012 Gathering #3

It was such a relief to get to camp. While I was more than a bit embarrassed at having to be "bused" in, it was a lot better than having to spend the night alone. The beach where all were camped was long and narrow (only in BC would they call a rocky patch of land between the lake and the forest a "beach"). As there were only about 15 people there, there was a lot of room for my tent.With the exception of one individual who I knew reasonably well from Salt Spring Island, all of the rest of the people were new to me. I put up my tent in a sheltered spot close to the kitchen and had little nap. I was not being anti social - I was just tired. I got up when I heard "circle" being called. (that being the universal Rainbow call to dinner).

I don't remember what I ate that night, but I know it was good. In fact all of the meals we had at the Gathering were good. Good food is one of the hallmarks of a Gathering. There were at least two people who had cooked in restaurants as well as one who had done a lot a Rainbow cooking in Canada. There was also a brother from Israel and one from Iran. They were all fabulous cooks. It is such a wonderful experience to eat with Family but perhaps what is more remarkable is the fact that people who have never cooked over a fire before offer help and by doing so become part of the process. There is this delicate ballet around the fire as cooks and helpers all work together to produce the perfect meal.

 I am not sure what I did the seven days I was there. In spite of people having been there for 5-6 days before I got there,there was still lots of work to be done ( but then there is always lots of work to do at a Gathering -- as much if not more on the last day as there was on the first day) - so I spent some time making a table with two shelves underneath for dry goods and a wash station for the dishes. I  also helped with the erection of the tarps over the kitchen area. Many of the people who were at the Gathering were newbies - that is they had not been at a Gathering before. For people from the city, no matter how street wise they are, living in the bush, is a different experience. For some the learning curve was extreme and I am not sure if they would ever get it. What comes natural or at least second nature for some is hard for others. A Gathering is a place where those skills meet, and we share those skill sets.And if we are lucky, we learn from each other.

During the time that I was there I had some great conversations.... one was about the classical or structured way of looking at how the body worked/could be cured vs the romantic or natural/alternative path. The fact that one of the debaters was from Iran and the other was from Israel made the conversation even more fascinating as they discussed life experiences that were so different than mine. For at least two afternoons we sat around and did crafty things with me working on my cane, and occasionally showing someone what little I knew about caving, someone else sewed up a pair of shoes while others made bracelets or sewed rips in their pants. We talked about politics and travel and people that we had met. We drank tea and ate treats. They were great afternoons!

The weather in general was not great. It was frequently rather breezy. Unless one was sheltered from the wind, it could be quite cool. The mountains around us were quite frequently covered in low lying clouds of mist

I think there was only one night when it was calm and clear. That was a extraordinary night when friends from across the lake paddled over at 1:00 in the morning. With the large full moon reflected in the calm waters it was tempting to believe that one could walk across the lake.

But that level of calmness was the exception.The lake was usually to rough and that fact caused some tensions. Some people hoped, needed or in a few cases seemed to expect a ride across the lake. I didn't blame them. A ride across the lake would save that rather horrible walk through the forest and the long long walk down the logging road. But it would have been impossible to ferry everyone over. So with one exception no one got a ride. There were some people who felt trapped there and a few were a bit resentful. It was difficult for me because I had been promised a ride due to my age. I felt guilty about that and did not want  anyone to feel that I was taking advantage of my friendship or senior status. Especially as there was at least one other person there who had a real if invisible disability who could have and perhaps should have been helped.

The sculptures created by the wind and the waves were simply amazing. Some of the roots that had be polished over time were such incredible works of art

 The pictures just do not do justice to the complex elegance of the tree's root. They were polished to a glossy shine and glowed with beauty.







 Some of the roots were also huge. The one on the left was taller than me. It was somewhat awe inspiring to realize that these large pieces of wood had been tossed upon the beach merely by the force of water and that they would be moved about many times more until they slowly disintegrated into the sands.

There were a number of caves in the area that for those who are not a touch claustrophobic would have been immense fun.

On the Road Again 2012 Rainbow Gathering part #2

The next morning we packed up our tents and slowly headed down the trail. On the trail were two young people (male and female) who had already been set up at the trail head when we got there (they were travelling together but were not a couple), a father and his 5 year old son and a mid 20s couple along with their dog. The last two were the ones who had picked me up.

The directions had said that the camp was to be about two kilometers from the parking lot. I was prepared for that to be a little bit inaccurate but I was confident that the lake would be basically just down the hill. Within five minutes of walking I knew that my optimism was unfounded and that it was not going to be an easy hike. The bush was tense! It may have been two kilometers from the trail head to the lake if one could fly but for us mere mortals it was far more like five kilometers of going up and down hills, circling around swamps, climbing over large fallen trees and crossing a fast flowing, slippery rocked river. The ground, which was hidden by ferns that were as high as my waist, generally was covered in a lovely mixture of rotting trees and moss. It made the footing somewhat uncertain.  Bits and piece of tree branches laying on the ground were waiting to be tripped over or to snag ones pants. The trail was well marked with tape but there were times when it felt as if one was lost in this beautiful but dangerous rainforest. Because one could never see too far ahead, there was little sense of how far one had either come or had to go.

After an hour I knew I was in trouble. Every one had passed me. I was too tired to walk and even after a ten minute break I was too tired to even think of lifting my pack on to my shoulders. I only had a few sips of water left in the container, I was sweating copious amounts of water and the mosquitoes while they were not biting me, certainly were annoying. I had asked  the others to, when they got to camp, to ask for some help for me.

I had never asked for help before. I had this image of myself of being this tough "Coureurs de bois", someone who could pick up and carry a 70 pound canoe through swamps - not just once but sometimes 6-7 times a day -just to get to a lake that looked interesting on a map.I was someone who helped others carry their stuff in - not someone who needed help. But there I was - stuck in the middle of nowhere - unable to help myself. It was a sobering and alarming feeling.

After an hour of sitting there I realized that it might be a long time before anyone came and got me - so I slid down the next hill on my rear end and and slowly climbed up the next one. I took my time and was careful of where I put my feet. The last thing I needed was a twisted ankle. Finally through a clearing in the trees a few hundred feet ahead of me I saw a bunch of people. I had arrived! I could see a nice beach area and a river. This had to be it. But it wasn't. What I had see were just all of the people who had left with me plus two other people taking a break at the river. The two new people had spent the night beside the water and were heading back home. They were not prepared to keep on going through the bush.

The young ladies who had spent the night at the river told us that we were only half way there. We had left the trail head at 8:30. It was now 11:30. I knew that I could not walk for another three hours. It was clear that at this rate it, at the very least, might take another 4 hours for someone to come and get me. There was however, a canoe in camp and it  was suggested that if I followed the river down to the mouth, someone could paddle down and get me. If that was not possible then I would stay where I was. After the others left I tried to get down to the lake but the bush was far too dense for me to get through even without the pack. There was no way that I could have pushed my was through the dense alders along the shore. I was not about to wander through the bush trying to find another way. That is how people get lost.

 
However I was not that discontented staying by the river. There was a place for my tent, running water (I had my filter pump) and if there is where I was going to stay - so be it. It was a great place. Great that is except for the cougar tracks along the shore.

It looked so much better than the alternative.

Picture on left is of a sleeping bag being dropped and almost floating down the river

You can see in the right picture, if you look closely, the five year old boy walking into the bush. He was really a great kid who never once complained about how far he had to walk. I kept on telling myself that if I didn't have to carry a pack, I would not have complained either

It was nice by the shore. I drank liters of water and slept in the shade. Finally after two and half hours, the canoe came up the river and after my two rescuers had done some trail work, off we went to camp and within after a thirty minute canoe ride I was home with my Rainbow Family.

On the Road Again 2012 Rainbow Gathering part #1

On the last week of July, I headed north to Lake Nimpkish at the Northern End of Vancouver Island for a Rainbow Gathering ( for more information of these Gatherings click on "My Academic Musings" to the right of blog). My plan was to take the bus to Sayward and hitched/walked the rest of the way.

I had forgotten how much I disliked buses. I was quickly reminded as soon as I handed my ticket to the bus driver in Duncan at 8:35. His first and only comment to me was " I hate people who put tickets in their mouth". I understand that that must be one of the hazards of his job but on the other hand he did nothing to assist me in (1) holding the ticket as I tried to get the rather heavy pack into the storage department under the bus (2) make sure my hat did not fall off and (3) maintain control of my small canvas shoulder pack that held a book to read, my mp3 player and large water bottle.


My impression of buses worsened as I sat down at an empty seat and realized that either they either had made the distance between seat smaller or the femurs in both my legs had gotten longer. On previous trips I don't remember my knees being so tightly jammed against seat in front of me. There was an hour or so wait for a bus connection at Nanaimo before the bus continues on to Sayward (225 miles north). Waiting in bus stations is generally not fun.  The bus station in Nanaimo was no exception. It was in fact, painfully boring and ugly. But our new bus driver was a very pleasant surprise.

He was a delight. He introduced himself over the PA system with flair and humour. He was both courteous to and slightly flirtatious towards the older woman who sat down in the front seat just across from him. He seemed well known to a few of the bus travellers and there was a lot of gentle teasing with him about getting lost. However in spite of him being a really nice driver, the trip took forever.The hour stop in Campbell River did not help. I suppose it is obvious why bus stations are not located in the most interesting parts of dow, but if  the were, it would make the travellers a lot happier.

I had asked the bus driver to let me off at the highway gas station just outside of Sayward. As the driver helped me unload my pack I thanked him for his courteous service and mentioned that it was obvious that he like his job. Then I shook his hand. Never done that before - but I felt the urge to do so. I am glad that I did. I had chosen the place to get off the bus well. It was a good location. My original intention was to just stay there until a Family member came by and picked me up. There was a bathroom and some water at the gas station and I was sure I could get something to eat as well. I had only had a small breakfast of two boiled eggs and I knew I would be getting hungry at some point.

I was quite sure as the seed camp had been going for a few days that there would be lots of people heading to the Gathering. I really should learn not to assume.

An SUV stopped and the driver offered me a ride. He knew exactly where the turn off was that I needed so it made so sense to get into his vehicle. It was a great ride. He was a member of a First Nations community in/at Alert Bay which is a small island just a bit north of Vancouver Island. He was so proud of his community's medical and educational services that the band council had created that it was a delight to travel with him. While he had been an engineer on a fishing trawler for a number of  years, he had hurt his knees and now worked for the federal government doing audits ( I think) for various band councils. He had been on his band council before and he talked about that when the present chief decided not to run again, that perhaps he would. Clearly a man with a vision of what his community could be. He understood that for a community to flourish it needed to educate its members ( he had gone to university after his knee problems), to plan carefully for the future, and to utilize all of the resources that are at hand.

My driver also talked about how some First Nation's families in the area manipulated the various types of commercial fishing licenses, and how unfair it had been for the people who worked on those big boats.

More disturbing was his brief mention of a taxi driver who, in some city, said to my driver on the way in from the airport..."residential schools were the best thing that ever happen to you people". How does one apologize to someone for that kind of comment? What could I possible say that made it clear I did not feel that way and that that statement was plain and simply - outrageous. I became even more frustrated at the stupidity of my fellow Canadians when my driver was talking about some sort of pre-treaty negotiation meeting between a representative from the Canadian government and a local band council. At one point as the Chief was perhaps waxing a bit too poetically about tradition land use, the representative felt the need to remind the chief that as the land all belonged to the Queen and thereby implying that they should be happy for what they get. What can one say? I suppose the government needs to hire a certain number of socially challenged/ignorant individuals just to keep them off the streets.

I was sorry when we had to separate when we came to the turn-off to Zeballos.He was continuing further north and I was heading onto the logging roads.

Where I was let off was not a very pretty site. The leaves of the trees were covered in dust from the big logging trucks. What few vehicles that did go by were were either working trucks or SUVs with kayaks on them. Neither group of vehicles were likely to stop. So I thought I would walk some more. There were two flaws in this plan. One was that I did not have enough water with me as I had neglected to refill my water bottle at Sayward and two it was a bloody long walk.

No vehicle until the last 500 or so meters of my 7-9 kilometers of my trek, even slowed down to look at me. Not that there were that many vehicles - perhaps 6 or 7. For the last 3-4 kilometers I saw nothing except for the two bears that ran across the road in front of me.They were not very big and I was quite sure (or at least almost sure) that they were more afraid of me than I of them. I was exhausted. My pack weighed (at an estimate) somewhere around 45 pounds.Considering that that is a bit more than the 1/5 of my body weight that is recommended, it was a taxing weight to have on my back. ( my son who lifted the pack upon my return suggested the pack weighted closer to 70 pounds. I think he was over-estimating the weight a bit - but then he does on occasion life 80 pound bags of cement so he should know) The gravel road did not travel in a straight line. As well it frequently felt that for every foot one walked down an incline, one climbed another foot and a half up the next hill. There were a lot of hills! By the time dusk was approaching I was thirsty, tired and more than a little bit concerned about the real or imaginary noises I could hear in the woods on either side of me. (it really doesn't matter if the noises are imaginary - if you think you hear something - it is pretty real). When I went around another corner and saw yet another long hill I decided that I could not go any further, I yelled a few times just in case there were campers near but got no response. I hoisted my bag on to a large slash pile left over from the clear cut logging, climbed up and waited for morning. I was tired enough that I could sort of nod off. Fortunately the mosquitoes decided to make it their mission to keep me awake. I say fortunately as about 10:30 pm a car came up the road, stopped and drove me the last half kilometer to the trail head. We got to this rather barren spot in the middle of a clear cut, put up our tents beside two other tents that were spending the night there and I quickly fell asleep. Grateful to be beside some others for the night.

I was also grateful that I would be at the Gathering early tomorrow morning. Remember what I said about I should not assume anything...............

On the Road Again 2012 intermission

Off to a Rainbow Gathering way up island...back in 10 days

On the Road Again 2012 #12

I went looking for the cheapest looking motel and I found it. It was of an old "pan-a-bode" ( pre-fab log building) design that had clearly had seen better days. It was dwarfed by the more modern looking and larger motels around it. But the name got my attention..... "Sweet Dreams Motel". Who could resist staying in a place that had such a charming name?

It was almost 9:30 and in spite of the fact that the sign said that the office was open until 11:00 there was no immediate response to the door bell. In fact I was about to turn away when I saw, through the office door window an older women wrapped in a bathrobe approaching the door. For a moment I thought that perhaps the building had been turned into a residence and I had awoken a permanent resident. I apologize for disturbing her but her response was somewhat reassuring " Its O.K., that is what I am here for.

There were still some rooms available for $66.00 (tax included) a night. I was delighted by the price. She was not very empathetic about my slow rate of travel. When I mentioned that I was hitchhiking to Yellowknife she suggested that I was either travelling in the wrong direction or at the wrong time as many northerners were be heading towards urban areas (south) for the long weekend. But she had a friendly smile and it was fun to trade quips with here. I don't think she knew how to give a straight answer. When she gave me my room key, I asked her where it was. She just said "go out the door and follow the number until you find it"! She was fun. When I had mentioned that I had decided to stay for the night in part because of the storm that was approaching - she said " it has been threatening to rain for days, it won't rain tonight" She was right.

The building looked run down. What ever colour the milled, fabricated logs had been - they were now a dirty brown. There was at least one vehicle that I saw  that looked abandoned. Its back end was jacked up and the tires and rims were off. It had last year's plates on it. Inside it was equally as interesting. Rather dark and while everything was clean, it all certainly looked like it had been used before.But the bathroom was fine (if noisy as the family next door could be heard quite clearly), either of the two beds were comfortable and the curtains were double lined so that very light could get through them.

 I put on my sandals and went to find a restaurant. There was attached to the hotel next door and as it looked almost empty I was worried that I would missed another meal. But the young waitress was friendly and welcoming. The menu was less so. The only thing on it that I could eat was a stir fry with no meat. That may sound awkward or poorly phrased but I had order a stir fry with no meat. It was surprisingly good.

I went for a brief walk after supper and then went to bed. Tired for no particular reason, but tired none-the-less

On the Road Again 2012 #11

According to Wikipedia High Level is about 450 kilometers north of Edmonton and 725 km south of Yellowknife. I certainly had not travelled very far in the two days since leaving Susan outside of Edmonton. High Level appeared to have a high percentage of First Nations residents or at least it felt as if First Nations individuals were driving the majority of cars and trucks that passed me. The other thing that I noticed was that in High Level there seemed to be an inordinate number of motels/hotels. If my memory is right, there were at least ten of them. Some of them were fairly big and belonged to national chains. Others were quite clearly local only operations. I wasn't planning on staying in this town but it was good to know that there were options. So many motels suggested that there was some sort of oil exploration going on or that this was one hell of a tourist hot spot.

The spot I chose to stand at the edge of High Level looked to be a lovely spot. Nice wide shoulder, cars still going slow, and great sight lines. Folks if they wanted to do, could have seen me from almost the other edge of town. High Level did  not appear to be a large town but then one can never tell what houses or streets lie just behind the highway. For all I knew there could have been a medium size city just west of the town. There was certainly a lot of traffic around me. Just to my left there was a large Best Western Hotel that had a swimming pool. The pool was open to the public. There were streams of cars and trucks full of kids driving into the parking lot for a swim while young teenagers casually strolled across the highway heading towards the pool. All but the youngest children ignored me, most almost making a point of looking the other way.  The young ones just pointed at me and asked their mothers questions. I don't know what they were told but I am quite sure that at least some of the adults had not seen a hitchhiker very often.

It was now close to 9:00 pm and the sun was still visible. However it was so low in the sky that my broad brimmed hat no longer provided much protection. Consequently my nose got rather badly burnt and so did the side of my neck just under my ears. While it was not the first time that my nose got burnt I can't remember ever having a sunburn on that part of my neck.

After being at that spot for some time I noticed a reasonably large dirt bike roaring out of an ally on the other side of the road, then tearing across the highway 20 feet north of me and finally disappearing into the woods. Seconds later a four wheel drive police truck tore out of the same alley and chased after the motorcyclist. I was never sure if the police caught the guy or not but twenty minutes a tow truck came and carted of the guy's bike. While the whole incident was somewhat interesting to watch it did cause me some concern as I thought about having to sleep out that night. Right where the motorbike turned into the woods was where I sort of had thought about sleeping for the night. The other thing that I noticed was a conservation authority truck driving around with looked like a bison (buffalo) head in it. I would have liked to have had a closer look at it and even more I would have loved to talk to the female conservation officer as to why the head was in the back of her truck.

Off the the south west the sky was black with clouds. I could see where, in the distance, there was a torrential downpour . Then the thunder and lightening started. Again it was fairly far away, but the wind was blowing the clouds towards me. I decided to call it a night and to look for a cheap motel. In spite of only travelling about 200-250 kilometers that day but it looked like I was done for the day. The oncoming rain, the bears and a potential police investigation were all factors in me deciding to find a bed for the night. I also had not eaten a real meal since the grilled cheese and fries in North Battleford two days before and thought perhaps I should.

On the Road Again 2012 # 10

There were times this trip I thought about calling the trip "death by a 1,000 rides" (as opposed to On the Road Again"). I really do love meeting people but there are times, especially after a number of short rides that leave me in the middle of nowhere that all I want is one decent long ride.

As I stood on this lonely stretch of highway some north on Manning, I started to count the number of cars that would pass me in a specific length of time. As a car passed me that could have offered me a drive ( I didn't count corporate or transport trucks) I would transfer a pebble from one pocket to another. After all the stones were transferred I, based on the number of cars that passed me in ten minutes, calculated the number of cars an hour that were passing me. There were times that it appeared that only 15-20 cars an hour were going by. Some of the occupants of these cars waved, others vehicles moved to the other side of the road (out of politeness or fear I am not sure), and some occasionally slowed down so they could get a better look, not to offer me a ride but rather as if I was some curiosity to marvel over. Once a pickup going the other direction stopped, a young man rolled down the window and just stared at me for 30 seconds. I guess they don't see many hitchhikers in this part of Alberta.  By my guess, after exhaustive investigation, it appeared that I need a traffic volume of approximately 50 cars an hour to get a ride fairly quickly. That was not going to happen on this road.

However eventually a large pick-up truck did stop. I threw my pack in the back seat - I didn't care where he was going. As I got in, the driver who looked to be around my age, asked if I had a gun or a knife. As I was already in the seat, it seemed like a slightly irrelevant question. But I answered it anyways.

Jake was just off to High Level. I of course was not too sure how far away it was but I had to assume that any town would give me access to more vehicles than where I had been for the past few hours. It turned out to be about 150 kilometers. Not the great long drive that I had been hoping for but it was the longest drive of the day. If the drivers (however few they might have been) were not so nice I would have gotten really discouraged. But they were nice. They all had lots to talk about and while the rides were short - that was not their fault - they generously drove me as far as they were going.

Jake amongst other things was a hunter. He said he only hunted for food for his family. I think he liked and appreciated animals. For example we saw a few black bears along the side of the road and he stopped so that he (and I) could enjoy the sight of a two year old bear eating and playing in the grass. We also talked about rules and why some people follow them. The example he used was hunting from his truck. (apparently you can be standing beside your car and shoot or you can, from a stand up a tree, shoot at a bear that has been trained to eat garbage out of a steel drum, but you can't shoot an animal from a truck?). His point was, if you do it and no one sees you do it, what moral law has been broken? Who has been hurt? Clearly, except for the animal no one has and the animal would have been shot anyway. I suspect he had done it more than once. Hunting was not a sport to him - it was shopping for the winter's meat.

We also talked about kids and their expectations. His young adult daughter wanted him to co-sign a car loan. He was prepared to do that but he thought she should probably not buy a brand new car and that she should get a job first. It was hard to argue with him.

Jake let me out at the southern end of High Level at a place that he said trucks stopped. It was a small gas station and I decided to walk to other end of town (which was only a ten minute walk). It was only around 6:00 so I knew I had lots of time left to get a ride further north. I knew the sun was not going to set anytime soon.