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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

 

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

On the Road Again 2013 # 13

While 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 near clear sky next morning gave promise to another glorious day. I had slept well in the sack but had been under the assumption that sand was soft ( I won't bore you with repeating the conversation I had with some one earlier in the summer about soft and hard beaches) and therefore I did not need to use my air mattress. I was wrong. Sand can be and was just as hard any other material. While I had managed to dig little pockets for my hip and shoulders, it had not be a comfortable night. I put my inflated mattress into the sack before I did anything else. I could have survived without it but as I had it with me, it made sense to use it. I also raised the corners of the tarp. It was a bit low and it was awkward accessing my stuff.

I usually don't have breakfast with my family. Rainbow porridge, while some folks like it, is not to my taste. As well, given the nocturnal habits of my brothers and sisters, breakfast has sometimes been know to be served fairly close to noon. However at this Gathering I think I had breakfast four or five times. The folks who were cooking were up early and we ate well before 10:00 on at least a couple of the mornings. They were also very tasty breakfasts. There were stewed apples with cinnamon, lots of brown sugar to go with the porridge and some other rather delicious concoctions.

Later in the day I helped some very enthusiastic folks dig a deep hole in the sand and then line it with logs so we would have a place to put some canned and dry goods in. I say help - but in fact I did relatively little. There were just too many people wanting to work far harder than I could. As well I was uncomfortable with the possibility of bears and what they might be able to get into. I was reasonably sure that with the number of dogs around and the noise that we made, that most reasonable bears would stay away. I would have been happier if we had used the steel bear proof boxes that we at the park but folks didn't want to listen. On the assumption that the kitchen was kept clean and nothing perishable was placed in the pit - it seemed to be a reasonable option. As well the bear proof container would not have been big enough to hold all of the food that would be arriving.

One morning after the folks had had a late night feast of five salmon that had been donated to them, I spoke for more than a few minutes on the problem of bears and how dangerous it all could be if they decided to raid our camp. I don't very often wear my "elder" cap. In fact I usually refuse both the label and any of the assumed wisdom that goes with it. But that morning I made a point of being rather forceful about people being sloppy around safe bear habits. I am not too sure if it did any good. Equally as concerning was the fact that someone had observed a pack of wolves across the river. We did not need them to prey upon the dogs. The river was too deep to ford and the tide ensured that there was almost always a current going up or down the river. So I think it was safe. I would have been happier if people were as concerned as I.

All of the days I was at the Gathering were sort of like that. The weather was cloudy for a few days but generally folks got up early, someone made breakfast and work parties were created. For example the river up to the supply truck was partially blocked by fallen trees so for two days, crews went up there to clear the river to make it easier for the canoes to make in down with the food. People lazed around, played in the water. chatted, and played any one of the 7-8 guitars stashed around the campfire or the kitchen. Supper was served well before dark (unusual at some Gathering to eat before dark) and then we companionably chatted until it was time to wander off to our sleeping bags. It sound rather idyllic. And it was except for one little problem.

Two of the Park Rangers came by the second day that I was there. They told us that we were not welcome at the park and that we needed to leave. They gave a couple of reasons: 1) the park was too ecological sensitive to support the anticipated numbers of people, 2) the scouts had not asked for permission and 3) the local First Nation community on whose traditional lands we were camping had not been consulted. All of those things should have been addressed by the folks who scouted and recommended the site. They were not and therefore there was no doubt that we would have to move.

The following day more senior people arrived by helicopter and gave the same message. Two days later another larger helicopter arrived with the traditional chief of the First Nations who asked us the leave. Around the circle as we passed the talking stick around and around there was mixed reaction. Some of the Europeans had some difficulty understanding why we needed to listen to the Indigenous people of the area. For them - no one owns the land. For people like me it was very clear. We had messed up. We had not consulted with the local people and we should have.

As glorious as the spot was - we did not belong. I started calculating how I would get out.

On the Road Again 2013 # 12

While 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 parking lot was fairly full. The family (mom, dad, 4 kids and grandparents) who had driven me to the trail head were locals (which in this area appears to mean that they lived about 90 km away) They were very surprised and I think displeased that it looked as if there were so many campers on the beach. I didn't have the heart to tell them that there might be a couple of more hundred campers arriving.

The walk to the beach was not too bad. It took most folks about an hour to walk the trail; it took me about a hour and forty-five minutes to do it. Parts of the trail, especially where there were exposed roots, was slippery and occasional dangerous for those whose balance or ankles are suspect. One needed to be careful where one placed ones foot as it was quite easy to slip. However, most of the trail was either dry or "boardwalked". There were a few sections that were quite hilly and in some places it was so steep that it took all of my strength to climb up. In spite of these minor technical difficulties, most of the trail was rather beautiful with large, sometimes twisted trees towering above us. It would have been a very very nice walk if I had not been carrying a pack. As it was I did not mind stopping to get my heart rate down. There was a lot to look at.

One of the minor frustration of the hike was that while I could hear the waves crashing on the beach, I could not see the ocean. I kept on waiting for the path to turn west towards the sounds of the waves but it felt as if I walked for miles just on the other side of the ridge never quite being able to see over the crest. However, when finally the path did turn west, the wait was worth it. What an extraordinary beach!! It was absolutely glorious. It was well over a kilometer long with large black rocks at either end. While I never actually went to see, I was told that there was more beach on the other sides of those rocks. Out in the ocean as the tide was coming in, the waves curled and crested in a constant and thundering roar. The sky was cloudless. The sun shining on the water made it glisten. Along the shore people walked, playing in the water, surfing or just standing there - admiring the view west.

There were about 60 Rainbows there when I arrived. The first two I saw were my friendly drivers Rosie and Ignacio. It was really great to see them again. I dropped my pack on the sand (I never need much of an excuse to get it off of my back) and we chatted a bit. They went off to the parking lot to get rid of some stuff they didn't need and I headed up the beach. Setting up was easy - the bivy sack takes literally seconds to "erect" and there were lots of driftwood logs to string my tarp to. Within 10 minutes I was set up and off down the beach towards where I assumed the kitchen would be. I had twine in my bag and was ready to tie some knots.

When I got the the kitchen - everything was under control. There was no need for my flimsy twine as things were being built using the heavy storm tossed timbers. I sat around for a bit and chatted with the young folks ( for most of my 6 or7 days there I think I was the oldest person on the beach - sometimes by quite a few years), made a few suggestions that were quickly adapted and changed into something much better that I had suggested, asked questions about the site (e.g where was the latrine and what was the safe drinking water situation) and just enjoyed being around folks.

While I was trying to help the kitchen builders,  I unfortunately stepped on a sharp piece of wood and scraped a fair bit of skin off my instep. Nothing serious but to keep it as clean as possible, I wore shoes most of the time. Which was not a terrible inconvenience as the sand was almost too hot to walk on.

There was a lot of work to be done. Most of the food supplies were still up the river (which could only be easily accessed at high tide),  the kitchen needed more shelving, we needed to dig a compost pit, find a spot to store the food and create a space for the main circle and fire. But there was no rush. It was going to be a month long Gathering and it had just started. For now, I was quite content to listen to the music played by folks from at least three continents and to argue philosophy and politics until well after the moon had started to make its nightly journey across the sky.

OnThe Road Again 2013 # 11

After I had my bivy sack set up, I dug out my little stove and a rather beaten up tin tea pot, boiled some water and made myself a bowel of Chinese noodle soup. It is easy to make and it taste good. One of the advantages of minimal camping is that washing up is very easy. I only had to rinse out one bowl.

After supper I went for a bit of a walk, watched a pair of eagles catch food for their young, worked on my stick for a bit and went to bed as soon as the sun went down. I wasn't tired - I just had nothing else to do. I slept in the bivy sack for the next 7 nights so let me tell you how it feels so I can get it out of the way. It is like being in a cocoon....actually there are times where it feel like I am trapped in a cocoon. If I need to have the hood up and zipped either because of the bugs or because it is raining it can quite claustrophobic. The second problem is that there is no where to put my stuff, so everything is in my pack with its rain cover on it which can make getting up the next morning, especially if it is raining a touch awkward. Its singular advantage is that it weighs very little. The reduced weight makes up for any inconvenience. In the past when I know that I am going to be camping in one spot for a few days I have taken my much more substantial two man tent. It is significantly heavier but much more roomier. However, last year I had had to walk 8 kilometers down a logging road carrying that far too heavy tent (actually it is not that heavy - I m just getting older)....this year fearing that the same thing would happen again, I chose to travel with just the bivy sack and a light tarp. I knew it would be an interesting experience, especially if it rained. Fortunately while misty the next morning, it was not raining.

I quickly got my stuff together and was on the road just after 7:00. As I have said before, I don't know why I bother to get up so early. I almost never get a ride. The walk from my camp ground to the turn off to Raft Cove was only a kilometer or so. It gave me the chance to limber up and to get all of the kinks out from the bus ride the day before. It was hard to find a place to stand because the shoulders were either very narrow or non-existent. There were however, a surprising number of vehicles on the road. Most of them however, were pickups with 2-3 guys in them. All of them looked to be working trucks - working men going to do a job. I was pretty sure that none of them were going to stop for me.

After being there for about 40 minutes, Bob from yesterday passed me going out with a large pile of logs. He sounded his air horn and I waved. About an hour later he came by the other way going back in for his second load. He stopped the truck and I climbed in. It was not the most luxurious truck that I have ever been in and given the state of the roads it was not the smoothest ride . But it was interesting and informative. My driver knew a lot about the business of logging and about the general area. He was always pointing out things of interest along the way such as the windmill farm being built along the ridge or the roads that were being used. He also talked about the various special hidden places that either had remarkable rock formations or unusual trees. It was an interesting journey, but perhaps the most remarkable bit was watching the trees being felled by this giant machine. It was incredibly powerful and efficient. It was also scary to watch how many trees the operator could take down in a few minutes.

 Bob let me off at what appeared to be the last turn. While I, according to the directions, only had about 9 kilometers left to travel - the directions had not been that accurate - I in fact had no idea how far it was. However the odds of me getting a drive seemed rather remote as I had not seen a private car on the road for hours. So I decided that I might as well start walking. I probably walked for a hour or so before a SUV did stop and offer me a drive. The family were off to Raft Cove. I was glad that I did not have to walk. Without a doubt I was excited to camp on the beach with my Rainbow Family.