Editor's note: This is part one of Cathie Roy's diary, a seven-part series on the recent Pulling Together canoe voyage designed to bring together First Nations, youth and police forces.
June 24, day one of Pulling Together 2006, dawns blazingly hot, a harbinger of the weather to come for the next seven days. On this brilliant Saturday morning, some of the soon to be 120 personnel involved in the journey meet in the RCMP detachment in Sechelt.
There's excitement in the air. Most of us are grinning like kids on Christmas morning. And although I know many of the people casually, before the week is over we'll have shared enough bad hair days, sore muscles and tears to be genuine friends.
One of the first people I meet is in a similar business. Marlene Lowden is one of the local Cable 11 people. We soon become the official paparazzi for the trip. We have many laughs over the title during the next week. Marlene is quickly jealous of my tiny camera, steno pad and pen. I feel for her packing her heavy video camera and mike. Marlene's other claim to fame on the trip becomes apparent at the first meal. She's our only vegetarian and a strict one at that. She's reed thin to begin with, a fact this adventure is not going to change.
Fortunately, the Vancouver Police Department (VPD), the group that organized this year's Pulling Together, is big on fruit. Otherwise, some days Marlene's diet would have been literally bread and water.
Although we have no way of knowing on that first day, Marlene is one heck of a paddler in spite of her light weight. Another person I meet that beautiful morning, who I end up admiring very much, is a young First Nations woman named Nicole Smith. Nicole is one of the most respectful people I've ever met. She goes out of her way to help everyone and is especially kind to younger people and the many elders we meet over the course of the next few days. Young and fit, Nicole is another excellent addition to the canoes.
Another person waiting in Sechelt is the aptly named Belle Wilson. Belle is involved in a lifelong journey to find her roots and help others do the same. Her energy appears never ending. Everyone loves her. And for a little thing, she's a powerhouse on the canoes, too.
Our first port of call after leaving Sechelt is Fred Stark's home on Redrooffs Road. There we have the heavy canoes, some over 1,000 pounds with nothing in them, to load onto trailers for transport to Powell River. Fred is a great guy. A retired RCMP member, he's a little hard of hearing but a good sport whenever we tease him. Just how good we learn a few days later when his old friend, Ed Hill, sets him up for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. More about that in a later story.
Once we've wrestled the huge canoes onto the carriers, we set off for Earl's Cove and the ferry to Powell River. There I have the first of what I come to call "goose bump moments" of the trip.
In the parking lot of the ferry terminal are a number of VPD officers. We spend a few moments introducing ourselves. A moment later Ed calls my attention to a young Native man.
"Cathie, you've got to hear this story," he implores.
And Ed's right, Rik Mountain's story is worth hearing.
He is 34 from a family of carvers from Alert Bay. Both of Rik's parents are dead and his only close relative is brother a year younger. His life is one that's been filled with strife but Rik's just recently embarked on another journey, one he hopes will be addiction free. He's been clean for four months now. VPD Const. Vinnie Forsberg was the instigation for Rik to come on this journey but Rik's story of how he made the final decision to come is what makes my skin prickle.
Three days earlier Rik had been at the Vancouver Art Gallery where a celebration of Aboriginal Day was in full swing. He watched the many different Nations entertaining on the lawn. One especially caught his interest, a group doing a paddle dance. When Rik got closer he noticed that the paddles seemed familiar. He asked to see the backs of the elaborately carved paddles. "When I turned them over, I found out they had been carved by my family, my mother and father. And although I had been thinking of not going I knew then this paddling trip was meant to be," he shared.
Rik's history mimics many West Coast First Nations people. His dad had experience with a residential school and always took his sons' sides in any disagreement with school authorities. Consequently he refused to believe the boys could be at fault in any dispute. Both boys ended up in Vancouver with a minimal education. Rik, a gifted carver in his own right, is now trying to make a living selling his art.
Later that day at the Sliammon Reserve just outside of Powell River we set up camp in a field that becomes our home for two days. The Sliammon people go out of their way to make us welcome. They share their food and their talents freely with the many strangers.
The evening is magical one. All of us, over 100 people by this time, form a gigantic circle and five young people are presented with wooden paddles courtesy of the Sunshine Coast Rotary Club. A dance is performed to bless the paddles. Later Sechelt Native and skipper, Glen Dixon dances with the two paddles he has carved in honour of this father and mother. The joy on his face makes for another goose bump moment.
Later one of the Sliammon elders sings the beautiful song, The Wind Beneath My Wings and has many in the crowd sniffling. The man is blind and watch him sing and play his guitar is an amazing experience. The love the Sliammon people feel for him is palpable. Next week more on the Sliammon experience.
