Editor's note: This is part five 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.
It's day five of the big trek and all of us are happy to be leaving Saltery Bay. There's big excitement in the wind because we know the folks at Egmont are thrilled to be hosting our crew.
But first before we leave we pose for a group photo. Matt Smart, the good-natured photographer from the Vancouver Police Department (VPD) clambers up on the department's cube van to take our picture from on high. Along with his own camera Matt has cameras from participants in every one of his pockets. Matt goes out of his way to take pictures of anything anyone wants. A tall, thin young man, he looks more like a university student than a cop. This is the day I ride with the ground crew to walk a hot mile or two in their shoes. When we get to Egmont our group is divided among three locations. We're busy putting up tents for the Sunshine Coast contingent. A blistering hot job compounded by the variety of tents we need to set up. There are no two alike. It's a bit like playing with black and white Rubik cubes. This job gives me a whole new appreciation for the crew.
When we finally get all the tents up it's time for a shower. I'm pretty sure the only thing that could have felt better that day would have been winning the lottery. I turn the key at Bathgate's shower room and what a lovely surprise -a spotless clean room. What a luxury. It was worth every penny of the $3.21.
We have a bit of time to kill before the canoes arrive so we help set up the big tent where the Egmont folks will be cooking and serving our dinner. Next it's on to the dock to watch the canoes come in. It would appear everyone who lives in Egmont and most of their friends and relatives are on that dock to see the Pulling Together come in. The guests of honour on the dock are Sechelt Nation elder, Barb Higgins and long time Egmont resident John West. John just turned 93 the month before and Barb is a youthful 73. Barb is there to officially welcome the pullers to the Sechelt territory. Things don't go quite according to plan. The noisy Egmonsters become part of the welcome and shout to the pullers to come on in, effectively drowning Barb out. She takes the protocol blunder in good humour and rather than welcoming each canoe individually, she does a group welcome. Once the hot, parched pullers have had a chance to wet their whistles and bathe some of the journey's dust off, it's on to the best feast you can imagine.
These folks, under the direction of Bev Saunders, are a direct contrast to the lukewarm welcome we received at the last stop. Here nothing seems to be too much trouble for our crowd. We have fry bread or bannock as some call it, several different kinds of salmon, including barbecued smoked salmon, something I'd never tasted before. Delicious! There are many different salads, smokies and wonderful steamed prawns. We even have clam chowder. Later I find out that the red tide meant the clams came from a generous resident's freezer. The Egmont folks are fantastic. Their generosity is amazing. Most of us list this meal as the highlight of the journey.
And as amazing as that meal is the best is yet to come.
Barb is a renowned storyteller. She honours the ancient art of oral history with her stories of her life and the Sechelt people.
That night she tells us the story of her birth.
Barb was born in her grandma's house in Sechelt. At the age of two weeks she came home to Egmont. But all was not well with the tiny baby. She was allergic to both mother's and cow's milk. And it was touch and go as to whether the little girl would make it. But fortunately for Barb and her parents, then as now the Egmont community pulled together. Her savior was an unlikely character named Jimmy Clancy, best known for his home-brewed white lightning.
"Jimmy came around the house hollering, I got the answer Bill (Barb's dad). I've got the answer Sarah (Barb's mom). I've got the answer right here in this jug."
'What the hell's going on here?' Bill asked, assuming the jug was full of the usual contents," Barb laughed.The home brewer was quick to reassure the dumbfounded parent.
"'Every kid can drink goat's milk,' Jimmy said," Barb explained. It turned out Jimmy was right. He came back with five "mama goats" and the baby girl thrived.
Barb a great storyteller. She has an animated face and a chuckle in her voice that tells you she's enjoying the story as much as you are.
And that night in Egmont it's clear everyone's enjoying the story. The whole group sitting on the grass in front of her in leaning into what she has to say.
Later Sgt. Gerry Webb from the Sechelt RCMP detachment names Egmont as the high point of the trip for him. "Coming into Egmont and seeing all the people on the dock and feeling their excitement. Partaking of the excellent meal and most of all hearing Barb Higgins' stories. Those are the highlights for me," Gerry tells me.
Another interesting person I meet at Egmont is a Sechelt member up for the event to see how Egmont has entertained the pullers. Tomorrow is the Sechelt's turn and Audrey Santiago along with another Sechelt Native, Andy Johnson is seeing how the feast goes.
Audrey is usually up in Deserted Bay this time of year fishing, in winter she logs.
That way of life is slowly coming to an end.
"I'm one of the last women working in camp," she said. Life can get pretty exciting in the camp.
"Last time I was there I shot a black bear," she shares. She remembers as a child having tea with old-timers, Bergie and Minnie the cougar ladies.
"We used to go and see them and listen to their stories. They used to go hunting for days. They'd tell us when we should expect them back and they'd share with us," Audrey said.
Not all of Audrey's past was idyllic. Like many of the Aboriginals on the Coast she had a horrible experience at the Indian Residential School with a butcher dentist that left her deaf for a time. At 15 she had all her teeth pulled out. I feel renewed anger at the horror little children suffered at the hands of these brutes.
It's an early night for us in Egmont. We have to get up at 3 a.m. in order to cross the Skookumchuk at low tide. Everyone shudders at the thought of that rude awakening.
What a surprise to wake up at that ungodly hour, stumble down to the community hall and find not one but two huge vats of special porridge as well as a large assortment of other breakfast foods. May the Creator return this kindness tenfold.
Next installment -Pulling Together in Sechelt.
