Reflections by Kirk
30 July 2013 | Miles Inlet
Foggy
Reflections by Kirk 07-30-2013
Sometimes Lady Luck taps you on the shoulder and says, “Let’s take a walk.” Kris and I had done a bad job of planning the day’s trip from Ocean Falls to Shearwater not having given enough thought to backup plans. When we arrived at Shearwater, we were informed that they were full and we could tie up to the breakwater to wait if any space became available. The breakwater was full of commercial fishing boats that started rafting up so there was no space left on the breakwater. We started a slow tour around the edges of the rather large harbor and could not find any suitable places to anchor. Out come the charts to see if there may be a suitable anchorage within a reasonable dingy ride to Shearwater. Being within a dingy ride was crucial as Shearwater is the only place between Port McNeil and Prince Rupert, a distance of over 300 miles, where one could buy beer which we had run out of several days earlier. No luck, we had just resigned ourselves to another few beerless weeks when a voice hails us on the VHF radio with the news that a space has just become available at the docks. As soon as we got the boat tied up and checked in, up to the pub for a burger and an ice-cold beer.
As we looked over the menu, a man sitting next to me said “try the special, it’s good.” This started a conversation with Vern, a seabus driver (seabus, water taxi, water shuttle) between Shearwater and Bella Bella. Bella Bella, a First Nations (or native Canadian) village, is not very far from Shearwater and would have made an alternative to Shearwater for beer had not the building, which housed the grocery store, post office and liquor store burned down two weeks earlier.
Anyway, Vern who is a member of the Heiltsuk band (or tribe for you Americans) lives in Bella Bella and says that a huge three-day potlatch has started and why don’t we go over tomorrow and check it out. Vern was on his lunch break and had to leave before we could find out exactly what a potlatch is and what we should bring or not bring. After asking around, differing interpretations of the purpose of a potlatch were given to us; a celebration of life, a business meeting, or a gathering for band members to witness significant events such as namings or the bestowing of titles. The next day we take the seabus to Bella Bella to participate in our first potlatch, and it was amazing. This is the real deal, not some twice-a-day performance for the tourists. Please no photographs and be respectful. Things may be a little more modern with the event being held in the community center rather than in a longhouse or around a big campfire, but it was authentic. We walked in the doors just before they were locked at the beginning of the “red cedar bark ceremony.” For two and one half hours, we watched and listened as many stories were told with music, song and dance. After each dance, a man would give a brief explanation of what the dance represented. I do not think that this was for the benefit of the few white folks in the stands, but more for the multitude of band children who were there, for them to learn and remember centuries old stories and pass them along to future generations. I could not begin to understand all that was represented by the song and dance, but could easily grasp the richness and depth of this unique culture. The drum rhythms all sounded similar, but each one was different. Flutes sang out haunting notes. Voices may have been singing the native language or just singing notes to add another layer to the sound, but the music was mesmerizing and reached all the way to my bones. The dances at first appeared to be kind of simple until I realized that every move of the dancers, whether it be a dance of one person or of thirty, were almost perfectly aligned with the rhythms. Each dance, of which there were many, had its own particular rhythm; and the dancers either knew it or just had a way to feel it. I have always been a foot tapper and have felt that I had a reasonably good sense of rhythms, but frequently found myself out of step with my foot tapping. All of the dances moved in a counter clockwise direction; and the dancers always made a complete circle at the corners of the rectangular dance area, which had the representation of a fire pit in the middle.
There were dancers of all ages from preteen to the elderly. All of them were clothed in elaborate ceremonial attire. All of the women had shoulder to ankle capes and skirts with dye-painted, embroidered or beaded designs. There were lots of hats, bracelets, ankle bracelets and things worn around the neck that were made of cedar bark strips, many of which were dyed a beautiful red. Many of the stories involved beings from the spirit world and these “beings” had the most elaborate attire including beautifully carved and painted masks with moving parts, intricate weavings of cedar, and lots of body paint.
What followed was a great feast of traditional foods. We estimated maybe two hundred people at the potlatch and all of them were offered an already made up plate that might contain salmon, halibut, cod, crab, prawns, herring roe, along with vegetables and bread. My plate had a thick piece of halibut, a big piece of salmon and a pile of herring roe. I have never had this particular food item before and its appearance was unusual to me. Bunches of little translucent eggs were spiraled around a strand of sea grass. Tables were filled to overflowing with food. Trying to be respectful, I did mange to eat everything on my plate, but thought that my stomach would be full for days. The herring roe was quite delicious and a little crunchy.
After the feast, we all went back to witness more ceremonial dances. The depth of culture and tradition started to become more apparent as we watched. One family of the band hosted this potlatch. Most of the dances that we were able to see in the after feast ceremony were to celebrate the reaffirmation of ties between the host family and other families of the tribe. There was also a special ceremony to acknowledge and present the elders with gifts. It felt very special to be in attendance as elders were acknowledged as important and contributing members of the band and revered for their abilities to pass knowledge to future generations.
We were not able to stay for the end of the ceremony, as it was time for the last seabus back to Shearwater. We never found out why it was important that we continue to wear the headbands given us earlier in the day to protect us from the shape shifting werewolves that came from the spirit world during one of the dances, but we had no where to stay in Bella Bella and had to go. We were just about to walk to the seabus waiting area at the dock when a man started walking up the very steep ramp (due to a very low tide at the time). He was carrying a bucket full of fresh salmon fillets on his shoulder. He stopped to speak to us awhile and would not let us leave until he walked back down to his boat to retrieve a plastic bag that he insisted on filling with salmon for us. That was, for me, an unusual act of kindness and generosity. The entire potlatch experience was also unusual for us as not once were we asked or even given a subtle hint that any money or gift or donation was expected from us. We were complete strangers who were allowed to witness traditional ceremonies and who were provided an extraordinary meal that I don’t think you could get at a fancy restaurant at any price.
Lady Luck tapped us three times in the space of just over twenty-four hours. She stepped up when we were not able to get space at the Shearwater docks, she helped us meet Vern and learn about the potlatch, and she introduced us to a fine first nations gentleman who shared his day’s catch with two complete strangers. AND, we managed to purchase some more beer.
Lady Luck has an evil sister – the complete antithesis of the fine lady who helped us while at Shearwater and Bella Bella. We saw her work at a place called Ocean Falls. Ocean Falls was a Crown Zellerbach company town that was said to be the second largest pulp and paper mill on the west coast, which is located at the head of Cousins Inlet, which is near the head of Fisher Inlet, which is at the head of Fitz Hugh Sound. This place is really out there in the boonies, even today, but especially when it was built over one hundred years ago. Crown Zellerbach built a dam to provide fresh water and the power to run such a huge mill. There were many homes, a school, the very large company “co-op” store, a five hundred-room hotel, an even larger concrete apartment tower, an Olympic size heated swimming pool, and five thousand workers and residents. When it became cheaper to produce paper elsewhere Crown Zellerbach just shut the whole town down in the 70’s and forced the residents to leave as “the Company” owned everything in the town. The BC provincial government subsequently tried to make a go of it; but with cheaper paper being made elsewhere and the experienced workers gone, they soon gave up and what a shame. Here sat a complete town with its own unlimited fresh water supply, more power than they could use and a deep-water port facility. They tried to encourage large companies to take over for any use; but I suppose that due to the remote location, no takers surfaced. Today it is a true ghost town. Most of the homes were razed, but many remain as well as the school, the hotel, the church, the co-op store, the fire station, the mill structures and many other buildings. Most have locks on one door but you can gain entry to any of the abandoned buildings without a great deal of effort. Over the forty years or so since the town was abandoned, things have been pretty well picked over, but there are still curtains fluttering behind broken windows, pipes, rusted equipment, fixtures, furniture and most of the things that one might find in the homes and businesses of a small town.
When they left, Crown Zellerbach determined that it was cheaper to just leave everything than pay to pack it up and move it. Even the shelves of the co-op were still stocked when they left. Families were left to find new homes and jobs far from where they had lived. Children had to leave the schools and all of their friends. An entire town of five thousand people was just disassembled. Kris and I took a walk through a true ghost town on a full moon night. Very eerie. Lady Luck’s evil sister struck the residents and workers of Ocean Falls.
So luck is a fickle thing. I guess when you add it all up, the odds are not very favorable. You need to have some idea that Lady Luck has given you the tap and then you must decide to take the walk with her before the good things happen. When the evil sister decides to strike, about all you can do is damage control.
May the luck of the Irish be with you.