June 15, 2005
Resting Rocks & Wet Socks
It is past four o'clock, and I lie suspended between a cedar and a spruce in my hammock. Lost Valley creek is rushing below me, and tastes good. Although we had early spring temperatures and four days of solid rain, the Lost Valley expedition was phenomenal.
On one level, we made great friends all around and formed a spiritual bond with the valley. On another level, we made progress toward the realization of a land-use plan set forth by the St'at'imc (pronounced Stat-lee-um) to save their traditional land.
During the first few days, I must say that things looked a little grim. We were struggling with our heinous packs, and some had a hard time keeping up. We didn't know each other or what to expect. Toward the end though, we were sharing our food around the fire, cracking jokes, and helping each other to dry our drenched socks. Good times, good company.
Historically, the St'at'imc criss-crossed these valleys for hunting, communication, and other purposes, and there is ample evidence of a complex network of trails. Of course, you have to know what to look for, and Kenny and Mike, two St'at'imc men, taught us to really keep our eyes open. At times, when we were standing in a seemingly impassable tangle of branches, fallen trees, bogs, and boulders, Kenny or Mike would look around patiently, smile, then raise his machete, and, to our amazement, exclaim, "That way." They pointed out 'resting rocks' where their ancestors used to rest their packs. They showed us 'warm-up trees,' the bark of which was partly burned to keep warm on the trail. And, we learned how to recognize some old trail markers, such as pinched trees and braided trees. In addition to showing us these and other culturally-modified trees, Kenny--who in his spare time fixes up bikes and builds dug-out canoes--pointed out numerous edible and poisonous plants and their traditional uses. I am impressed that the oral tradition is alive and well, and I am honoured that Kenny and Mike shared some of their knowledge with us 'city folk.'
The mountains tower from the valley floor, the sun skims across the trees, the bear munches on some shoots in the avalanche chute, and the river, with its thousand voices--some of which we heard--flows constantly. It is easy to feel the water's spiritual pull and wax philosophical. As I sit here, back in the city, transcribing the experience, it seems eerily quiet without the rushing torrent. "Voices?" I hear you ask doubtfully. Yes, voices. But you'll have to go and check it out for yourself. I have a whole new perspective of Lost Valley and why it must be saved. Suddenly, it's more than just a place on a map. And I only spent a week in there. I cannot begin to imagine the attachment the St'at'imc must feel. Thanks Kenny, Mike, BJ, and everyone else. I hope to be back soon.
Fil Krykorka, Wilderness Committee Volunteer
