By Gordon Patterson
Fireside Ramblings Revisited….
I awoke to a sunny morning, calm blue seas, and a few bright, fluffy clouds… a perfect recipe for a day of exploring the great outdoors. Over twenty-five thousand kilometres of pristine possibilities make up British Columbia’s coastline. Vancouver Island itself is a treasure chest steeped in pioneer and First Nations history, dotted with villages, bays, fjords, coves, and barnacle-encrusted prominences. Here, rugged shores offset by stretches of white sand and bordered by dense rainforest have inspired generations to live, explore, and delight in this natural beauty.
Sitting by the woodstove I cannot help but reflect on our move to Port Hardy, almost twenty years ago. It a small multicultural town of forty-five hundred inhabitants. Built in the traditional territory of the Kwakiutl people; and bordering neighbouring Gwa’sala-‘Nakwaxda’xw, Namgis, and Quatsino bands, the community is strongly reflective of First people’s culture…..
Coastal First Nations Jewellery
Native artwork… alive with traditional earth tones, intricately carved cedar, paintings, and jewelry with ageless design form… blends seamlessly throughout the entire community. It graces the warmth of private homes and schools, while anchoring local shops and businesses to our rich, multicultural identity.
Totem poles, paintings, carvings, music, and other artistic forms can become welcoming bridges between people whose histories and traditions may differ. They create opportunities for connection that do not depend on language or experience. Through art, people can explore unfamiliar perspectives with curiosity rather than apprehension, discovering both the distinctiveness of another culture and the values we all have in common.
I view carvings and other Indigenous artistic forms as histories, identities, teachings, and living traditions… honouring the peoples, beliefs, and feelings connected to them. Through art our different voices remain distinct, yet brings out a common element of humanism. Who could forget that first deep breath of salty air…. An invigorating freshness immortalized by various artistic expressions through the ages; novelists, carvers, painters, and poets…. As in John Masefield’s 1902 poem Sea Fever… I must go down to the Sea again… The author, like me, longs to leave life’s stressful complexities behind and return to the simplicity of whales and fellowship.
I earned college tuition working in remote natural out-of-way places; small seaside camps and villages… from the Pacific coast to Arctic coastlines… remote places built on strong community bonds. The pace of life was slower and priorities tempered by a connection to the natural world… black berries, rivers of steelhead, clam filled shores, oceans of salmon, and forests filled with wildlife splendour.
One of my favourite recollections is working on the north Island of Haida Gwaii. The Islands are a rainforest paradise containing unique interconnected ecosystems supporting amazing flora and wildlife.
Haida Gwaii is nicknamed Canada’s Galapagos because of the archipelago’s unique ecological wonder. The group of islands, formally called Queen Charlotte Islands, is situated west across the Hecate Straight from Prince Rupert.
This unique island system was created by uprising plate tectonics eons ago. It is a utopia glaciers moreover bypassed during the ice age and as a result numerous rare plant and animal species & subspecies exist there spared from the frozen rigours experienced long ago elsewhere on the coast.
Imagine my thrill walking in a virgin forest on green thick pillow-like moss winding through towering 700 year old Sitka Spruce.
I first became fascinated with Haida Gwaii after reading a book called This Is Haida by Anthony Carter, published in 1968. The author describes the past and present artistic culture of the Indigenous Haida people. It is a wonderful book containing colourful photos accompanied by essay narratives. It showcased outstanding natural beauty of a people married to the environment. The appeal, I dare say, touches all who visit and live there.
Enthralled by the author’s descriptions, I resolved to work on and travel about the islands someday. As a young man, I did just that. I worked behind the historic hamlet of Skidegate, nestled on the sandy southwest shore of Haida Gwaii’s Graham Island. It was, and is, a remarkable Indigenous community named after an earlier village chief.
Years later a friend, knowing my passion for the Island’s beauty and culture, painted a picture of Skidegate and gifted it to me. This painting now serves as this article’s cover art.
Coastal British Columbia has afforded me endless possibilities creating wonder and gratitude for our Maker’s grand design. Days filled with scenic and magical moments enjoying spectacular interconnected ecosystems; the loud whoosh of a whales unexpected arrival, as a cloud of its steamy breath is expelled into the air… Who would not be uplifted by a raft of frolicking Sea Otters, carrying pups on their chest… or a Steller Sea-lion’s huge mass. Simple awesomeness that indelibly etches a lasting mark in one’s mind.
As a youthful dreamer, I leapt at the chance to earn my college tuition by logging a steep sidehill high above the remote, grassy flats of Moore Cove. It was grueling, character-building work. After flying into the isolated coastal camp just south of Prince Rupert, I found myself in a wilderness teeming with a remarkable diversity of wildlife. I took advantage of every spare moment to explore the cove’s many game trails, quickly discovering that the local wildlife seemed just as curious about me as I was about them.
Miles and miles away from city lights and pollution, the stars shone with unimaginable brilliance, creating a dome of sparkling diamonds from horizon to horizon. I felt as though I could reach up and rearrange them.
On one such occasion, while sitting quietly by a campfire admiring the starlit ambiance, the chilling howl of a timber wolf broke the silence… piercing through the forest blackness and lighting up my imagination! The mournful sound caused an instant alertness and a touch of fear. I realized I was utterly alone… yet inexplicably, I felt a greater connection to this untamed wilderness and an admiration for the sublime order and balance in nature.
At the end of the day I enjoyed camp life, the muscle toning work, camaraderie, and amazing cookhouse meals. The commonality and sense of purpose working together was comforting, and the feeling of closeness to raw wilderness was outstanding. My heart will forever chronicles the wonderful recollections of a logger’s life… and their tenacious zeal to work long and hard in whatever elements nature threw at them.
Later, another coastal opportunity arose commercial fishing on the FV Jolly Roger, a sleek teak 50’ freezer troller, with the Svoboda family…. An exciting seven month fishing season working along side friends. We filled the holds with salmon, trolling up and down Vancouver Island’s wild west coast… along the way we encountered sea lions, sharks, sea turtles and giant basking sharks… we fished out of sight of land on a sea where tall cresting waves could change to mirror seas overnight.
The Jolly Roger’s spotless white hull, stabilizing poles, teak upper structures, and self bailing deck was built for foul weather…. It’s bow sliced through rough seas effortlessly maintaining a steady course. We fished with great success frequently visiting friendly coastal hamlets & villages all along Vancouver Island’s west coast: Bamfield, Tahsis, Kyuquot, Esperanza, Ucluelet, Hot Springs Cove.
Commercial fishing meant working from sunup to sundown… long hours rewarded by fabulous meals. We slept anchored offshore lulled by the steady purring of a diesel generator. Occasionally, we were awakened in the silence of the night by the drumming of a passing freighter’s slow-turning propeller.
A massive ship produces a deep, low-frequency thrumming that travels great distances through the ocean. This isn’t just a sound you hear with your ears; it’s a vibration felt deep in your chest and through the teak hull of the boat. Sometimes it sounded like the freighter was bearing down on us, though it was actually miles away.
Fast forward to my professional career (as an Advanced Life Support Airevac Attendant) before retirement… Over the course of thirty years I would fly into many of the same small coastal outposts, villages, and camps I worked in as a college student….
I enjoyed the absolute privilege of caring for patients during their most vulnerable moments. I felt a deep, respectful connection when helping those residing in camps, remote hamlets, and villages… places and people that mirrored the kindred spirits and landscapes I had loved during my youthful wanderings.
Today, as a retired senior approaching eight decades of life, I still seek out new and remote places to explore. The Pacific Coast has many hidden treasures waiting to be discovered in its bays and fiords… a notion that became readily apparent when a good friend and I recently happened upon ancient artwork (pictographs) while boating in a nameless inlet. The artwork is variously estimated to be 500 to 1300 years old…
The artists painted on shear granite walls using red ochre colour available in natural minerals found in the area…. And thought to be the oldest and most widespread First People’s tradition.
Imagine the storms, wave action, and extremes of weather these pictographs have survived. If only they could talk… explaining the motivation behind the painter’s thoughts. Was it sadness or celebration? Are they messages for travellers, perhaps stern warnings, or simply musings of an ancient gifted person on a bright sunny morning with calm blue seas and a few bright fluffy clouds…. an artist’s recipe for painting on a granite canvas in British Columbia’s Pacific Northwest…
Well, the sun is high, the tides are ebbing, and the coffee is finished. It is time for Rosie, Christine, and me to venture out and spend this fine day looking for a new outdoor adventure… perhaps beachcombing and photographing the west coast, or clam digging at the Cluxewe Salt Marsh. The day is filled with possibilities.
Isn’t the Pacific Northwest Grand
Safe Travels
Gord Patterson
Photos © 2024 Christine Patterson