Wednesday 23rd January
Surprise – it’s cold again. Although I don’t think the temperature quite dipped to the predicted –47C. After breakfast we put our skis on and headed south of the camp through a system of frozen beaver dammed lakes. Tall dark spruce trees lined the glades through which we skied and ever so often we had to fight our way up, over and through the shrubs growing on the long disused beaver dams. Skiing was easy and we all reached the lake where our guides had started a roaring fire long before the cook reached us on his snow machine. He brought with him ready cooked sausages which we reheated on the fire and they disappeared pretty fast. It’s amazing how good hot food tastes outside. Lots of people were rather cold by this stage and most headed straight back to the camp. A few of us stayed and braved the headwind for another few hundred yards to reach the intersection of the creek we were skiing on with the main river. Here our guides had drilled several holes in the ice and were baiting them with chicken drumsticks impaled on hooks the size of my fist.
They were not aiming to catch tiddlers! It was interesting watching Clarence set these night lines. He took two sticks – one with a fork, which rested on top of the second stick – which was more of a branch laid on the ice across the hole. The blue nylon line was tied onto the forked stick. Wrapping the line around his hand several times he tied the bundle in a quick release knot before poking the end of the stick, with its attached line underwater so that the bait rested on the river floor. The idea behind the coil was to provide an easy way of checking if the bait had been taken, and the stick was poked into the water so that the hole wouldn’t freeze up onto our fishing line. After the line was set, we all kicked snow into a large mound over the hole to insulate it and prevent freezing. All in all, we were left with four mounds of snow marked by branches sticking out the sides…we’d return in the morning to see what we’d caught. During the afternoon we were shown how to erect a tipi. The guides had already gathered about twenty tall, thin tree trunks, stripped of branches and bark. All the trees here grow very tall and slim – I can’t see tipi contruction working in Britain where the trees tend to be stockier and twisted. First Clarence laid two poles side by side on the ground and tied them together about a foot from their tips. Then a third pole was placed at right angles and tied on at the same place. A corner of the tent canvas was also attached and with the help of a few southerners the three poles were raised to form a tripod. Then the rest of us got in on the act, bringing the remaining poles and leaning them all the way around the tripod to form a cone. The poles were lashed tightly at the top by simply running round the outside of the circle with an unravelling coil of rope which was then pulled tight. The canvas was wrapped around with the help of another two poles and the opening pegged together with short sticks. Reaching the higher closures became the source of much merriment as it involved our illustrious leader climbing on the shoulders’ belonging to our tall American woodcutter. Their first attempt didn’t seem to be particularly successful, but either they tried again or the guides patiently corrected things as by the time I cuddled up in the tipi to sleep the opening was smoothly pegged, a wood burning stove had been installed and we had a plentiful supply of logs to keep us going until morning. (At this point I ought to admit that I slept right through and didn’t play any role in restocking the stove. I’m glad some of the others slept more lightly otherwise getting out of my sleeping bag would have been less inviting in the morning!)
After dinner we all gathered in the tipi and Clarence told us a bit about the Cree people. How their society functioned in the days before Europeans arrived. The changes that happened during and after “contact”. And how their society is trying to forge its way into the future. He also told us the Cree version of the Garden of Eden story. (The similarities between the myths of completely different cultures continues to amaze me.) I’ll probably get various aspects of this story wrong but here is the general gist as far as I can remember. In his story Man and Woman lived in the sky, but one day through a hole in the clouds they saw Earth – they saw trees and water and animals walking around…and naturally were curious. They persuaded a spider to weave a basket and let them down on a silken thread. He agreed but with one proviso. That on no account were they to look down during their descent. Well, off they went in their basket, down and down, closer and closer to the Earth. Finally, the suspense was too much for the woman and she looked down. (Why is it always the woman who ends up being the guilty party?!) The basket stopped just above the treetops and would go not further. What were they to do? Man and Woman called out to Moose who was walking below “Moose, Moose. Help us” they cried. Moose looked up at them and shrugged… “How can I help you with these hooves?” He replied. They asked various other animals and eventually Bear came walking by. He took pity on them and climbed up a nearby tree. The Woman jumped down from the basket onto Bear’s back and he carried her down the tree. Then he returned for Man. And that is why Bear is so highly respected by the Cree people – because Bear helped bring people to the Land. (Many apologies to Clarence for such a botched version of his eloquent telling of this particular legend! If you want to hear the proper tale you’ll just have to visit Moose Factory yourself!)
They were not aiming to catch tiddlers! It was interesting watching Clarence set these night lines. He took two sticks – one with a fork, which rested on top of the second stick – which was more of a branch laid on the ice across the hole. The blue nylon line was tied onto the forked stick. Wrapping the line around his hand several times he tied the bundle in a quick release knot before poking the end of the stick, with its attached line underwater so that the bait rested on the river floor. The idea behind the coil was to provide an easy way of checking if the bait had been taken, and the stick was poked into the water so that the hole wouldn’t freeze up onto our fishing line. After the line was set, we all kicked snow into a large mound over the hole to insulate it and prevent freezing. All in all, we were left with four mounds of snow marked by branches sticking out the sides…we’d return in the morning to see what we’d caught. During the afternoon we were shown how to erect a tipi. The guides had already gathered about twenty tall, thin tree trunks, stripped of branches and bark. All the trees here grow very tall and slim – I can’t see tipi contruction working in Britain where the trees tend to be stockier and twisted. First Clarence laid two poles side by side on the ground and tied them together about a foot from their tips. Then a third pole was placed at right angles and tied on at the same place. A corner of the tent canvas was also attached and with the help of a few southerners the three poles were raised to form a tripod. Then the rest of us got in on the act, bringing the remaining poles and leaning them all the way around the tripod to form a cone. The poles were lashed tightly at the top by simply running round the outside of the circle with an unravelling coil of rope which was then pulled tight. The canvas was wrapped around with the help of another two poles and the opening pegged together with short sticks. Reaching the higher closures became the source of much merriment as it involved our illustrious leader climbing on the shoulders’ belonging to our tall American woodcutter. Their first attempt didn’t seem to be particularly successful, but either they tried again or the guides patiently corrected things as by the time I cuddled up in the tipi to sleep the opening was smoothly pegged, a wood burning stove had been installed and we had a plentiful supply of logs to keep us going until morning. (At this point I ought to admit that I slept right through and didn’t play any role in restocking the stove. I’m glad some of the others slept more lightly otherwise getting out of my sleeping bag would have been less inviting in the morning!)
After dinner we all gathered in the tipi and Clarence told us a bit about the Cree people. How their society functioned in the days before Europeans arrived. The changes that happened during and after “contact”. And how their society is trying to forge its way into the future. He also told us the Cree version of the Garden of Eden story. (The similarities between the myths of completely different cultures continues to amaze me.) I’ll probably get various aspects of this story wrong but here is the general gist as far as I can remember. In his story Man and Woman lived in the sky, but one day through a hole in the clouds they saw Earth – they saw trees and water and animals walking around…and naturally were curious. They persuaded a spider to weave a basket and let them down on a silken thread. He agreed but with one proviso. That on no account were they to look down during their descent. Well, off they went in their basket, down and down, closer and closer to the Earth. Finally, the suspense was too much for the woman and she looked down. (Why is it always the woman who ends up being the guilty party?!) The basket stopped just above the treetops and would go not further. What were they to do? Man and Woman called out to Moose who was walking below “Moose, Moose. Help us” they cried. Moose looked up at them and shrugged… “How can I help you with these hooves?” He replied. They asked various other animals and eventually Bear came walking by. He took pity on them and climbed up a nearby tree. The Woman jumped down from the basket onto Bear’s back and he carried her down the tree. Then he returned for Man. And that is why Bear is so highly respected by the Cree people – because Bear helped bring people to the Land. (Many apologies to Clarence for such a botched version of his eloquent telling of this particular legend! If you want to hear the proper tale you’ll just have to visit Moose Factory yourself!)
Thursday 24th January
Yet again I slept well in the super warm sleeping bag. This time in the tipi with three of the other skiers. After yet another hearty breakfast we all set off and skied the same route through the lakes as the previous day. Stopping to check the night lines we were disappointed to find that no fish had thought our chicken drumsticks worthy of nibbling on. We continued to completely circumnavigate the island that our camp was located upon. Coming back along its western side we skied on a trail through some fasting lodges. Colourful rags, their once vibrant colours weather faded into subtler hues were tied round the trunks of nearby trees. On a later snowmachine journey Jeff explained to me that the cloths (in one’s favourite or a meaningful colour) were tied onto the trees after completing the fast. It reminded me of the way that in Britain ribbons are tied to trees in fairy places. (Like that small hillock in the Trossachs near Aberfoyle that I can’t remember the name of. Dunmyre?) Again we arrived back at the camp in time for a leisurely lunch. Then I succumbed to a suggestion that we repeat the same route in the afternoon – but backwards. Just four of us went and it was great fun ducking and diving along the twisting trail through the conifers to return to the fasting area. After dinner there were more legends, tall tales and stories. Throughout the trip people gathered either in the kitchen or, on warmer evenings, around the campfire to trade jokes and stories. So many stories. So many fascinating people with interesting tales to tell. I tried to be a sponge – sitting in silence and soaking up every word (sadly my brain resembles a sieve more than a sponge…but it was all fascinating at the time!) While I’d been away skiing during the afternoon some of the others had laid a spruce bough floor in the tipi. It smelt heavenly – guess what I slept on that night?!
Friday 25th January
Robbie Burns Day. Sadly no haggis or ceilidh for me this year. To compensate I skied the 14km back to Moose Factory singing almost all the way. Unfortunately my repertoire of Burn’s songs is limited to the first few lines of each and I branched out into the songs we used to sing during long journeys in the car while I was little. I’ll have to get those songbooks out again as my memory of words past the first few lines is competely pathetic! This time we skied to the Cree Village Eco Lodge where we were served lunch. This building is stunning. We ate in a spacious hall with an incredibly high pitched ceiling. Greg Williams, the manager told me that it was modelled after the Shabatwon – literally translated as “tipi with doors at each end” - which is a traditional winter dwelling for large families. Before the trip (but after I left Scotland!) Bill had sent an email asking us all to bring a gift representative of our region to give to the Cree. He had particularly requested that we didn’t bring any alcohol on the trip. But what could be more representative of Scotland than one of the whisky miniatures I’d brought with me for just such an eventuality. I really wanted to give them a present and as I didn’t have anything else to offer I discreetly wrapped up my bottle in a plastic bag and gave it anyway hoping that they would appreciate the gesture. For each of us there was a tamarack goose.
These were small versions of decoys that would be made from thin branches of the tamarack tree and placed in the marshes during spring and fall to attract migrating geese. By using such decoys and by calling (Clarence demonstrated the calls of several types of goose) the Cree hunters could bring the birds almost to within armslength. It was a wonderful thought and a gift I will treasure – especially as tamarack smells amazing. Just closing my eyes and breathing in the scent will revive the memory of my visit to Moose Factory long after I get back to the UK. Earlier in the trip the guides had mentioned that they’d been discussing us – as one would I suppose – and comparing our various personalities to animals. While we were all still seated Philip walked round the table, placing his hands on our shoulders and telling us our Cree animal name. I turned out to be mihcheshuu – young fox - I’m not entirely sure what a fox symbolises to the Cree (and was foolishly too embarrassed to enquire further at the time) but I think it should be interpreted as a compliment (as opposed to the sly, thieving British fox which I’m a bit dubious about being associated with.) I’d had a wonderful time getting to know our guides and beginning to learn about their culture. Greg, the manager of the Ecolodge seemed to be really friendly, the Lodge itself was amazing, I didn’t want to leave. So I didn’t. I asked if I could stay – no problem – I blithely handed over my credit card, took my bags upstairs and went to the train station with the others to document their departure… theirs, but not mine. It was quite a liberating moment!
These were small versions of decoys that would be made from thin branches of the tamarack tree and placed in the marshes during spring and fall to attract migrating geese. By using such decoys and by calling (Clarence demonstrated the calls of several types of goose) the Cree hunters could bring the birds almost to within armslength. It was a wonderful thought and a gift I will treasure – especially as tamarack smells amazing. Just closing my eyes and breathing in the scent will revive the memory of my visit to Moose Factory long after I get back to the UK. Earlier in the trip the guides had mentioned that they’d been discussing us – as one would I suppose – and comparing our various personalities to animals. While we were all still seated Philip walked round the table, placing his hands on our shoulders and telling us our Cree animal name. I turned out to be mihcheshuu – young fox - I’m not entirely sure what a fox symbolises to the Cree (and was foolishly too embarrassed to enquire further at the time) but I think it should be interpreted as a compliment (as opposed to the sly, thieving British fox which I’m a bit dubious about being associated with.) I’d had a wonderful time getting to know our guides and beginning to learn about their culture. Greg, the manager of the Ecolodge seemed to be really friendly, the Lodge itself was amazing, I didn’t want to leave. So I didn’t. I asked if I could stay – no problem – I blithely handed over my credit card, took my bags upstairs and went to the train station with the others to document their departure… theirs, but not mine. It was quite a liberating moment!
2 comments:
Hi Susie: Thanks for sharing your memory of the trip; it's like re-living it all over again (well, minus the cold). You are a good writer and I enjoy your sense of humour too :)
Susie, always looking out for your new posting. I added a comment but it's attached to an earlier post - not very clued up with this technology
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