Travelogue 2: Haida Gwaii

Boomerang Message from Raven

The archipelago of Haida Gwaii seems to be so fused with Dreamtime that they exist as a borderland where both Dreamtime and the Natural World are blended in a perfect indistinguishable union. Haida Gwaii is a group of islands that sits on the most western point of Canada off the north pacific coast. For a time, their name too was occupied, and they were referred to by a monarch’s name who had never been there.

My visit there was a beautiful disorientation of my views of life. The people there, though still experiencing the aftermath of colonization with its various scars still evident, had a profound sense of peaceful elegance and synergy with the land. It was as if they and the land and waters and the animals of the area were in constant holy communion. The northern temperate rain forest was a fountain of healing.

Through friends, I was privileged to be invited to a traditional feast in the home of a local elder. They explained to me that to the Haida food comes from and is a connection to the land, the sea, and to their ancestors. It was something, that to some extent, I felt I understood. We ate baked and smoked salmon, grilled halibut, venison with a variety of local berries, there was, of course, bannock (a quick fry bread) and k’aaw which is dried herring roe on kelp. K’waa is difficult to describe. It was like tasting crunchy berry-like seeds that marinated in the sea. That description may not sound appealing but the unique combination of flavors and textures was quite intriguing. I left feeling blessed and somehow more a part of this place.

The next day I walked into the forest to go fly fishing in one of the many pristine rivers. Fly fishing took on a romantic meditative quality after a friend described it to me, so I wanted to try it. It didn’t disappoint. On the bank of the river (I had no waders), I was just casting, waiting, and recasting all the while absorbing the magic of the land and water through the pores of my skin. Before going I picked up a few tips from YouTube videos and borrowed some equipment. It didn’t help much with catching any salmon. Nor I suppose did the fact that I had one ragged fly. It was a joy though when I spotted a salmon jumping up the river.

Truth be told I am horrible at fishing. Once, in an ocean fishing trip with my father off the Atlantic coast of Cape Cod, I caught only one old crab that I had to release and a few flying fish that were also released. Dad caught a dozen fish over the four-hour expedition. The older black gentleman on the other side of me laughed heartily at my efforts as the fish seemed to jump onto his line filling bucket after bucket. It was as if he was a Poseidon that simply needed to call his subjects to him. As we freed the flying fish from my line and released them, he told me that flying fish were sacred because they were transcending their nature. He then tried to offer me some advice on how to fish properly, but nothing seemed to stick for me. To be fair, I don’t know that I really wanted to catch anything except time with my dad doing something he enjoyed.

In Haida Gwaii, the green was varied and intense in the forest. The moss was so thick that it invited me to lie upon it after an hour of what only I would call “fly fishing.” When I lay down to rest on the spongy green and look up at the giants above me, the softness of it rivaled the best mattresses I had slept on. The insects themselves looked like fairies coming out of Dreamtime for a little play. I saw eagles, orcas, a river otter, and some deer. Each animal seemed as if it had a message, if only I could understand its language. And there were ravens too of course. A lot of Ravens. I would sit often outside, with my notebook in hand, watching them and talking to them.

Dreamtime

I’m reflecting on my life. I have had many wonderful experiences and successes but pain and hardship too. No different than most other people I suppose. I have learned not to weigh pain. Often, I see that I have been the cause of my own difficulties, other times my world bent sideways like a ship caught in a storm and I was thrown overboard. Nothing I could do about it. I look at the raven in front of me and ask without expectation, why did you tell me I would have to do it the hard way? After a moment I look at my notebook and read, “Oh that, I was mostly joking about that part. Don’t tell me you took it seriously.” I look up at the raven and he is croaking loudly. It sounds like laughter.

Many thanks to Enantiodromiac who inspired me, through his story, to write about my experience in Haida Gwaii. This is part of a collection of writing I am completing that travels between normal and nontypical states of consciousness, weaving them together like a tapestry of the mind.