Mama and Those Johnston Kids watched my ablutions with some humour and wisely chose to let personal hygiene ride until we reached our next stop and more civilized facilities.<\/p>\n
We continued south to\u00a0Quesnel and stopped for supplies: Tim Horton’s, groceries, and gas. There we strolled along the longest wooden truss bridge in the world. 861 feet, if I recall correctly. 861 Feet<\/em>, however much that is.<\/p>\n Indigenous people are mostly\u00a0invisible in Canada, to non-natives. Sure, everybody knows we exist, but it sort of theoretical. Like knowing zebras exist, even if you’ve never seen one. Or elves.<\/p>\n I’ve been looking for Indians everywhere we go, and I’m finding it hard to find them. If I can’t find them on purpose, then imagine how unlikely\u00a0it is that\u00a0non-natives will interact in positive ways with the First People of Canada. We need to be visible. If more people were aware of us is more than an abstract way, I think we would be less likely to suffer at the hands of government. We would have more weight in Canadian society. I like the Village for that reason, among others. They’ve put themselves out there in a way that’s rare for Indigenous Canadians.<\/p>\n You see, most of us are embarrassed to be Indian. Just about every Indian I know will read that and protest loudly, but it’s true. When we say we’re Indian, we automatically associate ourselves in the eyes of the listener with every stereotype, real or imagined, with every sad soul sleeping in a doorway, with every repeat petty crime offender. We are ashamed of what we have become, even though we know damn well that it wasn’t our fault, that we were preyed upon.<\/p>\n At the same time we are also intensely, wildly, proud of being Indian as well. We speak with the voice of the wind, we speak for the land, we are the children of the Island. Our hands are clean. Say that about your ancestors. We are the fricking elves of North America and that is awesome<\/em>.<\/p>\n So you see, we’re of two minds and that makes all of us a bit nuts. We’re confused about who we really are and what are actual worth is.\u00a0That sense of confusion is really what the government wants, because it makes us more compliant. If we ever come to our senses, there will be hell to pay.<\/p>\n When we stopped for gas shortly after, Mama surprised me with a pouch of tobacco. We now have all four medicines: cedar, sweetgrass, sage and tobacco! We are ready for what may come. Curiously, I can’t stand the smell of cigarettes, but I quite like the smell of raw tobacco.<\/p>\n We arrived just after sunset in Whistler. A quick call about found us a hotel room for a price that wasn’t completely ridiculous – although very nearly, if you ask me. We thankfully stowed our toothbrushes in our comfortable loft and stepped out to stroll through the village after dark. The bars and patios were busy with tourists and the young, seasonal, foreign employees spending their wages. We bought microwave dinners at an all-night quickie mart in the village and retired to our room for mediocre pasta and cartoons.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The only facilities at 10 Mile Lake were outhouses and a water tap on a post that gave water so cold that it could give you blisters. I washed my hair until my head went literally numb, then towelled out the remainder of the lather. Then I shaved with cold water out of a pot, … Continue reading Pride and prejudice<\/span> ![\"\"](\"http:\/\/thosejohnstonkids.ca\/wp\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/08\/P7200749a.jpg\")
<\/a>There are some people that believe that there are places in the world that are nodes for energy, and that buildings and other constructions can focus or amplify that energy. I am not one of those people because I have yet to see any evidence for it, or personally experience anything like it. I have noticed that some places just seem to draw crazy people. Places like the world’s longest truss bridge, for example, which at 9 AM on a Monday was already attracting a motley collection of odd characters. I couldn’t see any good reason for the small town’s strangest denizens to gather at that particular spot, but perhaps there are mysterious forces at work, of which we are yet unaware. Wouldn’t it be ironic if the wisdom of the ages was only really accessible to crazy people?<\/p>\n<\/a>Across the street from the bridge was an historic Hudson’s Bay store, built a century ago or something like that. You’ll forgive me if I didn’t commit the details to memory. Kitty corner to the store was a public bench on which sat a trio of dissolute natives. I was struck by the ugly dichotomy. On this corner, a preserved icon of colonialism. On that corner, the forgotten victims of\u00a0colonialism, living like peasants on their own land, watching their wealth being consumed by interlopers. BC was never ceded to Canada<\/a>, so\u00a0Indigenous people in BC should be the richest population in the country. Instead they face the same difficulties as\u00a0all\u00a0Indigenous people\u00a0across the country.<\/p>\n<\/a>We went south from Quesnel\u00a0to the Xat\u015b\u016bll Heritage Village<\/a>. The tour was interesting. A young woman, in her second year of a pysch degree, patiently walked Those Johnston Kids around the site and answered all of our questions in detail. We found the pit house very cool, literally. It was about 10 degrees cooler inside, than outside. I will have to try to build one of those when we get home, perhaps at Cape Croker. Of course, I’m thinking about how to modernize the design with plumbing, electricity and floorboards, but the design is awesome.<\/p>\n<\/a>After the tour portion, we were brought to a pavilion where the elder on duty asked us what we thought of the place. We had a good conversation about the challenges of being native in Canada. I have this idea that we’re the elves of the Americas. We’re supposed to be at one with the land and all-familiar with natural lore. I know lots of Indians who couldn’t even start a fire with a match, much less find anything to cook on it. When we get old, we’re supposed to be wise and all-knowing. The elder laughed. “I don’t know anything,” he chuckled, “but they don’t know that.”<\/p>\n<\/a><\/a>It was a very hot day in our non-air-conditioned car, so we stopped for a swim at Three Mile Lake. The water was chilly, but Baby Girl and I didn’t care. We immersed ourselves quickly and swam out to the buoy supporting the swimming area lines, doing everything we could to avoid touching the icky bottom. It was gooey – like, up over your ankles kind of goo. Ew<\/em>. Short Pants elected to stay in the playground.<\/p>\n<\/a>A little south of Three Mile Lake, we stopped in at Chasm Provincial Park<\/a> to see, well, the Chasm. It was quite a big crack and I was impressed. The colours promised by the brochure were probably more vibrant to a geologist’s eye than ours, but it was still nice.<\/p>\n<\/a>With the driving, the heat, and the exercise, albeit sporadically, Those Johnston Kids fell asleep hard just as we turned off the Highway 99 south onto Highway 97. \u00a099 is the quickest way to Vancouver from Prince George, but 97 seemed to be more scenic as it passed through Lilloet and Whistler on the way to Vancouver. We <\/a>were amazed when we entered the truly astounding Fraser River Valley north of Lilloet. The scenery in the hot, dry environment is just incredible. Soaring cliffs, the abyssal river valley, scrub pine and rock. We were awestruck, while the kids snored. We tried to wake them, honest.<\/p>\n<\/a>We had an interesting pause in Lilloett, where we stopped just to clean the windscreen of insect carcasses. It was getting impossible to see through the carnage with the late afternoon sun shining directly into my eyes. While we cleaned the window, a friendly local stopped to suggest that we stay at Lilloet’s free campground on the other side of the bridge. We weren’t planning to stay in Lilloet, but we thanked him for the thought anyway. He\u00a0was a\u00a0Swiss emigre taxidermist who had come to Canada to live the outdoor life. He tried it for a while and realized that it was exceedingly difficult to actually live off the land, so he and his wife compromised and moved to Lilloet. Truth be told, it was pretty rustic. He bragged about it being the hottest and driest place in Canada. Bug and snake free too, owing to the dry climate and impassable Fraser River.<\/p>\n<\/a>It was a crazy, precipitous descent down the other side of the mountains, into Whistler. I kept wondering when the trailer would break free or push us over one of the many, many breathtakingly steep corners. It was really quite odd to be sitting facing downhill for so long, pressing against the steering wheel to stay firmly back in my seat. By the time we reached Whistler, I was dizzy with the smell of burning break pads. The car is falling apart. This trip may be the old girl’s last hurrah.<\/p>\n