 |
|
Day 8 - 10: in the bush with Oujé-Bougoumou Crees Mistissini to Oujé-Bougoumou
We left Mistissini and headed to Oujé-Bougoumou where we had arranged to spend two nights in the bush with Anna and David Bosum, joining the communities annual Walk of Healing. This was an opportunity to see how the Cree can comfortably live outdoors in what appears to be a hostile environment.
The sign to Ouje stands across from a large logging operation. We were met in town at the gas station and followed a truck down a snow covered road for about 12 miles, where our leader stopped, turned around, pointed into the woods and said "Walk on that trail and you will find the camp. In a couple hours a snowmobile will meet you and take you the rest of the way in." And he left.
We suited up with our packs and snowshoes, but with an uneasy feeling since we weren't going into this self-sufficient; we really needed to make this snowmobile connection, since we were not packing a tent or food.
And into the bush we walked... for about two hours we wandered through woods and open areas, it was wonderfully silent, and in the trees we were well protected. Crossing the open bogs, however, were often windy and cold. After we snowshoed about seven miles, our guide eventually arrived by snowmobile and took us the rest of the way to camp.
The camp was not exactly the traditional camp I had envisioned. It was a culture clash, with the Cree choosing anything modern that suits their needs, along with the old-world knowledge to rely on the natural world as it suits their needs. A small fleet of snowmobiles towing trailers packed in all the gear I'd expect a Boy Scout club from New Jersey to bring: chainsaws, fuel cans, tents and sleeping bags, potato chips and soda, walkmans and cell phones. everyone was busy doing the endless tasks needed to set up a new camp, in addition to being tired from a days walk.
Our task was to pick a site for our tent. This looked about the right size, and we began to stomp around with our snowshoes to pack the snow down.
The next step is to cut down a dozen trees to make lodgepoles out of. The tents are canvas shells that rely on poles to be cut on site. The boughs are stripped and used as a floor.
Stakes are cut to hold the walls against the snow, which is shoveled up from the outside. Once a rough floor is laid down, finer boughs are 'stitched' into place, making a smooth and even surface that traps the warm air.
Poles are driven through the snowpack to the frozen ground (about 30 inches below) which will hold the woodstove. They explained that if you don't drive the posts to the ground, they will slowly sink into the snow and your stove will fall over, lighting the tent on fire. That's a handy piece of knowledge.
Soon a finished tent is erected, complete with woodstove.
On top of the spruce bough floor, we were given a pair of bear skins to put our sleeping bags on. We also had foam pads, and a heavy set of winter sleeping blankets. Plus most of our clothes. When the fire is raging the tent is warm, but when it goes out you are quickly reminded it is below zero outside. It's a small stove, and would burn through it's fuel in less than 30 minutes. The mornings were very cold.
And now we have a home in the bush. Complete with a bag of chips, just like home. This was the first time I redefined a 'warm home' as being a place I could still see my breath. We put our frozen bottles of water under the stove to thaw. I really wanted to drink water, as I felt dehydrated from the walk, but then again I had no interest in going outside at night to pee. I decided to choose dehydration tonite.
A walker arrives at camp after the 15 mile trek
Other walkers arrived to camp and in this case, the thawing of the puppy began.
Just like any other gathering, it seems people like the kitchen best. My camera struggled going in and out of the tents, from moist air to frozen air, and back again, hence the blurry images.
The camps settled down at night, gear was stowed and covered, and snowfall began. We got about 8 inches of snow, which insulated the tents well. the group we joined had been in the bush for two weeks, and had a few more days to go before walking into town. We only spent two nights in the bush, had one short walk of seven miles, followed by a full day of 15 miles, and the second night we camped a hundred yards from our truck. We needed snowshoes, but didn't have to break trail, as the snowmobiles made a nice walking surface for us. Over that distance the group spread out so most of us walked alone, which is what is supposed to happen. It is a time to reflect, to think, to ponder our lives and our place in the world. For me, it was a great opportunity to reflect on my life, as well as this trip, and my experiences in this new landscape and new (to me) culture. The Cree are rapidly becoming integrated to modern society. The current teenage generation went from no phones to cell phones, from canoes to new Ford trucks, from woodstoves to 200 channels on a satellite TV. There is no turning back, and little incentive to learn the ways of their elders. Our first night we enjoyed a great meal of walleye and moose meat with mashed potatoes. The second night a very excited boy opened our tent door and said "Time for chicken!" I was puzzled... there are no chickens here. As we entered the main tent we saw boxes and buckets of Kentucky Fried Chicken, french fries and gravy, macaroni and cheese, bottles of Pepsi and bags of brownies. It turns out the kids were sick of beaver, fish and moose, and since we were camped near a road (and cell tower) they called some friends to deliver KFC. Because it was so close! Which meant about 40 miles. One of the boys lifted a chicken leg and laughed "For the elders!" to which another replied "They would've loved KFC if they had the chance!" Much giggling ensued. In the morning Anna cooked bread and made pancakes on the woodstove, while using her sat phone to make sure the road was plowed so we would be able to safely drive out. Her husband David told us about the first aid skills his elders taught him, which came up in conversation because he was lugging around a big plastic toolbox filled with bandages and modern first aid stuff. He commented that was not really needed, all you really needed was sap from the spruce trees. That cures almost anything. He told us of the time as a younger man when he hit himself in the shin with his ax, which leaves a severe cut. His father filled the gash with spruce sap, and if you do so, and leave it there until your body heals naturally, you will have no infection and little scarring. Anna told us of the plants that can be used to make tea and other herbal remedies, reminding us that everything man needs to live well can be found in the woods around them. And there lies the irony, the unfortunate reality, the truth - we are destroying the woods and natural world around us at an alarming pace. The very resources that a previous generation learned would keep them alive, are now traded for money, with which we buy a realm of manufactured products to keep us alive, redefined within a new expectation of what a good life means. It no longer means food for the winter, time with family, or the changing of the seasons. It means new trucks, modern homes, wide screen televisions and health care. It means a few generations removed from living off the land, and a land that may not be worth living on. With these somber thoughts in my head, we left the Cree and began our drive back to the States.
Just to remind us we weren't out of the woods yet, we stopped for fuel in the town of Waswanipi, population 1200. We drove up to this gas station and kept on going, it looked deserted, with dismantled gas pumps and a broken window at the storefront. We drove out of town a hundred yards later, and thought "Was that it?" We needed fuel, so we turned around for a second look. this was the gas station, and of the four pumps, one handle on one pump worked, and we refueled. The shop only took cash, and couldn't make change. I was waiting for the soundtrack to The Twilight Zone...
As we dropped south the temperatures warmed up and the road surface offered an evil concoction of sand and ice. It would pack in around the wheels and melt a groove that worked in a straight line, but when you pulled into town and tried to turn it would make awful noises... that icepack was over 10 inches thick and I could not chip it out. It shattered sections of the rear fender liners and mudflaps, all the plastic parts were rigid and brittle.
As the roads cleared and southern temps warmed up, so did my speed... luckily this officer spoke only french, and I speak only english. He pointed to the speedometer and gave me a thumbs up, which I think meant 'too fast', not 'good job'. In the end he said 'Have a nice day' and drove off. Which we did, on to Val D' Or for the night, and then a long pitch to Vermont and home to Maine. I'm already thinking about a summer drive to James Bay...
Day 1 - 2 of the James Bay Trip Day 4 - 5: Radisson to Waskaganish Day 8 - 9: in the bush with Oujé-Bougoumou Crees
|
|
