Voyageurs in a Foreign Land

This is Canada, but traveling through Quebec is like traveling in a foreign land. Most of its population is French Canadian and the official Provincial language is French. All signage is in that language. At our campground outside of Montreal, there was a directional sign pointing to “Site Voyageurs” (which translates to Travelers Sites). That’s us – Voyageurs. Bob knows a smattering of French. I know maybe two words… merci and bonjour. Nevertheless, we bumbled our way into Montreal and spent a delightful day in the Parc LaFontaine area in the middle of the city. Montreal is considered the most European city in North America. At noon the air was filled with the peal of bells from all the city’s cathedrals and churches. It was a beautiful sunny day as we sat outside of the Maison des cyclistes Café drinking coffee and watching the many cyclists pedal by. Across the street was the Park, where adults sat on benches and children chased balls and dabbled in ponds. We walked through tree-lined streets of mixed ethnic diversity, with beautiful old brick European-style townhouses with wrought iron railings and ornamentation. We’ll write more about this later. ...P. L. Morningstar

A People Day

People are as much a part of this journey across Canada as the places we visit, and today was “people day.” It started this morning at the camper’s lounge when a local man popped into the room and announced, “A little frost like this’ll sweeten the turnips.” We smiled and agreed as if we knew exactly what he meant. He wore a baseball cap on his head, a North Country plaid wool jacket, and had a face that has seen a few years. He sat down next to us and gave us the lowdown on the fall color. “This isn’t the best year for color. We had a dry summer – actually we’ve had a three-year drought – the trees started changing color in August, just kind of brown rather than the bright reds, then rain came and they brightened up a bit before a windstorm came and blew the top leaves off.”

Then as we left Sault Ste. Marie I saw a young woman walking rapidly along the sidewalk. There was nothing unusual about her… just an ordinary person wearing jeans and a faded blue sweatshirt. It was what she held in her arms that caught my attention… a very large orange tabby cat. His front paws rested on her left shoulder and she bent her head to snuggle against his fur. I said to Bob, “There is a picture of love.” We stopped for a red light and the woman caught up with us, waiting for the light to change to cross the street. Though he did not try to get away, the cat seemed unsettled by all the traffic noise and when a big truck started up his eyes widened and he threw his head back and cried out – in fear, anger, or maybe pain – it is hard to know. The woman clutched the orange tabby gently to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around him, and again she laid her head on his fur, comforting him. I could not hear her but I am sure she was whispering to him that everything would be all right. The light changed and we drove off. A half-block away we spotted an Animal Health Clinic. There is no question where she was headed with her cat.

Then there was Mom’s Café on St. Joseph Island (population 200), the second largest fresh water island in the world, and one of the biggest producers of maple syrup in Canada. We were looking forward to having pancakes and maple syrup at Gilbertson’s Pancake House. Our taste buds were ready for it! But as with so many tourist attractions in this part of Canada, we found everything shut down for the season. This called for Plan B, which turned out to be Mom’s Café where the parking lot was full of cars. “Just sit anywhere you want,” the harried waitress said to us as she carried plates of food to a table of “good old boys” dressed in dungarees and wool shirts. There were no tourists on this island that we could see, so the busy lunch hour was due to local traffic. No pancakes and maple syrup on the menu, so we settled for sandwiches. I ordered the grilled cheese and it turned out to be just like home-cooking… two slices of buttered bread and melted Velveeta cheese, with a slice of dill pickle on the side… $3.95. We were almost finished when a woman came out of the kitchen carrying a dish full of what looked like sweets. She went to the table of guys, and each took a piece. Some people were leaving and she held out the plate to them too. Then she came to our table. There were Nanaimo bars, fudge brownies, carrot cake squares, and peanut butter bars. This must be Mom.

More about the Stone People

I have learned that the Stone People cairns I photographed yesterday are called Inuksuk. They were used by the Inuit People of Northern Canada as a directional marker that signified safety, hope and friendship. The Inuksuk was nominated for the Seven Wonders of Canada, a recent promotion on CBC’s Sounds Like Canada radio program. Here is what one of the nominators wrote:

“My nomination is for a simple pile of rocks. So simple that almost everyone has assembled one for the sole purpose of letting others know that someone has been there before them. … This symbol, so Canadian, was adopted by Vancouver as the official logo for the 2010 Olympics and immediately became a point of distraction in that some thought it represented only a portion of the country. In fact, it is almost impossible to travel any distance, on any highway in Canada without seeing an intentionally assembled pile of rocks. What better symbol to represent a country that is depicted around the world as one of the best places to live. A true Canadian Wonder!’

Tonight we are nestled in a grove of sugar maple at the Ratter Lake Campground near Sudbury, Ontario. Believe it or not we are enjoying the benefits of WiFi while sitting at a table in our trailer. This campground was written up in the Globe and Mail for operating such a far reaching hi-speed internet connection. Sometimes progress is wonderful.

... P. L. Morningstar

The Preempted Bear

We have been impressed by the ingenuity of the many small towns that we have driven through for the last 3000 miles or so. They have been the proud possessors of the Worlds Largest Fly Fishing Pole, the Worlds Largest Hockey Stick, they are Canada’s Capitol of Hockey, the Geographical Center of B.C, home of World's Most Famous Burger’s (I ate one of those and it was really very good), The Greenhouse Capital of the Prairie, and with the exception of the hamburger, we have been pretty immune to the new generation of P.T. Barnum inspired civic slogan writers.

Then we came to White River, Ontario. The signs leading up to town read: “Where It All Began” with a picture of Winnie the Pooh (Walt Disney version). Nah, it couldn’t be, we said. Then as we approached town there were banners everywhere with the logo and signs with announcements about the annual Winnie the Pooh festival, then a large well landscaped park appeared with the entrance lined with the banners and a huge multi colored sculpture of Winnie the P. himself in a tree eating honey. We were hooked. Immediate right turn into the park, trailer and all. But being adults - most of the time, we were still skeptical about how the Englishman A. A. Milne and his creation were connected to White River, Ontario (population 1000).

There is a large plaque in front of the Pooh in the tree statue. This is the story: In 1914 a Lt. Harry Colebourn, a Canadian Army Veternarian bought a black bear cub in White River while on his way overseas. He named the bear Winnie after his hometown of Winnipeg. While in England and before deployment to France he gave Winnie to the London Zoo for safe keeping. On his return in 1919 he made Winnie a permanent gift to the Zoo. Winnie lived there for close to 20 years.

It was not clear from the description on the plaque if Milne actually visited Winnie at the zoo or not. So I went on line this evening and found a website (The Page at Pooh Corner) which has the whole naming story including a picture of Winnie the black bear cub being fed by Lt. Colebourn and a later photo of a chubby adult Winnie being fed by Christopher Robin. Definitely not the Disney version.

Kudos to White River, Ontario.

Bob

Chasing the Red

I have oohed and awed over the fall color ever since we crossed the Canadian Rockies. Yes, it was mostly the yellows and golds of birch and poplar, with a touch of russet in the sedges and prairie grasses. But they are beautiful in their own way. Bob kept saying, “Wait until you get to the east coast. Then you will really see color… all the brilliant reds.” Today as we made our descent south towards Sault Ste. Marie, the birches were replaced by sugar maples and the hills were set on fire with color. We were told that the color is past its peak here, and several days of wind have stripped a lot of leaves off the trees – but for someone growing up on the west coast, this is breathtaking. We will continue to chase the red leaves all the way to the Maritimes and New England.

Stone People
As we have driven through Ontario on Highway 17, we have admired the granite cuts on both sides of the road. Of course they provide the perfect canvas for extroverts to paint names, initials, and slogans – but other people have chosen to erect small cairns on top of the granite cuts. Some cairns are simply a few rocks stacked on top of each other, but others are quite elaborate. I photographed these “stone people” today. I like to think the cairns bless this highway and all who travel along its way.

... P. L. Morningstar

Churches, Trucks, and Legos

23 September, Sunday
Portage La Prairie, Manitoba

We were looking for a gas station. We found a delightful white framed Anglican Church that was built in 1887… St. Marks, in Elkhorn, Manitoba, a small village of about 400 souls. It was 12:30 on a Sunday afternoon and yet there were no parishioners lingering after service. Then I saw on a hand-lettered signboard that service is held at 10:30 a.m. Bob and I were in the midst of taking photos when a car pulled up. An older gentleman got out of the car and came towards us. Bob asked, “Are you the priest of this church?” “No, I am the church warden.” We told him how much we admired the church and he said, “Would you like to see the inside? I’ll be happy to unlock it for you.” So we entered the small church, with “scissor” ceiling beams and a wooden attendance board on the wall that brought back memories of the Methodist Church I attended as a child. The pulpit came from an old fieldstone church that had been torn down. We learn that a visiting priest holds church service here once a month. Mostly women attend, “I guess women are more soulful,” the warden says. He shows us old photos of the church and of the Indian residential school that once was part of this parish. He hesitates, and then says, “You know we hear all about the terrible things that happened in the residential schools, but at the time we didn’t see it. It may have happened, but we honestly didn’t see it here.” He points to a couple of pieces of artwork done by a member of the church and then he excuses himself, “I’m sorry, but I have to pick up the organist now.” On the way out of Elkhorn, we find a gas station.

We have traveled over 2,000 miles from our home in Kitwanga, B.C. Seeing new places and people. Imagine my surprise when I look up at a transport truck passing us on Trans-Canada Highway near Grenfell, Saskatchewan and see “Kitwanga Lumber Co.” on the plastic wrapped bundles of lumber. It really is a small world.

We see so much to write about on this road trip. While Bob drives, I am busy jotting down notes with the intention of filling in the details later. But by the end of the day we are often too tired to go the extra mile. The Alberta Children’s Hospital in Calgary is one thing that I do not want to let slip by. When we first drove into Calgary we could see a large colorful building sitting on a ridge. It looked like nothing we had ever seen before. Bob said it looked like a Lego building, with bright trim in primary colors of yellow, red, and blue. At the campground where we were staying he mentioned it to a local. “Oh that’s the children’s hospital and it was designed by children for children… to be a friendly place. It’s meant to look like Lego building blocks.” Bob and I were very impressed. Tonight I went online for more information, and have come away even more impressed. “The vision for the hospital was to create a building that would reduce stress and promote healing. The interior has been designed to enable the delivery of family centered care, including sleeping facilities for parents in each patient room, a babysitting service for siblings of patients, a sacred space for spiritual activities, a pet visitation room and the Healing Gardens that surround the new hospital, giving parents and their children areas to heal, have fun and spend private time.” What a wonderful concept… the reality is even more so. ... P. L. Morningstar

Where Past is Present

21 September, Friday
Maple Creek, Saskatchewan

The sound of a train whistle pierces the prairie night. Somehow it is a friendly sound like the wave of an elderly woman as we walked past her home this evening or the bark of a neighborhood dog. This is cow country. A big sign in town says, “Support our Ranchers. Eat Canadian Beef.” Next to the train tracks is a grain elevator. I had been reading about this little town in a book by Stuart McLean called “Welcome Home.” He wrote it in 1992, so what were the chances that we would find his favorite places still here fifteen years later? Places like Carson Currah’s Bakery? Stuart wrote, “If you ever find yourself crossing Saskatchewan on the Trans-Canada Highway, you could do worse than drop down Highway 21 into Maple Creek for a coffee and one of Carson’s cinnamon buns.” Well Currah’s Bakery is still here, along with the best cinnamon buns I have ever tasted. We poured our own coffee from the pot and sat down at one of the five tables. Our hot cinnamon buns were brought to us on white ironstone plates, the melting butter dribbling over the edges. The buns were huge and filled with brown sugar, cinnamon, and raisins. We marveled that everything at the bakery was the same as Stuart McLean had described, even the screen door and huge variety of buns they offered. A bulletin board was near our table and we saw a poster advertising a CPR Steam Train ride from Maple Creek to Medicine Hat – a charity fundraiser for the Children’s Wish Foundation – to leave Maple Creek at 4:45 pm on September 21. This is September 21, and it is close to 4:45. Everything from here on is a dash and a flurry of activity including meeting the bakery owner Carson Currah, gulping down the last of our coffee, and rushing to the car to grab my camera. We get to the train tracks just as we hear a steam whistle. “It’s coming,” the crowd murmurs almost in unison. There is such excitement and anticipation as we all peer down the tracks at the headlamp that is coming our way. The hissing sound of steam and the beautiful black machine pulls in along with burgandy colored vintage dining, passenger, and baggage cars. Orange shirted crewmen descend upon the engine with oilcans, grease buckets, and whatever, just for a chance to be part of this rare occasion. Cameras frame the moment but cannot capture the emotion. It means something different to every person here, from the leather-faced cowboy to the small dark-skinned man of Asian or East Indian descent. I watch as this man moves toward the stationary engine and places his hands reverently upon the wheels, not in admiration but as some kind of remembrance. Then the steam whistle lets out a blast, the bell clangs, and the steam engine moves forward, chuff, chuff, chuff, picks up speed. A man near me exclaims, “God, isn’t that great?” The passengers wave. We wave. There are smiles everywhere. While we were drinking coffee and eating cinnamon buns at the bakery, Mr. Currah told us he remembers when the last steam engine went through the town he grew up in – “They took us school kids down to see it. It was a big deal. I remember when the first diesel train went through town too.” Everyone has a memory. Maple Creek’s motto is “Where past is present.” That was certainly true today. ... P. L. Morningstar

Rainy Nights in Calgary

The subject of this post sounds like a Country and Western song, but it is raining and we have stayed an extra day in Calgary. I wanted to find a replacement for the broken power cord on Morningstar's old Mac Book on which she does her photo editing. Calgary seemed like the best chance of finding a genuine Apple store and we did and they had a replacement cord and she is now back in the photo editing business as I write this. After we found the store we went to the Chinook Center which is the largest shopping mall in the universe or something like that. After wandering around like folks from the country we went on to a food coop for a much needed resupply. Very nice store. Great bakery. Even had a sushi bar. Calgary is experiencing a massive building boom because of the oil sands but seems to be handling it all with remarkable success. It's the second fastest growing city in Canada. The new architecture is stunning and the sense of prosperity is palpable. There are Help Wanted signs on virtually every business. As I struggled with the first urban guerrilla driving since years ago in Seattle, we noticed an absence of parking meters and parking lines painted on the streets. We thought, well that's generous - share the wealth. Wrong. According to the CBC news story "Goodbye Meters, Hello Parking Revolution" it turns out that today was the first day of the new parking system. They have replaced their old parking meters with solar powered stations that accept cash, credit card, or cell phone payments. And the lines are gone because you are charged by the amount of space you use, giving a financial incentive for smaller cars. The city has patented the system and they are already getting inquires from around the world. Very progressive city.

Tomorrow we continue East on Trans-Canada 1.

Bob

Travelog Update

Calgary, Alberta

Today I saw a black man walking on the shoulder of the Trans-Canada Highway. He had a reflective diagonal stripe on his shirt, much like construction workers wear for safety. He wore a small backpack. It was late afternoon and he walked west against the traffic, carrying a large white flag with something handwritten on it. At 90 km an hour, we were well past before I could read what it said, but the image of that man stays with me. What kind of statement was he trying to make, walking alone at the side of the highway? What was so important to this man that he would strike out on his own to carry a message, and what was his message? Some would call him crazy to do a stunt like this, with little chance of getting anyone’s attention, or having an effect. It is for that very reason that I admire his courage to stand alone for what he believes.

18 September, Tuesday
Mosquito Creek Campground
Banff National Park

We have snow… at our campsite. As we reached the top of Bow Pass this afternoon, we were greeted with a brief flurry of snowflakes. Bow Pass is the highest road pass in the four mountain parks at 6,849 feet. We are not that high here at Mosquito Creek Campground, but the air is cold and any moisture that falls is in the form of snow. We traveled the Icefields Parkway today, a 230-km drive along the backbone of the continent. It was built between 1931 and 1940 by men left unemployed in the Great Depression. We spent time at the Columbia Icefield Center, eating lunch and looking at the exhibits. Everything was very commercial, with motorized glacier tours the big thing. Bob liked pressing the red button to hear the pika call, and the bugling elk (on a wildlife exhibit). I favored the four-minute silent film of early adventuring across the icefields with packhorses and dogs.

We are impressed with the care given to wildlife in these Canadian National Parks. Campaign promotions state: Wildlife…keep it wild! “ If you see a bear, resist the urge to stop. If that bear loses its wildness, it probably won’t survive.” They have National Park Bear Guardians patrolling roadways and day use areas, working to keep both bears and people safe. “Please know that we humans are far more dangerous to park animals than they are to us. We come here to recreate, animals live here to survive. As visitors to their habitat, we have to take special care in how we share the land with them.” Highway fencing along the Trans-Canada Highway where it transects Banff National Park helps to reduce vehicle-wildlife collisions, while new wildlife crossings will help maintain or restore wildlife movements vital to sustain healthy wildlife populations. The 24 existing crossings, monitored since 1996, have been used by 11 species of large mammals. There is no other location in the world with as many different types and number of wildlife crossings.


17 September, Monday
Jasper National Park

We have been on the road for a week now – passed the 1,000 mile mark. We left the Lac Le Jeune campground at around 9 am. Reached a small spot on the road called Avola. We needed gas and Bob pulled into a local station. A young man dressed in blue Bermuda shorts, grey t-shirt and wearing a floppy hat and work gloves jumps out, grabs the gas nozzle and says, “Fill it with regular?” It is a rare occasion to find service at a gas station anymore and Bob hardly knows how to handle it. So he goes inside the station and talks with a CN railroad employee. He tells Bob that 200 trains a day run on this track. That will triple when the Prince Rupert container port is completed. As we were leaving Kamloops, we watched a massively long trainload of doubled container cars roll past, most of the containers marked CHINA SHIPPING.

It was time for some lunch and there was a big sign nearby for the Log Inn Pub – “World Famous Burgers.” Well, why not? So we drive down the gravel road to the Log Inn. Two Harley Davidsons are parked out front. A big man greets us at the door, “How’re you doin?” We walk inside, assailed by the smell of cigarette smoke. There is a pool table, Harley memorabilia covers the wall, a bear skin rug is draped over a sectional sofa by the window. The riders of the Harley Davidsons are inside, all leather, bandanas, earrings, tattoos, and with long hair and beards. A couple is playing pool, they’re also tattooed. “What can I get for you?” the big guy says. Since we came for their “World Famous Hamburgers,” Bob says, “A couple of hamburgers.” The guy says, “Sure, they’ll take about 30-minutes.” So we sit down and wait. Maybe the hamburgers are famous for how long it takes to get them. We watch trains go by from our window table; two freight trains and one passenger train, “The Rocky Mountaineer.” Then we watched repairs being made to a yellow backhoe across the road. The hamburgers finally come… BIG, juicy, and grilled rather than fried. Despite the biker atmosphere, everything was spotless, energy-efficient light bulbs were in use, and a lifelike battery-operated puppy lay in a fluffy basket on a chair next to the door. Don’t know what that was all about! “Have a good trip,” the man calls out when we leave. He is from Alberta and just helping out the owner who is his friend.

We hear a weather forecast on CBC Radio – frost is predicted for some areas by morning and snow at higher elevations. As we drive closer to the Rockies, we see new snow on Mt. Robson. We pass the headwaters of both the Fraser River and the Columbia. And we stop at a park and a mountain dedicated to the inspirational Canadian runner, Terry Fox.

Marathon of Hope – Mount Terry Fox

“Terrance Stanley Fox (1958-1981), most commonly known for being "Marathon of Hope" runner, was born in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada on July 28th 1958. He was raised in Port Coquitlam, British Columbia and was very athletic beginning at a young age. In 1977, while studying kinesiology, Terry Fox was diagnosed with a rare form of bone cancer. As a result, his right leg had to be amputated six inches above his knee. Terry Fox always persevered, and during his recovery, he developed the idea for the "Marathon of Hope". The "Marathon of Hope" was to consist of a run across Canada to raise both money and awareness for cancer research. Terry Fox began his run on April 12th 1980 in St-John's, Newfoundland. In the beginning, he drew little attention, but as time passed, his campaign gained momentum as donations began to steadily mount.

On September 1st 1980, in Thunder Bay, Ontario, after 143 days and 5,373 kilometers, cancer was discovered in his lungs and Terry Fox was forced to stop his run. It was during his "Marathon of Hope", running 43 km a day through the Atlantic provinces, Quebec and Ontario, that he inspired a nation and people around the world. Terry Fox passed away on June 28th, 1981, one month before his 23rd birthday. His dream was to collect $1 from every Canadian. That dream was soon realized. To date the Terry Fox Marathon of Hope, which is held in 60 countries around the world with thousands of participants, has raised an estimated $250 million for cancer research. For his heroic efforts and perseverance, a mountain in British Columbia was named in his honor.

Jasper is a little spendy… or I should say, a lot spendy! Last night we paid all of $8.00 for our camping spot. Tonight we paid $196.00 at the Lobstick Inn, and were told we were getting a special deal at that. A lot to pay for the luxury of a hot shower and wireless Internet connection.

16 September 2007
Lac Le Jeune Provincial Park
(South of Kamloops)

The rain patters on the roof of the trailer. We have gotten our winter jackets out of the Jeep. I didn’t expect to do that so soon. We left Hope at 9:30 this morning, taking the Coquihalla Highway 5 North. We know we are getting into mountain territory because of the road signs… “High Mountain Road, Sudden Weather Changes, Be Cautious,” and “Steep Runaway Lane,” “Winter Driving Conditions, Watch for Snow and Ice,” and “Avoid Cruise Control When Road Is Icy.” We top the Coquihalla Summit at 1,220 meters. Clouds and mist. Everywhere you can see the spreading scourge of red – pine beetle destruction; some hillsides hold only blackened dead trees – the last stage – looking like a forest fire has just swept through. I can see trees other than pine with tinged with red. Later I ask a park ranger about this and he says that spruce trees are beginning to be effected also.

Outside of Merritt, we stop at a tourist information building… Bob wants to find out if there is a Tim Horton’s in Merritt – we have had no coffee this morning. There is a tour bus parked along the side of the building, its passengers clustered around a concession stand. The minute we pull up, people start staring at us, or I should say our trailer. Cameras come out. One man speaking broken English with a German accent asks me if he can take a picture of the Jeep and trailer. I say, “Sure, go ahead,” and leave him snapping away.

We’re in luck. There is a Tim Horton’s at the next exit to Merritt. Just as we are pulling in, two twenty-something guys running up the road say, “That’s so funky. I want one!” referring to our trailer. Fortified with Tim’s coffee and four apple toffee Danish, we get back on the road and head north. We decide to overnight at Lac Le Jeune Provincial Park. It’s close to Kamloops. We find a nice spot at the edge of the lake, unhook the trailer, and pull it up and around by hand… much easier than backing in.

There are chipmunks, Douglas squirrels, ravens, flickers, golden-crowned kinglets, woodpeckers and one lone Canada goose… I think he got left behind. Some inconsiderate people with a dog hike by, allowing their dog to chase after every living thing around. I finally say, “Why don’t you stop your dog from chasing all the wildlife. You should have him on a leash.” Bob adds, “It’s a park regulation that dogs be kept on a leash.” They didn’t even look at us, but we notice when they come back, there dog is nowhere to be seen.

Later the Park Ranger comes around to collect camping fees. We ask him about the pine beetle infestation. He tells us that until two years ago, this was a heavily forested park. Now all the campsites have a lake view! The mountainside across the lake shows the telltale red creeping through the green canopy. The Ranger says, “It has increased by ten percent since spring.” Spruce trees are dying too. Seven spruces by the lake are marked for cutting down this fall. Climate change is partly to blame for this massive infestation, brought about by human intervention such as suppressing forest fires, which is a natural cycle in healthy forests, and the logging companies in the past have replanted with lodge pole pine, which was never the primary evergreen in this area. There are three times the number of lodge pole pine that were here ninety years ago. The reason for planting them is that they are fast growing.

We decide to drive into Kamloops to see what it is like, so we can plan the day for tomorrow. My God! It is huge, and ugly. Everywhere are new, massive townhouses, condominiums, hotels with waterslides, motels, shopping malls with BIG box stores, housing developments terraced up the mountainsides. A big yellow plastic inflatable fish smiles from the rooftop of Joey’s Seafood Restaurant. There was nothing that made us want to hang around for another day to explore Kamloops. So we will keep going.

The Journey Begins

Never have I felt more need to find hope than now, when the world is being assaulted on every level by greed, corruption, ignorance, intolerance, shallowness, mindless over-consumption, and indifference. There has been a greater outpouring of grief on the tenth anniversary of Princess Diana's death than for all the millions of innocent lives that have been lost during the U.S. occupation of Iraq and Afghanistan, or for the plight of indigenous people around the world who are losing their homes and way of life through climate change. News coverage for such notables as Paris Hilton and Michael Vicks trumps serious news that affects us all. When I am not filled with outrage, I am overwhelmed with a deep sadness and despair. It is not how I want to live the rest of my life, thinking there is no hope. So I begin this journey across Canada and the United States, looking for points of light in the dark tunnel of today's doom and gloom, looking for the small acts of human kindness, the courage of individuals to stand up to governmental and corporate oppression, communities that are finding better ways to provide jobs and a quality of life for all its citizenry - sustainability, justice, non-violence, and stewardship. I am looking for the promise of something better. I am looking for a reason to hope that when I die there will still be a future for this beautiful home called Earth.

When I talk of looking for hope, I don't know what that will be, but I know what it will feel like. I know because I felt it while attending a crest pole raising at the First Nations village of Kitselas (near Terrace, B.C.) in August. I watched a community come together, young and old alike, to celebrate the first pole raising in 140 years. Their joy and cultural pride and sense of accomplishment could be felt by all who participated in the event. When so many of the native villages in northern B.C. are dealing with drugs, alcohol, suicide, unemployment, and domestic violence, this successful project by the Kitselas community was cause for celebration. The elders spoke, the carvers and clans were honored, everyone helped to carry and raise the beaver and bear poles into place, there was dancing, laughter, and smiles everywhere. Even a Royal Canadian Mountie in full dress uniform joined in the butterfly dance. The threatening clouds parted to reveal sunshine as the celebration concluded with a salmon barbecue. It was a day when hope warmed my heart, bursting through the frozen ground like spring's first blossom. That is what hope feels like, and it is what I am looking for as we journey across the byways of North America in the next few months.

P.L. Morningstar