It takes a village....
to raise a pole
by Berry Wijdeven
Photos by Mary Helmer, Josina Davis and Berry Wijdeven
by Berry Wijdeven
Photos by Mary Helmer, Josina Davis and Berry Wijdeven
When the Council of the Haida Nation and Parks Canada decided that the Legacy Pole commemorating the 20th anniversary of the Gwaii Haanas Agreement should be raised on Athlay Gwaii (Lyell Island), it seemed like a good idea. Athlay Gwaii, after all, was where the much heralded stand-off between the Haida and Canada took place which led to the creation of Gwaii Haanas. Problem was, that, apart from a few Haida watchmen, nobody had lived at Windy Bay, the site of the new pole, for a long, long time. It takes some 300 people to raise a pole. No problem, said the powers that be. If people no longer live there, we’ll just bring ‘m in for the occasion. Right....
It was sunny on Haida Gwaii. Very sunny. There hadn’t been any rain for forty days and forty nights. Islanders went about their business, slightly dazed from experiencing this much sunshine, absorbing levels of vitamin D mostly unheard of in these regions. South Easterly gales, the ones that slam into Haida Gwaii on a regular basis, were notably absent. If there ever was a good time to move a small town’s worth of people to a remote island, this was it.
But this is Haida Gwaii, where you learn to expect the unexpected. and a week before the pole was to be raised the weather forecasts started to change.Gone were the pretty pictures of the sun, the zero percent chance of precipitation, the by now soothingly predictable string of cloudless days.
Two days before the event was to take place, the organizers had to make the tough call. Sure it was still sunny, but the immediate forecast called for twenty-five knot winds. And rain. Twenty-five knots isn’t really all that much for Haida Gwaii, where we’re exposed to 50 and 60 knot hurricane force winds, but in this context, it was plenty. Getting to Lyell Island meant exposing a multitude of boats, both large and small, seaworthy and perhaps less so, to several stretches of open ocean.
But this is Haida Gwaii, where you learn to expect the unexpected. and a week before the pole was to be raised the weather forecasts started to change.Gone were the pretty pictures of the sun, the zero percent chance of precipitation, the by now soothingly predictable string of cloudless days.
Two days before the event was to take place, the organizers had to make the tough call. Sure it was still sunny, but the immediate forecast called for twenty-five knot winds. And rain. Twenty-five knots isn’t really all that much for Haida Gwaii, where we’re exposed to 50 and 60 knot hurricane force winds, but in this context, it was plenty. Getting to Lyell Island meant exposing a multitude of boats, both large and small, seaworthy and perhaps less so, to several stretches of open ocean.
![Picture](/uploads/1/2/6/9/126967338/published/village2.jpg?1566503272)
And then there was the matter of the site for the new pole, Windy Bay. Windy Bay has been given its name for a reason, as it is wholly exposed to south easterly storms, the predicted direction of the incoming threat. It would be safest to postpone the pole raising, to reduce the risk of injuries.
But postpone till when? A tonne of preparation had gone into making this event a reality and a lot of people had gone through considerable effort to make it to Haida Gwaii for this occasion. Sure, the event could be postponed for a few days, but the forecast, for whatever it’s worth around here, didn’t look very promising. The organizers, fingers undoubtedly tightly crossed, decided to go ahead. Game on!
But postpone till when? A tonne of preparation had gone into making this event a reality and a lot of people had gone through considerable effort to make it to Haida Gwaii for this occasion. Sure, the event could be postponed for a few days, but the forecast, for whatever it’s worth around here, didn’t look very promising. The organizers, fingers undoubtedly tightly crossed, decided to go ahead. Game on!
![Haida Gwaii - Moresby Explorers](/uploads/1/2/6/9/126967338/editor/village4.jpg?1566504269)
On the morning of August 15th, the day of the event, we woke up to conflicting reports. Even though it looked like the centre of the storm was going to miss Haida Gwaii, winds and seas were still going to be substantial. And when we drove down to catch the ferry to Moresby Island, it started to rain. We should have been pleased, I guess, for the islands were in desperate need of moisture, but faced with a two and a half hour trip at 30 knots in an open boat, all we could think was ‘damn’. At Moresby camp, where many of the boats were anchored, we got ready for the trip. All one can do to prepare for a trip in an open speedboat is to put on as many layers as possible and hope for the best. So we geared up and waddled into the boat, prepared to hang on for dear life. Fortunately the boat operators, Moresby Explorers, took pity on us and opted for the longer route, sneaking us through the inside of Talunkwun Island and diving into the protected waters off Tanu. But eventually all good things must come to an end and we too had to face the wide open water, traversing the treacherous stretch to Lyell Island.
![Picture](/uploads/1/2/6/9/126967338/published/village6.jpg?1566503733)
Yeah, it was rough. The ocean was alive, seething with large, rolling waves which bounced off the headlands, butting heads with oncoming sweepers. While our boat, a 15 seat Hurricane, could easily handle this type of weather, the passengers weren’t nearly as rugged and the captain had to continually throttle back to avoid the boat from getting airborne or smash into oncoming waves. The passengers in the front of the boat were getting quite the thrill, riding the bucking beast. And we were the lucky ones for smaller boats were getting tossed around much more. Some boats had to turn around, others never left harbour, opting instead to stay on shore. Kayakers, yes there were intrepid kayakers who made the journey, would disappear for extended periods until they crested a wave and miraculously popped back up again. Passengers on a 100 person yellow catamaran, brought over for the occasion from Prince Rupert and quickly dubbed “the banana”, reported plenty of over-the-railing offerings to the fish., it was rough. The ocean was alive, seething with large, rolling waves which bounced off the headlands, butting heads with oncoming sweepers. While our boat, a 15 seat Hurricane, could easily handle this type of weather, the passengers weren’t nearly as rugged and the captain had to continually throttle back to avoid the boat from getting airborne or smash into oncoming waves. The passengers in the front of the boat were getting quite the thrill, riding the bucking beast. And we were the lucky ones for smaller boats were getting tossed around much more. Some boats had to turn around, others never left harbour, opting instead to stay on shore. Kayakers, yes there were intrepid kayakers who made the journey, would disappear for extended periods until they crested a wave and miraculously popped back up again. Passengers on a 100 person yellow catamaran, brought over for the occasion from Prince Rupert and quickly dubbed “the banana”, reported plenty of over-the-railing offerings to the fish.
![Haida Gwaii - Rediscovery paddlers](/uploads/1/2/6/9/126967338/published/village7.jpg?1570645405)
And then there were the canoes. Thirty local teens who were attending the Rediscovery Camp at Swan Bay paddled for three days in traditional Haida canoes, through wind, rain and rough waters to make it to the event. By all accounts, it hadn’t been an easy trip, but they saw it through and made it. We had all made it and once we entered the relative protection of Windy Bay, everybody, including no doubt the organizers, breathed a sigh or two of relief. Sure, we still had to get home but we would worry about that later. First we had a pole to raise.
![Haida Gwaii - Chief GidKun](/uploads/1/2/6/9/126967338/editor/village8.jpg?1566503863)
The site was already buzzing and even the sun made an appearance. People were milling about, checking out the site, visiting with friends and acquaintances. “Hey good to see you! How did you get here? How was the ride?”
We crossed the creek to have a look at the ginormous spruce. It was massive, studded with scars and burls and looked like it had a story or two to tell.
At the centre of the site, amidst all the hubbub, laid the pole, looking more impressive than ever. Substantial work had been done since we last saw it in Skidegate. Many of the details were crisper and the pole also had more colour, though, as appears to be tradition, final paint was still being applied.
Lunch was catered, which must have been an interesting logistical challenge. Chief GidKun welcomed the guests to his traditional territory. Then there were a few speeches. What’s an event without speeches? The carvers danced around the pole after which it was blessed.
We crossed the creek to have a look at the ginormous spruce. It was massive, studded with scars and burls and looked like it had a story or two to tell.
At the centre of the site, amidst all the hubbub, laid the pole, looking more impressive than ever. Substantial work had been done since we last saw it in Skidegate. Many of the details were crisper and the pole also had more colour, though, as appears to be tradition, final paint was still being applied.
Lunch was catered, which must have been an interesting logistical challenge. Chief GidKun welcomed the guests to his traditional territory. Then there were a few speeches. What’s an event without speeches? The carvers danced around the pole after which it was blessed.
![Haida Gwaii - Gaagiixid - Photo Mary Helmer](/uploads/1/2/6/9/126967338/editor/village9.jpg?1566503958)
Then all hell broke lose. Women screamed and children scattered as Gaagiixid, the wildman, emerged from the forest. It wasn’t
until he was chased from the site that the festivities could continue.
until he was chased from the site that the festivities could continue.
![Picture](/uploads/1/2/6/9/126967338/village11_orig.jpg)
When it came time to raise the pole, it was all hands on deck. Once people had taken their positions at the ropes, there weren’t an awful lot of spectators left. Just enough people had been able to make it to Windy Bay.
Guided by an experienced pole raiser, the five rope pulling teams were given their orders. One, two, three, PULL! With a few heaves and a few groans the pole rose rapidly. There were a few tense moment as the pole over-balanced and faced off-centre. But like working a marionette, the puppet master instructed some lines to pull, others to slack off. This way the pole was straigthened and the front facing figurines squared. It took all of fifteen minutes. The pole, now proudly facing the bay, looked gorgeous, right at home, as if it had been here forever.
Guided by an experienced pole raiser, the five rope pulling teams were given their orders. One, two, three, PULL! With a few heaves and a few groans the pole rose rapidly. There were a few tense moment as the pole over-balanced and faced off-centre. But like working a marionette, the puppet master instructed some lines to pull, others to slack off. This way the pole was straigthened and the front facing figurines squared. It took all of fifteen minutes. The pole, now proudly facing the bay, looked gorgeous, right at home, as if it had been here forever.
For one afternoon, a few hours really, we felt like a village. We WERE a village. Made up of the young and old, Haida and other islanders, Canadians and foreigners. We had all made the effort to get here. We had gotten up early, paid our dues, ran the risk of sea sickness, of getting soaked. Together we shared an unforgettable experience. We had made it to Windy Bay. And we raised a pole.