A walk in Mi’kmaw shoes

Fishing, feasting, and sleeping in Metepenagiag

STORY AND PHOTOGRAPHY BY DARCY RHYNO

Steve Paul imagines a time when millions of salmon would’ve been going upriver.

“The riverbank was full of tipis and thousands of people just bustling and hustling, preparing food for the community to survive the winter,” he says.

Paul and I drift in kayaks with the gentle current of the Little Southwest Miramichi River past Oxbow National Historic Site in New Brunswick. If he hadn’t pointed it out, I would have admired the site as a lovely wooded area, nothing more. The community wishes to respect the integrity of the site, so there’s not even a plaque. Yet as Paul describes a typical day here some 3,000 years ago, I can imagine the summer fishing camp crammed with tipis and dotted with fires where families smoked salmon and sturgeon.

“It’s a truly sacred, spiritual place for us,” says Paul. He and his wife Florence recently started First Nations Tourism on the Metepenagiag Mi’kmaq Nation, a community of 500 in New Brunswick, to teach people about this sacred heritage.

Adjacent to Oxbow is a second national historic site. The Augustine Mound dates back 2,500 years. It’s a burial ground where artifacts discovered here in the 1970s link the Mi’kmaq to the Adena culture of the Ohio River Valley. The Ohio fireclay pipes, ornaments of Lake Superior native copper, stone tools, and textiles might have been lost forever to a gravel pit development, if not for Joseph Augustine, a former chief of the Metepenagiag nation who discovered the burial mound.

Oxbow National Historic Site, Metepenagiag Heritage Park.

Darcy Rhyno

I paddle with Paul to a quiet inlet in the forest. We nose our kayaks into the weeds. Paul points to the top of the tallest tree and whispers, “See the nest?” Atop the pine sits a stack of sticks that must be a metre deep. A bald eagle peers over the edge and I think, it’s no wonder Paul speaks of this as a spiritual place, a settlement with 3,000 years of continuous Mi’kmaw presence.

Canoe inside Metepenagiag Cultural Centre.

Darcy Rhyno

The glamping tipi at Metepenagiag Heritage Park.

Darcy Rhyno

In the afternoon, Paul takes me fly fishing, teaching me what his father taught him. “My dad was a guide for over 40 years to all the camps around here,” he says. “He had a love for the outdoors, and he passed that on to me.”

Paul selects a fly he tied himself, hands me the rod, and guides me to a good position in the river. He teaches me to flick the fly to the precise spot in the current where’s he’s hooked many a fish and encourages me to relax, to get into a rhythm.

“Fishing gives you a chance to disconnect,” he says. “You just listen to the water, pushing against you. You might see ducks or beaver, a deer crossing the river.”

As I practise my cast, it occurs to me that the act of fishing is itself the goal, rather than the catch. It’s a quiet, contemplative sport, almost meditative. Fishing with others fosters reflection and thoughtful conversation.

“Fishing also allows me to reconnect with who I am as an Indigenous person,” says Paul, “doing things on the land and sharing that with others. We’re striving to break down barriers and build relationships. We’ve been doing this since the arrival of people from other parts of the world to our lands. We welcomed them and shared with them our gifts. I want to continue that journey.”

I don’t land a salmon, but a cookout is on the itinerary. Paul tells me how his people share fish and other resources with each other regardless of their ability to contribute, as they have for millennia. In the spring, he and Florence gather hundreds of pounds of fiddleheads (the edible shoots of the ostrich fern), freeze what they need, and give the rest away.

“We just put a bin on our front lawn and send a message on Facebook that we have fiddleheads,” says Florence. “Just bring your own bag and take what you want.”

Planking salmon.

Darcy Rhyno

After a meal of planked salmon marinated in maple syrup with a side of fiddleheads, Paul shows me how to make dessert: an unleavened bread called luskinikn that he snakes around a maple branch, roasts before the fire, and slathers with butter and blueberry jam. Paul calls this version “bread on a stick.” It’s slightly smoky, crispy on the outside, and steaming inside.

As the fire burns low, the Pauls send me off to my accommodations with leftovers and gifts to take home to my family. A few minutes later, I arrive at Metepenagiag Heritage Park, overlooking the Oxbow and Augustine Mound National Historic Sites, to discover that my night in a tipi is actually a night of glamping. Inside, I find a comfortable queen-sized bed, electrical outlets, and Wi-Fi.

After dark, I head outside to take a few photos of the wildlife paintings decorating my tipi, which is lit from within. The only other light comes from the night sky overhead. Looking up, I am humbled by the thought that I’m peering at the same constellations that generations of Mi’kmaq have pondered from this very bend in the river for the past 3,000 years.

Bread on a Stick (Luskinikn)

Darcy Rhyno

Ingredients

1 cup (250 mL) flour

1 ½ tsp (7 mL) baking powder pinch of salt few drops of oil water

Directions water, pushing against you. You might see ducks or beaver, a deer crossing the river.”

Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl. Add the oil and enough water to make a dough. Don’t overwork. Roll the dough into a snake of about an inch in diameter. Spiral it around a freshly cut maple stick, making sure the dough will not fall off. Bake over an open fire, turning often to lightly and evenly brown. Serve with butter and jam.

Steve Paul wrapping luskinikn, a simple bread, on a maple branch.

Darcy Rhyno