Landlines: Reflections on movement in Indigenous space

LANDLINES REFLECTIONS ON MOVEMENT IN INDIGENOUS SPACE JONATHAN TAGGART

LANDLINES REFLECTIONS ON MOVEMENT IN INDIGENOUS SPACE JONATHAN TAGGART

acknowledgements

I have benefitted greatly from the ongoing advice and support of Dr. Phillip Vannini, without whom this volume would have been next to impossible to research and produce. I am also grateful for the valuable input provided by Dr. Virginia McKendry and Persilia Caton of CONTACT Gallery. To Phillip, Virginia and Persilia: thank you.

I am also indebted to those who have been my gatekeepers, guides and conversation partners over the course of the last six months.

K’ukwstum’ckacw to Vern & Sylvia Shanoss in the territories of the InSHUCK-ch Nation, and to Mark & Marie, John & Gerry, and Charlie for their valuable insight. Quyanainni to Alana and Pippa at the Aurora Research Institute in Inuvik for their unending hospitality, to William and Jamie for their expert guiding, and to Hank and Chuck for sharing their stories and their time. Finally, Haawa to Cait in Queen Charlotte for the connections and the couch, to Alan and Dale in Port Clements, to Nika at the Kaay Centre, and to Kevin and the Elders at the Skidegate Haida Immersion Program for their lessons in both Haida and Mollusca.

Contents

Introduction

4

Chapter 1: In-SHUCK-ch Territories

8

Chapter 2: The Mackenzie River Delta

36

Chapter 3: Haida Gwaii

70

Conclusions: Conduits, Meshwork, Concentricities

98

Notes

102

References

109

3

introduction

This book is the result of several months of fieldwork in remote Indigenous

something of a concerned existential crisis. In Haida Gwaii I experienced an

spaces–a continuation of my work as a photojournalist and an opportunity

indigenous space undergoing a rapid process of decolonization: non-Haida

granted me through a research assistantship with Dr. Phillip Vannini of

schoolteachers and youth were spearheading language preservation efforts

Royal Roads University. I had originally set out to explore the social and

and driving the length of the island daily as social workers with the Council

economic disparities that exist in Canadian Indigenous communities, as set

of the Haida Nation, and entire communities, Indigenous and otherwise,

against the rest of the country , with a view to situating these disparities in a

were uniting in opposition to a large-scale environmental threat. My view of

particular geography of isolation and disconnection. It was a naive endeavor,

Indigenous space exploded as I re-envisioned culture and practice spilling

although one that was inspired by experience and education: I had arrived

beyond the lines of the reserve, over beaches and across waterways in

at this interest through previous involvement with British Columbia’s

defiance of any attempt at government enclosure and the tyranny of history.

In-SHUCK-ch Nation, during which I photographed substandard housing

In mentally re-configuring that space, my position within it naturally shifted:

conditions and issues of isolation in their traditional territory. As well,

there I was, as passenger and participant, present to feel all the splashes and

symptoms of other disparities have been well-documented and can be seen

jabs of an urchin-gathering excursion15. I felt that I could now view myself

in Aboriginal over-representation in the criminal justice system2, in the

as an active part of that defiance–a position I had always hoped to hold but

child welfare system , and in instances of substance abuse , prostitution,

struggled to have confirmed. It was a radical reframing, and one suggesting

and sexual violence5. These symptoms, it has been argued, stem largely from

that a better understanding, and a more open perception, of the lives lived

the initial displacement of Indigenous peoples from their lands through the

in these spaces and the issues faced by these communities could be obtained

Indian6 reserve system7, and the displacement from their cultures through

not through exploring their location and arbitrary containment, but rather

the Indian residential school system that followed its inception . Together

by reflecting on the ways in which movement occurs within, around, and

these systems formed a federal policy that offered Indigenous Canadians

through them16.

little freedom9–the choice to assimilate or atrophy–and were collectively

Over the past few years I have come to view the act of photographing

justified by a view of Indigenous peoples as second-rate citizens10.

simultaneous as an act of solidarity and a means of coming closer to

Despite my lofty-yet-abstract goal of contributing to social justice

understanding. This solidarity exists in the sense that I am fortunate enough

efforts11 as a visual communicator, I had been increasingly frustrated by the

to be able to work with communities whose concerns I share, albeit usually

observation that work such as mine often does little to contribute at the

on the level of non-stakeholder; this understanding, partial as it can only

community level and less to influence policy–the result being the continuation

be, is a result of sharing in the lived experiences of a community, albeit for a

of negative stereotypes about Indigenous communities . In many ways

short period of time. I argue that one cannot be a humanistic photographer

my initial intent presupposed that Indigenous spaces are clearly defined,

without participating in the life of a community at a basic human level17–

contained as if in 2-dimensional space by the lines of Indian reservations13,

an involvement, or series of involvements, that over the past few years has

and that crossing an historic and often arbitrary threshold would be as

seen me picking tomatoes in community fields18, tracking down barbecues

wholly definable as a submersion in ice water14. But Indigenous space has

for birthday parties19, coordinating moving days, and recently, cleaning

no meniscus, and somewhere in the middle of Haida Gwaii, while trying

clams, gathering urchins, and helping to check on salmon nets. Whenever

desperately to avoid a literal submersion as I canoed across a narrows in

possible these involvements actively give back to the community, not out

search of delicious guuding.ngaay for the elders in Skidegate, I found myself in

of a sense of moral obligation but as a way of conveying gratitude for time

1

3

4

8

12

5

given and stories shared, sometimes in more tangible ways than others. Over

the challenges facing many Indigenous communities, and in aiding in their

the course of researching for this book I was able to draw on government

mitigation.

funding for honoraria with which to give thanks, and in the past I have

shown my gratitude through the in-kind contribution of visual materials to

stories shared and experienced in Indigenous spaces in British Columbia and

support treaty negotiations, as was the case with my involvement with the

the Northwest Territories28. This book is a distillation and memorialization

In-SHUCK-ch Nation20. In addition to giving back, I place great importance

of six months’ worth of relationships and revelations, compiled in such

on building trust21, and in this sense I realize that I may be hindered by

a way as to allow me to give thanks for the relationships formed over

historic precedent.

the course of this fieldwork and to seek validation of the knowledge

The precedent I speak of is a history of exploitative photography–

co-constructed through them. It is important to share these experiences

photography undertaken largely by non-Indigenous photographers for the

with the communities from which they emerged, and to this end merging

purposes of constructing alternate narratives about Indigenous people22.

online platforms make it easier than ever to share books; I have learned over

Among these narratives is that of the romanticized, pre-contact American

the past few months that even communities in extreme isolation hold fast

Indian, idealized in the turn-of-the-century images of photographers like

to their internet connections to the outside world29. The book form is more

Edward S. Curtis. Curtis had the best of intentions: “The passing of every

comprehensive and more concrete than a journal; it is less fleeting than

old man or woman means the passing of some tradition, some knowledge

a blog post or an essay published on the web, but the stories and images

of sacred rites possessed by no other; consequently that information is to be

collected here do indeed take these forms elsewhere, and I view them as an

gathered, for the benefit of future generations, respecting the mode of life of

integral part of the circular processes of thinking, photographing, reflecting,

one of the great races of mankind . . .” , but it is difficult to gauge to what

rethinking and rephotographing. They are also an integral part of the process

extent these images served his express purpose of cultural perpetuation.

of engaging in dialogue with both the subjects of research30 and a wider

An opposite narrative is that of the warlike, “wily old savage”24, elusively

audience31.

portrayed in Captain James Peters’ battlefield photographs from the War

of 1812, in which distant mounted braves and foggy prisoners of war serve

finality, a sense of closure. I have spent the last five years working with(in)

to convey a sense of an intimidating and victorious colonial force. It has

Indigenous communities in Canada, and I imagine I will spend many more;

been argued that these enduring narratives serve no purpose other than the

therefore I tend to view the book as a capsule, a coalescence of ideas from a

bolstering of archives25 and the building of journalistic careers26. Similarly, I

particular moment in time. What I present here may, in all likelihood, seem

would argue that images of poverty and disparity, with no further attention

incomplete when considered amongst future bodies of work by myself and

to culture or context, can be considered as Sontag considers images of war:

others. If the project here is to describe emerging and enduring patterns of

“they reiterate, they simplify, they agitate27”–a false suggestion that all who

movement in Indigenous space, and to grasp at how we may use these to

view them share in the concern over how the realities they depict came to

understand the challenges facing many Indigenous communities, I see no

be. In my earnest attempt to break with these traditions, I present here not

end to it; Indigeneity is heterogeneous, as is the non-Indigeneity of those

a reiterative critique of Indigenous poverty but rather my interpretations

who visit or inhabit it as outsiders, and this heterogeneity lends itself to

of emerging and enduring patterns of movement in Indigenous space. It is

ever-emerging approaches to adversity.

23

my hope that these stories may be useful in reframing an understanding of 6

In the following pages I present three vignettes: three recountings of

The book format also lends itself to–rather, it implies–a certain

7

in-shuck-ch territory british columbia

I left Vancouver one morning in late February, the truck loaded with

with the province of British Columbia, and in many ways my trip in 2012

camping gear and a cooler complete with a week’s worth of food. The last

represented a continuation of that involvement. A year earlier, in 2011, the

time I visited Vern and Sylvia I arrived just before they left to spend time

power lines that ran the length of the Lillooet River Valley had finally been

with family in Mt. Currie–a demonstration of the malleability of time and

connected to the In-SHUCK-ch reserves, 50 years after being built by the

engagements I should have expected from my time spent on reserve. Had

provincial utility, BC Hydro (then BC Electric).

it not been for a cautious gas station stop in Pemberton I would have had

Despite this relatively recent electrification, traveling the logging

to have turned back, rattling two hours north to pick up supplies before

road south from Pemberton still felt like a descent into darkness. I stopped

turning around and doing it all again: as it was, I survived that handful of

on the edge of the precipice as I prepared for the descent, stepping outside to

days camping out in their backyard, sustaining myself on a poorly-planned

twist the knobs on my forward hub caps to lock the wheels into four-wheel

combination of onion bagels and peanut butter.

drive, cold air blowing off the Lillooet as I transformed my vehicle from ‘city

This time I was better prepared, however, and a good thing too: the

truck’ into ‘bush truck’3. As I transitioned from highway to asphalt to gravel

snow started falling heavily shortly after I left the city, and as I sat stopped

road and finally to dirt I was acutely aware of regressing down a hierarchy

behind a snowplow watching sedans spin their wheels into ditches I had

of accessibility4. My route, too, was laid out in descending fashion, and as I

plenty of time to consider the folly of my city-born belief in the inevitability

left the relatively straight Highway 99 the road began to swing, following the

of arrival. Once moving again, my unintentional traveling companions–

smooth yet decidedly unordered curves of the Lillooet River5. The road to

those not in the ditch–made an interesting migratory convey. We traveled

Sachteen takes an hour and a half to drive on a good day: the posted speed

at a speed dictated by the lowest common denominator of technology and

limit is 40km/h, but the speed of anyone who enters the territory with an

skill1, those unfamiliar with winter driving conditions plodding their two-

exit in mind is about 30km/h. The truck rattled incessantly, unnervingly,

wheel-drives ahead of an increasingly frustrated pack.

macro-level bumps and sways felt bodily while micro-level vibrations shook

The reserves of the In-SHUCK-ch Nation are scattered along both

coins in the cup-holder and jangled anything else not packed down tight,

sides of British Columbia’s Lillooet River in an expanse of traditional

and I imagined myself driving a wagon down the same route one hundred

territory stretching 100km north and south between the towns of Pemberton

years earlier and not feeling much different6. Cell phone service ended at

and Harrison Lake. Like many of Canada’s Indigenous communities, the

kilometre marker 13; the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation decided that

In-SHUCK-ch settlements exist in semi-isolation2: from Pemberton, 150km

kilometre 20 was far enough for it, but the Lillooet River followed along

north of Vancouver, you must travel 40km south by flood-prone logging

diligently, visible over my right shoulder for the duration of the trip.

road to reach the Sachteen reserve. In theory the southernmost community,

Tipella, can be accessed by heading north from the town of Harrison,

electricity and communication, specifically–were what drew me to the

but more often than not locals deem this road impassable due to snow or

In-SHUCK-ch communities in 2008. The community’s recent electrification

flooding. I first visited the communities in December of 2008 while working

offered an opportunity to revisit and learn how life had been altered with

with the In-SHUCK-ch provisional government to document changing on-

the advent of reliable power, but my drive into the territory suggested that

reserve conditions in support of the nation’s ongoing treaty negotiations

while life may be changing within the walls of In-SHUCK-ch homes, issues

9

These

forms

of

remove7–disconnects

from

highways,

of access and isolation were still very much present.

spaces: this is the new command post, and it allows Vern to host treaty

Life had indeed changed within the walls, and without. As I drove

meetings on the reserve rather than in the distant towns of Mission or

the long driveway to Vern and Sylvia’s home at kilometre 42 I did a double-

Pemberton, far outside the usual range of the territory’s Elders. The office

take: snow was falling up ahead, backlit by a street light. In the community

has a reliable internet connection, which brings the added security of Voice

of Skatin, a few kilometres down the road, there were a few scattered street

Over Internet Protocol calling in case of emergencies. “Now we can plan

lights before the hydro connection, but Sachteen, where my hosts lived in

for more activities for our people,” he says, “and we don’t have to go out

one of only three houses, had no central diesel generator to power them

there”–referring to the Lower Mainland. “Power will increase our standard

back then. Now the snow fell quietly up ahead in a new kind of illumination,

of living, but also our awareness of who we are as a people: people who have

lit without the low hum of the family’s small red Honda generator.

looked after this territory since time immemorial.” There’s a cultural revival

Vern and Sylvia are community workers with various involvements

happening, says Vern–one that is enabled and documented by technology,

within the In-SHUCK-ch traditional territory. Their home in Sachteen is

“and it’s high-speed. We’re still picking berries, we’re cutting fish, but at

built in thick-timbered chalet fashion, with tall windows and a sloping green

high-speed. It’s a global world, thanks to the internet. It’s just like electricity:

metal roof–a far cry from the pre-fabricated and run-down houses typical of

a positive power, constant, ever growing.”

communities further down the road. Inside the propane fire is lit, Vern keeping

it company in his housecoat while Sylvia works on needlepoint regalia for

won’t come down here,” he says, and that has influence on the communities’

one of the couple’s granddaughters. I marvel aloud at the streetlights outside,

remaining Elders. For those with deteriorating health, the road acts as a

and we quickly get to talking about what else electrification has brought.

conduit, pulling them preemptively towards urban centres where hospitals

“Certainty” is Vern’s first response; “Something we haven’t had for a long

are within easy reach. “Wally’s out there because he has diabetes and needs

time.” He points out that the houses in Sachteen used to run off a small

transfusions,” he says, referring to one Skatin Elder, “and the community

micro-hyrdo Pelton water wheel in the warmer months–a system that was

loses someone who contributes to religious, spiritual, cultural life... a person

prone to fluctuations in output, resulting in alternating surges and brown-

that speaks the language. Nobody fills that void.” For other members of the

outs for the community. “Those surges ruined TVs, fridges, toasters,” he says,

community, Health Canada flies a doctor into each of the communities via

and when the road to your nearest grocery store (two hours away) is prone

helicopter once a month for regular check-ups, but even that feels tenuous.

to closure, a fried refrigerator becomes a very serious problem. “We’ve eaten

“It’s a third world situation when you have to fly the doctor in,” says Vern, but

a lot of iffy food,” he says, chuckling. There have been no surges or outages

he acknowledges that with a population of 200 spread over 5 communities

since the electricity hook up, Sylvia tells me, “and since we’ve had power

and nearly 100 kilometres, there simply isn’t justification for a live-in doctor.

we’ve had a luxury we hadn’t had in five years... ice cream after dinner!”

Beyond its impact on basic appliances and frozen foods, Vern sees

the local school’s ability to retain teachers. Marie teaches Ucwalmícts, the

this new reliable electricity as a means of bridging the two-hour distance

language of the In-SHUCK-ch people, at the school, where there are 28

between his home and the outside world. A short trail leads from his house

students enrolled from kindergarten to grade 10. “When they head out for

to a construction-site-style portable, complete with boardroom and office

grade 11, they get put back 2 or 3 years,” she says. “It’s not a good education.

10

His optimism wanes when talk turns to the road. “Emergency vehicles

The next day Marie, a Skatin Elder, offers a similar assessment of

We need certified teachers. When they come for interviews, they drive our

“You didn’t need the radio–you went to someone’s house or you used a

road and they don’t like it.” Her son Mark, in his forties, is sitting across from

runner. People don’t go from door to door anymore. Electricity separates

me at the family’s kitchen table, his teenage son sitting on the couch in the

people.” The upside of electricity, he says: “The clock on the microwave is

nearby living room, lost in a book. “I drove him to school in Mount Currie

always right.”

for two years,” Mark tells me.

Charlie’s true Quixotic windmill, though, is the road, and he’s made

And it’s not just potential teachers who are put off by the road.

it his life’s work to maintain it, through his own physical labour, through

“The road is scary for people who don’t know how to drive it,” says Marie.

business partnerships, and through political pressure on the logging

“Tourists are scary: they drive fast, they hug the corners. In the winter we’re

companies whose interests are just enough to keep it open. “Even the loggers

pulling them out of the ditches and up the hills.” “And a lot of them come

complain about the road over the radio,” he tells me as he describes one

down here with no spare–they don’t know that they need to be prepared,”

particularly bad season. That year businesses in Pemberton raised $20,000

adds Mark. There are skills to driving the road, both for staying safe and for

to have the road graded (“After all, where do all of us spend our money?”

keeping your vehicle maintenance costs down: slow down, don’t ride your

Charlie points out). The grader made it part way down before the road froze

brakes, go easy on your shocks, and “use your radio,” says Mark, referring

and work had to stop: the money was returned, eventually to be replaced by

to the Citizens Band handsets used by households to communicate between

funds from the Department of Indian Affairs. Years before, he was tempted

communities and by drivers to announce their positions on the road. I have

to petition In-SHUCK-ch to close the road to the public after a particularly

one in my truck, lent to me by Vern for safety on this trip, and it has taken

nasty accident. It’s the public, he argues, that pose the biggest danger: “Local

me a while to get used to the medium’s open stream of consciousness: over

people know the road, know how to drive it. Most of the tourists have good

the radio, “47 kilometre, loaded (northbound)” could easily be followed by

shocks: they barely feel the bumps. But the potholes are there. You don’t feel

invitations for a neighbor to come over for tea or joyful calls of “Goodnight,

it, but your vehicle feels it.” 8

Skatin!”

The next morning the radio crackles with news of a Skatin member

to be my guide on a tour of some of the sites along the road, and he climbs in

stuck in the snow on the way back from Tipella. Sylvia and I are supposed to

next to me in his fluorescent yellow safety fleece. “Fuel gauge is broken?”, he

be driving south to attend a craft circle that day, but a few minutes outside

asks, nodding towards the dash. “Nope, but there’s a gas station just up the

of Skatin the road becomes impassable, blocked by snow and by Fidele

road, right?” I joke. “Yeah, it’s broken.” This is a bush truck, after all.

Henry’s fishtailed truck. Fidele’s legs stick out from the rear of the truck as

he struggles to put his chains on; behind him the parallel snakes of wild tire

progress9, and as we shake our bones towards kilometre 30 he relates pieces

tracks lead the treacherous way down the hill. We turn around, and after I

of community history as they correspond to points along our route. “I know

drop Sylvia off back at home I decide to head north to visit Charlie, an Elder

this road all the way up and down . . . I spent thirty years driving up and

in the community of Q’aLaTKú7eM, north of Sachteen and on the opposite

down it,” he tells me, pointing out the site of an old cemetery that was once

bank of the river. Charlie sees the radios as a small part of the larger problem

relocated ahead of an advancing flood. “Some of those graves are from the

that is electrification: “Before electricity, you talked to people,” he tells me.

late 1800s–half of them died from smallpox or chickenpox. When someone

11

The next day I pick up Mark from his house in Skatin. He has offered

It quickly becomes clear that, for Mark, the road is a story in

passed on we used to wrap them in deer skin and bury them in the fetal

little oxbow lake–a section of trail with a gentle curve and no beginning

position,” he explains to me. But Mark’s somber stories are punctuated with

or end. Looking to the road above us, I can image the dangers my hosts

contemporary appreciations with roots in past practices, and he also points

have described to me over the course of the last few days. Motorcyclists

out a trail to “an excellent fishing spot down here” or “one of the best places

have come over the edge and drowned, I’ve been told, and on a couple of

to fish for salmon”. I ask about bringing my fly rod with me on my next visit

occasions there have been abandoned vehicles found upside down on

and he agrees to show me how to tie bumblebees–a home-spun delicacy for

the river bank, left to be lapped seasonally by the rising and falling water.

Lillooet River fish.

Accidents such as these leave a trail of debris in their wake: “Oil, tires, car

Mark is a cook by training but has spent the majority of his time

parts . . . we catch them in our nets,” says Mark, as each year he and his

in the territory working odd jobs–part of the reality of his community’s

fishing friends perform an inadvertent purification along the line of the

isolation. “People find jobs wherever they can,” he says, “and having to leave

river. Running through Samahquam, between the river and the road, is the

home to work is annoying.” Until recently he worked for BC Hydro as a

old Lillooet Trail, established in the mid-1800s as a route from Port Douglas

bushwhacker, pushing back flora beneath the power poles along the roadside,

(now Douglas Indian Reserve No. 8) into the heart of the Fraser Canyon

but a chemical burn from a pesticide accident slowed his enthusiasm for

Gold Rush. This line, too, Mark plays a role in purifying, bringing youth

“vegetation management”. Years ago he worked as an assistant to Skatin’s

from Skatin, Douglas, Tipella and Q’aLaTKú7eM to Samahquam to beat

Elders, preparing meals, chopping firewood and doing laundry, but today

back unruly foliage. “When my mom was a kid she would ride horses along

there are only three Elders left to care for, so instead he facilitates traditional

this trail,” he tells me.

outdoors orientation programs for youth from the reserves and from the

On the way back to Skatin we pull over. Mark points along a faint

city.

goat trail winding almost invisibly upwards towards a rocky outcrop, and 30

We arrive at the trailhead for our short walk to the abandoned

metres up I find what he sent me searching for: mud-red berry-and-bear-

settlement of Samahquam, a half-dozen skeletal wood buildings down by

fat pictographs hidden between sharp sheets of stone. It is cultural artifacts

the river bank, left behind as industry in the territory declined in the 1960s.

such as these, along with his fishing holes and the arrowheads occasionally

Mark wants to show me a rock carving on the river bank, and we are lucky

found by tourists in improvised campsites, that Mark is most concerned

to find it where it sits well below the seasonal flood line: two figures in a

about protecting. As the road improves, he says, “People can come in and

canoe stamped into a boulder, a time- and tide-worn memorial to a young

find these things.” While a better road may encourage more youth to stay in

man’s father carved a half-century ago. A short distance along the river

community schools and allow the Elders he once cared for to live the end of

bank, walking back towards the old village, we come across a flattened and

their days at home, it seems that for every benefit there is a cost. For Mark,

timber-buttressed section of dirt, set back a dozen metres from the edge of

the cultural retention supported by improved access is countered in equal

the river. “The road used to be down here, until they built this one,” says

and opposite measure by extraction, be it by tourists or by loggers calling

Mark, motioning between the ground in front of us and the edge of the

“loaded” on their way out of the territory.

road we have just driven, high above our heads up the embankment. Years ago the road below flooded and was rebuilt higher up, leaving behind this

12

View from the river bank, Skookumchuck IR 4

Children playing, Skookumchuck IR 4

In-SHUCK-ch Forest Service Road, Sachteen IR 2A

Trucks, Skookumchuck IR 4

Lillooet River sand flats, Mount Currie

Satellite phone, Q’aLaTKú7eM (Baptiste Smith IR 1B)

Inside the Church of the Holy Cross, Skookumchuck IR 4

Front porch, Skookumchuck IR 4 21

Car doors, Samahquam IR 1

Mark & house frame, Samahquam IR 1

Cemetery, Samahquam IR 1 25

Tractor, Samahquam IR 1

Saw, Samahquam IR 1

Chaining up, Skookumchuck IR 4

Pictographs, Sachteen IR 2A

Abandoned car and belongings, Skookumchuck IR 4

Street lights, Sachteen IR 2A

35

the mackenzie river delta northwest territories

The Hawker-Siddeley 748 is far and away my new favorite airplane.

getting what I paid for: “What could possibly go wrong?”

Considering that I’ve never even liked an airplane, this is something of

And then, as if nothing happened, we are continuing through the

a transition for me. It’s a sublimation that, in terms of pre-flight nerves,

air in the general direction of up. The “stall”–and I shall cease to call it

works in my favour. Sitting on the runway at Whitehorse airport–a

that–lasted no more than a half-second, probably the commonplace drag

necessary stopover between Vancouver and Inuvik–peering out my

of retracting landing gear or the delayed inertial shifting of several tons of

unshuttered window from my unreclining seat to admire the riveting

dry goods, Arctic-bound under their drab drapings in the rear seats. The

on the sleek metal cigar that is the port Rolls Royce Dart engine, the

Hawker bounces playfully in Whitehorse’s southern wind and soon the

small turbo-prop puts me in mind of what it must have been like to fly

Yukon River is visible below, winding it’s way north of the small city to

Pan American during the Golden Age of Aviation. I feel like I’m going

where it is joined by the Takhini. The milk run circuit between Whitehorse

somewhere important, in comfort that is not excessive, and that no other

and Inuvik includes stops in Old Crow and Dawson City, and over the

craft could possibly get me there with such economy and efficiency. I am

course of the next week I become oddly proud of my ability to anticipate

sitting in the 1930s Volkswagen of 1950s-era airplanes, I conclude, and the

the Hawker’s characteristic take-off lurch1.

cabin’s interior completes this utilitarian-yet-pleasing image, save for the

rear 8 seats. These are occupied by freight, masked eerily, military-style,

its massive area visible through my limited porthole–is an expanse of

in grey-green canvas and tied down with webbed straps. “We take on as

white and grey. It’s a monochrome echo of a pattern I’ve seen before: the

much cargo as we can when there are empty seats,” the flight attendant

spatterings of bacon fat, water and soap left in a frying pan after breakfast,

explains. “Good,” I think–after all, it’s expensive to ship to the North–and

irregular bubbles of oil like dark polka dots in an orange sheen. In the

I’m still contemplating my new found affinity for this aircraft when we lift

summer I can imagine how the scene below me would be reversed, the

off, slow and smooth.

menisci of myriad islands pushing back the water of the Mackenzie, light

From the air the Mackenzie River Delta–at least, the extent of

land amid a dark silt stream, but today the scheme is much more subtle.

Today, in the middle of winter, stunted trees poke above the snow, the

And then there’s a pause.

halftone pattern created by their tops the only hint of land amongst a sea of ice and snow.

A stall.

Inuvik, it is explained to us upon arrival at the Aurora Research

My heart, expectedly, goes to my throat. Life, of course, flashes

Institute2, is in many ways a designer town. Built in the 1950s after

before my eyes. My eyes dart to my traveling companion, Phillip: the

extensive surveying by helicopter, it was essentially a sovereignty project

macchiato-loving, island-dwelling, geocaching professor who got me into

in the guise of a humanitarian mission: in Aklavik, the largely Indigenous

this mess. It was his idea to study the lives of Canadians living in isolated

hamlet on the opposite side of the delta, seasonal flooding was mistaken

and ice-locked locales, far from continental road systems and even further

for long-term sinking, and officials imagined relocating that population to

from runways of familiar suburban length. He probably never said it, but

the new town after they had been enlisted to build it. Inuvik was designed

I attribute the words to him now as I sit, motionless, upright, possibly

to grow, and a capacity for 10,000 residents was supported by a military-

37

length airstrip, a relatively deep shipping channel on the river, and a unique

for trapping fur-bearers and hunting caribou in the fall and a coastal cabin

‘Utilidor’ system that provided heating and sewage services to buildings

for whaling in the summer, and recently he’s been shuttling back and forth

via a network of elevated conduits. The population never reached 10,000,

to his trapline by snowmobile, a couple of hours away. “I stay out there

however: the end of the Cold War ushered out the need for an extensive

for as long as I can, about three weeks at a time,” he says, “and I just bring

military presence in the north, and the 1970s brought with it a climate of

groceries and enough ammo and gas.” And going out on the land isn’t just

environmental regulation, putting a hold on much of the region’s oil and

weekend recreation: trapping furs makes up a portion of his retirement

gas development. In addition, many in Aklavik opted not to leave their

income, and hunting caribou is a way of significantly offsetting the cost of

homes, knowing that flooding conditions were merely the result of natural

food in the isolated north. “For us it’s a way of subsidizing ourselves,” he

fluctuations in water level. The population of Inuvik–ironically, “the place

says. “We can hunt year-round, so it’s a huge benefit. And we share with

of man”–currently sits at around 3,500.

friends and family and people from down south.”

The expanse of delta on which Inuvik sits is what locals, Indigenous

People from “down south” are those, like Phillip and myself, from

and otherwise, refer to as “the land”. As an entity and a medium this land

anywhere below the Arctic circle, and even for us recent northern initiates

constitutes both destination and journey3, as the phrase “going out on the

it is easy see the importance of the self “subsidies” Hank is referring to. The

land” suggests. It’s an expression I first hear in conversation with Hank,

few old pumps at the town’s only gas station read $1.74/L; milk rings in at

an Inuvialuit Elder, one morning as he, Phillip and myself sit around the

$3.00/L, and these, Hank explains, are considered lows. Prices skyrocket

kitchen table in his home in Inuvik. It means “out on the delta,” Hank

in the shoulder seasons: those limbo periods in the spring and fall when

explains. “Here is up on the hillside (referring to the situation of his

the ice is in the process of either melting or freezing, not thick enough to

home), and back there (the land beyond the hillside) is the tundra.” Half

drive on with freight trucks, not thin enough to navigate a barge safely

the delta is crown land, he tells us; the rest is split between the settlement

through. For a few weeks near the equinoxes life gets more expensive in

regions of the Inuvialuit and the Gwich’in4–Canada’s westernmost Inuit

Inuvik–a fact that makes “freeze-up” and “break-up” occasions for seasonal

group and northernmost First Nation, respectively. The Inuvialuit use the

celebration as transport once again resumes along the ice road or the open

land today as they have for generations, for hunting, trapping, and fishing,

river.

and today there are roughly fifty cabins dotting the landscape, each with

its own hunting and trapping area. Made out of plywood and measuring

meltwater under overland snow can impede snowmobiles. In the summer

16’x30’ (“although some of the newer ones look more like luxury homes,”

Hank hunts muskrat in the coastal shallows, often able to bag 200 of

says Hank), most of these cabins and their accompanying jurisdictions

the rodents in a 10-hour day, but despite being able to hunt year-round,

have been handed down through families, and many still operate without

traveling on the land is easiest in the winter, and a world of possibilities

electricity, relying instead on gas lights and wood stoves. There are no

is opened up to residents of the delta when the Mackenzie freezes and

power lines extending into the delta, so those cabins that are wired for

turns the labyrinthine moat into an endlessly opportune web of trails5.

electricity must use portable generators that can take a couple of days to

Unlike in the summer months, in the winter it matters little whether what

warm to starting temperature in the winter. Hank has both an inland cabin

lies underfoot is snow or ice–what matters is the weather above, when the

38

These limbo periods are also difficult for hunters, explains Hank, as

wind blows and the snow drifts, “whiting out” the world all around and

white-out lifts and we are on the Beaufort Sea. The ice takes on a noticeably

making it very easy to get disoriented in the vast expanse of the delta6.

richer hue, a chunkier texture with larger and more frequent fissures, and

But even a white-out doesn’t always keep Hank at home, and he

soon the houses of the hamlet appear before us on a low berm. We find

tells the story of the time he proved the GPS wrong in the drifting snow,

Chuck outside his home on the outskirts of town where he is tending to

ending up back at fishing camp with a fire going, a cup of tea in hand long

trucks and snowmobiles; he opts to take the wheel in our rental (I don’t

before his traveling companion arrived. Hank won a $100 bet that day:

blame him, given the price of gas) and we begin our tour of Tuk.

“He didn’t trust my knowledge of the land,” he says of his friend. What

Minutes from Chuck’s cul-de-sac is Pingo National Monument,

might be construed as a boastful attitude, however, is tempered with a

home to the world’s second-highest pingo. The largest of the domelike

lifelong understanding of the seriousness of traveling exposed and alone

forms is fifty metres high and 1,000 years old, explains Chuck. The pingos,

in the north: “My father and grandfather taught me how to travel on the

he says, are created by the formation of permafrost and the associated

land. People ask, ‘How can you travel when it’s windy?’ I know the general

drying of nearby lake beds, the pressure of the building ice pushing up a

direction of the wind and the way the snow drifts: I have a pretty good feel

layer of topsoil to create a hill of snow with a skin of dirt; it’s estimated that

of the land so I’m pretty confident in what I’m doing when I’m out there.

Tuk’s pingos are growing at a rate of 2cm a year.

And if I don’t feel confident, I don’t go. It’s how I travel.”

But Pingo National Landmark might be the only thing growing in

It’s not long before Phillip and I get a first-hand experience of the

Tuk. On our tour of the hamlet we pass abandoned “camps”–barrack-style

near white-out conditions Hank described. We are driving to Tuktoyaktuk

former accommodations for the region’s oil and gas workers. “There’s not

(“Tuk” to locals), a small hamlet on the frozen shore of the Beaufort Sea,

too much for work here,” explains Chuck, “All these buildings are shut

150 km along the ice road from Inuvik, to meet with Chuck, a member

down, all these camps.” While oil and gas explorations are still underway

of the Inuvialuit community. The ice road, for all its smoothness, offers

in the Beaufort, Chuck’s assessment is that they are just that–exploration.

remarkable traction–“Take the corners slowly; don’t brake or turn too

“There’s lots of oil and gas here, but there are no production facilities, so

abruptly” were the instructions given to us by Jamie, a staff member at

they just cap the wells.” The delta has a long history of resource industry

our accommodations in Inuvik–but traction only goes so far when you

regulation–“Mackenzie Valley Pipeline? Maybe in my lifetime!” is a slogan

can’t see the road. Shortly after passing the turnoff for Aklavik, the road

we have heard, referring to the large-scale oil and gas project shut down by

socks in, and what was once a pale blue haze above us desaturates until

Justice Berger in the 1970s8–and Chuck is of the belief that such regulation

we can no longer differentiate the sky from the banked edges of our route.

is excessive: “Too many regulatory bodies scare industry away. Sure, it’s

Light wind blows lighter snow gently across our path until the tire tracks

OK to look after the wellbeing of the environment, of the land, but on the

ahead are barely visible7, and it is all we can do to keep our wheels in their

other hand you have to look after the wellbeing of your people. You need

faint grooves, the added heaviness of our nervous, nose-to-windshield

to create work for them. The majority of people here rely on government

breathing creating its own adverse weather patterns inside the truck.

assistance, and a community without work is not a happy community.”9

We drive like this for thirty minutes, eerily aware of the absence of

other travelers on the road, and then, like rapidly clearing turbulence, the

teaching, policing and administration positions; for those without, illegal

39

For those with an education there are a few jobs available in

bootlegging is a lucrative option in a liquor-restricted community. For

others like Chuck, guiding commercial hunting charters was a reliable

Ontario transplant with a knack for breaking trails. Our route takes us

source of income and, echoing Hank, a way to offset the high cost of

along the banks of the Mackenzie River before cutting sharply into the

living. “Was”, until government regulation undercut the caribou hunt

trees, zigzagging between runt pine until we burst forth onto Airport Lake.

as well. “Prior to 2006 you could hunt caribou anywhere you wanted to.

It is completely foreign to me, an urban southerner, this feeling of being

Caribou is like beef here: you can make anything you want with it. Then

able to travel in nearly any desired direction, over land or water, given the

the researchers started saying that the caribou are declining. How can they

proper affordances11. “It’s a free country,” Hank had said. “You can travel

make calls like that when they only come up here for a month at the most?

wherever you want. You just have to respect it.” It’s a free country, and one

The Inuvialuit have lived here all our lives; we’re out on the land six months

that punishes rigidity, I decide as my vehicle’s right ski breaks from the

of the year and we know what’s going on.” Chuck’s 93-year-old mother, he

steering mechanism after a particularly hard bump. It’s also a place that

says, “has seen the caribou come and go three times in her lifetime. The

defies prescription. Just as shifting pilings and collapsed buildings are the

caribou don’t use the same migration trails each year–they would have

physical repercussions of any attempt to enforce stiff permanence on the

nothing left to eat if they did. They would all starve. The people know the

delta, broken skis and fissures along the ice road are reminders that we

caribou are there.”10

must attend to every moment of our transition along its dynamic surface12.

Part of the problem in underestimating the caribou population

To belong to the north, I conclude, is to accept these irregularities–be they

seems to lie in the rigid patterns flown by research helicopters when

in shipping schedules, weather patterns, or caribou migrations–to respect

assessing the location and size of herds. “They fly in 10-mile grids,” says

them, and to be prepared for them.

Chuck, “How are you going to see a herd of caribou when you’re 500 feet up in the air?” The caribou know nothing of grids, traveling instead like an undulating coastline beneath an irrelevant overlay of latitude and longitude.

A snowmobile appears on the frozen bay, winding its way between the humps of buried boats dotting a similarly undulating coastline, and again I am amazed by the seasonal transformations of the Arctic landscape.

It’s Chuck’s son, Logan, twenty years old and dressed like a character from a Cold War video game, goggles covering his face and a rifle slung over his shoulders. He’s been out shooting foxes, and as he pulls up to the truck I see two animals draped over his knees. “You haven’t shown me how to skin them yet,” he accuses his father jokingly, and that evening before heading back to Inuvik we experience two Arctic privileges: a plate of caribou burgers followed by a crash-course in fox-skinning.

40

The next evening we are taken snowmobiling by Jamie, the friendly

Houses overlooking the bay, Tuktoyaktuk

Cabin, Tuktoyaktuk

Permafrost, Tuktoyaktuk

Underground cold food storage, Tuktoyaktuk

Hawker-Siddeley over the Mackenzie River Delta

City planning office, Inuvik

Permafrost-shifted house, Aklavik

Social housing, Aklavik

Logan with foxes, Tuktoyaktuk

Skinned fox, Tuktoyaktuk 53

Husky, Inuvik 55

Ice road, Inuvik 57

Driving on the Beaufort Sea, Tuktoyaktuk

Snowmobiling on the Mackenzie River, Inuvik

Snowmobile party on Airport Lake, Inuvik

Snowmobiling at night, Inuvik

Caribou hide & dogs, Tuktoyaktuk

Racing dogs, Inuvik

Northern lights over Inuvik

Hank, Inuvik

69

haida gwaii british columbia

In the town of Queen Charlotte–“Charlotte” to its residents–there is

next hour taking turns, rotating slowly as we carve wide arcs out across the

a tangible sense of agitation. “Haida Gwaii united against Enbridge” reads

sand and seaweed. Hanging perilously upside down, the clouds and the

a sign along the main road, and in child’s writing, “Don’t let the oil spill!”

water exchange places–an appropriately inverted introduction to a world

The signs along the historic waterfront are in response to the proposed

that is governed by the sea.

Northern Gateway project, a 731-mile pipeline that would connect

facilities in Alberta’s oil sands with west coast ports, allowing the shipment

longhouse on the town’s waterfront, sitting on the bank above the beach,

of 525,000 barrels of crude oil per day to markets in California and Asia

its glass front facing the sea. Inside, folding tables are arranged in an

through Hecate Strait–the storm-churned waters separating Haida Gwaii

oblong ring in front of a large blackboard, their faux-wood tops covered in

and mainland Canada1. The 1989 Exxon Valdez disaster spilled over half a

microphones and notebooks beneath the massive timbers that support the

million barrels of oil into Prince William Sound, Alaska, with devastating

roof. Sunlight pours in from the skylights overhead, more than making up

effect on local ecosystems, and the concerned consensus on the islands of

for the oceanfront windows papered with posters and phrases. Wall space

Haida Gwaii is that a similar disaster is inevitable should the Northern

is at a premium, and all the vertical surfaces are similarly covered with

Gateway get the go-ahead. I’m on the islands of Haida Gwaii, 80km off

maps and photographs of fluent Haida speakers who have passed away

the coast of British Columbia, with my partner Meriko, and it’s clear from

since the program’s founding in 1998. The tables might be portable, but the

our first day here that the looming pipeline is going to be a topic of much

space has a feel of permanence, like a very large and very important field

discussion.

camp. SHIP, as it is known, is ground zero for Haida language preservation

On our first evening on the islands Cait, a student in the local

efforts, and it is here that Skidegate Elders spend their free time working to

environmental resource management program run by the Haida Higher

pull language from the air to put on paper2.

Education Society, takes us to a beach on the far side of town, a popular

spot for high school students to hang out on the weekends. It’s a popular

teacher presiding over SHIP’s efforts. Funding is an ongoing issue: Kevin,

spot for their teachers to hang out as well, in a place where urban notions

on contract with both the Skidegate band council and the local school

of nightlife remain blissfully unfulfilled, but the slightly older revelers, we

board for language curriculum development, has been taking salary cuts

are told, almost always defer to the younger when it comes to issues of

for three years. SHIP’s operational costs are scrounged from the Aboriginal

bonfire territory. A muddy trail opens onto the sand and from there the

Affairs and Northern Development Canada heritage programs, because,

beach winds away to the right, past decrepit, land-locked fishing craft and

as Kevin says, “the federal government won’t fund aboriginal languages

rotting barges towards a small cluster of homes on the opposite bank. To

in schools because education is a provincial jurisdiction.” Compounding

the left is a small headland, and from this headland protrudes a massive

these financial challenges is the fact that Skidegate’s Elders are aging:

tree, standing proud from the visible shoreline erosion a dozen or so

there are only 12 remaining speakers of the Skidegate dialect (the two

storm-swept metres from the high-tide line. A single well-worn line and

other major Haida settlements, the northern Haida Gwaii town of Old

plank are wound around its trunk, stopping just above a tangled platform

Massett and the Alaskan town of Hydaburg, each have their own dialects),

of roots. Responding to the visceral call of rope and swing, we spend the

and the youngest fluent speaker is 63 years old. “The program is barely

71

The Skidegate Haida Immersion Program operates from inside a

That orthographic process has been tough, says Kevin, the school

surviving, but our Elders are troopers,” Kevin says, “and they keep coming.

realized she had lost track of where she was: with the tide out and darkness

We’ve even had a couple of new silent speakers join us recently–they can

upon her she had no sense of the direction of the water or of which way she

understand the language but they won’t speak it freely”. Not surprisingly,

had turned. “I’ve been a little afraid of going down to the beach at night

Kevin attributes the dearth of Haida speakers to residential schooling

since then,” she admits.5

on the islands, adding that a new form of linguistic colonialism is still in

operation: “There should be as much Haida in the school system as there

regaled with mouth-watering stories of clam fritters and plied with salty,

is English and French, and there isn’t. That doesn’t seem right on the lands

crunchy, popcorn-sized bites of dried seaweed. There is also k’aww6–

where the official language is Haida.” But tenuous as it may be, and against

herring roe that has adhered to thick blades of kelp during the spawning

all odds, SHIP’s survival is in evidence all around the longhouse, visible in

process. I am told that this is a seasonal delicacy, and, concerned that my

the stacks of self-published Haida children’s books (21 in all) and in the

munchings might deplete the large bucket in the kitchen, I decide to leave

wall map of Moresby Island, the archipelago’s large southern landmass,

the rest of the k’aww to the Elders after a small taste. There is also the

complete with its 2,500 place names and translations3.

mysterious guuding.ngaay7, or sea urchin, not present at our table but the

My conversation with Kevin has been taking place during the

mere mention of which is enough to make Mary’s eyes turn skyward. “Oh,

Elders’ lunch break (“they may show up late,” Cait had told us, “but they

I wish I had some guuding.ngaay,” she says dreamily, half hinting.

take their breaks on a tight schedule”), and as we wrap up the Elders start

to return, taking their seats in the swivel-backed office chairs around the

kind manipulation that draws partly on fear of disapproval but mostly on

tables. One of the women stops to chat about Meriko’s knitting: “I can

the unwavering admiration and respect they command in the community8.

show you how to turn the heel of that sock,” she offers. We’d been warned

As a case in point, the next day Meriko and I are invited to accompany

that today is a day for cleaning clams in preparation for Friday’s banquet,

Alan, a youth worker with the Council of the Haida Nation, on a

and I’m looking forward to rolling up my sleeves and chipping in, not as

guuding.ngaay-gathering canoe trek to Juskatla Narrows in Masset9 Inlet.

a way of ingratiating myself with the Elders but as a means of absorbing

The put-in lies at the end of a narrow and overgrown logging road just

as much as I can about eating from the intertidal zone4. A table is cleared

west of Port Clements, where we are staying for a few nights in a makeshift

near the back of the room and three large buckets of de-shelled razor clams

hostel above the town’s only grocery store, but we never find it. We visit the

are brought out, along with an array of cutting boards and paring knives.

site of an abandoned canoe-in-progress, a massive felled cedar overgrown

I set myself up next to Mary as we turned our quiet attention to the task at

with moss accessed along a hidden trail, left behind in advance of the wave

hand, occasionally leaning in to see exactly which bits she was discarding

of smallpox that gutted the islands in the late 1800s. Here Alan points

and how it was that she was making her cuts so efficiently. Mary, in turn,

out another tree nearby, perhaps the carvers’ first choice, marked with the

checks in with me every so often, nodding approvingly at my clumsy knife

deep ‘V‘ of an early iron tool cut: “They must have found a weakness inside

strokes. Later, in the kitchen as I help with the dishes, she shares with me a

that they didn’t like,” he surmises; “you can tell the age of the cut by the

story about traveling the shoreline one evening, head down, intent on the

exposed tree rings.” We leave to spend another hour crashing through the

progress of her clam-digging. When the sun went down she looked up and

brush in Alan’s truck, convinced that the trail markings will appear just

72

I learn a lot about the fruits of the intertidal zone that afternoon,

The Elders, I learn, have a sneaky way of getting what they want–a

around the next bend, but they don’t. Launching the canoe from the put-in

of a comfortable home, and suddenly we are canoeing in calm waters and

would have enabled us to bypass the strongest section of the narrows, but

warming sunshine. We beach the boat; Alan ducks into the woods to put

being conscious of the tides and of remaining hours of daylight, we opt to

on his wetsuit, and together we scout urchins in the waist-high waters off

launch from the log sort a short distance from town. We park just beyond

the point of a small island.

the gates to the sort, past a handful of gruff men in orange coveralls. “Park

wherever you want,” they tell us. “If the log boss doesn’t like it, he’ll find

have come in search of, but rather styuu k’amdala11–small green urchins

you.”

that are only slightly less delicious. They are also slightly less dangerous,

Alan can be forgiven for not finding the trailhead in the maze of

as, unlike the red urchins, their spines are less liable to inflict chronic pain

mainlines that criss-cross the centre of the island. He had been out driving

upon punctured fingers and feet. We head to the beach once Alan has filled

the logging roads days earlier with his father, Dale, and had insisted on

his small mesh bags, and, crouching between boulders marked with rings

taking the wheel in an effort to better internalize the turns and landmarks10,

left by changing tides, he offers us a taste of urchin fresher than the highest

but it’s a steep learning curve. His father’s company built the roads years

grade sashimi. His knife point reaches past the stippled outer sphere of the

ago, and if Dale has yet to fully impart his knowledge of their routes, he

spines’ reach, prying open the shell to reveal the tender orange flesh at the

has succeeded in raising his son with a living knowledge of the land and

centre, and as I eat I think back to Dale’s words from the day before. “This

the bounty it has to offer. “I used to take the boys camping,” Dale told me

is one of few places left where you can still live completely off the land,” he

the day before. “You’ve heard of the 100-mile diet? We’d do the 100-metre

had said. “You might struggle to pay your bills sometimes, but you’ll never

diet. I’d tell them, ‘We can camp wherever you like, but anything you eat

go hungry. You’d have to be an idiot or an asshole to starve here. Actually”,

has to come from within 100m of the fire.’ It didn’t take long before they

he added, “if you were an idiot, your neighbor would feed you. If you were

learned that first you pick your protein, then you place your fire. No matter

an asshole, well . . .”

where you are, you can find vegetation to eat.”

We make slow progress out to Juskatla: the tide is gently against

the Kaay Llnagaay Haida Heritage Centre near, sitting in the sunshine on a

us and grows to a steady stream as we approach the narrows. With Alan’s

picnic table facing the sea. Ravens landed on the wings of their likenesses

guidance we choose the eastern of the two routes around Fraser Island,

on the totem poles nearby, their throaty wood-block calls interrupting us

where the water is known to be calmer, and looking across a low sandbank

at regular intervals. Captain–a common given name in post-contact Haida

I can see standing waves to the west. We hug the shoreline where back-

culture, I’m told–was telling me about the large fleet of fishing vessels that

eddies make for slightly less resistance, but there are times when it feels

once sailed from Skidegate in the days before the financial regulations

that we are running to stand still in the current. It’s all we can do to avoid

that now make it difficult for First Nations to fish commercially. Captain

being spun around in our last open-water crossing: strong whirlpools

worked on his father’s boats beginning at the age of eight, at a time when

spin from my paddle blade as I struggle against the rushing water, and

“there used to be boats all along the bay, floating off the beach” in Skidegate.

against Alan’s questionable J-stroke, but eventually we make it past the

It’s a month before salmon season, and today a single boat is riding the

narrows. It’s as if we had stepped out of a wind storm and into the foyer

ring of horizon before us. “I know that boat,” says Captain. “I used to be

73

It turns out that these are not the guuding.ngaay, or red urchins, we

I spoke with Captain Gold, a Skidegate Elder, one afternoon outside

able to recognize all the boats on the horizon.” This statement reminds

different ways and so when we serve these foods, we know exactly how

him of another story, and he goes on to tell me about the ancient Haida

they were handled from the time that they were taken from the earth …

war canoes, and how raiding parties would return home. “In those days

Our culture is about how close we can be to the earth. For thousands

everybody had a specific seat in the canoe,” he says. “If a warrior was killed

of years our people lived here basically surviving from all that this land

in battle, they would put his paddle upright in his seat. That way when they

provided … this was the highest density of hunter gatherers anywhere in

came home the villagers could see who had been lost by the position of the

the world, which says something of the wealth of this land and what this

paddles. They could prepare.”

land has provided for us.”13

There’s a map of Haida Gwaii on Cait’s wall. On it, the islands rise

“I’d rather die fighting against oil than die by oil,” were the words

from the sea in lightening shades of green, the blue surrounding them

of Nika, a cultural curator at Skidegate’s Kaay Centre. The conflict has

darkening in stages as it stretches away from the land, shadows filling

progressed to brink of militancy, and the Haida are not alone: as one non-

the troughs left by glaciers millennia ago. I saw carvers in Old Massett

Haida community member told me in Port Clements, “I’ve never seen the

performing a similar act of glaciation, pulling cedar forms from a sea of

island so united. If they want to push this thing through, they are actually

shavings as they pushed the wood back with their tools12, leaving similar

going to have to shoot people.” The banners of protest in Charlotte, in

contours in their wake. From this elevated perspective it seems clear to

Skidegate and Old Massett are indicators of the premonitions Captain

me that here food is gathered in concentric circles around the islands.

Gold hinted at: they are the upturned paddles on the horizon, a sign that

Like the boulders on the beach in the narrows, rising and falling tides

the Haida will be ready when those behind the pipeline realize they’ve

delineate rings that radiate out from all the beaches of Haida Gwaii: along

been gathering clams with their heads down for too long, intent on their

the first line, seaweed is gathered; along another, clams are dug. Beyond

progress with only a twilit understanding of the environment in which

the shoreline is the ring of urchins, followed by the ring of kelp on which

they dig.

the herring deposit their eggs. Further still are Captain Gold’s sites for fishing for halibut and salmon, and at the centre of these concentricities are cultural hubs like SHIP and the Kaay Centre. The importance of these sources, and of the threat facing them, cannot be understated, and at a recent Joint Review Panel hearing in Old Massett–one of several that, in theory, will contribute to determining the future of the Northern Gateway Pipeline–Hereditary Chief Guujaaw gave testimony to the significance of food gathering: “I usually get enough halibut and other things that I need throughout the months and when they’re accessible,” he had said, “and so through the year, I’m able to feed my family. Probably five times out of the week I feed them from things that we had gathered, seaweeds and clams and the fish that we had put away in various ways. We prepared them in

74

Swing beach, Queen Charlotte

Alan, Port Clements

Car parts, Port Clements

General store, Queen Charlotte

Protest sign, Queen Charlotte

Protest signs, Old Massett

Carvers, Old Massett

Gull wings, Queen Charlotte

Shuttle, Skidegate

Cait & Meriko gathering seaweed, Queen Charlotte

Mary cleaning clams at SHIP, Skidegate

Bulletin board, Queen Charlotte

Family resource centre, Old Massett

Soccer game, Port Clements

Alan gathering urchins, Juskatla Narrows 91

Tree rings, Skidegate

Tide rings, Juskatla Narrows

Ravens, Old Massett

97

conclusions conduits, meshwork, concentricities

The vignettes presented here–capsules of visual and textual

is their political distance that seems to have the most profound impact

experience collected over the course of several months of fieldwork–offer

on lives and livelihoods. While physical insulation may lead to stronger

three interpretations of emerging and enduring movement in Indigenous

community ties, political isolation is manifest in regulatory policy that

space, felt amid an ever-changing array of social, political and economic

simply doesn’t fit the landscape, environmental or cultural. The physical

circumstance. In the communities of the In-SHUCK-ch Nation the

infrastructures of remove are relatively easy to adapt to, as Phillip and I

introduction of reliable electrification has gone a long way in improving

learned first-hand as we chose our dinners from the frozen food section

feelings of connectedness for citizens like Vern. While few would argue

of a small grocery or watched our rental truck being towed skillfully out

that this electrification, and the “certainty” associated with it, represents a

of a snow bank, and these adaptations impart a decidedly unhurried,

large step towards extending the benefits of citizenship to all Canadians,

un-urban atmosphere to a place. Fittingly, movement through the Inuvialuit

it is not without its attendant dangers and contradictions. Historically,

landscape is done in very conscious consideration of, and engagement

non-Indigenous Canada has been very good at subsuming those lands that

with, its affordances6 as governed dynamically by the seasons: a system of

are convenient–lands rich with timber, water, minerals, game and fish,

irregular prescription that influences the patterns of people and animals

and ripe for access to desirable waterways and overland routes1–when it

alike.

has been convenient to do so. It speaks to observations that culture is not

Making a living under a similarly-governed economic landscape

static2 that members of the In-SHUCK-ch Nation, like Mark, have taken

is equally opportunistic and responsive, as Chuck and Hank demonstrate

up the cause of preserving historic wagon trails through their territory.

through the hunting and trapping that supplement their incomes. In this

This adoption, or co-option, is recognition of these routes’ formative place

sense the North could be interpreted as highly independent, supported

in In-SHUCK-ch history: clearly there is no claim to any form of pure3,

economically by a practice that serves added function as a cultural

pre-contact culture here. Unfortunately, however, as roads and resource

touchstone. It is when these practices are interrupted by regulation

exploration, both historic and contemporary, have pushed any hopes for

which–while no doubt grounded in the best available science–fails to

traditional forms of self-sufficiency further from reality, routes through

take into account local knowledge of the fluid dynamics of a herd that

the territory have not taken up the slack. The game trails that became

this independence is compromised, placing increased pressure on scarce

wagon trails that became logging roads (a loose progression) also became

alternative industry. Ironically, and with precedent-setting recognition of

unequal conduits4 that served, and still serve, to drain the territory. These

Aboriginal traditional knowledge, the Mackenzie Valley Pipeline Inquiry

conduits replenish, too, to a certain extent, but their contributions are

of the 1970s ultimately rejected the pipeline proposal based in part on

vastly disproportionate to their withdrawals, and as economic centres

its potential detrimental impact on traditional hunting and trapping

continue to develop at the opposite ends of these metaphoric pipelines, the

economies7. By many accounts the pipeline would have provided relief

communities of the In-SHUCK-ch Nation grow increasingly removed5.

from dependence on these practices of subsistence, illustrating the

Removed, too, are the Inuvialuit communities of Aklavik,

conundrum presented by dissociated governance that argues alternately

Tuktoyaktuk, and Inuvik, and although their physical distance from

for the protection of traditional livelihoods and the herds on which they

what Hank would call “southern” Canada is decidedly more dramatic, it

are based. The dissociation needed, many in the North would argue, is

99

one that frees the North from the centralized policies of the Canadian

Struggling to find their place within a similar system, the In-

South, allowing for ways of life and livelihood that follow the bricolage

SHUCK-ch Nation is not fighting for a road, but for what the road

of the tundra. In the resource-sparse North, lines of meshwork pattern

represents: the extension and recognition of citizenship, a conduit that will

an irregular patchwork on the landscape–a pattern that incorporates

transport them to a place of active participation in Canadian society and

the affordances not just of snow, silt and soil but also those of caribou

economy9. In the North, the Inuvialuit are working against the imposition

herds, whale pods, and, when necessary, the pantries of neighbors.

of a centre based on foreign values–one that fails to recognize that, amid

Effective Northern policy might then, I argue, embolden these patterns

the fluctuations of the Arctic, the strongest centre is in fact none at all–

of decentralization, drawing on traditional ways of life and local resource

while on the British Columbia coast the Haida are preparing to go to war

opportunities in equal measure.

for a centre that has for centuries sustained itself through the respectful

recognition of its periphery. Collectively these struggles are for alternative

Interestingly, such decentralization can be seen to feed remarkable

localism, witnessed as the communities of Haida Gwaii respond to the

ways of connecting, both to Canada and to each other.

threat of the proposed Northern Gateway Pipeline. It’s a response in

part to a mistaken concentration of values–the idea that the western

unique to the Indigenous actors operating within the spaces described,

lobe of the country is united in support of risky resource extraction and

and it is my hope that these nuanced lenses of understanding may have

transportation–and the federal misdirection that all Canadians will benefit

application in the search for innovative solutions to the challenges inherent

from the risky transportation of crude oil8. Haida Gwaii’s relative isolation

in the conception and development of rural infrastructure and economy,

has largely freed the islands from the urban encroachment experienced in

Indigenous and otherwise. I also hope to offer a compelling, localized

the territories of the In-SHUCK-ch Nation; as a result, it is still possible to

argument against an undemocratic and overly-centralized approach

live off the land, arguably to greater extent than is possible in the Arctic.

to resource development, and in doing so I have aimed to describe an

Just as the North has been hamstrung by remote regulation, so too will

alternative researcher–subject relationship: one that places the concerns of

Haida Gwaii be impacted by the remote liberalization that may eventually

the researched at the centre of inquiry and involves the researcher, deeply,

allow the pipeline to proceed: in the event of an ecosystem-crippling oil

bodily and emotionally10.

These forms of movement and the values they betray are not

spill, reliance will be similarly shifted to local industry, the stagnation of which has already shifted dependence heavily towards local food. Like the Ts’ii t’a jan gan.

caribou to the Inuvialuit, these sources of food, as well as the practices of gathering, are the cultural touchstones of the islands. Dale’s 100-metre diet

(to continue)

tells the greater story of the Haida: first you pick your protein–in this case, the concentric rings of sea flora and fauna that lap the islands–and then you place your fire. The Haida placed their fire at the centre of these rings, and as a result their fires still burn bright in vibrant communities at the heart of a self-sustaining system.

100

101

notes

introduction

and fishing (p. 270). Harris makes reference to the work of Michel Foucault, who’s further characterization of the prison system bears

1. These disparities are not limited to Indigenous peoples and communities

eerie similarity to the choices offered by both reserves and residential

in Canada, and similarities may be found in Wilson’s (2008) observation

schools: “In short, penal imprisonment, from the beginning of the

that, in Australia, “While recognizing that services are not provided

nineteenth century, covered both the deprivation of liberty and the

on an equal basis to indigenous people, the government nevertheless

technical transforming of individuals.” (1977, p. 216).

expects viability and imposes dominant societal standards for (Indigenous) programs.” (p. 20).

10. Heidegger hints at the linguistic roots of the prejudice that held Indigenous peoples as non-citizens–and in fact as non-people–in

2. La Praire (2002).

Building Dwelling Thinking: “Bauen originally means to dwell . . .

3. Monture (2010); MacDonald( 2009).

bauen, buan, bhu, beo are our word bin in the versions: ich bin, I am, du bist, you are . . . The way in which you are and I am, the manner

4. Anderson (1992).

in which we humans are on the earth, is buan, dwelling . . . this word

5. Farley, M., Lynne, J., & Cotton, A. J. (2005).

bauen, however, also means . . . to till the soil, to cultivate the vine” (1971, p. 147, original emphasis). This agriculturalist perspective

6. “Indian” is an ingroup expression of identity that I can lay no claim

implies, by extension, that if one does not till the soil, as hunting and

to. More often than not its use by outgroup members is pejorative,

gathering societies did not, then one is not.

however it remains in use in official policies of the Government of Canada. I use it only when referring to these documents and policies,

11. There is some reassurance to be found in the definition of social justice

preferring the general term “Indigenous” as the fieldwork outlined

as offered by Chilisa (2012): “social justice in research is achieved

here was conducted with both First Nations and Inuit communities.

when research gives voice to the researched and moves from a deficit-

Whenever possible I use more specific and positive expressions of

based orientation, where research was based in perceived deficits in

identity: Haida, In-SHUCK-ch, and Inuvialuit.

the researched, to reinforcing practices that have sustained the lives of the researched” (p. 17-18).

7. Harris (2002). Also, a contemporary assessment of the reserve system as different from an urban existence can be found in Whittles and

12. Wilson (2008) asserts that “One consequence of such studies, even

Patterson (2009).

though their intentions may be good, is the proliferation of negative stereotypes about Indigenous communities.” (p. 17).

8. Harris (2002); Brownlie (2009); MacDonald (2009).

13. “Discontinuous as it was, the line separating the Indian reserves from

9. On this freedom, or lack thereof, Harris (2002) highlights the role

the rest became, in a sense, the primal line on the land of British

of “Indian agents”–government officials who were the all-seeing, all-

Columbia, the one that facilitated the boundary between the desert and

hearing administrators in and around reservations, and who played

the sown, though in this case the extent of the desert (the land largely

a large role in the restriction of traditional activities such as hunting

103

beyond reach and use) was a vastly one-sided colonial construction.”

fieldwork.

(Harris, 2002, p. xviii).

18. Taggart (2009).

14. Perhaps I can be forgiven, as, according to Ingold, “this setting

19. MacDonald (2011).

out, however, is also marked by a switch of perspective, from the encompassing view of the umbrella plan to the narrow focus on the

20. In approaching work in Indigenous spaces I follow a blended Indigenous

initial point of contact between tool and material” (2011, p. 54). I

methodology as outlined by Chilisa (2012), Kovach (2009), and Wilson

might consider myself and my camera the “tools”, and broadly-defined

(2008), the characteristics and considerations of which are identified

Indigenous space as the “material”.

in the following footnotes. Regarding giving back to communities,

Kovach (2009) asserts that researchers can do this “by sharing our

15. Throughout this book I make loose reference to constellations of

work so that it may assist others.” (p. 11). Regarding my involvement

mobility as described by Cresswell (2010)–characteristics of rhythm,

with the In-SHUCK-ch Nation, images I produced were given to the

route, feel, speed, motivation, and friction–as they relate to experiences

band to support their arguments for self-government. Historic and

of movement in Indigenous space. Additionally, these experiences are

contemporary challenges to self-government are outlined in Murphy

undoubtedly impacted by a further constellation as added by Vannini

(2009).

(2011): that of remove, or isolation, with its attendant implications of insulation and isolation.

21. Importantly, “for story to surface, there must be trust,” (Kovach, 2009, p. 98).

16. This idea of “dwelling” (Ingold, 2000; Seamon, 1979; Vannini & Taggart, 2012) falls under the umbrella of Non-representational

22. Peers & Brown (2009). In their outline of a photographic repatriation

Theory. Importantly, Vannini and Taggart propose that an island’s

project in southern Alberta, they note that “over the years, many

sense of place, “or islandness, is an outcome of what islanders do, and

Aboriginal people have talked to us about the legacy of mistrust of

in particular of how islanders move,” (p. 4) and my argument here is

museums and anthropologists that exists in their communities…

similar: Indigenous spaces, while defined on maps by reserve lines,

We have also been told about misinterpretations and errors within

are better defined by the movement that occurs within, around and

ethnographic texts and archival sources that are still drawn upon by

through them. Additionally, and particularly in my exploration of

researchers, Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal” (p. 124).

Haida Gwaii, I propose that eligible movement for such consideration

23. Graybill & Boesen (1976, p.1).

is not limited solely to that of Indigenous actors.

24. Barnholden (2009, p. 61).

17. Crang & Cook (2007) assert that “to be a ‘participant’ in a culture implies an immersion of the researcher’s self into the everyday

25. Peers & Brown (2009).

rhythms and routines of the community” (p. 37). I have drawn heavily

26. As “witnessing requires the creation of star witnesses, renowned

on participant and non-participant observation in conducting this

for their bravery and zeal in procuring important, disturbing 104

photographs” Sontag (2003, p. 33).

5. For an interpretation of the relationship between straightness and notions of civility see Ingold (2007): “In modern societies, it seems,

27. Sontag (2003, p. 6).

straightness has come to epitomize not only rational thought but also

28. Following the example of Kovach (2009), in preparing these vignettes

the values of civility and moral rectitude.” (p. 4).

I have employed a writing style that “has three braids, comprising

6. Cresswell (2010), “Rhythm, then, is part of any social order or historical

three writing styles: expository, analytical, and narrative.” (p. 21)

period. Senses of movement include these historical senses of rhythm

29. I am referring here to a year’s worth of fieldwork with Dr. Phillip

within them.” (p. 24).

Vannini, spent studying the practices and motivations of Canadians

7. Vannini (2011) has added “remove”–the concept of relative distance–

living “off-grid”–those at a distance from systems of transportation,

to Cresswell’s (2010) six existing constellations of mobility.

communication and electrification. Phillip and I have noted that,

8. Ingold: “ In between sites he barely skims the surface of the world, if

while off-griders often do without television, very seldom do they

not skipping it entirely, leaving no trace of having passed by or even

relinquish their connection to the World Wide Web.

any recollection of the journey. Indeed the tourist may be advised

30. Chilisa (2012).

to expunge from memory the experience of getting there, however arduous or eventful it may have been . . . “ (2007, p. 79).

9. Ingold: “Thus the act of remembering was itself conceived as

in-shuck-ch territory

performance: the text is remembered by reading, the story by telling it,

1. Following Ingold, this skill being seen as the “synergy of practitioner,

the journey by making it. Every text, story or trip, in short, is a journey

tool, and material”–in this case driver, vehicle, and road– executed

made rather than an object found.” (2007, p. 16).

along a slippery highway through “the coupling of perception and action.” (2011, p. 53).

the mackenzie river delta

2. A version of this description, as well as early images, can be found in Sasaki, K., Nakanishi, A., Yee, S., Goto, Y. & Sato, M. A. (2009).

1. These jolts and bodily reflexes are but a few of the “feels” of mobility in the arctic, (Cresswell, 2010, p. 25).

3. Following Vannini & Taggart (2012), “Your island car is not just an automobile; it is an embodiment of island roads.” (p. 6).

2. The information in this paragraph is drawn from an interview with Alana Mero of the Aurora Research Institute in Inuvik. Alana was an

4. For more on hierarchies of mobility, see Cresswell (2010): “. . . speed of

integral gatekeeper during my time in the north.

a more human kind is at the centre of hierarchies of mobility. Being able to get somewhere quickly is increasingly associated with exclusivity.”

3. Aporta (2004); Ingold (2011).

(p. 23).

4. Incidentally, Gwich’in means “one who dwells” (Osgood, 1970).

105

5. This web of trails can be considered, according to Ingold, “a meshwork

11. Ingold (2007); Ingold (2000); Vannini & Taggart (2012).

of interwoven trails rather than a network of intersecting routes. The

12. These trails–the snowmobile tracks I follow and the tire marks on the

lines of the meshwork are the trails along which life is lived.” Also,

ice road–are self-reinforcing, following Ingold: “In effect, the ‘walk’ of

“These lines are typically winding and irregular, yet comprehensively

the line retraces your own ‘walk’ through the terrain.” (2007, p. 84). Even

entangled into a close-knit tissue.” (2007, p. 81, original emphasis).

so, their dynamic nature demands the traveller’s constant attention.

6. These seasonal dynamics are highlighted in Ingold (2008): “Inhabitants,

Haida Gwaii

I contend, make their way through a world-in-formation rather than

1. Lemphers (2010).

across its preformed surface. As they do so, and depending on the circumstances, they may experience wind and rain, sunshine and

2. Kovach (2009) observes that “colonialism history has disrupted

mist, frost and snow, and a host of other conditions, all of which

the ability of Indigenous peoples to uphold knowledges by cultural

fundamentally affect their moods and motivations, their movements,

methodologies. While colonialism has interrupted this organic

and their possibilities of subsistence, even as they sculpt and erode the

transmission, many Indigenous peoples recognize that for their

plethora of surfaces upon which inhabitants tread.” (p. 1802).

cultural knowledge to survive it must live in many forms, including

7. “Snow may be covered by further falls or may eventually melt away,

Western education and research” (p. 12). In many ways the work being

sand may be sculpted anew by the wind or washed by the tide, mud

undertaken by the Skidegate Haida Immersion Program is indicative

may be dissolved by the rain, and moss or grass may grow over again.

of this recognition.

Footprints thus have a temporal existence, a duration, which is bound

3. In his account of the orthographic and place-naming process, Kevin

to the very dynamics of the ground to which they belong: to the cycles

hints at the process of remembrance outlined by McCartney (2009):

of organic growth and decay, of the weather, and of the seasons.”

“locations on the land served as mnemonic aids, or pegs, upon which

(Ingold, 2010, p. 129).

myriad associations and oral narratives were hung” (p. 85).

8. This anecdote and accompanying history were provided as well by

4. Participant observation at its fishiest (Crang & Cook, 2007).

Alana Mero; for a similar summary see Salanave (1994).

5. “Narrative recollections and memories about history, tradition and life

9. Slowey (2009) addresses the “false dichotomy” often present in issues

experience represent distinct and powerful bodies of local knowledge

of resource development and conservation, focusing on the Vuntut

that have to be appreciated in their totality, rather than fragmented

Gwitch’in. She argues that “development is not about choosing (culture

into data” (Cruikshank, 2003, cited in McCartney, 2009, p. 86). I am

or modernity) but rather how to secure the best of both worlds.”

grateful to Mary for sharing her story with me, and have refrained

(p. 229).

from analyzing it too much–rather, I have tried to retain its metaphoric qualities and apply them to other experiences in Haida Gwaii.

10. Human routes in the North exhibit similar yearly variance–see Aporta (2004).

6. While I believe I did fairly well at remembering Skidegate Haida words 106

as they sound, many of the Elders I spoke with would have had to refer

13. Chief Guujaaw (2012), entries 12371-12379.

to written material to recall the ways in which these words are now spelled. My own attempts at orthography would be nothing short of CONCLUSIONS

blasphemous, so I have referred to the SHIP Xaayda Kil Glossary, Draft #13 (2011), for spellings here. To my ear, k’aww is pronounced /gaʊ/

1. Harris (2002); Flanagan, Alcantara, & Le Dressay (2010).

7. To my ear this is pronounced /guː/den/naɪ/

2. Chilisa (2012).

8. Manipulation aside, fulfilling the wishes of Elders is, in my belief, a

3. Crang & Cook (2007).

simple act of human decency. It is also an enduring and expected piece of traditional social decorum and an important element of cultural

4. Ingold (2007).

exchange and continuity, as explained by Hereditary Chief Guujaaw

5. Vannini, (2011).

in his oral testimony before the Joint Review Panel for the Enbridge Northern Gateway Project in Old Massett: “On my own, I travelled

6. Ingold (2007); Ingold (2000); Vannini & Taggart (2012).

around the islands on little boats, little rowboats and canoes and just

7. Salinave (1994).

generally enjoyed the adventure and often brought things to the Elders

8. This sentiment is borrowed from Lempers (2010), although I readily

that were in the village as was proper for a young person to be doing,

admit that as a coastal British Columbian I have trouble maintaining

and in that way I learned stories from the old people and some deeper

objectivity concerning the Northern Gateway Pipeline proposal.

knowledge of the culture and relationship to the land and the places.”

(2012, entry 12369)

9. Or, as Ingold says regarding the straightening of the line, towards “civility and moral rectitude” (2007, p. 4).

9. There is lackadaisical debate over the spellings of the northern Haida Gwaii towns of Masset and Old Massett. While the two towns differ

10. As per the tenets of Indigenous Methodology as outlined by Wilson

consistently between one another, highway signs leading into Old

(2008), Kovach (2009), and Chilisa (2012).

Masset(t) offer two options within a 50-metre stretch.

10. Cresswell (2010); Ingold (2007).

11. I have only seen this word writtena and can only guess as to its pronunciation.

12. I borrow this visualization from a similar description of acts of conjuring: Wade Davis’ (2009) description of Polynesian navigators’ ability to “pull islands out of the sea” (p. 59).

107

Graybill, F. C., & Boesen, V. (1976). Edward Sheriff Curtis: Visions of a

vanishing race. Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press.

References Anderson, E. N. (1992). A healing place: Ethnographic notes on a

treatment centre. Alcoholism Treatment Quarterly, 9(3-4), 1-21.

Harris, C. (2002). Making Native space: Colonialism, resistance, and reserves

in British Columbia. Vancouver: UBC Press.

Aporta, C. (2004). Routes, trails and tracks: Trail breaking among the Inuit

of Igloolik. Études/Inuit/Studies, 28(2): 9-38.

Heidegger, M. (1971). Poetry, language, thought (A. Hofstadter, Trans.). New

York: Harper & Row.

Barnholden, M. (2009). Circumstances alter photographs: Captain James

Peters’ reports from the War of 1885. Vancouver: Talon.

Ingold, T. (2000). The perception of the environment: Essays on livelihood,

dwelling and skill. London: Routledge.

Brownlie, R. J. (2009). First Nations perspectives and historical thinking in Canada. In A. M. Timpson (Ed.), First Nations, first thoughts: The

impact of Indigenous thought in Canada (pp. 21–50). Vancouver:

UBC Press.

Ingold, T. (2007). Lines: A brief history. London: Routledge.

Ingold, T. (2008). Bindings against boundaries: entanglements of life in an

open world. Environment and Planning A, 40, 1796-1810.

Chief Guujaaw. (2012). Oral presentation. Joint review panel for the Enbridge Northern Gateway Project: Hearing order OH-4 2011. Hearing conducted at Old Massett, British Columbia.

Retrieved from https://www.neb-one.gc.ca/ll-eng/livelink.

exe/fetch/2000/90464/90552/384192/620327/628981/793622/

International_Reporting_Inc._-_Vol.22-TueFeb28.12_-_

A2Q5S4?nodeid=793623&vernum=0

Ingold, T. (2010). Footprints through the weather world: Walking, breathing, knowing. Journal of the Royal Anthropological Institute (N.S.), 16, S121-S129.

Ingold, T. (2011). Being alive: Essays on movement, knowledge and description.

London: Routledge.

Kovach, M. (2009). Indigenous methodologies: Characteristics, conversations,

and contexts. Toronto: University of Toronto Press.

Chilisa, B. (2012). Indigenous research methodologies. Thousand Oaks: Sage.

Crang, M., & Cook, I. (2007). Doing ethnographies. London: Sage.

La Praire, C. (2002). Aboriginal over-representation in the criminal justice

system: A tale of nine cities. Canada Journal of Criminology, 44(2), 181-208.

Cresswell, T. (2010). Towards a politics of mobility. Environment and

Planning D: Society and Space, 28, 17–31.

Lemphers, N. (2010). Pipeline to nowhere: Uncertainty and unanswered

questions about the Enbridge Northern Gateway Pipeline. Alberta:

The Pembina Institute.

Davis, W. (2009). The wayfinders: Why ancient wisdom matters in the modern world. Toronto: House of Anansi Press.

Farley, M., Lynne, J., Cotton, A. J. (2005). Prostitution in Vancouver: Violence

and the colonization of First Nations women. Transcultural Psychiatry, 42(2), 242-271.

Monture, P. A. (2010). A vicious circle: Child welfare and the First Nations.

Canadian Journal of Welfare Law, 3, 1-17.

McCartney, L. (2009). Respecting First Nations oral histories: Copyright

complexities and archiving Aboriginal stories. In A. M. Timpson (Ed.), First Nations, first thoughts: The impact of Indigenous thought

in Canada (pp. 77–96). Vancouver: UBC Press.

Flanagan, T., Alcantara, C., & Le Dressay, A. (2010). Beyond the Indian Act:

Restoring Aboriginal property rights. Montreal: McGill–Queen’s

University Press.

Foucault, M. (1977). Discipline & punish: The birth of the prison. New York: Pantheon.

MacDonald, F. (2009). The Manitoba government’s shift to “autonomous” 109

First Nations child welfare: Empowerment or privatization? In A. M. Timpson (Ed.), First Nations, first thoughts: The impact of Indigenous

thought in Canada (pp. 173–198). Vancouver: UBC Press.

content/uploads/2011/06/ship_xaayda_kil_glossary-2010-March.pdf

MacDonald, K. (2011, February 9). So close, he brought the barbeque [Web

log post]. Retrieved from http://lens.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/02/09/

so-close-he-brought-the-barbecue/

Sontag, S. (2003). Regarding the pain of others. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Sontag, S. (1973). On photography. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

Moustakas, C. (1994). Phenomenological research methods. Thousand Oaks: Sage.

Taggart, J. (2009, July). Salt & earth: A Whole Village photo essay. Briarpatch Magazine. Retrieved from http://briarpatchmagazine.com/articles/ view/salt-and-earth

Murphy, M. (2009). Civilization, self-determination, and reconciliation. In A. M. Timpson (Ed.), First Nations, first thoughts: The impact of

Indigenous thought in Canada (pp. 251–278). Vancouver: UBC Press.

Vannini, P. (2011). Constellations of ferry (im)mobility: Islandness as the

performance and politics of insulation and isolation. Cultural

Geographies, 18(2), 249-271.

Osgood, C. (1970). Contributions to the ethnography of the Kutchin. New

Haven, CT: Human Relations Area Files Press.

Vannini, P., & Taggart, J. (2012). Doing islandness: A non-representational

approach to an island’s sense of place. Cultural Geographies, 1–18.

doi: 10.1177/1474474011428098

Peers, L. & Brown, A. K. (2009). Colonial photographs and postcolonial

relationships: The Kinai-Oxford Photographic Histories Project. In A. M. Timpson (Ed.), First Nations, first thoughts: The impact of

Indigenous thought in Canada (pp. 123–144). Vancouver: UBC Press.

Wilson, S. (2008). Research is ceremony: Indigenous research methods.

Halifax: Fernwood.

Pink, S. (2001). Doing visual ethnography. London: Sage.

Whittles, M., & Patterson, T. (2009). Nápi and the city: Siksikaitsitapi

narratives revisited. In A. M. Timpson (Ed.), First Nations, first

thoughts: The impact of Indigenous thought in Canada (pp. 97–119).

Vancouver: UBC Press.

Sasaki, K., Nakanishi, A., Yee, S., Goto, Y. & Sato, M. A. (Eds.). (2009). This

day of change: 132 photographers capture hope. Tokyo: Kodansha.

Salanave, J. (1994). Giving traditional ecological knowledge its rightful place

in environmental impact assessment. Northern Perspectives, 22(1), 1-7.

Slowley, G. A. (2009). A fine balance? Aboriginal peoples in the Canadian

north and the dilemma of development. In A. M. Timpson (Ed.),

First Nations, first thoughts: The impact of Indigenous thought in Canada (pp. 229–247). Vancouver: UBC Press.

Skidegate Haida Immersion Program. (2011). SHIP Xaayda Kil glossary:

March 2011, draft #13. Retrieved from http://www.sd50.bc.ca/wp110