Today is the rainiest Canada Day I can remember and it allows me to sit a little longer with a cup of coffee and think about this country and what it means to me.
My experiences of Canada are really tied to everything I got to do last weekend. Cian finished Grade 9 and absolutely loves fishing. I, however, am not good at fishing. Fortunately, I know some lovely guys who are. Unfortunately, they live a bit far away. One such excellent fisherman is my friend Phil. Phil and I have known each other for 20 years. He was a teenager when he started working for Ric at CRCO and still lives in his home community of Grandmother's Bay. A few months ago I texted him and asked if he would take us fishing and his response was short and sweet "Yup. I put it in the calendar" and true to his word he was ready to go June 22.
Phil is infinitely more organized than I am. I tend to cram extra things and opportunities into every extra minute of living which is how I drove up to Missinipe with my beat-up duct-taped Suzuki full of random food and supplies with my warped Esquif (now complete with functional stern seat thanks to Keith) strapped to the roof. This level of chaos would surprise no one including Cian who was my partner in crime for this adventure.
This trip was especially disorganized with the end of the school year and soccer season taking up every evening. Cian actually got all the gear ready in the garage and I booked our campsite for the first night the night before because when I booked the Paddler's Hostel they only had Sat and Sun night. I usually see the advantages of last minute life but occasionally there are disadvantages such as booking last minute campsites in a system you aren't used to. Luckily they had one left.
We did manage to get going by 8:30 on Friday morning and were determined to do the whole drive as we had an epic day of fishing planned for Saturday. It turns out our drive turned a bit epic as well. It appears that Saskatchewan feels that zebra mussels can live on an upside down canoe driving at highway speeds. Their solution to that is to not really have any signs about it (I am told there was a highway sign) and definitely no sign at the stop I remember stopping at. They just put a random guy with a pick-up truck in a gravel parking lot. No sign. Just a guy hanging out on a summer day. So I made the mistake of not stopping to chat with said random gentleman hanging out in a gravel parking lot on my epic journey to Northern Saskatchewan. I mean really I didn't have any time for chit chat especially when I was unaware this was a requirement. What we really didn't have time for was to be stopped THREE towns later with lights and sirens from the conservation officers saying that I missed the check stop (the not labeled one) and that I would get a LARGE fine AND had to go BACK three towns to the random guy in the parking lot. I'm still not clear how they thought I was trying to smuggle my canoe into Saskatchewan. This was the first of three times we would be stopped by conservation officers in a four day trip. Cian asked me not to get arrested so clearly his expectations of his mom are low but I managed to clear that bar.
With our meandering Highway 16 zebra mussels detour we were definitely delayed so we arrived in La Ronge around 9pm. I had booked the campsite at Lac La Ronge provincial campground. I remembered through 20 year old hazy memories seeing the sign for it but couldn't seem to find it so we asked Siri how to get there. She was no help. So I looked at the website. It appears that Lac La Ronge Provincial campground is more of a idea than a specific place- you know, like purgatory which is what I felt like I was in as my circumstances started to dawn on me. I had assumed that it was a little campground outside of La Ronge with a few loops and we had a spot by the lake which sounded great. When I zoomed out on the map however I realized that Lac La Ronge Provincial campground was more a euphemism for that entire region of Saskatchewan. By some divine miracle campsite C-1 which I thought would be in La Ronge was not in Pine Falls or some other random Saskatchewan location but was beside Otter Rapids just outside of Missinipe. Perfect! I knew how to get there but now we were racing daylight. Good thing I knew how to drive that gravel road. We barrelled down the old gravel road past Lynx Lake, a black bear, forest fire regrowth and Missinipe to hit the Churchill Bridge making it there with just enough daylight to set up our tent.
In the morning we do what everyone does when they cross the bridge at Otter Rapids we went and checked out the rapids. Cian had no interest in going down them despite me telling him old tales of how his mom used to take kids down them and how she swam them in summers long ago. This did not pique his interest. He was singularly minded - today was fishing day.
Just before meeting up with Phil we rounded the bend to CRCO. My old workplace has new owners this summer as Ric retired so I wasn't sure that I would see him but sure enough he was outside the office chatting with Dan and a couple other folks and we stopped in for a hug before the public dock. He had seen my name on the Paddlers Hostel booking and when I told him that Phil was taking us fishing and how I didn't even had the line on the rod for Cian Ric smiled his usual smile and said "I don't think you need to worry. Phil will take care of you like he always has.". The older generation has always been amused by my unlikely friendship with Phil but Ric's statement rang so true - Phil has always taken care of me even when he was a teenager. I instantly felt better that I was so disorganized and just rested in the fact that it was going to be a good day.
We met Phil at the public dock. He was all set up with his motorboat and picked up my barrel to carry it down to the water. Cian also found an immediate comfort following closely behind Phil armed with his tackle box that he got from another "Northern friend" Lee. I am so blessed to know men I would never have gotten to be friends with if I didn't have such love of the outdoors. Men who show up - who take time out of their lives to give such rich memories to my son who loves the things they love. I would drop everything and do anything for these guys - it's so interesting that you can have such an enduring love for people you don't usually see.
It was a blazing hot day with a cloudless blue sky and water like glass. Phil took Cian to all his favourite fishing spots. He fixed up the 2 rods Cian brought and taught him what to use in which water. Phil and I talked all day like we seen each other just the other weekend. Our kids are almost exactly the same age which is wild since we both have 6 year old late additions. We talked with the ease we had when we were young but somehow it was even easier with the comfort of being older and seeing more of life. Phil's nature is perfect for someone like Cian who prefers not to talk but is most comfortable with people who chose to talk a little less (or at slower speed) than his mama. Phil didn't have too much trouble understanding him either. He caught some pike and pickerel and got to catch and throw back all the fish. At the end of the day when we were nice and crispy (despite our sunscreen reapplication) Phil took us down to check out Robertson Falls which I hadn't seen in many years. It was a perfect day.
We got to the dock to meet our second set of conservation officers. This interaction was infinitely worse. I know that conservation officers have important jobs but putting big vests on young people just allows them to puff up their chests while they spew their prejudice. It was clearly outside of the realm of this young man's understanding that an Indigenous man and a white woman could be friends for 20 years despite me telling him exactly that. He harassed us with questions about our day that I am sure would not have happened if Lee or Kevin or Ric had taken us fishing. Cian who usually likes to put in his two cents on any interaction with authorities could definitely read the room (or dock I guess) and kept his mouth shut. I'm still mad I didn't give them a harder time back. I have about 1000 witty retorts now which Keith reminds me I was not likely to say cause I had a 15 year old kid with me and to get into trouble that far from home is a bad idea....but I am still fired up about it. Partly because I have spent my whole life organizing myself to reduce any ounce of vulnerability and I felt vulnerable in this interaction. But mostly because I was furious that this young man saw my friend in such a one-dimensional racist way and that Saskatchewan had armed him with a vest and a false sense of superiority. He tried to reduce this big man to fit his stereotype instead of seeing the kind, thoughtful, caring man standing next to me. The dad of 3, the caretaker of his community, the loving son and brother - all they saw was an Indigenous man that they thought was inherently suspicious and I suspect our friendship made that suspicion even worse. I refuse to let the dock experience colour that beautiful day but I will also not soon forget how that made me feel.
The following day we nursed our well-earned sunburns at the Paddler's Hostel and played Wingspan and then went to paddle upstream. We were stopped AGAIN by the conservation officers asking if we had any fish in the car, if we were going fishing, etc. You would think we were peddling meth although I think we would have been stopped less for that. After the third interaction Cian asked if fishing was illegal which felt like a very fair question. We paddled over to Mosquito Rapids and down Three sisters. I got to show Cian some of my favourite places in this country and tell stories of trips long ago. He still didn't want to go down Otter Rapids which was ok with me. I popped the canoe on the roof of the Suzuki and the guy at the Devil Lake dock said "you've done that a time or two that's clear!" and I have to say that I always have a grateful thought when I pop a canoe yoke on my shoulders that I am still capable or running portage trails with a Royalex canoe on my shoulders - the privilege of that amount of good health is not lost on me.
We went over to Ric's for dinner and he had the old Wings Over Canada episode we were all in and Cian got to see Ric, Mom and Phil all 20 years younger. Cian refused to wear shoes after seeing Ric not wearing shoes.
We hung out at the fire that night - eating marshmallows and enjoying to stars. The next morning came early and we spent the day driving home - our only conservation officer-free day. Cian is actually a pretty decent navigator - much better than Siri who took us to the Regina dump and didn't realize we would have a big detour around Headingley. Even with such a long drive this country is stunningly beautiful - whether it's the Canadian Shield of the north or through the rises and slopes of Q'uappelle Valley - there is beauty everywhere. I'm so grateful to share my love of the outdoors with Cian. I wish I could do that without showing him the shadow side of this country. Anti-Indigenous racism is pervasive. I see it in the lives of my patients every day. I fight against it at work constantly. Despite people waxing poetically about the importance of Truth and Reconciliation their actions speak very different stories. I am consistently welcomed into Indigenous spaces where I should be treated poorly as a settler and as someone who is often representing Women's hospital in Winnipeg but instead I am consistently welcomed with kindness and inclusion. I bring this welcomed heart back to institutional roadblocks and excuses constantly. It is our job to keep fighting. I'm always amazed at how hearts remain open - whether they are the hearts of my friends, my patients or my Premier - there is hope everywhere. I will remember this today on this rainy Canada Day as I sit with my coffee and a beautiful birch bark canoe on the shelf beside me made by Phil's grandma for our wedding 20 years ago. Canada Day celebrates a big country - one big enough to hold all of it's history and the hurts and hopes of all of us.
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