26 feet to the Charlottes
by June Cameron
Vancouver: Heritage House, 2009, IBSN 978-1-894974-61-5, 240 pp. $19.95 paper.

June Cameron's 26 feet to the Charlottes is a memoir in which life and writing meet. In this easy-reading piece of non-fiction, Cameron chronicles her adventures with her partner, Paul Holsinger, when they set out in his sloop the Wood Duck in 1983 and travelled along the coast of the Queen Charlotte Islands, now called the Haida Gwai. Most usefully, Cameron supplies a map of the area with an insert map of the same area during the time of her travels.

Cameron recounts not only day-to-day details of travel and agenda but also aspects of history, geography and west-coast Indian lore. We hear about weather conditions, items of clothing (sun-bathing nude on the deck on one occasion, 191), and menu--ranging from salmon they had learned to smoke following an First Nation practice (26-28) to homemade Swedish limpa bread made by adding a boiled potato to the rye flour (196). On one occasion there is a terrible accident in the refrigeration unit of their boat. Although the usual practice had been to shut down the machine before clearing a jam, crew member Bob Parton tried to clear it while it was still operating. Cameron suggests their associate may have slipped, when his son-in-law, Dave, heard an

awful scream when the blade caught Bob and began dragging him into the auger. The young man realized that by the time he struggled through two rooms packed ceiling-high with heaps of ice and got to the control switch outside the door, it would be far too late to save Bob, so he lunged toward him and tried to pull him loose. (47)

In his heroic effort to save his father-in-law, Dave lost an arm and was only saved from losing his own life by Bob's body jamming the works. As on the occasions during which their passage is threatened by high winds or their lack, hostile natives and other physical impediments, this real-life accident reminds us that tragedy finds its actual source in real life.

Cameron also discusses geographical aspects of the land she and her partner travel alongside. We learn how misguided logging practices led lumber companies to remove all growth and replant one species of tree using herbicides to prevent the regrowth of the natural homogeneous mixture of trees. The result is a stark and denuded landscape subject to erosion and the destruction of the rainforest. Only recently, Cameron remarks, have the Haida and environmentalists lobbied against this opportunistic practice that, after all, makes no long-term business sense in the logging industry. Similarly, Cameron postulates reasons for the deserted mining towns and fish canneries that have had to be shut down after an over-zealous beginning with only short-term profits in view.

Cameron also highlights historical events, for example, when she comes across Alexander Mackenzie's simple notation on a rock at the entrance to Dean channel: "Alex Mackenzie from Canada by land 22d July, 1793," and goes on to remind the reader of the under-acknowledged figures in Canadians in history. Apparently, Mackenzie had made the extremely difficult journey overland long before any other explorer, and remarks how he showed fortitude at every turn. Due to cloudy skies that made it impossible for him to use the sextant that needs to be set by the stars, Mackenzie delayed at that location for longer than he was welcome by the First Nations. Finally he was rewarded with a clear night or his crew might have mutinied.

Luckily, the clouds cleared away enough for him to determine that they had reached 128.2 degrees west of Greenwich. That done, he melted vermilion with melted grease, wrote his message on a rock and set out with his men to retrace their steps east. (69)

Whereas Mackenzie put up with the Natives' coming on board and stealing what they thought should be a gift to their people from a great man such as Mackenzie, George Vancouver, called "Macubah" by the Natives, actually fired on the Natives. This recounting of history leads Cameron's discussion of Native lore and a discrepancy between the white man's worldview and that of the Indian's.

One of the most saddening tales about the clash of the white man and the Indian concerns the chastisement of the Haida chief Koyah at the hands of the British Captain Kendrick, who could not understand that appropriating property was not necessarily stealing. Although his predecessor, Captain Gray, had noticed this behaviour and had tactfully overlooked it for diplomatic reasons as a fur-trader, Captain Kendrick took it in his own hands to discipline the chief of the Haida:

When he saw the chief, Koyah, and his companions helping themselves to things they fancied, he assumed that they were common thieves and he reacted violently, punishing them as he would have treated any crew member who disobeyed him. He chopped off Koyah's hair, slapped paint on his face and jammed his legs into the mouth of a cannon with the threat that he would blow him to kingdom come unless his people behaved differently. (170)

Unfortunately, this humiliation of their chief turned the Haida into fierce enemies of the white man. And as Cameron reveals, even greater misunderstandings and injustices have accumulated in history, ranging from the small pox that nearly wiped out the Haida nation to taking away the language and culture and pride of those original people.

Most interesting is Cameron's careful delineation of aspects of Haida culture. Essentially matriarchal, the husband would typically travel to his wife's family, and thus daughters were considered an asset that brought wealth and power to their families. Intermarriage within members of the same crest (Raven, Wolf, etc.) was considered taboo. Table manners among the Haida were such that it was considered rude to talk during mealtime, as was eating quickly. Cameron includes a fascinating description of the traditional long house, in which elements of the house are named after the human body so that the extended Haida clans living communally together may be said to have considered themselves as 'one body.' As well as a fascinating geographer and historian, Cameron proves herself an able anthropologist.

26 feet to the Charlottes proves a most varied and entertaining read, a book that may be picked up at intervals and read with great satisfaction as some new nugget of information is revealed.

Gillian Harding-Russell lives, reviews, edits, teaches and writes in Regina. Her latest collection of poetry is I forgot to tell you (Thistledown Press, 2007).

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