By Zachary Hough Solomon
Written July 27, 2016
The splashing pallet of evening is lurking further and further towards darkness, by around 11:50pm the sun sets now. Reading Louise Erdich’s Love Medicine one evening in the field house, I came upon “The lights, shooting high, made the ground rock underneath me.” She was writing about the Aurora Borealis in the northern Midwest sky, where I am from regionally. Arriving in Atlin, BC, I had the ignorant promise in my mind of meeting the deep swirling greens every night, not the twenty plus hours of sunlight that greeted us in June. Atlin and Round River is not what I expected, in terms of small things that distinguish here. Recently, with the growing darkness it presents the opportunity of northern lights in our last days here.
The recent week here has been a mixture of transition, reflection and rest.
After spending over four weeks here, we have settled in. We feel more as though we have begun to untangle ourselves from the constrictions of temporarily living in Atlin. It does not feel like vacation anymore. The brief and vicarious touring has shifted further towards seizing a grip on the fleeting reaches of northern summer. The mosquitos buzzing in our cochleas have come to rest with the latter swing of summer. The discombobulation on arrival and the hyper eagerness to comprehend this place with chump smile and manic flicker of camera lens is giving way a bit, our orientation is slowing and steadying. For myself, at least, I am now processing that everywhere is picturesque, be it walks to the gas station or hikes to mountain tops. To slow things down has released a greater majesty of the area — one that is not boutique or queer. The joy is passing through forest that yields remedy and food—the mystery of Mountain Sorrels sweet to bitter continuum, the calming Rose Root, memories of tender Fireweed shoots, and the occasional glimpse of High Bush Cranberry ripening in its stages of crimson—sweetening for bears and maybe me. This is the majesty that grows.
Of late, after returning from the Nakina Trail, we had the pleasure of visiting with Tlingit community members John Ward and Peter Kirby to talk about our experiences. Hours of talking revealed that John Ward, a master steward of the trail, had traversed it 34 times. Peter told a story of losing his way in the deep forest and calling John Ward back in Atlin to describe his surroundings over the satellite phone. John quickly recognized the vegetation and section of trail, and quickly guided him back to the correct path with ease. After hiking there and back once, the difficulty of fielding my own bearings while in the immense thickness of forest is difficult. So, to guide from his minds eye expressed to me how incredible the detail and capacity of his knowledge is to the land.
Peter described the events of a moose being engulfed by wolves in the snow of his backyard, and how the snow was painted red in a blink. This reminded me of our first time encountering the remains of a moose at Sentinel Mountain in a lush willow meadow, as we crossed a singular moose hoof stranded on the trail. The dismembered hoof lay across our path, the trail surrounded by tall grasses and wildflowers mixing with rolling patches of timber; history of wolves frequenting the valley was apparent with the fresh prints and scat all along the trail, alongside endless moose prints intermixing on the megafauna highway. I was struck by how the hoof was just cleaved off level — snapping the moose’s pillar like stilts. Reminiscing, I can begin to comprehend and respect the power and ferocity of wolves. Whilst visiting with Peter, he offered to share some moose meat with us. His promise recently came true with the delivery of moose roasts and moose burger from a local messenger. The meat is rich and lean, and paired well with the day’s harvest of crowberry, and red raspberry cake.
The complexities of a small town aren’t usually conveyed, and for Atlin it is a must — it is not just charm mixed in with the right ratio of grit but a sacred balance and struggle amongst itself for sustainability, locality, modern amenities and its rich culture. Searching for this mean, it is strongly guided by the Tlingit who have a nuanced ideology for this land and region; the land being the provider for identity but also economy of this place. Many approaches to contentious issues have been met with nuanced philosophy of how to manage extractive industry, development, hunting, for example.
An observation I have made is the destruction of dichotomies. Decisions are more rarely framed as non-negotiable but logical and made with deep connection. The conservation of land in the TRT land plan does not say there can’t be mining but raises the debate to “can’t have mining here, where too much is it at stake.” In the past, where Atlin’s power grid depended on diesel, leadership didn’t say “no electricity until we have full solar panels.” No, the TRT established a micro-hydro plant that was sustainable. It was not all or nothing with damming a body of water but diverting a fraction for what they needed and harvesting that power to live comfortably without disturbing the waters. This example provides insight to the ideology of reduced harm, one that still meets the needs of a community and clears the vacuum of gridlock. On personal scales, many community members here have deep connection and interaction with the land but do not condemn mining. They have personal relationships intertwined within the two and refuse to pit ideology into separation.
This whole community seeks conservation and protection of this land, some in different approaches and others with more understanding nuances. The take away message I have noticed, is that the economy is limited here and mining and other resource extraction is inevitable. The scope, process and location is still something that can be done more justly. Someone may work to conserve salmon populations for the community and surrounding ecosystems but still feel pride for their daughter who drives a truck at a mine. What makes this inevitable, is a common naivety that I came here with.
The understanding I lacked came from being from a place with a more diverse economy for all that seek conservation of the land. The reciprocal interaction between more industrial and urban places depends upon the continued practices and non-renewable economies of locations as isolated as here. What these places produce is to provide for the life I live: all the metals, compounds, and petroleum products. My naivety before was to condemn the industries and call for an end of mining, to join ideology or movements that do not offer sufficient and just transition for economies. There is not just mining here but also vibrant art, exploration, community-based businesses that provide necessities of medical care and food, but these former industries are the most contentious and globalized.
The reading and learning we have done has given thorough a beginning to understanding the biosphere of the greater Atlin area, then transitioning we have begun to comprehend the issues, faults and strengths between the stewardship; balancing the qualitative and quantitative epistemologies, both separate and combined. Here in Atlin, there is great translation between the usefulness and compliments of each other to work to the needs, history and culture of here. At this intersection of being on the land, stewardship and understanding that the ethnosphere comprises economy, identity, language, and recreation are all derived from the biosphere, means the health of each reciprocates, and that is where we can find the conservation of place.
Here’s a brief overview of the past week’s events:
July 18th—Visited Taku Wild, a Tlingit run company, to buy smoked salmon to bring home. Then set up a game camera on the McDonald Lake road along a creek.
July 19th— Hiked on the El Dorado trail and set up a game camera to monitor wildlife at a bear rub-tree. In the evening we shared our experiences from the Nakina with John Ward and Peter Kirby.
July 20th —Visited the Tlingit economic center in the morning. We spent the whole day working on academics and saying goodbye to Susie, who flew out of Whitehorse that evening. Wayne (the messenger) brought his moose meat over that he had hunted, then in the evening we met Kaggie, our new instructor.
July 21st—Hiked around Ruby mountain in search of ungulates.
July 22nd— Returned to Sentinel Mountain to get temperature loggers for our GLORIA climate project, recovered two years of climate data, downloading and replacing batteries on all aspects of the foggy peak.
July 23rd —Ruby Mountain sheep work, and later celebrating Jordan’s 22nd B-day with moose meat and crowberry.
July 24th—Spent the day in the Mount Vaughan area tracking ten sheep and hiking in the alpine.