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Click here for the 2007 Columbia River Brigade
Click here for 2006 Events
Click here for 2005 Events
Click here for 2004 Events
2008:
Robusters Participate in the Red Mountain Cancer Prevention Challenge - March 15, 2008
Thanks to the support of many members and the efforts of our Robuster team of four skiers, we were the top fundraisers for the Prevent Cancer Now Challenge held at Red Mountain. In all, we managed to collect $1470.00. Participants had a lot of fun and overall a total of $5500.00 was raised during the event (which was organized by Rossland resident and breast cancer survivor Diana Daghofer).
Our Robuster team consisted of Sue Wrigley, Jan Micklethwaite and two honourary Robusters, Linda Wrigley and Jean Kerr-Penny. Sue also went on to win several of the "athletic" events such as skiing with an egg on a spoon and a ski relay with her sister (as well as several prize draws).
The team also won the "dress Ullr" (Norse snow god) event which was a scavenger hunt. Organizers had scattered old ski equipment in the trees on the Minibowls and Silver Sheep runs and we had to locate a complete set of boots, skis, poles, pants, jacket, gloves, goggles and mitts. It was snowing so heavily that a lot of the gear got covered and won't show up again until spring.
The Robuster presence at the event got a lot of attention and luckily it was warm enough that we could wear our team jackets (with a few layers underneath). I heard several skiers commenting on the skiing dragon boat team. Our team goal of raising awareness was well met and we were pleased to support this initiative since it places an emphasis on preventing cancer, not just dealing with the disease once it has been detected.
2008 Robusters On the Snow:
To enhance our off season training, Robusters have been participating in a variety of activities. One of the most enjoyable has been regular snowshoe outings, organized by our coach, Trish Ostund. Trish also arranged for the group to purchase high quality snowshoes at a discount price, which has made the sport easy to learn.
On Saturday, March 22, a group of nine headed out to Nancy Greene Summit to hike up to various view locations and to visit some of the shelters that have been constructed in this area. We chose the east side of the pass and followed the trails to Cookie Jar, Whispering Pines, Mosquito and Red Dog cabins in the course of the four hour outing. Despite the fact that spring has officially arrived, it felt like midwinter at our high point, Mosquito Cabin, and we were glad of the warm fire and lunch indoors.
Our snowshoes were really the right tools for the job that day, as the light coating of powder hid a breakable crust that seemed to make skiing a challenge (judging by the snow covered outfits on the few skiers we met). We were able to spot a variety of animal tracks in the fresh snow - and had fun figuring out which critters had made them. There was definitely one perfect set of bobcat prints. As well we had good views of local mountains, including Gladstone, near Christina Lake.
There's still lots of snow left in Rossland and the surrounding mountains, so snowshoeing can continue for several more weeks.
(Contributed by Jan)
2007 Columbia River Brigade:
THE SUMMER WE RAN AWAY TO JOIN THE CIRCUS
(By Jan Micklethwaite)
Norm hooked a tape measure to the tailgate of his pickup and stretched it out until it reached 90 inches. “Here's about as far as I'm going to plan for“ he said. Pointing at the number 67 and sweeping his hand back towards zero he added, “Here's where I am and this is what's already behind me. Using slightly more than a hand span he indicated, “Here's what's left. You can bet I'm going to cram in as much living as I can. Once you stop, you just start getting old.” Considering that my personal number, sixty-two, wasn't far behind his, I could only wince at the graphic evidence of time passing.
In fact, Norm's philosophy on life pretty much matched my own and was part of the reason I was standing by the Columbia River somewhere between Shelter Bay and Nakusp waiting for a brigade of voyageur canoes to arrive.
One snowy afternoon in February, after a day on the fabled slopes of Rossland's Red Mountain , I had curled up in front of the fireplace to read the loca l w eekend newspaper. Buried in the back pages was an article that described a plan to honour the explorer and map maker David Thompson on the 200 th anniversary of his arrival at the Columbia River and to recognize his achievements and effect on Canadian history. The main proponent of the plan was a man named Norm Crerar, whose vision was to gather a brigade of voyageur canoes and travel along the Columbia River , stopping at communities large and small, to reintroduce citizens to their history and to highlight the incredible recreational resource that was flowing through their back yards.
Norm Crerar had impressive credentials to back up his idea. In 1967 he had captained a team of canoeists who won a 1967 race from Rocky Mountain House to Montreal for Expo '67. Now, after forty years of canoeing and working in the ski industry, he wanted to spearhead another big event and was prepared to put an incredible amount of time, energy and effort into making it happen. Starting in the summer of 2006, he prepared a slide show, located some contact people, started researching funding sources and headed out to make presentations to Chambers of Commerce in the region where David Thompson had first seen the Columbia River two hundred years ago.
When I read that this brigade would start in Canal Flats, near the headwaters of the Columbia , and travel over 400 kilometers to Trail, I knew I had to get involved. Even more important, I also had to come up with a plan to bring a special group of women along with me. You see, while I'd done some canoeing in the past, my main interest in recent years has been paddling with a dragonboat team called the Kootenay Robusters – a group of breast cancer survivors and associate paddlers who all live in the area and who meet to train at Chris tina Lake. This brigade was ending it's Columbia River journey in one of our home communities, just up the river from historic Fort Shepherd , a Hudson 's Bay trading post located just north of the 49 th parallel.
(Practising on Christina Lake)
Breast cancers survivors have been involved in dragon boating for over ten years, ever since Dr. Don McKenzie convinced a group of Vancouver women to test the prevailing theory that upper body exercise should be limited after such surgery. After a year of study, it became evident that not only did the women thrive physically, but that the mental and emotional benefits of participating in this team activity were considerable. Since then, the concept has spread worldwide and now BCS teams exist all over the world and meet each year to compete in “Pink Dragonboat Festivals.”
Because we are so strongly committed to our dragon boating, I knew it was going to be a challenge to convince my teammates that taking part in a brigade using voyageur canoes would be a good idea. Most of us had never even seen one. However, inspired by another BCS team, we had already discussed paddling the Yukon Quest at some time in the future. This seemed to be an obvious opportunity to try out voyageur canoeing before taking on the challenge of that marathon race. With a paddlers' meeting coming up in less than a week, I cut out the newspaper article and started marshalling my arguments.
The response, to put it mildly, was underwhelming. There were dozens of questions, none of which I could answer, but a few brave souls suggested that I contact Norm to find out more. I went straight home from the meeting and carefully composed an email, outlining who we were, explaining our lack of canoeing experience, but emphasizing our commitment to do well and be full participants in the experience. Within an hour, I had a reply, saying that our group sounded perfect for the brigade and referring me to the web site ( www.canadianvoyageur.com ) for more information. That was where I first figured out that Norm is a man who likes to paint with broad brush strokes, understanding that no matter how well you plan, changes will happen. Where the Robusters tend to overanalyze everything, Norm's ideas were simple and straightforward. For example, on his web site under the heading Responsibilities of Paddlers the requirements were clear: show up and keep up.
That was the start, and, after a few Robusters joined on, others started thinking that it just might work. Soon schedules were being readjusted to accommodate the dates (June 26 to July 7th) and the questions continued flying thick and fast – but now there were some answers. It soon became clear that we needed to share the responsibilities, so a team of “Canoeheads” volunteered to coordinate our efforts. We soon had people planning the intricacies of coaching, setting up paddling rosters, camp organization, transportation, publicity, log/photos, and awareness (our breast cancer agenda). I continued in the role of liaison with the organizers. By the time the brigade got underway, twenty-five women had signed on to do all or part of the expedition.
It was all very well to decide in principle that we would paddle a voyageur canoe in the brigade, but the next step was actually getting our hands on one so we could practice. Here again, Norm Crerar came through, arranging for us to rent a canoe, and even offering to bring it over to Chris tina Lake. He was coming to check out the river route in the West Kootenay region and to speak to some local organizers anyway, so this worked out well. Also, a small Chris tina Lake drinking establishment, Martini's Lounge, held a meat draw to cover our rental costs and with that in place we were set to go. On May 12, we gathered by the lake and unloaded two huge canoes - ours and another one being rented by the Kootenay Mountaineering Club. Weighing over 300 pounds each, these monsters needed everyone available to carry them to the water. Once there, we scrambled in and took our first paddle, with Norm in the stern and the paddlers trying hard to do their best strokes.
What followed was a six-week regimen of endurance building, designed by our coach, Trish Ostlund. Team members drove to the lake three times a week for increasingly long stretches of paddling and stroke correction. Husbands and families saw very little of us as we left home at about 4:30 pm and didn't return until after 10:00 . One partner even visited his spouse at work one day so he could have a chance to talk to her. The demands of our training started to wear on us, but we tried not to waver.
Because we were women, we knew we wouldn't have the strength that comes so naturally to male paddlers, but we were determined to make up for it with good timing and efficiency. As dragonboaters, we already knew what that combination could do, so it was mainly a case of adapting to the new boat and modifying our stroke rate and style. In fact, we all learned a lot from the voyageur canoe about the effect of each paddler's body weight. We never actually dumped, but we came close a couple of times when someone shifted her weight in a way that would barely have registered in the dragonboat but made the voyageur lean precariously.
One last set of skills we needed was how to manoeuvre the boat in moving water – something none of us had tried yet. A team member's son and husband tried to teach us a few river moves on the lake, but we were heading into unknown territory. As neophytes, we knew it would be a challenge trying to negotiate the current and course, while remembering what a hanging draw was supposed to look like.
Finally, on June 26 th with all the preparations complete, the cars loaded up and the team ready, we set off for Canal Flats. As we drove east through Trail w e stopped briefly to watch the Columbia flashing past a set of ugly looking rocks in front of the park we hoped to reach in eleven days. Seeing how quickly the water was moving caused some feelings of trepidation, but there was no turning back now.
At Canal Flats, a tent city had sprung up in the municipal park as teams rolled in and canoes arrived on flatbed trucks. One of our Robuster team mates who couldn't make the trip had loaned us her husband, Nels Green, to transport the canoe and he'd offered to stay for the whole expedition, to trailer the voyageur whenever needed. He'd even arranged to borrow a trailer from the local sea cadets and had constructed a special cradle to hold the canoe securely.
When everyone had arrived, Norm called the first paddlers' meeting to make sure the teams knew what would be happening in the next twelve hours. Then the camp kitchens sprang into action and we all enjoyed a meal together, barely able to contain our excitement. Voyageur shirts, sashes and pins were distributed and then lively music sounded from the traveling stage where the David Thompson Heritage Stage show was set to begin.
As a crowd of locals and brigade members gathered, Cormac Eby a talented young fiddler played some reels and jigs that got everyone in the right mood for the show. After a welcome from various local dignitaries and the exhortation from a local band chief, “Let's get ready to rrrrumble” the show began.
First, a group of voyageurs strolled up to sing, “Flower of Scotland,” which soon became the theme song for the brigade (and still lives on as a brainworm I can't shake). As soon as they had left the stage, a crotchety old timer with a limp painfully mounted the steps. David Thompson, as played by a professional actor, Geoffrey Ewart, began the show by reflecting on his life and place in Canadian history. Ruefully he commented on the CBC's “greatest Canadians list,” asking the audience where they thought he'd be placed. As it turns out, he's number 73, far below Jim Carey, Avril Lavigne and Pamela Anderson. This for the man who spent 28 years traveling over 90,000 kilometres by horse, canoe, dog sled and foot, mapping more of North America than anyone else.
As the play unfolded we caught glimpses of the younger David Thompson as Geoffrey read snatches from the explorer's journals altering his voice to match David's age at the time of writing. We also met his wife of 58 years, the Metis woman, Charlotte Small, who bore thirteen children and traveled with David, acting as a translator and interpreter while he interacted with the many groups of aboriginals he encountered during his explorations. She was credited with being a key factor in his success.
As voyageur participants in the brigade, we were invited to become part of the show, playing the part of guests at Charlotte and David's wedding, singing and dancing as clumsily as the real voyageurs probably did. The play ended with a poignant rendition of Amazing Grace (played on the bagpipes by Norm Crerar) as the audience learned that David Thompson had died at the age of 86, penniless and forgotten. Then, as quickly as Geoff Ewart could scramble up a ladder behind the stage, David's “spirit” loomed over a huge canoe on top of the set and invited us all to celebrate living in this great land with a stirring rendition of “O Canada.”
Once the show was over we took turns sharing a single sink and toilet in the arena before crawling into our sleeping bags for our first night. Morning came early with a generous community breakfast hosted by Canal Flats and then it was time for the paddles to meet the water.
The Robusters had a poignant ceremony to perform before launching. With a water bottle, we christened our canoe “Wanda” after a team member who was in hospital, dealing with a recurrence of cancer. We dedicated our trip to her and started our day by chanting “for Wanda” followed closely by our Robuster cheer, “Bust or no bust, we are robust,” which always generates a good laugh from the crowd. Then our steersperson Joy was grabbed for the first of many interviews with members of the press, who seemed fascinated with the fact that a group of women, many past middle age could be out there planning to paddle to Trail. Finally, we couldn't delay any longer and with cheers and encouragement from the shore crew, we headed out on Columbia Lake to see what the day would bring.
At first, the mellow lake paddling felt very familiar, but before long we arrived at a section of narrow water that quickly became even narrower unti l w e were flying along, in the grip of the current. This would have been exciting enough for our first day, but the river decided to up the ante by throwing in dozens of tight curves as we approached the lovely homes and golf courses of Fairmont Hot Springs.
Because we were traveling right through the middle of a recreational housing development, there were lots of people on the shore cheering us on as we struggled to apply our new river skills to get around each bend. Focused as we were on getting the line just right, it came as a shock when a group of ladies yelled, “Stop, this is your stop. We have cinnamon buns!” Joy , taken entirely by surprise, loudly uttered an expletive she should have deleted, before we swept on by, around a corner and out of sight. There was simply no place to put in – the water was just too fast and even the experienced canoeists missed out on the treats. Luckily some members of the shore crew were able to make our apologies and tried to compensate for the rudeness of the brigade by scarfing down as many cinnamon buns as they could hold.
In the afternoon, the current lessened as the Columbia flowed into Lake Windermere where we encountered wind and waves during the paddle to the city park in Invermere. An official arrival ceremony was set for late afternoon and as the crowds gathered, the voyageurs mounted bright flags on the sterns of the canoes and paddled around the corner in order to make a grand entrance. In a pattern that would become familiar over the course of the next ten days we proceeded to paddle abreast and then stopped about a hundred metres off shore, all in a straight line. Just as David Thompson's brigade had done two hundred years ago, one of our aboriginal paddlers asked formal permission for the brigade to come ashore and the chief of one of the local First Nations replied in his own language, welcoming the group and inviting them to land. We then saluted by tapping our paddles on the gunwhales three times, raising them above our heads in a cheer and then repeating the process twice more. After that, all the paddlers dug deep and we raced for the shore in a flurry of spray and bounding canoes, stopping abruptly just before running up the beach. The crowds seemed to love it and all that could be heard was cheering and the clicking of cameras as we carried our boats above the waterline.
After a community barbeque, the heritage stage show was performed before an enthusiastic audience but all the hoopla was finished by about 9:00 p.m.- and we were too. The paddler and shore crew assignments were read out and people soon drifted off to their tents to try to catch some rest between trains that roared through just behind the park. Little did we know that a more exciting disturbance was in the works.
When we had first set up our camp, we should probably have noticed how lush and green the grass was, but if anyone did, the appropriate connection wasn't made. It was a soft summer evening, and most of us left our tent flies pulled back to aid air circulation. At about 4:00 a.m. the entire camp was woken up by the sounds of hysterical laughter as the sprinkler system inundated the Robusters from every imaginable angle. A couple of enterprising members tried to sneak up on the worst sprinkler heads with garbage cans, getting thoroughly soaked in the process. “ Mission impossible,” muttered one of the dripping paddlers as she relocated her tent.
In the morning the rest of the teams said they knew it was our group that had been hit, because of the laughter. The men in the brigade admitted that their first reaction wouldn't have been a fit of the giggles. As we were setting off, Norm commented on the fact that we'd all been asking for showers and that Invermere had provided them, “at no extra charge,“ causing another round of laughter.
That's pretty much how our days on the brigade played out. Hours of paddling, a few laughs, wonderful community receptions and the camaraderie of the group. In many ways, it was like running away to join the circus. We left homes, families, responsibilities, cell phones and computers behind and tuned into the compelling lure of the river – the need to see what was around the next bend. As we proceeded along, we learned so much from our fellow voyageurs, who took it upon themselves to provide hands-on learning in small enough doses that we could begin to apply the techniques right away. We learned that we were strong, that muscles feeling sore at the end of a long day can feel just fine in the morning and that, as a team, we function incredibly well.
Day by day, the river communities rolled by: Radium Island, where we stopped for tea and scones with a couple of homesteaders who looked like they could be living in the distant past, Edgewater, where only two people witnessed our arrival, but the whole town turned out for the dinner and show, while the local organizer played classical music on a grand piano on stage, Parson and Nicholson, small towns with lots of heart, Golden, where the community pancake breakfast allowed us to mingle with tourists and locals in a lovely setting and Revelstoke where a parade and Canada Day celebrations pumped up our growing patriotism even more.
We had a day of rest in this community, and, after the laundry, showers and shopping were complete, the Robusters joined a local dragon boat team for a practice on the water above the Revelstoke dam. The fact that someone had taken home their steering paddle and then left for the weekend didn't deter them at all. One of the husbands was pressed into service to make a new one – and it worked just fine. We also said goodbye to the Robusters who could only get a week off work and welcomed a replacement crew for the second half of the trip.
Now the river widened and the vistas opened up as we paddled on towards Shelter Bay, then on to Nakusp for a great party and some wild and crazy canoe races, sponsored by businesses in the community. For two days, we had been joined by the Nakusp Canoe Club who arrived back in their hometown to a heroes' welcome and then took first prize in the races (with a little help from some of the professional paddlers in the group.) From Nakusp, it was on to Edgewood , where the whole town had gathered in a park high on a bank with a commanding view of the water. Watching the brigade round the corner, flags flying and drums sounding on shore, sent shivers up the spines of those viewing the spectacle. Almost as amazing was a huge cake in the shape of a voyageur canoe with two paddlers on board, which was cut up and passed out to everyone. Our evening was spent at the Watchan Retreat, enjoying more small town hospitality and trying to return the favour with our lively stage show.
The next day was one we had been dreading because of possible weather challenges that could involve heat or strong winds. We were scheduled to paddle 75 kilometres down the Arrow Lake to Castlegar and we knew it would be a test. The group decided to be on the water at 5:00 a.m., which meant getting up at 3:00, packing our gear, having breakfast and getting back to the lake (a twenty minute drive away). Our loyal helper, Nels, had spent the night sleeping beside the canoes to make sure nothing happened to them, and we were relieved to see that he and they were all fine.
All went as scheduled and we paddled off into a cool and beautiful dawn, heading for the east side of the lake to stay in the shade as much as possible. Five hours later, we pulled into the little village of Deer Park for a crew change and then swapped again at Syringa Provincial Park . Now all that stood between the voyageurs and Castlegar was the Hugh Keenleyside Dam.
We had all been looking forward to going through the locks, a trip not many of us had experienced and it lived up to expectations. First, the brigade paddled in, then the locks closed and the water level dropped and dropped and dropped. Friends, crewmates and bystanders watched from the gallery as the canoes almost disappeared from sight. Finally everyone was at river level so the south gates opened and out we paddled, heading downstream in a fast current for Millenium Park in Castlegar. Once again we had to apply the river skills learned earlier to make a sharp turn out of the swiftly moving river, into the reception area by a small island, and it was a big relief to our supporters to once again see the Robusters among the brigade, more or less in the right place.
Now we were getting into home territory, so there were many familiar faces in the crowd as families, friends and fellow Robusters who hadn't been able to join the brigade arrived to encourage and congratulate the team. That night, although many could have simply driven home to sleep, the team camped with the other crews at Pass Creek Park , enjoying a great salmon barbeque and the final Heritage Stage Show. By the time darkness arrived, the effects of our 3:00 a.m. start were telling on us, and most paddlers were ready for some rest. One last event was a gathering to thank Norm Crerar for organizing the brigade the presentation a bagpipe sculpture created out of water bottles, tubing and a hot water bag. This was because he was heading off the next day to bagpipe school, in order to learn some new techniques and add to his repertoire of two songs.
Next morning, the last day of the brigade, we faced the most challenging stretch of river so far – the section between Castlegar and Trail. With the spring flood still underway and lots of water being released over the dam, the river was alive with whirlpools, eddies and excitement of all kinds. We knew it would be a fast trip, but we didn't realize how fast. Zipping along past well-known landmarks that most of us were seeing from the river for the first time, we hardly needed to paddle, except to keep the canoes tracking.
That morning, Norm and his experienced paddling buddies had gotten up early to drive down to Trail in order to choose the most appropriate landing spot. The arrival site had been changed to a slightly more benign eddy a little upstream of Trail so the jagged rocks we had nervously checked out eleven days earlier, were no longer a problem. Now all we had to do was arrive on time.
At 11:15, with the smoke stacks of Trail just around the corner, we pulled into a convenient bay to wait until noon. A powerboat arrived to report that a good crowd had gathered and in the distance we could hear the pipe band playing. Finally, it was time to give our flags a final shake and push off into the current for our last big entrance. Following a canoe steered by an experienced local paddler, we charged down the river, made a strong turn into the eddy and with incredible relief, came to a stop in quiet water just in front of a steeply sloping hillside covered with a welcoming crowd. The formal request to land was made, permission given and a final charge to shore brought us to the end of our great adventure.
After loading the canoes and enjoying a final meal together, courtesy of the City of Trail, we bid our fellow paddlers goodbye and continued on to complete one last bittersweet task. Still dressed in our voyageur attire, some members of the team made their way to the Kootenay Boundary Regional Hospital. Our brigade experience had started with a focus on our fellow paddler and friend, Wanda Mears, and we wanted to let her know that the Robusters were home and that everyone was safe and well. We also needed to tell her that her courage and spirit had inspired us through all the challenges and difficulties of the trip and that she had been with us all the way. In her room, there were pictures of the canoe being christened with her name and the team heading off on the first day of the brigade. She had followed our progress and her family had made sure she'd heard all the stories of our days on the water. Now as we gathered around her, Wanda knew we were there and responded to our voices and touch, but her personal journey was nearly over. Two days later, she passed away.
Now when I think about the whole experience there are many thoughts and feelings blending together and taking turns coming to the fore. The brigade was a time to rediscover the magnificence of our country, the generosity and warmth of her citizens, the strength and commitment of my teammates and it was an opportunity to reflect on those final inches on the tape measure of life. We all need to step back and ask ourselves what's really important here. For me, the answer is starting to come into clearer focus.
