The Bighouse at Alert Bay
We arrived this morning at Alert Bay, home of the Namgis people, and cultural nexus of the Kwa kwa ka’ wakw nation. Just after breakfast we headed out, striding along the waterfront road or riding in vans to the U’mista Cultural Centre. The museum here houses the potlatch collection, a group of masks and other ceremonial regalia judicially stolen in 1921, when potlatching was outlawed. In more enlightened times, the material has been returned, and now inspires local artists and visitors. A guide took us through the collection, and described the meaning and importance of the pieces.
Then we headed up the hill to the bighouse, or Gyukw dzi. This huge house was built solely to host potlatches, and scores have been held here over the years. It is rare for any outsiders to be able to visit the place. Entering, we were impressed by the richly carved houseposts and the huge beams that supported the house, as well as the finely painted screens that decorated the back wall. Finding seats, we watched students of the Tsatsatla Dancers. They presented a selection of dances as they would appear at a serious potlatch. At the bighouse all of our senses were engaged – we watched the swirling button blankets, heard the beating of the log drum, smelled the smoky fire, and tasted sockeye salmon and Indian frybread. At the conclusion of the presentation, Captain Kalbach received a print to mark the long-standing relationship between the people of Alert Bay and the Sea Bird, including all who travel aboard her.
For the afternoon, we traveled east through Johnstone Strait. As salmon migrate to the Frasier River, they must take the northern or southern route around Vancouver Island. Either way has constrictions that concentrate the salmon. And at both spots, killer whales gather to “greet” the fish. The scenery was great, with green mountainsides glowing in the bright sun, and a fresh north wind stirring the waves. And we found three groups of whales! The first were a group of nine. One female had a distinctive notch in the leading edge of her dorsal fin. But though we studied our whale ID catalogs, we found no match. Our lowered hydrophone revealed quiet waters. Could these be the comparatively sneaky transient meat-eaters? We left the matter unresolved. Our next group was larger and far noisier. The hydrophone brought us rhapsodic squeals and twitters. Eventually we learned that this was part of G-pod, a group of salmon specialists. Again eastbound, we encountered our third group. Considering that they were called I-pod, they might have given us the best sounds of all, but we contented ourselves with looking. The engaging creatures surfaced in echelon, lashed the water with their tails, spyhopped, and indulged in compelling acrobatics that seemed designed to keep us watching. At last, we tore our eyes away and headed for the San Juan Islands.
The Northwest Coast abounds with cultural and natural history. The north end of Vancouver Island is justifiably famous for both, and we enjoyed the best of what it can offer.
We arrived this morning at Alert Bay, home of the Namgis people, and cultural nexus of the Kwa kwa ka’ wakw nation. Just after breakfast we headed out, striding along the waterfront road or riding in vans to the U’mista Cultural Centre. The museum here houses the potlatch collection, a group of masks and other ceremonial regalia judicially stolen in 1921, when potlatching was outlawed. In more enlightened times, the material has been returned, and now inspires local artists and visitors. A guide took us through the collection, and described the meaning and importance of the pieces.
Then we headed up the hill to the bighouse, or Gyukw dzi. This huge house was built solely to host potlatches, and scores have been held here over the years. It is rare for any outsiders to be able to visit the place. Entering, we were impressed by the richly carved houseposts and the huge beams that supported the house, as well as the finely painted screens that decorated the back wall. Finding seats, we watched students of the Tsatsatla Dancers. They presented a selection of dances as they would appear at a serious potlatch. At the bighouse all of our senses were engaged – we watched the swirling button blankets, heard the beating of the log drum, smelled the smoky fire, and tasted sockeye salmon and Indian frybread. At the conclusion of the presentation, Captain Kalbach received a print to mark the long-standing relationship between the people of Alert Bay and the Sea Bird, including all who travel aboard her.
For the afternoon, we traveled east through Johnstone Strait. As salmon migrate to the Frasier River, they must take the northern or southern route around Vancouver Island. Either way has constrictions that concentrate the salmon. And at both spots, killer whales gather to “greet” the fish. The scenery was great, with green mountainsides glowing in the bright sun, and a fresh north wind stirring the waves. And we found three groups of whales! The first were a group of nine. One female had a distinctive notch in the leading edge of her dorsal fin. But though we studied our whale ID catalogs, we found no match. Our lowered hydrophone revealed quiet waters. Could these be the comparatively sneaky transient meat-eaters? We left the matter unresolved. Our next group was larger and far noisier. The hydrophone brought us rhapsodic squeals and twitters. Eventually we learned that this was part of G-pod, a group of salmon specialists. Again eastbound, we encountered our third group. Considering that they were called I-pod, they might have given us the best sounds of all, but we contented ourselves with looking. The engaging creatures surfaced in echelon, lashed the water with their tails, spyhopped, and indulged in compelling acrobatics that seemed designed to keep us watching. At last, we tore our eyes away and headed for the San Juan Islands.
The Northwest Coast abounds with cultural and natural history. The north end of Vancouver Island is justifiably famous for both, and we enjoyed the best of what it can offer.
