Latest news with #Waskaganish
CBC
4 days ago
- Lifestyle
- CBC
Canoe expedition retraces historic 1,200-kilometre fur-trade route to James Bay
Social Sharing A small team of paddlers has set off this spring, travelling 1,200 kilometres by canoe and portage from Tadoussac, Que., to James Bay. They'll be reviving an ancient route traced by fur traders and Indigenous guides centuries ago. "We don't have big political statements in this expedition. We just want meet people," said Bruno Forest, an author, canoe guide, event organizer, and cultural mediator who's leading the expedition. "We think that the canoe is a way that First Nations and ourselves can meet on that ground." The "À La Mer Du Nord" team includes a core group of eight individuals from different communities and with various skills: a fisher, a cook, a veteran, a journalist, and Indigenous land guides. Other paddlers will join the group at various points along the way. Their journey began last Saturday and they're aiming to reach Waskaganish, a northern Quebec Cree community, by mid-August, making stops in several Indigenous communities. For Forest, simply traveling the route is not enough — he wants to deepen the connection to old knowledge, reminiscent of the fur traders. To achieve this, he collaborated with Lionel Tremblay and Allain Gallant of Les Canots Tremblay to construct traditional cedar canoes. "The time of wooden canoes is passed. But the artisans that built them, the youngest of them is 80 years old today, and the oldest is 95. So it's a very old and precious knowledge," said Forest. The canoes are heavier and more fragile, but they move silently on the water, which does not scare away fish. "It is such a piece of art. There's something that we can't quantify… with the wood, with the beauty of the canoe, of nature. And there's a poetry and that, and I think that's a value in itself," said Forest. George Diamond, who's originally from Waskaganish and is part of the local elders' council there, appreciates the group's efforts to retrace the old fur trade route. For him, watching others take up the paddle offers an opportunity to reflect on the spirit of shared paths and shared pasts. "The way I looked at this canoe trip, it could be a reconciliation project," said Diamond. He plans to organize a welcome event for the brigade in Waskaganish. Proud legacy of canoe-making Diamond says the journey shines light on the cultural pride and legacy of canoe-making in his region. "We're very proud of our history as canoe makers of James Bay, because that was the main means of transportation in the past. Our people used our rivers as highways," said Diamond. Waskaganish was home to the Rupert House canoe factory, a Cree-operated facility that thrived in the mid-20th Century. This factory produced large wood-and-canvas freighter canoes. "All these paddling routes, our ancestors and voyageurs took together. There are so many of them. And this happens to be just one of the main ones. They paddled all over Quebec," said Diamond. "This route was something that our people had to learn to survive on [during] the fur trade," Diamond also emphasized the often-unrecognized labour and knowledge Indigenous peoples brought to the trade networks. "A lot of Cree people who came down the river were guides — they guided the first fur traders, and the Cree did all the heavy lifting," said Diamond. To reach inland areas, the fur traders had to go through Rupert House, where the Cree men collected supplies like sugar and flour. They would then transport these goods to Nemaska Post and Mistissini, something they did for a long time in the early 1900s, according to Diamond. He said he's looking forward to hearing about the expedition group's experiences this spring and summer. "It's not an easy trip…there is going to be some hardship, but they seem to be so ready. I hope that they will be successful," said Diamond. He also hopes the exchange is mutual — that the paddlers will take back not only memories but a deeper understanding of the land and its people. "We should learn from each other. I'm sure that these paddlers are gonna learn quite a bit about our history as they paddle down," said Diamond, adding that tea, bannock and berry jam will await them when the brigade arrives in Waskaganish. The terrain is very different from what it was 200 years ago, according to Forest. He anticipates that the most challenging parts of the journey will be the waves of cold salt water from James Bay and winds strong enough to halt the group. Additionally, powerful upstream currents may force the team to portage instead. Since some portage trails no longer exist, the team will need to cut down trees along the way. "I see an expedition as a choreography. When you are in the expedition, you just accomplish what was planned and deal with the things that were not programmed," said Forest. The team will invite community members to a day of activities during their stopovers. Children and youth can try out canoes, test portage gear, and learn about the old fur trade routes. "We always hope that people from different communities will come to join us and share their stories. We bring what we have, but we want to learn from people there too," said Forest. "We will be able to learn all about this long history that the Cree Nation has with the canoes, brigades and nomadic travels." Forest expects it will be a "changing experience" for the paddlers.
CBC
6 days ago
- General
- CBC
Cree rider travels coast to coast, visiting Indigenous communities along the way
Cree motorcyclist Paul John Murdoch mapped his route through First Nations What started as a personal adventure during goose break — a spring holiday in many Cree communities — turned into something more revealing for Cree motorcyclist Paul John Murdoch. Murdoch recently finished making his way across Canada on his motorcycle. He started in Newfoundland, heading west, stopping in Indigenous communities along the way. "Meeting people along that way, people don't look at our communities as destinations," said Murdoch, who grew up in Wemindji and Waskaganish. As Murdoch cruised across provinces, often alone on the highway, fellow travellers would pull up beside him or strike up conversations at gas stations and rest stops. "I'd stopped and other motorcycle people and tourists would ask, 'Where are you going?' And I would tell them, 'Newfoundland to B.C.,'" Murdoch said. These conversations usually came with suggestions for must-see landmarks. "They say, 'You have to visit this national park,' or 'You have to go see the big spoon or the big axe or whatever,'" he said — but seeing roadside attractions or parks wasn't his reason for the trip. "I'd tell them that I'm only going to Indigenous communities." That answer often caught people off guard. "There'd always be this pregnant pause, like, 'why?'" Murdoch said. Charting his course The reasons, for him, are rooted in both his personal history and a broader cultural reconnection. "I was born and raised in Quebec, but it's the first time I went to Kanesatake or Kahnawake. I said, 'My God, this is beautiful — why didn't I come visit earlier?'" he said. To chart his course, Murdoch began by downloading government maps that showed reserve lands and Indigenous territories. The reality on the road didn't quite match up. "Even with those maps, I'd be riding along and all of a sudden a sign would pop up that there's a First Nation community there that's not even on anybody's map," said Murdoch. This invisibility extended to travel planning, too. Few Indigenous communities had obvious accommodations for visitors. "The plan was a little bit hard because we don't look at ourselves as destinations and people don't treat us like destinations," he said. Murdoch's thinking echoes the work of Dr. Margaret Wickens Pearce, a cartographer who reimagined Canada's geography through a decolonial lens. Pearce created a map of Canada with no borders — with only highways and Indigenous place names. Murdoch came across her map while preparing for the trip and found it moving. "I don't think she meant it to be used as a roadmap. The more I looked at it, I felt it was a piece of art … it looked like a painting," said Murdoch. A long, fulfilling ride For Murdoch, the idea of moving across land in this way felt deeply cultural, even ancestral. "I think our people and our culture are just naturally predisposed to this kind of travel." Still, the physical toll of the ride was real. "I was trying to average between 5 to 600 kilometres a day, but it's funny how the weather, the landscape — you know, 500 kilometres in one day can take four to five hours," said Murdoch. Other times, 300 kilometres could take seven hours. Murdoch estimates that he has visited at least 50 Indigenous communities over 19 days. The only change he would make is allowing his body to recover — and allow more time to connect with locals. Image | PJ Murdoch and family Caption: Murdoch, alongside his family before his day of departure. His wife followed him by car in the final 3 hours of his journey to Tla-O-Qui-Aht First Nation, BC. (submitted by Paul John Murdoch) Open Image in New Tab "In an ideal world, I would have maybe tripled the time so that when I arrived in each community, I would spend one whole day just hanging out with the community before leaving," he said. "I think my ass would be a lot more thankful for having done it that way." He has ideas to plan a longer trip with friends next goose break: instead of going from east to west, he wants to travel north to south. "Why not north? Like from Alaska to Arizona, staying only in Indigenous communities," said Murdoch. Murdoch encourages people to obtain their licence to explore their sense of freedom. "It's the closest thing to flying the plane that I've experienced so far," said Murdoch. Upon arriving in British Columbia, the final leg of his cross-country road trip, Murdoch expressed that he felt more emotional than he had expected. "If you can dream it up and do it, it's not going to be exactly like your dream probably, but man, it's gonna be wonderful. You'll never regret it," said Murdoch.
CBC
23-05-2025
- General
- CBC
Learning Cree helps this dental hygienist connect with and treat her patients
A non-Indigenous dental hygienist in the northern Quebec community of Waskaganish is learning Cree in an effort to communicate more effectively with the people she serves. For the past six years, Camille Poirier has been filling her notebook with Cree words, sentences, and phrases. "I think that makes a difference because they know that you're there for many reasons, not only for work, but also to connect," said Poirier, who is originally from the Gatineau, Que. and Rockland, Ont. area. Poirier began working in Waskaganish after graduating from university. What was intended to be a temporary position became a new home for Poirier and her family. "I wanted to connect more with the patient like, and I find that with the language you can connect with the person because they understand you better," said Poirier. At the daycare, Poirier found that most children spoke Cree and the same with her teenage patients, leaving her to often rely on translation. "When I asked them a question in English, they always asked their parents in Cree. So I was like, I want to ask them so they can answer me," she said. Communication is not the only goal Poirier had. "So I was like, OK, how could I make them have more trust in me?" said Poirier. "So I started to learn a few key words. First I learned apaa st'uin so to open their mouth, chipaah st'uin, close your mouth and I would say akaawii aahchii, dont move, or brushoo chiitihpit anchiish, did you brush your teeth today?" Learning Cree also helped her connect with those around her. "The staff at the dental clinic were speaking together, laughing, and I wanted to laugh with them, I wanted to know what they were saying," said Poirier. Having learned Cree, Poirier can now understand and participate in her colleagues' conversations and laughter. "So now I'm always saying them. 'Be careful. I understand'," she said. Poirier is not the only one learning to speak Cree, her two-year-old daughter is picking up the language with her peers in daycare. "She speaks to me like ' aashtam, aashtam mommy' and she say ' namui ' when I ask her to do something," said Poirier. Aashtam means come here, which contrasts with the toddler's current favorite word, namui, which means no. Her toddler now recites her daycare snack time prayer at home before supper, among other phrases she has learned. Having lived in Waskaganish for nearly seven years, Poirier now considers it home. She actively engages in community traditions such as goose plucking and fishing, and she crafted her first pair of moose hide moccasins there. "I feel like I'm part of the community, and I feel accepted. I'm really happy about it because I really wanted to be here," said Poirier. She said she is still learning and wishes to continue expanding her knowledge, even beyond the pages of her book. "I cannot say that I'm fluent in Cree, but I would say that I manage," she said. "I want my book to be full."
