BASECAMP | LITTLE EXPLORERS | BETCHA DIDN’T KNOW | GETAWAY | BUBBLE STREET Family Camping
RENDEZVOUS AT 1800 YEARS.
PHOTO: SCOTT MACGREGOR [ BASECAMP ] Time Traveler
A couple minutes from our home there’s a small lake with a muddy, weedy beach. The locals call it Leech Beach. There aren’t too many bloodsuckers really, but it’s a fun name that keeps tourists away— most of them. Which is why on this particular evening I made a point of introducing ourselves to the strangers. It was obvious even to the kids they weren’t from around here. Roy and Colleen told us they were in town for the Deer Run Ren-
dezvous. They said they’d be most honored if we were to drop by their camp. Tonight there was to be an axe throwing competition, a traditional native ceremony and campfire. They assured us we’d be welcome but we had to leave our truck parked at the fish and game clubhouse—we’d have to walk the last 200 meters back in time. A rendezvous was a big deal back in the day. A time for traders to
gather and barter supplies for furs with local tribes. Brigades of voya- geurs from the North West Company would arrive with gunpowder, knives, kettles and pots and collect cured skins and pelts. It was a business meeting, mostly. But like so many business meetings, it was a social gathering. There was dancing, singing, eating and fighting. After as long as two weeks, the brigades would return to their com- panies with their canoes full of cargo and the traders would return to their posts for the long, lonely winter. As parents, Tanya and I have learned the importance of routines, especially regular and early bedtimes. We’ve also learned that some- times it’s okay to bend the rules. I wasn’t exactly sure what we were
BREAKING THE RULES AT A TRADITIONAL RENDEZVOUS
walking into but I had a gut feeling it was worth staying up late. And there was no way we were going to show up in the mid-1800s wear- ing surf shorts and flip-flops. In eight minutes flat we were en route to the rendezvous in
thrown-together period dress. Doug went as a cowboy. Kate looked like she just walked off the set of Little House on the Prairie. On the way out the door I took one last look at my Francis Anne Hopkins Voyageurs at Dawn print and, for authenticity’s sake, grabbed a win- ter scarf for a sash. We were welcomed into camp with open arms and thick period
accents. Nobody expected us to actually show up, let alone be in cos- tume. That evening we nibbled on dried pemmican and flat bread. We sparked a fire with a flint and steel. We threw hatchets and we shot hand-carved arrows from homemade long bows. The kids dropped right into the role-play and soaked up the his-
tory. I’m sure they had learned more from that chance meeting of strangers than a week in school. After the traditional campfire ceremony, where Doug and Kate re-
ceived their native names, we said our goodbyes. By candlelight I car- ried a very sleepy Blue Jay Shooting Star and Princess Butterfly back to the truck, and back to the summer of 2012. I knew we’d awake tired and cranky, but, like all the rest at a rendezvous, we’d have the win- ter to rest and look forward to the next one. —Scott MacGregor is the founder and publisher of Rapid Media.
www.canoerootsmag.com 33
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