The Ferry to Bella Bella


Another writer and I were sort of trading things back and forth a while back.  This trip Ellen, Cheri and I made up the Inland Passage of Canada came to mind.  Cheri was still in high school then I think.....


The Ferry to Bella Bella

I know not the name of the Canadian ferry we rode between Port Hardy and Prince Rupert.  I know not even the year.  I do know that we had to put in at Bella Bella a first nations village on the Inland Passage.  A First Nations person or native indian explained to me as we stood leaning on the rail of the ship watching the world go by.  We for some reason came together there on the rail he a little older than I and we spent hours talking about his world of logging and fishing, and mine as a locomotive engineer,  livestock and ranch.  Exchanging our worlds as we talked, we pointed out eagles and osprey.  Seals and what might be an orca now and then to each other.  He explained Bella Bella was only a flag stop on the route up and down the Inland Passage.  Meaning if there were passengers or freight for there they  would put in.  I do not think at the time there was a place to off load autos.  Little reason as there are no real roads into nor out of Bella Bella from what he told me.  In fact it is on an island.  Campbell Island I found out later.

As the ferry put into the dock we were greeted by one of the most wonderful adventures I have ever over looked.  On the dock there was a huge metal stair way sitting there on the dock.   The back ground was village and Canadian Pacific green.  The foreground was not ground but  rather inland passage water.  Though I am sure there was play ground equipment some where at a school or park in the village however this was the happening at the moment place for the kids.  After all the big ferry was  coming to town, momma or dad or aunts or uncles, may be grandmother from Victoria would be getting off.  Indian children were hanging off the stairway.  Some hung up side down knees locked around pipes and iron supports.  Looking at the world up side down.  Coats and sweater and shirts hung down over there heads as they looked at the upside down wold.  Shouting and waving at us as we approached.  Some of the most daring boys and a girl or two climbed high up underneath almost to the top.

Dogs that had apparently accompanied the children and the adults to the dock were backing excitedly.   Some too excitedly for some of the other dogs and soon several dog fights started on the dock as if by command.  No one seemed overly concerned about the dog fights and the dogs seemed to be able too by nature sort out  their differences very well on their own.  With a few sharp bites and tugs and growls, yollows and whimpers it was all over with.  No one came running to defend their dog.  If any were really their dogs or they might belong to the village.  Dogs might like it as well when the ferry comes to town.  This seemed to be a raw real world.  One where one lived only because you were able to live life there.

Amid the kids waving and laughing, a few adults standing around chatting and the dogs barking and fighting.  A 1978 or so Ford pickup made its appearance.  You could only tell that this was a 1978 Ford pickup because of the general out line of rust.  It was rusted through in more spots than it seemed to be held together with.   Slowly it drove up to the stairway and the kids shimmied and slid down off the stairway with the expertise of a high steel worker or firemen coming down a fire-pole.  They mostly hid from the driver.  He was shouting something at them in some tongue we could not understand.  He got out of the rusty pick up he seemed to be the boss.  He too was First Nations as were the deck hands.  They wore jackets or uniforms from the Canadian Ferry Line I guess to look official.  No one seemed all that impressed and more a job requirement.     

Ropes were heaved to the dock from the ferry.   After tying the ferry off to the dock, the deckhands all joined together in the ritual of shoving the huge metal stairway to the boat.  And the pilgrimage ended for some.  As a few men and ladies all seemed to be First Nations People or indians where I am from.  They made their way down the stairs.  Most carried boxes.  Kids and adults were shouting and waving at friends and relatives as they made their way down the huge stairway.  On the dock there were kisses and hugs and handshakes and nods and grins.  There was a ocean going  kayak expedition that off loaded as well.  Brightly colored yellow kayaks and fancy bags and grips and water-tights and dry boxes and on and on was carried down the stairs.  They so looked out of place in this place.  A place of wool mackinaws, blue jeans and stout leather work boots.  It was a place of fishing clothes and rubber boots.  Not plastic boats and synthetic carry ons.  It was a place where people lived in nature as part of it.  It hardly seemed to be a place to be attended for a week or two by outsiders.  Their presence there almost seemed to profane the place.   It was a place that nature begrudgingly let the hardy stay and let a few really live there.   

When all the ceremonial colonial off loading from the sea going expedition was accomplished.  Then the pilgrimage started for others up to Prince Rupert.  All carrying boxes tied with rope, there seemed to be an absence of American Touristor luggage, soft sides, or rollabouts.  This was real travel in the real world for these people.  A place you left only if you have to.  It was Sunkist Navel Orange boxes from Florida and Ruby Red Grapefruit boxes from Texas, it was apple boxes from Winanachee. Washington.  All tied  with rope.  Half inch hemp or line from a fishing boat, or twine from some ones unpacking.    How many wives here would even think of going some where, anywhere without at least a matching set of Costco soft sides?  Oh the embarrassment here in the states if men were seeing their women off and women were seeing their men off with Sunkist Orange and Grapefruit boxes.

The lines soon were hauled in, huge doors on the ship slid shut and we were started to pull away from the dock.  I could not take my eyes of this picture of real kids, and real people and their real world.  Then suddenly something else started to unfold on the dock.  The rusty pick up as starting to leave and drive back up the dock to the island.  The kayak expedition was still taking up most of the dock.  One had its bow or stern turned to the pickup.  Hard to tell kayaks especially when you do not know them.    The pick up ran over the projecting kayak and just kept right on going.  Someone from the expedition now was running after the pickup as hard as he could run, shouting and waving his fist.  The pick up never deviated its speed but clearly was winning the foot race....

I have often wondered the outcome of that accident.  Do kids still climb and hang from the stairs at Bella Bella?  Do dogs still fight on the docks?   Does drugs and alcohol take it tole on the First Nations peoples in Bella Bella as it does across this whole continent and the countries with-in?  Or are they lucky enough to have missed it?  I do not know what the soul connection was to Bella Bella that day.  I do know I would not fit there if I were to return.  I am not a First Nations person.  But oh how it stuck to me.  Stuck deep in my heart.  Oh how at times have I wanted to return?  Something in me wants to get off that ship in my work boots, blue jeans, flannel shirt and a wool mackinaw, pull a wool cap watch cap down over my head and yes carrying a Sunkist Grapefruit box on my shoulder.

I step on that dock turn and walk up the dock to the streets and roads of Bella Bella.  I nod politely at the ladies, stop and joke with the kids and teens.  Talk to the men asking about their families.  You still married?   How was the hunt?  The catch - what is running?  No halibut; still early yet; yes?   Your working in the timber where?  Wow your are lucky fellow, thats good job!  Man hang on to it!  You here for just your days off?   When you due to be back?  How are the kids?  Any chance we play some cards and drink some coffee?  When the Sockeye return this year we go fishing then okay?  Any crab jobs on up the coast?  Early winter?  Damn chilly wind for now!

Yep!!  Damn chilly wind for now!