“My strength comes not from one source
But from thousands, from my ancestors”
– Two Houses Half Buried in the Sand
I was fortunate enough to be invited by Lummi Nation Carver, Felix Solomon, to his home last month, where he led a canoe steaming ceremony. I came away with a real appreciation for how much work and heart goes into the process. I also learned and now understand better the struggle Natives also have to stay connected to the past. We read about our history in books or see it dramatized in movies, but we can’t really experience it. The Salish people can actually live their past and at least partially experience their lives in a traditional fashion, because they still live on the land and travel the waters of their ancestors going back 9,000 years. The canoe ceremony is one such tradition that happened all over the Salish Sea. Steam pits can even be found to this day at Lily Point.
A traditional canoe ceremony had not been practiced in over 100 years, and so I didn’t feel too bad that I had no idea what a “steaming” was. As soon as I arrived though, the expression on Felix’s face told me it was a big deal. There was a 20-foot long shovel nose canoe that had been carved out from a log over the last six months, with two large fire pits set 10 feet away on either side ready to be lit. The canoe was half full of water — hot rocks were then put into the water to create steam that slowly pushed the side walls of the canoe out.
The whole process took 12 hours, and so I had a chance to talk to most everyone there. I introduced myself to Bill James, the Cultural Chief of the Lummi Nation, and we talked about the Lily Point Ceremony two years ago. Bill then told me about a book that he wanted me to read, “Two Houses Half Buried In the Sand”, by Beryl Mildred Cryer. We had been talking about saving Lily Point, and how all of us struggle to pass on traditions to the children. This book was a collection of old Coastal Salish oral traditions.
When I first got the book, I realized why Bill was so keen on me reading it. The title of “Two Houses” was chosen to reflect many things, and Bill also knows that Lily Point is symbolic of many things. Lily Point is where even we colonists can experience nature the way my great grandfather did when he was stationed at the Point’s army outpost in the late 1900’s. I also try to imagine how life was for the Lummi people thousands of years before that. Lily Point is also symbolic of the conflict between a past way of life and the present day pain of borders and institutions that have separated all of us for over 150 years.
“Two Houses” refers to a notion of multiple families with connections to families all over the Salish Sea. It also is a metaphor for two peoples — the predominately white and British newcomers, and the indigenous population who found their lands and resources quickly overrun and dispossessed by the newcomers. The book’s author didn’t fully understand everything she was told, as she was an outsider; however, the elders came to trust her to help the newcomers emerge from their colonist mindset, one half buried by ignorance.
I had told Bill something similar by comparing our attitude of taking over the land to a teenager who doesn’t want to listen to anyone, and has already made up their mind on the right way to go, until later when things fall apart, and then the teen thinks, “I should have listened.” When you look at the state of the Salish Sea today, to say we are only half buried by ignorance may actually be a compliment, for we are clearly more than half buried by ignorance, greed, and a growing population that has swelled to 9 million people. The residents of Point Roberts and their natural resources have been periodically overrun and dispossessed by outsiders as well, starting with the Alaska Packers back in the 1880’s.
Like a totem pole or a canoe that Felix would carve, the natural lands around the Point have been slowly whittled down to where now half of Lily Point, our most sacred ground, is about to be lost to more homes and empty lots. I can now stand on the bluff and feel like the Lummi must have felt so many years ago when we took their land. It’s not a good feeling, or something I can even put in words. It sparks an inner anger and regret with no means of release. In Bill’s wisdom I think he was trying to tell me that the key to the future was getting reconnected to not just my past, but to the long history of all peoples of Lily Point.
Pier pilings at Lily Point are also half buried in the sand, and it’s taken me over 50 years to learn the true history of those pilings. The old pier pilings at the end of Gulf Road, half buried in water, are the last remnants of the pier and fishing industry that built it, in a time when settlers actually lived off the land. Everything one needed was right here.
Living off the land in Point Roberts these days has been reduced to real estate revenue. But like the fishing industry that didn’t protect their resources and died off, the Point is dying a slow incremental death as developers hack away at the reason people live here in the first place. The Marketplace once employed 72 people, but now has been reduced to a staff of 12. Since 911 the border has choked off most people’s desire to visit our shores, and even local businesses struggle to keep employees.
Instead of reversing these trends or making plans to improve the situation, our government only trivializes the spending of our tax dollars on border agents to make sure we don’t bring in “contraband” such as tomatoes, apples, and the occasional lamb chop. They scan our passports so their databases can be filled with useless information about our travels to Canada to buy all the things not available to us in Point Roberts.
Again I feel the pain of the Lummi, who once were free to travel all the Salish Sea until borders and land speculators forced them onto a reservation. We too are political prisoners that have our freedom restricted to our little five square mile cell. The salmon are gone, the crabbing season is down to 10 days a year, the water is polluted, and every day we get pelted with coal dust from the Delta Port.
Insanity was defined by Einstein as “doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.” The people of Point Roberts are not insane and there is a movement underway to bring back a more connected community and to once again live off the land and protect our resources. Eco-tourism, community gardens, bringing in the scientific community, and moving towards self-reliance is catching on with more and more people.
McLellen Farm and Settlers Road are being seen in a different light, with a new sense of value and appreciation for our ancestors and how they lived. The old farm house on the bluff, previously written off as useless, is now being recognized for its historical value and the way of life it represents, a freedom that we didn’t even know we lost. This freedom and the natural wonders of the Salish Sea has slowly been degraded over the last 155 years since we received this land.
I don’t have oral stories passed down from my great grandfather about the old days. I only have some old pictures and childhood memories accented with the music of the Beatles, who filled up the little transistor radio that was held to my ear while walking along the Lily Point sandbar. Like the pier pilings at Lily Point, the Beatles music reminds me of simpler times and the sense of freedom that was only restricted by the incoming tide and the setting sun.
So as you watch the simple little video I threw together, you’ll see my tribute to children wandering free around Lily Point with the song, “There’s a Place,” and then listen to Sheri Williams and Smitty Hillaire talk about the history of Point Roberts through the spirit and passion of the Lummi Nation and a way of life and respect for nature that we have lost. I conclude the video with John Lennon’s “Nowhere Man,” which brings us full circle to facing the crossroad we find ourselves standing at today. For me the crossroad options are for us to keep following “nowhere plans for nobody,” or to pull our heads out of the sand and embrace self-reliance and a way of life that brought people to the Point in the first place.
Lily Point is indeed calling to us to respect the spirit that resides there, and I thank Bill James for helping me see that we need to stay connected to our past, and to the Lummi people who so graciously share their love of nature and a true connection to the land. The canoe steaming showed all of us the power of shared experiences and the bonds and connections that come about from giving of ourselves to the greater good. Thank you Felix, and congratulations on your success in bringing a lost art back to life.
So as Lennon’s voice echoes from his grave, and the Beatles grainy black and white images conjure up our past… I hope that this refrain can still strike a chord in our hearts… “Nowhere man, please listen… you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Settlers Road from Alexander Stratford on Vimeo.
A quick montage of Lily Point, and the origins of Point Roberts and traditions of the Lummi Nation