Jottings West, Day 10

March 25th, Cascadia 

Every traveler needs a rest. I don't mean the type you get in a hotel room or one of those road-side truck stops, where darkness and tired eyes puts consciousness to a close. What I needed, before embarking again through the inner depths of Cascadia, was a conscious replenishment. Before leaving Grand Forks, British Columbia, I took a seat alongside the southeast-flowing Kettle River, dimmed my eyes, and took in the waves of beaming sunlight, in all of its Glory.

{The Kettle is a tributary to the Columbia River}

There is much talk in the world today about contemporary borders being obsolete, a by-product of an older world, where supposed 'backwards thinking' reigned supreme. Remarkably, this rhetoric is spewed by individuals across the political spectrum: from Marxists who envision a global proletariat state (“no war but a class war”), Liberals and Neo-Conservatives who wish to break down trade barriers (see: The Merger of the Century),  and even US President Donald Trump, who called the 49th parallel and "arbitrarily drawn line” during a press conference last year. This, however, not only ignores regional differences in culture and way of life, but also disregards geographic barriers, which have served as natural dividing lines between human groups since time immemorial. 

It must be said, the US President is correct that the 49th parallel was, in a sense, ‘arbitrary’ , in so far as it lacked geographic coherence, and was instead a compromise made between two empires in different phases of their development, after almost 30 years of joint occupancy of the Pacific Northwest. However, if borders of the pre-modern era are examined (pre-modernism being defined here as, let’s say, pre-1838, before railway, steamship and telegraphy technology revolutionized travel and communication speeds and prices, making it possible to bypass previous constraints), it is clear that river systems, mountain ranges, swamps, deserts, and badlands typically separated distinct tribes, cultures or empires, mutually agreeing upon these barriers as a middle ground. The reason this practice is so common is because crossing over en masse poses great logistical challenges. Furthermore, running and maintaining supply lines through the barrier for a prolonged period of time, prior to the railroad, was very difficult. A famous example comes from the Roman frontier, in which the Rhine River separated the empire from the Germanic barbarians for centuries. During one winter, at the beginning of the cataclysmic 5th century invasions which (arguably) destroyed the Western Roman empire, the Rhine froze, eliminating the river as a barrier, consequently giving the Germanic peoples the chance they had long been waiting for. Safe to say, they took advantage. 

All this to say that borders - even in our era - are not entirely without purpose or signification. One of the greatest Canadian academics to ever exist (in my opinion) devoted his early career to this very intersection between geography, history, and politics, in a Canadian context. Harold Innis wrote many books, essays and academic papers that explained how geographic features shaped Canadian economic development and expansion within various industries, works such as ‘The Fur Trade in Canada’, ‘The History of the Canadian Pacific Railway’, and ‘Essays in Canadian Economic History’. The understood boundary between the Northwest (NWC) and Hudson’s Bay Company (HBC) spheres of enterprise, for example, was the watershed divide between the Arctic and Hudson’s Bay drainage basins. In 1821, the British government monopolized the fur trade, and merged the companies together, putting an end to years of proxy and direct warfare. 

{Between the red and blue line, the NWC legal territory; between blue and green, HBC}

Because we have access to trains, planes, automobiles and the internet today, it is easy to tune out the power of earthly systems such as drainage basins and the directional flow of water. For the original European inhabitants of the Pacific Northwest region, however, they were impossible to ignore. In the mid-19th century, the Oregon territory was so remote, and so difficult for settlers on the ground to communicate with either American or British authorities, that many prominent leaders such as John McLoughlin believed the region should be its own sovereign state.   

{Source for this incredibly made map}

So began what is today known as the Cascadia movement, devoted to the cause of independence for this bio-region. They have a flag. There is even a Cascadia institute. 

While I can understand the sentiments of such a naturalistic political movement, I can still nonetheless see the pragmatism and charm of the original vision for Canada: a country that, utilizing the possibilities of modern technology, connects regions vastly different from one another, in the hope that each can mutually realize each others advantages. It has taken the experience of these westward travels for me to fully understand the beauty in the statement: Canada is a country of regions. In fact, our country's name would perhaps be more coherent and truthful if it was styled something along the lines of:

The Loyal United Provinces of Canada

Dreams aside, any serious conversation about land and sovereignty in Canada will eventually confront the question of Indian/Indigenous treaties, rights, and land claims. The Cowichan decision is a well known crisis in contemporary Canadian politics, in which historic land claims could legally put private property at risk. Fundamentally, there is a clash occurring between the English legal tradition of property rights, and the traditions of peoples native to the region, which were based on natural boundaries and migration cycles rather than prescribed lots and tenures. In opposition to British-Canadian control, some advocates in British Columbia wish to go beyond the legal system, and give the “land back” to those inhabiting it prior to European settlement.

{'Land Back' graffiti drawn at the top of the Tunnel}

While I was reading the graffiti writing, I noticed a plaque near the stone structure. Looking for copper, the Canadian Pacific Railway built the ‘Greenwood Road Tunnel’ as part of the rail line into the Boundary Creek region.

If the “tunnel of flags” serves as a “symbol of the connection between the world of today and the very different world of yesterday”, then what does the graffiti painted over their fading images symbolize?

I then visited a place which in some ways represents the opposite sentimentality to those associated with the ‘land back’ movement: a Logging Museum.

‘Rosetta’ (the name of my anthropomorphic Dodge Caravan) had to travel deep into the muddy woods in order to get to the Son Ranch Logging Museum, but once she did, we were both satisfied.

Two big dogs greeted me when I entered, alongside an older woman. She was the matriarch, looking after many aspects of the family business, encompassing the managing of wood lots, logging, milling, artisan crafts, and the museum. 

Back on highway 3, I eventually arrived at the edge of a valley, where I discovered from up high that I had arrived at the town of Osoyoos. 

{Osoyoos from up high}

What power a bird's eye view imparts on the onlooker! No wonder it is, beyond reasons of self defense, that aristocracies and elites have always preferred to live on high ground. There is a sense of control, a sense of totality, a sense of ‘seeing the big picture’, that one gets from this vantage point. A society, and its ecosystem, can be seen as an integrated unit from up here. No digital map can replicate this real world feeling. 

From below too, Osoyoos was unique, resembling California or even Mexico in many respects.

Finally, I made my final push west. I did not know where I was going to end up exactly this evening. All I knew was, I wanted to reach the Fraser Valley. 

Snowing once more, I thought about calling it an early night. But then, I saw in the westward distance…

Light! 

{Taken near Hope, BC}

I am now firmly tucked away in the valley, ready for a timely descent on Vancouver, tomorrow morning.