Discovery Passage

By Robin Fitzgerald

The places described here are real, as are the Legends told in this tale of many cultures. Its more than just a sailing adventure where a spirited young couple share insights of the heart. Visit time periods of the past to reveal what we are hearing, seeing, and feeling today. Find some answers to the strange sounds and the giant green spiral over Norway, by learning of the Kwakuitl Peoples winter ceremonials that hold the secrets of our beginnings, and what we need to know about the present day. There is a shift coming, but to understand it you have to savour this book. Let it tell the story at a pace that anyone can absorb.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 18, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469110493

Robin Fitzgerald

Bio: Robin Fitzgerald is an explorer who writes for Nature Magazines using his own photography to get published. His PR work for the Butterfly Enthusiasts Club has led to 7 Habitats to date. His quarterly Newsletter helped create the longest running colony of a butterfly species in Canada. During his Walks and Talks he encourages people to include the right plants in their gardens. His book on butterfly hunting is full of places to start. He includes sketches in his books, as well as being the photographer for them. Robin lives with his loving wife of more than 25 years, Tracey, in Nanaimo, BC. For a list of upcoming Talks, email me at: [e-mail] R. Fitzg. Lepidopterist.

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Copyright © 2012 by Robin Fitzgerald.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

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Contents

PART ONE

THE SLY FOX

Chapter 1   The Journey

Chapter 2   Village Island

Chapter 3   A new world for the children

Chapter 4   Are you Alfred?

Chapter 5   The Church

Chapter 6   The College

Chapter 7   The night of the Owl

Chapter 8   The Shamans Request

Chapter 9   Stramberg Lake

Chapter 10   The little Longhouse

Chapter 11   Up the Coast

Chapter 12   Bliss Landing

Chapter 13   The Blind Trail

Chapter 14   The Avid Archeologist

Chapter 15   Shimira’s School

Chapter 16   The Madams’ Manor

Chapter 17   The Reconstruction

Chapter 18   The Dig

Chapter 19   The New Dawn

Chapter 20   A Meeting of Minds

PART TWO

THE VORTEX

Chapter 21   The Egg Islands

Chapter 22   In between the Tides

Chapter 23   I must not look!

Chapter 24   A gathering of stones

Chapter 25   Naida over the Namgis

Chapter 26   Down the Paths of Copper

Chapter 27   The Call of the Raven

Chapter 28   Where the Real Winds are

Chapter 29   An Underwater Buffet

Chapter 30   The Walls of Agate

Chapter 31   The Return Visit

Glossary of Terms

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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‘We must protect this land we did not inherit from our fathers, but are only borrowing from our children.’ – Traditional teachings of Native American Elders.

I dedicate this book to the contribution that ethnologists Frank Boas and George Hunt made in the forming of roads between nations. Their dedication to detail joined two completely different peoples, paving the way for all of us who live on the West Coast of Canada today.

PART ONE

THE SLY FOX

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CHAPTER 1

The Journey

The sky was opening ever wider as the two adventurers rose to greet the day. The first day of Robert and Rani’s freedom from the city, expanding to a new horizon they had both been longing for. She had finished her term at the Buddhist Temple in North Vancouver, and he had been refitting the small sailing ship for months at False Creek.

It was all mast and rigging, the ‘Tisra-Til’, a 34-foot rum runner from the 30’s. Built low to the water to avoid detection during prohibition, she now stood tall with a 41’ wooden mast draped in oversized turnbuckles, and with a gaff rig. She was a pirate ship from the past at first sight, but with a renewed future ahead of her.

He heard a fish boat start its engine two tiers away, and jumped onto the wharf. The first steps of the journey took him there, to get the attention of the skipper. Hello! he shouted over the grind of the gillnetters’ engine, warming up. I wonder if you could give us a tow out to English Bay? The fisherman kept his earphones on, but after a moment he spoke. I suppose so, where are you? Robert pointed saying, We’re just over there, I pulled it to the end of the second pier. All he did was shake his head and go below, but then he reappeared gesturing for the bowline to be untied. Robert ran back to give Rani the news that soon, they’d be on their way.

It was the early 1980’s, but it felt more like the 1890’s, to the travelers, without the use of an engine. The ship had a 25 horsepower 4-cylinder Renault, but no one so far had managed to repair it, so the plan was to visit a friend living in Campbell River, who said he was up to the challenge. So that was the plan, if there was any plan at all.

Rani wrapped her sari tight around her slim shoulders as they passed through the narrow gap under the swing bridge for rail traffic.

Being undertow to begin an entire summer of sailing had her feeling somewhat fragile, she had never been to sea before. Robert readied the sails to catch the early morning breeze as the skipper of the gillnetter appeared on deck. He had already slowed and was pulling his towrope aboard. Within minutes they were under way, Rani reluctantly took the tiller, while Robert cast off the heavy line, her eyes as big as saucers as the ‘Tis’ leapt forward under her own power, for the first time in 2 years.

Soon after the excitement of moving the 10.000 – pound keel through the gentle waves had calmed, she managed to speak. Am I headed the right way? He promptly answered, Whatever fills the sail dear, that’s good enough for now. She lifted her gaze to the mainsail and by instinct corrected the course. He did have some idea where they were headed, after spending time as a boom man at Robson Bight, the seas north of Broken Islands were beaconing him to explore one of the more remote areas of B.C.

He hoisted the large jenny that started at the end of an 8-foot bow-sprit, and stretched it to the top of the mast. As he tightened the sheet, Rani had to take hold of the tiller with both hands, now they were sailing, and the Strait of Georgia was theirs to command.

She had sailed before as a young girl in Goa, India, but said she couldn’t remember any of it. He knew it would come back to her soon enough, and her face was beaming as he shouted, It’s time to come about, you ready? Like a pro she ducked her head, and avoided over steering the responsive vessel. He handled the jib sheets and the young couple, without discussing it, had worked out their own roles to this wind and water ballet.

Evening found them off Texada Island in dead calm seas, perfect for fixing dinner. As the dark descended a light breeze took them into a small anchorage for the night. They fell into each others arms, exhausted after their first day. Theirs was a love affair that had to withstand some pressure, her father was never quite sure of young Robert, though he had helped out at the Temple.

Her mother, who was strictly of the Hindu faith, had been the one to raise Rani. It was not until her teens that she joined her father in his new frontier where devout Buddhists were almost non-existent.

The two religions were miles apart, leaving her somewhere in the middle, but after a few years with her father Shangara, she had become one of his latest converts. It was difficult for the man to accept that his 24-year old daughter was going to head out of the harbor with a part time shipwright only a year older. He also had to swallow that they really had no particular destination in mind. And that was the way the two of them had wanted it, from the start.

For the next few days the mornings’ southeasterly had left them stalled, almost exposed to whatever might blow up next. Though they sat in the stillness, there was a lot of apprehension that built up eventually. So Robert got out his trusty Fender guitar and breathed some life into the moment with one of his sailing songs…

"Oh tell me when will the wind arrive,

Oh when will the wind arrive.

Take me on my journey,

Or maybe just take me for a ride.

Now the clouds they are appearing,

Over the water with a quake.

Will she be my mistress,

Or will she be my last mistake.

Oh look what the wind has done to me,

I’m not in the same place I used to be.

I’ll wake up from a long sleep,

Just to find myself in a calm sea."

Rani slung back her long ebony hair, and nestled up to him as if someone else might hear her, even though there was nothing but ocean surrounding them.

"You know, I’m beginning to understand the teachings of Siddhartha, the young Buddha. I can wait, I can fast, I can think, this waiting around for something to happen has been testing me."

He smiled at her and said, "The path to enlightenment begins with the self, you have to feel you can get through anything to get on that path, I think that’s what he meant."

Just then a lone all black whale surfaced only an arms length from the hull. It shot out a spray of seawater that danced on well above them, then gracefully disappeared into the depths. Did you see that! she yelped, not knowing if she should be scared, or amazed the event happened so quickly.

That was a pilot whale honey, nothing to be frightened of, he probably heard the guitar and wanted to check it out. Or it could be he visits all the boats out here looking for handouts from the fishermen. His explanation sufficed, and the two of them sat there in the cockpit, just absorbing the silence of the afternoon for a while.

Before long a soft wind took them into Harriot Bay, on Quadra Island, where they anchored and rowed ashore. Taking the advice of a powerboat captain they accepted a tow around the dangerous waters to the docks of Campbell River. That was it, he had had enough of relying on others, and sought out his childhood friend Tom Pellerin, who had become a heavy-duty mechanic straight out of high school.

Tom wasn’t much for small talk and went right to the engine that no one else could figure out. He turned it over a few times, until the familiar backfiring occurred. It’s OK buddy, I’ve got this one. He said, and began to loosen the bolt that held the distributor in place.

With much concern Robert blurted out, What are you doing, you’ll lose the timing! He ignored his long time friend and pulled the distributor shaft out, turned it 180 degrees, and dropped it back in. With complete confidence he pulled out his timing meter and got Robert to turn it over again. Without hesitation it started right up, as if nothing had ever been wrong with it.

That was it alright, the last person to work on it never knew you could get this wrong, I’ll have her steady in a minute here. Robert couldn’t believe his luck, without costing him a dime they were powered up again, the little inboard was purring like a kitten. Now it was possible to take on the formidable Johnstone Strait where wind and tide can force you backward in an alley only a mile wide in some places.

That evening was spent on the beach having an oyster bake with some friends of Tom’s, the fireside was perfect for bringing out the guitar again. As the sparks flew up into the air the entertainer and seafarer projected his voice out over the conversation like he was singing it for the other fire far down the beach, or to an audience no others could see…

We are the children of the open sea,

There’s no other place we’d rather be.

Offered up to nature completely,

Being lost gives you a certain release.

Such is a love for this ocean,

The sea you thought you knew so well.

Isn’t it just like that lady,

To show you heaven from hell.

There she lies on the evening tide,

Gently pulling on her anchor line.

Begging me, to set her free,

And feel the wind to-night.

Later he pulled Rani aside saying, Can’t you see this turns everything around. With one hand he pretended he was holding the distributor shaft, giving it the motion of turning it and dropping it back in place. Now we can read the charts at night, keep our mast light lit, use our running lamps, and most important, we can motor-sail! This was the only way the heavy vessel could possibly ‘tack’ into the wind in such a narrow waterway as Johnstone Strait.

The three bladed submarine prop was designed to do just that, the sails could lift the hull from the water, but it took the prop to propel it forward against the pumping wave action they were about to encounter.

She read the new-found confidence in her lovers eyes, and reached out to him. He took her soft and delicate hands in his while looking directly at her and said, I can wait. And instantly she answered, I can fast… if I have to. He answered back, "And I can think my way out of anything! Let’s do it, explore the upper reaches of Discovery Passage! We’ll turn off at Chatum Channel and enter a world of waterways that could take all summer to see!"

"Oh-h, yes, it’s like I’m a part of that ship now, I think it wants to go on an adventure! And I’m not going to be left behind! They laughed their way down the beach, both saying Ouch" at the same time when the guitar case accidently bumped into anything, as if it was a vessel of another kind.

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CHAPTER 2

Village Island

After a laundry day, and re-fueling, they had reached the spot where other boats were waiting for a chance to scoot over Ripple Rock, or at least the remains of it. At the turn of the century the top had been blown clean off this underwater menace after tunneling under it and packing it with more explosives than anyone had ever used before. Now mariners could navigate past it by catching the tide that takes you overtop of the roaring torrent, lurking below.

It was the entrance to Seymour Narrows, and he had just asked Rani to dig out the ‘bible’ for him. This was the key word for the tide book, and if you loose this book, in these parts, then you could be lost as well. The pages of charts and numbers made sense to him, but getting her to read them was going to take some encouraging. She had come so far, so fast, he wasn’t going to push it. I’ve got it right here. She shouted, coming out from the cabin, then after seeing all the other boats so close and softening her voice, she whispered, Will we have to wait long? He took a quick glance at the book then replied, Search me, I’m going to fit in somewhere in this row of ducks, and try to keep up, at least everyone else seems to know what they’re doing.

She gave him a sweet smile and flashed those dark hazel eyes right at him. She was his East Indian Princess all right, but something was coming. "Do you have a real bible with you Robert? You told my father you were a born-again Christian, but in the two years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you go to any church."

This was true, he believed that every living thing was a gift from Christ, but his way of communing with God was to climb up to a forgotten mountain meadow, and just sit and watch the movement of life within it.

Not really knowing how to answer this, he returned with, "Well actually, I’m thinking of starting my own religion, called ‘The Church of Ruth’. That would get her off topic for sure, he thought. Rani knew full well that he was referring to Ruth Montgomery, whose book he kept closer than the tide charts. It was called The World Before" and he was constantly reading aloud parts of it, and saying ‘Don’t you see! The whole thing makes sense to me now’ or, ‘How else did we get the legends of Pan, the Centaurs or the Minotaur.’ She let him continue on with the diversion, "It’s not really a Church, more like a simple belief that auto-ism is real, and that Mediums from the dawn of time have said the same thing, there are few other ways of channeling that get such direct results."

"So you’re taking the word of Arthur and the gang, to be the gospel truth now are you now? She curtly replied. Let me explain, he cut in, She wakes up with a dozen people waiting at the foot of her bed, after freshening up they coax her to the chair where she puts out her hands over the typewriter and lets Arthur take over. Then adding, It’s just like writings said to be done by someone else, but in the case of a medium, it’s intentional. She’s taking an enormous risk, opening herself up like that."

Rani threw her arms up in the air saying, "That’s enough teachings for me, look! The boats have moved out, let’s get going you nutcase." He started her up, and the three of them stepped into line, Robert, Rani, and the now proud Tisra-Til, from here on the scenery would be moving by much quicker, they would have to function as a unit.

Discovery Passage is breath taking, if you remember to breathe, but with every struggle comes reward. After two days of being battered about by a northwesterly, and dealing with her giant keel, where rouge bodies of water would lurch the entire ship sideways without warning, it was time for a rest. The sight of Minstrel Island in the distance took the tension out of every bone in their bodies, they could re-fuel, in more ways than one.

The tiny ‘all in one’ stop had a small bar, and they both gravitated toward it. During dinner they sat quietly thinking of how they were going to get things ship-shape below decks, well enough to continue.

Robert broke the silence first, You know, I never really gave you a straight answer to your question you had before we went up the ‘narrows. He went on with, I think you wanted to know what God has to do with my believing there’s a spirit world all around us. You’ve heard of the Son, the Father, and the Holy Ghost haven’t you? She gave a nod so he went on, "The ‘Holy Ghost’ that watches over me sent plenty of shivers down my shoulders over the last couple days. The fact we’re here right now is a testament to there being a spirit watching over us, and you are included."

He sighed, "To a medium this is the ‘Spirit Guide’, the same one of Native folklore, of Hindi legends, for any soothe-sayer for all time. She piped in with, So you are a Christian, but you want to become a medium, is that it? Half laughing he said, Oh no-o-o, not me, I haven’t half the guts of any of the mediums I’ve read about. Mostly it comes to them, none of the real ones ever go out looking for it, like in those old movies. I was talking about Ruth, it must have scared her half to death the first time she looked down and someone else was operating her fingers."

She knew that Ruth had retained her Christian faith throughout the story, having read the book. What she couldn’t understand was why somebody would read it over and over again.

The diner was done, she leaned across the table and said, "I think you might have forgotten something, this is Minstrel Island, after all. And went through the motions of strumming for everyone. With that she ducked out and returned with the guitar in one hand, holding it up, saying, OK everyone, I introduce to you, Robert Scott, with maybe enough energy for 3 songs!" The room gave out a spattering of laughs and he began with a ballad he wrote in the Caribbean simply called, ‘Sailing’ . . .

I’ve got to feel the wind rushing through my hair,

Step to the bow to catch the midnight air,

I’m part of her, she’s part of me,

I’m out there somewhere, just at sea.

We’ll make Martinique by mid-week,

Light airs at night, and your company.

Every minute used as we compete,

The wind’s the realest thing you’ll ever see.

The lyrics of the last verse were running through Rani’s head, it was true, she had begun to listen to the luff of the mainsail. To watch the strain of the jib sheet, every gust, every change had an instinctual action for her now, she had begun to see the wind.

That night he read again to her, this time from Ruth’s latest book, The Threshold to Tomorrow. It was only after Rani had asked, "Who was this Arthur anyways? Where did he come from?" Did he respond