The Summer of Water
written by Coleen Hardisty
“Having all of you here has been a blessing.”
That was one of the last things Meta and Harold told us before we left Long Ago People’s Place and went off on our Wind River adventure. We ten Indigenous people from all different nations sat around the kitchen table in the cook shack, curling the vinyl tablecloth between our fingers.
With our hearts in our throats, and our eyes to the ceiling, fighting back tears, we said our see-you-laters and exchanged gifts and gratitude.
Long Ago People’s Place had been our home base for nearly a month, just outside of Champagne, Yukon Territory. The Yukon provided us with environments as demanding as they were stunningly beautiful. Inseparable from these places are the people. The Teetl'it Gwich'in. Champagne and Aishihik. Kwanlin Dün peoples - Southern Tutchone, Tagish and Tlingit. AndNa-Cho Nyäk Dun, to name a few. The project we had been working on was called Indigenous Youth River Guide Training, and everyone that we had the pleasure of meeting was indeed that- a guide. Our course instructors, Elders, Knowledge Keepers, facilitators, the literal river guides, and others. Each day, we were given endless gifts. Máhsicho Creator, for the sky and the Earth. For the minerals, the elements, the seasons, the plants, the fungi, and the animals. Máhsi for everything and everyone that came before me, and allowed me to be here today. In return, I will live the best life I can.
I was reminded recently that I am not any of the labels that have been assigned to me, or that I have assigned to myself. I am not my name, my First Nation, or any other part of my identity. I am not my thoughts, emotions, or my human experience. Who I am transcends the confines of Earth’s atmosphere, space, time, and the third dimension altogether. A part of me however, was left behind on the Wind River when it stole my heart in the summer of 2022.
Negha dágǫndıh́ ? Coleen Hardisty súzhe. Líídlįį Kúę gots'ęh á aht'e. How are you? My name is Coleen Hardisty and I am from Fort Simpson, Northwest Territories. I am a Two-Spirit mixed Dehcho Dene and I use they/she pronouns. For thirteen years I have lived in Yellowknife, situated on Chief Drygeese Territory and ancestral home of the Wıìlıìdeh Yellowknives Dene. In 1992, I began my existence as an only child in a pretty colonized household. My parents preferred that I stayed inside, so I read books, watched television, and used an expansive imagination to entertain myself. I sang my heart out often, especially when I could find an audience. I still do. In the last few years, after a lifetime of not quite feeling like I belonged anywhere, I have started to fall deeply in love with the land, and therefore, myself. I am seeking out more allies and mentors as I step into my true self, carving out my own role within my communities. More and more has been falling into place. It’s exhilerating.
In the summer of 2018, I was arriving back in Yellowknife after a move-for-a-man-gone-wrong. Still in shock from the sudden life change, I ran into a friend that said they were going on a canoe trip. “That sounds amazing, I wish I could come!” I told them. Three days later, I was in a car on the Mackenzie Highway doing exactly that. The trip was organized and led by Dehcho First Nations, and called the Yundaa Gogha (For the Future) Canoe Excursion. Our group of young Dene paddled the Dehcho from Líídlįį Kúę to Pehdzeh Ki over seven days, with one day spent at Jonas Antoine’s Willow River camp. It was this trip that woke up my soul and inspired me to begin communing with land and water, and to express my love and gratitude for everything that gives life. In 2020, I went to the fall semester at Dechinta Centre for Research and Learning, where I earned a Certificate in Land and Community Based Research on Horseshoe (Mackenzie) Island; in 2021, I attended a semester of the Environment and Natural Resources Technology Program in Fort Smith, which included a 3-week remote summer camp at Tsu Lake; and in 2022 I had the privilege to take seven weeks of Indigenous Youth River Guide Training with Dinjii Zhuh Adventures.
For seven weeks, I got to be surrounded by other Indigenous people. Working, laughing, crying, cooking, playing, and of course, paddling together. We grew so much as individuals, and as a small community of our own. Of course, growth never comes easily. There were times during training I was so scared of the white water that I almost packed up my things and went home. In some moments of frustration and exhaustion, I wanted to scream and cry and collapse. Everytime I challenged myself to regulate my emotions and take care of myself, I grew a little more. I trusted myself more, and in turn my confidence blossomed. Picking yourself back up from a dark hole is much easier when you have crisp air to breathe deeply, and clean water to splash on your face.
After all of our training, we were ready for sixteen days on the Wind River. Our original group of five youth and Bobbi Rose was joined by a sixth youth, two more guides, and a videographer. Everything we had been working towards came to this - the final lesson and test, all in one. On the Wind, there were moments so magical that my whole body would shake. Some sights were so beautiful that my lungs forgot to breathe, and my heart forgot to beat. We witnessed dozens of animals living their sacred lives, with some visiting us for extended periods of time. Every day, It would rain in the late afternoon or evening. For the last few days, it didn’t stop! Settling up camp held an edge of tension as we raced the showers. Our tents and tarps stayed ever clean! Occasionally a dramatic thunderstorm would find us, throwing lightning at our heads while bellowing mercilessly into our ears. At one fork in the river, the lightning snook up on us, cracking directly above our camp and throwing us into a panicked scurry.
Throughout our legs of travel on the Wind, the levels of water fluctuated wildly depending on the section or the day. The river could be mere inches, with the bottom grabbing onto our canoes, or meters above the soil line and moving as fast as a rollercoaster. The majority of the trip, the river was surrounded by mountains, cliffs, sometimes even shelves that dropped off into oblivion only to come back up again in the distance. The shelf of land made me think of Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein. What if we fell off the edge and never came back? Nothing appeared to be certain or real. The other youth and I would look at each other and say things like, “Are you seeing this? This is a dream, right?” The mountains would be shrouded in mist, appearing to be a thousand miles away yet within arms reach. We were in another universe, and it was reminding me not just how small my body was, but how much room I had to expand, forever.
Everything worth learning is from the water, the land, and the beings that pass on their teachings. More than the five certifications we received, I learned life lessons that I will carry and offer to others for the rest of my life. I grew more comfortable with being uncomfortable, and embracing what was in front of me. You cannot refuse the nature of the river, you simply must find the best route to paddle through. For the first time in my life, I genuinely felt like the leader that some people believed me to be. I got to support others, and express my opinions on what I thought the best decisions may be. I had the honour of being in the lead boat for the majority of our trip. On the third day, Bobbi Rose got me to start paddling stern, allowing me to take on most of the steering. She got me to stand up in our moving canoe so I could see upriver. Then she started asking me which way we were going. Suddenly I had to make those decisions, and I was shocked to have the responsibility. “Read the water, which way is it flowing? Which way will we go?” The most important thing I learned all summer was deciphering what the river was telling me - where the majority of the water was flowing, what obstacles lay ahead. Most of the time, there were two or more directions to choose from, as the river was braided and had many routes. At certain junctures, none of the options were ideal, and you had to lead people down a shallow braid or one with littered driftwood. No matter what, you would always have to look back and make sure everybody made it through safely. The feeling you get after successfully paddling through a particularly challenging or scary section is indescribable. You feel invincible! Rattled and a little jittery, but on top of the world nonetheless.
A colossal part of becoming a strong leader is learning; how to humble yourself, when to speak, when to act, when to wait, look, and listen. The guides on our trip - Bobbi Rose, Dan, Keira, Taylor - had lifetimes of outdoors experience between them. They held us youth through every challenge and every victory on the Wind. They taught us in the best ways through repetition, patience, and love. They embraced the times of chaos and uncertainty by talking things out kindly and making the best plan together. Multiple times in a day they would stand huddled together on the shore, squinting into the distance and discussing our next moves. “Where do you want to stop today? Is this the dangerous corner coming up? Drink some water!” Their stories from past trips were fascinating and funny, inspiring and sometimes terrifying. Bobbi Rose has always stressed to me that whatever you do in life, you have to do it with a great team. I got to see that in action with our guides this summer. How a strong team operates out of respect, humility, and curiosity. I felt so safe with our group, because I trusted and cared for everyone in it and knew they felt that way, too. Each one of us could count on wellness check-ins and people responding to our needs, stated or not. For over two weeks I had the best river family anyone could ask for. I miss it every day and it was just as extraordinary as the Peel Watershed itself.
I am counting down the days until next summer when I can paddle down a river again. Bobbi Rose has promised continued support, which I am extremely grateful for and will definitely be accessing in the future. With her help, I will be able to find meaningful trips with groups that value me as a guide and as an Indigenous person. I feel like a liberated indoor cat, ready to explore the world and hunt down that which fuels me. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I could do what I did this summer. Yet here I am, unscathed and hungry for more.
I want to thank my previous employer Northern Youth Leadership for paying me to take the training, Dinjii Zhuh Adventures, Long Ago People’s Place, Tatshenshini Expediting, Yukonstruct Society, Western Arctic Youth Collective, Arrowsmith Productions, Nahanni River Adventures, all northern Indigenous nations, Creator and all of their creations, and everyone else that helped make Indigenous Youth River Guide Training a reality. It made me realize that one day I could be that lead river guide, and I can’t wait to keep going on adventures! Máhsi máhsi máhsi.
Thank you for reading.
