As our children approached their teens, one of the things I was doing was leading experiences for teens that we called “Exodus Water Sports.” The week-long camps were held at our church’s beautiful Pilgrim Cove Camp, located on Payette Lake near McCall, Idaho. Over the years, I expanded the camp’s fleet of boats from four fiberglass canoes and one very used Hobie Cat sailboat to include a half dozen wind surf boards, a fleet of newer and lightweight canoes, and a fleet of four small sailboats that included two monohull and two catamaran boats. The camp featured Emergency Medical Technicians who taught as each camper earned their CPR certification. We also had an ACA certified canoe instructor, a qualified sailing instructor, and certified lifeguards. We ended each week with a half-day whitewater rafting experience that was subcontracted to a professional river guide service.

In that process, I did a lot of “horse trading” to obtain equipment for the camp. I was used to raising funds, but I developed skills in encouraging in kind donations and discounts that I used throughout my career as a pastor. I also gained a modest level of skill at repairing various boats. I learned to work fiberglass and epoxy to make repairs. I learned a bit about carving and shaping wooden parts for boats.

I also fell in love with paddling. Before long, I developed the desire to have my own canoe that I could use for vacations and family adventures. Lacking the funds to purchase a canoe, I read up on the process of building a strip plank canoe. I purchased a set of plans and began cutting inexpensive cedar from the lumberyard into strips. That first canoe was a bit rough, but it was balanced and water tight. We paddled it in lakes and rivers, including a trip down part of the Yellowstone River in Montana. I obtained a mast and sail from a family member who had once started to built a sailboat but abandoned the project. I built a set of lee boards and a rudder for the canoe, installed a mast step and had a serviceable, though slightly tippy sailboat.

The canoe bug stuck with me and over the next few years, I built two more canoes, refining my technique and learning more about how to take the lines from another boat. One of those canoes is a copy of a “Wee Lassie,” an historic design about which much has been written. The other is the design of a Chestnut Prospector, perhaps the most iconic canoe of 20th Century Canadian canoeing. One summer, while on vacation, I partially swamped the Wee Lassie paddling it in the Puget Sound off of Whitby Island and developed a desire for a kayak. Two kayaks followed. One was strip planked like the canoes. The other was built skin on frame to a Greenland design. The skin on frame kayak was covered with aircraft Dacron and designed to handle fairly substantial waves. I learned to paddle with a Greenland style paddle.

I have continued to build, making a row boat and currently am nearing completion of an expedition kayak. I continue to love paddling open canoes, but see the advantage of a kayak in the waters of the Salish Sea.

Much of the design of the canoes and kayaks I paddle is based on traditional indigenous canoe making. Now that I am retired, we have moved to a place where people have made and paddled canoes since time immemorial. Part of the preservation of the culture of the Coast Salish tribes is the making and paddling of canoes.

Yesterday we had the privilege of going down to the bay not far from our home and witnessing the arrival of the canoes of the Paddle to Puyallup Youth Canoe Journey. In recent years there has been an annual canoe journey with several traditional boats representing different tribal nations paddling together significant distances across the Salish Sea. Each evening the canoes come to shore and are formally welcomed according to the traditions of the local tribe. There is a public dinner, story telling, singing, and dancing. Earlier this year we witnessed the landing of canoes welcomed by Lummi people. Yesterday the welcoming tribe was Nooksack.

When the indigenous people of the region speak of the craft they paddle in English, they are careful to use the term “Canoe.” They joke that anyone who calls the vessel a boat will be thrown into the sea to swim. The canoes are works of art. The tradition was to carve canoes out of a single cedar log and I have seen some canoes built the traditional way. Other canoes have been built using the strip plank method incorporating modern epoxy and fiberglass. One canoe that I have seen is made entirely out of modern composites. I have also seen a skin on frame canoe. The canoes are large, accommodating a dozen or more paddlers and the teams of paddlers are coached and guided by a captain at the stern of the boat who steers with draw strokes from that position.

Canoe culture is just one of the many lessons that our indigenous neighbors have to teach and I am grateful for the experiences to witness and learn.

I, however, am not indigenous. I am a transplant. I have moved around during my life, living in six different states from Illinois to Washington. I have made some friendships with indigenous people, but I also have many friends who, like me are descendants of settlers.

The honey bees I tend are not indigenous. They are descendants of bees bred in Europe and imported to this region to produce honey and help pollinate commercial agricultural crops. Our colonies live at our son’s farm and pollinate fruit trees, berry bushes, field crops, flowers and vegetables. They also produce abundant honey. They have been especially productive this year and we will be able to harvest honey at least twice. The first honey harvest is now in progress with two heavy supers with ten frames each completely filled with honey. The first jar extracted seemed worthy of ceremony. Like the canoes it was the object of my photographs yesterday.

Life continues to have many adventures. I am learning much from our new neighbors and also learning much from the bees. There are teachers everywhere I turn and I am grateful for their lessons.