Alert Bay & Johnstone Strait
Today was spent in the company of killer whales.
Early in the morning, we crept through the fog to tie up at the Alert Bay Dock. Alert Bay is the home of the Namgis tribe of the Kwakwakawakw, the famed totem pole carvers and dancers of the southern Northwest Coast. Traditional culture here is strong, but it has suffered many hard buffets in recent history. The potlatch, a ceremony to mark life’s important events, was outlawed by the Canadian government in the early eighteen hundreds. In 1921, participants of a large potlatch were arrested and their ceremonial regalia was confiscated. Many years later, the regalia was “returned from slavery” and brought back to Alert Bay, where it is now housed at the U’mista Cultural Centre. We walked through town to U’mista, where we saw spectacular variety of masks. Huge ravens gaped their bills dangerously, grizzly bears brandished their claws, thunderbirds soared.
While U’mista preserves the past, the tribe’s ceremonial present and future can be found up the hill at the Alert Bay bighouse. This building is a traditional cedar house built on an impressive scale. Huge houseposts, carved as bears and thunderbirds, support crossbeams in the form of three-headed serpents. As we entered, a large fire burned in the center of the house, adding to a mood that was at once solemn and festive. The Tlasatla Dancers are a group of young Kwakwakawakw who are learning traditional dance. They demonstrated parts of the Hamatsa, the Nanalala, the salmon dance, and others. A killer whale entered the house, the dancer moving in slow undulations, imitating the ponderous grace of these mighty creatures.
After the dances, we hurried back to the ship, since we suspected more killer whales were in the neighborhood. Johnstone Strait is one of the best places in the world to find killer whales. Salmon migrating to the Frasier River are concentrated here, and the killer whales gather to greet the salmon. These whales, the gentle fish-eaters, are perhaps the best-know whales anywhere. Their birth-years, their mothers, sisters and grandmothers are all known. Indeed, one of the real delights of finding killer whales here is that we can know them as individuals. And we soon found them. A group of 25 or so whales was milling about the waters of aptly-named Blackfish Sound. The sunlight was gorgeous, and the viewing conditions were ideal. We saw groups of whales surfacing in tight rows, or big males rising in solitary splendor. We saw spy-hopping and tail-lobbing. We saw whales spouting just a few feet from the ship. Watching whales is interesting, and so is listening to them – with our hydrophone, we heard the haunting whistles and echolocatory clicks used by these noisy whales. At last, we turned south toward the San Juan Islands, everyone brimming with excitement over our extraordinary day.
Today was spent in the company of killer whales.
Early in the morning, we crept through the fog to tie up at the Alert Bay Dock. Alert Bay is the home of the Namgis tribe of the Kwakwakawakw, the famed totem pole carvers and dancers of the southern Northwest Coast. Traditional culture here is strong, but it has suffered many hard buffets in recent history. The potlatch, a ceremony to mark life’s important events, was outlawed by the Canadian government in the early eighteen hundreds. In 1921, participants of a large potlatch were arrested and their ceremonial regalia was confiscated. Many years later, the regalia was “returned from slavery” and brought back to Alert Bay, where it is now housed at the U’mista Cultural Centre. We walked through town to U’mista, where we saw spectacular variety of masks. Huge ravens gaped their bills dangerously, grizzly bears brandished their claws, thunderbirds soared.
While U’mista preserves the past, the tribe’s ceremonial present and future can be found up the hill at the Alert Bay bighouse. This building is a traditional cedar house built on an impressive scale. Huge houseposts, carved as bears and thunderbirds, support crossbeams in the form of three-headed serpents. As we entered, a large fire burned in the center of the house, adding to a mood that was at once solemn and festive. The Tlasatla Dancers are a group of young Kwakwakawakw who are learning traditional dance. They demonstrated parts of the Hamatsa, the Nanalala, the salmon dance, and others. A killer whale entered the house, the dancer moving in slow undulations, imitating the ponderous grace of these mighty creatures.
After the dances, we hurried back to the ship, since we suspected more killer whales were in the neighborhood. Johnstone Strait is one of the best places in the world to find killer whales. Salmon migrating to the Frasier River are concentrated here, and the killer whales gather to greet the salmon. These whales, the gentle fish-eaters, are perhaps the best-know whales anywhere. Their birth-years, their mothers, sisters and grandmothers are all known. Indeed, one of the real delights of finding killer whales here is that we can know them as individuals. And we soon found them. A group of 25 or so whales was milling about the waters of aptly-named Blackfish Sound. The sunlight was gorgeous, and the viewing conditions were ideal. We saw groups of whales surfacing in tight rows, or big males rising in solitary splendor. We saw spy-hopping and tail-lobbing. We saw whales spouting just a few feet from the ship. Watching whales is interesting, and so is listening to them – with our hydrophone, we heard the haunting whistles and echolocatory clicks used by these noisy whales. At last, we turned south toward the San Juan Islands, everyone brimming with excitement over our extraordinary day.
