BCAA Travel Blog

The drive from Kamloops to Cache Creek along Highway 97 packs a visual wallop. You pass shimmering aquamarine lakes, snow-topped mountains, craggy canyons, sagebrush-covered hills and even a few hoodoos. A few years ago, the area served as the backdrop for the movie An Unfinished Place, featuring A-list actors Robert Redford, Morgan Freeman and Jennifer Lopez. But the mind-blowing scenery was the real star of the show. After viewing the film, talk-show host David Letterman commented on the area’s natural charms in an interview with Lopez, stating, “My God, the tremendous beauty of the surrounding countryside!” That remark prompted Kamloops’ officials to mount a campaign to convince Letterman to bring his show to the city. He never came, but we are here today, cruising down the highway in brilliant sunshine, headed for a rendezvous with history at Hat Creek Ranch.

The ranch is the centrepiece of a complex of 20 historic structures that include a working blacksmith shop, horse barn, teepees, a First Nations’ pit house, a hotel and a saloon. On display amid the buildings is a wide variety of historic artifacts and farm equipment used during the pioneer era. From mid-May to late September, the ranch offers tours of the site, camping, nature hikes and trail and stagecoach rides. Located 11 kilometres north of Cache Creek at the junction of Highways 97 and 99, the ranch began as a small log house built in 1861 by Donald McLean, a former Hudson’s Bay trader. McLean moved to the area with his third wife, a Native woman named Sophia Grant, and his five children, dreaming of a small fortune to be made by servicing the thousands of miners and settlers headed north up to the goldfields near Barkerville. The Cariboo Wagon Road came through two years later, filling McLean’s roadhouse with plenty of customers. However, McLean did not live long enough to enjoy the profits of his new enterprise. He was shot and killed while riding with a posse during the Chilcotin War only three years after he finished construction.

Ranch manager Liza Curran is on hand to greet us when we arrive at Hat Creek in late afternoon. Joining her are two members of the Shuswap Nation: Mike Retasket, chief of the Bonaparte Indian Band and fellow band member, John Pierro, who is decked out in full aboriginal regalia. Besides being a colourful, wisecracking character, Pierro is an accomplished traditional performer, well known for his unique dancing style and his elaborate regalia. He and his wife make all of his apparel by hand. After posing for photos, Pierro takes on a tour of the small First Nations’ village attached to the site, where he explains some of the local Shuswap customs and rituals.

That evening, after enjoying a dinner at the ranch house restaurant, we head down to a spot near the creek to take a look at our lodging for the night. We are staying in a traditional Shuswap winter dwelling known as a kekuli. These pit houses were built half above and half below ground. Pine logs were made into a conical structure on top of the support poles. Fir boughs, humus, stripped bark and other natural insulation was piled on and then finally the earth was put on top creating a heat-efficient structure.

Kekulis always featured two openings. The men’s entrance was down through the top using a notched log as a ladder. The lower entrance was reserved for elders, women and children. These two entrances were handy in case of attack by enemies or an aggressive animal. Each family would usually position the lower entrance toward the creek or river to create circulation and to push the smoke out the top hole. A movable reed screen would be positioned to block the weather.

As we inspect the kekuli, Chief Retasket begins building a fire. He encourages eight-year old Amy, who has never been camping before, or been exposed to an outdoor fire, to help him ignite the kindling. Her initial apprehension quickly gives way to excited wonder. We spend the evening sitting around the fire talking and listening to Retasket sing a few songs, which he delivers in syncopation with his hand-held drum. He tells us that 60 years ago he could have been arrested for singing like this. At that time, the practise of all First Nations’ rituals were banned by Canadian law.

As darkness descends and the wind picks up, Retasket asks us if we want to play a traditional game called lehal. He carefully unrolls a package from his bag, revealing a carved set of polished, painted sticks. Half of them have wolves’ heads on the top, the other half are crowned with frogs. One larger stick features a painted raven.   

Seldom seen by the public, lehal is an aboriginal gambling game played throughout B.C.. The painted sticks act as scoring devices. There are also a couple sets of bones. Each set of bones includes one with a stripe around it, and one without a stripe. The object of the game is to correctly guess the location of the unmarked bone while one member of the opposing team is shifting each of the two sets around behind his back. Guessing the correct bone wins sticks, until the game is finally won by the winning of the large kick stick. Each round has a winner and a loser and wagers can be placed on the outcome of individual rounds or on the result of the completed game. Both players and participants place bets. Retasket tells us that lehal is sometimes played for big money. “I once saw a game in Prince George where $60,000 was riding on the outcome.”

The game always includes singng. Songs are used to distract the other team and to pump up your team’s morale. Because none of us know any songs, Retasket decides he will sing for both sides. It doesn’t take very long before we have all gotten into the proper spirit. There is a lot of chanting and crazy dancing by the flames. The game takes about an hour to complete. The frogs finally triumph. Retasket looks crestfallen. “You know, I have played this game three years with this set of sticks and that is the first time my team has ever lost.”

Our night in the kekuli, spent sleeping on air-filled rubber mattresses, is an interesting experience, but not entirely restful. Vigorous stereophonic snoring makes it difficult to drift off. When I finally fall asleep I dream of howling wolves and firelight.

(To be continued …)

Photo credits: Kerry Banks

Filed under: Writing from the road