Teslin Tlingit Village

June 8th

Atlin Lake, BC, is where we will stay two nights, because it is heaven. The largest lake in BC, an hours drive, off the beaten path from the Alaska Highway, a side-track from heading to Whitehorse, and an idyllic alternative to slumbering in the Walmart parking lot. The Milepost bible sold me by describing Atlin as the shangri-la of the north, with population of 350, and of course, this immense and tranquil lake.

This has been one of my favorite days, with leaving our Yukon camp site by the Rancheria River this morn, and visiting Teslin, a Tlingit village, really, of only a very few hundred. The cultural center was this lovely, landscaped acreage by the lake of the same name, tribal land most likely, with the entrance walk lined by 5 brightly colored totems (carved in 2009) signifying the clans of the Teslin Tlingit (prononced "Klingit) tribal council. The receptionist in the museum, center, shared that the elders told the young ones not to touch, do anything to totems ever, and to allow them to just live their lives naturally. She said they never asked why. Mark heard these current and historical family symbols were supposed to be allowed to return to the earth. He found one on its side in the forest, on Village Island, part of the BC Burrough Islands, when he and Gail were sailing, over 8 years ago. The park ranger he encountered was not even aware of this totem, and Mark led him to it.

This Tlingit greeter offered us freshly brewed coffee, and to watch a film on their annual festival, to which surrounding Tlingits and public are invited. Members from the Atlin tribe flew in a cornucopia of fresh salmon for their contribution, since the Teslin tribe found salmon difficult to access. The film was joyfully and well-done, sharing the dance, drumming and story-telling festivities of the July bash. The Tlingit accent reminds me of the sing-songing, clicking rhythm and melodies of the Kootenai and Spokane tribal members.

The exhibit of wooden masks, beech boxes (used for storing precious familiars), intricately beaded clothing and octopus bags, moccasins, jewelry was a small yet very tasteful and well chosen display of quality. Even the gift shop showed similar consideration in items presented aesthetically. I bought a cool black t-shirt, with a minimalist graphic design of the exterior of the center and the totems, and fun red slip-on canvas shoes with a Tlingit design. Mark left me to indulge myself, having been trained by Gail in another life, about not rushing us female shoppers. Thank you Gail, for another tribute to creating this sweet, dear man. The younger woman replacing the original woman of my age, at the reception desk, was pleasant, attractive, with lighter brown hair, lovely moon-shaped face, with ethnic-hip dress with pearls. She married a Tlingit, and when I said she was something, too, turns out she is Salish from the interior, and has lived in Teslin for over twenty years.

Margaret was the craftswoman in the corner of the open-aired, light-wooded building, with windows looking out to the lake and a lovely deck. She had tables set-up with her moose and caribou hides, and all the simple tools to transform the stiff, almost translucent hides to soft, solid, maleable leathers. She soaks the stiff hide three times in a bar soap solution, until they are soft and become white. Then, for color for those who prefer, she stretches these and smokes them with a certain wood and pine cones, until a soft, lovely caramel hue. There were several pair of beautiful mid-calf moccasins she had made, with caribou soles for snowshoes, and canvas body, ringed at the top with more leather and ties.

At 13 y.o., her mother called her to come, said it was time she learned the multi-generational craft and ritual from her and the grandfather. The girl balked, wanted to continue what ever play she was pursuing, asked why she had to, since she wasn't the oldest child, and was told she is the one to assume the family rhythm and art. Beading was also taught her. Before her mother passed, the parent told Margaret she regretted not having had time to make her two sons jackets, which Margaret promised she would fulfill for her parent. Tlingit do not create a headstone for their loved one for a year, and by that ceremony, her brothers received their gift from the sister, of two red clothed coats, beaded on the front with two birds (I forgot to ask which) and the back with a killer whale (which is what she calls an orca). She was proud sharing the photo of one with me, and then showed me the quote from her aunt, about women's character becoming good, hard workers. She had a girlish, soft, enthusiastic, open spirit, Margaret did, with a lovely light chestnut complexion, square faced (like my own), and bright, cheerful eyes. When I asked if I could take her picture, she said, "Let's make this something," and picked up both caribou and moose hides, draping them over her forearms, and had a huge, prideful smile. She gave me her card and her boss', asking if I may write his website, about my experience with her, how she did, which I will follow-through with for this charming, genuine sista.

 

 

Mark then came back, not believing I could still be shopping, and met me at another table where I was told, if I asked, this other gal may show me the center's new auction acquisition of a man's coat that was hundreds of years old. Two women were preparing the vibrant rust-colored, beaded, three-quartered coat for storage, and gently uncovered the tissue paper protection, for us to photograph, and drool over.

We left this center where I felt a "home," and would have liked to have spent more time in this special Teslin community, but world famous cinnamon rolls called us to Johnson's Crossing, the next village, Mark has been salivating over from the beginning of the trip. The rolls were huge, warm and had that burnt sugar on the bottom with a bit of icing---delicioso! And here we sit at Atlin Lake, for some lovely down-time and slumming.