WELLNESS ARTIST

WELLNESS ARTIST

DENMAN ISLAND READERS & WRITERS FESTIVAL

STEWART GOODINGS

DENMAN ISLAND — TAYSTAY'ICH, or the 'Inner Island' — is located on the traditional unceded territory of the Pentlach people including the K'omoks, Sliammon and Qualicum First Nations. For 18 years, the island has hosted a remarkable literary festival. Dubbed by the Globe and Mail as “one of the best little literary festivals in Canada”, it has drawn renowned writers like Esi Edugyan, Richard Wagamese, Jack Hodgins, and Beverly McLachlin.

“I like to quote Stuart McLean’s comment about his CBC Radio show The Vinyl Cafe to describe the Denman Festival: 'We may not be big, but we’re small'”, says Stewart Goodings, one of the volunteer organizers of the event. “It’s an intimate, informal and laid-back experience for both authors and audience member, just like our island.”

Jonina Kirton and has attracted its usual diverse line-up of novelists, non-fiction writers and poets. Host of CBC Radio’s ‘White Coat, Black Art’, Dr. Brian Goldman will open the Festival on July 14, reading from his book, The Power of Kindness, and will be the feature interviewee at the closing Main Stage July 17 in conversation with local author and gardening expert Des Kennedy.

Audiences will hear Michael Christie read from his family/environmental saga Greenwood; Jonina Kirton share her poems based on her Metis/Icelandic ancestry; former MP Libby Davies reflect on her lifelong social activism; Kate Harris relate her epic adventure cycling the ancient Silk Road; SFU professor Mark Jaccard suggest ways to cope with climate change; Cedar Bowers read excerpts from her debut novel Astra; Peggy Herring reach back to the late 19th century for a novel about a Russian ship’s crew wrecked off the

Brian Goldman

Pacific northwest coast; and Anosh Irani explore challenges faced by Indo-Canadian characters from his many novels and short stories.

Aspiring writers—eight of them—will take part in the 5-day intensive program The Writing Week, with noted BC author Angie Abdou. This is a chance for writers already engaged in a project to share their work and get constructive feedback from an experience author and writing coach as well as seven other writing colleagues.

The festival is very much a community affair—authors are billeted in people’s homes, local caterers provide meals, and Denmanites moderate the sessions. Despite Denman being a quiet island, it hosts a wide variety of annual events, such as the Pottery Tour (May 21-22, the Home and Garden Tour (June 11-12) and the Blackberry Fair (Labour Day weekend, September).

Registration is now open for this July’s Readers and Writers Festival! You can find all the details at: www.denmanislandwritersfestival.com

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GROWING UP COASTAL

The Dreaded Shuffle is Upon Us!

JOSEPH MCLEAN

RYAN'S EYES WERE HUGE as he looked at the pack, stuffed with adventure treats and gear. When I invited him and Kevin to to join me on a 29k racing ramble through the woods, it seemed so safely far away. But as winter slowly opened into spring, we had climbed all the mountains, mucked through all the mudflats, splashed in all the sparkling streams. We had measured the length of the Marathon Shuffle in four adventures, finding it to be vast, full of birdsong and rain and endless elevation.

And now we were here, standing nervously at the start line. Adults and teens with fancy packs and titanium hiking poles milled about, but there were no other kids, no other eight year olds in wizards cloak or ten year olds in classic purple gore-tex. Only us.

Eagle was addressing the crowd, weaving his story of respect and care, telling us about the Tla'amin lands we would soon have the honour of passing through. Ean was promising free beer to those that survived. And Scott was loading his gun.

BANG, and we were off in a flurry of cushioned footsteps, the first of over 50,000 steps. Amidst the stampede Kevin smiled up at me, cape billowing behind him like a new kind of avenger. I'll never forget that smile, that certainty. I begged him not to start fast, but this was his slowest speed possible, he yelled. More careful, Ryan measured his stride behind us, giving way to the sprinters. And soon we were immersed in the wilderness, fully committed, focused only on the impossible task ahead.

The Marathon Shuffle divides evenly into three great hills: Thunder Ridge, the Marathon Hill from which it is named, and Scout Mountain at the end. It can also divide into lollipops, one for each 7 kilometres. Now Kevin was thundering up the ridge, and Ryan was catching up behind, step by measured step. "There's no way we can make it," he called to me in a friendly way. "It's way too long." "Rarrr, of course we can make it!" Kevin returned. But his legs were getting tired.

Ryan pulled ahead, and my walkie talkie crackled to life with his trail reports from beyond. "Here's the place where you dropped your phone in a creek," he reminded me sweetly. "Watch out, it's even muddier than before!" Kevin was not pleased with this change in standings. To bolster his spirits, I played songs from his favourite

video game, and the woods echoed with improbable yet distinctly classical music. Soon he was power hiking once more, chasing Ryan through muddy plains.

The woods were mostly silent now, only a few determined hikers behind us. We saw one as we pulled to a stop for second breakfast, Ryan waiting for us at a creek the children especially loved. Nestled just before the great Toquenatch Fir, estimated to be over a thousand years old. The creek itself was timeless yet entirely new, darting with tiny fish. Our meal there was perfect, and we launched uphill with new vigour, hiking as a team now. "We're definitely going to make it," Ryan said. "Why is this actually fun?"

It was still fun as we topped out on Marathon Hill, Ryan and I taking turns pushing Kevin up the steep slope. On training runs they had thrown arms around each other and dual-propelled, but Kevin needed it more in this moment. That's what the adventure was, giving what each person needed. And at the top, an unexpected delight; handfuls of impossibly sweet oranges from an aid station just about to close.

We could hear a band of hikers just behind, and we vowed to stay ahead of them. Appleton Canyon passed, the great waterfalls cascading beside us. "It's taking forever, and we're not going to make it," Ryan advised us sadly. But we were still on pace.

Somewhere near Shangri-la, it finally started to rain. We broke into the chocolate bar then, under a rare covered shelter. No hikers passed, having wisely withdrawn or been eaten by bears.

The last quarter of our distance remained, and the rain stopped as we began once more. But our smallest member complained of pains in the leg, and required the occasional piggy back, to the disgust of his brother. I explained that good sportsmanship means you can lend a hand to a team member in need. He digested this for a while, and decided that he would continue to try not Still, it was a beleaguered, footsore, and weary party that rolled into the last 5k to find the aid station long gone and dark clouds gathering overhead. Then like a white knight from the trees stepped Katie, arranged in secret to meet us, and bearing in her hands the lifesaving turkey sausages of joy.

She also carried the promise of escape: one or more of us could bail now, just before Scout, and cap our adventure at 24k. I gently pushed for closure, but the children were resolute. "Give up? Never! Don't be silly." And so with hugs and farewells, they stormed up the flanks of Scout Mountain, past a mildly surprised owl, and into a gathering storm.

It was raining freely as we trudged up the many false summits and skittered down the steep rocky slope, hand in hand to avoid sudden accidents. "We are absolutely going to make it," Ryan advised us wetly, and now with a kilometre to go they broke into a ragged run, flying down the last chute at a 7 minute pace, twisting between raindrops to sprint across that final gravel lot.

There were no cheering crowds as they made the desperate push, but mom was there! At the line, to grab them and whirl them about in victory.

"I feel like I have 1% battery left," Ryan gasped, staggering on his feet. "I don't even want pizza, I want to sleep until tomorrow," but when the pizza came he tore into it, and regaled us between mouthfuls with the words he would say over and over again, in the hours and days that followed.

"We did it. We completed the impossible. We did the whole Marathon Shuffle. And we never gave up."

And smiling from under his bear cub hat, Kevin shrugged. "Yes, of course. I knew we would all along," he said.