West Loop #1 Winnipeg: Premier Destination
The place where we will be departing for the western loop of our Sea to Sea to Sea journey is pretty significant in the big picture. It’s where the Old Dawson Road ends at the banks of the Red River in St. Boniface, Winnipeg. For two of Manitoba’s premiers – its first and its latest – the Dawson Road plays a significant part in their rise to leadership. Let’s add a third premier to that list: Manitoba’s 8th. Or should I say the 9th? (That will make sense soon.)
I thought it would be great to have Wab Kinew, our current premier, join us at the Red for our departure ceremony. I wanted to invite him face to face but I don’t exactly run in his circles. I put it to the Lord and mentioned it to Patty. A few weeks later she told me that Premier Kinew was having a Christmas Open House at the Legislature the next day. Do you think there might be a chance to actually ...you know... ? With a little bit of hope we drove to the Leg on that bitter December day last year. We rushed past the other events happening and were the last ones allowed in the long lineup that snaked to the Premier’s office. When we were finally in the office, and the doors were closed behind us, I introduced myself to Mr. Kinew as the guy who had taken a Red River Cart journey from Winnipeg to St. Paul Minnesota. Apparently someone had just told him about me. Cool! Despite his smile, exhaustion was written all over the premier’s face so I quickly described our prayer journey around Canada. Mr. Kinew responded by saying that he, too, is a deeply spiritual person. I invited him to join us in August at the banks of the river.
Will he come? Don’t know. I’m not really expecting that. But I am hoping he’ll read the following story that I had just written about him. And for him.
Travellers on the Dawson Road: Premier Edition
A certain Francis Dickens was not a very happy camper along the Dawson Road. He and his fellow officers of Canada’s first federal police force were attempting to travel from Toronto to Winnipeg way too late in the season. The boats that were meant to bring them across the lakes had been pulled out for the winter so they had to wait for the ice to freeze in order to get across. All the rest houses had been closed up so the men had to bivouac when they could no longer set up their ice-encrusted tents. They did manage to break into one rest house and found a barrel of dried apples which provided a little sustenance along the way. The miserable officers ended their journey by wading through deep snow for the last 200 km stretch of road from Lake of the Woods to where they finally set up headquarters at Lower Fort Garry.
By this time - the year was 1873 - Francis Dickens’ daddy, Charles, had already introduced the world to Scrooge, Tiny Tim and the Spirit of Christmas Past. But the most useful term to come out of the book Christmas Carol, at least for Francis and the Royal Northwest Mounted Police, was definitely ‘Humbug!’
Small Key, Big Door
A few months ago, passing through a First Nation on my way north, I was drawn to the words on two large signs – one written in Cree and one in English. They were a summons and a promise from Gitche Manitou - the Creator:
“If my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”
On September 1, 2023 my wife Patty, myself and seven others travelled to the Northwest Angle on Lake of The Woods. Here was the beginning of the last stretch of the Dawson Road towards Winnipeg and where Treaty 3 had been signed just a few weeks before Francis Dickens passed by. Our mission was to ask for Gitche Manitou’s restoration of the authority he had given the Anishinaabeg as its caretakers. And that He would heal the land as He had promised.
Tom Cameron, an Anishibaabeg who grew up in Treaty 3 territory was part of our group. After a feast and a time of worship, I asked Tom if he would take up the ancient mantle of authority of his people and grant Patty and I permission to continue our journey down the Dawson Road towards Winnipeg. Tom is not a chief or an elder, yet he bears a mandate written into his DNA by the Creator. For me asking for permission wasn’t just a formality. I would live by Tom’s decision and end our journey right there if his answer was ‘no’. Tom thoughtfully and tearfully took up an old role and gave us his blessing to cross the land.
As we circled around the fire, I stood in for the Canadian delegation who had hammered out the Treaty without bothering to listen to how the Anishinaabe chiefs understood things. I knew that, if only by being a frequent camper at Rushing River Provincial Park in Treaty 3 territory, I personally had benefitted from the abuses of the Treaty. I asked Tom and Chanice, the other Anishinaabeg present, if they were able to forgive me. They each hesitated, as painful memories flashed across their faces. But then they both, in turn, chose to forgive.
With tobacco incense curling its way up to the Creator, we asked that he would keep the promise that he had made. After our ceremony we parted ways - some of us to continue down the Dawson Road, some to return to their jobs in Winnipeg. Even as we hugged one another goodbye, I sensed that Gitche Manitou had heard from heaven and the healing we desired had begun.
On October 4, just a month after we had met at Northwest Angle and 150 years to the day after Treaty 3 was signed, an Anishinaabeg from Treaty 3 territory was elected as Manitoba’s premier. Wab Kinew, a First Nations host swearing to give leadership to the guests in his homeland. Was this the result of some spiritual chain which had been broken when we met at the Northwest Angle? Some key which had opened a rusty old door? Only the Creator knows for sure.
A Criminal Berry-Picker
A couple of days after our time at The Angle we were walking down a remote section of the Dawson Road toward Winnipeg, and noticed a large stand of raspberry canes. It was too late in the season to find any berries but I bet some earlier travellers had. Was this the site of The Illicit Raspberry Frenzy of 1870? The soldiers under Colonel Wolseley who were marching toward Winnipeg had to trade their guns for shovels to bring the road up to army standards, and they weren’t particularly thrilled with their new roles. Gorging on raspberries was a little more attractive than transforming muskeg into highway so after appointing a lookout, one work party dropped their road-building tools and headed into the berry patch. A while into the feast, they heard a panicked call from the lookout. “Here comes the General!” As Wolseley rounded the bend, there were his soldiers, hard at work. When he asked who the commander of the unit was, they pointed to the ensign, Hugh MacDonald, who was shoveling so hard he barely had time to look up. The general commended him and his men. “Keep up the good work.” Colonel Wolesley had barely disappeared down the road before the interrupted feeding frenzy was resumed. So, about this Hugh guy – what do you think? What leadership skills did he inherit from his father – the first prime minister of Canada, Sir John A. MacDonald? Was he a bad leader because he wasn’t ensuring the job got done right, or was he a good leader because he cared for the men under him and saw they needed a break?
Some of you have probably visited the home of this criminal berry-picker. The house is called Dalnavert and it’s now a National Historic Site. When the rest of the army headed back east, Hugh MacDonald settled in Winnipeg and eventually became Manitoba’s ninth premier. It was in the basement of Dalnavert that I learned another story about the man. He cared about youth in crises and would let young offenders stay there as an alternative to jail time. Whatever the voters of Manitoba felt about MacDonald, I’m sure for a few boys who just needed a hand up, this premier was da bomb dot com.
Royal Blessing
I’ve been in the basement of another premier of Manitoba. During the reign of Gary Filmon, I was sent to wire his new hot tub. Years later on another service call, I learned something that Filmon himself probably doesn’t know to this day. I had hooked up the spa incorrectly and the premier of Manitoba was getting free Hydro power all those years. I felt like an idiot and the mistake was corrected. But on the inside, I had to smile. I liked Gary Filmon – he always struck me as a caring leader. I had accidentally blessed him back.
Then there was Christmas Day of 2015. Instead of just sitting at home like Scrooge, my son Simeon talked me into serving Christmas Dinner with him to the patrons of Salvation Army downtown. Another guy was there serving with his son. Premier Greg Selinger. No media showed up and it wasn’t a photo op. The two of them apparently did the same thing every Christmas. Most of the men and women who were given a delicious feast that day probably didn’t realize they were in the presence of Manitoba royalty. Even though Selinger was taking a beating in the polls for his policies, to those enjoying turkey at Sally Ann he was just a kind man who had given up Christmas at home to bless them.
Nile Voyageurs
One of Wab Kinew’s first actions as premier was to correct the historical record and declare Louis Riel the first premier of Manitoba. It only made sense. With complete disregard to his reputation out east, and even for his very life, Riel fought for the people under his care - Metis, indigenous and white settler alike. Which is why I have a little trouble admiring Colonel Wolseley who came down the Dawson Road with a large army for the sole purpose of taking Riel out. That said, I came across something in a graveyard that made me like the colonel a little more.
Patty and I respectfully searched the indigenous cemetery surrounding St. Peters Dynevor Anglican Church near East Selkirk till we found what we were looking for: a couple of gravestones with the inscription ‘Nile Voyageur’. As the story goes, Wolseley returned east from Winnipeg and, years later, was sent on another mission – this time within Africa. His assignment was to boat up the Nile and then head overland to rescue a beseiged British garrison at Khartoum. For travelling upstream on this mighty river, Wolseley wanted the best boatsmen possible. He remembered none better than the indigenous paddlers who had conveyed him across the lakes and rivers on the route towards Winnipeg. He contacted Simon Dawson, the architect of that road, to find him the people he needed. And that’s how indigenous men from along the Dawson Road came to navigate the Nile. Colonel Wolseley arrived too late to accomplish his mission in Khartoum. But clearly some of his voyageurs made it to the heart of Africa and returned to Manitoba with an amazing story to tell their children. A story of the time they dipped their paddles in the longest river in the world.
At Premier Kinew’s swearing-in ceremony as premier, Chief Samuel Knott led those present in the Lord’s Prayer. I thought the line “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us” was especially powerful coming from an indigenous man who certainly has received many a wound from ‘trespassers’. I’m sure Chief Knott, like Jesus, knows that forgiveness is as much for the healing of the forgive-er as the forgive-ee. This gave me an idea and I’m not sure of the value of it 150 years after the fact, but what do I have to lose? I, as a Manitoban who has been forgiven much, choose to set aside my grudge and forgive Colonel Wolseley for his sins, not against me, but against a man I admire and my first premier - Louis Riel.
