More Trails, More Tales. Bob Henderson

the Best Island cabins while being informed about the life and three pillars of Wendell Beckwith, is a rewarding and imaginative journey into how we dwell or might dwell in the Canadian north woods.

      Wendell Beckwith was a true hobbyist. He expressed a committed “defiance of the contemporary.” He expressed strong values toward the development of ideas and personal development. He sought out his own brand of liberty. Aldo Leopold might have called him the ultimate hobbyist. This doesn’t sound right, given how the word hobby has come to be understood. But Wendell did exercise many of the hobbies of others with his environmental, scientific, and humanitarian work. I missed meeting Wendell Beckwith with a last-minute route choice change on a 1977 canoe trip. Too bad for me. I have only seen two pictures of Wendell. He has a big smile in both of them.

      It would be a shame to lose the cabins, the critical link to the man and his story, because of short-sightedness at this crucial time. On August 16, 2005, twenty-five years to the day since Wendell’s departure, I sat and thought of my own dwelling on the earth amidst the aura of the Beckwith story. It was time well spent. I was grateful to Wendell and I am certain I am not alone in drawing energy from the site. Perhaps this is Wendell’s legacy: pure reflection for those canoe trippers who continue to travel and think in more primal ways.

      Wendell’s way is not the only way to dwell well in remote places. Enlightened Nirivians will tell you that a touch too much Scotch, a crazy idea well played, and a commitment to encouraging the natural integrity of the place can go a long way towards dwelling well and inspiring a great story.

      Nirivia’s main cabin.

      We were on Lake Superior, sea kayaking in 2013, out for over a week travelling from Silver Islet to Gravel River (near Rossport). We had known about Nirivia from a fine area guidebook.[5] When Beth Foster paddled over to a nearby cottage and was greeted with “Welcome to Nirivia,” we knew that not only were we in the right place, we were in for a fine time as well.

      Now Nirivia isn’t a cottage or camp name. It is rather a secluded self-styled nation state with its own commercial activity, national flag, national anthem, titled members, and certificates of citizenship. Russell Evans, a founding member and King of Nirivia, with his partner, Sharon Manitowabi, would be our host for the afternoon. We had a lot of questions, and lucky for us, Russ was the man.

      First, the Nirivia story. In 1977, four Nipigon residents, including, Russ Evans, were camped on Lake Superior near present-day Nirivia. They had learned that the Robinson Superior Treaty — Lake Superior Native bands’ land claim between Michipicoten and Thunder Bay — did not include the many off-shore islands that had been their childhood playground. Russ at age thirteen had camped solo on the islands to get his Pathfinder badge. As the Scotch flowed, an older Russ and friends decided the group should claim a portion of the islands. Some loophole in the treaty allowed this process a degree of formality. Nirivia: what a name. Apparently the four may have been trying to say Nirvana, but it came out Nirivia, which, you have to admit, does have an exotic feel to it. They thought so too. Nirivians will tell you that Nirivia is more a state of mind than any serious sovereignty bid. That said, they do have an honourable declaration of intent for their fifty-nine islands (St. Ignace Island, at 132 square miles, is the largest among them).[6]

      All the fun nationhood stuff — a flag, anthem, awarding of titles (Official Scribe, Commander of the Navy, and Cosmos Inspector, for example) — isn’t simply a joke. And the declaration is not just political theatre or fun. The Nirivian state held for decades an active licensed tourist establishment; the Nirivian Island Expeditions Ltd. Fishing was the mainstay. They had a healthy business supported by word of mouth and a great T-shirt. I’d give up a big Lake Superior trout for one of those T-shirts or a certificate of citizenship. Fishing and boating remain a big part of the Nirivian lifestyle. We felt right at home. Indeed, the day before we arrived Russ had caught a twenty-three-inch speckled trout in the Nirivian homeland.

      The declaration also has some teeth. The focus of Nirivia’s state of mind is a proclamation focussed on preservation of the island’s integrity. There are three objectives: multi-use recreation, no heavy resource extraction, and preservation for future generations. When one thinks of the uncompromising 1970s resource extraction polluters in nearby Red Rock and Terrace Bay, it is easy to see the degree of serious attention needed. Nirivia in the late 1970s received treatments in the Toronto Star, the Globe and Mail, National Geographic, Reader’s Digest, the Minneapolis Star, and others.[7] I asked Russ, now sixty-five years young, what he thinks of it all over thirty years later. His response? “Well, look what it created!”

      So what is Nirivia now? Beth Foster, Robin James, Liz Calvin, David Taylor, Margot Peck, and I experienced warm Nirivian hospitality. Russ and Sharon were generous with their time, and we enjoyed a very hot sauna and cold Superior swim. “Look what it created!” Glorious boating travel with well-forested islands, just enough safe harbours and pebble beaches, grand views out to sea, and an inland view peppered with islands and high forested hills.[8] It is a sea kayaker’s paradise … if the winds are calm and you have lots of time. The Nirivian state of mind would serve one well when travelling the many open water island hops out there: wait for the right weather, relax, take it all in, have a purpose, and don’t take it all too seriously. Russ was an exemplary Nirivian, and we felt blessed to be a small part of this inspiring Lake Superior story.

      What does the future hold for Nirivia? Russ mentioned many times that the idea was spawned from the carefree 1970s lifestyle. Today, the Nirivian elders who remain are Jim Stevens and Russ. Both live in Thunder Bay. Both see in their time out on the Nirivian islands a “true life.” Jim, when asked about the true life of the islands, spoke of the spiritual impact of the place. As for the Nirivians’ playbook, Jim said, “Out there, time goes with the sun.” There are about a thousand certified citizens who have been touched by the “true life.” Here we have another of Leopold’s assertions of liberty — a hobby well played. Nirivia, a time for a clear “demarcation between hobbies and ordinary normal pursuits.”

      The comfortable, well-hidden geodesic domes (built from the 1970s Whole Earth Catalogue) at the Nirivia home base are in good repair. The sauna is a gem. The land use permit is secure, and younger family members will carry on the torch.

      When the Nirivian founders claimed the islands, they did so as an “enchanted country” because it was there to be claimed. They did so for the environmental protection, with St. Ignace Island as the centrepiece. Now much of Nirivia is officially designated as conservation lands. The Nature Conservancy of Canada in 2013 acquired part of an island cluster just offshore from Rossport. The resource extraction industries along the northern Lake Superior coast have cleaned up their act from the 1970s. Volunteer groups are maintaining campsites and remote saunas.[9] And Superior country is generally still revered for its spiritual impact, as Jim put it. Well done Nirivian elders, and thanks to Russ (the King) and Jim (the Earl) of Nirivia for the kind hospitality and joy of sharing some of the “true life” with us sea kayaking seekers.

      A fitting way to close the Nirivian story would be to quote from the closing lines of the Nirivian national anthem, written by Nirivian citizen Norman Sponchia:

      And the flag of Nirivia flies over all souls.

      In the winds of Superior.

      When the waters start to roll

      The Nirivia spirit started to blow

      Oh Nirivia, the island nation of Nirivia.[10]

      If a fitting anthem for Wendell Beckwith’s Best Island were to have been written, it might go something like this:

      And the cabins of Wendell’s Best Islands fills our souls with imaginative stories.

      In the winds of Wabakimi when the waters start to roll

      One can take comfort in the Beckwith spirit.

      Oh Wendell, a radical hobbyist seeker of liberty.

      Thanks, Joss, for my important early introduction to seeking out remote people in remote places. It is a valuable life enterprise.