My plan started way before all the self-isolation and the craziness that erupted because of the coronavirus.

However, if there was ever a time to put the plan into action, now would be it. Last fall, I attended a traditional culture camp on my home reserve. It was held beside a lake, where I spent much of my childhood and currently reside.

The camp was held very close to where my grandparents held a camp over 50 years ago. It was nice to be that at part of the lake again, and it felt good to see the traditions of the Cree nation are being carried on and passed down to the younger generation.

The host of the camp and respected elders, Sandy and Barbra Goodswimmer, are skilled hunters, fisherers and gatherers. They have lived a sustainable life for a long time.

There were many people who attended this camp, but it was the youth that were inspiring. Parents and grandparents brought pre-teens and teenagers to the camp, so they would learn survival skills in the bush.

Having been raised on a Northern trap line, I recalled the lessons I learned from my dad and grandparents. This is where my idea of starting my own camp started, and this is what my plan is for this summer.

The only difference will be the camp is going to be just for me and a couple of rez dogs I plan to take with me. Being in the bush is where I find peace; a place my sense of freedom takes control.

This is not the first time I decided to pack up and set off on an adventure. I was employed at a place where I did not take any days off for a very long time. Finally, my supervisor forced me to take three weeks off for which I would be getting paid.

I wondered what I was going to do. I talked to Jacqui, my partner at time, and she encouraged me to do something I really wanted to do. She knew I love camping and suggested I do that.

Then, I thought about Henry. When I worked as a television news reporter, I met a gentleman who lived way up in Northern Saskatchewan. I got to spend five days with him when I was doing a story on how he lived off-grid in a log cabin he had built.

He was a fluent Cree speaker, and he would tell me stories under the midnight stars by a camp fire.

I got to meet some of his direct relatives who lived in La Ronge. Since Henry rarely left his trap line, it was up to his relatives to check in on him and bring any supplies he might need. I decided to phone them in La Ronge to find out if Henry was still up North.

I was happy to hear he was still hanging on. I decided I would take some of this holiday time to go and visit him. But instead of driving, I would hitch hike. I had one of those giant green military backpacks, which I filled to capacity with the supplies I would need. I also had two small duffle bags for added supplies.

I started off in Saskatoon and it was not long before I walked across Prince Albert to catch another ride. From there, I made my way to Île-à-laCrosse and eventually to a cutline that went towards Henry’s cabin.

Being in the bush with an old friend gave me a sense of freedom. After about a week with Henry, I decided I was going to hitch hike all over the North. Everyone I met was nice. I would not encourage anyone to go hitch hiking, but I never had any problems.

There was even a couple who offered to take me home for supper. But I am sure it was because people in remote Northern areas help each other. I would get dropped off in the middle of nowhere as my ride had to drive into a trap line or a logging camp. This is when I set up my own camp by water. I zig zagged all over the North and right into Alberta. Eventually, I made it back home to Saskatoon. It took a while to get back into city life.

My camp with my two rez dogs will be far enough into the bush, where I could bring notebooks and do what drives me: writing. I won’t take a cell phone or any form of communication.

But I might bring a small transistor radio for entertainment. When I find peace and contentment I find myself living.

-Ken Noskye