Mike W. Bryant
Northern News Services

Fort Simpson (June 03/02) - Steven Cli deplores the fact so many young people have lost touch with the land.

"I talk to young people," says Cli. "Trying to get them out of town is the hardest part.

"They're just into drugs and drinking. If they can't bring it with them into the bush, then it's hard to get them out. They just want to stay in town and do nothing."

It's not a problem for Cli. He has been boating on the river since he was nine years old, and every chance he gets he heads out onto the Mackenzie.

In the summer, Cli helps his family run the North Nahanni Wilderness Lodge.

He wonders whether all the excitement over the proposed oil and gas pipeline down the Mackenzie will translate into real benefits for the Dene people.

"To me, they want to put the pipeline into our land, but they have done nothing for us," says Cli.

"They say they're going to have jobs and stuff for us, but you need an education to go work for them, and that's another problem."

It's his personal goal, he says, to make sure his son, Sabowa, learns what his parents and other elders have taught him.

"What I'm going to do is teach my son to live off the land," says Cli, "to keep the tradition going."

On May 25, he had hoped to take a trip 100 kilometres down the Mackenzie River to visit some relatives, people still living a traditional lifestyle.

Spring arrives

He never made it to his cousin Alfred's camp.

A fresh swath of ice from Great Slave Lake drifted ominously along the Mackenzie's north shore most of the day.

Instead, Cli stuck to the south shore, going as far as he could, searching for beaver and any signs the fish might be running.

Cli only lands one beaver, but it's still a nice night. Spring finally seems to have arrived.

On the river, fleeting pockets of warm, summer air strike the boat intermittently.

At the mouth of the Marten River, sprinkles of green dot the hill above.

The birch trees are sprouting leaves. All the more welcome after a frustratingly long winter.

"It's only my second time on the river this year," laughs Cli. "It's taken so long for the river to break."

Hunting for beaver

Cli releases the throttle shortly after he enters the mouth of Shale Creek. He takes aim with his .22, and fires at a gently gliding ripple in the water near the shore.

Bull's-eye. Cli shot the beaver straight through the back of its head. Its tail flaps limply at the surface as he idles the boat towards it.

"Grab it by the legs!" Cli shouts over the motor. As the beaver is pulled out of the creek, it recoils, and it plunges back into the murky water.

"They won't bite you if you grab them by the legs," Cli chuckles, reaching forward to take care of the deed himself.

Beavers are so docile, he says, that otters will hunt and kill them.

Regardless, it is a large animal. Maybe 20 kilograms or more. Big enough to take a chunk out of a person's leg.

"It's got a lot of fat on it. The beavers are good in the spring," says Cli, stroking its fur.

He was hoping to get one tonight. It's the favourite food of his parents, Leon and Eliza.