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Sunday, September 28th Cathedral Grove

Wilma was scheduled to meet with Gloria to give her the details regarding the ownership structure for the transfer of park lands. It was a three hour drive from Port Alberni to Victoria; she gave herself plenty of time for the stop she wanted to make. Climbing towards Arrowsmith Pass, she began to reflect on the meeting her grandfather had called with the leaders.

They had unanimously agreed that there would be no communal holding of all the land – that would only perpetuate the system of power and control by a few, but things got a little more complicated after that. It was decided that they would break up into working groups – and discuss for one hour – some of the ways that this could be done, then the groups would tell everyone their ideas. The idea of parsing the lands via population and proximity had surfaced in all the groups, in one form or the other, and they agreed that may be the best alternative.

Harry, anticipating the need, had brought 20 copies of a large map that showed the parks on the island. New groups were formed – geographically. Those from the north part of the island looked at the parks on the north end. Harry had kept them all on the path they needed to be on.

She rounded the curves easily, having travelled these roads so many times in her life. Dropping over the crest of the pass, she pulled into the parking area of Cathedral Grove. The giant thousand-year-old trees that stood watch over Cameron Lake welcomed her as she walked silently between them. Wilma had always found strength in this place, and had come here often to clear her head and listen to the trees; they had always been there for her.

She sat on a fallen cedar and looked around at the park. Her request, her only one, had been that MacMillan Park, in which Cathedral Grove stood, become hers. The park itself was not much bigger than the grove, the whole thing perhaps three square kilometres, but it was what she wanted, and they agreed. She knew that some of the people would have to harvest a portion of the trees on their newly acquired lands – just to survive – until they could build businesses. ‘The giants of the Grove are mine now,’ she laughed to herself, ‘as much as anyone could own these trees, that is.’ As long as Wilma Thorn was alive, those trees would stand.

Again, her thoughts drifted back to the meeting. Three of the smaller groups that lived in one area discussed forming an alliance to hold title jointly. A spokesperson for that alliance had come up to Harry and asked if it was okay to do that. Harry had told him that he didn’t need anyone’s permission to do anything, anymore.

After the ownership issues had been decided, the discussions turned towards survival. The primary concern was, would there be work after the initial build projects were complete? Harry had told them that there would be a shortage of skilled labour in Victoria, Nanaimo, Campbell River and Port Hardy for some time. If any of their people were interested in pursuing that route they should start working now towards that goal. "How do we suggest they do that without telling them what’s happening?" Simon had asked.

"Find a way," Wilma had replied. "Perhaps start the unlikely rumour that there will be massive U.S. grants if the Province becomes a State. There are enough rumours flying around these days – that one will just be added to the pile. If others think we are silly enough to believe it, that could give us the cover we need to take these necessary first steps." It hit them again; the enormity of what was happening, and the fragility of it all. She knew that it wasn’t possible for everybody to keep this secret, but if the knowledge could be kept in control, for just long enough…..

She looked up at the sun through the barely visible tree-tops. Time to go. She stood and stretched, then returned to her car to continue the journey. By the time she reached Nanaimo for the swing south to Victoria, she looked forward to the meeting. After an hour, Wilma had slowed to the pace of the traffic that always seemed to spawn around Goldstream Park. Families had stopped along the way for picnics on the roadside tables under the towering pines. Family.
Ben Thompson, a leader from Ucluelet, had asked, "What about my sister and her family over in Saskatoon? Can I invite them to come to be part of this?" It was a good question.

The four of them, Hank, Gloria, Elliot and Wilma had discussed the issue for a very long time. What would be the new country’s immigration policy? Would the Island suddenly find itself with 30 million people on it? It was decided that anyone with established ties to the island would be welcome. Along with current island residents, those who worked here but lived on the mainland or those who owned property on the island but lived elsewhere, were welcome to be part of the new country. But - and it was a big but - new residents will need to find work and support themselves, just like the existing residents. In the same manner, any currently on the island that would rather ‘live on the dole’ should exit to the mainland, and quickly. Nations only have the ethics they can afford, Gloria pointed out.

Wilma had answered Ben Thompson’s good question by saying "You can bring in anyone you want or need to help you with your plans. Just make sure you can feed them and take care of them, or that they can feed and take care of themselves. There will be plenty of food to buy – and plenty of housing available – but all will have to be paid for, with money earned through working. This isn’t going to be easy, but we haven’t had it easy for a long time. The harness is off, we can rise to our own potential – and we will have to. We have children to feed and we will be the only provider."

Wilma drove through the security gates of Shoal Point and headed for the guest parking area. She was ready.