All agreed that the expedition had been well thought out.  None expected that things could go so wrong. There were three skiffs, loaded with trading goods from all four Clans.  The experienced negotiators who crewed the skiffs were Cranberry, a thirty one year old artisan and toolmaker from the Bog Clan and Snail, a thirty five year old carpenter and hut builder. He had a working knowledge of where the slower currents were on the Skeena River where, he was born.  The third member young, new to the trading game; but Shale crewed with Razor on his ship, and was there for his seamanship skills.  His wife Linnea was pregnant and he had promised to make it back for the early fall when their first child was due to be born.

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They loaded up with trade goods, fastened their tarps and left from the Skeena Clan Village with trade goods from many different folk, memorizing individual requests.  Their plan was to return in early autumn, arriving in time for the Limpet Clan Gathering.  Each poled and rowed a skiff loaded with razor clam shells, fish hooks, tools, cedar and kelp ropes and lacings, axes, hatchets and all manner of cutting tools, limpet shells prized as rainproof headwear, sea salt, dried eulachons and shellfish meat. They had it all, and more, all carefully packed and tied into each skiff.  Each load was covered with a waterproof tarp made from deerskin and oiled with cottonwood resin. They hoped to come home with medicinal herbs for Fern and the healers, dried meat, acorns from the south, nuts, tubers and berries unknown to the north coast forests, tools, and much more.  They had left mid-summer, their objective being the Exchamsiks Clan Village up the Skeena River.  If things went well, they might go as far as the Kalum Clan; but that would depend on timing. They would need to leave at least two weeks for their return voyage.

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The river was not at its full height at this time of year. Sandbars and cottonwood islands sprung up creating back eddies that offered a safe route for creatures of their diminutive size. But it was a tough go upstream.  They mostly paddled or poled their way forward.  But when the current became too fast for them, they had to land their skiffs, harness ropes to their backs and physically pull their boats up river one by one, heaving with all their combined strength, boat by boat, through each rough patches.  At the same time they had to keep an eye out for ravens, gulls and eagles, who found them to be a tasty treat.  If they saw a hunting bird they headed for a sandbar or shore, and there, covered themselves with a woven cedar tarp.  This camouflaged the tiny folk and their skiffs as debris washed up on these stony islands or river banks. They rowed and poled slowly at first, awakening the muscles that were needed for such strenuous work.  By the third day, they were broken in.  Cranberry knew where to find the slow water but there were many open patches.  They just kept at it, rowing and poling upstream. 

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They set up camp each night on a stony sandbar.  There they pulled the skiffs up, tied them securely to the giant beached trees and tree roots that littered the temporary islands and cooked up dinner. Then they'd sit around the fire telling tales of past journeys, Shales eyes wide with wonder.  Then they'd sleep, the deep sleep of the hard worker, wrapped in their warm furs, dreaming of home.  They wanted to push hard so that they would return, as promised, Shale reminded himself, in time for the Gathering.

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After about three weeks of hard poling and rowing they arrived at the large columnar rocky cliff that marked the mouth of the Exchamsiks River, and poled their way up the clear turquoise, glacial stream to the village.  Old friendships and partnerships were rekindled by the older Cranberry and Snail, and new ones made with the younger Shale. News of other clans was shared and stories told before the negotiations began.  A group of traders had just returned from the Kalum Clan and so the variety of possible trade items offered by the Exchamsiks folk was wide indeed.  After a few days of haggling and negotiating their trades, a task Cranberry particularly excelled at, with Snail as his side man.  Shale looked on, learning the ways of a trader.   Then they packed up their newly acquired trade goods and headed homeward; downstream.

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Getting home was not just a matter of steering the skiffs while the river current took them home.  The Skeena is not called ‘mighty’ without reason. The open, deep, glacial stretches of water they had struggled with on the way upstream were just as dangerous going downstream.  On those patches, they would need to stay close to the fast rivers’ edge, until they once again found the slower moving back eddies of the river, carved out through the grey stony sandbars.  The Skeena is very wide as it finally meets the ocean, and it was important to stay close to the Northern shore. This was not only because the Limpet Village was located there; traders that landed on the Southern shore of the Skeena had a bad habit of never being seen again.  No one knew what happened to them, although that did not stop constant speculation around many a campfire.  They all knew it was wise to avoid the Southern shore nonetheless.

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At the river’s mouth there would be tides to deal with.  At high tide, the ocean water pushed hard against the strong river currents that were trying to escape the river, the two currents fighting for supremacy. The ocean usually won, flooding the river banks with salty water. This made for a dangerous situation for the uninitiated.  That’s where Shales’ knowledge would come in.  He knew those tides, and he knew the mouth of the river.

So they began; poling and rowing, downstream; homeward bound.