"What's the big Idea?" I shouted to the driver of the nearest boat, “What do you guys want?"

"You're fishing in our waters" the answer was shouted.

Jim heard the reply and yelled back indignantly "We're NOT fishing!"

"Yeah, we don't have any lines in the water and there's not even any fishing gear on deck" I chimed in.

Jim's voice rose a few decibels as he added, “Hell, there's not even a fish hook on the whole damn boat you idiots!"

The raiding party had slowly stopped circling us during the exchange and now floated in a group off our starboard side, just out of swinging range of Cap'm Jim's boat hook.

"Are you guys sure you weren't planning on fishing?" A barrel-chested occupant in one of the boats asked skeptically.

“We already told you that we don't have any gear onboard. And even if we did it doesn't give you the right to roust us and scare the hell out of us" Jim responded.

"You're the one with no rights around here buddy! You're on Indian land!" shouted a skinny guy in a camouflage vest with a Remington Rifle patch sewn over the breast pocket.

"We're not on anybody's land- we're on the water!" Jim shot back tightening his grip on the boat hook.

"Hey look, we just stopped here because the wind died." I explained, "We were just going to have a sandwich and a couple a drinks and wait for the wind to come back before heading home. What's the big freakin' deal anyway? Since when do you guys have jurisdiction over the lake? I don't see any Canadian Coast Guard or Game Warden insignia on any of you."

"Since forever, that’s since when!" The skinny guy piped up again; "Our people have lived on this island and fished these waters before anyone else, and we…."

"The Council of Three Tribes has jurisdiction on the island and the surrounding waters" The resonant voice of his barrel-chested companion cut him off. He then proceeded to calmly explain that although it is part of Canada, Walpole Island, (Originally called Warpole Island because of the feathered war-poles the early tribal settlers would stick into the land and surrounding water to warn off interlopers) has been governed solely by the 'Council of Three Tribes' since the early eighteen hundreds, and has never really had any formal treaty with the U.S or Canada. "So we can, pretty much, do whatever we want to in and around the island." He summed up his rather lengthy answer to what I thought was my rhetorical question.

We were silent for a moment after the history lesson then Jim said, "Look guys we didn't come here to cause trouble, we just want to enjoy the peace and quiet until the wind comes up and then we'll go back where we came from." We just wanted to see what it was like up in this corner of the lake; we're Day-Sailors not Conquistadors."

"Well I guess we were a little hard on you but a lot of guys come here who don't respect our fishing rights and many of our people depend on fishing to supplement their income and to stretch their food budget.

If we don't vigorously protect our traditional rights we know that we'll lose them.So, as long as you aren't anchoring for the night and you’re not fishing we'll leave you alone - for now."

“Yeah, well thanks, but if you guys treat everyone who wanders in here like this you're going to kill a lot of tourism, which I assume is also a big factor in the island's economy." Jim said, still a little pissed-off about being rousted. "You might try a less traditional, less aggressive method of maintaining your coastal sovereignty than attacking innocent visitors."

"In our experience most visitors haven't been so innocent" Came the calm response, "But like I said we'll leave you alone for now but we'll be checking back to make sure you stay innocent." With that said, he spurred his engine into action, wheeled his boat around on its' transom and sped toward shore. The rest of his band emulated his actions and quickly disappeared up Chenel Ecarte into the interior of the island.

With the boat still rocking from the wake caused by their departure, Jim and I finished making our sandwiches and drinks. We ate with a minimum of conversation and as soon as we sensed the slightest breeze we set sail for home. It took an hour of sailing before we felt comfortable that we weren't being watched.

"Damn! I feel like Custer after the Little Big Horn." I said, as we rounded Seaway Island setting a course for home. I think it'll be a long time before we go back there."

"Oh I don't know" Jim countered, "That was a real nice anchorage. I give those guys a lot of credit for maintaining their independence and traditions for so long, but let's face it this isn't the Wild West. They use pickup trucks and powerboats not horses and canoes, their kids watch TV and listen to Rock music and hang out at the local pizza joint. They go to the hospital when they're sick and the movies when their bored. They're as much a part of today's world as we are."

"Yeah, I guess it is hard to keep traditions alive these days." I agreed.

"Yeah, but some sailing traditions just die hard, Cap'm Jim said, so why don’t I dig out some wine from my private stash we'll propose a toast."

"You mean Uncle Tino's Dago Red? Well… OK, but what are we toasting?" I asked.

"We're toasting a fellow sailor." He said, "Did you forget that today is Columbus Day."

Epilog:

In 1999 the Council of Three Tribes initiated the sale of seasonal fishing and anchoring permits for the waters of Walpole Island.

More information about Walpole Island history and current events can be found at:

http://www-personal.umich.edu/~ksands/Warpole.html