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(birds singing) (wind whispering) (mellow instrumental music) â™ª >> jordan: how do you know when you're home? british columbia is where we learned to move through the mountains...

...where we dreamt of elsewhere... (traffic din) ...of what was around the next corner... (snow crunching) ...and over the next horizon. a world apart... (tapping)

...but the same. it's springtime, and we've returned to make a traverse across bc's coast range. with three weeks of food and equipment packed, we're attempting to walk, ski, and float our way from the heart of the province, up and over the

icy spine of the coast mountains, to the salty inlets of the pacific. along the way, we're asking a not-so-simple question: how do you know when you're home? >> john: the coast mountains are the western edge of b.c. they're the last mountains on

north america. they're right next to the ocean. they get hammered by the wind and the storms. they're wet, misty, unknown, mysterious. they run from vancouver 1500 kilometers, all the way up the coast to alaska.

there's a dozen big ice fields all the way up the coast, sort of hidden away up at the head of all the long inlets. and the storms sort of sweep up there, and are pushed up onto these high peaks. they dump all their snow and form these big ice fields.

the coastal side is just bathed in lush rainforest, with moss hanging off everything. and the interior side, you've got sort of pine trees running up these high valleys back into the mountains. and in-between, there is just this range of peak after peak

after peak. roads only cross the mountains four times in their 1500-kilometer length. you know, when we first got the idea that we could do these kind of trips, you know, we'd go off on a 3-week trip like that, and we'd be literally the only

people in 1,000 kilometers of mountains out there skiing and doing something like that. (melodic instrumental music) (truck whooshes) >> jordan: to us visitors, the mountains on the horizon are vast wilderness. but we're travelling where the

tslhqot'in people have lived and moved across the land with the seasons, through the mountains to the pacific ocean for centuries. >> chief william: you know, they say-- our elders always tell us that when you're inside your mother's womb, you're already

learning the chilcotin way. because the mom is speaking chilcotin, the father is speaking chilcotin. home is language, home is culture, home is people. home is history, home is our drumming, our ceremonies. so home is a safe place.

you're angry because your mom and dad are not with you, you're with other children and you're trying to survive. and you're told that your language, your ways are wrong, you're told that this different religion is more important so that mass confusion over

generations creates abuse. we want to bring that home back. you know, we are repairing our home. we want to bring our home back. >> jordan: the chief tells us that he's spent most of his life battling for the land surrounding chilko lake,

the lake we're about to cross. two years ago, the supreme court of canada granted his people title to their land here, a place they've called home for centuries, a first in canadian history. >> chief william: we want to be able to use this land

so that we can hunt and fish and be able to use its resources to survive. and it's going to be a lot of hard work. we don't want to leave devastation to our next generation. so we're open to new ways.

to me, home is to be allowed to do that. >> jordan: b.c.'s wilderness has a history of attracting people to its edge, people who didn't find acceptance or fit into the society they came from, who needed more space, and found

home in the wild. it sounds like from everything you've told me that this place allows you to be roland? >> yeah, yeah, this is roland. this is a place where... well, okay, otherwise, if i would be somewhere else then i probably might be scared of myself.

because there's too many things which i don't like somewhere else. i am a peaceful person, so that's why, for me, there was the other way. i had to run. (vibrant country rock music) i wanted to be with the soil.

i wanted to grow a garden. i wanted just to go back to the basics, like build a basic home. this was not possible in germany, so this wish, coming to canada... this is possible here. and i basically could not get enough of it. 360-degrees mountains and

wilderness, and i thought, okay, that's it. i found the place. snow with no tracks, with nothing. the only tracks probably sometimes from animals. like, there was coyotes, there was wolves out there.

so this was, it was a totally new feeling. (country rock music finale) home, well, i can feel home everywhere, as long as i'm home with myself. but when you come back and you're back on the property and back in nemaiah and it's a

feeling, "okay, this is where i belong." home is being somewhere where i feel... where i don't have to be afraid. (boat gently clatters) (splashing) if it would work out that way, that i can stay here until i

drop dead, then that's where i'm going to drop dead. i don't want to end up in an old folks' place, eh? can you imagine? >> jordan: out of roland's boat, we begin our upward walk towards the icefield, and eventually, the pacific ocean.

we've got butterflies in our stomachs and five days of food on our backs, that will hopefully last until we reach the first of three air-dropped food caches. if each footstep isn't wisely placed through the next 13 kilometers of thick forest,

9 mile creek will chew us up. (mabel speaks other language:english translation on screen) (tense instrumental music) >> forrest: where are you going? >> chad: right through there. you (bleep) sucker. ugh. oh (bleep). i just about lost both my nuts.

(yelling) >> jordan: after the river nearly swallows forrest and almost steals his skis, and too many close calls teetering top heavy over sharp pointy things, we're looking forward to hitting the snow line before someone gets hurt.

chad's bear call masks the hunger pangs, having forgotten to pack his snacks for the first leg of the trip. (ripping) (rustling) (laughter) >> jordan: with a week's worth of food and 65 kilometres

of icefield ahead, there's an exhilarating freedom before us. self-contained vessels crossing an ocean. that's amazing when you realize you're the only person here, as far as you can look. >> man: when you wanna go for a

walk, you just keep on going. any direction you go it's just space... and nothing. nowhere, where there's nobody there besides you, it's just you, and then there's nature. and this is a totally different feeling. >> man 2: it takes you in

a different place. you know, our culture, people, it's all around when you're out there. you know, it's a different way of relating to the earth. and i've always been fascinated by that. you know, literally, when you're

out in the mountains, it doesn't matter what your name is. your names are just made up. there is no name. you know, words, all that stuff, it's stuff that we make up. and that, i think, is hard to find other places. >> there's kind of two sides

to it. you know, they say home is where your heart is. that's one side. and the other side is that... the earth is our home. and then, for me, i think that when you're coming home, that's sort of combining the two.

so it's when you're in a landscape that makes your heart sing, you just feel alive, and speechless at how incredible it is. for me, that landscape is mountains, that part of the earth, the coast mountains. and just being in it, i feel at

home and alive, and just sort of in awe of how incredible it is. (wind howling) you know, at some point in the traverse, you get up high and you can see a long ways, and maybe you can see way in the distance, and then you realize that you're

going to go way beyond what you can see. and you can look back and see where you've come from, and you can't even see where you started. i just love that. it makes you feel like you're right deep in the wilderness.

(melodic guitar music) >> man 3: i certainly don't feel like i'm in the middle of nowhere when i'm out there. i feel like i'm at home, so. but at the same time, there's also this sense of it's like you're on the edge of it, this great unknown.

you're sitting on the shore, and you're on the edge of the universe. you're not listening for anything. it's like being a kid at the beach. you don't-- it doesn't really matter if you find anything

under the rock. all right, here i go. it's just the excitement, the fact that you're listening, the fact that you're looking, that's what's important. â™ª i remember the way â™ª â™ª driving on ray â™ª â™ª spinning all the way â™ª

â™ª out in the rain â™ª â™ª i was rehearsinga part â™ª â™ª from down at the bar â™ª â™ª and i smelledlike a drink â™ª â™ª we were laughing,i think â™ª â™ª i've been away,i've been away â™ª â™ª i've been away â™ª â™ª do you pick upyour phone?e â™ª â™ª do you check your mail? â™ª

â™ª do you answeryour door? â™ª â™ª even if it's late? â™ª â™ª see, i don't knowwho to call â™ª >> skier: all right, i'll see you. â™ª i don't knowwho to write â™ª â™ª and i think i forgot â™ª â™ª what your facelooks like â™ª â™ª and do you thinki changed? â™ª

â™ª swear i never tried â™ª â™ª memory's a terrible thing â™ª â™ª when you useit right â™ª â™ª down at the bar â™ª (song finale) >> jordan: with two weeks of rock and ice in-between, we had walked from the interior pines toward the smell of coastal

hemlocks filling our nostrils. from our final food cache, we fueled up, grabbed our inflatable packrafts, and spent the day bushwhacking the 2,000 metre vertical to the southgate river below. >> man: and then when you come down to the coast, it all of

a sudden, hits you. the air is moist and everything is covered in foliage and leaves and greenery and moss, and you've got these huge hemlocks and fir and so on. it's just, everything feels the way it's supposed to. 'cause it's sort of like

it's an intimacy. you know, you're intimate with your home and where you live. if you go somewhere else, you don't have that intimacy. you know, you can appreciate it and it's beautiful, but when you're back home where you live, you know the feelings,

all these subtleties. you get to know them in a different way, and they become part of you. it's like spending time with someone you love. you just appreciate them for what they are. (frogs croaking)

(fire crackling) (bubbling) (river rushing) >> gisele: i think a lot of people know me as the woman that lived up in the middle of nowhere. and i was quite young when i went up there, and i guess i did

a lot of growing up there. so i became myself there. >> jordan: at the age 19, gisele, her brother, and a few friends left their home in the city of vancouver for the shores of bute inlet, the dramatic reach of pacific ocean that will mark our end point, a

40-kilometre downstream paddle. there, she learned to log trees by hand, fish, and hunt, and made just enough money to survive, finding home at the base of these mountains. >> gisele: it was an easy decision. i just was drawn there.

and once i went there... i was like, "this place is unbelievable. it's magnificent. i never want to leave!" and i stayed for a very long time. yeah. (gentle folk music:lyrics unclear)

yeah, i mean, every day was an adventure. it was like, "what do we get to do today?" we learned everything as we went. and it seemed to fit. it fit our appetite for adventure cause that's really

what we went there for. i mean, i still get fluttery chest when i come around that last corner. i still love seeing it, you know, the mountains unfolding in front of me. it's still like seeing it for the first time, every time

i go there. >> jordan: what does home mean to you? >> hmm. i know it still feels like home when i go up there. i don't think that will ever go away. i guess it's the memories.

good ones, bad ones. but that's a hard question! >> jordan: home is hard. crossing over the coast mountains took energy and time but yielded a familiar comfort. not the feeling you have when you're in the middle of nowhere but the feeling you have when

you're at the centre of something. one foot or paddle stroke after the other crossing this landscape was a reminder that our bodies and minds know it intimately--the rock and snow, the water and the names of the plants-- better than

anywhere else. >> chief roger william: home is language, home is culture, home is people. >> roland: home is being somewhere where i feel-- where i don't have to be afraid. >> john: it's when you're in a landscape that just makes

your heart sing. the earth is our home. >> gisele: i guess it's the memories. >> jordan: for some of us, it's that part of the earth and people we miss most. for some of us, it's that place we're always leaving and always

travelling towards. home is hard. but you know when you've found it.