Reclaiming Nch’ḵay̓
The Squamish Nation asked the Province to replace the name of Mount Garibaldi with its original name in the Squamish Language
Indigenous place name recognition is vital to honour Indigenous heritage and advance reconciliation.
On August 30, 2015, the Obama administration announced they would replace the name Mount Mckinley with its Indigenous name, Denali. The name is based on a Koyukon word for ‘high’ or ‘tall” On December 11, 2009, the Province of British Columbia replaced the name the Queen Charlotte Islands with Haida Gwaii, which means “islands of the Haida people”.
As Kwantlan writer Robert Jaggo stated on social media, “Whenever the media reports on a name change, I wish they would give the context of how often name changes happen in this country so that people stop overreacting... In 2019 - 750 names were added. One hundred were changed.
Our map changes every 8 hours - has for a long time.”
In 2022, the Squamish Nation quietly worked with the Province of British Columbia to request that Mount Garibaldi - a dormant stratovolcano in the Garibaldi Ranges of the Pacific Ranges in southwestern British Columbia - have its name replaced with the original name known to the Squamish People. For thousands of years, we’ve called this place Nch’ḵay̓ or Ch’ḵay̓. Recently, it came to light that the Province is asking for comment from local governments like the District of Squamish.
“Nchḵ’ay̓ is the Squamish name for Mount Garibaldi in Squamish and the tallest mountain in our territory that our ancestors tied our canoes onto to survive the flood.”
There have been many documented versions of the Squamish People’s history of our connection to Nch’ḵay̓. But in the interest of making this fun, here’s the story of Nch’ḵay̓ written in the style of an epic legend:
In the long ago, when the world was veiled in icy shroud, the Squamish People, by history’s whispers, were abound. Nchḵ’ay̓, a sacred sentinel, stood proud and tall, A testament to Squamish legacy, a saga to recall.
In times long past, an age of frost and churning seas, a deluge vast, like nature’s wrath unleashed with ease. The Great Flood, spawned by the last ice age’s chill, covered the land, with a destiny to fulfill.
Amid the chaos, where waves and waters did collide, two mountains, like ancient sentinels, did not hide. Nch’ḵay̓ and its silent companion’s grace due south, pierced the flood’s surface in that treacherous chase.
The Squamish People, brave and wise, in dire straits, sought refuge ’neath the endless skies. To Nch’ḵay̓’s refuge, they hastened without dismay, their fate entwined with this sacred mount, they’d stay.
With canoes in hand, they ventured ‘cross the flood, their spirits bound, their determination stood. Woven cedar bark, their lifeline and their guide, a rope of strength, against nature’s raging tide.
Securely tethered, they defied the watery might, as the floodwaters raged, in the dark and endless night. But as the days waned, the flood’s fierce reign did cease, a vast, serene lake, a testament of nature’s release.
Upon the shores, where once their homeland lay, the Squamish People found solace on that fateful day. Nch’ḵay̓, their guardian and their kin, had sheltered them through turmoil, their home to win.
Thus, a legend etched in time, of courage and devotion, Nch’ḵay̓’s glory, an eternal, sacred notion. The Squamish People, bound by history’s sweet refrain, refound their home, in the forever shadow of the mountain’s reign.