First vanlife trip to Pikogan: more than just a destination

Some journeys become bigger than the destination itself.

Our first vanlife trip to Pikogan was one of them.

When we bought our van, it was already converted. We did not build it from scratch, but we spent many hours making it feel like our own. With the fir trees, the little details added over time, and the energy we put into it, we slowly transformed it into something that reflects Vie boréale.

The van became more than a vehicle. It became an extension of our way of life, our connection with the forest, and our desire to travel differently.

When we left for Pikogan, we felt a strong sense of freedom. We were especially excited to discover this part of Abitibi. We knew we would cross a vast boreal forest, similar to the one that surrounds us at home, and that the people there were welcoming. But for us, more than eight hours on the road meant a true first departure, a true first adventure.

The road to Pikogan gave us much more than a simple drive.

The landscapes were beautiful. All along the way, the boreal forest travelled with us, vast, quiet, and powerful. Lakes would appear around a bend in the road like perfect places to slow down.

We took time to stop by the water, breathe, and look at the land around us. Those simple moments, far from noise and obligations, gave real meaning to the journey.

Maybe that is what vanlife is about: being able to stop when a landscape calls to you, taking a few minutes to watch a lake, listen to the wind in the trees, and feel that the journey has truly begun before you even arrive.

• Freedom: leaving in our van without rushing, with the feeling of opening a new chapter.
• Nature: travelling through boreal forest landscapes that remind us of the importance of slowing down.
• Discovery: heading toward Abitibi with curiosity, respect, and wonder.

From the moment we arrived, the people of Pikogan welcomed us with great respect.

There was something warm about the atmosphere. A simplicity, an openness, and a way of welcoming people that touched us right away.

Our booth was set up near Molly and Edouar, a couple of artisans from Pikogan. Very quickly, they became much more than neighbouring vendors. We immediately connected with them as friends.

We spent the weekend with them. A Kokum and a Mushum who inspired us deeply through their presence, gentleness, humour, and way of living through their craft.

Like us, they make a living from their creations. But above all, they live through the people they meet along the way. That is exactly what carries us too.

Creating connections, listening to stories, sharing genuine moments, and feeling craftsmanship become a bridge between people — that is what nourishes us most deeply.

During that weekend, one sentence stayed with us.

Being an artisan is a way of life.

We all agreed. Being an artisan is not simply about making objects to sell. It means living, thinking, and organizing a large part of your life around craftsmanship.

It means waking up with ideas for new creations. Looking for the right materials. Preparing your booth. Taking the road. Telling the story behind each object. Meeting people who may leave with a creation, but also with a piece of history, culture, or emotion.

Looking at Molly and Edouar, Dave and I could see a little of ourselves in them. We imagined still being there forty years from now, attending Pow-Wows with stars in our eyes as we watched the dancers move across the arena and felt our hearts follow the rhythm of the drums.

That image touched us deeply.

Because, at heart, that is exactly the kind of life that feels like us.

Experiencing a Pow-Wow is something you feel far more than something you can explain.

From the first drumbeats, a distinct energy settles over the gathering. The rhythm moves across the grounds, brings people together, and seems to reach something deeply human in each of us.

The dancers enter the dance arena with pride. The colours of the regalia come alive in the sunlight, feathers move with every step, and the songs accompany the dance.

For a few moments, the rest of the world seems to disappear.

You forget the kilometres travelled, the obligations of everyday life, and everything waiting when you return. Only the present moment remains.

As we watched the dancers, Dave and I understood once again why Pow-Wows hold such an important place in the lives of so many people.

Pow-Wows are much more than cultural events.

They are places of transmission, gathering, and reconnection. You meet others there, but you can also meet a part of yourself.

For Dave, these moments are a living connection to his culture, his roots, and knowledge passed down from generation to generation.

For me, they are a reminder of the importance of slowing down, listening, and simply being present.

Several times during the weekend, we stopped to watch the dancers move across the grounds and listen to the drums resonate beneath the large tent.

Without speaking.

Because some moments do not need to be explained to be understood.

Pow-Wows have a particular way of reminding us who we are. They invite us to slow down, listen, observe, and feel. We come to meet others, but we often leave with a better understanding of ourselves.

Perhaps that is why, when the drums fell silent and the last dancers left the arena, we already knew we would return to Pikogan one day. Some experiences leave a mark that does not fade. This was one of them.

One of the greatest gifts of that weekend was meeting several dancers who came to us for dance sticks and Smudge Fans to complete their regalia.

For us, that is a tremendous source of pride.

Seeing a young dancer live their culture, wear their regalia with pride, and move confidently in their identity is probably one of the greatest forms of meaning our work can have.

At that point, the object is no longer only an object. It becomes a small part of a path, a dance, and a process of transmission.

If our craftsmanship can accompany a young person in their cultural pride, even in a modest way, then our mission is fulfilled.

These are the moments that remind us why we do all of this. The long hours of creation, preparation, travel, booths, and weekends away from home suddenly make complete sense.

This first vanlife trip to Pikogan gave us far more than what we had gone there looking for.

We left wanting to discover Abitibi, experience our first real trip with the van, and take part in the Pow-Wow as artisans.

We returned with hearts full of encounters, emotions, memories, and a new certainty.

This life on the road, these gatherings, the connections formed through craftsmanship, and this closeness to nature feel deeply aligned with who we are.

Pikogan will always be connected to our first major vanlife departure. The trip became a beginning, a confirmation, and an inspiration for what comes next.

We left Pikogan with full hearts. More than full.

We carried beautiful images with us, the memory of the drums, the beauty of the dancers, the warmth of the welcome, and the precious friendship of Molly and Edouar.

One thing is certain: we will return next year.

If for only one reason, it will be to see our new friends again.

Because in the end, the most beautiful journeys are not only made of roads, landscapes, and destinations.

They are made of the people we meet, the connections we build, and what those moments awaken within us.

What a beautiful journey.