Every year, the Pit River Indians run from Mount Shasta to Mount Lassen, covering 104 miles in two days. While most of the run is done in relays, there are some strenuous runners who run all the way.

“Look at Jet-Acu (Mount Shasta in Pit River language)” an elder man tells me. “Use Jet-Acu as a model. While it contains fire within, the higher up you go, the more snow you find”. And then he adds, “You do the same, keep your energy strong and your head as cold as snow.”

We spent the first night on the snow line of the great mountain. We gathered by the fire while one of our leaders tells us:

“This is a good fire, it keeps us warm. Let us be also like this fire, let us bring warmth to our community.”

Some kids looked at him from the corner of their eyes, realizing that this is a solemn occasion.

“Tomorrow we will run through our Ancestral Land,” the leader says. “Keep in mind that it was not always this way. Just some years ago, some of our people were arrested and harassed for participating in this event. So, tomorrow, as you run, remember that some of your ancestors have taken a stand for you, they have defended your right to be in this land.” The leader pauses and looks at the stars.

“We have stories of how this run began” the leader says “would you like to hear it?”

The kids nod in unison.

“Long time ago, the bear challenged the mountain lion saying ‘I bet you that I can reach that fire mountain faster that you’. The mountain lion said ‘I will get there before you do’. So, the first run began. The bear went one way; the mountain lion went the other. Until this day you can see the path that the bear took, for you will find the mark of his claws in the canyons of Big Bend. You can also see the path taken by the Mountain Lion, Burney Falls was the place by which the Mountain Lion climbed from the canyon. At the end, both runners got to Mount Lassen at the same time.”

After the story we sang four songs. We are told that doing things in order of four is one of the ways of the Pit River People.

The leader glances at the sky one more time. “This is the Mountain Lion’s sky. Tomorrow, as this sky touches the Bear’s sky we will begin our run.”

The night goes slowly while a cool breeze from the Mountain finds it’s way into the camp. One of our elders is sleeping in her car closed to her oxygen machine. Others will remain awake, fasting, preparing themselves for the run.

As the sky begins to clear, the howling of coyotes awakens most of the runners.

“Remember” another leader states, “this is not a race, it is a run. We do it to purify ourselves. We do it to cleanse ourselves so that we can better listen to the land, this same land that has given shelter to our ancestors, this land that has given us life.”

The staff, a stick covered with deerskin and eagle feathers is handed to one of the experienced runners. Then, with a growing group roar that echoes’s on the Mountain the run begins.

The pace is fast; still, some of the runners manage to sing as they run. After a while, their songs set the rhythm of the run and of our breathing.

We cross numerous creeks and rivers, following back-road trails. At times we come before emerald lakes, a beautiful green seems to be everywhere. Some elders pick up runners in their trucks as the relay takes place. During these pauses, the elders talk about the ancestral ways to the runners.

One of the elders says, “We come from people who never gave up. When our ancestors where sent to reservations, far away from this land, they escaped and they fought. Eventually they found their way back to this place.” There is a ring to his voice as he says these last words. He shakes his head while he looks at me and then, lowering his voice, he describes how for centuries the Pit River People were able to take care of their needs without any external help. Living in an area of 3.5 million acres, they lived from the land in a respectable way. The land was considered sacred. Those who respected the land were said to practice good “tiniho-wi”, that is, good medicine. He explains that the word also means “wild”, that is, in accordance to the land.

The elder man addresses me in my capacity of Director of the Pit River Health Services. “Our health decreased in proportion to the land that was taken from us. Large electric corporations, timber industries, and ranchers came into our land. They divided us taking advantage of the illiteracy of some of our people and our lack of knowledge of the system. The more they exploited the land the more impoverished we became. Survival, ever since, has become our task.”

The run continues and fatigue begins to set in. Still, the runners go on. As we cross small towns, people gather to see us run by. There is cheering from some of the spectators and waiving of hands by the runners. At one point, some runner’s jump into a lake to refresh themselves, others just put their heads into some waterfalls.

An elder nods as he sees us still running as the first stars appear in the sky. He says

“You kids are descendants of Capitan Jack, great leader of our people”. Later, he will tell me that Capitan Jack, the nick name of a Modoc Indian, lead the Modoc War of 1872-73, one of the most costly Indian campaigns engaged in by the United States. In the autumn of 1872, a band of Californian Indians were dissatisfied with their banishment to a reservation in Oregon. They were forced to share this reservation with other Indians of the area. During a clash with a body of the U.S. Cavalry near Lost River, several soldiers and citizen volunteers were killed and the victorious Indians escaped.

After raiding the adjoining settlement, they retreated to California and entrenched themselves in a natural lava bed fortress now known as “Capitan Jack’s Stronghold”. This rugged band of Indians numbering only 71 fighting men at their greatest strength stood off an army of 1,000 soldiers and volunteers for six months.

“And that wasn’t that long ago” the elder man tells me with a smile. As he looks at the stars he tells me “a century later, the Pit River fought for their land once again, this same land in which you kids run.”

We now arrive at the town of Burney, to the Pit River Community Center where we are going to spend the night.

With the light of a new day, we begin our second day of running. This time we are departing from Burney to Mount Lassen. Other runners have joined us and now we have over a hundred runners for the final part of the run. Some of these new comers are from the Modoc tribe, Shoshoni, Hoopa and other Tribes from the State of Nevada.

Angel Winn, one of the runners, sings a traditional song as we are running up a steep hill. The rhythm of the song matches our steps and carries us over the hill. At one point, we see some deer running across our path. “A good sign” Angel Winn tells me. “What is a bad sign?” I ask, realizing how hard it is for me to carry a conversation as I run. Angel Winn talks to me for a while, as if he is not even running. Then I learn that a Coyote is a bad sign, but only if he looks at me and howls at the same time. “What is worse than a Coyote?” I ask as we run down hill. “A two headed snake” he answers “but none of that is happening today” he assures me while he goes back to his song.

As I struggle to maintain my pace, I realize that Angel Winn, aside from running such an extraordinary distance, he is also a Bear Dancer, which means that, tonight, as we reach the camp, he is going to begin his dance which will go on, uninterrupted, for hours at a time.

Then we enter Lassen National Park. The National Park Services has worked with us and we have been able to overcome obstacles of the past. This time, the Ancestral Run finds U.S. Forest Service men and women cheering for the runners. Tourists at the National Park honked their horns while tired runners waved at them. A few minutes later I hear it for the first time. It is a distant sound of a drum. We keep running and the sound gets stronger as we run. Four miles later, we arrive at the base of the camp. Here, the sound of the drum is almost at its peak. Twelve of the elders of the community are beating this big drum. Radley Davis, one of the organizers of the run, indicates that we are going to run four times around the camp. Once we do that, we are to take our place in the circle. A circle of chairs has been prepared for us. We do as we are told, and then, the runner that carries the staff joins the circle of the elders, drops on one knee, and presents the staff to an elder who is sitting at the center of the circle. The elder is wearing a headdress made of eagle feathers. His right arm shakes a little as he receives the staff, there seems to be a silent dialog between the two men. A young man finishing the ancestral run, an elder man in a wheelchair receiving the staff, the young and the old coming together.

We take our places and, one by one, receive the salute of the elder. He takes a large Eagle feather and passes it by our head and shoulders. I don’t understand what he says. An elder tells me:

“Oh runners,

Let your hearts run with joy!

Blessed is him

Who gives it all?

For then

He can embrace

The Great Spirit.”

As I get ready to leave, I pass by the drum, the one that was played as we arrived to the camp. For a moment, as we were running, the drum set the rhythm of our steps, of all of our heartbeats. The drum became the heart of the community.

The drumbeat still resonates in my mind and with it the feeling that we can become all one.