Filling up the Reservoir

My grade seven student and I drove into Lillooet this morning for a district-wide "Empower Her!" conference for grades 7, 8 and 9 girls. We had a great day mingling with our friends (me seeing some teacher friends from around the district, and she linking up with some other students her age from neighbouring communities). She and I have also been working together on a photography self-study, and we stopped to take some pictures along the road back.

Carpenter reservoir is filling up with spring run-off. The Bridge River used to come all the way up past Gold Bridge until a couple of dams halted it. There are stumps and tree debris all the way along the lake bottom, which make for an interesting subject juxtaposed with the silty sand and turquoise water. Enjoy!

Preparing

There is a small part of me that has started saying goodbye to this home I have made, even though I still have two months left until I take flight. I linger a little longer on the view of the sun cresting Mount Sloan, spend an extra moment looking across at the red canyon walls, listening always to the river in the throat of town.

It's busy here too, the trucks frequent and fast, the run of rivers project back into full swing, logging up in Bralorne, power line clearing, brush clearing. All the rooms in town are taken until the weather turns back into winter, and prospectors are trolling for vacant space to house their workers as brazenly as the town crows pick open coolers left in the back of pickup trucks. Certainly an interesting shift to behold in a place like this.

This past weekend I went into sorting mode, parsing out those items on loan from friends or borrowed from the library and never returned (no late fees here). Went through the closets, my drawers, amazed at all this "stuff" one can accumulate when we stay in one place for a while, especially when the place is a large multi-bedroom home, and I am a frugal spender and thrift shopper at that. It makes me think of a statistic I have heard many times in the past few years: that 99 % of the things we buy will end up in a landfill. Before I start a rambling tangent on this topic let me switch gears.

I have been doing a ton of writing, and had the realization about a week ago that I have been in the process of writing a book for years. I have been filling up notebook after notebook since leaving the city, and have yet to take the time to go back to read through them all to search for the story I am trying to tell. Thankfully whenever I have taken some time to peek back I have been pleasantly surprised, but still, there's a long slog of work awaiting my perusal.

They say one's first book is always an autobiography of sorts, and an author I met the other weekend said there is a genre called "fictional autobiography"; that's what I'm writing, which is an easy way to say that it will be about me, somewhat, with some made-up stuff thrown in there too. I'm still in the process of writing to find out what I am writing, if that makes any sense. I imagine a structure will start to emerge once I spend the time looking over the puzzle pieces that I have so far, and that's what I plan to do as my job once the school year ends. And I'm going to pay myself to do it with my little bit of savings, because I believe.

The more I consider my options over the next phase of my life, the clearer it becomes in my mind that the time is now to write. Ever since I was a little girl I have been fascinated by the world around me, and have yearned to record what I witness in words. And now is the time. The only time. I've paid off my debts, have a little savings, am free from a contracted position, have a reliable vehicle to gypsy around in. I'd like to see some of the nooks of B.C. while I'm at it. How will I know where I want to settle down if I don't scope out some of my options first? Just not the city. Everything else is fair game.

So yes, to write it is and has been lately. To write and write.

It has been cold here over the past week, and incredibly windy. I love the dramatics of a gusty windstorm, the unexpected upheavals rushing by like hammer strokes, turning the air calm in between. Have been walking with Hunter in the evenings, and generally enjoying having this house to myself with only the sounds of the wind against the windows, the wood popping in flame from within the stove, and the fridge humming itself on and off with a certain regularity. This has certainly been an adventure.

Things at the school are drumming along with the ease of spring. I find that things hit a wonderful rhythm in the classroom in the last couple of months of the year: routines are ingrained, relationships have been built, foundations laid. And it's spring, so outside we go more than we did during the cold winter months.

The students hosted another great tea party this past week. We have been having them monthly, and what a great way to get shy students and community members interacting! There is usually a theme or activity, and last week it was staining the bat boxes that a generous member of the community built for the students. We also made quiche to serve to our guests, which went well with the fraction unit we are studying in math.

Spent the April 20-21 weekend in Lillooet attending the Rivershed Society of B.C.'s annual forum. It was great to re-connect with the two Lillooetians who went down the Fraser River with me last summer, and to meet new faces who may be on the trip this year. Met a couple of authors which was incredibly inspiring and gave me just the direction I was looking for at this point in my process. I always love when the universe links things up like that: a very serendipitous meeting of minds. On the Saturday night there was the Planet Peace Cafe in honour of Earth Day, a night replete with performances of all sorts: guitar, a cappella singing, poetry and story reading, skits. The performances went on until midnight and I was completely inspired by the talent. Next year it's my goal to get up there to sing a few songs, and I've been practicing guitar all week inspired by the creative energy.

Well, my house is super clean which is great. Vacuumed and swept this evening while some leftovers heated up in the oven. It takes a ton of energy to keep up with a house and yard of this size, in addition to everything else I squeeze out of a day. Feels good to have that out of the way so that I can be ready to play outside when the weather warms up again. And it'll give me more time to write. Speaking of which, my notebook awaits. And thank you, dear reader, for spending the time reading my meandering updates.

Freedom

The thermometer reads 18 degrees, and even though I am in the shade on my back porch it takes only a thin blanket around my legs to shelter me from the cool of the breeze that flutters and whirls at the tag on the end of the string dangling from my mug of sweet tea.

I spent a long time sitting out here last night in the calm midnight air watching the clouds ripple over the half-full moon like waves across a vast, glowing ocean. It was quiet then, and is now, though the motel and hotel in town are fronted by a stiff row of trucks each evening, which convoy off to their various industry jobs on the outskirts of town at dawn: the Jamie Creek power project, logging, and variations under these umbrellas. Hotels have had to turn lots away; there is just not enough room here, and no one to build more for jobs that are only in town on temporary terms.

The men live in trailers outside of town too, as I noticed while Hunter and I walked along the start of the Hurley road, into the barren hills where Sanford is buried.

Looking out over the landscape of the claim, which is now an area to be used for gravel for the power project. When I first moved here it was forested.

I have found myself once again giving to the push and pull of unknown trails, being led this way and that into places I have never walked. There is an ease and freedom that comes from walking with a dog at one’s side, from setting out to simply walk, from not having anywhere in particular to be.

This time we walk on the other side of the river, the grass at the edges of the river dry and brittle, breaking like thin twigs underfoot. We need rain, but there is not much sign of it coming. The dryness leaves the landscape brown and fallow, the new shoots awaiting a dense drink before they begin reaching for sky. In places along the path the ground is dotted with the holes where squirrels have come back for their stores of food, and in a sandbank there are holes where some type of bird has made a home.

Although we don’t find Sanford’s grave today, I like this, walking in a new place, and the feeling dances itself around the walls of my insides. Freedom. When I walk I feel free.

Last night I hosted a little impromptu jam session: three guitars and three locals in my living room. We banged on the drum a little, used the percussion around the house, and they sang out country songs about beer and women and finding happiness in the simplicity of life as I strummed away the chords along with them on my guitar. And then I went to watch the clouds.

This afternoon I am heading into Lillooet for the weekend for the annual Rivershed Forum. I’m looking forward to seeing some familiar faces from last summer’s river trip, and to finding out more about my own role and responsibility for the trip this year. I’ve also put together a little slideshow to present about my own experiences traveling down the river.

I’ve been writing too, and everything seems to be falling neatly into place, as it seems to when we trust that little intuitive urging inside ourselves. Not long now until I am back on the road again, but until then I can turn to the seat I sit in now, still, simple and comfortable, and I can listen to the quiet of this town with the wind through the trees, and the river reaching its voice from the depths of the valley. For now this is my home, and what a wonderful place of discovery it is.

River Walker

Over the past week I have been spending a large amount of time walking along the river. Something has drawn me to its shores, as if I wish for the mental chatter in my head to be wiped clean by the rush of water over smooth stone. And now with my new walking partner, Hunter, I am once again free to cruise what I call "cougar canyon" after a local told me that he has seen a cougar on the rocky bluffs each time he has walked there, "but they don't get very big," he reassured me, "a one-hundred eighty pound cat is rare around here."

Hunter and I have been beaching it whenever we can :) This one's beside the old Haylmore site.

Here's Hunter.

And one further down the canyon which is always full of animal bones. I call it "kill beach" for dramatic effect.

Late last week I also went for a walk with Sanford's owner, which was liberating for my soul. We walked a favourite walk that Sanford and I used to take, along an old road leading up to an abandoned mine portal now even more shut off from the outside world from rockfall after this year's thaw. It was nice to reminisce a little, and hopefully to ease a little of his guilt over a situation that he had no way of predicting. He also asked if I had my neck x-rayed. BRILLIANT! Why had I never considered this before? I'm heading into Lillooet on Friday for the 3-day forum put on by the Rivershed Society of B.C., who hosts the Sustainable Living Leadership Program, and I plan on seeing a Doctor there to discuss the option. It would be nice to know if anything strange is going on in there, as it still bothers me for at least a small portion of each day.

This weekend I had some visitors stop by the house, which is wonderful. A couple of friends stopped  in on a lazy Saturday, me still in my pyjamas at noon.

I also had my friend Phora come up to visit from Lillooet for the night, and we went on a SERIOUS hike on Sunday. We went up the Hurley River from Gold Bridge, at first following the old road Sanford and I used to walk before the mountain slid it away and we had to make our own path. We hopped between rocks on the river shore when we could, and bushwhacked when the river left us no ledge on which to stand.

The beginning, Phora and her girl Taya when the road is easy to follow...

There was one point when we had to scale a ledge beside the river, which was not dangerous in itself, for the fall was a mere foot into the water, but it would have been an uncomfortable rest of the walk if this had befallen us. The road disappeared completely in many sections, and then it would miraculously reappear, rock walls covered over in moss, old camps left in ruin. There was even a cabin and green bus across the river from us, and we wondered how the people would have made it over there. How fun it would be to explore the other side!

Getting a little harder to follow, but not much...

Hikes like this remind me of why I live out here.

Finally it seemed that we should head up away from the river and towards the high stretch of road that leads to Bralorne. We walked up and up and up climbing over deadfall, with me wandering ahead to scout out a safe route that avoided the cliffs.

Here comes Phora.

Almost at the road. You can't tell in the picture, but at this point it has started to snow!

When we finally made it up to a view of Mount Sloan, it started to snow, and in the faint distance as we sat down to eat a few segments of orange we heard a moving vehicle. We walked the few hundred yards higher, and as I climbed up the embankment and onto the road a man in a huge truck stopped.

"You okay?" he asked when his window had slid all the way down.

"Yes," I said breathless, for I had heard him coming and wanted to make sure I caught him. "We just hiked up the canyon from Gold Bridge. Do you think you could give us a ride home?"

He was happy to fit us all in, and just like that we were snaking down the steep hill towards town. It was 4:30 pm when we were picked up, and 11:30 am when we left. How thankful I am to have a friend like Phora who appreciates hikes that the majority of the population would find punishing.

We were home soon eating spaghetti and garlic bread before she left on her drive home and I settled into an evening of reading and writing. Ahhh this is the life :)

For Michelle

A painting I made for my middle sister. The light is a bit too bright to see all the details in green along the bottom of the painting, but this was the best representation I could get after trying a number of different things.

Enjoy!

A single flower in detail.

Spring Texture

Encounters since Last Time

Happy spring everyone! We had what the locals call the “usual heat wave” here, which has now dissipated back into cooler weather. Did not make the mistake of putting any of my wood away early this year as I did when I was new to the area last season; I’m still lighting a small evening fire when I get home from work to take the chill from the corners of this vast house.

I’ve taken a bit of a break from technology lately, and have been spending my free hours in conversations with like-minded people, and between the folds of books. I’ve also been trying to keep up daily journaling, checking in with the self, figuring out the direction to take next by looking deeply at where I stand and at where I have come from.

Not sure if I mentioned it before, but have been reading a lot of Dr. Gabour Mate’s work, and was especially intrigued by his book When the Body Says No, which is, in a very simplistic rendering, about how people who take on too much of the stresses of life can come down with illness and disease. I think I saw a lot of myself in its pages, and related it to my own bouts of illness. It made me consider how much of an impact our mind truly has on our physiological health, a connection that is often neglected in the science of medicine. We sometimes forget that our body is an integrated system that functions as a whole unit, just as we sometimes forget that the world is more complex than the parceled subjects of school allow.

Have had a couple of packed weekends since my last update. Was at my best friend’s wedding this weekend down in the city. He’s a guy, and I was his best WOman. Have never been in a bridal party before, and that aspect was very fun. He had four other groomsmen, which included his two brothers, a childhood friend I too have known since kindergarten, and one of my long-time ex boyfriends from my early twenties who has remained a close friend. It was a beautiful ceremony, casual and tasteful, and my speech was a complete hit. I think this is partly due to all our friends in the crowd who were laughing at all the right spots, and thanks to my sister and mother for their invaluable input. Public speaking. Certainly a stress-producing activity!

I’m currently reading a book called Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway! by the late Susan Jeffers, which relates a lot to the whole public speaking thing. It’s also a very positive addition to my reading list, as I am about to embark on some big changes in my life, yet again. I’m mentally preparing myself to lift my roots from this place, and it feels like the right thing for me to be doing. I long for an alternative lifestyle that I haven’t completely found yet. I’m considering the other options for someone with their teaching degree—options not necessarily within the government-run education system—but also other options entirely. I have a strong faith in my ability to find a job too, which is helpful when considering a bout of unemployment.

And the writing. Always the writing knocking on the door of my conscious mind.

A couple of weekends ago I went on a nice ski tour hike with my close friend who had moved away this winter to work. He was back for a couple of weeks to visit, and it was nice to have someone whose main focus in the backcountry was skiing rather than sledding. I know I will always have friends here in the valley, and this is a comforting thought while prepping my heart to fly elsewhere.

Instead of rushing back to the city for Easter, I went to a party in the Yalakom valley, which is an absolutely amazing community about an hour towards Lillooet. It was started as a commune in the 70s and is now in its third generation, and parties are filled with people of all ages, fantastic cooking, and always wonderfully eclectic and enlightening conversation. This is the type of community I seek to know more about, and I have a feeling that B.C. hosts many alternative communities like this if I take the time to find them. And many alternatively-run education programs.

I also had an astrological reading by someone who came highly recommended by close friends of mine who believe strongly in our mystical connection with the universe. Yeah, yeah, I’m sure some of you are rolling your eyes as you read this, if you’re still with me, but the more I connect with nature and with myself, the more mystical I am becoming. As far as I am concerned, what we get over the internet about our sign is such a thin sliver of the dynamically complex alignment of the planets, the sun and the moon at our birth. It is a blanket summary of only the sign under which we were born, and tells us nothing of the other planetary interactions that integrate to form a small part of who we are.

It was totally fascinating, and I am still integrating the information. The astrologer knew things about me that  were uncanny, and has a background in Jungian psychology, which has always been of interest to me. It has sure spurred me to take my own life slowly, to watch the unfolding that is occurring within me, and to trust my own intuition rather than societal and familiar expectations, which are at times like a stifling blanket across the bed of my decisions.

I am starting to realize that it really is my life, and I am responsible for the living of it, so why not dream it up and imagine it becoming exactly what I want, regardless of how “crazy”, “weird” or “irresponsible” that may seem to those around me whom I love and respect. The fact is that I am not irresponsible in any way, am just crazy enough to keep life abundantly fun, and there are other weirdos all over the place out there if I keep myself open meeting them.

We shall just have to see where this all goes, but I am considering my options while also drinking in the life around me in the here and now.

I’ve spent the last two days walking with a new companion, Hunter, a black lab who has more energy than any other dog I have ever met. His owner called to tell me she had broken her wrist, and is in a cast for the next six weeks, which swells and itches like crazy each time she goes out for a walk. It was nice to be out with a dog again. I realized how much I prefer having an animal companion out there in the woods to being alone.

As I type this Hunter is traipsing through my backyard, just as Sanford used to do, plugging his nose up against the glass of my kitchen window.

Tick season is here with a vengeance, and last weekend I had one embedded in my scalp. I noticed it as I scratched the crown of my head, and asked Shirley to take a look at the lump. Thankfully I was over there for an afternoon visit. I knew right away what it was, and she confirmed it. She drowned it with dish soap, as they will sometimes back out on their own if suffocated, and fetched Ken who pulled it out with a pair of needle-nosed pliers. I called our local paramedic first, just to double-check the removal protocol, and all went smoothly. Whew.

Things at the school have been going great. I had a new student start early this week, which brings numbers up to five. We are spending lots of time in the outdoors exploring the signs of spring unfolding around us, sketching and painting. We also had the Department of Fisheries and Oceans in again to perform another Coho dissection, as this was such a big hit last year I thought it valuable to repeat the activity.

I hope this finds you all well and enjoying a spring of your own inner blooms.