A Five-hour Introduction to the Wilderness that Surrounds Me

The Bulkley Valley from the mountain behind my cabin.

Sitting in my little second-floor table nook reading and having coffee, I heard a presence arrive at the door below. Looking down, I saw an older man in smart cycling gear. He introduced himself as Alec, the neighbour I'd been told of — a retired physics teacher — who loves to hike regularly. I enthusiastically agreed to meet him for a 2pm departure in to the woods. I've been here a month and not explored the wilderness that is all around me. It's been a shame to only be seeing it from the property of my cabin or from my car en route to town and back. But solo woodland walks are ill-advised in this country where bears flourish.

We made our way through mountain meadows and forest trails to a neighbouring farm. Here I was introduced to a couple of old brothers and their cousin visiting from Switzerland. I was intrigued by the home of one brother, Paul, which had all of its windows covered by bamboo slat blinds hung down from the outside and secured in what looked to be a permanent fashion. Imagine having the most spectacular mountain vista and choosing to block it all out! Curious. Also curious is the fact that Paul's wife could be heard in that dark house but is apparently rarely seen.

These brothers have lived here all their lives and raise beef cattle. They also have a spectacular vegetable garden, producing more than they could possibly consume but choosing not to partake in selling at the Farmer's Market. Alec suggests that I may be able to weasel my way into some of their bounty if I play my cards right.

Alec and I munched on heavenly raspberries that edged the garden as we awaited Paul's cousin Alfred. Then we all set off on what became a five-hour hike through dense forest. I was amazed that Alec seemed so sure of our route, despite the rare appearance of an actual trail. But sure enough, every so often we would come to one of the ribbon markers he had tied to a branch on one of his many other ventures through these parts in the more than thirty years he has been exploring them. We discovered a tiny lake, its edges teeming with lush, healthy vegetation, including thick waterlilies with their divine yellow flowers.

Later, we rested up the mountain and shared stories while taking in the most incredible view of the valley and the mountain ranges on the other side. Paul pointed to various peaks and glaciers, recounting adventures he had experienced there over his long lifetime of local exploration.

Alec and I parted ways with Paul and Alfred and I was shown the peaceful splendour of "Secret Lake", so called because it is so well hidden but it's not really a secret at all. In fact, when we arrived, there were two women sunning themselves on a floating dock. I recognized one of them as Joanne Nugent, the woman responsible for having hired Peter and I to play the Midsummer Festival.

We soaked our feet, allowing the many minnows to tickle our toes before heading down through more thick brush which Alec seemed so calmly familiar with, as if it were a well-beaten path. We parted new friends happily agreeing to become regular hiking buddies.

Next I need to pursue the leads I have on possible riding opportunities. There are so many horses all around, surely that won't be hard!

Smithers, BC • July 21 • Urban-Rural Contrasts

Above: the view from my mailbox. Breathtaking!

It has been many days of wet, chilly weather here, while my homies broil in the customary July Toronto heat wave. While I'd like to be making better use of the lounge chair I bought to induce some hardcore relaxation, the beauty of my surroundings and the inner stillness I am feeling make up for the dismal weather.

I stopped today at our mailboxes that stand at the crossing of Snake and Telkwa High Road. Turning back to the car from checking my mailbox for the first time I was stopped in my tracks by the view. Several snow-mottled mountain peaks rose up to cast their magnificence upon my humbled self. Then I had to chuckle to myself when I pictured the view in the dark hall of my apartment building where I collect my mail in Toronto. So many drastic differences. So many trade-offs.

I have been made intensely aware of the trade-offs between these two environments. When you live an urban life, you give up clean air, natural open spaces, abundant natural beauty and easier access to sanctuary in stillness. Live rurally, you give up traffic, parking problems and greater choice in goods, services and culture. Employment options are limited (especially for artists) and your grocery bills are high.

I have so much more ability to eke out at least a good chunk of my living via music when I'm in an international hub for the arts. In Toronto I get paid for sound design, DJing, making music for dance, video and theatre. But I crave a more visceral connection to living, breathing earth that is much less beholden to the designs of humans.

Garbage management poses other interesting contrasts. I am appreciating becoming more acutely aware of exactly how much waste I produce. I can't just move it from my apartment to the appropriate of three different bins outside. Garbage gets DRIVEN to the dump, paper gets DRIVEN to one place, glass to another, only plastic #2 is recyclable – it's quite an undertaking to get it all straight and accomplished.

But I could go on and on about the trade-offs and the scale would weigh out pretty evenly. Perhaps I will always be that urban-rural halfbreed. The point right now is to suck in this experience and relish in its unique gifts, to broaden and continually enrich my life experience with them.

Off to play (in both senses of the word) at the Kispiox Festival tomorrow. What fun to meet some cool new folks by suddenly playing with them at a much-loved gathering! Nice to ease into that familiar territory of playing bass with a band. Always love when the alchemy glistens. Then it's back to the cabin to surmount any further obstacles to playing and recording in my own musical garden.

Smithers, BC • July 14, 2011 • Grounded

It's taken two weeks but I was able to acknowledge to myself today that I feel settled. I descended into the black hole of a few days' illness and, now feeling much better, I've emerged into my clean and organized cabin, set up beautifully and with creativity in mind. Having previously felt a certain trepidation about getting rolling in my creative work, I had a joyful little jam today on a few different instruments (berimbau, bodhran, didgeridoo, hand drums) and now I'm excited to proceed. I had a satisfying breakthrough with my very sporadic berimbau playing. I removed the gourd from the original bow and attached it to an easier to play bow. I'm so much more excited to play the instrument now that my fingers don't hurt after five minutes! (For those wondering what the heck a berimbau is: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Berimbau)

I have agreed to play bass for a local group called Los Gringos for their set at the Kispiox Festival.(http://www.kispiox.com/kvmf/) While it would be very easy (I've had four offers in a week), I really don't want to get busy playing in various projects while I'm here. But I wanted to attend this festival anyway and now I don't have to pay and I'll get to enjoy all the perks of being a performer! So learning a set of Gringos material is on the slab for today and tomorrow. Tonight I'll be improvising some cello, flute and kamel n'goni for a BBQ dinner attended by a few dozen BC judges. Sharon's band had to pull out at the last minute and I have agreed to be their replacement. It's at a lodge not far from where I live.

I come out onto my little deck to have my ears caressed by the symphony of natural sounds. At certain times, hours can go by without a human-made sound. I have begun meditating here, sitting on a blanket I've placed on the giant chopping log facing the mountain. There are several spectacular ranges on my drive from here to town. I've yet to know all their names. Names are useful for conversation, but I've never been very concerned with what humans decide to call natural entities. They just are. They don't need names. Even while feeling sheepish about interfering with Nature in any way, I can't say I'm upset that the poplar stand between my deck and the snowy peaks has been thinned!

The deck also provides a dreamy place for yoga, which I've begun doing about every other day. My body is thankful. For one who generally works out 3-4x/wk and just came out of yoga teacher training, I've had a terrible dearth of exercise in the last month. I joined the local gym yesterday and hope to get there roughly 3x/wk. It's right around the corner from the yoga studio where I plan to bring my fine letters of reference and schmooze the owner to see if she could use someone to cover for her at times. It seems to be a very small operation and I'm doubtful she'd offer me my own class.

I bought a bird feeder and seeds along with a hummingbird feeder. These gorgeous and playful little birds deliver great entertainment. They will come individually and survey me quite closely, dropping or rising to various vantage points, their wings buzzing as they chirp their chipper hellos. They will suck back some sugar and sudden rumbles will often ensue where that bird will chase away a gang of marauders who were coming to check out the scene. They can be surprisingly vicious for such cute and elegant little critters. But more typically they seem to be playing — little buzzing blurry balls that will chase each other right past my face or suddenly draw my eyes up, up, up and away.

Smithers, BC • July 11, 2011

I know evening has rolled into the still bright sky by the song of the Thrush, that sound that rivals that of the Loon in its beauty. These little singers have built-in delay units that seem to lay echo trails through the silver birch.

I was intensely aware of my sonic environment today. Spending the entire day and night at my cabin, I noted the lack of human-made sounds. Depending on the time of day, I can hear only one car go by about every hour and the very occasional distant airplane. Mostly there are only sounds of Nature — birds, insects and wind. This welcome soundscape creates a meditative head space for me and such peace and ease of movement.