Back To The Bears

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

"It is no good telling yourself that one day you will wish

you had never made the change; it is no good anticipating regrets.

Every tomorrow ought not to resemble every yesterday."
                    - Beryl Markham West With The Night

Anarchist Lookout, Lake Osoyoos

    Love the traverse through pine and sage that is the interior of British Columbia. Home. Sort of. Back to the bears. Trust me, I have learned and am hoddling the garbage under the kitchen sink. Drove through two snow storms to get here. Good thing I just had my summer tires put on. Isn't it spring? I was so sure. Mornings in the Kootenies are below zero and I am not in the mood - further confirmation I am not a mountain woman. This fortifies my resolve to eventually return to the coast. 

    A walk by the lakeside park, and I watch as a thick shouldered dog pulls on an older man. He somersaults down a hill and slides on his back across the road. Ow.

    I stop and help. He is dazed and winded and the dog, part Pit Bull, who was so intent on eating a little Spaniel moments earlier, greets me with enthusiasm. Lucky for me. 

    I take the gentleman by the arm and talk to him gently. It becomes apparent he cannot remember where he parked the car - normal. Then I realize he is unable to recall the make or the colour. He tells me he is not sure how long he has been in the park. I understand that he lives alone. A lump the size of a baseball starts to emerge on his balding head. With growing concern, I tell him I believe he has a concussion and ask if there is someone we can phone. 

    His son comes quickly. He leaps out of the pickup and growls angrily at the dog. They immediately rush off to emergency. I wonder how long the gentelman would have wandered the park, dazed and confused. I was glad I could be there for him. 

    And such is life. Without a second's notice, life can turn on a dime. 

Mayne Island Calm

 

by Maryanna Gabriel

Dawn from my room on Mayne Island. 

Each island has it's own personality and Mayne Island, smack dab in the middle of the Southern Gulf Islands has revealed a calming aspect. The quiet

Old Arbutus - wide as outspread arms. 

 walks and just being, as I think about things, while the world has been going a little crazy, has been vastly appreciated. Compared to Salt Spring Island, it feels very quiet with a population of under 1,500.

This photo of an Arbutus tree was an unexpected friend that I made. The base was as wide as both my arms outstretched so I can't imagine how old it must be.
  

Japaneses Gardens, Dinner Bay, Mayne Island. 

The Japanese Gardens were very beautiful but still I felt so much sadness that radiated off the grass as I walked the land where the Japanese used to farm in Dinner Bay befored the war. No matter how nicely one phrases the plaque, and how many azaleas one plants, it still does not capture the profound injustice and sense of loss that is one's home and business built from scratch that has been forcibly impounded without compensation.  

I also walked to the lighthouse that protects the ships in Active Pass and was impressed by a brave apple tree that had survived a lightening strike. The trunk was split. It barely had an interior yet still it thrived and blossomed with bursting life although much of the base was burned out.

Hmm. Seemed to be a metaphor,
if only I could be more eloquent
as to what that might be. 

In blossom. Split and hollowed by lightening.

Last night I watched a movie where every scene was a rich tableau and was so visually rich it felt like a painting in motion. Then there were the silences that were equally as mesmerizing as one took in the set and mood of the set. Juliette Binoche was featured. She was courted with courses by a French chef in "The Taste of Things". 

It was a perfect and peaceful night, after a perfect and peaceful day, the energy of which I hope to carry forward as I travel. 

Heartening Visit To The Coast

 By Maryanna Gabriel

With a friend in West Vancouver and walking in the rain.

Me on sunny Salt Spring Island.

April is a good time for a road trip I am discovering. Most places are open and not at all busy. I have made my way to West Vancouver where I visited and reveled in the beauty of the plum blossoms and the happiness of being once again by the ocean. Much of my youth is wrapped around such places that I was overjoyed to walk once again. Continuity of place seemed important. And people.

On Vancouver Island, I had more inspiring visits with old souls and then dealt with the winter tires being replaced for summer ones. After the snow and cold of a long winter, it has warmed my heart to connect with those who have known me since forever. Sincere and intimate conversation, fun walks, meals, and general appreciation of the onset of spring in the lush biome of the west coast has been heartening. 
 

A friend buys after dinner drinks and we sit
by the fire at genteel Hastings House.

In the town of Sidney, I got my hair cut and stopped in Tanner's Books and checked to see if the book I wrote was there. It was. I offered to autograph it for the store and they were happy about this. The lady at the reference desk said,"I read it. It's very well written." That was such a compliment. She certainly has a basis for comparison.

A special and delicious dinner on Salt Spring Island
at the genteel, Hastings House, has topped the visit off. Sometimes a person has to live a little. 

As I write, I am able to see little buttons of land that are wee islands which dot the sea beyond my window. The phone thinks I am in the States but I am actually on the southeastern side of Mayne Island. Orcas Island in the San Juans is very close. One day I will go there but not today. It is time to say goodbye to the ocean and return to the Kootenies where my plants are slowly expiring in the kitchen sink. 

Button of land off Mayne Island. 

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Nakusp

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

Lovely Nakusp.

Was glad to hear that Nakusp had no large groups of people to inter. With a sweeping lake views, surrounded by mountains it has an open feeling. It struck me as a pretty place with a population of about 1,600. It was founded in 1892 as a consequence of gold and silver mining. The first thing I noticed was the strangely high embankment to the lake and then I remembered. This area was traumatized by the building of the Keenleyside Dam in 1968.

I talked to varying locals. Some remembered what happened to their parents and grandparents. At the time, there had been no discussion from the government. People were given the amount designated for the purchase of their property, their homes were burned, and then razed by bulldozers. End of story. During this period, many ranches disappeared forever that were up and down the lakes, as did homesteads, and parts of other historic towns in numerous sites such as Ranata, Deer Park, Farquier, Needles Edgewood, Burton, along with hundreds of summer houses and fishing holes. 

Today as I walk the steep embankment that surrounds Nakusp, I am struck by how low the water levels

Exposed shoreline and falling lake level in Nakusp.

are. I was informed at the Visitor Center, the Arrow Lakes are now a "reservoir" from Castlegar to Revelstoke. Last summer, the gate that allows flow into the United States was "stuck" as we provided to our southern neighbours. (Canadians are so nice.) There was no communication about the event with the lake communities affected. Commercial enterprises such as logging came to a complete halt in Nakusp because the booms could not land. Boaters and swimmers were compromised. As I drove north, I was shocked by how low the water is in comparison to my memory of it when I kayaked the area with an old boyfriend in the 1990s. 

Another hot spring swim. Very pleasant. Interesting to note that the natural hot pool above the Nakusp Hot Springs was mysteriously dynamited and the road to it made impassible by fallen trees so that people have no choice but to use the commercialized pool. No charges laid.

Passing white tailed deer, and arresting waterfalls, I was onto the Galena Crossing for the free ferry. It felt as though I was leaving one world for another as I departed the Kootenies and headed towards the coast. 

Nakusp Hot Springs

Arresting waterfall, Arrow Lakes.

Low lake level from Galena Bay Ferry.

Leaving a beautiful and historic area. 

Ghost Towns On My Mind

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

I remember the newspaper articles. Picking up from my last blog, the Freedom Fighters were one sect of Doukhobors. Millions of dollars worth of land was confiscated by the British Columbia government and sold off. Desperate to protect their children that were forcibly removed, the mothers stripped to protest. How did we deal with it? We changed the law so that the mothers would be jailed for three years. To paraphrase what I was told, they were saying with their actions: "You have taken everything, so take my underclothes too."

Oh my. Given the history, I admit I was holding it against New Denver when I chose not to stop, 

My destination was the ghost town of Sandon. It used to be a silver mine. It had all the marking for tourism except the road was embanked with snow to either side and the car slipped precariously on an ungraded slick. Roaring Carpenter Creek snaked alongside, more river than creek and at times a steep decline. Slowly, I made my way, admiring the entrepreneurial spirit of the miners of yore, seeking to make their fortune, who came in with pack horses.

Two railroads once served the place. Hard to believe, let alone picture. Sandon was incorporated in 1898 with 24 hotels, an opera house, saloons, stores, mining broker's offices, newspapers, banks etc and was called the soul of "Silvery Slocan". Tragedy followed. In the 1900s a fire decimated the town. Then there was a landslide that killed miners. Another that killed families. Unbelievably the Japanese were interred during the war in some of the abandoned houses. That must have been fun for them. In 1955, a flood undermined what was left. Mother nature rules. 

Talk about a heritage. Nothing romantic about it. Hear the wind blow. Are those the cries of the dead I am hearing? 

I was totally creeped out by the place. Noone was around except for a couple of other bewildered tourists with out of province license plates. I couldn't get out fast enough.

Next destination? Naksup. 

Silver mine in Sandon. Intermittently active. 

Sandon city hall, 1900 date on building.

Doukhobors

 By Maryanna Gabriel

At four in the morning I heard a rattling outside my bedroom window and upon lifting the blind, I was greeted by the dark silouette of a fuzzy head and two, not-so-little, ears. He was after the rubbish bin, and rolling it around in his paws as if trying to sort out the lock-on lid. I was having none of it.

"Hey! Get outta here!" I flicked the light. This is not a snack station, for goodness sakes.

Fortunately for me, he took off. A young fellow - maybe a yearling. Then, feeling terribly brave, I packed for my trip. I was visiting a cousin I have not seen in ages, and hoping to take in some Kootenay sights. Ghost towns were on my mind. 

I stopped at the Doukhobor Center in Castlegar. Did you know they are peace loving, much like the Quakers? They came to Canada, escaping Russian persecution for burning their guns in a stand for pacifism. I am ashamed to say that in Canada, their lands were confiscated, more than once, for not swearing allegiance to Her Royal Majesty etc.Their children were also forcibly removed and sent to New Denver which is in the Kootenies on Arrow Lake, close to where the Japanese were interned in the second world war. We put them in an old tuberculosis sanitorium. I learned the children were not given enough food and were fed scrambled eggs three meals a day. Oh, we can be such a nice bunch here in Canada. Have no idea where the First Nations Residential School in the area might be. I am headed to the Arrow Lakes, next.

Doukhobor Discovery Center, Castlegar, BC

Beautiful hand-woven rugs.

A platok - carefully crafted head scarf, 

Bread, salt, and water symbolizing peace and "will not raise their hands in violence".

Crawford Bay Spin

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Whitewater is where people ski in the Kootenay area. The famous Whitewater cookbooks drew me and I thought perhaps a great dining experience might be just the thing, given my skiing days were behind me. Driving in snow is not one of my strengths in life so I white-knuckled it up to the resort. The road was a straight vertical, matched only by my blood pressure. At the first ski lift and turnoff, I wildly rotated and without hesitation madly clutched the steering wheel back down again, praying my tires would navigate the ice. That was the end of that and I have survived to tell the tale. 

"Longest Free Ferry In The World"

Something less alarming, perhaps. My sights were set on a different part of the Kootenies. It meant crossing beautiful Kootenay Lake on a ferry and seeing a mysterious and less accessible area, Crawford Bay. The photos made it look like Hawaii the way the sand seemed to arrange itself around the inlet and I pictured lounging there with a book. "The Osprey" is the "world's longest free ferry", a titillating sensation given the fortune spent living in the Southern Gulf Islands over the years.

I packed a lunch. It was a beautiful day as I travelled on the ferry from sleepy Balfour where everything was closed, to historic Kootenay Bay. Kootenay Bay used to be a thriving enterprise and a major transport point for goods and miners from steamships to rail. But now? What remains is a paved parking lot accompanied by gender neutral washrooms, always a bit disconcerting. So I drove in a vast and remote geography beneath snow-capped mountains and glaciers that did not look at all like they were melting.

View From Crawford Bay

Crawford Bay was not what I thought, inaccessible, reedy looking, lonesome feeling, and everything shut tight. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine the winters. Not for me. Exploring further, I came to a town I was curious about called Riondel. With all the natural space, the houses were cheek by jowel and had the feeling of the 1940's with their construction. Bunkhouses housed miners back in the day. Robert Sproule staked claims in Riondel in 1882 which included the Bluebell Mine, but he ended up being hung for murder in 1886 over a claim dispute. Today it is a retirement community with a population of less than 400. 

Riondel, mining town founded in 1882.

So that was that. I managed the drive in the opposite direction to lovely Pilot Bay and then it was time to go. Ferries do not wait. Do people become inured to the beauty, I wondered? 

Breathtaking Kootenay Lake

Picnic In New Denver

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"Where am I going? I don't quite know

Down to the stream where the king-cups grow

Up on the hill where the pine trees blow

Anywhere, anywhere, I don't know."

    - "Spring Morning" by A.A. Milne

Mountain weather is unpredictable and I knew I was having a lucky break with clear blue skies. The day was a gift so I decided to make a run for it. Without really understanding the geography and turned the nose of my Toyota towards the town of New Denver. David and I had been there - I remembered a dinner we ate. The geography, even with maps, is bewildering. What I didn't understand was just how much in the boonies I actually was. The road was a highway, totally clear, but nobody was on it except for a helicopter getting fuelled by a pickup truck. 

I was climbing, past a clear river, with views of glaciers and then beyond still frozen lakes. Three men were ice fishing, and I thought they were taking their chances as winter was melting the snow. I was grateful once again that I was doing this trip out of season, but wondered if my phone would work if I had a flat. More than once I commanded myself to keep my eyes on the road with precipices to one side as the views upwards of the mountains that so beguiled. Stunning glaciers. 

If possible. New Denver seemed sleepier than Kaslo. Like Kaslo, it was once a bustling mining town and many historic buildings still survive. It proved to be a peaceful picnic by the lake as I contemplated the passage of time and how life events have turned out. David has passed away but the people we have loved alway abide, don't they? He loved my hair in braids and was good about my passion for the outdoors; we had that in common. 

Picnic in New Denver. 

A Touch of Shangri La

 By Maryanna Gabriel 

"The present moment is filled with joy and happiness.

If you are attentive, you will see it."
- Thich Nhat Hanh

A sharp intake of breath at my first view of Kaslo. Smitten. The historic buildings with the mountains and lake beyond had me. The hotel room was lovely, overlooked the water, had touches of luxury, and was worth every penny. Downstairs, there was a crackling fire. After sleeping like a lamb, and before more exploration, I visited the Blueberry Bistro and had to try Bao - an avocado deep-fried with panko and coconut, served with a fried egg, arugula and Korean hot sauce on a bun. A deep, earthy coffee accompanied it. Wow.

Later, I walked. At first, the miners came by rowboat. By 1893, Kaslo had a population of 3,000, mostly men, and bustled in its heyday. Silver prices fell, freak windstorms, fire, and flooding beset the town. The SS Moyie, pictured below, later serviced the residents and is now proudly retired. Kaslo has a music festival and a Shakespeare festival every summer, but I enjoyed the sleepy quiet of the town in the March  morning sunshine.

Ainsworth Hot Springs - Spirit Waters

 By Maryanna Gabriel


                                        

My heart sank when snow was forecast and cloud and rain moved in the day before my jaunt. Then, all of a sudden, it cleared up. Yeah!The day for my adventure dawned clear with sunny skies and in these mountains, that is no small accomplishment. My spirits rose. 

In 1808, David Thompson described the area as "stupendous and solitary Wilds...where Mountains connected to Mountain, to immense Glaciers, the collection of Ages." The beauty is certainly inspiring. Ainsworth was decribed in 1895 as a place where a frog concert can be heard every night of the year. The frogs lived where the hot water oozed from the earth despite the cold of winter.* A fire eventually burned the gold rush town and today, remnants of the mines are submerged by growth. 

The hot springs were the way I remembered, although they have been refurbished and are under new ownership with the Yagan Nukly (Lower Kootenay Band) buying back what was theirs in the first place from the gold claim that was made in 1883. They call the springs "spirit waters". If feels sacred. 

For some reason, when I made my way into the horseshoe shaped cave, it was pitch black. The sides are

smooth as years of mineralization have built sculptural formations and where the occasional crystal glitters. I stood under a waterfall and made my way to where the waters disappeared into a dark recess. I was thinking about the Greek story of Plato and the cave, where people are chained in the dark by wrong beliefs, think the dark shadowy cave is reality, and refuse to make their way out. A sudden fleshy touch caused me to scream when a woman who was quietly beside me also screamed. It was so dark I did not know she was there. We laughed nervously and as I decided it was definity time to make my way out, I joined in on some interesting conversations and learned the minerals were healing. One woman said it helps with arthritis. Another said the mineral lithium helps her with depression. I also learned the waters are so hot that they have to pump cold water in to cool the pool down, otherwise visitors would be scalded. It seemed people had come a long way to enjoy the experience. 

That night my body tingled, and the next day me and my traumatized bones (from a debilititating fall off a roof) moved with noticable ease. Then I remembered there was a healing aspect to the waters and wondered if it was because of my visit to the springs. Maybe. Would love a season pass. 

* Ghost Towns and Drowned Towns of West Kootenay, Elsie G. Turnbull, c. 1988. 

Kaslo

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Am packing my bags. This house hunting is getting a bit depressing, and as it is almost spring, I thought I would explore the historic town of Kaslo which is called "the Little Switzerland of Canada". The mountains right now are snow-capped, which makes the journey quite spectacular. 

Kaslo wound down with the outbreak of the first world war but before that, it was a bustling silver mining town. It has many historic buildings with a population of 500 or so. I am staying in an historic hotel which includes two swims at the Ainsworth Hot Springs about ten minutes away, which should be interesting. I came to Ainsworth with David on our honeymoon, and we swam together in the hot springs. David and I canoed the Bowren Lakes and then traveled through the Kootenay region as we headed to an archaeological dig near Cranbrook. We were both active in archaeology at the time. It is always a bit strange to revisit the past. That seems so long ago.

Loved

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Walked the lake. 

Tired. 

Lay down. 

Watched Navalny's funeral.

Wept from the bottom of my soul.

Foetal position.

Bethoven's 7th. 

Dreaming Of Plum Blossoms

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Eight inches last night... in like a lion. I know this is Canadian and all, but I am not very good with this cold. Sometimes I pretend I am an Inuit, or that I live in the high steppes of Tibet, and this subzero thing feels absolutely right.

Who am I kidding? Am headed for some hotsprings soon and I hope this is all gone by then. I have a reservation. Will tell you all about it. In the meantime, thank goodness for yellow tulips. 

Being snowbound, I have found this lovely poem which I thought I would share. It is cheering me up this morning as I dream of snowdrops and plum blossoms. 

"Quiet is peace.
Tranquility.
Quiet is turning down the volume on life. 
Silence is pushing off the button. Shutting
it down. All of it.
                - Khaled Hosseini

Sunday Thoughts

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"Every dead body on Mt. Everest 

was once a highly motivated person,

so maybe calm down."

- J.P.Gowinder

Out on the town.

It's Sunday today. Free parking in this town in the Kootenies where I live. They use these old-fashioned meters that require actual money. Really different. Am amazed by the number of coffee shops. Salt Spring Island, with the same population, had a third the number. One of my goals is to visit every single cafe, and so today is a big day because I save a toonie with the meters when I go out on the town. 

There is one point of friction amid all this caffeine bliss and goal setting. The bodies on the street. Not like New Delhi in India or anything, but as on Salt Spring, the number of people taking drugs and whatnot is out of control. And like Salt Spring, there is food given to help support those "less fortunate". Meanwhile, vandalism increases to an alarming degree as I sidestep angry youth talking to the air, or passed out in store doorways. It is a problem that is nation wide, judging by the news. We give our youth heroine, meth, and fentanol. For free. Really? And how is this progressive, again? Statistic. Canada has the second highest death rate for drugs in the world.
Oh, Canada. And did I really hear this correctly on CBC radio? In British Columbia, seven to eight of our youth are dying on a daily basis.

Portland, in Oregon to the south of us, is in an epic state of unpleasantness, so I'm guessing it is widespread in America as well. This morning I listened to a podcast on Reuters about the traffic of drugs from Peru and Uruguay, and how these drugs travel the globe. By the sounds of things, more are reaching Europe than North America. What does all this despair say? Seems to me addiction is best dealt with by not enabling it. By not feeding into it. Hello. By not feeding it. 

Me - I notice that I am unconconsciously avoiding places where the drug tribes are thriving on the sidewalks in clumps. When it comes to real estate and purchasing a new home, I don't want to feel worried about theft.

I do know one has to find joy in the quieter humble places. Like the blossom of spring flowers, a passing smile during a lakeside walk, peaceful bird calls, or quiet moments with a good book. Somehow we have to make our way as best we can. Onto my next latte. What a wild woman. 

Two Favourite Teachers

 By Maryanna Gabriel

One of my passions is archaeology which includes anthropology. 

I am taking an online course on the Dead Sea Scrolls from Dr. James Tabor, a specialist in this field. It has taken a long time for the world to translate the scroll information and I am curious to know more. He is very knowledgeable as he has worked at the Qumran cave site.

About 150 to 200 years before Christ, a group of approximately 150 people lived on the lowest point of earth (the absolute opposite of Mount Everest), on the Dead Sea, and quietly went about their business. Something about preparing the way for their teacher yet to come. Apparently, there were a lot of rules. I don't think I would have liked that much. We know this because of the discovered texts. It seems awfully strict. Bathroom etiquette was also specified. Strictly off site, for one. In other words, no convenient ensuites. 

One edifying piece of information I have already learned. Archaeology has revealed these good denizens partook in a ritual of purification in the mikvah, or ritual communal bath. Someone had tape worm which they gave to one another in the water. Dr. Tabor feels it may be the reason many did not live past the age of 40. Yikes. See how much I'm learning?

One of my favourite go to authors when I need escapist literature is Kathy Reichs, the anthropologist who is responsible for the film series Bones and who is a prolific author. She teaches at the same university as Dr. Tabor used to, in Charlotte, North Carolina. They are great friends. She wrote a book, Cross Bones, in part inspired by Dr. Tabor's work, a compelling whodunnit set in Israel. I loved that two people who have given me so much are connected in this way. I never knew. It would have been a lot of fun and most interesting to have gone to their classes back in the day. 

Winter as a West Coaster

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Behold. My winter fashion line. 

It's all coming back to me. The persistent piles of dirty snow melting in the rain. The puddles of wet by the door as one comes to terms with snowy boots. How to sweat uncomfortably in stores, or car, only to experience a bone chilling bitterness once outside as layers are alternately applied or removed, too soon or too late. 

Feeling inspired by an environment where I look longingly at earflaps, I have made progress with my winter fashion line. Note the hand knit sweater, the open fingered gloves, the charming matching scarf. I have not been idle. 

The other day, I found an informative scrap of paper tucked into my writing binder. It was from a time before this all began. An innocently written travel plan. Something about Spain and being a hospitero and a bit of a European explore. That was before. Before I understood the inflated housing market, or learned rentals have increased 22% in the past two years, and that there is a 1% vacancy rate. Before terror struck my wame, as the Scottish say, and I grasped I had sold and was caught in an inflated economy most of us could not have foreseen.

 Such a good word, prudent. Knit. Pearl. Yes, best be prudent.