I was fortunate enough to be born and raised in a beautiful place. My hometown is built on the shores and hillsides by Kootenay Lake. Once a major center of trade and mining in my province of British Columbia, Nelson boasts many beautiful stone buildings constructed around the turn of the last century. Golden sand beaches dot the shore all along the lake and densely forested mountains rise above it. My winters were spent skiing and sledding, summers spent swimming and sunning. A haven for artists and students, my town fostered a uniquely vibrant cultural scene. People still flock there from all over in search of a kind of Utopia.
I left my hometown at nineteen to attend university. I met my husband and never lived in my hometown again, save a stint of a few months after I was finished with my studies. I pined for Nelson for a few years, always desiring to return and make it my home once again. In the meantime, my husband and I moved for his career from Vancouver to the East Kootenays, then to Vancouver Island, and finally to the Fraser Valley where we have now lived for twenty-three years. I soon learned that my hometown is not the only beautiful place in the world, let alone in my province of BC.
I remember going for walks in the East Kootenay town of Kimberley, where we spent a couple of very happy years as a young family. There was one spot down the hill from our house (Kimberley is built on a steep hill with three plateaus) with a wide view that highlighted the distant Rocky Mountains. I would regularly stop there on my walks and gaze admiringly at that fiercely dramatic mountain range. Before we left for Vancouver Island where my husband had been offered a transfer, I walked to my spot to say farewell to that special view, hoping it would not be too long before I could return to visit it again.
I had for a long while secretly longed to live on Vancouver Island. An island life seemed a romantic idea to me. We moved at the start of winter, and I could not believe how mild the climate was. Kimberley's temperatures regularly dipped into the double digits celcius in winter and my little boys loved to watch the snow removal machines do their seemingly constant job in front of our house. We were lucky to see any snow on the Island. Moss and lichen grew rampantly on the north sides of buildings, and we could often visit a nearby beach in January, not necessarily to swim, although our younger son did have a talent for getting wet every time we neared the water. We have a lovely family photo taken during the winter after our older daughter was born. We are sitting on a beach in January, in jeans and fleece jackets, squinting in the sunshine. We lived a few blocks above the Courtenay air park which was built on the flats of the Courtenay river. My husband worked from home, so the kids and I would give him some quiet by taking daily walks down to the air park. We could watch the small planes take off and land, and enjoy the vibrant bird life and aquatic antics of seals and salmon. On weekends our little family would visit local beaches or drive up into the mountains for hikes. Life was indeed good.
After the non-profit my husband worked for lost their core funding, we were on the move again - up Island to an off-grid lodge in the mountains west of Campbell River. The place felt like my Nelson home in that it was built on the shore and hillsides above a wide lake, but much more remote. The winters were milder, too. When we did get snow, it was generally wet and packable. The kids had a great time playing year round, no matter the weather. They rode their bikes, paddled in little river kayaks, hiked up trails built into the hillsides, swam to the dock, played in the sand, and climbed trees. I soaked in the views - the layered mountains across the lake were an ever-changing pallette of hues I never tired of gazing at. Campbell River provided everything else we needed. Many hours were spent at soccer fields and parks in the beautiful waterfront community. Discovery Passage provided endless hours of whale and seal watching. Once when we were having a meal at the Beehive Cafe, which was basically built on the dock at Foreshore Park, I watched silently as a grey whale rose and dove repeatedly right in front of me.
After five years of off-grid living we were on the move again. Our family of six had outgrown, not the beauty, but the living and working situation, of The Lodge. Saying goodbye to The Island was one of the hardest decisions I had ever had to make. I loved it so much. I still do. I get excited every time I board a ferry to visit our daughter in Victoria where she has chosen to make her home - an Island girl through and through . We were excited to start a new family chapter, but the temptation to flip the pages back was strong. We persevered, however, and began to plant roots in the Fraser Valley. Those roots are fairly deep now, after twenty-three years of making the Upper Fraser our home.
What struck me first about the Upper Fraser were the mountain views. Mt. Cheam towers over the community of Agassiz, but is still a feature of the landscape in the city we call home now, west of there. How I have grown to love that mountain, and her neighbour, Lady Peak! I have been fortunate enough to climb to the top of Mt. Cheam and admire the long, wide views in each direction. The Valley has much to recommend it. I admire the farmers who work so hard to provide locally grown food. I enjoy the cities being broken up by fields of productive lands and a myriad of rivers intersecting them. The landscape in The Valley is open and generous and encircled with stunning mountain peaks. I also enjoy the fact that within an hour or two of driving, we can be at the ocean in beautiful Vancouver or White Rock.
I am also incredibly fortunate to spend much time in the Cascade mountains just over the mountain pass from the Fraser Valley and into the Okanagan/Similkameen. The Resort my husband works at (and lives at most of the week) benefits from both the moisture of the Coast and the aridity of the Okanagan. Again, I feel at home. In some ways I have come full circle. I was born and raised at an elevation of 1700-odd feet, which is basically the same elevation as the top of the resort's ski hill. The resort is located near the Eastern border of a huge provincial park, the beauty of which is renowned and loved dearly by many in all four distinct seasons.
If home is where the heart is, then my home is forever British Columbia. I'm not sure I could live anywhere else. If I can never get on a plane again, I am fairly sure I would be happy continuing to simply explore this incredible province.
'til next time,
Rebecca
