Breeze

Your silence is as vast as my country.
Your breath, a gentle zephyr upon my beating heart.

Whitewater Winter Stoke

As we quickly tumble away from summer into cooler weather here in the Kootenays, our thoughts move away from all the summer joys of beaches, bonfires, swimming in the lake and the like and we start to dream of the winter fun that lies just beyond the horizon. For many of us, that means Whitewater ski resort. Here, we love big, fluffy flakes the flutter fearlessly thick and carpet the mountains and tree tops. We love how the snow crusts over and sparkles like diamonds. We dream of deep powder that goes flying as we glide through it. Through those dark winter months, this is what keeps our hearts beating. If you are lucky enough to find yourself in the Kootenays in the middle of winter, tap into the pulse that keeps us going. Check out the magic of Whitewater.

Looking Up

The clouds
look no nearer
than when
I was lying in the street.

Still Waters

The journey has been long and I am weary. Let me rest here but a little while before the wind once more whips at my back spurring me on.

Nostalgia

When she finally got back to her old home town, she found it wasn't the old home that she missed, but her childhood.

Hug Fest

I feel so neglectful lately. I've hardly had a chance to drop in and say hi, let alone post anything. But today, I wanted to send hugs out there to all of you. Scientists have proven that hugging slows aging, improves sleep and increases intelligence. Pretty cool, isn't it? And if that's not enough, just think of that fantastic warm and fuzzy feeling it gives you. For any of you who feel you could use some more hugs or just simply want to come and test the theory, feel free to drop by Baker street between Stanley and Ward from 11 am to 1 pm on February 14th for the annual Inspire Nelson Valentine's Hugfest. I can't think of a better way to beat those winter blues and banish the grey away. Guaranteed to make you smile.

Winter Pear Jam with Honey

This past weekend found me foraging in the forest stealing pears away from the bears. Not to worry, the bears have had a good summer and for the most part have their tummies full and are getting a little sleepy with the imminent approach of winter.

Yes, I know, you probably didn't want to hear it. Winter is on its way. In fact, the past two days have seen the peaks of the mountains glistening with that white stuff.

But back to those well-fed bears, they are drawn by the sweet smell of ripening fruit, but then usually after one or two bites leave the fruit to rot on the ground. I was simply rescuing what was left before the bears spoil any more.

I got the fruit from the back yard of a friend who's property backs up against what was once one of many orchards in this region. This region at one time boasted some of the best fruit in the province and probably the country. The cherries here were particularly prized until the trees were hit with a blight that devastated the industry. But that is another story entirely.

In any case, this old overgrown orchard backs up against the mountain and the forest providing easy access not just to the bears, but also deer. There aren't many trees left and they are old, but the fruit is still fabulously sweet. With much of it turning quickly...pears don't last for long once they start to ripen, I made pear winter jam. It's actually more like a pear butter. The warmth of the ginger does one good in the winter. The concoction is actually really good completely raw, but of course would not last for long, so most of it got cooked up and sealed in jars.

Pear Jam
Ripe pears - 3 pounds, peeled and cored
Medium orange - 1 seeded
Medium lemon - 1 seeded
Crushed pineapple - 1 cup (canned in own juice)
Honey - 3/4 cup
Fresh ginger root - 1 inch, peeled and grated
Whole cloves - 6
Cinnamon sticks - 2, broken into 3 pieces
Salt - dash (optional)

Process fruit in food processor or blender. Place in a large pot, adding pineapple and juice. Add remaining ingredients and simmer until fruit is tender and mixture thick, stirring often. Skim and pour into hot, sterile pint jars, leaving 1/2 inch at top. Cap with hot, sterile lids. Process in boiling-water bath for 5 minutes after water returns to boil. If any jars fail to seal, refrigerate and use within ten days or freeze for later use.

Spaghetti Western

The sun dances high in the sky as it beats out its last rays of summer heat. Our car slowly ambles into the sleepy little western Canadian town of Keremeos. Little do we know that the emphasis is on “Western,” and one never knows what one will encounter when setting foot in a “Western.” We round the corner and smack dab in the middle of the sidewalk tied up to a tree I find this absolute beauty. I call her Winnetou.

I quickly glance around expecting to see the swinging doors of a saloon just a few steps away. Despite the odd dreamlike quality of the horse, the parked cars and grocery store down the street assure me that I am still in the twenty-first century. Being the first on the scene, I snap a few pics and make friends with Winnetou. Shortly thereafter a few others begin to gather obviously as taken by the situation as I am. Eventually a drunken cowboy comes stumbling onto the scene to collect his horse.

He poses for a few photos hamming up his instant celebrity status. The local sheriff arrives and assures us that riding a horse drunk is not a criminal offense. He tells us that the horse knows the way back home better than the cowboy and just to make sure that we know, that the cowboy is totally harmless, even drunk. Eventually the cowboy saddles up and rides off into the sunset as I play all possible soundtracks in my head.

There's No Place Like Home

Many a voyage has carried me far from home and I have seen numerous interesting sights. The whispers of adventure secretly seduce me at my every turn. They continually pull at my heartstrings drawing me on. But in truth, adventure and excitement never lurk far from the streets of Nelson. Summer is a special time here. Festivals and celebrations abound and bring out the masses. This past Friday was no exception, in fact, it was double the pleasure with the launch of Art Walk and one of numerous Market Street Fests in full swing.

Every summer Nelson's Art Walk invites locals and visitors alike to take a stroll downtown and view the very best work of local artists and craftspeople. Local businesses host the artists and shops and boutiques become instant galleries. They put on splendid receptions, wine, cheese and other appies. Everyone mulls about, snacking while chatting with the best artistic talent in the area.

Meandering back out onto the main street, I am confronted with the city's undeniable bohemian undercurrent. It's impossible not to be drawn in. The crowds, the music, the food, the entertainment...it's all there. I happened upon a troop of belly dancers with the emphasis on belly, at least for the woman who was eight months pregnant. I half expected her water to break during the course of the performance.

And then the motley of a band...an odder collection of musicians thrown together one just couldn't find, I'm quite sure. There was the yahoo cowboy, hat and all, the two who looked like they had just stepped out of Barvaria, the one with the punkish style hair, another who was a frat boy I'm sure. How they found each other must be a story within itself. But boy could they play music. It made us all want to dance right along. For your viewing pleasure, the following video snippets will almost transport you there. Now close your eyes and click the heels of those ruby slippers together. There truly is no place like home, at least not if your home is Nelson.

Unfinished Business

I sat amongst the debris still coming down around me, the smoke choking my lungs as I stifled a cough. "Quick, he whispered, there's no time." I pulled out a kerchief and tied it loosly around my head covering my nose and mouth. We crawled out of our hiding spot still shrouded by the black smoke.

Fame

Well, apparently Blanche can hold her own in a beauty contest. Unbeknownst to me she went off and put herself out there with a bunch of other snowmen. She knew I probably wouldn't approve. But what is done is done. There's no going back now. In any case, one must strike while the iron is hot...or I guess before it gets hot, in the case of a snowman. A snowman's life is short so I admire her tenacity to seize the day and live life to the fullest. I just didn't know that a snowman's life could be so full. Apparently her dream was to see herself in glossy print, and now she's done just that and gone off there and put herself out there on the web too. At least she chose a respectable magazine: British Columbia Magazine. Check it out, and you will see what a busy girl she's been. I believe she's the third picture down. Rumour has it that she is now eying Broadway. I have my doubts about that one, but I must admit that I have yet to hear her sing and she has surprised me thus far. Who knew that a snowman's life could be so full?

Patience

I hold my heart between the fourth and sixth rib for you.

Risk

Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.
~Helen Keller

Imagine

Imagine. You drive into Horseshoe Bay, join the queue, and then turn off your engine. You are off on a great adventure. You get out of your vehicle and take a little stroll while you wait. You pass a mother with her child. You hear the child exclaim, “But Mom, you said we were going to see a fairy. All I see is a big boat.” You chuckle to yourself as you continue on. Time passes quickly and the next thing you know, you’re boarding that big boat. You cover your ears as the horn blasts loudly. The boat leaves the terminal. It meanders its way along the coast, through the islands and across the straight. You pass numerous abodes: large houses, estates, mansions, little cottages, cabins and make-shift shelters. They dot the hills and cliffs. You wonder about the people who live there, where they work, what they do, who they are, these people who are so tied to the water, so exposed to the elements. Water, water, water, water, water. Wind. The ferry approaches the other side. We are now nearing the Nanaimo terminal. You patiently wait to be signaled off. You disembark. You drive through the town and head north on the Island Highway. You continue along following the pack of cars that came before you. Slowly they disperse along the way. Just north of Parksville, you take the Highway 4 exit towards Port Alberni. You drive along the narrow, winding, twisty highway across the island.
You take in the views of snow capped mountains and rushing streams as you traverse the passes. You travel through dense forests where the trees loom high overhead obstructing the few rays of autumn sunshine fighting to get through. You pull over into a small parking lot alongside the highway. This is Cathedral grove.

You get out of your vehicle and stare in awe at these ancient towering giants some of which are 800 plus years old. The huge branches stretch out above draped majestically with moss. The largest tree in this particular grove has a circumference of 9 metres and stands a proud 76 metres high. It was once much taller, but its top snapped off in a horrific windstorm in 1997. It is still, however, a sight to behold. The air seems denser, thicker, moister. Your breathing is as slow and calm as the zephyr which gently moves through the trees. You listen to the forest speak. You take in its noises, you breathe its peace. You are transported to a place where time doesn’t exist. It doesn’t matter. After thoughtful meditation, you decide to continue on to your final destination. You pull out of the parking lot and onto the winding highway a much calmer you. You continue along towards BC’s rugged west coast. Before you even get there, you can almost smell the salt in the air. You finally have it…your first glimpse of the Pacific Ocean.

You pull into the famed Long Beach with its miles of pristine sand. You rush from your vehicle and head straight for the crashing waves. You follow the thundering roar of the surf and disappear into the sheets of ocean mist. You spend the remainder of the afternoon exploring the coves and beach, checking out the tidal pools, watching a few brave surfers ride the giant curling waves, following the shore birds, mesmerized by it all. You end it all with a glorious west coast sunset.

Things I Love About Nelson # 6: Cottonwood Market

Every Saturday from the end of April to the end of October an area just on the edge of town called Cottonwood Market magically comes to life. I try to go as often as I can.

It's more than just a spot to buy local produce. It is the largest market in the West Kootenays with a unique setting beside some waterfalls and a small park. It's the stomping grounds of young and old alike and is a mecca for the diversity that colours this region.

It's a time to mingle, zen out and take it all in. It is a spot where one can find organic farm products, ethnic baking, preserves, crafts, import clothing, jewelry, and various collectibles or used items.

It's also a spot to mellow out and listen to some local musical talent, be it a band with a Latino flare or Russian gypsy music. The locals aren't shy about rhythmically moving to the beat of the drum, stomping their feet or simply nodding their head to the flow of the music.

One can attend every single market and honestly say that no two are ever alike. Creativity and a unique culture unquestionably flourish here. There have been many visitors who I have taken to Cottonwood and the response is almost universally big eyes, gaping mouth, nodding head and then finally, "ah...this is Nelson." If you are ever in the region, make sure you stop by the Cottonwood market where tourists and locals alike converge for an unrivaled Kootenay experience.

Planning

There are some roads that we perhaps would never have ventured down if we knew where they were going to lead. At times there are unavoidable completely unpredictable twists. However, I still believe that the best way to get to where we are going is to know our final destination. After that we can decide how we are going to get there. Oh yes, it is perfectly normal at times when we are half-way there to decide that we'd rather be going somewhere else. We might do an about face or venture down some off the beaten path. Sometimes we are in a hurry and will hop onto the autobahn, and at times, we'd rather take the scenic route and enjoy the journey. But however we choose to get there, we must first know where "there" is.

moon rising over Kootenay Lake

~ Trying to predict the future is like trying to drive down a country road at night with no lights while looking out the back window.

Peter Drucker

Crossing Boarders

Finally…the plane lands. Now before I go on, I must let you know that the night before I left, I had only had about four hours sleep. Further, I’ve never done well at sleeping in moving vehicles. So in total, I had only had at most five hours of shut eye in about 48 hours. All this to say that I was probably a bit of a mess. It was in this state that I made my way through customs. I handed the young man at the booth my passport, opened to the picture. He took it. He looked at the picture, then at me, then back down at the picture. Still looking at my passport, he inquires, “so, where are you off to next?” Without thinking, I reply, “I’m kind of tired, I think I am just going to make my way downtown and then look for a hotel.” He and his colleague next to him immediately burst out into peels of laughter. They don’t even try to contain their giggles. He gives me a wide grin and then with smirk still on his face says, “So how long will you be staying in the country?” To which I reply, “Oh,” slight pause, “now I get it…this isn’t friendly chitchat to pass the time while you’re determining whether or not I really look like my passport photo. This is actually part of your job.” Then the second round of loud guffaws ensues. At this point, I am sure that he thinks that this is utterly hopeless. With a flick of the wrist and a smile, he waves me through and tells me to have a good time. And I could have sworn that I heard him say that the men in white jackets would be waiting for me down at the end of the hall.

Any guess where these photos were taken? If you’re not quite sure, don’t worry. More photos and proper hints are on their way.

Going, going....

Gone...
As you see, I am off. I will try to post pics with snippets when I have time and can find an internet cafe or wireless. Your job is to figure out where I am...anywhere along the way. Let me know, and if you guess right, there just might be a special prize in it for you.

Coming Soon...

...to a Blog Near You:

Where in the World is Carla?

Stay tuned - Details to be announced.

House Keeping

Dear fellow bloggers, I can't believe how incredibly patient you are with me and that I haven't received more scolding. It's now been almost three weeks since "Lie Detector," and somehow I still haven't confessed. It's not that I didn't have intentions of telling you before now, but somehow life just kind of got away on me and here we are now, three weeks later.

So, the moment you've all been waiting for....drum roll please. Yes, that's right...Lie Detector revealed. Well, the truth is, that it was indeed the last statement that is not true. You know, the one about chocolate being my biggest vice. Yes, I love chocolate, but my biggest vice? Come on, how does one even measure that? A chocolate snob I would have conceded, yes. But vice? I don't even eat chocolate every day. I once had a roommate in university who needed chocolate every day, at least one bar. Ironically she was with me when I was flashed in front of that convent. Chocolate might be one of her vices, but certainly not mine. I rarely if ever touch the American stuff, too waxy and often sickly sweet. I do like the Swiss chocolate, the dark stuff preferably and it's even better if they are truffles. I did find a bar embedded with dried cherries and I quite enjoyed that. Yum. But biggest vice? I don't know. I'm going to have to ponder my vices for a bit. Perhaps that will make for another post if I get on the "confessions" train.

As for the rest, yes, indeed, I did get those Arab men to dance for me, scarves and all. I know, hard to believe, but when I was younger, I was able to convince many a people to do many a thing. The train, yep, happened right here in Nelson. How could I not get on? How often does an opportunity like that come around? The tornado? That was simply one sampling of a bizarre string of events that plagued me that entire trip. Workshops, planes, those places are fertile grounds for interesting events and misinterpretations. Life is an adventure. sometimes you just have to run with it. Chocolate, it's kind of like wine. I only take it if it's the really good stuff.