Peace In The Mountains

Years ago we bought a cabin in a little valley community along the Bow River. It was a little over an hour drive from our house in the city. We had some friends there and our younger kids knew quite a few kids. It was such a special time in our lives and I have such fond memories. of our time there. A beautiful oasis hidden away out on the bald ass Alberta prairie. In fact, it was called Hidden Valley.

Seventeen years ago our daughter wanted to buy a cabin in the mountains. Her new husbands brother had a small place in a lakeside town in the Columbia Valley and she wanted a place of her own. They asked us to buy the cabin with them to cut the costs and we agreed. We owned it together for a few years but we seldom went there in the summer as it was three hours away. We did use it in the winter time though as it was a short drive to a ski hill and the family liked skiing and snowboarding. And so it continued this way. Eventually my daughter and her husband chose to have us buy them out in order to purchase half of the brothers cabin. The real estate prices had fallen considerably so it made no sense to sell the property. We decided to renovate the place and make it out own. The yard was huge and the gardens were lovely with fruit trees and a vegetable garden.

Not long after, our Hidden Valley hideaway became a casualty of the 2013 massive flood which left the entire resort under water for three weeks. We couldn’t even drive in to see our house because an entire home had floated onto the main road and blocked all vehicular entry. We pulled on our rubber boots and made the trek to our little house. The devastation was all around us but we had high hopes. There had been numerous floods where the river had overrun the banks but our home had never been damaged. Well, no such luck. We took a couple of keepsakes that were on a high shelf and walked away. The water had reached to the top of the walls and even the appliances had moved with the rising waters. We retrieved my fathers golf clubs from the shed and walked away from that part of our lives. The bungalow was on leased land and our lease was coming to an end so the writing was on the wall. We wouldn’t be rebuilding.

That was 2013. That was the year we started spending summers in the Invermere Valley. Our winter cabin now became our all year cabin. After seven years we finally started to explore and get to know the community we accidentally became a part of. In August it was seventeen years since we bought this house, but in reality, it has been our cabin for ten years. Before that it was always “the Invermere house.” My oldest granddaughter G always called it the Lion King house because this was where she first watched that movie.

I remember the summer I decided to redo the early nineteen seventies decor. We pulled out the old lino and carpet. Pre-distressed hickory flooring was put down. That way if someone wrecked something we wouldn’t even notice. Wallboard was removed and drywall installed in its place. New flooring throughout. Doors and bathrooms all updated. Everything was done by local talent. I called a fellow I met in a furniture store who offered to deliver my new couch. He didn;t work there. He just happened to overhear me ask the salesman if they delivered. And he offered. I didn’t know that at the time but it didn’t matter. He left his card on the table after bringing in my new sofa and replaced the hidden key in the shed. In seventeen years I think half the town knew where the key was. Plumbers. Electricians. Painters. Tilers. Delivery guys. Nothing has ever been taken and the place has never had any issues. Anyways. I asked the delivery guy, who is actually an arborist, if he knew any trades. He had 10 people at my house in twenty minutes.

The reno’s weren’t fast as there is something known as Valley time. Some days the weather was just too good to work and everyone seemed to be on the lake enjoying life. I struggled with it at first. It seemed as if no one worked unless I was here. I would leave for a few day and return. Nothing was done. But word would get around that I was back in town and everyone came back to get paid. I would stay for a few days so we would see some progress on the place. In the meantime I worked in the yard and explored the town a bit. Like many resort/vacation towns artisans of all sorts flock to the laid back lifestyle. I admit I loved the vibe but I still wondered why it took forever to get my house back in order. It was so wonderful when we could finally clean and know there was never going to be anymore drywall dust. We could finally enjoy our little piece of paradise.

And paradise it was. No internet or cable TV. We had a couple of the old mini televisions with VCR’s in the bottom. Plus the old projection TV that weights 4000 pounds but refuses to quit. We had a couple of DVD players and close to 800 movies and many TV series box sets. I also emptied about 700 books out of my house and shelved them in the cabin. If you need the internet, the neighbours gave me their password and if you sit really close to the living room wall, its actually kinda of doable. Slow, but it works. And so over time we started to embrace valley life. The Saturday farmers market in the summers. So many lovely crafts and home grown veggies. Palm readers nestled between the baked goods tent and the woodworker. A man sells cotton candy and popcorn while another has lemonade and coffee. If you miss it, you can just head to the town half an hour south on Sunday morning. The same people are there with their wares. We started more hiking and explored the beaches. We bought kayaks and started walking the paths. People came to visit and we even held my daughters Stagette there. Although my husband wasn’t pleased with the thousand dollar price tag to replace part of the deck. It burned in a small fire that weekend. But that’s another story.

After my husband died I struggled to even garden which is really all I live for. But neglect in a garden shows pretty quick and in no time I had two very overgrown and sad looking yards. I finally started work on my yard and its come a long way. But last year I finally got busy in the cabin yard. The raised beds from reclaimed wood. A new retaining wall. Not quite finished but on its way. A little work and a little play. Walks. A bike ride. A little more gardening. Re do the roof. Barbeque the best pork chops ever. The local butcher is amazing. Quiche from the bakery. Amazing. There are some people you see often and chat with. Linda at the Home Hardware. Her son came to the city to become a chef. Ray from Rona who passed away a couple of years ago. The girl who sells the most amazing hand cream that her Mom makes. She remembers me and we chat. Life is slower. People are busy but in a different way. Things have been boom and bust there so they work hard when there is work to be had. But they take the time to relax. The vibe spreads through the air and people who move there find their mind set changing.

Last year my son decided he was tired of inner city dwelling. Its cool for awhile but the energy is so intense with so many people in such small spaces. Its very cool and boho/urban chic. Until it becomes too much. He wanted to move to the cabin. His job allowed him to work from home anywhere so it was a good fit. Except I didn’t have the internet but… now I do. Oh well. The change I have seen in him over the last year has been amazing. He is like me in many ways and is apt to be a bit of a hermit. Last weekend he sort of crashed the after wedding party of the young couple who bought the house next door. A lovely time was had by all I hear. Like I said, there is a vibe. People are friendly but not nosy. There are locals but there are the weekend crew. There are tourists in all seasons, The good thing is you can be as private or as social as you like. But in the end, it is more than simple small town life. There is an energy that comes with being in nature. The lake just down the hill. The mountain trails. The wildlife that shares our space. Mother nature outdid herself when she created the mountains. There is such an incredible feeling as you drive away from the city. The mountains rising blue and majestic beyond the foothills. And soon the highway starts to wind and curve as you are reminded of those who first traversed these valleys between the tall peaks. Before you know it you are cocooned in the middle of these beautiful towers with nothing but trees lining the roads. The sun rises late and sets early. When you open your windows the smell of the earth and trees makes your soul sing. There is nothing lovelier.

It wasn’t my choice to buy this house. It wasn’t somewhere I dreamed of spending my retirement. It certainly wasn’t ever in my mind that this beautiful place would someday help to heal my grief and help me return to living rather than just putting in time. There is a peace in the mountains. It isn’t really the people. It isn’t the towns. It isn’t the fun or the restaurants or the wildlife. The lake or the ski hill. It is the feeling that you get when you stand and look out over the forest. The magic that embraces you as you look up seemingly forever to the tops of so many beautiful peaks. Its the deer that watch you pass by on your walks. It is the calm you feel knowing that no matter what the world throws at you it will be okay. These mountains carry the energy from thousands of years ago and it flows from them like a drug. I have learned to embrace that energy and the peace it brings. Because when you and I are long gone from this world and no one says our name, these mountains will still be here. And a part of our souls will linger in the shadows and the peace we were blessed with will flow out onto another. Someone who stands in awe at the wonders of nature. And they will feel this peace. And so it will continue….