I know about the mountains. Or more accurately, they know about me.
I know about slowing. About quite small streets and familiar faces and a quick walk to the grocery store. About the walk along the tracks overlooking the lake. About meeting a friend on the corner and going for a beer. About walking home up steep hills and feeling your breath find rhythm.
I know about knowing. About the restaurant that was here before this one, and the one before that. About how we used to drive half an hour to go to Tim Hortons for fun. About how it was always impossible to run a quick errand with my mom because every second person knew her and stopped to chat. About my sister getting kicked out of a bar because she used my ID and the bouncer went to high school with me. About the house my first love lived in. About the smell of the theatre before the audience arrives. About the best breakfast buns in the world.
I know about what you say. About the charm of this place. About a mecca for outdoor sports. About a hippie haven. About yoga. About raves. About weed. About natural beauty. About craft breweries and local coffee. About coming for a weekend and buying land and never leaving.
I know about change. About zero percent occupancy rates and increasing rates of people experiencing homelessness. About fentanyl killing off young people. About severe wildfire risk. About the ongoing conflict around transphobia and inclusivity of trans and non-binary people at the local women’s centre. About growing up knowing nearly no people of colour. About growing up knowing nearly no queer people – especially not young queer people. And I know about watching the Pride Parade as an adult, led by openly queer high school students, and weeping with relief and hope.
I know about belonging. My own belonging in dressing rooms and choir rehearsals and my mom’s kitchen. And others who belonged before me. Draft dodgers from the Vietnam war looking for a more peaceful existence. Doukhobors fleeing persecution in Russia in the late 1800’s. The Ktunaxa, the Syilx, and the Sinixt peoples who have lived on this land for thousands of years. The Sinixt, or the people of the bull trout, whose territory stretches from what we know as Revelstoke to what we know as Washington. The Sinixt who were declared ‘extinct’ in 1956 by the federal government and are fighting to prove their right to land, and their existence, to this day.
I know about family. About my mom who gave out apples for Halloween because of my diabetic brother. My dad who was better than Google and knew about everything. My sister who used to cover her room in posters of Good Charlotte. My brother who throws a wicked snowball. My mom who we say gets more done by 9am than the average person does in a day. My dad who introduced us to jazz and Paul Simon. My mom who insisted her second wedding have a huge dance party. My dad who lives alone and bikes to work and appreciates a good mezcal. My stepdad who works to better the world and this small town. My sister who knows how to make any room cozy and beautiful. My brother who wept through his whole wedding. My stepdad who has an astounding memory for dates and a baffling taste in movies. My mom who swims in the lake in the winter. My dad who started going to counselling at age 74 to know himself better. My sister who is my truest soulmate. My brother who sings to his baby in the bathtub while talking to me on Zoom.
I know about the land. About coming around that corner on the highway and seeing the city and the bridge across the lake. About Pulpit Rock and the innumerable times I’ve trekked or meandered to the top to look out over the city and point to my house and my school. About the sound of the trees in my mom’s backyard – trembling aspen – rustling softly even without wind. About the deep silence of a heavy snowfall. About the astounding darkness of 7pm. About stars. About the lake. Oh, the lake. Cold and clear and cherished.
And I know about the waterfall bursting with spring runoff.
And I know about the glacier dazzling in the distance on a clear day.
And I know about the old growth forest and the salmon spawning.
And I know about the mountains. Or more accurately, they know about me.
[View from Pulpit Rock. Taken by me. ]
[Photo taken by my dad, Bill Metcalfe.]
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Works Cited
Levin, Dan. “With Flood of Urbanites, a Canadian Hippie Haven Tries to Keep Its Mellow.” The New York Times, Dec. 11, 2016, https://www.nytimes.com/2016/12/11/world/americas/nelson-canada-hippies-urbanites-british-columbia.html. Accessed February 10, 2021.
Mangelsdorf, Rob. “Paradise, thy name is Nelson.” Vancouver Is Awesome, Dec. 12, 2017, https://www.vancouverisawesome.com/courier-archive/living/paradise-thy-name-is-nelson-3063745. Accessed February 10, 2021.
Metcalfe, Bill. “Four members of Nelson and District Women’s Centre board resign.” BC Local News, July 6, 2020, https://www.bclocalnews.com/news/four-members-of-nelson-and-district-womens-centre-board-resign/. Accessed February 10, 2021.
Schafer, Timothy. “Vacancy rate drops to zero in latest Report card on Homelessness.” The Nelson Daily, October 14, 2018. http://thenelsondaily.com/news/vacancy-rate-drops-zero-latest-report-card-homelessness. Accessed February 10, 2021.
Wood, Stephanie. “I wanted to show them I wasn’t extinct.” The Narwhal, October 31, 2020. https://thenarwhal.ca/sinixt-people-fight-extinction-supreme-court-canada/. Accessed February 10, 2021.