For the previous 18 months we
allowed ourselves to become weekend warriors, both adventuring hard and countering it with audlting. There was also some incredibly difficult times,
for many reasons I’m not ready to write about, but there was much
celebration in-between and lessons and the heartache. After much
consideration, I declined a permanent job offer as big-wig recruiter, and
allowed my contract at the Mine to expire. Mike
ended his 15 year career at the Mill by scrawling down a simple “I Quit” with
his end date and handed it to upper management. His supervisor admitted that
throughout his years in the industry, many men talk about leaving, but not many
follow through. I hadn’t traveled outside of this country or even this province
in well over two years. September came and went due to COVID travel
restrictions, and instead of going to Australia as originally planned, we
agreed to set our savings aside and opted to moving to the Ski town of
Smithers, BC until the boarders open.
We found the perfect place for
two Canadian Snow Birds: before entering the town
site, turn right, where an eight kilometer snaky, dirt road will lead
to a one room A Frame – we’ve come to call it The Cabin. There was a loft
offering a bed and a sort of a refuge, as it created the illusion of privacy.
Mike was far more unsure about such a small space than I ever had been, for me,
I was home. The loft would allow for further sleep for Mike, as I often woke up
before him in order to calm my crazy with a workout and bribe Hugo with a
literal trail of breadcrumbs to come on a walk with me, thus acquiring the
necessary alone time for two introverts in one relationship. A kitchen and
bathroom were tucked into the back of the tiny triangle, but the star of the
show was a small wood burning stove which would need regular stokings’ during
long hard winter days.
Mike has never pretended to understand the type of
restlessness that surges in my soul when I’m limited to one location, or the
feelings of exhilaration I get when traveling to new places. Regardless, he
supported my need for something new, being Smither, even for a little while, after which will be Australia for a year. Although I have
some internal struggles with this town, I’m so thankful to have found my
people, as well as Mike’s people, who have become my own. Conversations arose, unchangeable goals discussed and agreements were made in that Vanderhoof will ultimately become our home town. We are finding a way of balancing my nomadic
tendencies and the need for some stability for Mike in order to calm both of our souls.
Not long after purchasing two seasons passes for the
local ski hill, we agreed to come up to Smithers a week early in order to
set ourselves up for a happily anticipated long, snowy winter. I hadn’t gotten
firewood as a primary source of heat since I first moved up to Vanderhoof and
lived on the Bearhead. Mike and I went for firewood when there was frost in the
air and I had a layered up with lined Lulu’s under my jeans and several wicking
layers on top. It was my first time having to actively help fall trees and
honest to god, the first few times we did this, I had to fight against every
natural instinct in my body to not run the hell away as Mike made the first cut
in each tree. With one specific attempt at tree falling, the hefty Pine shifted
the wrong way and pinched the saw. After trying to talk him
into leaving his chainsaw (perhaps I was a little dramatic in
suggesting this), Mike attached a study towrope from the tree to the
truck. As I watched in safe distance away the truck pull against gravity and in
turn the massive tree fell across the road, my whole body tensed to such an
extent that my ovaries hurt. I’m not even kidding you. My adrenalin still
surging and my knees quaking I loaded the truck with the body of the tree. We
sipped on some hard earned beers that evening while paying cribbage and eating
pizza.
We spent our final full day outside before heading
back to Vanderhoof in order to meet up with some people to view our house, who
were interested in temporary calling it their home for a couple of years as
rent it. We tossed our cross country skis into the box of the truck. Hugo
hopped into the back seat, and with coffee in hands, we were off. There was
well over a foot of snow when I clicked into my skies. We broke our own trails
and manoeuvred over streams and up some pretty steep inclines. Mike admired the
open cutblocks and scanned the area for any wildlife with his .22 slung over
his back. Once we were satisfied with the first ski of the season, we threw on
hiking boots and Kevlar gloves and Mike successfully fell two huge pines and
they lazily slid up the bank following the truck. We snacked of farm fresh egg
sandwiches admiring our overloaded truck and discussing the amount of snow sure
to come. It was the kind of day that reminded us of the adventure to due to a
leap of faith into the unknown.
Because there's no rules that says we have to
live life like everybody else.
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