It’s official.

As of yesterday, we were finally struck from the waiting list and received our very own post office box. No more general delivery for us. We have a number and a key!

We are now genuine residents of Kimberley, British Columbia.

 

 

 

Of course, I recognize this is a little presumptuous on my part. After all, I’ve heard that in order to call yourself a local around here, you must be a descendant of a relative that actually worked in the mine.

So, yes, there’s that…

However, after fifty days of our log home life, I feel quasi-qualified to make a few observations about Kimberley.

In no particular order of importance, I would like to say this:

• Crosswalk Love – we have never encountered such considerate drivers. I can be half a block from any crosswalk but if I even look vaguely in the direction of those painted street-stripes, all the traffic comes to a screaming halt in anticipation of my crossing. This even applies to the highway. If we’re somewhere in the remote vicinity of the highway crossing on the Rails2Trails path, the traffic immediately backs up to ensure our safe passage. We cannot stop remarking about this. It happens constantly, and every single time, we turn to each other and say, “Can you believe this?”
• WildLife Wanderings  – it started right beside our house with the deer giving birth to her twin fawns and has continued with multiple sightings every day. Young fuzzy-antlered bucks, mamas with babies that boing-boing their little dotted rumps up the hill, chipmunks, squirrels, robins and hummingbirds, our deck has become an observation platform for a steady stream of nature’s finest.

 

 

 

•  Friendliness – it doesn’t matter who we encounter, the conversations are often the kind that are usually reserved for old friends. People have time here. They talk. It’s wonderful. It feels very inclusive and open. Maybe it’s because there are so many people who, like us, have chosen to live here and are all from somewhere else?
• Out & About aka OCD – If my knees don’t fall off with all the activity,  I’m pretty sure this will be the place that ramps my fitness level to its all-time high. The cycling is safe and the range of where we can go is extensive. Then there are the zillion hiking trails that start within a four-minute walk from our front door in B.C.’s largest municipal park.  There are lakes, rivers and golfing. Hot springs are nearby. There is a myriad of camping opportunities and, when winter comes, it sounds like there’s even more to do. Best of all, there are a lot of like-minded people doing these things. The lifestyle feels infectious.

 

 

 

• Oomph-Pah-Pah – In 1973, the City of Kimberley recognized that the world’s largest zinc and lead mine wasn’t going to last forever. They needed something else to put the little town on the map. A Bavarian theme was adopted and the centre of town became the platzl, a pedestrian-only shopping area. The Bavarian City of the Rockies theme has slowly faded as hip new stores and funky shops and restaurants open. Now, instead of a unified theme, there is just enough wavy wood facades to make it quirky. I will admit I resisted using the word platzl, but once I embraced it, it’s my new favourite word to say. In fact, I try to incorporate using platzl in as many sentences as possible. Ask Kevin. He’ll confirm this. Maybe ask him if he’s been to the platzl lately or if he can think of any words that rhyme with platzl. He loves that game. Really.

 

 

• Racks & Ropes – When we moved here, we put our bike rack on the back of our vehicle to transport our bikes. It has not  come off. Everywhere you look, all the local vehicles have either a rooftop rack to carry their canoe, kayak or stand up paddle board or they have a bike rack permanently fixed to the back or all of the above.  I’m sure that is why we feel so safe on the roads, almost everyone is either cycling or about to get on their bike or on their way to an outdoor activity.
• Good For You Syndrome – a couple of years ago, Kevin and I were training for our Berg Lake hike. We had on big packs and were hiking near Banff. We ended up in conversation with a thirty-something-year-old couple. When they found out we were training for that hike, they said, “Good for you!” It was said in a tone reserved for babies who have taken their first steps. It seemed they were not only incredulous that people as old as us were still able to hike, but utterly shocked that we were even alive. Here in Kimberley, no one is saying ‘good for you’. We are surrounded by some incredibly fit seniors. People who retire here are anything but retiring. Trust me when I tell you it’s quite humbling when a man in his 80s passes you as you gasp up the trail.
• Kids Can Be Kids – not only is the town full of active oldsters, but it’s also stuffed full of young families. Houses are affordable and the outdoor lifestyle promises a different way of raising kids. As a result, elementary schools are bursting with new enrolment. School was still in session when we first arrived and we were thrilled to see young kids with backpacks running down sidewalks, riding their bikes and generally getting themselves home with nary a helicoptering parent in sight.
• Rain – It has rained a few times since we’ve been here. Each time I am shocked by how quickly it’s over. Up until this move, I have lived in the West Coast temperate rainforest my entire life where, when the rains come, well…they stay. I am still not used to how fast this mountain weather moves through but I think I’m liking it. A lot.

 

 

 

This is by no means a comprehensive list, but after a month and a half, it’s what I’ve noticed. I’m still getting used to the dry air. I find it remarkable to find no dew in the morning. Instead of the loamy wet moss champagne air of a West Coast trail, here, the forest path gives off the aroma of pine resin, rustling grasses and a hint of hot sand.

Still, I sometimes feel surprised to find myself living here.

But, most often, I feel like I’m as at home as I’ve ever been. Shortly after we moved, and surrounded by all these Alp-like mountains, it felt absolutely necessary to re-read Heidi.

All the scenes were there; the moonlight through the round window of Heidi’s hayloft bedroom, the high alpine meadows, the slabs of fresh cheese on the wooden board, her wonderful grandfather…it was all as I’d remembered from so long ago.

But when I found this sentence, it made me wonder if my childhood self wanted me to revisit that book simply to remind me of one singular truth;

 

“Then, knowing that whatever the place, she was still at home…”