It’s easy to love nature when your time in it is largely limited to weekend camping trips or annual vacations. To learn to respect it and really learn from it, however, takes more prolonged exposure, ideally under at least somewhat hostile conditions.
I never thought of myself as having overly romantic notions about nature, but the past couple of weeks have taught me otherwise. Chris, on the other hand, has surprised me with her ability to endure days of harsh weather conditions. Through it all she’s mended a tent, cooked excellent meals, and spent hours sitting in the tent waiting out storms without complaint, often reading a whole book in a single day while she does it. I, however, find myself responding to the almost unrelenting rain by wanting to accelerate our movement across Canada until finally conditions change. My patience has now worn thin to the point no camping spot gets more than 24 hours. If by then, conditions haven’t improved, we move on.
But yesterday morning we met a man by the name of Keith who lives year round in his trailer on the eastern slopes of the Rockies. About the time we were leaving our apartment in Metchosin, he was digging out of snow drifts at least as high as his trailer so he could move to a location just a few hundred metres from our last campsite. Keith had agreed to give us a jump-start, as our battery had died, and later, just as we were getting ready to leave, he brought us some hot stew. He declined the offer of money for his help, and asked us to look him up if we came back through the area on our return trip.
Keith lives in the Rockies because in 2005 he lost his job. Not long thereafter he lost his home and his wife left him. Now it’s just him, his 4WD Blazer, and a small trailer he moves from one place to the next as the seasons change and resources allow. In these times, it’s unfortunately not hard to believe Keith is far from alone.
Keith wasn’t complaining about the weather. In fact, after living through a winter that involved ten feet or more of snow, today’s rainstorm was to him a walk in the park. And his willingness to stay in one place for months at a time means he sees things the rest of us miss. He asked if we had seen the mother black bear with her two cubs living on the ridge right above our camp. We hadn’t. He mentioned a grizzly he had seen in the area not long ago as well. Then he gave us a couple of hand warmers, came back a little later with that hot stew, told us to keep the container and wished us a happy journey.
So I find myself a bit ashamed I’ve let nature get to me and how quickly after leaving camp yesterday morning I forgot all about Keith, who like Zeus sitting right behind while we drive from one place to the next, has learned to roll with the punches. Instead, when it appeared our sunroof had broken today, because something went wrong with the bag strapped to our roof rack, I got frustrated and angry. And when we got a large rock chip in our windshield, I decided I couldn’t take it any more and we called it a day. But reflecting back on Keith I realize nature and all its associated mishaps aren’t the problem, my attitude toward them is. So let it rain and rocks along the road fly where they may. Like most things in life, it’s beyond my control anyway. However, being a bit more like Keith - and Zeus - in the face of it is within my control.
We’ll be leaving Medicine Hat this morning, and entering the Central Time Zone upon crossing the border into Saskatchewan. We’re not sure where we’ll be tonight, or how long we’ll stay there. Regardless, it’s probably time to find a place to stop and experience for a while, no matter what the weather is like.
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