I took a stroll along the river this evening. After days of self-isolation (the natural state for a writer), I stepped out of the house, turned right and walked the half-block to the path running along Elk. The sun warmed the afternoon and although it dropped toward the ridge of the Lizards, in a sweater and a vest, I was fine. The snow on the path was packed. Fat bike tire treads wove between a multitude of different footprints.
I walked a kilometer or so and then back. I must have seen forty people. And two dogs. On a normal day, this evening walk garners two dogs dragging owners and not much more.
There was a kid, maybe two and a half or three in a pink onesie snow suit and a bunny hat stumbling along trying to keep up with her parents. A couple sat side-by-side in lawn chairs on top of the plowed berm with a veritable feast of cheese, crackers, chips, beer and wine. All the benches were occupied. A guy fished. On the other side a bonfire burned with five or six people around. At the junction of Coal Creek and the Elk, a raft of kids and adults played in the snow.
Fernie Folks out having a good time, the mountains glowing in the sunlight.
In these seemingly dire days, drop the screen. Drop the phone. Drop the house. Drop it all and take a walk. Appreciate the valley we live in, the life we have and the day at hand.
We are lucky to live here. Accept that luck, embrace it and enjoy it. That is why we’ve chosen to live here.
We cannot change what is happening in the world right now, but we can relish our life here and enjoy every moment of life in the Elk Valley.
This is our life.
Let’s keep living it.
