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midnightsjaneSo, cactuswatcher asked me to talk about life in the Slocan Valley.
I ramble a bit, so I'll cut:
A little geography lesson first: The Slocan Valley is a long narrow valley in the southern interior of British Columbia. It is in the Valhalla Range of mountains, is about 100 km. long from north to south, and at its widest is about 5 km from edge to edge. It runs from the junction of highway 6 at Passmore north to New Denver and Nakusp. The Slocan River flows down the middle of the Valley, from Slocan Lake, past tranquil farms, small towns like Slocan City where logging was king, and silver was once mined, to eventually meet with bigger rivers on the way to the sea. In the years I was there, it felt like a tiny bubble separate from the so-called real world. In truth, the Slocan Valley was as much a state of mind as a geographical place, at least to those of us who were there in the glory days of the late 1960's and early '70's.
It was one of those magical places that brought together people from many places and turned them into members of a special community; at least, we all thought it was pretty special!
I arrived in the Slocan in the spring of 1972 with my husband Johnny, and our friends Ray and Michelle. We were looking to "get back to the land", to find a piece of land we could live on, grow our own food, build a house, have some animals, and generally live the dream inspired by the words of some of the gurus of the day: Tune in, turn on and drop out, as Timothy Leary urged. We joined a growing number of young people who were dismayed by the crass commercialism of society, opposed to the Vietnam war, and rather naïve about what it actually would take to survive living off the land. There were a number of expatriate Americans who chose to leave the USA rather than go to war in Vietnam, and they were joined by young Canadians like us. On the whole, the newcomers to the Valley were university educated, idealistic and artistic; there were writers and musicians and teachers and others. We all found ourselves in this narrow little valley, and set about to make our dream of the ideal society come true, the dream of the Counterculture. We weren't the first to do so; the Valley has been home to many other dreamers, like the Doukhobours, who fled from Czarist Russia to preserve their own ideals. I remember our neighbour Polly Verigin saying bemusedly to me that she couldn't understand why we would want to live so primitively, without electricity or running water; she'd done it as a child and wanted no more of that, thank you!
Johnny and I bought a piece of land on the other side of the Slocan River from the highway, near Winlaw. It was just over 3 acres of trees, with a little creek running down one side, with a small field by the road. It turned out that we couldn't buy property with our friends for various reasons, so we went on our own. That summer we cleared a space for the house; cut down trees by hand and gathered poles for the log house we had planned. We lived in a tent; a tent with electricity, LOL. The first thing we did was bring in hydro from the road to a single pole in the middle of the clearing so we could use some power tools. I have a picture somewhere of me in the middle of the clearing in front of our makeshift kitchen, ironing a uniform for work..because I had a job working at the hospital in Castlegar. I believe I was the hospital's token hippy! I planted a huge garden up by the road; that first year was such hard work. I planted over 80 tomato plants, 24 hills of zucchini, rows of corn, peas, beans, the works. We built a chicken coop and had a flock of hens for eggs, and even tried to raise turkeys. Unfortunately for the turkeys, they didn't know they weren't supposed to be able to fly over the fence, and ended up being dinner for the coyotes. We built a log house (a very nice one, too.) My husband turned out to be a very capable carpenter, and a hard worker when the need was there. For awhile, life seemed to be going along very smoothly, and we were getting the hang of this living off the land. Unfortunately, it didn't last. Winter came, and it was bloody hard work. But I did learn to wield a chain saw, and cut firewood, and keep a wood stove going. It got bloody cold in the Slocan in the winter!
One of the things about the Valley that made it interesting was the fact that the hippy counterculture we were part of was challenging a lot of societal norms; we were all about open relationships, not being jealous or trying to fit our partners into little relationship boxes; that was not cool at all. Most everyone I knew was trying to be a free spirit, not tied down by details like monogamy. It was doomed from the start, but we all gave it a good try. But being realistic, not very many people can cope with a life that complicated; sometimes it seemed like we all needed score cards to see who was with whom, and it was supposed to be not a big deal if your partner had other lovers. But for most of us, it really was..and a lot of relationships, including mine, just fell apart.
Out of all that, came something else that had a huge affect on me. The Women's Movement, the rebirth of the feminist movement, and the growing feeling that I wanted to be more than I was, led me to the local feminist group who met every week to talk about the issues, to talk about how we felt as women, and to explore who we were, apart from our relationships with men. It was huge to me, and it changed me significantly. I think the woman I am today traces directly back to those evenings in the Slocan Valley, with all the other strong and capable women I met there.
In retrospect, I'm amazed that we were able to survive at all, and to create a community that still, over 30 years later, brings back memories and images of long summer days, skinny dipping in the river with friends and neighbours and strangers too, and gatherings in the meadow by the Vallican Whole community centre (built by volunteers); in one corner of the field a string quartet is playing Vivaldi, in another kids and adults are dancing (there was always dancing), and in another area, planning sessions are in progress for the new "free school". It was such an incredible energy, in those early days, fueled by our deep belief that what we were doing was creating a new way of being in this world. It was also fueled by a whole lot of marijuana, and some other recreational drugs. A lot of people spent a lot of time being pretty stoned. But there was a lot of hard work being done too; most of us were unemployed, and making money was something we did grudgingly, only because it was necessary to buy the things we couldn't grow. Some people did better than others; I think I was one of the only hippies in the Valley who held a full time job! A tree planting co-op was formed, and a lot of my friend spent months doing that back breaking job. There were artists and potters who were successful, who did beautiful work, actors who created a vibrant theatre in the Valley, weavers and spinners and people who raised goats for their wool for the spinners,(I once drove a friend and her Nubian nanny goat down the Valley to a farm with a Billy goat; the goat sat in the back of my Toyota) and writers, and one person who logged with a team of horses (and incidentally later became the Member of the Provincial Parliament for the area) and teachers, and nurses, and every single one of them was an essential part of the Slocan Valley I knew.
I still think about my days in the Valley; even though all this time has passed, it remains in my mind one of the truly important times of my life. I learned so much about life there; I learned I could build my own cabin in the woods with my own two hands (with the help of friends). I learned I could live on my own, and survive. I learned that growing up was hard work. I made life-long friends there. And sadly, I learned that sometimes the dream doesn't always last, and the only option is to walk away. I left the Valley in 1977, to return to Vancouver, a newly divorced person, ready to start over. Which I did...and it's still a work in progress.
Hope you found this interesting! I could go on, and on. As I wrote, I kept remembering..
cactuswatcher asked me to talk about life in the Slocan Valley.I ramble a bit, so I'll cut:
A little geography lesson first: The Slocan Valley is a long narrow valley in the southern interior of British Columbia. It is in the Valhalla Range of mountains, is about 100 km. long from north to south, and at its widest is about 5 km from edge to edge. It runs from the junction of highway 6 at Passmore north to New Denver and Nakusp. The Slocan River flows down the middle of the Valley, from Slocan Lake, past tranquil farms, small towns like Slocan City where logging was king, and silver was once mined, to eventually meet with bigger rivers on the way to the sea. In the years I was there, it felt like a tiny bubble separate from the so-called real world. In truth, the Slocan Valley was as much a state of mind as a geographical place, at least to those of us who were there in the glory days of the late 1960's and early '70's.
It was one of those magical places that brought together people from many places and turned them into members of a special community; at least, we all thought it was pretty special!
I arrived in the Slocan in the spring of 1972 with my husband Johnny, and our friends Ray and Michelle. We were looking to "get back to the land", to find a piece of land we could live on, grow our own food, build a house, have some animals, and generally live the dream inspired by the words of some of the gurus of the day: Tune in, turn on and drop out, as Timothy Leary urged. We joined a growing number of young people who were dismayed by the crass commercialism of society, opposed to the Vietnam war, and rather naïve about what it actually would take to survive living off the land. There were a number of expatriate Americans who chose to leave the USA rather than go to war in Vietnam, and they were joined by young Canadians like us. On the whole, the newcomers to the Valley were university educated, idealistic and artistic; there were writers and musicians and teachers and others. We all found ourselves in this narrow little valley, and set about to make our dream of the ideal society come true, the dream of the Counterculture. We weren't the first to do so; the Valley has been home to many other dreamers, like the Doukhobours, who fled from Czarist Russia to preserve their own ideals. I remember our neighbour Polly Verigin saying bemusedly to me that she couldn't understand why we would want to live so primitively, without electricity or running water; she'd done it as a child and wanted no more of that, thank you!
Johnny and I bought a piece of land on the other side of the Slocan River from the highway, near Winlaw. It was just over 3 acres of trees, with a little creek running down one side, with a small field by the road. It turned out that we couldn't buy property with our friends for various reasons, so we went on our own. That summer we cleared a space for the house; cut down trees by hand and gathered poles for the log house we had planned. We lived in a tent; a tent with electricity, LOL. The first thing we did was bring in hydro from the road to a single pole in the middle of the clearing so we could use some power tools. I have a picture somewhere of me in the middle of the clearing in front of our makeshift kitchen, ironing a uniform for work..because I had a job working at the hospital in Castlegar. I believe I was the hospital's token hippy! I planted a huge garden up by the road; that first year was such hard work. I planted over 80 tomato plants, 24 hills of zucchini, rows of corn, peas, beans, the works. We built a chicken coop and had a flock of hens for eggs, and even tried to raise turkeys. Unfortunately for the turkeys, they didn't know they weren't supposed to be able to fly over the fence, and ended up being dinner for the coyotes. We built a log house (a very nice one, too.) My husband turned out to be a very capable carpenter, and a hard worker when the need was there. For awhile, life seemed to be going along very smoothly, and we were getting the hang of this living off the land. Unfortunately, it didn't last. Winter came, and it was bloody hard work. But I did learn to wield a chain saw, and cut firewood, and keep a wood stove going. It got bloody cold in the Slocan in the winter!
One of the things about the Valley that made it interesting was the fact that the hippy counterculture we were part of was challenging a lot of societal norms; we were all about open relationships, not being jealous or trying to fit our partners into little relationship boxes; that was not cool at all. Most everyone I knew was trying to be a free spirit, not tied down by details like monogamy. It was doomed from the start, but we all gave it a good try. But being realistic, not very many people can cope with a life that complicated; sometimes it seemed like we all needed score cards to see who was with whom, and it was supposed to be not a big deal if your partner had other lovers. But for most of us, it really was..and a lot of relationships, including mine, just fell apart.
Out of all that, came something else that had a huge affect on me. The Women's Movement, the rebirth of the feminist movement, and the growing feeling that I wanted to be more than I was, led me to the local feminist group who met every week to talk about the issues, to talk about how we felt as women, and to explore who we were, apart from our relationships with men. It was huge to me, and it changed me significantly. I think the woman I am today traces directly back to those evenings in the Slocan Valley, with all the other strong and capable women I met there.
In retrospect, I'm amazed that we were able to survive at all, and to create a community that still, over 30 years later, brings back memories and images of long summer days, skinny dipping in the river with friends and neighbours and strangers too, and gatherings in the meadow by the Vallican Whole community centre (built by volunteers); in one corner of the field a string quartet is playing Vivaldi, in another kids and adults are dancing (there was always dancing), and in another area, planning sessions are in progress for the new "free school". It was such an incredible energy, in those early days, fueled by our deep belief that what we were doing was creating a new way of being in this world. It was also fueled by a whole lot of marijuana, and some other recreational drugs. A lot of people spent a lot of time being pretty stoned. But there was a lot of hard work being done too; most of us were unemployed, and making money was something we did grudgingly, only because it was necessary to buy the things we couldn't grow. Some people did better than others; I think I was one of the only hippies in the Valley who held a full time job! A tree planting co-op was formed, and a lot of my friend spent months doing that back breaking job. There were artists and potters who were successful, who did beautiful work, actors who created a vibrant theatre in the Valley, weavers and spinners and people who raised goats for their wool for the spinners,(I once drove a friend and her Nubian nanny goat down the Valley to a farm with a Billy goat; the goat sat in the back of my Toyota) and writers, and one person who logged with a team of horses (and incidentally later became the Member of the Provincial Parliament for the area) and teachers, and nurses, and every single one of them was an essential part of the Slocan Valley I knew.
I still think about my days in the Valley; even though all this time has passed, it remains in my mind one of the truly important times of my life. I learned so much about life there; I learned I could build my own cabin in the woods with my own two hands (with the help of friends). I learned I could live on my own, and survive. I learned that growing up was hard work. I made life-long friends there. And sadly, I learned that sometimes the dream doesn't always last, and the only option is to walk away. I left the Valley in 1977, to return to Vancouver, a newly divorced person, ready to start over. Which I did...and it's still a work in progress.
Hope you found this interesting! I could go on, and on. As I wrote, I kept remembering..
