Pemberton Frequently Asked Questions: Reflections on Shame, Pride, and Culture Shock in British Columbia

Dear Pemberton residents:

I am awe inspired by the beauty of your community.  I feel privileged to spend even a couple days in such impeccable mountain scenery.  Just a few brief, minor concerns:

1.   If I accidentally walk onto the wrong grumpy old man’s property, will he open fire on me?

2.   See question 1 but replace “grumpy old man” with “ferocious grizzly bear” and “open fire on me” with “maul me and feast upon my flesh.”

3.   See question 1 but replace “grumpy old man” with “swarms of hornets.” I’m searching for the right metaphor for what they will do but “open fire on me” may be an appropriate use of language to describe them as well.

4.    See question 1 but replace “grumpy old man” with “yeti” and “open fire on me” with “kill me in a way henceforth unimagined by mortal man”.

5.   Have I missed other means through which I can be killed in Pemberton simply by walking through your woods?

Minor issues really.  Just let me know so I can continue to prance around your trails without a care in the world.  But seriously, its so beautiful here, I love it.

Regards,

Ignorant city dweller

I ran into the bees first.  There were wildflowers as far as the eye could see and honeybees buzzed around the fields as if on a mission from God.  They rubbed their bellies in each flower and drank their full of sweet nectar before floating away to spread their gospel of color and scent further along the rolling river.

Only moments after reflecting in wonder on this cosmic dance I noticed hornets spearing nasty stingers at the diving, dodging bees in an eternal chase.  I wanted to sit by the river so I headed towards it but angry swarms of these hornets occupied my target grass.  I have some baggage around wasps that is beyond the scope of this story but was fleshed out in great detail when I was 9 years old in the famous novella “The Scariest Day of all Time”.  Suffice it to say I got off that path fast and became my 9 year-old self-trembling and inching past the flowers.

I was in British Columbia on a 2-day layover in between a family trip to Alaska and my return flight to Hong Kong.  I had gone all out on an expensive AirBNB rental on the outskirts of Pemberton and rented a car to drive up the moment I landed in Vancouver, eager to taste a bit of fresh mountain air before the flight.

Those who know the Northwest know the sun hides for 4 or 5 or 6 months of winter behind layers of damp, grey clouds that drift in and out but never go away.  Yet this is like putting drapes over the windows of a store to remodel.  This was one of those summer days when they lift the blinds to reveal a glittering masterpiece of nature, polished green by the rain, with the brightest blue sky spreading over millions upon millions of trees.  My jaw dropped at glittering silver mountains towering over turquoise rivers which raged and cascaded down to the sea where they met their twins likewise crashing into the bay off Vancouver island’s rocky slopes.

To breathe in the dry fresh air was an epiphany, like breathing for the first time after two years in Hong Kong’s stifling humidity.  Alaska had been wonderful but it seemed that the refurbishing was never finished.  The blinds were never raised to reveal the mountain view in the moist, misty southern peninsula of rugged, angry, muddy wilderness.  Every step forward in the wet rainforest had been a struggle and neither noses nor muddy waterfalls seemed to ever stop running.

Now I pranced through dusty fields along the river and every footstep clapped up clouds of dust for the sun to pierce with gentle soothing rays.  My whole sinus system cleansed out and with each breath I felt more relaxed.  I marveled at the never-ending day that had started at 7 with a 3-hour drive up after an early flight from Seattle.  It seemed that I was in a place timeless, eternal, and one day so long and perfect seemed it could make years upon years of darkness worth it, though I can’t speak having never survived a BC winter.

Of course even an eternal Pemberton summer day must end.  After dancing and skipping and laughing my way up the “happy trail” towards tree line I reluctantly admitted it was time to turn back towards the winding river.  I had crossed a bridge and I had a moment of freak out, wondering if I was going the right way to cross back towards town.  I redirected and as the light started to dim I decided I could spare one more brief reflection by the river.  It was then that I saw the hornets swarm and I sped back quicker towards the bridge somewhat spooked.

It was a rickety railroad track bridge and as I crossed I giggled at enamored mountain bikers raising their arms and shrieking in joy as they crossed.  The bridge creaked and toyed with apocalypse then showed mercy and deposited me back on the outskirts of town.

My AirBNB was to the right and straight ahead but I still had a bit of time so I wandered left.  It was there that I ran into the typical signs of backwoods American country life as private property signs on nasty barbed wire fences guarded targets riddled of bullets.  It was just getting dark and I envisioned bloodthirsty maniacs waiting with shotguns and lusting after clueless hikers who might wander onto their property, awaiting an excuse to practice on live targets.  I reflected on how similar they were to the hornets guarding their hives, both eager to pounce on even an accidental invader.

I continued a few minutes and it seemed the river was public property with everything further North part of a giant estate.  Yet as the private property signs became denser I got spooked and turned back.  It seemed like I could feel an angry, alien energy coming from the place, resentment to the State Park land along the river and clueless tourists who wandered to close to a secret wilderness hideaway.  I felt like I could be shot at any moment.  But this was Canada, right?

It was around there that the thought of bears entered my mind and I added one more to the “angry private property defenders” category.  Even worse than the gun toting privacy defenders, bears considered the entire forest their property and didn’t even feel the need to warn me with a sign.  I didn’t have a right to complain about this reality as an ignorant Air BNB guest who stumbled up uninvited with naught but a humble 100 dollar reservation.  Yet I did want to live another day.

      It was then that I came up with the FAQ above.  I thought it was hilarious, the idea of asking this casually.  “Hey uh, I love this place, but just wondering if I will get killed by bears, guns, bees, whatever?  No big deal just kinda feel like you should let people know that that happens here, some sort of disclaimer.  Down in lowlands those things don’t happen to us so much.”

      I heard the dogs barking first then I saw the shadow of a man as they lunged forward in the distant, scenting blood and growling.  Dogs!  A threat that hadn’t even crossed my mind!  My heart raced and I began to squeak  “I’m not looking for trouble, please.”

      A man with a mullet and camouflage came into view.  Nothing against mullets, I just felt I should mention it; you’re welcome to draw your own conclusion.  He gripped the leash tight as the dogs lunged.  He nodded at me.

      Without thinking; “Are you from around here?”

      He nodded and clenched his teeth.

      “Can I ask you a couple quick questions?”  The words came without thinking.  I mostly wanted to ask how I could avoid private property.

      “No” he snarled as he corralled his dogs and stormed past.  He seemed proud to spit out the word and mock my ignorant longing for answers.

      I realized I was carrying my notebook.  He must have thought I was some reporter poking around his property.  He must have hated me.  ‘I’m not a reporter I just don’t want to get shot!’ I wanted to yell.  But then I felt shame for wanting to clarify that I’m not a reporter.  I reflected on how reporters are tortured, jailed and shot every day for poking around people’s business!  They are heroes.  If he had something to hide shouldn’t I be unafraid to poke around and report on it?  What if I had discovered a secret in this town and knew I’d be shot for revealing it?  Would I keep poking around or cower away and save myself?

      I reflected on how AirBNB had given me the privilege to stay so far back in this mountain wilderness, and how grateful I was.  Yet I also imagined how many other tourists must trample around this guy’s property due to things like that, and I thought about people who had lived there for years getting priced out for new development for middle class city dwellers like me to go away on weekends.

      I raced back to the house, my mind now filled with all these racing thoughts about guns, private property, bears, etc.  I felt shame, like I had embarrassed my hosts there by trying to ask ignorant questions of a local.  I arrived and saw the husband of the woman who had checked me in.  I decided he might find my questions funny and give some insights so I launched in.

“I just want to say, I’m so grateful to even spend a couple days here.  Its so beautiful.  Just a couple questions.”

      He nodded.

      I hesistated on how to bring up the issue of men with guns.

      “Well, its so beautiful and you’re so lucky to live here.  So lucky.  Do any of the people love it here so much that they might, um, you know, well, that they might shoot someone who comes in and disturbs their peace?”

      He didn’t understand.

      “I mean, if I accidentally walk onto the wrong person’s property, will they ummmm you know, shoot me?”

      His face darkened.  “Did something happen?”

      I told him about the man with the mullet and the dogs.  He could tell I was spooked.

      “I’ll tell you son, don’t mess around with private property rights up here.  Just don’t.”

      I had been hoping for reassurance: ‘come on son, this is Canada, we don’t shoot people just for walking down the wrong trail!’  He didn’t seem to find it funny at all.

“Well could I walk down the wrong trail by accident?”

“Son, just know the trails.  Know where you going.  Don’t mess around with these people.”

“Ok.  Well, the only other thing is…same question, but with bears.”

“What?!”

“Well like, if I accidentally walk onto the wrong bear’s property, will he kill me?”

His face turned to outrage and disbelief.

“You came up in these mountains and you’re asking me about bears?!  You don’t know about bears?  You better go educate yourself about bears, that’s not my job!  Educate yourself bout bears before you come trudging around these parts!”

He slammed the door.

It was then that I felt the shame.  I had trekked in the Himalayas, Alaska, all over the West Coast; I had backpacked and bike toured and explored which my brother, a park ranger who educated me about mountain safety.  Yet now I was the idiot who didn’t know to educate himself about guns and bears!

I sat there with this loop going in my head.  “Every stupid tourist who comes up here asks them about bears and probably does dumb stuff like leave food in cars and he thinks I’m just another idiot who doesn’t belong in the mountains at all.”

Then I remembered early in the year when I had talked to my therapist about situations that make me uncomfortable, and how I wanted to not feel uncomfortable doing certain things or when I failed and looked like an idiot.  He turned it around and said that if I never felt shame or discomfort I would be a sociopath, but that courage was doing things in spite of the discomfort.  So I shifted and began to think of my shame as good.  “Its good for my ego to feel a bit of shame, to feel a bit over my head.  That’s how I grew.”

As I accepted the shame I felt some sort of zoom out in my head, as if this was but a story about a guy named Aaron who was a hippy sort and wandered into a hunters land, and how in the scheme of this great wide open mountain wilderness it was really just a funny little story that didn’t matter at all.  There was a vast emptiness beyond that story and it was pointless to be caught up in it.  Not only that but it was good to look like an idiot from time to time or I would become a self centered ego maniac.  I went to sleep with a head quieted again like it had been when I first trudged up the happy trail.

I awoke and left to drive back towards Whistler.  I stopped in Pemberton for a coffee and joked with the waitress.  I wasn’t actually in the backwoods at all; sure there were hunters and fishers but there were artists, bikers and dirty, long haired hikers like myself.  I went for a quick run up the river to a waterfall and then drove to Whistler mountain gondola.  I asked the gondola staffer a question about the trail map and we identified a long hike by glaciers and lakes in high mountain country.

“You have better shoes?”

I was wearing my tevas.

“They’re in my bag, I’ll change when it gets rocky.”

He nodded and sized me up.  “Sunscreen?”

I nodded.

“Water?”

“3 litres.”

He looked at me.  “Yea, you’ve been up in this country before.  You’ll be fine.  Enjoy the beautiful day!”

Its necessary to go in over our heads sometimes to grow, but its also important to feel competence sometimes, and I reveled in the moments of feeling like a legit outdoorsman.  I rode the gondola up and combed the country below for bears.  At the top I pranced around on soft grass with the forest below me and nothing but ice and snow above.  I walked all day past crystal clear lakes and streams and stopped to do some yoga high up on a mountain ridge.  I took the gondola down around sunset, then drove back towards the sea and picked up two hitchhiking Spanish rock climbers.  They invited me to their house in Squamish for a big, tasty, healthy meal and I showered and relaxed before driving down to arrive at the airport exactly 2 hours before my flight to Taiwan then Hong Kong.

      In two days I went through panic, shame, feeling like an idiot, feeling competent, feeling everything was perfect.  And all those things are true, but they are just stories about a guy named Aaron.  He knows the mountains a bit but in a moment the mountains can show you’re not always in control.  They can help you soar and help you crash back down to reality.  We learn, we grow, we fail, we succeed, and we think that the shame or the glory is all there is.  I am truly grateful for those moments when I am able to zoom out and realize it is all just a funny story about something that happened to me.  Its really not so serious, and the mountains can also tell you how small you and your little funny story are.