Leaving Golden life behind, in search of daylight, hot springs, stuffed animals.
A deserted highway, which after an hour suddenly a great many people converge on, late morning, making my journey south heavy going.
Dull rain and low mist hiding some some / all of the best bits of the scenery … if there is any scenery along the Columbia River valley.
At Radium Hot Springs, even the mountain big horns have headed indoors.
Perched on high, keeping an eye on visitors as they wander around the display in the Visitor Centre.
When I eventually emerge into some kind of brightness at the Welcome Centre at Fernie, all eyes are on me. Provided with hiking suggestions on a piece of paper, for free.
On the edge of downtown, I’m checking in with the Raging Elk.
And the feeling’s mutual, since I can’t check in … I’m too early; worse still, the goddamn bar’s not open.
Yet we the punters need to leave a $200 security deposit for all the damage and loss that the crackers elk might cause.
In downtown, a film not yet filmed.
On Victoria Avenue: all front, all nerve. Mountain bikes virtually compulsory.
I’m living on the peripherals, drinking on the edge of some decking, practically in the middle of the road, and definitely in the middle of a mob of mountains.
I’ve stumbled into a Rocky Trench, under the Lizard Range, trying not to make any sudden moves.
Oh yeah, this is more like it … blue skies overhead, a fresh beer, and not too busy. Life’s a stage alright.
And in dreamlike scenes, multiple peaks competing for my attention, to the point where I don’t know where to look.
Glancing up at the cat in the moonlight and other works of art hanging out by the lamp-posts, the livery and the liquor store; wandering into soundchecks, nodding along while sinking a beer.
Fernie, BC – surrounded on all sides by mountains, stuffed animals, local brews, self-imposed curfews.
A goat perched on a rock on a yellow sign – intricately drawn, hooves inward – is both a promise and a warning to bike riders, thrill seekers, truck drivers, powder chasers, swill drinkers.
In town tonight, no heroes, no desperate icons.
I wonder if I could be somebody here; then just as soon as the thought arrives, it just as quickly evaporates.
I find myself jumping on a bandwagon heading back to the log cabinesque bar at the hostel.
The damn elk might be too raging to cheers, but the clientele definitely aren’t … downing radioactive-coloured shots and fast beers and reinventing the rules of pool.
On the wall, avalanche info is a deck of tarot cards, locked up in a cabinet, beneath the virgin snow and the nosey mountain goat.
This is where I’ll hit the deck.
An Outside World 