Ridin', Reinin' and Writin'

Having now lived in the Chilcotin for almost five years, I can say that I’m starting to have a handle on how life is lived here. I might even go one step further and say I am Chilcotin-ized! (Note: A fellow at church yesterday remarked that the logs on their cabin were chilcotin-ized so we might assume the word has broad meaning.)

My "chilcotin-ization" was a gradual process, I think, one born of observation and adaptation. Over time I learned to buy bananas every time I shop for groceries (my neighbour says she doesn’t put them on the list anymore...) and I freeze milk because trips to the grocery store can be a month apart. I have collected extra parts for tractor and water bowls and have learned more than I ever wanted to know about machinery, washing machines, lawn mowers and water bowls . . . because when you live in the Chilcotin, professional help is a long way off, expensive and sometimes just not available - which is where neighbours come in. In the Chilcotin, good neighbours are gold!

The beautiful Chilcotin River as seen from my kitchen window.

But the Chilcotin 'way of thinking' is a little harder to pin down. “Chilcotin time” has real meaning (I’m still learning that.) Trust has to be earned. Hard workers are respected; slackers are not. Understated, underwhelmed, underpaid but always optimistic would describe many of the people who live here. And we’re definitely home-bodies. Like almost everyone else living in this beautiful, remote part of British Columbia, I could happily stay home week after week. We all hate the can’t-be-put-it-off-any-longer trip to Williams Lake, which brings me to my story…

A few months back, I held a three-day reining clinic on my property, which meant picking up the clinician, Vern Sapergia, at Williams Lake airport on Thursday evening and bringing him back to the airport on Monday morning, a 200 km return trip each time. I looked at the gauge on my truck on the first trip and decided I did not have to fill with diesel until the return trip. However, because it rained all day the day before the clinic started, all students and clinician moved to an indoor arena 10 km from my property for the first 1 ½ days. This translated into more mileage on my truck than I anticipated and on Saturday, when Mandy, a friend of mine from the Okanagan, returned to the house in my truck with the clinician for lunch, she voiced concern that there was not enough fuel for the trip to the airport on Monday.

“Is the light on?” I asked,  meaning the fuel light.

She gave me a look with that clearly said, “What’s that got to do with it?” but replied that it was not. I told her I thought I was all right, but she persisted so I promised to get some diesel before Monday morning.

On Sunday evening, after the clinic was completed, Vern, Mandy and I headed out for an impromptu barbecue at Chilco Ranch, just across the river – in my truck. We had planned to dine out, but there was nothing open after 7:00 AM (the Chicotin way…) so Crystal and Jordan offered to host dinner (also the Chilcotin way…) Of course, the gas station was closed as well.

“I’m sure Jordan will sell me some diesel,” I told Mandy.

“I may be a little low on fuel to get to Williams Lake tomorrow,” I said to Jordan during dinner. “Is it possible that I could get some from you?” Jordan didn’t miss a beat…

“Is the light on?” he asked.

Mandy doubled over with laughter. The rest of the table looked a little confused at her reaction. When she could talk, she explained that I had asked the exact same question when she told me I was low on fuel.

“Must be a Chilcotin thing,” she said.