My Procter
Procter can't be explained! At least not easily.
To the people who live there, it is a place where life's priorities are clear. It is a place where an individual's unique qualities are celebrated. It’s a place where 50 year olds get together and dance and party until the early morning. It is a place where the locals erect community campsites along the lake for the enjoyment of others throughout the summer.
Too far for weekend travellers from either Calgary or Vancouver, only the more persistent tourists are to be found. Many of the residents who live there now were once the tourist who ventured into the West Kootenay valley for a little summer adventure. I guess I would even be classified as a tourist, even though my formative years were spent there and my heart has never left.
Even in high tourist season, Procter remains sheltered and protected from the chaos and confusion that the season brings with it. The only entrance to Procter is via a small ferry that runs back and forth across the west arm of Kootenay Lake. Guided by 2 cables and an operator, this 24 hour a day ferry (as long as the operator hasn’t chosen to nap) has faithfully carried it’s patrons for several generations.
The ferry ride takes about 8 mins (up to 20 if you just missed it). It is a time when delivery drivers fill out forms, Mom’s straighten out the back seat, Grandpa’s read a book and the odd tourist checks their maps – “Is this the way to Creston?”. It also serves as the local society news centre. The wooden bulletin board serves up the formal notices of events or garage sales while the time spent on the ferry is ideal for gossiping with other locals for all of the news that isn’t fit for the bulletin board.
The road that goes from the Harrop ferry to the town of Procter is a typical country road. Six kilometres consisting of the straight stretch (yes, there really is only one straight stretch) that we used to use to test the horsepower on our cars, the curves of Sunshine Bay, Huiberts hill, Pollards corner and the turnoff to the old logging road. As you round the bend by the old church, you enter the village itself. The road carries on for another kilometre passed Alexander Road and over Snake hill but then abruptly comes to an end. Beyond this is bush and railroad.
Officially, Procter is the village at the end of the Harrop/Procter road but to me – you are in Procter the minute you drive off the ferry (Sorry to all you Harropians). I probably feel that way because the community really is defined by the ferry and the lake. Everything across that ferry is Procter. In some places the houses are close together and in some places they are far apart – but over there is Procter! Everywhere else is....well....everywhere else!
The forest, the lake and the moderate weather are all wonderful attributes but it is the people of Procter that are its most precious resource. Their passion for life, for community, for society is the common thread that bridges all the unique differences between them.
The people consist of those who dropped by and couldn’t leave and those who started there and came back after experiencing some of life’s other offerings. There are those who dropped by with the intent to stay but found that the light of self reflection that Procter offers is too intense. Others missed the anonymity that comes with urban life. Those that remain are fully aware of the blessing they have.
Procterites enjoy the simpler life, they generally steer clear of confrontation but they adamantly protect their lifestyle. You cannot accuse a Procterite of being apathetic. It is true that they chose the area because they are drawn to the calm, serene life that it affords but just try to log their water shed or take their ferry away! They are likely to go to Vancouver and block a bridge in protest (That actually happened). They also bound together and formed a group to challenge the logging industry – taking control of their forest and watershed and harvesting it in a sensitive and renewable manner. For a bunch of laid back Hippies - they sure get things done!
In Procter, everyone is a gardener. A few raise sheep or cattle. Eggs, milk, and vegetables still taste like they did when I was a kid. The words “organic” or “natural” are not really used that often because most things already are! Procter is a place where you are likely to get tofu at a pot-luck (and like it!). At the pot-luck you’ll meet a vegetarian or two but they will be talking to the hunter who brought the Elk stew.
Procter is also a place of refuge. The recently divorced, widowed, wounded, and ailing are all welcome. The same properties that enable the “light of self reflection” blend with time and heal these afflictions. For me – it is a refuge from the city, big business, SUV, processed food, cable television, dry cleaning, traffic congestion, email, voicemail, text messaging, late night, overtime, business travel, traffic ticket, billboard, priority confused life I live in.
This really is “my” Procter. I know that my good friends that live there may see it differently and I know that the redneck with the Satellite Dish on his 35 foot RV down by the Procter beach has never eaten tofu or been blinded by the self reflecting light.
But my Procter is real and this is why Procter can’t be explained!
Labels: Balfour, BC, British Columbia, Creston, Harrop, Kootenays, Nelson, Procter
posted by kroghster @ 3:30 PM
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