After walking about an hour along Hedley’s 20 Mile Creek, well into the depth of Windy Canyon, we came upon it unexpectedly.

Initially we thought maybe it was a mirage, or at least a trick of our imagination. How could there be an elegant, truly lovely suspension bridge here in this rugged mountain wilderness?

It was 2003. Linda and I were still living in Abbotsford at the time and came to Hedley only on occasional weekends. No one in Hedley had mentioned the existence of a bridge here, let alone a fine one like this. In the past, almost 30 years ago, I had made many treks along this trail while working with young offenders for the One Way Adventure Foundation. The only means of crossing the creek here at that time was an unstable walkway nailed to a log. It had disintegrated at the far end and we had needed to jump to reach land. It never occurred to me that one day some creative genius would decide to build a magnificent suspension bridge at this crossing.

On this day Linda and I stood quietly for a long moment, transfixed. Why would anyone build a bridge here, we wondered. A place where only committed outdoors enthusiasts ever ventured? This is the question I put to Ted Thompson, Hedley’s most famous (and only) bridge builder. He moved to Hedley from Vancouver Island in 1998 and built the bridge in 2003.

“I was a retired home builder,” he told me. “At that time I was only 70 and I still had energy. I was looking for something to do. In the back of my mind I’d long had a desire to build a bridge.”

His father had left the family when Ted was only 8. “I became the man of the house,” he said. “If something needed doing, like bringing in sawdust for the stove, or cutting the grass, I did it.” Apparently this early experience instilled in him a belief that he could handle difficult projects.

“Did anyone help you?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “At the time there was a Buddhist monk living in a cave about 5 or 6 crossings farther along the creek. Some Vietnamese Buddhists came to visit him and when they saw what I had started, they wanted to help. They had emigrated from Ho Chi Minh City some years ago and were now mushroom farmers in Langley.”

Ted told me that to transport materials, he bought a riding lawn mower and had a hitch put on it. Pulling a small trailer, he painstakingly hauled in planks, cables, posts, gravel, and whatever supplies were required. When the motor on the tractor gave out, the Vietnamese paid for a new one. They also provided funds for some of the wood and other materials. Because they worked in Langley during the week, they could help only on weekends.

“I designed the bridge to have a curve,” he said. “That was to take out the sway. It was 65 feet long and took a few months to build.”

The trail to the bridge had deteriorated in some places so Ted and the Vietnamese devoted many hours to it as well. He personally built some of the rock walls that still exist. It was his plan to also build a bridge over the second crossing.

Unfortunately, not many people, even those living in Hedley, ever saw the bridge. In June, 2004 high water in the creek damaged the approach at the far end. Then, in August, 2004, the bridge was completely shattered by a massive rock slide.

No one volunteered to rebuild it but Ted and several men from

Hedley did drag a large tree over the creek, with the help of a come-along jack. Using the tree as a platform, they built a simple 80 foot long walkway on it.

It seems that fate did not want a bridge in this location though. The second bridge was soon destroyed by a torrent of high water.

At age 80, Ted has no ambition to build a third bridge. His mind is still alert though and his body is lean and fit. Now he’s working on another challenging project which he says could be of greater importance than his ill-fated bridges. In the meantime, although Ted’s magnificent suspension bridge no longer exists, the memory of it continues to be a unique gift to the people of Hedley.

The two high spirited hounds were in the box of Travis Barck’s pickup truck, parked on the former tailings pond that lies alongside Hedley’s 20 Mile Creek. Linda and I saw them immediately when we turned a corner and entered the spacious open area. Howling, wagging their tails, bounding around excitedly in the box, they demanded to be let out so they could run. Travis was exercising immense patience as he attempted to calm one of the dogs long enough to put on a leash.

Linda and I observed for a few minutes, particularly intrigued by this scene because we were familiar with the events that predated it. It’s a story that possibly only those who regularly walk the trail along 20 Mile creek are aware of.

Zak, a rescue dog, is new to the family. Travis and his partner Angelique had picked him up in Kelowna this past May. Not long after bringing him home, Angelique brought both dogs to this field. Confident a solid bond had already developed between her and Zak, she let him and Rocky off the leash. “They ran with complete abandon, burning off a lot of energy,” she said later. “When it was time to go, Rocky came but Zak stayed out of my reach.”

For Angelique and Travis, this initiated a two week lesson in patience, perseverance, and acts of thoughtfulness toward a frightened dog. Having been abused, he was unable to trust any human.

It’s a wilderness area , at times frequented by coyotes, bears and occasionally a cougar. They returned to the field each day and

usually saw Zak. Sometimes they sat quietly for hours, wanting him to be comfortable with their presence. It encouraged them that he stayed in the area and played with Rocky. They prepared a comfortable bed for him with a jacket and a blanket in a covered shelter. Each day he ate the food they left.

In response to calls from several individuals who spotted Zak on walks along the creek, Angelique and Travis began posting messages on trees. They reported on any progress in winning his confidence, and also asked people not to try to get close to him. They didn’t want Zak to become anxious and leave the area.

To tempt Zak, they purchased a supply of pepperoni at Doug’s Homestead. Leaving the field the next day, Angelique began breaking off small chunks of the sausage and scattering them on the trail behind her. She fervently hoped Zak would accept the bait and follow. He found the pepperoni irresistible and ate each piece. When they emerged from the treed area and came to within about 100 meters of her home, Angelique thought victory might be at hand. However, finding himself on pavement and in the midst of houses, he grew uneasy and turned around. The open field, in spite of its dangers, apparently felt safer than civilization. Less resolute individuals might have despaired, but Travis and Angelique were committed.

They continued the daily visits and Zak slowly became accustomed to their regular presence. He began drawing closer, trusting them a little more each day. One evening Angelique was able to put a leash on him and he accompanied her willingly.

“He became anxious when we left the treed area behind and entered the town,” she said. “I picked him up and skirted around the far side of the buildings, close to the base of the mountain. He accepted this and we arrived at home with no incidents.”

Surrounded by towering green mountains, we observed Travis now as he slipped the leash around Rocky’s neck. It surprised us when he said, “Things have changed a lot. Zak has become eager to please. When we call him, he responds. It’s Rocky who needs the leash now.”

This September my wife Linda and I are celebrating the second

anniversary of our return to Hedley in the scenic Similkameen Valley. We are also celebrating our decision to leave behind the congestion and pollution of the Fraser Valley. One change we are not celebrating is the separation from family and friends. Although including a stop for coffee and a short walk at Manning Park, it’s only 4 hours to the Fraser Valley where most of our family lives, we are aware that the mountains present a psychological barrier.

Our initial coming to Hedley in 1980 was entirely work related. The first time I brought Linda here she said, “I don’t understand why anyone would want to live in this town.” A lot of people do ask why anyone would want to live where there is no Superstore, Walmart, bank, pharmacy, doctor, or Tim Horton’s. I was not enamoured by the community but it was the wilderness training centre for my employer, the One Way Adventure Foundation. This meant my staff and I needed to bring Young Offenders in our programs here for courses in canoeing, rappelling, rock climbing and other activities.

When the organization closed down its Surrey headquarters and moved to Hedley, Linda and I agreed we should stay with the “Foundation” and make the move. Our contact with family became intermittent.

In time we returned to Abbotsford and lived there 23 years. This made it possible for our son to play high school football. It also made possible a more active social life for our teenage daughter.

When we moved back to Hedley two years ago we had one significant concern. We were reminded of the occasions in the past when people said to us, “we drove through Hedley and we thought of you.” We didn’t understand why these people didn’t take the time to come to our home. Our concern was that ties with family and friends might be loosened.

We understand more fully now that friendships are precious and also fragile. In
“ Pathways To Success,” Dr. Mensa Otabil says “90% of the people in your life today will not be there in 10 years.” We know that successful businesses like Telus and Apple devise extensive strategies to retain their customers. They do not assume people will remain loyal. Some companies have a “Loyalty Department”.

To us, friendships and family relationships are at least as important as customers are to Telus and Apple. For this reason we are making more of an effort to ensure many of the 90% will still be in our lives in10 years.

Past experience made us aware we couldn’t wait for people to initiate contact. In the realm of relationships, “out of sight, out of mind” applies. Knowing this, we wrote a letter about our move and initial experiences here. The letter went to about 30 people, mostly by e-mail. Since then our list for the letter has expanded to over 100 and continues to grow. Surprisingly, people are now writing us about their experiences, challenging issues, victories, relationships, etc. In some cases we are sending the letter to people with whom we have had no contact in years. This has rekindled several relationships that had become dormant.

Sometimes when we meet one of the recipients they say, “I haven’t written you but I like hearing from you. Keep the letters coming.” People are sharing the letter with their friends. Recently a high school classmate sent an e-mail saying, “I’ve been receiving your letter from a mutual friend. Can you put me on your list?” We are also in contact with individuals we have not yet met but consider to be friends because someone sent them the letter.

Our approach to retaining friendships likely doesn’t suit everyone. Some people employ other methods. Many do nothing though, and that is why 90% of their relationships are in danger of lapsing in 10 years. Great friendships don’t come easily. Unlike customers, they cannot be attracted by advertising or promotions. Linda and I have become
passionate about holding onto the relationships we have. When we send people our letter, we are saying, “We value you. We’d like to stay in touch”.

Somewhat like desert dwellers, we, the citizens of Hedley, do not

complain about the lack of most amenities. Sure, there are times when we’d like to shop at a big city mall, drink coffee at Tim Horton’s or Starbucks, go to a movie, etc. We can certainly have the advantage of all these by driving to Penticton. A small number of local people do this with some regularity. Most of us do it occasionally.

But why spend a couple of hours in a car when we can enjoy life in this peaceful community surrounded by mountains? This morning, after stretches and exercises as usual, Linda and I walked to the Hedley Seniors Centre. On the second Sunday of each month the seniors group invites the community to a breakfast of 2 pancakes, 2 eggs and 2 sausages or slices of bacon, plus coffee. McDonalds cannot match their quality or their price of $5.00.

As long as we don’t look for people we know well already, the breakfast is a good way to meet our Hedley neighbours. Today we sat across from Richard. He recently lost his wife of more than 50 years to cancer. We were pleased to hear that Lorraine Lance had sent him some home made pyrogies. She is exceptionally good at reaching out to people with a need. In a small community people are more likely to know who needs a visit, a bowl of soup, even just a phone call. We are always heartened when we see people doing this.

Today Linda took the camera along to the breakfast and got a shot of George K at the grill. He’s a pragmatic Dane and makes great pancakes, but he apparently doesn’t care to be photographed. “That’s enough,” he told her. Undaunted, she slipped outside and snapped another shot through the window. Unfortunately, the computer either hid or lost the photos so we’ll have to try again next month.

At 9:30 we attended the service at the Hedley Grace Church, the only church in town. For several reasons the attendance was down, only about 15. On a good Sunday up to 25 people come. Pastor Graham, 75, has been troubled with a cold and has been nursing his voice for several weeks. He managed to deliver a full, interesting sermon. Both Graham and Myrtle are like much needed leaven in our community.

After church we were just finishing a slice of Linda’s home made brown bread and a bowl of sauerkraut borscht when there was a knock on our front door. It was Vic and Laverna Spenst of Abbotsford. A very pleasant surprise. I first met Vic in grade 1 at the North Poplar Elementary School in what was then Matsqui Municipality. For the most part, we attended the same school and finished with grade 13, which was still offered then (it’s a long time ago). They both lost their spouse about half a dozen years ago and connected at the Sevenoaks Alliance Church in Abbotsford. For them it seems the second marriage is as fulfilling and joyous as the first.

Very late in the afternoon, Linda and I hiked along 20 Mile Creek to

the Big Rock. The tall grass on the former tailings pond shimmered like a field of ripe golden wheat on the Saskatchewan prairie. Framed by the towering mountains, the evergreens and the blue sky overhead, the splendour of this idyllic scene brought joy to our hearts.

In the past we sometimes walked to the first crossing over the creek. At one time a Buddhist monk lived in a cave 5 or 6 crossings farther. Linda never accompanied me on my occasional excursions to visit him. Today a comfortable cool breeze wafting off the creek provided welcome relief from the heat of the Hedley sun. The creek is low and we need rain and snow to replenish it. We’re not in a hurry for the snow yet though.

Upon returning, Linda suggested we pick up a couple of slices of pie from Jim Gray. He operates the Tea Room at the museum. He had apple raspberry pie, which we will enjoy this evening. He also gave us 2 additional pieces to pass on to “some one in need.” We’ll offer them to the 2 brothers living at the end of our street. They are on the periphery of the town both geographically and socially.

It’s 6:19 and the sun just dropped behind the mountain to the west. We’ve become accustomed to basking in the warmth of sunny summer evenings, and now we’re going through an adjustment period. I still wore shorts this afternoon, but I’ve already changed into jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Mornings are chilly now, dropping down close to zero. No snow yet, but autumn is definitely poking its frosty nose into our valley at night.

Time for dinner on a great September Sunday in Hedley.

After no services all summer, the Hedley Grace Church was host to a lively Bluegrass concert Saturday evening. It was a capacity crowd with people arriving from various points in the Similkameen valley, including Keremeos, Cawston and Hedley. Obviously pleased at the turnout, Pastor Graham Gore said, “I wish the church was always this packed Sunday morning”.

The concert featured George Huber and Colleen Cox, popular entertainers on the BC Bluegrass circuit. It was their final performance, following appearances on stages in places like Falkland, Greenwood, Midway, Summerland and Maple Ridge. After living and touring in their motor home most of the summer, they will no doubt be happy to return to their home near Lund, BC.

They brought their unique talents to the Sunday morning church service as well. During the coffee and cake social time afterwards, Colleen told me a little of their story. It began just over 14 years ago at a time when they were both living alone.

“A friend suggested I invite George out for coffee,” she said. “He was a very skilled musician then already. He accepted my invitation and that’s how it all started.”

“We began spending time together and he took me along to some of his family’s gatherings. They are very musical and pretty soon George told me that if I was going to hang out with his family, I really needed to learn to play an instrument.”

Colleen admitted to great misgivings about this idea. Although she had received voice training in a Catholic school many years ago, and had sung harmony in a number of choirs, she did not think she could learn to play an instrument. When her daughter became aware of her dilemma, she offered her the use of an expensive guitar and encouraged her to give it a try.

“George took me to a music workshop and I enrolled in a class to learn to play guitar. I told the instructor I didn’t even know how to take the instrument out of its case.” After that she attended other workshops and George also patiently tutored her.

“I learned to play in the key of g,” she remembers. “At a gathering of George’s family, the instruments came out and I played with them.” Afterward George came to her and said, “I don’t want to disappoint you Colleen, but not all tunes are played in the key of g.” While they had switched to other keys, she had blithely continued on in g.

Now, after 14 years of practising and performing together, they are a delight for Bluegrass enthusiasts. At age 83, George still has the robust energy to create an aura of excitement and to lift the spirits of the audience. Colleen is equally vibrant and according to George, she is the one who creates their magical harmony.

George and Colleen have a strong following in the Similkameen Valley. Many of their fans will be waiting for their next appearance when the Bluegrass season resumes in spring.

I was feeling some impatience as I hand watered my under-achieving pumpkin plant at about 8:30 this morning. The plant has plenty of vines, leaves and blossoms, but as yet has not produced a single pumpkin. I have been lavish with chicken droppings. In an act of desperation I have even used Miracle Gro, in spite of my commitment to organic growth. The plants anaemic performance is making me more than a tad testy.

In the midst of my intolerant thoughts toward the pumpkin plant, a gentle voice calls to me from across the street.

“Good morning Art.”

It’s Ben, my neighbour from a few houses down the street. He is steadying himself with his cane while tending to Angelique’s chickens. He gladly assumes the role of guardian, feeder and friend of the birds when she is away.

I cross the street to chat with him, but he now seems oblivious to my presence. Noting his intense concentration, I remain standing somewhat apart, silently observing. I sense he is savouring a precious moment in his morning.

A mother hen and two chicks are waiting. Their colour is a pleasing light brown with dark circles around their necks. Very pretty. Leaning toward them, he grasps his cane firmly with one hand and scatters feed on the floor of their small compound with the other. The sense of kinship is palpable and I am reminded of the morning, many years ago, when my aged grandfather in rural Manitoba led me by the hand to his garden where we carefully selected the ripest watermelon.

The mother hen and her two young ones peck eagerly at the grain, clucking contentedly. He is speaking to them in soothing, almost reverential tones that carry a hint of music. These girls, as he refers to them, are cherished friends.

To me, this seems like a scene from another place and another era. His calm quiet demeanour and perceptible Swiss accent suggest he might just have wandered out of a small, remote 19th century village high in the Swiss Alps. Certainly he has much experience in Switzerland’s mountains, having been trained there in avalanche control. I know also that his Swiss father passed on to him a good deal of mountain lore.

Now though, with his beard and hair revealing several pleasant shades of grey, plus the ever present cane and his unhurried, deliberate movements, I can see that the robust strength and energy of earlier years have diminished considerably. Observing his interactions with these birds, it is easy to conclude that the loss of vigour has been compensated for by the gaining of a generous measure of understanding and patience.

He knows I am here, but his attention is still on the girls as he pulls a miniature harmonica from the pocket of his pants and briefly serenades them with a few perky notes. A Stellar Jay swoops down within a few metres of us, probably hoping to snatch a few grains, but possibly wanting to enjoy the music. Ben returns the harmonica to his pocket and closes the door to the pen. Then, smiling, he turns to me.

Although only as an observer, I realize I have participated in a memory creating small town experience that was not available to me when I lived in a condo in Abbotsford.