Welcome to Naramata British Columbia, the closest thing to paradise this vast country has to offer.(this was in David Attenborough's Yorkshire accent)
It boasts some of the most beautiful landscapes you could imagine; full of lush rolling hills, green vineyards Tuscan style, warm sandy beaches, jumpable sand cliffs, climbable mountains, (there are still snow caps, and I stare at them in a Tshirt) and Deer run around like its bloody recess or something. Oh and theres a wild Peacock that roams around town, and its beyond amazing to see up close. This is where I have been for the past few days, and where I will call home for the next few months. I actually landed a pretty nifty camping trailer, and primped it out Nathan-styles, so it feels just like home. It even has a working fridge and stove. I made a pretty funny video; MTV Cribs-esque that Ill upload when I get a chance next. Its been raining more than usual, but I don't mind it, Ive always liked the rain. My knee is healing fairly well, although my decision to go cliff jumping the other day was lets just say, silly.
Ive been hitchhiking almost everyday, my last few rides were in the back of a pickup(always a favourite), with a few dope smoking hippies(can never complain) a former Olympic Kayaker(we spoke for an hour after he had dropped me off) a physiotherapist(how convenient; she is my new leg-fixer-upper), and just an hour ago I got picked up in a FedEx truck, the delivery one with the sliding door, it was fun trying to stay balanced while he hugged the corners of Naramata Road. I'm sitting now in the quaint town library, trying to regurgitate my last month into point form so I can start ambushing you kids with the shenanigans that I have been up to. I'm always worried about forgetting the details,(like the smell of the coyote carcass I saw while hiking a few days ago) as they are so crucial. This is why Ive been kicking it old school, and writing in my journal, no scratch that, diary. Yeah, diary is way more pre-tween schoolgirl, you know how I do.
I'm describing how amazing it is, but theres always the downslope to every summit.
Speaking of, all of you ladies and germs need to read Into thin Air by Jon Krakenauer. He also wrote into the wild. Its about the 1996 Everest disaster in which many climbers perished. Its one of my favourite books, and I'm reading it again. That and Siddartha by Herman Hesse, which was given to me by Kyla, way back in Sault Ste Marie.
Well that's it for now, I'm off to set up my vagina-resembling hammock at the beach.
This is the view out of my camper, my laundry drying in front of Lake Okanagan.