Today’s bike adventure: a 25km circle farm tour sponsored by Slow Food Vancouver. After the 66km ride from a couple of weeks ago, I was really looking forward to taking a slower, more deliberate pace.
The day dawned rainy – just like on the day I went on the overnight trip with some friends – but this time I was a little more prepared for it. I brought along my bright yellow rain poncho, and while it came in handy, the only word I can use to describe it is dorky. Nothing chic about it at all.
Being out in the fresh, albeit damp, air did wonders for my spirit. I felt much stronger on this ride, and because the pace was slower I had plenty of time to stop, take photos, and talk to some farmers along the way. I have to say my favourite farm of all was the Six Masters farm (so called because there are six masters degrees between the two families that ran the farm). Chilliwack is Mennonite country, and the gentle nature of the farmers made me feel welcome. People shook my hand, asked my name, looked me in the eye, opened their homes to us, and took the time to explain why they gave up their high powered lives to run an artisinal farm in the Fraser Valley. I was completely charmed and never wanted to leave. In fact, theirs was the only farm I visited twice. Tony, one of the farmers at Six Masters, is a former teacher, and a prolific blogger. I have a feeling I’ll be visiting his blog (and his farm) again and again.
One of the reasons I decided to start commuting by bike is because I wanted to feel more connected to my environment. When raindrops dot your cheeks, chill winds enrobe your fingers, and the… shall we say earthy aroma of a working farm fills your lungs, you wonder how you could have ever spent so much time behind the wheel of a car with windows up, music turned on, completely cut off from the people around you.
I found myself wondering what it would actually take to run a farm, how much expense I’d have to put out to start up, whether I would grow plants to eat, or raise llamas (ask me another time). I imagined myself walking across my land in grubby jeans, beat up wellies that are coated with god knows what, and feeling the kind of tired that settles deep into your bones. Then I wondered what it would feel like to feel completely satisfied at the end of every day, to know that you’ve done something purposeful, that you’ve worked your body, worked your land and are bringing forth bounty. I’m certain I’m romanticizing farm life a great deal, but something deep inside me wants to find out more.
