July 14,
1999
© Darrell Noakes
Mountains
are mysterious places. People and storms are drawn to them. This quirk
of the mountains is how we met Monashee Bill.
As we made our way through Monashee Pass, I had watched clouds piling up against the mountains. Thunder rumbled in the peaks. The air became cold and the clouds darkened. We needed to stop for lunch, and we knew that we had to find someplace sheltered.
We rounded a corner in the road just as pea-sized hail began bouncing off the pavement. Up ahead we saw a pull-out. Next to it, there appeared to be some sort of building. In the trees, a log house sat perched overlooking a canyon. We raced into the pullout, skidding our tires on the wet gravel.
As we got off our bikes, I saw a man standing, watching us. It seemed as though he had materialized out of thin air, but I knew that we had simply been too preoccupied with the hail to notice his approach.
"Hi, I'm Bill," he said. He had a smile like a grandfather, and you knew by his face that he had stories to tell.
"I moved here a long time ago, so people call me Monashee Bill. Welcome to Angel Falls."
He pushed his large right hand toward us. As we each shook his hand, Bill ushered us to the small white building we had seen on our approach.
"You want some coffee?" said Bill. "We were making some just before you got here. I'll go see if it's ready."
A few minutes later, Bill returned from the house carrying a large carafe of dark coffee. Inside the small building, we had spread out tortillas, salsa and fillings for trailside burritos. The building had a small countertop and a lot of commercial cooking supplies. Outside, hail piled up like snow from an early fall blizzard. Bill sat down and told us the story of how he got here.
He used to be a real estate developer in Calgary.
"I built a lot of subdivisions," he said.
He
retired in the 1960s and dreamed of building a home in the mountains.
He and his wife left Alberta and moved to this spot on the Monashee highway.
As Inonoaklin Creek crosses under the highway, it drops 10 metres (30 feet) or more, creating Angel Falls, a perfect location for a new home.
West Kootenay Power's high voltage transmission line passes near the house on its way to the Okanagan valley - power for cities and industrial centres. The few inhabitants in the mountains don't have access to this electricity. Folks like Monashee Bill have to do without.
Bill made his own power. With a bicycle wheel and automobile alternator, he harnessed the power of Angel Falls. A 12-volt supply supplements wood heat and propane lighting in the house.
More recently, Bill thought he might try starting a business to cater to travellers. He decided to open a hot dog stand and snack shop - the building where we had taken shelter. It wasn't working out so well.
"I tried hiring someone, but no one wants to sit around here all day," he said. "No one wants to work. I had someone here earlier, but she just stopped showing up. Hippies!"
We talked for a couple hours or so, discussing life in the mountains and touring by bicycle. Once in awhile a car or camper would drive by. No one stopped.
Sometime during our conversation, the hail had turned to rain, melting the white piles along the roadside.
As the clouds blew away, steam began rising from the pavement.
By the time we returned to our bikes, the pavement was dry.
Monashee Bill waved to us as we rode off, promising he'd still be here - with more coffee - the next time we passed through.
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