Krishna Bus Tour

Part 20-Canadian Farm

Two hours before sunrise I drove the bus past the sign welcoming us to Saranagati. Deep in the Canadian wilderness, it's a five mile long valley owned by Hare Krishna families. I parked the bus and took a nap, waking in time for pancakes and maple syrup.

Manu made announcements while I ate, "For lunch, we'll meet at a house over there." He pointed to a forest across the road. "You have two hours to find it, but don't walk alone; there are a lot of bears."

I walked down the gravel road accompanied by my prayer beads. A farm truck appeared, followed by a dust cloud. The driver was happy to see a visitor. We talked about crops as I peeled an orange.

He pointed, "As far as you can see up the valley is Saranagati. The valley is five miles long. Several families pitched in to buy it many years ago..."

I looked for a polite place to throw the orange peel.

"I'll take it." He put the peel in a plastic bag and zipped it shut. "A bear will smell that for miles and come looking."

In the distance, something moved toward us.

"It's one of the girls," the farmer said.

"She's really going fast."

"It's an electric booster on her bike."

"To outrun bears?"

The girl stopped at the truck breathing hard. "Where are they?" She looked about thirteen. "Where is everyone?"

"Up that way;" I pointed, "the house on the right."

"The community house?"

"Yeah. They'll be there a little longer then they're going to ..."

She pushed off without looking back, "OK, Haribol!"

"This must be a big day for her."

"They've been looking forward to it all year."

"I can imagine. When the bus came to our place in North Carolina it was a big deal. We're remote, but you guys are a five hour drive from nowhere."

***

The bus tour kids were more attentive than usual as the bicycle girl showed them around the log house. "The floorboards were milled here; we have our own sawmill."

"And you grow your own food?"

"We have a big garden. We grow a lot of our own."

"What's this room for?"

"It's a greenhouse for starting plants."

"How cold does it get?"

"Minus twenty, sometimes minus forty. But when you're outside cutting wood, you'd be surprised, it's not that bad."

"You get to live here year round?" one of the boys said. "This is the best part of the whole tour."

The bicycle girl smiled at the floor.

Gaura Narayana played the Turkish Rondo on the piano in the living room.

"Man! Is there any instrument you don't play?"

He smiled and let Manu take a turn.

Chaitanya arrived with lunch. She was a few years older than the bicycle girl, perhaps eighteen. Everyone called her Chay.

"Wow! Is this stuff you guys grew here?"

"We don't grow pizzas on this farm," Chay said.

Nitya Lila helped organize the serving table, and the rest of us lined up.

"Why is this so good?"

"It was cooked in a wood-fired clay oven."

"And this salad ..., it's the best!"

A dark form moved on the fence around the garden.

"What is that?"

"Oh my god! It's a bear! Right over there! A bear!"

The bear pulled branches from a tree and ate the leaves, paying no attention to the kids who set their pizzas down to get their cameras.

"Awww, he's so cute."

We were close enough to see insects flying around the bear's head. Kids stepped off the porch for a better look.

"Uh, guys?" Manu said. "Take a hint from the locals. Notice they're all on the porch."

They glanced at the porch and back to the bear. "But he's so cute."

"Yes, but you won't look cute if you get in his way. We'll have to mail you back to your mothers in tiny plastic bags."

The kids took one step back. "Awww, look at that. He's so cute."

I did my Yogi Bear imitation, "Hey Boo Boo! Whaddayagot in that pic-a-nic basket, Boo Boo?"

The kids who knew nothing about Yogi Bear thought I was just being weird.

I asked Chay, "What do you do when a bear gets in your garden?"

"I chase them out."

"You ...?"

"Yeah. I chase them away."

"...from your garden?"

"Yeah. You have to. Here, take some more pizza."

"I don't argue with girls that chase bears."

***

Smiling through his beard, Bala Krishna pointed to his hydroelectric turbine.

"This has been spinning nonstop for fifteen years. It powers four houses."

He turned a valve and the turbine doubled its speed. "We'll need more power with all the company we're having tonight."

"The water comes from up on that mountain?"

"Yeah, there's a spring we tap into. It comes down these hoses and builds up pressure." He pointed to a gauge, "One hundred sixty pounds of pressure."

"Wow, that's a lot."

"It goes through this turbine, then it waters my fields." Bala Krishna makes a living from farming.

More families arrived, filling his yard with bicycles and rusty trucks. They brought pots and more kids. A table full of farm-fresh food was served as the sun set behind the mountain.

"What's been grown here?" I asked as they loaded my plate.

"Carrots, squash, beans and tomatoes are from the farm. The milk is from a local organic dairy. The beets are also from the garden."

"This is too good to eat in the dark." I turned on my flashlight, "Look at these colors."

Bala Krishna sat with a bucket and a flashlight, "Who wants raspberry ice cream?"

A line formed.

He asked a ten-year-old, "Are you the kind of girl that likes raspberry ice cream?"

"Yes."

"Well, you have to say it without smiling so I know you're serious. Are you serious about wanting ice cream?"

"Yes, I am."

"You're smiling, though. You have to be serious."'

Bus tour kids began their kirtan magic by candlelight.

Bala Krishna gave me a second scoop of the best raspberry ice cream I've ever had. "This house never sleeps," he said. "It's always like this. My wife and I joke-maybe we should move back to Vancouver for peace and quiet."