I can keep quiet no longer.
For nigh on a month, I've held my tongue. I've tried to restrain myself and take the high road. I chose not to comment on Neil Judson's vicious and clichéd attack on Valleycliffe that appeared in this very space ("The bright side of moving away," Dec. 11, 2009).
But now, the season of goodwill has passed and the gloves are off, Mr. Judson. Valleycliffe has been dishonoured, and I will take up the challenge and defend her good (well, fair-to-middling, anyway) name.
We purchased our Valleycliffe home almost 20 years ago. At that time, our realtor was reluctant even to show us properties in this end of the valley.
There were stories of bike gangs and crack houses; all the homes, it was rumoured, were covered in moss, like the hobbit shire in Lord of the Rings. Squamites outside of Valleycliffe believed that a strange underclass lived in what used to be known as "Skunk Hollow."
But we found a home that felt right, and we moved into a neighbourhood that really had all the qualities implicit in that word.
We quickly met all of the people on the street and developed friendships that have lasted these 20 years. Many people have moved on, but each time the newcomers have fit in as easily as those who had left.
Our children grew up in Valleycliffe playing by the river, hiking up Mountain of Phlegm and buying bags of candy and "slushies" at the corner store. The street was used more for hockey and hopscotch than by cars, and during the long summer nights phalanxes of kids could be found running from home to home blissfully ignorant of any danger other than being late for their curfew.
Neil, once you embrace Valleycliffe, it will embrace you back.
During the summer heatwaves, you'll find yourself floating in one of the swimming holes in the Stawamus. When the snow falls (and sticks) you'll join us other Valleycliffeans in creating our cross-country ski loop above Raven's Plateau.
You'll walk out of your home to head onto your favourite mountain bike trail, only to find yourself face-to-face with bear, deer, beaver and cougars.
The eagles -without the posse of tourists attached -regularly patrol the Stawamus and circle above the FM tower, and you may even get to know the hawk that roosts in the tree just at the top of Guilford.
In the summer evenings, you can watch flocks of herons making their way to the nest on the cliffs, or watch the climbers scaling those same cliff faces.
And let's be honest about the sun. Everywhere in Squamish is bleak in the winter -the rains fall as steadily in the Highlands as they do in Valleycliffe -but in the summer, the warm rays of the sun bathe our deck by 7 a.m. and all the day long we're gilded with golden sunlight.
Keep your mind and your eyes open and you'll find a rich and welcoming community. Welcome to the neighbourhood Neil and Laura.
We're thrilled to have you as neighbours.
