There aren’t a lot of people around. Tyson Bowen chose the time because that’s when he knew that it would be quiet. It’s almost 6 o’clock at the Tim Horton’s in Stellarton and already dark on a rainy evening in December, 2018. And it is quiet. Apart from a few seniors talking at a table at the other end of the shop the only other sound is coming from the local radio station. It’s quiet, but Bowen is not calm.
“My heart is going 140 bpm. I know how many cars are outside. Where the doors are. I’ve already got it all figured out,” he says. “Just because I’m ready to go. Flight, Fight or Freeze.”
Bowen spent 435 days in Kandahar province as part of multinational operation pushing Taliban insurgent forces out of the region. In 2006 more than 1,000 CAF members launched Operation Medusa in the largest Canadian combat operation since the Second World War.
In 2007, Bowen’s first tour, his regiment was part of the third-rotation of CAF members following up on the gains of Operation Medusa, pursuing and killing the Taliban. He was a sergeant, and he’d just turned 20.
Bowen’s second tour in Afghanistan ended in 2010. He was medically released from the CAF shortly after because of PTSD.
“I’m just stuck with it,” says Bowen. “With what I’ve been through, all the heightened awareness and hyper vigilance from my time overseas. Even something simple like bubble wrap. That’s exactly what bullets sound like when they’re going over your head.”
So, in 2011 he was back in Gagetown, but this time it was at the end of a military career cut short and filling out Veterans Affairs paper work to help reintegrate into civilian life.
Still he had not sought treatment for PTSD.
“I didn’t want to. I just wanted to keep suffering and do it my own way,” he said. “But I had to. I did it because I needed to. My wife was my moral compass and I was going to lose her.”
He was officially diagnosed in 2015. Bowen’s experience with PTSD treatment and the experiences of those nearest to him who were going through the same thing made him wonder if there was anything he could do to further his healing.
And it was this thinking that brought Bowen around to a dream he’d long held. It involved 376 acres and a 100-year old farm.
The Farm
“We’ve known Tyson for about fifteen years,” said John Smees. “He was just one of our daughter’s friends.”
It’s April 12, 2019. John and Nellie Smees are sitting at the kitchen table, which, apart from the chairs are some of the only pieces of furniture left in the house. John grew up here, and Nellie moved in after they were married. This is where they raised their family, and it’s their last night there.
“I don’t think there’s anything better than I could think of doing with the property. Tyson has plans to help veterans. That’s awesome for us. That’s a great feeling.”
The farmhouse and barns are set back on a gravel driveway flanked by a forest on one side and with wide fields on the other that roll downhill to a pond before levelling off and stretching for a kilometer toward the property boundary that is marked by a tall pine tree.
The barn’s skeleton is held together by wooden pegs, and the beams look as straight and strong as when they were first put in place more than 100 years ago. Even though the basement still has everything that a dairy farmer could need, the rows of feeding troughs have been empty for years leaving only concrete and a lot of cleaning up to do, and there’s a second barn for machinery and where food is left for the four or five cats that live there.
This place, and the surrounding fields woodland, will be the future site of Real Canadian Recreation.
“He’s always said that when he’s here that he just feels relaxed,” said Nelly. “It’s wonderful. If it brings him peace and it helps other vets, then that’s phenomenal.”
Real Canadian Recreation is a long-term project expected to go live in 2022.
“We need more different approaches to PTSD, and what we’re trying to do here is a more holistic approach to being calm,” said Bowen. “That’s what a lot of the guys strive to find when they come home. Trying to find calm again.”
Tyson, and his wife Jenna closed on the Smees property on May 2, 2019. The property was purchased through a charity called the Global Alliance Foundation Fund which was started by another Afghanistan veteran named Fabian Henry.
“Everybody’s brain is either on Fight Flight or Freeze,” said Henry during a phone interview. He was speaking to The News from the GAFF headquarters in Fredericton. “And this is about trying to find ways to navigate past that. To find your barriers and to slowly approach them.”
Henry founded the charity Marijuana for Trauma, a national medical marijuana education resource, in 2013. He then sold MfT and put all the money in an escrow account that has grown to $18 million to be used solely for GAFF and Veterans for Healing.
“We’re trying to take care of ourselves,” said Henry. “We’re building a solution that when we do execute in 2022, it’ll be something people can bite their teeth on.”
Real Canadian Recreation
Tyson, his wife Jenna and their two young kids Amelia and Sadie all moved to farm in April. There’s a lot of work to do, and Bowen excitedly walks the property talking about his plans.
A missing skylight in the barn’s roof has let years of rainwater, and the wooden floor far below has been rotted through so that you can see the cement of the former feeding room in the basement below. A section of wall also needs to be repaired and there’s a general mess of hay to clear out before the real work can begin.
In time, the farm will house veterans looking to take some time to reconnect with something that Tyson has found in this part of rural Nova Scotia.
“I’m just trying to find peace. This is the first time in about 11 years when I can actually be in the moment. It’s perfect, is what it is.”
