Groundswell
By Darren Bond
It’s August 2010 now and we’ve seen some concrete steps on the property. Up at the back, there’s orange tape wrapped around trees. Coloured tape is always a good sign that things are happening.
The placement for the septic field seems pretty much established. This is a critical component to be ironed out before the house plans can start.
Now, the well placement will happen. Tim Wyndham, the construction side of Blue Sky Design, will arrange for this to happen. Apparently there’s an eighty-odd year-old lady from Denman that can do this, but the lot is a bit too steep and unstable for her. We’ll have to settle on someone else.
Given where the tall green grass grows at the bottom of the lot, I’m guessing that this won’t be a difficult decision, but who knows. Also, this would put it fairly close to the existing well for the summer home just across the lane.
With these milestones completed, the land can be cleared! Tim thinks that the best time for this is October. It allows for Michael McNamara to do the site plan – just the placement of everything but no concrete design, yet – and before the winter rains come.
Boy, will things ever look different out there. And, there’s no turning back.
Post script: the well witching happened and, as expected, the well will go where the tall green grass is growing at the corner of the lot far away from the septic field.
It Has Always Felt “Right” To Do This
By John McLachlan
In my post Ten Romantic Reasons For Living Out Beyond the tenth reason I gave was that it has always just felt right to do.
I have always felt a connection to Hornby Island. I’ve been going there for 48 years and that past does have a hold on me which I wrote about in my song “There is a Star.” This sums it up:
I hear a voice calling
I see my spirit falling
Through time and space endlesslyI feel my soul revealing
I taste this hidden feeling
Oh Hornby you got your hold again on me
This reason is totally romantic and irrational, but if you are at all into “listening to your gut” then if I listen to mine, it’s saying loud and clear that it’s a good idea to start living out beyond.
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Image above is of John McLachlan in about 1971 near Phipps Point on Hornby Island, British Columbia.
I Want To Have More Silence In My Life
By John McLachlan
In my post Ten Romantic Reasons For Living Out Beyond the ninth reason I gave was that I’d like more silence in my life.
Perhaps it’s not silence I crave, but rather quietness. I’m not sure.
I’ve had very few experiences with silence in my life to know what it’s really like. Silence brings me face-to-face with myself and I suspect that’s why people often avoid silence at all costs, even if they don’t know they are avoiding it. It’s probably why we turn to music, TVs and radios to avoid being alone with ourselves.
I like the climate of Vancouver’s summer except for one aspect of it: noise. Because windows need to be left open, the sound from the street is very obvious and prevalent on summer afternoons and evenings. These sounds include general traffic, sirens, loud truck engines, motorcycles (of which I truly wish could be eliminated from the face of the planet for their incredible noise) and just the general din of the city. It’s fine for a while, but after a day of it, I find it exhausts me.
I wonder about what constant noise does to our brains. It’s almost as if we need “noise screen” like we need “sun screen.” There’s the obvious issue of hearing damage but it’s more than just that. It’s the toll it takes on our nerves. No wonder everyone got in a fight in Spike Lee’s movie Do The Right Thing.
Is silence just absence of noise?
To think about silence, I would suggest that it first needs to be looked at in relation to noise. I think of silence as falling into two categories.
Small Silence (in that there isn’t much of it).
This is the whole environment that includes both audible noise which comes from the obvious things (sounds you hear) and, for lack of a better term, “non-audible” noise.
That non-audible noise could be thought of as the “energy” of a place such as an active city. It’s a place with lots of stimulation. Most cities would fall into this category. A city such as New York is a good example. It’s noisy to the ears, but it’s also noisy from the frenetic energy that exists from all the people, ideas, activities and tension.
Big Silence.
In the audible sense, it would be places that have few sounds and the sounds that do exist are not loud. This would include nature or a quiet building that has little or no mechanical devices running (fridge, washing machine, dish washer, coffee maker, kettle). In the non-audible sense, it would include places that have a feeling of being silent. Ever stood in a forest on a windless day, stared at the stars on a calm night or sat in an abandoned building? That’s Big Silence!
In these places, some of what makes them seem so silent is what meaning we bring to them but whatever the reason, the feeling can be quite overbearing and significant and depending on our outlook or emotional state, can affect us deeply.
Many people can’t stand to be in this kind of silence. It scares them. I think it may be because we come face to face with ourselves and that’s something we rarely do in the din of a city or with our two ears stuffed with little speakers blaring into our brains.
Silence can scare me. When I’ve spent time on my own at my family’s summer house on Hornby Island, I’ve had some very soul-searching experiences because of the silence. The silence doesn’t let you fool yourself or divert from the thoughts in your head. As scary as this was, I’m very glad that I’ve had these experiences because they’ve moved me along and helped me see things differently.
Building silence in.
One of the requirements for me in the house that we build is that it be well-insulated to ensure it can be a very quiet environment when we want it to be. I suspect having a green roof will help in this respect (especially with rain) and I know our architect also designs houses with roofs that have curves and different shapes to them versus blocky square corners that get hit by wind and react noisily.
I know one thing, there will be a lot more silence living out beyond.
I Want To Be More Self-sufficient
By John McLachlan
In my post Ten Romantic Reasons For Living Out Beyond the eighth reason I gave was that I wanted be more self-sufficient.
It is our plan to have a garden and few fruit trees to at least do some “looking after ourselves” even if it’s more fun than serious.
It’s not that many years ago when the vast majority of the population lived on farms or at the very least, had gardens in and around their homes. Though this is coming back to some urban areas, it’s still in its early days and it’s just not that feasible.
Where we will be living, it’s very desirable to have a small garden. Provided we have enough water, the climate is very suitable for growing vegetables as well as possibilities for fruit trees. In fact, Hornby Island was once home to many acres of orchards before BC’s Okanagan region got irrigation.
The self-sufficiency issue goes beyond just food. It stretches into being able to live modestly and be without debt. Building a house and living on the island will allow this much sooner than it would by staying in the city.
I’m not an alarmist who wants to build a compound and barricade myself in with two years of supplies, but I do feel it doesn’t hurt to be more self-sufficient in the world we live in. I’m able to achieve this just a little more living out beyond.
I Have Always Wanted To Live In My Own House
By John McLachlan
In my post Ten Romantic Reasons For Living Out Beyond the seventh reason I gave was that I’d always wanted my own house.
I grew up in a house in the suburbs. I liked it. It had a great back yard that included a creek and a forested area. I would play for hours there. When I grew up I started living in condos which have been, in general, quite good but my fondness for them is coming to an end.
One thing I don’t like about living in a condominium is the communal aspect. Even in nicer buildings it’s amazing to see how some people treat their (our) property. Also, it seems like eventually, things get run down and it’s not so easy to get consensus for repair. Other issues include sound from other suites and the general din of living in an urban setting.
This may sound like I’m contradicting my headline for this post, but for years, I’ve never had the desire to have a house of my own. The primary reasons have been that I didn’t want to care for a house (a lot more is involved than in an apartment) and I didn’t want to live in a suburb where most houses are. Additional reasons are that it is extremely difficult to get a house design I like in a neighbourhood I like in a price range that I like.
I have however, always wanted to have a house designed with custom features and built from scratch. I’ve rolled this idea around in my head for years but always gave up on it due to cost and location.
The situation has changed. Due to a shift in priorities as a result of age, for one thing, and the ability to now work from a more remote area—for both me and my partner, Darren—and the gift my parents gave to us of a piece of property they bought back in 1969, it’s now possible.
Essentially, we’re ready.
We will be building a small but unique house designed by local architect Michael McNamara that will fit in with the landscape, be quite “green” and be built by his building partner, Tim Wyndham whom I’ve known since I was a child.
Once we’ve moved in, it will be an adjustment for us to be looking after a house. We won’t be able to simply shut the door and go away, but I think it’s going to be worth having something we love living in as we are living out beyond.
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Image above is of Darren Bond looking at a doll’s house designed by our architect, Michael McNamara for a fundraiser on Hornby Island, British Columbia in 2010.
I Want To Smell Natural Things On A Regular Basis.
By John McLachlan
In my post Ten Romantic Reasons For Living Out Beyond the fifth reason I gave was that I wanted to smell natural things on a regular basis.
Some may think this is the same as my fourth reason which was about breathing fresh air, but there’s a difference here.
When you live in a city you really don’t detect many natural scents from living things unless you visit a park, and even then they are often dominated by other urban scents.
The scents in a rural setting become very pronounced and are, to me, extremely nourishing to the body and soul. Every place has its own special scents based on the climate, vegetation and geography.
On Hornby Island these include the sea air of course, the smell of bleached driftwood and seaweed, the fresh scent of the fir trees on forest walks, the scent of Nootka Roses in June, and one of my favourites of all, the scents that blow off the fields of brambles while walking along Shingle Spit Road, especially on summer evenings when the offshore breeze wafts the fragrant sweetness over my body.
Smelling wonderful scents is a great reason for living out beyond.
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Image above is by John McLachlan of a Cedar tree.
I Want To FEEL The Weather
By John McLachlan
In my post Ten Romantic Reasons For Living Out Beyond the sixth reason I gave was that I wanted to feel the weather.
Being in a rural setting coupled with being on an island means the weather is always present and you are always aware of it. Hearing the waves on the shore, the wind blowing through the trees or the sound of rain on the Maples is so amazing.
We miss the subtleties of the weather when we live in urban environments. One reason is that we often work in well-sealed concrete buildings with air conditioning and we shop in malls where the need to venture outside is unnecessary. Even if we do venture outside, it’s usually to simply head from one building to another.
In the city, you have a half-dozen or so weather settings: cold, hot, sunny, rainy, windy or calm. Where I’ll be living there are myriad weather settings. Essentially, it’s possible to feel all the levels in between cold and hot and when it comes to wind, the differences are amazing.
Feeling the weather instead of looking at the weather forecast is what I’m going to like about living out beyond.
I Want To Breathe Fresh Air
By John McLachlan
In my post Ten Romantic Reasons For Living Out Beyond the fourth reason I gave was that the I want to breathe fresh air.
I currently live in a city with relatively clean air, but it’s still not as clean as on the island I’m moving to.
The fact that our house location will be about 150 feet from the shore means breezes are ever-present and those breezes blow very fresh air from across Lambert Channel in the Strait of Georgia.
It is true that for a few days a year when there is no wind, some smoke from fireplaces can hang in the air but still the quality of the air is consistently superior to a that of the city.
Of my ten romantic reasons, this is one that is the least subjective.
It would be hard to find anyone who could fault the health benefits of breathing cleaner air living out beyond.
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Image above is of Darren Bond and dog, Kepler on a summer evening looking out on Lambert Channel from Hornby Island, British Columbia.
The Idea Of It Scares Me
By John McLachlan
In my post Ten Romantic Reasons For Living Out Beyond the third reason I gave was that the idea of it scares me.
This will seem strange to anyone who currently lives in the country and is fully adjusted to their lifestyle, but to someone who has always lived in the city, there are things about the shift that are a tad scary.
I have an element of fear about what it will be like in late February on a west coast island after several months of grey weather and dampness. Will I be stir-crazy? Will I want to flee to Mexico?
I have an element of fear regarding living in such a small community where everyone knows each other’s business. Will this drive me nuts?
I have an element of fear around the isolation from current friends and family. Will the connections start to fade and will I see less and less of them because it’s not convenient? Who will I stay in touch with? Who will I lose?
These are the types of things I think about in the upcoming move from my urban existence where I’ve lived for 50 years.
It’s interesting what reactions I get from people when I tell them that I’m moving from a downtown urban setting to a house on an island. Some, think I’m nuts and say I will deeply regret it warning that I won’t have an array of cultural events, restaurants or friends nearby to see, while others can’t even fathom why it’s even an issue as though any person in their right mind would leave the urban setting.
I suppose, I’m somewhere in between. I really do like the city and what it offers. I like the energy of it and the variety of experiences it offers but I also know it’s all I’ve ever known and for years I’ve had a desire to live differently.
I know this desire to live differently is a romantic one, but living more quietly, remotely or more “out beyond” is something that is a little scary to me and that fear seems like something I have to just face and go for.
What moves have you made in your life that scared you? Were they worth it? Is being scared a good reason for living out beyond?
The Perfect Living Room
John's parent's living room in their first house after getting married in 1950
By Darren Bond
Ah, the centrepiece of the home: you need to get this right or there’s no point in going on.
Let’s see. What do experts say.
Too big and people avoid a room. They want something more intimate. Too small and you can’t have company over. Is it part of a single open kitchen/dining/living area? What about a working space/office: is it part of this or separate?
Numerically, we’re thinking that it should sit six comfortably with some room to add in extra chairs when the Christmas crowd is over.
Clearly, the view plays a central role and so the exposure to the water is important. We won’t be right on the water, but just up a slope and will be able to see above and between two summer homes.
A patio or a deck or a verandah? It depends how high up in the air it is. Since we’re on a hill it remains to be seen how the overall placement of the house turns out. Given the amphitheatre / bowl shape to the property, there could be the intriguing placement of rooms at slightly different levels (but then we’re dealing with the dreaded issues of stairs, again).
Assuming some space outside beyond the living room, how big should it be? How many people should it support? Is there where the BBQ should be, or is that perhaps better placed closer to the kitchen? Presumably Michael McNamara will have the appropriate proportions for all this. Even in the summer here, there can be a slightly chilly breeze coming in off the water, so some kind of windbreak would be nice, although we think an area in the back may help serve the purpose for having a protected area for entertaining depending on the direction of the wind.
Window treatments is a puzzlement; an overhang help protect from direct light but makes it bit darker than desirable in the winter months. Awnings are quite a rarity but perhaps they have their place. We’ve seen retractable models in magazines but that seems like overkill and possibly out of our price range.
I want a piano and acoustically the room needs to be able to take it to avoid people having to resort to pillows to muffle the forte bits. Maybe I’ll give recitals (after I’ve practiced for a few years to try to recover any technique I once had). John can serve hors d’oeuvres and chilled martinis. Will the assembled guests spill out onto the deck? Will they spill on the carpet?
The ceiling could well be somewhat domed given the kind of curved “green” roofs that Michael often does. This would help dissipate the sound, but we’re cognizant that what can seem impressive can be cold. People are apparently attracted to cozier, more intimate spaces. Plus, given that it will be just the two of us most often, it needs to be a room in constant use rather than the Eagles Hall.
Ah, the flooring. We’re thinking tile throughout. With radiant heating. Maybe a carpet here or there, but I’m keen to avoid materials that invite creatures that invite my mild asthma. Grey? Probably. Grout? No (or minimal if necessary). Shade: medium, I’m thinking. It would be nice to use local material, if possible.
Living at about the 50-degree North latitude mark, fireplaces are pretty much required, and who doesn’t like a fireplace. Once derided as evil ecologically, they now come very well regarded in this respect. However, will it look a little too hermetically sealed and defeat the whole purpose?
Also, since we will likely combine the kitchen, dining room and living room into one long room, perhaps the fireplace can be a two-sided design and act as a separator. We would need to be careful, though, not to have it too close to the dining room and having some poor soul melting through their Baked Alaska.
Now, to the issue of the office. Is it actually part of the living room or separate? Not so long ago it would be an easy answer: separate. We had books and desks and shelves and hardware. Over time, though, with digital this and digital that, we’ve gotten rid of our CDs, DVDs, files, books and just about everything except for a laptop, an iPad and a phone. So, rather than creating a whole separate room, why not integrate it into the common living area rather than being banished?
One thought that’s come to us is a kind of “around the corner” spot with something like a half-wall or screen – almost in a Frank Lloyd Wright kind of way – that combines the best of both. On the other hand, there might still be good reasons to have a space that’s completely shut off.
This, then, introduces another room, and a topic for another post, on the “second bedroom.” Can it be a single room with dual function, or is neither a satisfactory solution. You’re either sleeping in an office or working in a bedroom.
Anyway, as with all rooms, much to think about. I’m sure I’ve missed some important considerations. Lighting, for example. Wall space for artwork. TV? (We don’t subscribe, but we do have a flat screen for watching movies. Can it be hidden or integrated somehow in a clever way?)
What does your experience tell you? Tell us.
