Video of where we live – Hornby Island
We came across this video by someone who recently visited Hornby Island. I think he captured it very beautifully and elegantly.
130 Seconds of Hornby Island B.C from Grant Baldwin Videography on Vimeo.
Being on Hornby Island in 1962 to 1966
By John McLachlan
My dad, George, used to shoot in 8mm and then Super 8mm for years including our first trips to Hornby Island.
About ten years ago, I made some small QuickTime videos of some of this early footage. The video quality is unfortunately, not very good (especially in the 1962 video) and the narration is non-existent or really corny, but it gives a little glimpse of things back then.
Enjoy.
1962
1963-1965
1966
Ticked off – small time!
One expected – and yet not expected – element of living out beyond is the ever-present danger of exposure to creatures.
The city has its bedbugs; the country has its ticks. I blame the deer.
Our neighbours were mentioning how they had already pulled out about five of the little monsters from their dog since January. Quite a bit higher than normal. Given that the weather has been cooler on average for the past few months, this was to be expected even though by now the tick season should be over.
So, we had a mild notion that Kepler – our miniature Schnauzer – would at some point come into contact with them. However, given his longer hair it wasn’t quite clear how they would be detected. And we haven’t been good about implementing a foolproof methodology of daily inspection.
A couple of days ago I was simply patting him, and while running my hand down his back, I felt a little “bump.” Looking a little closer, I noticed an orangy thing sticking out from under his hair. It did appear to be pressing into his skin and I immediately thought of a tick. However, I wasn’t sure because I somehow expected a tick to be black or brown, not orange.
I called John over for his inexpert corroboration. He called the neighbour and they said to bring him over for inspection and cure, if necessary.
And so it happened. Sharon confirmed that it was indeed a tick and went into action. She applied vaseline and left it for ten minutes. I think this suffocates them. Then she used her finger nails to extricate it with a counter-clockwise motion. Her diagnosis was that it had probably only been there for a few hours because it wasn’t engorged with blood. Good.
Hopefully he wasn’t infected with Lyme Disease or some other dastardly affliction.
Device for pulling out ticks Photo: Darren Bond
Yesterday I was in Comox and stopped in at the animal hospital. They gave me a little plastic contraption to pull out ticks. They said that the counter clockwise motion wasn’t necessary; straight out would be fine. Kepler was also groomed yesterday while in town. I think we’ll keep him more closely cut than normal now that he’s a country dog and has to “live out beyond,” too.
Hopefully the weather will now warm up and we can rest more easily – but not too easily – about the dreaded wildlife.
Welcome to Hornby, of a sort
We’ve actually moved here. It was a few weeks ago already. Tranquil? Not yet. Not by a long shot.
First Night on Hornby
The first few days were calm: getting settled in to the “summer place” (living here while our house is built over the next fifteen months). Then, going for our first bike rides on our new bikes. Getting full grocery loads at the Co-op. Checking out the dry goods section. Ordering wine and liquor from a three-ring binder and giving your slip to the “girl.” A bit of jogging. All good.
Ordering Liquor at Co-op
Our first weekend morning – a tranquil Sunday morning – we were doing our first load of laundry with the new “portable” washing machine and doing various bits of internet work. Suddenly, the lights flickered a bit and then there was a kind of shaking and a bang. “Was that an earthquake?” The lights went out.
It turned out that, by some fluke, our power lines – as they connect to the main system at the pole at the back of the lot – snapped off. The lines were lying across the back yard. Hmmm, what to do. Wait! Are the wires hot? No, they’re disconnected. So, that’s good, I guess. Now what?
John called BC Hydro – the electricity provider hereabouts – and they were very accommodating. However, they couldn’t make it over to the island that very afternoon because they were tied up at a house fire – good excuse – but would come over on the first ferry Monday morning.
In the meantime, being early spring, we knew it would be a chilly house in short order, so it was time to get the fire going and warm things up as much as possible before jumping under the duvet and getting the extra woollen blanket from the top of the closet. Kindling – always in demand – was a bit too much to tackle when there were lots of dry branches and twigs around the road from the windy winter. Soon enough, a cheery fire was laid in the fireplace. Kepler kept close.
We thought they might show up around 9:00 or 10:00 or 11:00am but, sure enough, we heard the beeping sound of the big truck backing down our little lane at 8:00 sharp. Yay!
They had a couple of guys and their little hydraulic bucket was quickly raised and the one guy had things reconnected within fifteen minutes. There was also an old pole that was supposed to have been taken away a year ago by TELUS but he graciously got out his chainsaw and had it down in seconds. Great service!
With the power on, everything fell back into pattern. All our problems were over. Until Tuesday.
One of the nice features of our new bikes is the “grocery bag” that attaches to the bike. Perfect. We went to the Co-op – I was getting confident riding again after forty-odd years – and picked up some items. Now, perhaps the load was a bit heavy for each of us. And maybe this was a bit of foreshadowing.
Returning home along the road – so sunny and pleasant that I neglected to put on my cycling gloves – all was well. Until my memory goes blank.
I think I must have a hit a patch of gravel on a down-hill curve and lost my balance and control. The next thing I recall, the ambulance crew was looking down at me. John was a bit ahead and noticed that I wasn’t behind him. He came back and found me in a heap on the road and flagged down a car to call 911.
It was all a bit of a procedure to transport me from ambulance to ambulance to ambulance (they can’t leave their respective island territories) to hospital in Comox. However, the speed, care and attention was phenomenal.
Darren in St. Joseph's Hospital in Comox
It was the oddest kind of “welcome wagon” I had ever experienced! But, in the end, it was a great experience, too. My few days in the hospital (mainly because of a damaged kidney) were fine, even being kept in an emergency room overflow area… John collected me and brought me home.
Again, I was able to experience first-hand the local medical care by going in to the local clinic to have my dressings changed (not pretty). As it turns out, I was one of the last in the existing clinic. They have just taken possession of a brand new building, and so the next time one of us is in need of immediate care, we can trust our local facility.
Now, having returned from a four-day conference in Vancouver, and another week under our belt, let us now hope that the “living out beyond” can begin. However, perhaps that has already happened, just in a slightly different format than we imagined.
Late Light on Arbutus
Isn’t that always the way?
Welcome gift of flowers from neighbours
Memories of Shingle Spit Resort
Though it’s now called Hornby Island Resort, in my mind it will always be Shingle Spit Resort. It’s the place my family stayed the first year we came to Hornby Island in 1962.
Here is one side of a brochure for the resort from about 1966. Click on the thumbnail for a larger view:
This video below shows a little walk-around of the current facility where the store, restaurant and pub are/were. It’s changed a little over the years but not a whole lot. There are plans underway to redevelop this complex. In a weird sort of way, I’ll be kind of sad to see it go only because it holds a place in my childhood memories.
The evening this was shot, it was almost dark with grey skies and a bit of a south-easterly blowing. I was the only person around.
After first week on Hornby Island
A few thoughts about the first week on Hornby Island and the bicycle accident that Darren had. It was a hard way to find out how the emergency services work.
Our living room in 1971
This photo is of me, burning grass on the exact spot where the living room of our new house will sit.
What’s 40 years?
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.
