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Harbour Spiel September 2011 issue

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August 2011 editorial: Casualties of a wet July

 By Brian Lee

By the time you read this I’m guessing it’s the BC Day long weekend and — with any luck — the weather has improved. Hopefully, by now, folks’ biggest concern is how they will keep their yard looking green while abiding local sprinkling restrictions.

I say "hopefully" because as I write this, the rain hasn’t stopped for more than five minutes in days. It’s approaching the end of July yet the lakes are still chilly and the waterfall coming off the Caren Range looks downright Niagran. (When you can make it out through the low-lying cloud, that is.)

Maybe more than most places, we hold an expectation that weather will co-operate after June. We expect to go to bed without concern about whether the barbeque is covered or if the car windows are rolled up. It may come from enduring life in a rainforest for 10 months of the year but when our BC summer gets washed out, we feel cheated.

Even angry. It’s as if a contract has been violated. But summer weather like the July we’ve just had causes more than mere discomfort. Consider this story from Kleindale last month:

Tim (not his real name) says he and his wife have lived here for about five years. The fishing has been pretty good this spring and Tim has made a habit of heading out every Saturday morning to drag a lure.

His wife gets seasick so he goes alone and every Saturday for the past three months he got up at 5 a.m., made his lunch and drove to his boat. He usually zips down to Thormanby or over to Texada and more often than not, he’s returned with his limit. Last Saturday morning it was pretty ugly out but he still got up and made his weekly trek down to the boat.

But even before he’d untied, the little bilge pump in his Boston Whaler was barely keeping pace with the flood of rainwater. As he ran through the Harbour, the rain started coming down in torrential sheets but it wasn’t until he saw the 4-foot chop outside that he lost interest for the first time this year. Ten minutes later, he was back in his truck listening to the weather report predicting more of the same. There would be no fishing today.

So, Tim drove home, quietly undressed and slipped back into bed. He says by this time he’d hatched a new plan for his Saturday morning activity and as he cuddled up to his wife’s back, he whispered,

"The weather out there is terrible."

To which she sleepily replied,

"Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that shit?"

Harbour Spiel August 2011 issue

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July 2011 editorial: Giving up our secrets

 

By Brian Lee

 I don’t usually aim the words in this space at visitors but it’s so nice to finally see some fresh faces in town, I thought I’d reach out. If you’re a local, this doesn’t concern you so just turn the page . . .

Seriously, there’s a photo of a shark in the next spread — beat it.

OK. Sorry about that. One thing you should know: locals are extremely nosy — try to be patient with them.

Anyway, welcome to Pender Harbour and Egmont. It really is a fascinating little place, as diverse as it is hard to find your way around. First, a navigational tip:

Ignore the ocean; it may be a handy reference point in other places like Tofino or Seattle but here it will drive you crazy. When you do get lost, you’re likely not far away from one of four roads that will take you back to the highway:

Egmont Road, Francis Peninsula Road, Garden Bay Road and Hotel Lake Road. (If you’re in a boat and get disoriented, drop anchor and sleep it off.)

And take solace that this confusing system of roads and waterways is what cloaks the magic of the area. To find it, I’d suggest asking just about anyone who looks like they need a shower for a recommendation about a special hike, swimming hole or place to pee. By the way, don’t pee in Garden Bay Lake — they hate that over there.

You’ll notice we’re blessed with more than our share of postcard quality lakes and you wouldn’t be faulted for assuming our water quality must be second to none. It’s not. But, though our tap water may look like coffee, it actually is safe — to shower in. Improvements are well underway to all our local water systems so don’t worry about that if you’re thinking about moving here.

Which brings me to a question:

Do you have any kids? We desperately need more kids. Our school enrollment’s down a bit and the number crunchers keep threatening to bus what’s left to Sechelt. Sechelt’s a town about a half hour away but you need only go there if you crave sushi.

Instead, stay up here an extra couple of days and scratch a little deeper. Seek out the hidden gems like Francis Point Marine Park, Klein Lake, Harbour Gallery, Iris Griffith Centre, Pender Hill or the eagle sanctuary/landfill just off Garden Bay Road. While you do, I encourage you to leave some of your Albertan loot with the variety of shops and services found in the next 48 pages.

It’s been an especially quiet winter for our 17 full-time residents and they’ll really appreciate the boost. (If, on the off-chance you happen to stumble upon a business that doesn’t advertise here, don’t waste your time — they’re probably no frickin’ good anyways.)

Finally, like most first-time visitors to the area, you will be startled to keep seeing what you think is the same person over and over again. Don’t be creeped out — you’re likely seeing different people.

They’re just kin.

Harbour Spiel July 2011 issue

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June 2011 editorial: The big election is still to come

 
By Brian Lee

 

 After all the political posturing, propaganda and pollstering we’ve just endured, you couldn’t be faulted for forgetting the most important election of all is still to come.

It’s not Clark vs Dix.

Nor is it American Idol.

It’s the one where we decide who to send down to the SCRD boardroom to represent our interests and to play a role in defining the future of the entire Sunshine Coast.

Voting on bylaws and haranguing SCRD staff for reports may sound inconsequential compared to the intellectual issues faced in federal politics, but it isn’t. The SCRD directors weigh in and offer local guidance to federal or provincial responsibilities like forestry, the environment or fisheries and can hold a lot of sway with decisions made at higher levels of government.

But those decisions made by the eight directors in the SCRD boardroom can also have immediate effects on such things as your level of taxation, how or where you can build and where your water comes from. It’s these issues, decided by a boardroom vote, that often hinge merely on discussion and swayed by the strongest orator of the day. Direction in policy can result from as little as an impassioned argument by a delegation from the floor or a director grinding a political axe.

The board often says its interest is tied to the greater benefit of the entire Sunshine Coast but many budget issues pit directors against each other and each is responsible for taking care of his or her respective area’s interests first. And rightly so — that’s how the system works. So it becomes extremely important to elect a director who is an effective communicator.

But even more important than that is to have a director at all. Right now, Area A is once again faced with the possibility of entering an election without a candidate. The last time we were lucky — we had two suitable candidates throw their hats in the ring. Our current director has stated he will not pursue a second term and no one else has yet shown an interest in his job.

It doesn’t seem to be a problem for the other electoral areas. Other directors aren’t faced with the long drive to attend boardroom meetings (often cited by previous Area A directors as the most onerous part of the job). It may contribute to any burnout that may come with the position and puts Area A at a distinct political disadvantage — because it’s a job where experience counts.

Most of the returning directors in the south will be fighting for (at least) their third term on the SCRD board and are well-versed in the language and protocol required to be successful at the board level. Many hold other political appointments that supplement their income making it more favourable to hold on to their seat.

The lack of a candidate presents an urgent situation for Area A’s future. Issues often arise in which we sit politically and geographically isolated from the population centres down the Coast, making it ever more important we put a strong voice at the table. It’s a tough job but also a very important one.

Any takers?

Harbour Spiel June 2011 issue

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May 2011 editorial: A downhill battle

 

By Brian Lee

 

When I interviewed cover boy Bricin Lyons in recognition of the 10th Attack of Danger Bay longboard race, we had a chuckle about one of the first times we met. It was about 11 years ago and I had just moved back to Pender Harbour. Before that I had only casually rode my roommate’s longboard around the side streets of North Burnaby.

One evening I was at the Garden Bay Pub with a couple of friends for dinner and on our way home we ran into Bricin. He had a stack of boards that were nothing more than huge planks with wheels. Bricin wanted to hit some hills but needed a ride so he convinced us to go for a tour north to Egmont.

We all rode a few small warm up hills along the way and by the time we reached Egmont Road, Bricin had us convinced we were ready to tackle the hill leading down into the Earl’s Cove ferry terminal. He assured us that if we didn’t feel comfortable going all the way down, we could just pull off on one of the roads at the top. I was the only taker but had no intention of going all the way into the terminal. Instinctively, I knew that hill was much too steep and confined for my skills.

But he assured us in that trademark all-caps voice of his that if we did keep going, it was a piece of cake.

"Once you reach the bottom of the hill, all you have to do is to carve a hard right uphill and coast to a stop."

His absolute assurance and the three caesars I had at the pub gave me just the right amount of confidence to consider it — and besides, if I wasn’t comfortable I could just "pull off at the top." I should also mention I was wearing shorts and Birkenstock sandals.

And maybe it was six caesars.

Anyway, Bricin went first and stopped at the top to make sure the coast was clear. He needn’t have bothered because by the time I reached him, I was wide-eyed and fully committed. Unable to turn and already battling speed wobbles, I just flew past him down the steep hill into the terminal. Bricin gave the ecstatic "whoop!" of a sadist who’s about to see some carnage and hopped on his board to follow.

The next few moments are crystal clear as I picked up even more speed and the board threatened to shake me. I remember trying to hang on while preparing for the only thing that could save me — that swooping 180-degree bottom turn. But as I rounded the bottom end of the concrete dividers, I realized I was only going to be able manage 60 degrees of it and quickly reassessed my options.

The first was to continue in the direction I was on. The picture of that path is still imprinted in my mind: a narrow gap between two concrete dividers offering a tragically small strip of grass and a chain link fence. At the speed I was travelling, the chain link fence was like a cheese grater and as it rushed at me I took option B — I bailed on the asphalt.

I busted off a big toenail and shredded my left palm and all the skin on the right side of my leg. As I lay on the ground mentally surveying my injuries, our buddy Andy, who was following in the car, rolled to a stop right above me.

Laughing uncontrollably, he hopped out of the Jeep Cherokee and came running over as it kept rolling — right on top of me. As I tried to scramble out of the way, he hopped back in and managed to put the brake on, barely saving me from further injury and humiliation.

I missed work for a few days and after that, when I’d go skating with Bricin, I was happy to just take photos.

Harbour Spiel May 2011 issue

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April 2011 editorial: A ‘refreshing’ irony for local history

 

By Brian Lee

Once in a while I get accused of being overly nostalgic in this column about "the way things used to be." As one who appreciates where this place came from and misses some of the elements of its past, it’s hard not to be sometimes. If you take the time to learn about something — its past, its character and those qualities that make it unique — you automatically become protective.

Fostering an appreciation for what came before through the preservation of historical artifacts is not only a gift each generation can pass on to the next, it is a responsibility. And so its significance is magnified when that history is personal, local.

So, right now, I’m sure there are some who could be accused of being overly nostalgic for their sadness in seeing the demolition of the Madeira Park Teacherage. It’s hard to argue with the sentiment.

The building may have been the first home in Madeira Park, likely built in the first half of the 1930s. It later became the first school in town, acquiring the persistent nickname of the "Teacherage" because it later became the home for arriving teachers in the late 1940s. Since then it has been used for any number of uses: janitors’ quarters, storage, community school — I even attended kindergarten there.

My first school memory was of Denise Mackay (who also happened to be one of the first teachers who taught and lived there in 1948) administering a test in the small classroom to see if I was intellectually capable of undergoing the rigours of kindergarten. The test consisted of making a bridge out of three blocks so a toy car could pass under. I recall I aced it — blocks and toy cars were pretty much all I did back then.

But that’s as far as my nostalgia for the Teacherage takes me — I’m happy it’s gone. I’m not really that callous — I just happen to know it was standing in the way of something that promises to be much better (see p. 5). Sometimes an excessive reverance for history becomes impractical and obstructive.

It was an old, rotten shack with ferns growing through its roof and its demolition may pave the way for some exciting possibilities that will further the preservation of the area’s heritage. Hopefully, the site will become a cornerstone of the community, perhaps as a museum and archives. There are many other possibilities but we’ll have to wait and see.

In the meantime, I’m excited about the potential for what lies ahead.

I think of Peter C. Newman’s quote:

"History is no more than memories refreshed."

I look forward to helping build a place to keep them refreshed.