I stand on muddy earth, the forest a thicket of lush green behind me; cedar and hemlock reach to the sky as salal, deer fern, and pink salmon berry flowers stretch across the forest floor. Gentle waves of the deep ocean channel before me hit the steep rocks that create the shore. A regal raven flies above, the wind whistling through his feathers as he soars to a nearby cedar hidden from view. The only hint to his whereabouts are his echoing calls; a mimicked sound of water droplets hitting the creek below. The water travels down the steep bank, weaving through the forest floor, sometimes it's barely a trickle. If I listen closely enough I may hear the whispered hum of a hummingbird, or the blow of a humpback in the distance as they return with the warming spring.
An unnervingly wild beauty surrounds me. The damp ocean air fills my lungs and clings to my skin. A wood pile sits at my feet, a second further up the bank, drizzle falling upon them as I follow the rhythmic routine of lift and throw, lift and throw; my back and arms protesting the choreography. Whilst I carry and throw firewood, the effort making me hot and tired, the presence of goosebumps has my eyes looking to the trees above, trying to spot the lethal body of a cougar. Stories of their frequency on the island- attacks on pets, as well as on humans- has me on edge.
This is the beauty of the raincoast. Its wilderness is alluring, teaming with life, and full of majesty. A kingdom in its own right; and every kingdom has dangers. A wrong step, bad weather, isolation, and chance encounters with deadly predators could be the end all. But in the distance? That’s the blow of a whale. We abandon our task, jump in the boat, and say hello to our spring visitor.
It’s March, and I have flown from Calgary to Vancouver, Vancouver to Campbell River, hopped on a bus to Port McNeil, and found a last minute boat ride, thanks to the renowned Pierre, all to get to my destination: Echo Bay. Situated between northern Vancouver Island and the mainland, within the Broughton Archipelago, Echo Bay is a small community made up of resilient and skilled individuals who have built homes on the isolated coast. The area is steeped in diverse cultural history, and beckons to those with a deep respect and admiration for the natural world.
I was beckoned by the same call. After years of developing my art practice, I was thrilled to find an opportunity where I could continue to explore nature and outdoor adventure with my paintbrush. An online ad for a firewood/gardening volunteer on an off-grid island jumped out of my computer screen. Yvonne Maximchuck, also an artist, and her husband Al, a retired prawn fisherman and now ceramicist, built their own off-grid home on Gilford Island. Their ad showcased their beautiful home and garden, and spoke of the stunning wilderness, boat excursions, and nature sketching opportunities that came along with the volunteer position. I sent an email, packed my bags, and booked my one way ticket.
The boat chugged along and I was greeted by Yvonne and Al’s warm smiles as they waited on the dock. Within the next 5 weeks I would come to know them, their kindness, and hear their stories building a life here in Echo Bay. A tour of their home showcased their craftsmanship, and gave me an insight into off-grid living; the outdoor wood burning stove that needs to be filled every three hours, the brand new generator, solar panels, and nearby creek whose water feeds the house. The inside of the home is lit up by windows and crafted with beautiful cedar planks. Art adorns the walls, and the air is filled with cheerful banter, and spontaneous tunes. Downstairs is the studio. Feathers, skulls, and other beach finds line the window sills, bookcases overflow with reference books. A spare desk is cleared for me, and I eagerly make my way down here every afternoon to delve into my sketchbook.
Upon meeting Yvonne it was clear I had met a kindred spirit. Also a watercolour artist, Yvonne shares my passion for nature. Joining her on bird counts, plein air sketching sessions and other boat excursions she noted on how the area had changed over the years, pointing out eagle nests, different species of birds, a hooded nudibranch colony, and marine mammals in the distance. Her company, knowledge, and advice has been a true gift in my experience here. Yvonne's watercolour landscapes capture the spirit of Echo Bay, her daughter Theda Phoenix , who also came to visit, is a talented singer/songwriter, taking inspiration from her childhood growing up here. Seeing how our relationship with the land influences our creativity, thus, deepening our love for our surroundings, is beautiful to observe.
Echo Bay is a small community that has grown smaller over the years, the winters are difficult, but the summers bring kayakers, cruisers, and sailors. I am told of the excitement in the summer months, business booms, and a place that seemed isolated months ago is suddenly the centre of the world. The spring is still quiet, and visits with neighbours are essential. It has become so clear to me how important community is. A boat ride to the neighbours and you hear the latest news, have someone offer to get groceries for you on the next town run, or hear stories steeped with humour, or knowledge of the land.
Next door is the Salmon Coast Field Station, a research program that is focused on salmon conservation and monitoring. Salmon are a keystone species; feeding ocean animals, and bringing nutrients from the ocean into the land. In recent years their numbers have been declining due to overfishing and the spread of sea lice. Research is integral to understand how we can intervene to support the ecosystem for generations to come. I’ll be talking about this more in a future post!
Further ahead is Billy Proctors homestead. Born and raised in the area, Billy has gained extensive knowledge of the Raincoast’s history over his 85 years. A conversation with him is filled with plenty of swearing and fisherman's tales. But there is wisdom in what he speaks and it becomes clear what an integral role he has played in the community here. He knows the land intimately, over years of logging, fishing, and trapping, he has a deep respect for the powers around him. Beach-combing from a young age he needed a place to store his “junk”, his beach-finds are a unique collection of the cultural and natural history of the area, and have found themselves in Billy’s Museum. The small building is filled to the brim with artifacts, some thousands of years old. On a cold and drizzly afternoon I found quiet inside the cedar built building and sketched for hours, not realizing how much time was passing.
In my time here I go back and forth between firewood, gardening, and sketching with spontaneous excursions when the weather allows. To be surrounded by such a unique environment and people is truly inspiring, and I log as much down in my sketchbook as I can. From cold boat excursions, being surrounded by orcas, to painting on the beach, and standing under old cedars I feel full of inspiration. I’ll be using these materials to create paintings exploring the natural and cultural history of the Raincoast and will share when the time comes, so keep your eyes peeled!
