New Life on the Coast

A refreshing bath at Irene's before we head north across the rapids. First stop Ed' place

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle: The Hermit of Nameless Bay

At first glance it might seem odd to be writing of one who has chosen to live alone in a section entitled: Sustainable Community. But the hermits of the Northwest Coast have a long and honourable history as an important part of the larger coastal community. And anyway, sustainable community does not only have to do with other people!

Ed Zeemel first came to the Coast in 1969, having finished a 5-year hitch in the navy. Like hundreds of other young people that summer, he was drawn to the rolling surf and shining sands of Long Beach, Tofino. Over the next decade or so he worked on the oil rigs, in the Arctic, Middle East, North Sea. But the Coast called, and finally Ed “retired” for a while, wandering the inlets and channels of the mid-Coast in his 30-foot sailboat.

While operating a new and used tool store in North Van in the early ‘90s, Ed purchased the motor barge Wild Card. In 1996 he headed north, back to the inlets he loved. Anchoring for the night in the “unnamed bay” east of Tuna Point and north of Mary Island, Ed discovered that the float shack that had long occupied the bay was gone. He decided to stay.

Wild Card needed some work on her bottom. Hauling in some timbers he had found on the beach around the corner, Ed constructed a cradle. She felt pretty good up on the high-tide line, except when the cruise ships went by in Johnstone Strait. So he constructed a rock and log breakwater. And thus the building projects began.

Ed discovered that if he did a little bit, nature would do a lot, instructing him as he went along. He took out the downed trees and branches, opening up the forest so that the berry bushes would grow. He filled the holes with forest debris and driftwood from the beach, leveling off areas where you can grow a bit of garden, split some wood, sort and store “gifts from the sea,” or just sit in the early morning or late evening sun. A park-like atmosphere emerged. He dug out the side of a cliff to form a grotto, with a spring-like pool to provide fresh water.

Ed lives alone but never lonely. His neighbours are the otters, the black bears, the birds and the deer. “Mostly we get along,” Ed says. “But like all good neighbours, we have to respect each other’s space. I’m not adverse to putting a pellet from my air rifle into a young bear’s backside when he insists on stealing my apples. One time I cored an apple and filled it with hot pepper. Didn’t see that bear around for a while after that!”

In his projects, Ed uses the wealth of material that floats by his bay or washes up in the southeast gales. “There’s always a use for something,” Ed says. “If not now, later.”

Ed's rain gear.

Some hermits desire privacy and appreciate others respecting that. Not so Ed Zeemel. One of his projects is to carve out kayaker camping spots above the tide line in his bay. Another project, using driftwood from the beach and brush from the forest, is to reclaim the eroded shoreline so that grass will grow again. “If the grass comes back, so will the geese,” Ed says. “And if the geese come back, I will die a happy man.”

Compost, seaweed and a little rock re-arranging for Ed's rich garden beds.
The mysterious "O" gardens.

Minstrel Island

Last time we visited Minstrel Island the people who ran the resort, restaurant and fuel dock had gone bankrupt. They had just walked away from mountains of equipment, old buildings and supplies. People were helping themselves to all kinds of things – some of our canning jars come from this historical place. Long before them it was the hub of a populated area at the mouth of Knight Inlet. Another year we walked around the remains of the old school up in woods. I read an account of a couple who ran a successful shingle mill at the other end of Chatham Channel – every time I pass that idyllic spot I wish we could drop in. They were in their 80’s in 1991, stubbornly refusing to follow the others and abandon the life they’d loved. The mom reminisces “The kids went to school at Minstrel Island, five miles there and back alone in their own boat. That’s what turned my hair grey.” I guess those kids would have been my age.

Once there was so much activity at Minstrel Island it was common to see 150 loggers there on Boat Day to meet the freight boat. There was a hotel, school, dance hall, as many as 3 cafes at one time and a lot of bootleggers. The name comes from the once famous minstrel shows – nearby is Negro Rock and Bones Bay. I know it had a rowdy reputation, so when we passed Clapp Passage and Doctor Islets I pulled out the copy of Walbran’s British Columbia Place Names that Josh B gave us. And no, it was Navigating Lieutenant Edward Scobell Clapp – no word about the Doctor Is or Negro Rock.

With all this history of former community life, including the centuries of large populations of Native people, it was heartbreaking to hear that the dismal, crumbling bankrupt remains had gone to some millionaire for a private resort.

Minstrel dock in 2005

IMAGINE OUR SURPRISE when we met people from Mudge Island (beside Gabriola) and 3 friendly dogs. (Big old Sarah, part heeler, who wouldn’t stop licking my hand, must have smelt Cisco.) 4 families from Mudge bid on the 50 acres and buildings. “And here we are, we’re going to enjoy this place!” They plan to start small, they’re building a safe deck around the old house, and the dock where we tied up is in much better shape. Clam digger Dan is going to move his float house over from the fish camp and look after things. Dan seems to know everyone we’re ever heard of around these parts. Hey Will, we found a “local”! They invited us in for prawns, and we promised to frequent their restaurant when they set it up.

You can see the wharfinger dog doing his rounds. They came down to say goodby as we left.

Right now we have this feeling of life coming back to the central coast. We enjoyed meeting Chris and Chris, who are restoring the 100 year-old tug Swan in Billy’s cove. They have gotten involved in the Egmont community and plan to live aboard Swan. We saw the guy on Gospak who helped us right La Sonrisa when she fell over on the tidal grid at Port McNeil a few years ago. He was tied to a string of float shacks, building a new one. And hermit Ed of Nameless Bay had a float shack and former kayak camp float tied up in his cove. Feels like people are finding new energy.