Stage Four - to Sointula

The morning sun was blazing its way through our window early and we sipped tea on the balcony drinking in the heat, suspecting that we might not have quite the same weather in the next few days in the north.

We had a last walk on the beach, paddling through small channels of warm water that wove past moundds of sand alive with small crabs, whelks, clams, tiny fish and sand dollars, live ones like black suede on the dark sand.  They lay like heaps of ebony coins at the furtherest edge of the sea.

The car got gassed up in Courtney (gas is considerably cheaper on the island than in Vancouver) and we stopped for lunch in Campbell River.  Dick's on the dock more than satisfied that annual need I have for fish and chips.  

We stopped off to have a peek at Sybil Andrews' house, but found it closed and locked.

Sybil Andrews has long been one of our favourite artists.  We first saw her linocuts at an art auction in the early 1990s.  We immediately fell for her sense of colour and movement that reflected the art deco sentiment at the time.  I particularly love her pieces that celebrate work: farmers in the fields, logging trucks on the road.  

Even her Concert Hall looks more like cogs in some kind of machinery.
When we discovered she had been born in Bury St. Edmunds, Suffolk, England, but moved to the coast of BC, we felt even more connection with her, as Martin's parents live in Bury St. Edmunds and we go there pretty well every year.  It would be nice to see her house open as a little museum, but there's just not quite enough interest ahere to make it happen I suppose.  But it was lovely to see the view she must have looked out on when contemplating a new subject.

It got cooler and grayer the further north we drove. A steaming hot chocolate was welcome as we waited for the ferry that would take us from Port McNeill to Sointula on Malcom Island.

The town of Port McNeill was jazzed about the recent NHL Stanley Cup win shared by a hometown boy.  Hockey is never more avidly followed than in Canada's small towns.  And when one of those towns fosters a league star, then it doesn't matter that he plays with an American team.  Being on the winning team means he will get a chance to bring the Cup home, usually to a parade.  The decorations are already up, first in the sporting goods shop of course, and then no doubt in others as his visit draws nearer.  I was hoping we'd get to see Willie Mitchell show off his prize, but it won't be for another few weeks, so we can just enjoy a town that doesn't get much action revel in its moment of glory, reflected though it is.

Gee, I wonder what jersey number Willie Mitchell wears

After a short ferry ride we were in Sointula.  The name Sointula means "Place of Harmony" in Finnish. Yes, that's right - Finnish!

A collection of ideological Finns rowed from Nanaimo (it takes four hours to drive it - imagine how long it would take to row it!) just as the 20th century was dawning. Their dream was to build a Utopia, a society on which to build an agricultural cooperative. Fishing and logging sustained Sointula for decades, but the downturn of those industries that started in the late 1970s hit this little place hard. Although we saw a few very blond children riding their ponies, the population is dropping and the school is emptying. The Sointula Cooperative Store, the oldest co-op store in the province, is still open for buisness, selling seeds, fuel, groceries and other goods. There is also a bakery selling Finnish bread, a small museum and not a whole lot else.

I had never been to Sointula before, although we sometimes came into Mitchell Bay by boat for picnics. We pooled through town in 12 seconds and only registered one blip on the odometer, then headed out to our accomodation at Midden Lane, past Mitchell Bay. The road was gravel and most of it comepletely uninhibited, but as we came into Mitchell Bay we saw more houses and another vehicle. The houses were Finnish styled, with patterned wood shingles.
 

Our room was a suite under the main house, very cute and hobbit-like, very B.C. island-like.  Audrey provides free range eggs (straw still on them), homemade bread in large flat rolls of grain and spelt. Also her homemade wine, a bottle of each. We sat outside with our omelette and toast and wine, and watched light go to dark.

There was mist and rain in the morning. We found breakfast had been left by the fairies, wrapped up and sitting outside our door, still warm.  After a very wet walk down to the beach. we went back for the coffee dregs and to hang out with resident poodles, cat, and two horses.