As Read Island is one of the discovery islands at the north end of Georgia Straight and sits central to that group’s southern edge it catches the full brunt of every winter storm. Our house was built with two giant cedar logs three feet in diameter as part of the foundation, these logs then sat above the ground on concrete blocks. With such a foundation the wind could actually get under the house. I can remember going to sleep at night wondering if our house would be lifted off its very foundation. On hearing the wind howling louder and louder as each gust increased in intensity, it felt as if the house would to be literally launched into space as it rocked back and forth.
It is quite a rush to stand on the shore during a vicious storm and not get blown away while watching the waves crash on the beach in such intense fury that it seems everything will be washed away.
One of the biggest storms that I ever remember being in was during a trip home from Campbell River. Many of us from Tanaka’s camp had gone with Forest Lambert and his family to Campbell River to shop. Instead of going around Cape Mudge the southern tip of Quadra Island we had left the Gwen tied up at Hariot Bay and had taken the taxi over to Quathiaski Cove and then jitneyed over to Campbell River.
The excitement began when we left Hariot Bay on the final leg of our journey home. We had barely cleared Rebecca Spit when we knew we were in for a rough ride. I can still feel the old Gwen begin to toss and roll as we turned and headed into a roaring southeaster. For most of the ride home I was huddled in the bow of the boat on a bunk scared to death.
I can still remember the fear in my heart as the boat headed straight into the thirty-foot waves. Finally at the very last second the Gwen would rise just enough to not get buried as it plowed through the waves, sliding down the other side, just in time to make it through the next wave. What a sense of terror and relief as again and again we made it through just in time.
What was even more terrifying was just about rolling over in the trough of a big wave as Forest turned aside to Breton Island to ride out the storm. How happy I felt when at last we made it into calm waters in the lea of the little island and the boat stopped pitching.
It was with a feeling of relief and some impatience that we finally got under way five hours later and were able to make it the rest of the way home.
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