More about the campground, after lots of conversations, thank you! I’m biased. I grew up in the wilderness, camping on remote lakes. Summers, we spent the weekends and some weeks at a particular remote lake. We had a folding camp table, a Coleman stove, a cooler and a tent. The tent lasted until the day a bear shredded it with its claws while we were on the other side of the lake. We had taken the food with us, which naturally annoyed the bear.
The grownups erected a makeshift shelter: a pole tied between two trees with a large sheet of plastic staked down over it like an oversized pup tent. Open on the long ends, tall enough for an adult to stand in. Beds were laid side by side, kids in the middle. That is how the family slept for the rest of the summer. Nobody was mad at the bear. When you go into bear country, they own the place. You are in their living room. You keep your food secure, hope for the best, and adapt as the situation unfolds. I grew up hearing that nature is smarter than people, and that we do best to adapt.
We understood, without needing to be told that people are built to handle a bit of privation, it’s good for us. We walked miles through mosquito and blackfly filled woods carrying heavy loads, adults and children alike (ours were lighter), all to sleep on the ground, live outdoors and catch and forage many of our meals. My family were descended from pioneers. They looked condescendingly down on what they called “civilization.” City folk were tenderfeet. Greenhorns. The coast was Lotus Land. Too easy. Boring.
That is where I am from. I am adaptable, and I do a decent job managing my current level of comfort. I live here because I like air that does not bite, I love the sea and you don’t have to shovel rain. I see nothing wrong with how we did it back then. I miss it. The rewards were priceless: deep and constant immersion in the natural world, a sense of belonging on the ground, on equal terms with wild creatures, facing challenges that were fun and practical.
Hornby Island is wild enough. I’m okay living without bears and blackflies, and mosquitoes are few, a bonus. We have nature without the danger. No large predators, no poisonous anything. Here, humans are the danger. Hornby is being slowly swallowed by the massive internet-fueled monoculture eating the world right now.
I see the same conversation everywhere online. The same opinions dominate, swinging between polarized ends of the same continuum. Nowhere can we live as we choose. We are everywhere managed and controlled. It is a global smoothing over of the collective cerebral cortex. As a species, we are getting dumber, as technology gets smarter.
Society values convenience and expedience over the real wild world. Challenges have narrowed to the realms of intellect and technology. Nature is paved over, extracted and managed to death. Instead of losing ourselves in the woods, we obsess over others’ opinions, posting to socials from the beach. Campgrounds should be safe, clean and tidy as a living room.
To these folks, it makes sense to have it bulldozed, drained, wired and landscaped. It was a mess before, everything higgledy piggledy, trees randomly situated, and so muddy in winter. If we manage things right, one day the whole island can be a park with neat gravel pathways, safely fenced and labeled, especially on all the cliffs for safety, with lights everywhere so nobody has to fear the dark.
Some say those old trees were dangerous, every one of them. It is safer now that they are gone. Others say, oh great, now the winds can howl freely through that new wind tunnel, and in summer there will be nothing to shade the gravel from the hot sun. Better. Safer. Sure.
“It will be so much prettier once it is landscaped, pruned and planted. Those little new trees will provide shade someday. Nobody uses tents anymore, and RVs are air conditioned so who cares if it is hot. Gravel pathways make it cleaner. Less mud. Who lets kids go barefoot nowadays.”
I will never stop resisting that attitude. If the campground needs improving, we should use minimal interventions. Look at how nature works. Model our publicly owned campground on it. Leave trees standing with other trees; their roots and branches support each other. Let sites blend into the forest. Encourage undergrowth. Let trails be packed dirt, perfect for barefoot children to scamper on, or barefoot adults, or barefoot elders. Earthing is a thing. Touching ground helps us all.
Camping is, or should be, an opportunity to touch the ground. If Hornby must be a tourist destination, let it be the most natural version of one. That is our brand, after all. So damn the province for deciding unilaterally what sort of tourism we must attract. Forget the wilderness experience. New visitors are funnelled into RV sites, shoes mandatory because of gravel, everything accessible and wired. Tribune Bay Campground will no longer be a respite from the civilized world, but an extension of it.
I protest. I do not blame the contractors doing their jobs as assigned. I blame the government, the officials, the planners and deciders who did not consult our community and simply do not care.
That is what I think. What do you think? Email me at phoenixonhornby@gmail.com
