LASQUETI ISLAND
I grew up in the quiet surrender of Lasqueti, a small island off the coast of British Columbia, where time is only measured by the coming and going of the tide. Lasqueti is home primarily to fisherman and hippies, but over the years it has attracted poets, artists, physicists, farmers, authors, engineers - all seeking the solace that this island offers.
There is no real infrastructure on the island. Everything that requires power is run off solar panels or generators. There is 50 yards of pavement directly off the wharf, and after that the roads are dirt. Toilets are composting. All trash has to be packed off the island the same way you came. It’s a logistical nightmare to get a vehicle over to Lasqueti, involving private barges and lots of money. So most just come on foot. The main way back and forth is an hour trip on the Centurion VII - a rugged aluminum ocean boat that cuts through the choppy water three times a day, except for Tuesdays (and Wednesdays in the winter). Most folks that live here have a few spare vehicles, collected over the years, lying around their properties, but it's just as fine to walk or ride a bike wherever you need to go.
My great uncle was a commercial fisherman, and set up shop on Lasqueti long ago, and built a cabin to house family and friends. And so I got to spend a week of my childhood summers here, running barefoot through tall grass, catching fish off the dock with a line with a hook and a worm tied to a stick of wood, and bouncing around in the box of the pickup truck with my cousins. That truck was seemingly born on the island - you could tell it had the luxury of never knowing what a traffic light was all about, or even the inconvenience of the word STOP hung over a piece of tin.
I hadn’t been able to make it over to Lasqueti in many years - my job of the last decade with BC Wildfire didn’t allow me much time to take planned vacations in the summer months. I now live in Vancouver, and this was the first year I was able to set aside some time to make it over. Because of scheduling, both personally and with the Lasqueti ferry, I had less than 24 hours from leaving my door in the city to when I had to be back. But I knew it would be worth it to walk on the island that had been such a magnificent piece of my childhood.
This was also the first time in 72 years that my grandfather, who knows this island better than most, was not able to make the journey. Time and gravity are constantly at war with him, and the many boats and trucks and docks required to get here are now far too tricky for him. But his eyes are still good. And so, armed with my backpack and my camera, I decided to document the journey and do my best to capture this place, and its serenity, in the short time I had.
This film is, first, for my grandpa, who taught me everything I needed to know about operating in a place that does not have the amenities we are all so accustomed to. He gave me my first knife here, when I was about six. I had found it in an old tackle box and presented to him, as he was the keeper of all things dangerous and manly. He inspected it, turned it over, and then handed it back and told me it was mine so that I could sharpen sticks and cut fishing line and generally be more useful than I previously was.
This video is, second, for my family and extended family, who have known this island and have been there to help me understand and appreciate the simple beauty of everything.
And lastly, this video is for everyone that has ever been, or never been, to Lasqueti. I hope this film can transport you, wherever you are, to this magic place for a short visit, and perhaps prompt you at some point in your life to make the journey back to wherever your piece of heaven is.
Adam