Tahsis

We've agreed that Tahsis is just a little spooky. And we mean that in the nicest possible way. People are cheerful, friendly, and helpful... the fuel dock attendant practically sprinted around the floats to get to our assigned location to help us tie up. The marina has free wireless Internet, showers, laundry, a fine Mexican-ish restaurant, and even a free loaner courtesy car mitigating the not unreasonable hike between there and town. The water is good... “Extravagant Creek” is the name of the stream that the local water supply comes from, and as it implies, it has no shortage of fresh, clear water. The local supermarket, while nothing to compete with the average run-down Safeway back home, isn't bad as far as small town, infrequently resupplied shops go. And the scenery is beautiful, par for the course in this part of the world.

But still... the water coming up the inlet has a freaky reddish-brown tinge to it and an odd, unwordly smell. It burbles when splashed. The waterfront is dominated by the empty, overgrown slabs and piers of the defunct local sawmill, eerily huge and unoccupied. Buildings along the road into town sit empty, broken-windowed, their former uses only hinted at by form and cryptic signage. For the brief period that we were there, the town was shrouded by clouds, closed in by the green walls of mountains and a gray roof overhead. A guidebook author says he had a friend who moved there who claimed never to have seen the sun during his first ten months there. It's a Twin Peaks sort of place. If anyone offered me a piece of cherry pie and the best cup of joe I ever had in my life, I'd run away screaming.

Tahsis is mostly filled with sport fishermen and their support system, which may explain some of the slightly disconcerting feelings we got. The rhythms are different than they are for cruisers. Sport fishing is hard work. I can't believe people spend their vacations getting up at 0500 for an hour-long ride in a noisy, open powerboat to go sit stationary in rolling swells all day, watching their lines trail fruitlessly aft, only to come back in at sunset and have to wait in line to fuel up the boat again. We went to the marina restaurant at what we thought we be high-time for dinner, 1830, only to find we had the place to ourselves... no one else was back in yet. They come in late, crash, and get up to do it again the next morning.

Some of the fish they come back with are impressive, of course, but I am not a fish guy so that doesn't appeal to me all that much. Anyway, I'm sure it's fun for them (there are people who have trouble believing that we enjoy getting out in 25 knot winds and crashing through those same swells; to each his own) but it's all just a little bit different from what we're used to. Maybe that explains Tahsis in a nutshell. It's small, charming, friendly, and we fully expected to be murdered in our sleep or abducted by vampires.

Maybe it's the history of the place. Tahsis was the summer home of Chief Maquinna, the Nootka chief who figures so prominently in the early European histories of the place. Vancouver and Quadra negotiated the terms of the Nootka Convention here in 1792, and this is where the whole island was given it's name: The Island of Quadra and Vancouver. “Vancouver Island” is just proof that the winners (and people who dislike extra typing) are the ones who write the history books. Anyway, that's a lot of historical weight for such a small place and maybe there are resonances down through the ages that make first-time visitors nervous... as if there is some expectation that we contribute meaningfully to global history from here during our stay. Since we barely remember to fill our water tanks before going, that's a pretty tall order.

Feelings of historical inadequacy aside, we quite enjoyed our stay and will definitely be back if we pass this way again. Mandy is already hankering for another of the marina coffe shop mochas and I wouldn't mind kicking back on the floating patio near the fire and listening in on fishing stories for a while.

As a blessing of sorts, as we pulled out and headed south down the inlet toward the ocean, the clouds parted and sun graced the village.