For me the first sign of true summer arriving around here isn't the deceptive burst of hot weather we get in May. Rather it is the first song of the Swainson's Thrush, and this year I heard that call today for the first time.

Aine and I were down at Deep Bay (or Mannion Bay it was known in the past) during a super low tide today (1.2 feet) and we saw a number of interesting things. Of course, we recorded a podcast for you so if you find yourself at the beach, have a look for the things we found.

In no particular order we saw:

• A chiton
• Japanese and native oysters
• Herons, Glaucous-winged gulls, mallard ducks, crows, Canada geese and a family of common mergansers
• A closed green sea anemone
• The cockle pictured above
  

We also talked about seeing ghost shrimp and gunnels which are eveident if you search around the foreshore in front of the CNIB camp on Snug Point.


Deep Bay walk podcast

Says in the news that the chinook are starting to show up off the south shore of the island, just as the salmonberries ripen. This is when the old people say that the fish begin to return and so they are here right on schedule.

But I wasn't out fishing today. Today I was playing at Watson and Bell, in a scene reminiscent of the first telephone call. I was present at the birth of Radio Bowen.

Seems David Chamberlain, tinkerer, record collector and radio fan, got it in his head that he would start up a radio station on Bowen. Having community radio here has been a dream for people for many years now, but the cost and complexity of getting licensed is overwhelming. Dave on the other hand is undaunted.

With time on his hands and a strong will to get started, he has moved into a space in Artisan Square with the aim of running a bookstore and a small radio station. I visited him there today and heard, gloriously, the first test of the transmitter.

The bookstore is nothing yet: papered over windows and shelves laid out with masking tape on the floor. In the back room, in front of a picture window that looks out over Mount Collins, is a computer, an audio processor and small, 1 micro watt transmitter which falls well within in the standards for an unlicensed radio operation. With no audio compression, and the transmitter operating right out of the box, Dave was playing Louis Prima on the computer and transmitting a perfectly clear mono FM signal not 20 feet to an old radio in the bookstore part of the space. To the untrained eye, it was nothing, not even the range of the wireless router I am using to compose this post. But to a radio fan like me, it was like watching a child being born - a glorious, stunning achievement that means much.

Dave is broadcasting on 88.5mHz on the FM dial and as I drove by the outside of the shop, I couldn't get the signal. But with some good compression and a higher mount for the transmitter, he hopes that the Cove will be in range and that's about 1km away. But of course, in this day in age, the hope for real broadcasting will lie on the internet, so get ready for a streaming feed as soon as he can get the server set up and some programming in place. I've already suggested to him that we broadcast Evensong and the Irish music session at The Snug. It would be great to do the kitchen junket too and live broadcasts from the Bowen Island Fastpitch League. And how about Bowfest and concerts and lectures and the affordable housing forum...and that's before we even put mind to regular programming of local music, classic jazz and homemade radio plays.

Having worked in community radio for years in Peterborough, I can say that there is nothing like having a broadcast outlet for the creativity, inspiration and zaniness that all communities possess. I wish Dave the best of luck with the enterprise, and having been present for the birth of Bowen Radio, I'll be first in line to help stuff the airwaves full of goodness.

The sword ferns are almost finished unfurling their beautiful fiddleheads so Finn and I took a walk down to the Cove this afternoon to see if the salmonberries were ripe yet and we were in for a surprise. There were lots of ripe ones already, having turned golden yellow, orange or ruby red in the sun and heat of the last week. We picked a load and ate them on the fly and managed to save a cup or so which we turned into muffins when we got back home.

So here is a podcast of the first day of the annual salmonberry harvest. For the record we were picking berries in Crippen Park, along the Alder Trail beside the lagoon (centre of this map). The other bushes Finn talks about are along Miller Road west of where we were standing, near the entrance to the park. We have other places to get berries, but we're not telling where!

Anyway, enjoy the podcast.

Finn and Chris harvesting salmonberries (mp3)

My daughter Aine and I recorded a podcast today for your listening pleasure. As part of our Learning Centre program some of the kids, including Aine, help look after the salmon at the Bowen Island Fish Hatchery.

In this podcast we talk about the status of the fish at the hatchery, some rogue coho fry that have escaped to live in the creek and the Coho Bon Voyage event, coming up on June 4th at the hatchery.

I love the fact that our kids have hands on experience with the fish of our ocean. There is nothing to match the learning that comes from working to help make a difference in the world.

Listen to the podcast (mp3)

Last night the kids and I slept out on the porch. The air was incredibly fresh, borne on northwesterly winds that bring it down the coast from the Gulf of Alaska in the wake of the rain we had on Friday. I find these winds to be cleansing and relaxing, even as they blow fiercely down the Strait. Today, with much free time and a rare day on the island, I simply sank into a deeply happy state. It must be infectious, because I took a wrong call on my office phone and the woman at the other end said, out of the blue "well I'm sorry to have bothered you. I've lived on Bowen for 21 years and I love it anew everyday!" I assured her that, despite only five years on the rock, I shared her sentiment.

This morning we awoke to the strong sounds of the dawn chorus and I drove Finn across the island for a play date, stopping at Bowen Bay beach to pick a few smooth black pieces of siltstone and admire the wind and waves. I am dreaming of snorkelling the rock walls there in a couple of months.

The robins are all paired up, and we are beseiged with flocks of mergansers heading north. The flowers on the salal are coming out now and it looks to be a good year for these as well.

We have removed two ungainly and chewed up ornamental cedar trees from our small garden and replaced them with a lilac tree and a previously potted camillia. These two newcomers are surrounded by fence at the moment and it's anyone's guess if they will survive the curiosity of deer. But we are optimists when it comes to planting things. One has to be if one prefers not to garden amid a gulag in this place.

It's all about the traffic today.

The summer season is beginning. With the weather projected to be beautiful this weekend, it seems as if everyone on the continent is coming over to Bowen. The ferry had a huge overload last night, and it seems a little early to start to avoid the Friday afternoon runs, but there you are. Ever proud of my fellow islanders, there was some beefing about how early summer seems to have started, but it was all taken in stride. Seems a lot of people just called ahead to Tuscany and ordered a pizza.

You cannot live on this island with sanity and not grow to appreciate ferry overloads and delays. I actually love them now. There is nothing else to do when you are stuck in one. Fuming at BC Ferries is futile and anyway, you can't blame them if thousands of people choose to take the same boat as you and you show up after it overloads. If we're stuck together in an overload, please don't come to me with tongue clicking and veins popping out of your face. Come shrug your shoulders and we'll share a laugh instead. The best strategy is always to appreciate the delay, take a book or some good music and chill out or visit friends and neighbours. Perhaps the Friday regulars will resume the occasional practice of carrying a bottle or two of wine and some glasses to share with fellow strandees. There is nothing more fun than a friend walking up to your car and splitting a beer with you in the shed in Horseshoe Bay while you wait an hour for the next boat. An hour is also the perfect amount of time to head over to the Troller for a pint of Guinness. Foot passengers only of course!

And also on the traffic note, the gas station has closed I think now for good. This situation has been going on for 18 months now and the landlord finally terminated the lease. There is a nicely clearcut piece of land by the entrance to Artisan Square that was intended for the gas station relocation but something fishy has stopped that whole process. Wish we could have those tress back. Someone should at least let the kids get started on a skaetboard park down there.

Anyway, the owner got what he wanted, which was some allowances to build a little inn at Artisan Square sans fuel pump and the rest of us are stuck without gas which is a huge pain in the ass now that it has finally come to fruition. It's made worse by that fact that, rushing to make the ferry overload, we neglected to fill up tonight and so we have fumes for the weekend, or another trip to town. Can't blame the principals in the dispute for that, but it doesn't seem very community minded all round that they guy with the land is holding up a relocation of the gas station. It would be a sour irony if he ran out of fuel or if the builders working on his project suddenly got stranded. Not that I would wish that on anyone...

The lesson here, especially for newcomers or those of you thinking about moving over here: living on an island is never going to be tailor-made for convienience. So come on over and join the chorus of those of us who learn to cheer ferry mishaps, power outages, cougar sightings, gas station closures and fine arts performances held in gyms. Contribute to the positive vibe of being dependant on many, many outside forces and help make things better anyway. Always look on the bright side of life: it makes it easier for everyone.

And anyway, the first time you sight a killer whale off Tunstall Bay, you'll forget everything you thought you should be mad at.

The salmonberries are loaded with blossoms and the huckleberries look loaded as well. It appears as if a good berry spring is in the offing, similar to last year's. Last year the thimble berries didn't fare as well, so we'll keep an eye on them.

With this new life springing out, comes news of the death of Gordie Begg, the appliance man. As only a small community can, he is being remembered with lovely stories of his service, kindness and humour at Bowen Online. Gord was all that and more. The flag at the Cenotaph is at half-mast as he was an active Legion member and volunteer fire fighter. But he was mostly a big warm guy who, as some have said, did well with dogs and small children watching him work. My kids always peppered him with questions when he came by to fix our stuff and he let them hang out with him and watch and never shooed them away or said an unkind word. That is a lovely legacy to leave in the world.

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