Sailor's delight

Sunsets at the dock are one of the reasons I love coming back to Hornby Island. Ah, those red skies at night!

Our own moonwalk

Not really, but some of the landscape on the rocky shores of Hornby Island can appear a bit moonlike. The volcanic action (combined with seawater) that formed this island has left so many interesting shapes. The rocks in the photo below look (at least to me) like nets draped to dry.


Whether I'm walking the shoreline, sleeping in the tent, or wading in the ocean while I take pictures of seaweed, this is the best -- at last, holidays!

Billy Little, 1943-2009

If I'd been able to be on Hornby Island today, I would have been attending a memorial for Billy Little, a one-of-a-kind poet.

No one can deny it -- he lived an eccentric life, one guided by the Muse. He was opposed to war and other military actions and spoke against them with great conviction.

Although he published numerous chapbooks, the only book I know he left us is St. Ink: Selected Poems, published by Capilano University Editions.

Whenever I was on Hornby, I'd run into Billy somewhere -- sometimes at the bookstore, often at the recycling depot, but most usually in amongst folks gathered at the outdoor market. Sadly, like Billy, the market no longer exists, though this photo of it does.


As my friend Lesley reminded me, Billy wore wonderful hats. One of her favourites was a hat that looked like a toucan. Who else but Billy could get away with such gear!

He lived as a poet, down to the final crossed T. And I can only say good on him for outlasting all the medical system's predictions and making it to 2009.

Piper on the wharf

What a time to be stuck without a camera! We're out on the dock at sunset, and a man approaches, walking down the pier, carrying a small suitcase. He opens the case and starts pulling out various pipes and connectors. We start chattting and he explains more than I ever knew about bagpipes and how they work. There's still some light in the sky, and looking out over the sailboats moored at the marina, I'm thinking about my friend, Jackie, who died of a heart attack so recently. And then, those magical pipes begin. Oh Jackie, you'd have loved this night, camera or no.

Hornby Island, and it's spring

What a great place to have spent the Vernal Equinox. Everything is alive with green. Grape hyacinth, bluebells, and even wild daffodils are scattered throughout the forest in the most surprising spots.

Looking out onto the field, I'm lucky enough to get a click at the perfect baby lamb, newly arrived to greet the season.

On Hornby time

Again. We're lucky enough to make this visit almost every year. As you can see from the shot of the pasture, we get to pitch our tent in a pretty idyllic spot. Not a bad view, eh.

This year, I spent waaay too much of my Hornby time reading -- what else, the last installment of Harry Potter.

Hornby Island's a place where even I like to shop. This is saying a lot because I'm a person who usually hates shopping. My favourite store there? The one at the Recycling Depot, where they have a whole lot of everything. And the price is definitely right -- all of it's free.

Of course, there's more to a stay on Hornby than just reading and shopping. No day would be complete without a stroll down to Ford Cove for one of those patented West Coast sunsets.