The Stories That Brought You Here - Pender Island

01/10/2025

"It was March 1982, and I was a single dad living in Abbotsford with two teenagers. I had a girlfriend at the time who was friends with the owners of Corbett House, which was a bed and breakfast. She was staying there, and she phoned me up and said, ‘why don't you come over to Pender for the weekend?’ I took the ferry over and got there at night. When I woke up in the morning, I looked out the window and thought, 'I'm home’. I could see from the window there was a house not far away. It had a 'For Sale' sign on it, and I said, ‘boy, that’s for sale.’ It turned out that the lady who ran the B&B was a real estate agent as well. So, I put an offer in on that house that day. But the gentleman who owned it was having health issues, so the family did not want to entertain any offers. The real estate agent had the bit in her teeth now, so she started showing me other places. One was on Hooson Road, I put an offer on it, and it was accepted. Then I go back to Abbotsford and I think, 'I'm crazy. I work in Steveston, and I'm buying a house on Pender Island? I can't afford it.' So, I phone the agent and said ‘no, I can't do this. It's crazy.’ She asks, ‘how much can you pay a month?’ I told her, $600. At that time, interest rates were 18%. She said, ‘I'll get back to you in five minutes’. She calls back and says the vendor would carry it at 8% and that’ll make my payments $594 or something like that. So, I went for it. I had to commute back to Steveston every day for two years on the ferry. My principal residence became the ferry pretty much.

In Abbotsford, we had a little place in the country quite close to the airport, and every time I drove on our road, I’d see more stakes in the ground. The city was growing out of control, basically, and it's certainly the case now. When I moved there in the early 70s, it was a very rural community, very safe and quiet, and that was disappearing fast. Also, one of the reasons that I like Pender Island so much is that I'd spent several years, in the 60s, in New Zealand and missed that country hugely. I felt that Pender Island was getting pretty close to the lifestyle that I'd really appreciated in New Zealand. And you know, it's beautiful here, and rural and safe. Lots of good things about it.”

-Karl Hamson

To hear more stories about what brought Karl here - https://thestoriesthatbroughtyouhere.podbean.com/e/episode-29-karl-hamson/

Visit myaudiomemoir.com to find out how I can assist you in recording your life story.

23/09/2025

“As a teenager, I didn't really drink and didn't party a lot. I did a lot of weaving and a lot of sewing, those kinds of crafty things. Our family went to church, and I was part of a youth group there. It was interesting because when I was about 15, I went to a workshop through the church. There was a psychiatrist who was involved with our church, and sensitivity training was the big, ‘in thing’ at the time in the psychological world. He opened this training up to different church members from all over the Lower Mainland, and I was selected to go along with another person from our young people's group. I was the youngest one there. The first night, I remember he gave us a couple questions, they were, ‘What do we most want?' and 'What do we most fear?’. We were supposed to write down our answers, then go around to everyone in the room and share what we had written. What I learned was—what people most wanted is to be loved or accepted. And what people most fear is to be left out. That was mind-blowing for my teenage self, and it would go on to shape the way I think. It was quite a powerful experience to realize that even these people who were 75 years old; their biggest concerns, were the same as my biggest concern. We did all these other exercises that weekend, and the friend I was there with, we came home and immediately introduced this to our young people's group. I think that had a big influence on my life. It made me understand that whoever I was interacting with, the bottom line was—they feared being left out, and being loved was what they desired. In evaluating my interactions with other people, that was always there. Those things were the was most important. It kept things in perspective for me. I wasn't drawn into partying, for instance, because it didn't improve the connection with people in a certain way, it didn't make a deeper connection. It was a more superficial one. I was always looking for places where there was more chance to connect and more chance to understand people at a deeper level.”

-Shelley Easthope

To hear more stories about what brought Shelley here, https://thestoriesthatbroughtyouhere.podbean.com/e/episode-2-shelley-easthope/

Visit myaudiomemoir.com to find out how I can assist you in recording your life story.

18/09/2025

New podcast episode time! This one is with Barry Mathias.

Barry and his wife, Clare moved from England to Canada while in their late forties. They first settled in Victoria, but found some challenges adjusting to aspects of this new change. After a few years, they relocated to Pender Island and soon launched the island’s first bookstore, Talisman Books & Gallery. It would become a local hub for readers, artists, and visitors interested in literature and the arts.

Barry will share some stories from these times. As well, describe how he became involved with the Solstice Theatre, through acting and directing. He will also discuss his role in establishing car stops on Pender Island, an initiative that improved accessibility and transportation options for residents by creating designated spots for safe and convenient ride-sharing.

Now based in Sidney with Clare, Barry reflects on their years on Pender. He recalls how their contributions—through Talisman Books, theatre, and community initiatives—helped shape the vibrant island community they came to love.

Barry and his wife, Clare moved from England to Canada while in their late forties. They first settled in Victoria, but found some challenges adjusting to aspects of this new change. After a few years, they relocated to Pender Island and soon launched the island’s first bookstore, Talisman Books &...

15/09/2025

"Well, I was lucky enough that my parents had a vision back when I was a wee chap. In 1978, my great-grandfather, Bob Bugg, moved to Pender. My dad came out to help him build a little house, and I think he just fell in love with the island as soon as he got here. We were living up in Parksville, and my folks just decided they were going to take a chance and try something different. I remember coming in 1981, in a moving truck with my dad and my great-grandfather, listening to them tell stories, driving down the highway. I was always a quiet kid, but I listened very intently, and I was also a little bit of a wild one. My parents thought I was an angel, but I think I was also a little mischievous. I don't remember this, but great-grandfather Bugg, we called him Pappy, he told me the story, that the first day on Pender after moving here, I apparently got up bright and early, I go into the kitchen and I stand up on this little chair and I look at him and I say, ‘Jesus, grandpa, it's a pretty goddamn nice day out here!’ I think I was 7. Obviously, he looked at me, and my mom looked at me, and that was the last time I was allowed to ride in the moving truck with my dad and my great grandpa at the same time. He was a pretty big influence in my life, because my parents were working full time from the time we got here, just trying to make a living. I remember, when I was 8 or 9 learning how to golf with him. He would take me out on the weekends, teaching me how to golf and sort of teaching me the hard knocks, because he was a pretty tough guy. He grew up in in in the early 30s, and he didn't have a lot of patience. So I had to learn to respect his rules and respect the other people around us. There was no tolerance for bad behaviour around Pappy, which was nice. I didn’t think about it at the time, I just thought that he was really tough and sometimes really grumpy. But I think about it now, and he taught me about being respectful to older people and just being considerate of the people that are around you, you know? I think the main thing was that he just made me smile, that he always had a sparkle for a life. He was very adventurous and a hunter-gatherer, that's the way he grew up. When you survive the early 30s, and you are struggling to just live and feed your family, you utilize everything. He grew his own food. During the wintertime, he stored his food and made preserves. He always lived off the land. And that was pretty interesting to watch growing up. He’d kill one deer every year. He dressed it, hung it in his garage, and ate every part of it. And it’s just one of those things, I think we take for granted our food sources now. And he never did, which was a really good lesson growing up. He used to take us fishing every Friday as well, and we'd go out in a rowboat and catch a few rockcod and go back to his place, and we'd have fish and chips Fridays pretty much twice a month, all throughout my upbringing. Again, it was all about eating what you catch. You know? He never bought a loaf of bread in all the years that he lived on Pender, he baked his own and always had four or five loaves in the freezer. Just an incredibly resilient guy and lived to be in his late 90s. And yeah, some of his words were pretty crass and cantankerous, but his words, when he had them, were often words of wisdom that weren't maybe often politically correct. But we always knew they were well intended, and that he meant what he said. And that was one thing that I learned growing up with someone like that is, that you don't take things for granted, and you definitely say what you mean. If it's how you feel, you communicate it, and then people can react to it in their own way. He wouldn't win any popularity contests as he got older in life, but we always respected him for that."

-Sam Boyte

To hear more stories about what brought Sam here, check out the full podcast episode - https://thestoriesthatbroughtyouhere.podbean.com/e/episode-25-sam-boyte/

Visit myaudiomemoir.com to find out how I can assist you in recording your life story.

09/09/2025

"When I started working at Hospice, I was doing all palliative care then. I did that for 10 years before I retired from the city of Victoria, and became the community care nurse on Mayne Island, and then, on Pender Island. As the community care nurse, a significant part of it involved home visits with people who had a palliative diagnosis. That was the piece I enjoyed the most, I call it—heart work. It might have been the most draining, but it was the most rewarding part of the work; just being with people and their families in that place. I think as time went on, I just got to be better at being with people. Any home care nursing is going into somebody's home, into their space. It's not the hospital, you're not in control. They can tell you to go at any time. So you have to go in and just see where everyone is at. That’s the thing I liked to teach other people when they were starting, they’d ask, ‘well, how do you go into somebody's home?’ I've seen people go in and try and, you know, change things, and tell people what to do. You can't do that in people's homes. They’re not going to tolerate that. I think especially if somebody is at home with a palliative diagnosis, you have to meet them wherever they're at. They might not need you. You might have a visit, and then they may say, ‘thank you for coming. We appreciate the information, and we'll call you if we need you,’ and that's fine. Or you could have people that need you a lot, and everything in-between. So, I think you just have to have a sense of what it feels like. You can tell by the energy when you walk into a home. Some people are in a place, where they do really want you to be there. I think it’s the best work just looking after people at home because you walk in, and you can get that sense of them without asking any questions. You know, just from a nonverbal that they're showing, or from the home itself. Whether it's their art or just their whole place. I think that's why I loved it so much, because you could just be with people in their own environment and to help them stay there if that's what they choose. Not everybody chooses, of course, to die at home for many reasons. But if you could, and that's what they wanted to do, and you were part of that, it was a gift. I get bit choked up talking about this, because I looked after a lot of people over the years. And sometimes it was friends, that was really hard. Because most people who know me, know my heart is usually on my sleeve anyway. People used to say, ‘Well, you know, you have to harden up a little bit and just don't take yourself in there.’ But I am who I am, and if I cry with them, I cry with them. Or, if I laugh with them, I'll laugh with them. That's what it's going to be. I have to do that. And if it's a friend, you can't leave yourself at the door. That was probably the hardest, especially on Mayne Island, because I was the only nurse there for a while, and I didn't have a choice of handing it off to somebody else. On Pender, it was a little different, because I had a colleague. But if they were on their days off, and I had to go, then, you just have to do it and fall apart afterwards. When you left, I mean, completely fall apart. You know, not just crying, but taking some breaths, going to the beach, and swim. Thank goodness we have that, because that helped me carry on."

-Carolyn Cartwright-Owers

To hear more stories about what brought Carolyn here - https://thestoriesthatbroughtyouhere.podbean.com/e/episode-66-carolyn-cartwright-owers/

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03/09/2025

I keep hearing from people, that as the host of this podcast, they would like to know more of my story. Here's something I wrote the other day, remembering something from long ago.

While cleaning up under my desk today, I came across a handbill from my first fringe show in 2011. At that time, I had zero theatre experience. I had taken drama class in grade 8, but that was it. While working at a fire lookout tower in Alberta the previous summer, I found myself with a lot of spare time. There, while living in complete isolation and looking for things to do, I began to write. One of the many things I wrote, was about 40 satirical sketches. That fall and winter, while living on Pender, I had a chance to try a few of them out at our local Speakeasy. The reception was good. So, I threw my name into a few Fringe festival lottery draws to see if I could get in. My name was pulled for the Victoria fringe. I was in! That spring, I went back to my lookout tower in early April, took the best ten sketches, and started practicing a full 60-minute routine. I performed to the trees, and the walls of my cabin many times. After four months of isolation and practice, I drove to Edmonton, caught a flight to Victoria and performed my first ever fringe show the next day. I was the last show to open festival, as well, a name no one had seen before. On the strength of that, I was able to pull in about 25 curious people to my show that evening. It went off amazingly. I couldn't believe it! I totally nailed all my sketches, despite some technical glitches and movements in the crowd. At the end of that first performance, I had this really sincere moment on stage and briefly explained to the audience what I had gone through to get there. I thanked them for showing up, and giving me their time and attention. What I said was totally unrehearsed and from the heart. I was on the highest of highs and totally proud of myself. A couple of days later, I opened my laptop in the morning, and with great anticipation read the review of my show. It began with, "Three people escaped halfway through the show, and I wish I was one of them." The review seemed to only get worse, "acting that could pass in community theatre, but not a professional theatre festival." I was absolutely devastated. Full meltdown mode. I was on the phone with Geneva, my wife, who couldn't make it out to Victoria, and was currently in her own fire lookout tower back in Alberta. We talked for about 90 minutes. I was absolutely spinning. She talked me down a bit, but I was so deeply embarrassed. I had four more shows to go, and it was all I could do, to try to muster up the little confidence I had and go back out there. I tried to focus on getting better and being grateful for the opportunity. My second to last show, I had three people in the audience. My Mom, my sister and a person I had given a free ticket to. I laughed so hard at the absurdity of the situation, and then went out there and gave it my all. It was such a relief when it was all over. Back in Alberta a week later, I was finally able to read the review again. Something I wasn't able to take in the first time, was at the end of it, the reviewer said, "After the performance was over, Wakaluk spoke to the audience and gave us quite possibly the most authentic moment I have ever seen on stage." The only good thing he had to say about the show, was when it was over. Hilarious. But also, he pointed out that what I said during that time really resonated. So, I threw out the whole idea of performing satire, and wrote a new show that focused on honesty, philosophy, and vulnerability. I performed the following year at the Vancouver Fringe Festival, in a coffee roasters as a venue. My dressing room was outside, beside a dumpster. Humbling. Slightly larger audiences this time, and after every performance, at least one person would come up to me and tell me they were touched by the things I said. That felt really nice.

- Chris Wakaluk

Shout out to the fantastic Luke Ramsey for the great drawing he made for this handbill.

27/08/2025

“It was 1968, and I was just out of high school. One day our neighbour, Donald comes over to the family house in Richmond to tell us he just bought a piece of land. It was on this place called Pender Island. He invited me to go over with him to look at it because he wanted me to build a cabin for him there. So, Donald and I go in his old vanguard car, this bumping little thing. We got onto the Queen of the Islands ferry from Tsawwassen, and came over to Pender. We got off the boat, and found our way into Magic Lake Estates. He showed me his lot and explained to me how reasonable it was. At the time, he paid about $1800 for it. By the time we got home, I thought, ‘gee, that would be interesting.’ You know, I'm just out of high school. I could maybe buy myself a lot. The island was all treed and beautiful. And so, I talked to my friend Tom, who was working up in the oil patch, making good money, he was making $2.20 an hour up there. My earning power was about a buck an hour. We decided that we should both come over here and look for a piece of land. We found out that you could actually get a free float plane ride if you were coming to look at property. You just went to the airport, walked up and said ‘I want to go look at land on Pender Island,’ and then get on this plane. We flew into Browning Harbour, it was the fall, there was not much there. There was a restaurant, but it looked shut down for the season. A man met us at the float plane, we got in this jeep, and drove up a very bumpy gravel road. None of it was paved, it was all washboards. The sales office was located kitty corner from where the fire hall is now—the entrance to Magic Lake. We walked in there and there was this young fellow all dressed up in nice clothes, and he said, ‘you guys are just in time.’ And we said, ‘what's the matter?’ He said, ‘there's two lots left.’ And we said, ‘oh, two lots?' And he said, ‘yeah, two lots left.’ And I mean, we're looking at this map, there's twelve hundred lots in this subdivision, it’s 1968. The guy took one look at us, and he knew he had a couple of suckers. So we jumped in his Jeep and off we went. We looked at some ugly lot somewhere down in the ravine. Then he took us around by Buck Lake, and up the sewer easement to get to Port Rd., right up to the top of it, and we look around, and he says, ‘all this can be yours.’ And I said, ‘well my goodness. Look at the view.’ And because I worked a summer job on a survey crew, I knew enough to ask him where the actual property lines were. ‘Oh?’ he says. ‘Come on back down the road.’ So, we went back down Port Rd. aways, and we're still looking at the view. We walk further down, further down, now finally he says, ‘there you go!’ So, we looked out towards the ocean, he says, ‘no, no, no behind you.’ And the property line was down over the edge, and he says, ‘you know, with a three-story building you might get an ocean view.’ So we bought the lot. It wasn't bad, $1900 bucks, and it cost me $35 a month for three years to pay that off, which was a struggle at the time. I was hard-pressed to make those payments, but, it got me here.”

-Brent Marsden

To hear more stories of what brought Brent here - https://thestoriesthatbroughtyouhere.podbean.com/e/episode-14-brent-marsden/

Visit myaudiomemoir.com to find out how I can assist you in recording your life story.

22/08/2025

"I fell in love with the islands. I discovered that on the most northern part of Vancouver Island. When I was in my early 20s, I lived in a school bus in Port Hardy, right on the water. The high tide washed against the wheels of our bus. It had skylights, bay windows and never was finished. We lived in an unfinished, beautiful state. I fell in love with living on the ocean there. We’d turn on the headlights and watch the plankton make glimmering lights, phosphorescence. They would flicker in the ocean and make these dazzling colours. Soon after that, I made another trip, this time to Lopez Island, in the American San Juans. My friend, Josie took us to this most beautiful spot, a state park I believe. It was on a very high cliff, overlooking the ocean, and it just took my breath away. And then a short time later, I got a call from my brother Chris, and he said, ‘guess what?’ And he told me, ‘I fell in love. I fell in love with Pender Island. I just bought 10 acres, and it's just like that land on Lopez.’ When I came to see it, it was so beautiful—south facing, oceanfront, with arbutus and moss, and a cliff. So, I followed my brother to Pender. I was 27 and was able to come almost every weekend, and more than that, actually. I usually came for 3 or 4 months a year. I had a lovely job that afforded me an opportunity to work at home a lot. So, I came with the plan of building a cabin on the property. On the 10 acres Chris had, at the end of the road, where there was sort of a cul-de-sac, and I found out years later it was a legal easement for the guy next door. Luckily, he decided not to make a big issue of it, which was very lovely because he could have driven right through the thing we built. My friend Rob helped me build a shed that I was going to sleep in while I worked on my cabin. There was no power up there, we only had a hand saw; so we kept the lengths, it seemed easier. So this silly thing was over twelve feet high, because that's how long the 2x4’s were. And it was really small, you could hardly lie down on the floor of it. It wasn't more than 8x10, it was a bit odd looking. And then, we started building my cabin, and that's a story.”

To hear more about what brought Jule here - https://thestoriesthatbroughtyouhere.podbean.com/e/episode-9-jule-roper/

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15/08/2025

"I grew up pretty sheltered. I was raised in a Mormon household, and for many people in this faith, if you're a woman, you're going to usually get married at a pretty young age. I knew that was not something that I wanted to commit to, I really wanted to see the world. So, when I was twenty, a girlfriend was going backpacking, and I decided that I wanted to join her. We set out around Europe and Morocco. Eventually, we ran out of money, but we had work visas. We ended up in London and I got an interview as a barkeep. I stayed in London for the next year and a half. The pub that I worked in was so rich in characters that I couldn't stop thinking about them after I returned. There were mafia guys, there were veterans with just such vivid stories of the war, there were these cockney slangs that you'd have to decipher. And me, realizing that there was this whole other perspective and a whole other world that I had never ever seen before. And I loved it, I ate it up. I think that trip gave me a bigger understanding of human beings. Growing up, I had a beautiful, loving family, but when you're 20, going to church every Sunday, and just going to school—you don't have a lot of experiences to draw on. And of course, I didn't really have other friends that weren't of that faith, so just delving into the richer cultures of a big city, and all the hype and the aliveness of that city, it just awoke something in me. And I mean, I didn't really like being in the city. I missed being in nature a lot. But I also recognized that people had beautiful stories and people came from a different way of living. And it was so eye-opening. I think that trip, in later years, ignited the writer in me. Without that trip, the choice to sit down and really try to write a novel, it never would have happened. As much as some of those experience were incredibly challenging at the time, it was the catalyst for developing a new passion. And that’s something that I wouldn't want to live without—being able to write. So that experience, even though it included the alcoholic boyfriend and all the dramas in between, they also made me a tougher person. I had to rely on myself on many occasions, where back home in Canada, I had a support system in place, that no matter what; I could rely on. In London, I couldn't rely on anybody. It was just me over there. I think situations like that informs us a lot when we’re young and helps to shape us into who we become.”

-Sarah Conley

To hear more about the stories that brought Sarah here - https://thestoriesthatbroughtyouhere.podbean.com/e/episode-4-sarah-conley/

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09/08/2025

“One of my greatest hopes, has also been one of my greatest fears. I love the ocean so much, and I also fear it a little bit too. I'm not sure where that comes from, but something I have always wanted, is to see orca whales when I'm kayaking. I've also been totally terrified at the idea, like absolutely terrified. So, whenever I would go out kayaking, I would peek around the corner just to make sure that all is well. Even though my heart really wanted to see the whales, I was like, ‘okay good, not today!’ I think it was probably about seven years ago now, I went out kayaking with a friend, and we were going to circumnavigate North Pender. As I was getting ready for the trip, I just said this little prayer, I said, ‘okay, if I could be safe, and if I could let go and enjoy it, maybe today is the day I could see whales. I could actually be in the water, in my kayak, OK?’ Then out the door I went. We launched from the beach and started heading out towards Thieves Bay with lots of anticipation. It was really exciting and beautiful. We came around the corner, past Boat Nook, got on the edge of Oak Bluffs and sure enough, there's all the whale boats. Which sadly, is a sign that the whales are close by. They were thankfully quite a ways off. But, where we were, we were snuggled up against the cliffs with very deep water below us. And then, we were looking down towards the south, and—the whales were coming. I was thinking about scrambling up the cliff just so that I could save myself, but I remembered, I asked for this. This is what I wanted so, ‘just stay, stay still, it’s going to be OK.’ I told myself. And my friend was quite a ways ahead of me, and, the whales were coming. And I could see her, and she handled it with grace. And then—the whales came. And the whales came! I was shaking like a leaf, because they were right underneath, beside me, in front of me, behind me, spy hopping. It was the most extraordinary wilderness experience I think I've ever had, and I was crying, because I just felt, that awe. Just like looking at the starry sky on George Hill, you know. These whales are always in our waters in the Salish Sea, and our ability and the gift that we have to be witness to them is pretty astonishing. I felt so small in that little red kayak, and alone. But not. And that's sort of how I feel on Pender. My aloneness, the intimacy of wanting to be by myself a lot. I also don't feel alone. I'm not alone in my aloneness, because I have these incredible community members who walk with me. It's awesome."

-Nia Williams

To hear more of the stories that brought Nia here - https://thestoriesthatbroughtyouhere.podbean.com/e/episode-6-nia-williams/

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