It’s been over 60 years since the last crossing between West Van’s Dundarave pier and the Vancouver Wharf, yet its memory and talk of its resurrection live on. In fact, it’s always been a bit of a surprise and disappointment to me that there aren’t more boat transportation options in a city with so many waterways. Is the demand just not there? Would operating costs be too high?
1920s, West Vancouver Ferry crossing the Burrard Inlet, Archives Item#: SGN 1123
Before the Lion’s Gate Bridge there was a ferry linking Vancouver’s Downtown with West Vancouver’s Ambleside neighbourhood. And at one time ferries bound for Vancouver Island serviced both false creek and the downtown core. The rise of the car and the parallel construction of the city’s major inner-city bridges spelled the end of these busy, working ferries. Check out this great post by Miss 604 describing the evolution of West Vancouver’s storied ferry service which ended with the Lions Gate ribbon cutting in 1947.
As recently as 2010, West Van did a 6 month trial run of the old service to downtown which it then abruptly cancelled. I can’t seem to find out why, but it wasn’t due to lack of demand from Vancouverites as far as I can tell. I wonder how West Enders and Yaletowners would respond to a ferry service between their neighbourhoods and the North Shore. Pretty well, I would think, particularly when these are communities with below average per capita car ownership.
Am I just dreaming that inner city ferries could even survive given our dependence on four-wheeled traffic and bridges? What would it take to bring some of these old ferry services back on line?
There is nothing – absolutely nothing – half so much worth doing as simply messing about in boats.
Rat, Wind in the Willows
B.C.'s Desolation Sound
I’m the first to admit that my yachting days a still a ways off, so in the meantime I’m more than content to mess about in more humble vessels. Vancouver’s False Creek has allowed me to try out rowing, kayaking, dragon boating, outrigger canoeing. I did the latter for a few years, but have since switched to swimming, anything to stay close to water. Love of water has connected me to a great community for whom being connected to the ocean is important. But out of all these activities, it is surfing which stands out for me as the most fun and exhilirating way to get out and play on the water. Unless you live near a good surf break, it’s certainly less accessible than other water sports, but once you try it, you’re hooked. My wife showed me how on an all inclusive vacation to Sayulita, Mexico four years ago and now whenever we go near a beach our surfboards tag along.
My top five reasons why I love surfing:
1) It’s Cheap.
Sure, you have to travel to warm, sunny places for the most part (Tofino and Nova Scotia excluded), but once you’re there it’s really cheap. The closest place to surf from Vancouver is Tofino, half a day’s travel by car. Once you’re there, even if you don’t own a board, you can rent all your stuff, wetsuit included, for about $60 for two days. When I was in Mexico, a nice guy just lent me his board. In Hawaii, I’d rent for 10 dollars from the kid on the beach. So, until I getting my pimped out 40-footer (probably named after a Greek Goddess, like Penelope or Thetis ) I’m content with a rental board and a wave.
Local B.C. surfer Pete Devries
2) Connection to Place.
It’s amazing how just bobbing up and down on the calm sea with the horizon ahead and land behind makes every worry melt away. Feeling the movement of the Ocean, the wind and the warmth of the sun places you firmly in the moment.
3) Exercise.
Ever notice that all surfers are hot with, like, chiseled everything ? No? Well, they are. Always being outside and continuous use of core strength must have something to do it. But I don’t like the exercise out of vanity (which I probably am), but simply because surfing is a an enjoyable physical challenge. Battling the surf to get out far enough to catch a proper wave can leave you out of breath with aching arms. But just conquering that first barrier to make it to open water feels great all on its own.
4) Sucking at it.
I’ve rarely done a sport where being total crap means is actually part of the fun. With surfing, there’s nothing to prove. Even in Hawaii, when I shared a wave with some real hot shots, they would just smile benignly at this pasty, white, gangly Canadian getting tossed incessantly and say, “Narly, man. You’ll get the next one.”
5) Community.
Surfing is at once totally solitary and immensely interactive. Out on the water you’re alone, out of ear shot – even on a crowded break. Still, everyone is aware of their neighbours and respectful of each other’s space and safety. Take turns, watch out for others – all that good stuff happens in surfing. It is a simple code which surfer communities the world over abide by. We could all learn from that.
So there you have it. Until I forsake community altogether for Penelope III, my Super-Yacht with a butler, I’m content to bob about on a board, rarely catching anything, happy as a clam.
What could make this scene better ... than a gigantic casino
I consider myself a reasonably knowledgeable person when it comes to current events – I have a mild addiction to CBC news and have a good ‘ol fashioned love affair with reading good ‘ol fashioned newspapers. Which is why the announcement of a new casino being planned for the False Creek area of Vancouver caught me wayyyy off guard. My mind started running through all the reasons this was clearly a mistake: didn’t Gordon Campbell campaign (way back in the day) on a promise to curb gambling? Isn’t False Creek a burgeoning residential area in great need of schools, community centres, and, well … anything but a 100,000-square-foot monstrosity of a casino? Is this really in line with the aesthetically-conscious urban design plan for Vancouver? Convinced that this was merely an idea – just like the idea a few years back to move the Vancouver Art Gallery into that space – I made a mental note to find out when and where community consultations would be taking place, knowing that there would be a large, engaged group of citizens who would turn out to express their suggestions and concerns.
My confusion grew and frustration blossomed as I scoured news sites later that day to find out how I could become involved in the process. As I read more about the proposed casino, I started taking note of my questions and concerns – if it’s merely replacing the Edgewater casino, why is it 70,000 square feet bigger? With (very valid) concerns about gambling addiction, will this ‘state-of-the-art’ casino implement measures to address this, such as new regulatory technology in Ontario that does not allow self-identified problem gamblers into casinos? With a historical precedent of returning a percentage of gaming revenues back to arts/culture organizations and charities within the community, what benefits will be returned to the city? How much say do our city planners have in the design of the building? With an expressed interest in accelerating construction, will design changes be taken into consideration? If we don’t want it – will it still be constructed?
Sadly, the opportunity to have my questions answered seemed to get more dim as I kept reading: City counsellors have more or less stated that their hands are tied – with the site on provincial land, it is exempt from city zoning. It was also stated quite explicitly that the city is in no position to demand any benefits at all from the development.
Vancouverites should be entitled to have their questions answered, complaints heard, demands made, and wants taken under serious consideration. Our city is young, growing, and still in the process of defining itself – if we adamantly feel that this new casino is not a good ‘fit’ for our city, or have valid concerns about the size, location, design, or revenue distribution, we have the right to have our voices authentically heard. I do hope that community consultations do come to fruition, and they are more than just a tokenistic attempt to appease the masses – and hey, if they do, I hope to see you there.
