It’s a simple story really, perhaps the shortest, simplest story of all my paintings. In July of 2011 I took part in the PULLING TOGETHER canoe journey that would see us start in Tofino and finish some ten days later in Port Alberni. The journey was full of weather, drama, fun, excitement and delays, but that’s another story.
One of our legs of travel took us from the small First Nations settlement of Itattsoo near Ucluelet to the equally small community of Toquaht Bay. What should have been a relatively short day of paddling turned into a rather long day of sitting and waiting for rescue. It was decided that we’d take a detour to a beautiful island in the Broken Group archipelago, Benson Island. Sacred to the local native people, it was decided we’d take the hour paddle out, have a visit there and come back.
The west coast ocean tides and winds had other plans. Our fleet of over two hundred people made it to Benson Island all right, but we’d not paddle back that day. We had to be rescued over the next five hours or so, and I was in charge of the logistics. While others were able to relax in the sun on the small, protected beach, or wander the gorgeous little island exploring, I was left to co-ordinate with all the rescue vessels as they came for canoes and people.
Throughout it all though a prominent rock at the north end of the beach kept catching my eye. At its summit was one of those hallmark naturally bonsaied trees that’s omnipresent on the west coast. More than the tree though, that stately rock kept demanding my attention. It was apparent. I’d have to paint that rock. It didn’t take long, a few scrambled steps over the beach and rocks and I had my vantage point. I took a few photographs and returned to my duties.
Back in Gibsons, in December, I painted what would be my last image of 2011. It’s a simple story really, perhaps the shortest, simplest story of all my paintings. I just had to do the painting I now call “The Rock At Benson Island”
