I first experienced Ocean Falls, British Columbia in 1976, when I was hired on as a welder by the paper mill, which then belonged to the Government of British Columbia.
The day I flew to Ocean Falls was memorable. I arrived at the Vancouver Airport's South Terminal (YVR) an hour before my flight was to leave. I drank several cups of coffee while I waited.
West Coast Air Otter
Some minutes into the flight left, my bladder began sending me a message which directly related to the coffee mentioned above. More minutes into the flight, my bladder was threatening to explode, so I walked forward and asked someone if there was a toilet on board.
The laughter was deafening - and I found a new use for my Thermos bottle.
As we approached Ocean Falls, the plane began to descend dangerously close to the ocean, and my tummy began an annoying series of rumblings. At about that point, some comedian on the plane yelled, "OH MY GOD, WE ARE GOING TO CRASH!" That was, umm, somewhat disconcerting.
No one had told me that the West Coast Air flight landed in the water and taxied onto a concrete ramp. As it turned out, this ritual was enjoyed on nearly every flight into Ocean Falls - terrifying "newbies" was apparently quite amusing.
When I left the plane, and stood on the tarmac, a youngster of perhaps 7 or 8 approached me and said, "if you're still here in six months, you'll love it."
Ponder that. As I know now, what he meant was that the rain was so ferocious, and so constant, that many who came there couldn't stay long...and those that did learned to ignore the rain.
Ocean Falls was the most beautiful place I had ever lived, and now, thirty-seven years later, it still holds that distinction.
Ocean Falls has always been known for its overabundance of rainfall - pick any number outrageous enough to convey the reality...170 inches a year, 300 inches a year...they're only numbers. The reality was that it rained darned near every day (except for summer, which was usually the third week in July), and Rainpeople simply ignored it. The rain often hit the ground so hard that it bounced three feet off whatever it hit...which was, of course, everything.
On Canada Day, 1979, the CBC sent a camera crew to Ocean Falls to produce the first in a series about Canadian outports. A group of us were sitting in a 6-mil-plastic covered bbq area, enjoying cold brew. A camera crew stood just outside the "dry" area (in Ocean Falls, "dry" is not understood in quite the same way as it is anywhere else in North America). The camera man had covered his Sony BetaCam with plastic...and he'd covered himself in plastic...and he was trying to record the Canada Day festivities...school kids competing in races on the old school playground.
From our "dry" vantage point, we could see the kids at the starting line, we could hear the Starter's horn blow, and we could see the kids start running...straight into a mist so dense the running children simply disappeared into it.
The CBC cameraman looked at us and asked, "How can you stand this rain?"
The answer, simultaneously from dozens of slightly inebriated voices, was "What rain?"
The day the government announced that the mill - and the town - would be shut down, we stood in groups, on the sidewalks, and wept. Today, all these years later, I still feel the pain.
My family and I lived in a home on a hill on the north face of the fiord...the road leading to our Tenth Street home was made of wood... 12x12's, if memory serves. We lived in a world populated by semi-friendly black bears and alcoholic mill workers. There were times when I would open the front door (on my way to work), only to be confronted with a cuddly, 100-pound black bear cub looking for a handout. At times like that, I'd retreat, close the door, and quietly leave by the side door.
A rather chubby black bear once jumped through the laundry room window and began to explore the house. My 5'1" wife (bless her heart) beat the bear about the head and ears with a string mop until it left.
We would sometimes feed the bears with fresh salmon, which was probably not a wise thing to do...but my kids enjoyed hanging out of the upstairs bedroom window to watch the bears being fed.
I once bought my son a 10-speed bike, which we stored in the basement when he wasn't using it. One night a bear explored the basement area, and made so much noise I had to check it out...when I opened the door to the area beneath the house, the bear panicked and ran right through my son's new bike, bending the frame in half.
Easy come, easy go...
Here is what's left:
Canada's stories include hundreds about our "outports," those isolated islands of humanity many Canadians called - and call today - home.
 |  , Certified Curmudgeon“It is difficult for my friend to express himself. Why? Has he an impediment to speech? Yes, he is married to her."--Will Ellis Miller |  |