1966
A Posting To Isolation
By BETTY HEALEY
Editor's note:
D.O.T.'er Arthur Healey was officer-in-charge at Pachena Point Marine Radio Station from
1949 to 1955. With his wife Betty and three children, Ann, John and Michael who were then 12, 8 and 7 years of age respectively,
he spent six years at this isolated post. He went from there to Alert Bay and last summer took over as officer-in-charge at Victoria Marine Radio.
Access to Pachena Radio, which was closed down in 1958 after 45 years of operation, was by lighthouse tender, or Bamfield lifeboat, and then by workboat through the surf to the bonnet-sling; then highline up the cliff. If one was a good hiker, it was
possible to trek the nine miles from
Bamfield to Pachena-and that was how
the Healey's first got there.
Today, living once
again in a large urban community, Mrs. Healey recalls the rewarding experiences shared by the
family during that six year period. The
children are now young adults: Ann is
married and the mother of four children; John received a Bachelor of Education degree last year and is now teaching at Burns Lake, B.C., and Michael, working towards a Master's degree in zoology at UBC, plans to go to Europe for Ph.D. studies.
The following article first appeared in the
December, 1965 issue of Tel-Talk, an interesting newsletter edited by Maintenance Supervisor R. H. M. Lobb for Vancouver region telecommunications personnel.
Above:
Pachena Point fog
alarm building
Above: Pachena Point station
dwellings
Above:
The Healey's
Left to right: Mike, Art, Betty and
John
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On first hearing that we were going to live at Pachena Point, an isolated
station on the west coast of Vancouver Island, I was most apprehensive. There
were so many things to consider and provide for-schooling for the children,
medical attention, lack of the amenities, separation from family and friends.
The fear of not being able to cope with these new situations gave me many an
anxious moment. Even the word isolation had an ominous sound. Being a gregarious
type of person the thought of being thrown on my own resources was quite
frightening.
How would the children make
out with their school work? What if one of them broke a leg or became
desperately ill? How could I bear to
be separated from family and friends? What if I didn't like the other people on the station?
What if I couldn't get along with
them? I was going to have to leave behind all my electrical appliances. How would I manage
without them? There would be no theatre, no concerts, no movies. We are
creatures of habit and change of
environment from the hustle and bustle of city life to the awesome quiet of wilderness or lonely island shore seemed
overwhelming. I needn't have been afraid. On the contrary, I found it a rich and
rewarding experience.
It is true that judging from the standpoint of mileage we would be far from a
doctor and a hospital but in reality, my husband assured me, we would be no
farther away than the radio communication at the station. If anything untoward
occurred we could get medical aid and assistance by word of mouth. Outside
stations are equipped with first aid kits. We provided ourselves with one of our
own, too, asking advice of our doctor. He also gave us a prescription for a
sedative to be used only in an emergency. Fortunately we never had need of more
than a 292 to ease the pain of an infected tooth. There are times when
evacuation from an outside station is impossible because of weather conditions
but these are rare.
We discovered that the correspondence school in British Columbia is the
finest of its kind. With a little help and encouragement from us our children
received the best education available, perhaps even better than in the average
public school. In what other classroom could they have received individual
attention from the teacher? What better experience could I myself have had than
to review my early education so as to keep one jump ahead of my pupils?
I think the most important part of our sojourn on an isolated station as far
as the children were concerned was the fact that they were free from outside
influence. We were able to bend the twigs the way we wanted the trees to grow.
They didn't really miss companions of their own age. We believe they grew up
more independent and self-reliant than if they had remained in the city.
When the time came for us to return they made the
transition from country life to the classroom with less trouble than we had
anticipated. They did have difficulties to overcome but they were able to face
up to them in an adult manner that impressed both their teachers and classmates.
We learned a vast number of
things about life and living and the country around us that we would
never have had the opportunity to discover
if we had not undertaken the great adventure. We learned to walk, from our first
meanderings on the trails and
tentative explorations of the beaches, to the day when with a pack on our backs we could strike out on an
18-mile hike with no trepidation whatsoever. We learned to observe nature
at first hand, to scramble up and down
cliffs, to explore the woods and the
beaches. We examined the myriad shells and sea life. We relaxed in quiet corners. We listened to
the never ceasing murmur of the sea;
gazed in awe when winter waves thundered and crashed on the rock ledges. We studied the
flora and fauna, the migration of
birds. We discovered that the forest and the seashore have a special attraction.
Here we had time to think,
to wonder and assess. We learned why
glorious music is composed; why great books are written. Music was as near to us as our radio. We put
our powers of concentration to work
and studied the classics as well as
we could within the circle of our
limited knowledge. We trained ourselves to listen for recurrent themes, to identify different instruments.
We provided the children with some musical instruments
and taught them the little we knew and persuaded anyone with any musical
ability to help us out.
It was our experience that
we did not find ourselves lonely and
shut off from congenial company. There were other operators,
some with wives and families, some bachelors. Counting the two lightkeepers, there were 17 people,
including children, on the station.
The personnel changed considerably over the years we spent at this outpost and
we were constantly adjusting to new
faces and personalities. This was a test of our ability to get along with other people no matter what their
opposing ideas and ideals. In the city we had been free to pick and choose our
companions and naturally selected
those who were compatible. Here we met all kinds of different people. We learned
to have patience with their foibles, for as sure as little apples are
green we had plenty of our own. We felt
then, and still feel, that learning tolerance for the other person's point of
view is a trait well worth cultivating.
For our own peace of mind and for the good of the group as a whole we tried to adjust to and
harmonize with these conflicting nuances of character and behaviour. Whatever
we felt about misfits, and there were misfits, we
kept to ourselves. We tried to be friendly with everyone and not
invade anyone's privacy. We enjoyed
our privacy too; hours, days kept to ourselves
to do all those things we had never had time for before.
How would you fill those hours? Would you
like to further
your education? Correspondence courses and university extension
courses almost unlimited are at your disposal. You want to write a book? Now is your chance. All you
need is a corner with a desk and a
typewriter, stacks of paper, and the Open Shelf Library will supply you with reference
books. Are you a nature lover? The
study of the flora and fauna, not to mention bird life, is fascinating. Are you
a photographer? Here you have unlimited opportunity to pursue your hobby. Is your
need to paint or draw or fashion a collage? All your materials are at
hand-grass seeds, shells, fungi, pebbles or
whatever.
Once we became interested
in the infinite possibilities that lay before us, we welcomed the chances that came
our way. We realized that learning is a very important
part of living. If we had remained in the city would we ever have
taught the boys the correct care and
use of firearms? Would our daughter have been taught household economy,
not through having to be careful of the
pennies so much, as through the lack of convenience of the ever-ready corner grocery.
We learned to live amicably
in a limited community. We shared some of our leisure time with the
group and welcomed them all in our
home one evening a week in a kind of community social. We needed their company. We needed
to get to know them. We needed to
listen to what they had to say; some of it trivial nonsense; some of pithy import. We encouraged their talents. We encouraged our own. We felt that
we might never have another
opportunity.
When we had left the city
to travel this unknown path we had made up our minds to make it a happy
experience. I think we succeeded and
our time on an outside station proved to be a joyful interlude in our lives.
We knew from our own experience the difficulties our neighbours were facing and
we tried to make it agreeable for them. In
doing so we helped ourselves.
My years of isolated
experience are a long time behind me
now, but I feel from the vantage point of years that living there taught me many
things that I otherwise might not have learned. Such things as coping with emergencies (even
if only in the larder); getting
along with people (many strangers walked in and out of my life-hikers, researchers, frauds,
dedicated and sincere men,
bewildered young people, sages, countless simple human beings who left some small part of themselves
in my hands for which I am extremely
grateful); finding out for myself my own capabilities and limitations,
for which I am very thankful.
Life is mostly what you make it wherever you are, whatever you are doing. A
posting to isolation can be a grand episode in your life if you will let it be.
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