When we moved into Deep Cove in August of 1968, it seemed idyllic.
Our house was near the bottom of Rockcliff Road, with a spectacular view across the Cove and up Indian Arm. Never mind that it was an unwinterized summer cottage and had no foundation, or that the Cove was considered back of beyond. For two young teachers with no kids yet, it suited us fine.
Deep Cove was a little world of its own. Gallant Avenue had a market, a tiny credit union office, a burger joint, and a few other small businesses. A motel stood where Deep Cove Kayak now operates. We loved the quiet, and being able to haul our canoe down to the water for a paddle up the Arm.
That changed just after Christmas.
We had already seen how a storm could roll down Indian Arm, but in late December we learned the meaning of outflow winds. Cold air surged down every inlet on the coast, and by Boxing Day the Lower Mainland was dealing with -11 C temperatures.
That put us and our shack in trouble. The wind blew under, over and around the house. It was barely insulated, and an oil heater in the living room had to keep the whole place warm. Fed by a big tank in the backyard, it now stopped working. We later learned that the oil had simply jelled in the pipe from tank to heater.
That wasn’t all. A slight drip in the shower head created over an inch of ice on the floor of the shower, and the newly installed gas stove couldn’t begin to heat the place.
It wasn’t just us. Wind roaring down the arm had created waves and spray in the cove, which froze on the boats in the old marina. One morning we looked out and saw every boat sunk at its moorings.
And the Cove itself was iced over for a hundred metres or more from the shore. You could throw a rock and watch it skip and slide across the ice past the sunken sailboats. At low tide the ice stayed behind, covering the rocky beach in jagged plates.
We were lucky to have friends in the Capilano-Highlands neighbourhood who could take us and our dog for a few days until the weather warmed up.
The Cove has never seen quite such a cold winter since then, and I hope it never does again.
Crawford Kilian taught at Capilano College from its opening in 1968 to retirement in 2008.
