I grew up in Deep Cove – I’m pretty lucky to be able to say that.
It was and is a great place to be a kid. I lived just below Gus’ Hardware, my family’s business, next to The Raven.
My dad grew up on Panorama Drive. My house was on the first Caledonia next to the parkway. Don’t ask me why there are three.
For the generations who called this place home, we will all say, we had the best time growing up.
My memories of my childhood are rooted in a freedom that really doesn’t exist today. We filled our days exploring this place that seemed so large, as a child, spanning from Cates Park to Deep Cove.
It was a simple community, allowing families the opportunity to buy a piece of dirt, and build a home.
My grandfather settled in Deep Cove in the 1930s because it reminded him of his homeland of Norway, a small community nestled in the fjords of Seymour and Indian Arm, its beauty, unparalleled.
Yet, the people are what really made the area so rich and why so many wanted to call it home.
As we grew older we realized it was also its geographic location, close to a big city but far enough away that you felt like you were in the country.
We had houseboats, and hippies, writers and artists, musicians and a few famous names that would come to visit. Families starting out, people building businesses, industrial employees and fishermen.
Yet home was living close to the water at the base of a mountain, what could be better? We used to tell people that wanted to move here that it rained a lot and was dark and grey in the winter – that was the truth.
But I really think it was because we didn’t want the secret to get out – we all loved it that much.
My dad would say, “I’m going into North Van today” or “over town” if he was heading to Vancouver – like Deep Cove was not part of North Van, it was a place unto itself. He was right.
High school was Windsor, until Seycove was finished in 1979; we were the first to graduate in 1983, with 50 grads. Even as a kid in Grade 2 or 3, we walked, everywhere. Most families only had one car.
It was a very safe community. Everyone knew each other.
Many families never even locked their doors, some had no idea where their house keys were. Our community was surrounded by nature, and the forests and beaches were the backdrops to our schools, our neighbourhoods, the places we played as children and youth.
In the summer we were out when the sun came up, and home when the street lights went on.
We learned to swim in neighbours’ pools because Ron Andrews was not built. We had two floats in the Cove to play on, and you could drive right down to the government dock. Afterwards, we got an ice cream from The Nutshell.
Where the parking lot sits now behind the old apartments on Gallant was a horse corral. We had a water taxi that served those families that lived up the Arm.
If you want to know what a sustainable community looks like, go back 40 years to Deep Cove, we had one of everything, so we really didn’t need to leave. Some thought that was a good idea and considered succeeding from North Vancouver District in the 1970s.
People really only needed to travel to work downtown or go into North Van. Gallant Avenue had it all, Mr. Mortimer’s drug store, one of the original Cove businesses, Suburban Farms, Cho’s corner store, Lucy’s variety store, Harmony, The Savoury, The Nutshell, Chefi’s, Coveys – top restaurants that treated their customers like family.
There was also The Establishment, Pavlik Travel, Russell Davies’ jewelry store, Andre’s hair salon, The Neil Squire Foundation, Fred’s Pizza Shop and Deep Cove Stage, where local theatre thrived.
A lady named Helena had a little store where she baked Pernik ginger cookies and a little well-known doughnut, now, Honey’s. Every merchant supported one another. Gus’ Hardware, Central Motors, The Spanish Inn, now The Raven.
I remember when the petition went around the neighborhood to turn the Spanish Inn into our first and only pub. Everyone signed it.
Stong’s, where our mothers would bump into one another and piece together where we had been the night before. My doctor’s office was where Deep Cove Music is.
We had a very forward-thinking Lions Club that gave back in a huge way to the community, including community events and creating low income housing.
I remember on more than one occasion, before stores were open on Sundays, my Dad opening up the store so someone could get a part for their broken hot water tank. Mr. Cho supplied the Savoury, which donated to Deep Cove Daze. Goodman Studios was central to everything photographic and political, while the Deep Cove Community Association kept everyone informed.
Deep Cove Yacht Club, Art Georges Marina, Deep Cove Canoe and Kayak, the water and mountains defined how we lived. The Deep Cove Bike Shop was opened in 1981, eventually settling in the old Esso gas station, and putting us on the map. Mountain biking took off, thanks to Chaz, Doug, and Ash. It changed a generation and would introduce those mountains to the world.
My dad had the May Day parade and when I was little, we had the King Neptune Carnival and then in high school, Deep Cove Daze.
The Cove has of course changed over the years. Businesses have closed or moved on, including Kuddel Muddel Kids, and new ones have come in.
The Cove is different these days in many ways.
Hiking up to Quarry Rock is now when it rains because it might be quieter, and let’s not talk about the parking, that is a work in progress. Yet in many ways it’s also the same, because of the people.
We have gained new friends, neighbours and businesses.
On Gallant Avenue, we have some of the most affordable apartments from the 1970s that still exist in North Vancouver, right next door to some of the most expensive waterfront real estate in the country – and what’s great is that people that live in these residences both get to share the same view, of that fjord. ■
