One of my relatives (step great grandmother I think!) is Hilary Brown, who helped set up the Coop and the Heron Rocks Cooperative campsite. She still lives at Heron Rocks, in her nineties. Me and most of my family live in the UK, but I’ve been out to visit a few times in my 20 years, 3 of which I can remember.
Hornby is a place that both stirs and soothes your soul. It is truly special and unique, and must always remain as it is.
I too remember reading in a cave Toby Island- me and my sister used to use a ledge as a bookshelf, leaving a few books there and spending all day reading stretched out in the sun on the little patch of grass, splashing back to shore for supper before the water got above our knees.
Other memories of Hornby include me (aged 9) and my dad sleeping in one of the Heron rocks 2 bunk sheds, and getting up as a misty dawn broke to watch a pod of 7 Orcas move silently down the channel between the islands.
I had another orca experience aged 16, when I looked up from my book to see a mother and calf breaking water a few yards away. I followed them the length of the beach, then watched them sink for the last time, and walked home throught the dappled shade of the pine woods.
I can sum up what I love about Hornby from a cristal clear mental picture I have. Walking out of the Coop into the market space, I gazed around at the beautiful artworks and handicrafts and glanced out towards the driftwood entrance arch. On a patch of grass across the road, a group of barefooted teenagers sat around a fire with a guitar and bongos. A long haired shirtless boy rode up bareback on a piebald pony, jumped off to join his friends, leaving the pony grazing peacefully beneath some trees. I looked up, and saw bald eagles silhoutted against the setting sun, flying towards the wilderness woods of Beaver Lake. I was at peace.
ps check out the Recycling Centre Free Store!
