Much has been written about the history of Sable Island. Most notable are the books and articles by Lyall Campbell who has studied the island’s pre-confederation era. Barbara Christie has researched and written about the introduction and husbandry of horses on the island from the late 1700s through to the mid 1900s. Also, there have been numerous popular books, articles and television documentaries which present, with varying degrees of accuracy, Sable’s history. Thomas Raddall’s novel The Nymph and the Lamp, although fiction provides a multi-layered and evocative account of life and work on Sable in the early 1900s. The book is a weave of history and personal experience—Raddall spent a year on the island, working as a radio operator (1921-1922). Although most writing has covered the island’s history from first known human encounters to the latter years of the Humane Establishment on the island, recent history—that of the 1950s onward—is also interesting. It is relevant to understanding the development of the modern day human presence, and also speaks to the continuing human experience on this isolated sliver of land. This new section in the Green Horse website is comprised of notes and stories from people who have visited or worked on the island, and begins with two pieces: one prepared by Cindy Clancey (née Forward) who was a young child when she lived on the island with her parents, and the other presents some observations by a British Airways Concorde pilot. Two very different perspectives, each expressing an understanding and appreciation of the island and its natural and heritage values.




Four-year old Cindy standing near the ruins of buildings at the old main station on Sable Island. This photograph is one of a collection of photos taken by her father, Sid Forward, during their two-and-a-half years on the island.



Sid Forward and Family on Sable Island By Cindy Clancey In the early 1960s my father, Sid Forward, was employed as an electrician on Sable Island. He was responsible for maintaining the lights and diesel power station. My mother, Doris, and I accompanied him. We lived at the West Light in what is now the "Fisheries and Oceans" house. We resided there from the spring of 1961 to the summer of 1963. After we returned to Halifax my father continued to service the lights through the Department of Transport. During our stay on Sable there were ten other permanent residents including weather people, a wireless operator and two other children. In spite of the island's isolation, there was a steady stream of visitors. According to my parents’ photos, workmen, scientists, Mobil Oil representatives, National Geographic photographers and the occasional politician were enthusiastically greeted by the tiny community. We had many dinner guests. Transportation to and from the island was primarily provided by the Coast Guard and the Department of Transport. We travelled on the Labrador and the Cornwallis. The latter vessel was the nicer. My parents once charted a small private plane to take us to the mainland for a vacation. Less elaborate trips usually involved noisy helicopter rides or getting soaked on a barge during ship to shore excursions. Communication with the mainland was by radio. Aided by "Rube Hornstein," relatives in Halifax could contact us via the weather station. Local calls on the island were made on crank telephones. The arrival of mail and catalogue orders from Eatons were special treats. The supply boat arrived twice a year. It was quite an event. Everyone would go to the beach to help unload and watch the spectacle. Supplies and people would come ashore on board the barge and then be loaded on a cart pulled by the "Bombardier". I have memories of a jeep that my father used, arriving in that fashion. There was also an incident in which a television was accidentally dropped overboard. Supplies were stored in Quonset huts and we maintained a hen house for fresh eggs. I remember my father taking a wheel barrel to the Quonset hut to get groceries. Out of necessity my mother became an expert bread maker and a very creative cook. After the fresh produce was gone, there was only the frozen, canned and powdered. Island residents provided their own entertainment, especially in the winter when we lost all television reception. Musical skills were a valued commodity. There were plenty of social gatherings to pass the time. Walking, observing wildlife and beachcombing were daily rituals. As a child I fondly remember dodging "terns" as we walked, and spying on baby birds, seals and horses. There was always something new to see, especially after a storm. Eleanor and Fred Androschuk became good friends of my parents. Fred was the "CEO". They lived at the weather station for several years. I once saw Eleanor's name mentioned in a book called A Dune Adrift. The book made reference to a scallop shell that Eleanor donated to the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Sciences museum. Shell collecting was a hobby that we all enjoyed. Our relatives on the mainland were the usual recipients of our beach treasures. I’m pleased that Eleanor took beachcombing more seriously. There was another family who lived at the West End. The family surname escapes my memory. However they had two children, Cathy and Johnny. They were my friends. Sable was a wonderful adventure for a child. We lived in a huge sandbox with dunes to roll down and horses to ride. We were surrounded by amazing wildlife and even got to "check out" the occasional helicopter or airplane. However, our parents had to supervise us closely as medical emergencies were a serious matter. Ironically during our stay on the island, it was an adult who had to be airlifted to Halifax after suffering a medical incident. As for the horses, there were some that were reasonably domesticated. I recall some of their names: Flash; Lightening; Star; Lady; and April (a colt born in the spring before we left). These horses were actually used for transportation and provided many hours of entertainment as they roamed freely. With the exception of the barn, there were no fences around the buildings at the West End. It was quite common to see horses "hanging around”. We would often leave a bucket of water on the step. There was one herd of "wild" horses that was fairly tame. They would huddle around the buildings during storms and were usually not too far from sight. A lot of artifacts were still on the island when we were there. We were very fortunate to witness an archeological excavation and the detonation of a WWII bomb! The old "Main Station" was in ruins but still standing as was the "East Light keeper's house”. What a privilege it was for us to see and explore the actual remnants of the "Lifesaving Station". It is strange for me to see more recent pictures of these structures now covered by sand. Many of the buildings familiar to our Sable experience are now gone. . In some ways I suspect that life is quite different on Sable now. Although the need to maintain a human presence on the island is as important as ever, improvements in technology, communication and transportation have changed the activities and priorities of staff. Gone are the days when light keepers and their families made Sable their home. My family's connection to Sable seems surreal. It is now limited to pictures and stories as both of my parents have since past away. Although I was very young and have limited personal memories of the experience, the stories have been preserved through photos and home movies. I thought that someday such images might be of interest as our maritime "light keeping" heritage fades into history. Prepared for the Sable Island Green Horse Society Cindy Clancey © 2007

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The West Light area in 1962.

"This is where we called home. As I look at this picture I see what appears to be the Old Main Station in the background, contrasted by this more modern station with all of it's 1960's technology. Yet in spite of the impressive towers, wires and wireless operations, this West Light was also doomed to be decommissioned and replaced by even more modern technology. This picture represents a moment in time . This was the Sable Island that my family knew."

The West Light area in 2007

A photo taken from roughly the same location as the 1962 photo. The house where Cindy lived (now a field research building for scientists studying seals) can be seen in the right side of both photos, just left of the large Quonset hut. All the smaller Quonsets are gone. In both images, the south beach can be seen in the distance. The later view shows extensive development of vegetated dunes between the West Light area and the beach.


Also part of the island’s recent history are the flights of the supersonic passenger aircraft Concorde. The Concordes of both British Airways and Air France entered into service, simultaneously, on January 21 1976. Initially the Concorde’s transAtlantic westward flight path took it south of Sable, but to reduce the nuisance of sonic booms over populated mainland areas, the path was shifted northward. Sonic booms became a regular feature of Sable’s soundscape. Depending on atmospheric conditions, the booms ranged from a sort of low muffled rolling thunder to sudden sharp and loud bangs. Although there were occasional rattlings of loose objects on shelves, and once in a while horses and people would be startled, the Concorde’s booms were not particularly bothersome. The impact of the Concorde’s sonic booms on the island’s seals was studied by Perry et al. (2002). Their results suggested that “sonic booms produced by the Concorde, in level flight at altitude and producing on average a sonic boom of 0.9 psf, do not substantially affect the breeding behavior of gray or harbor seals.” On a clear afternoon, it was possible to see the Concorde passing to the north of the island. With the naked eye one could just make out the gleaming delta wing shape followed by its white contrail. It was only a matter of several minutes from the moment it appeared in the east to when it passed out of sight in the west. Good visibility made it possible to see the last few flights of the Concorde over Sable before the fleet was retired on October 24 2003. Geoff Musset, a Concorde pilot with British Airways, visited Sable Island on August 11 1999. He arrived with a party of fellow pilots and engineers. Coincidentally this was also the date of the solar eclipse. On the morning of the eclipse, Station personnel and Zoe got up at 3:00 am, made thermoses of coffee and packed snacks, and went to the top of Bald Dune to watch the partially eclipsed sun rise above the horizon. Six hours later, the Concorde crew arrived by helicopter. No long after his visit, Geoff wrote the following note about the relationship between Concorde and the island. At that time the future of the year-round human presence on the island was very uncertain. Geoff was among the many who expressed support for the Sable Island Station.

Concorde and Sable Island, 1986 – 2003. By Geoff Musset Sable Island held a particular interest and affection for the Concorde crews of British Airways and Air France during the era of supersonic flights between Europe and the United States. Because of sonic boom propagation Concorde supersonic flight over land was virtually prohibited, and those few sparsely populated areas where it was permitted, such as Northern Canada and Central Australia, were infrequent hosts to Concorde overflights. However, Sable Island was proximate to the westbound oceanic great circle (shortest distance) supersonic track routing from south of Ireland to the destinations of New York and Washington. The island thus received up to four direct, or primary, sonic booms a day throughout the years of Concorde operations. Unlike the subsonic flight paths over the North Atlantic which vary on a day-to-day basis to take account of the prevailing winds, Concorde, which cruised at heights between 50,000 and 60,000 ft where the winds are much lighter, was always able to use the same track. It was from this fixed westbound track, running just to the north of Sable Island that the booms were generated. With its high incidence of fog and low cloud Sable was often hidden under its veil, but on clearer days afforded a magnificent spectacle with the its crescent of sweeping dunes and beaches. Even from 55,000 ft it was possible to differentiate between the dunes, ponds and vegetation and see the breakers crashing over the West Bar. An interesting meteorological feature best viewed from above was the passage of a decaying tropical storm. Having bounced off the Eastern Seaboard and heading off into the Atlantic there was frequently still enough energy for the cloud tops to rise above 50,000 feet whilst probably giving the horses a good soaking below. For many years the crews had wondered what impact the regular sequence of sonic booms had on the bands of feral horses. The assumption had been that the shock of an isolated double-crack boom as Concorde passed would probably be mitigated by regular exposure to the sound although there is some variation in the severity and nature of the boom itself. Enquiries led to an invitation to visit Sable Island which five Concorde crew made in 1999. This memorable trip was a rare privilege to observe for themselves the diverse nature of the island so often seen from high above. Apart from the obvious fascination with the famed island horses, the marine and bird life together with the vegetation, and all the ongoing work of the station itself left a lasting impression. And as if to remind everyone of the history of Sable Island as The Graveyard of the Atlantic there was also the spectacle of a recently grounded yacht slowly filling with sand and no doubt soon to be broken by a passing storm. How reassuring it must have been to her unfortunate crew to find the island still inhabited and capable of preserving life. It is disheartening therefore to hear that after over two hundred years of human activity on the island her future has been in doubt. To the Concorde crews of yesteryear Sable Island is simply unique and deserves a protected future. Prepared for the Sable Island Green Horse Society Geoff Musset © 2004

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Cindy and her mother Doris in the doorway of the main house at the “old main station”. In those days it was still possible to explore, to climb the stairs and look out the upper floor windows, to see the shifting landscape of sea, sand and grass—changing but persisting, as people come and go.

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