By
Cindy Clancey, August 2008
In May
of 2008 I had the privilege of returning to Sable for the first time in 45
years. I could barely contain my excitement when out of the blue, a tiny
white crescent appeared. It is incomprehensible how this tiny slip of sand
could survive in the midst of the vast Atlantic Ocean. As we approached I
could see that the island was actually teeming with life. Herds of seals
in constant motion, dotted the entire shoreline of the west end. Horses
grazed on patches of green while huge flocks of gulls hovered above. As we
approached the South Beach, flying over the West Light and Sable Station I
felt as though I was watching my father's home movies .
When I
stepped out of the plane, I was immediately struck by the magnificent
scenery, an image that my father's camera could not capture. The wide open
sea and sky and rolling dunes were stunning, as was the massive South
Beach on which we landed. By contrast the inland scenery was far more
serene. As Zoe led Susan Tooke and myself among the dunes and freshwater
ponds we saw Ipswich Sparrows flitting about and the occasional lonely
seal which had strayed far from the rest of the herd. We encountered
several horses and their foals. They would study us for a moment and then
calmly resume grazing. They seemed oblivious to our presence. It was hard
to resist the temptation to approach them.
We spent
most of the afternoon exploring the west end of the island, an area
familiar to my family. At the site of the Old Main Station I caught a
glimpse of the tower lights. I could tell from our proximity to the lights
that we were at the location. However, the landscape had changed
dramatically. Where it was once flat enough to see the South Beach in the
background, it is now hilly with dunes. With the exception of a few corner
stones and bits of rusty metal, the Old Main Station has virtually
disappeared. It is amazing that these buildings could succumb to the
elements so completely. There is a tremendous amount of history hidden
beneath the sands of Sable.
The
highlight of my afternoon was the visit to our former home at the West
Light. The buildings were weathered, and the beacon had been rebuilt and
decommissioned since our days on the island. Yet, it was a familiar and
sentimental sight. The first thing I noticed was the fence that surrounded
the house. This fence held a special significance for me. It brought back
memories of my father explaining to my mother and I (some time after we
had returned to the mainland) that some of the buildings, including the
barn, had been removed, and that a fence had been constructed to keep the
horses away. Although I did not understand the logic, it was my earliest
indication that life as we knew it on Sable was changing.
We lived
on the main level of the two story home. Barring a few minor renovations,
the house basically looked the same. The kitchen, the views from the
windows and doors, and the living room were strangely familiar. I
almost expected to see my mother's clothes line, mop, and bucket on the
back step. Of the bedrooms that we used, one has assumed a new role. It
now appears to be a laboratory!
Like the
Old Main Station, the terrain at the West Light is transforming. I was
alarmed to see the sand closing in on the buildings, particularly the
Quonset hut. The road that was once relatively level now looks more like a
trench. The shifting sands are a force with which to be reckoned. I have a
new appreciation for the vulnerability of the landscape.
As we
left the site I paused to take one last picture. I imagined what it was
like when we lived there. I pictured the beacon slowly turning and
flashing, large grey wooden swings, clothes flapping on lines, adults
going about their chores while children played in the sand, chickens
scurrying, and friendly horses competing for treats ... but it was very
quiet and still. Foundations are all that remain of the barn and beacon
that my father once tended. There is little evidence of the domesticity
that my family experienced at the West Light. Except in fond memories and
pictures it seems unbelievable that such a scene could have existed .
Our last
stop was the Sable Station where we were greeted by Gerry Forbes who
explained the many and varied roles of the station. During my family's
stay, these buildings were simply known as the Weather Station which
reflected its primary role at the time. However, in addition to
meteorological services, the Sable Station now participates in a number of
impressive projects. I have always associated the Weather Station with
"Sci-Fi" gadgets and strange looking vehicles. I was rather amused to note
that this childhood perception still applies. I must also admit that I was
intrigued by the telephone service to the mainland which would have been
quite a novelty in the early sixties. With such advances in technology,
the island no longer seems so isolated.
After
witnessing many changes, I began to understand that the key to the
survival of the island and its inhabitants is change itself and the
ability to adapt. On our journey from the west end to the Sable Station we
observed subtle traces of more than 200 years of continuous human
presence. The evolution of human activity became increasingly apparent at
the site of each station that we visited. The Old Main Station was
notably involved with rescue and survival. The West Light aided in the
prevention of navigational tragedies. The Sable Station encompasses all of
the above plus addresses timely matters such as environmental concerns.
Perhaps current research on Sable will contribute to the
prevention of disasters of a different nature.
We
finally made our way back to the South Beach where our plane was waiting.
As did my father, I videoed our departure until I could no longer
physically see the island. Nevertheless, the impression Sable made on my
Being as young child will last forever. This brief visit affirmed what my
family has always known and respected. Sable Island is an extraordinary
place esthetically, historically, and scientifically. I feel extremely
fortunate to have had this encounter.
