“The isolation spins its mysterious cocoon, focusing the mind on one place,
one time, one rhythm – the turning of the light. The island knows
no other human voices, no other footprints.”
— M. L. Stedman
I met my egg man under somewhat unusual circumstances.
It was my third day on Salt Spring Island, and for the last 28 hours, we had been without water or power. As I’ve written about before, a freak snowstorm – the largest this region has seen in years – threw the island into a tizzy, and me into a state of rather desperate hunger.
Just before the snowstorm struck, my new landlord Christo had taken me into town where I’d picked up a few essentials for breakfast the next morning – coffee, sugar, cream, bread, and butter.
“No eggs?” Christo questioned as we checked out.
I told him I’d pick some up when I returned to town the next day, to do a more proper shop. That was how I learned one of life’s cardinal lessons, which I’ll pass on to you now: When you’re in a supermarket and your fridge at home is empty, by all means seize the day while you can.
Because the very next morning I suddenly found myself snowed into a yurt, with no way to get into town and only the aforementioned items to subsist on until the snow cleared. Gratefully my neighbors invited me up for dinner that night, and again the following day for lunch. Their dad Houston had gone into town and Hanna asked if he could pick anything up for me from the store. Naturally, eggs were the first thing that came to mind.
“Sure,” she said, “or you could just grab some from Virgule – let me give him a call.”
Virgule, as it turned out, is the neighborhood egg man. After confirming he had enough in stock, Hanna sent me to the end of our driveway, where Virgule emerged from the woods across the street holding a carton full of eggs. He had told Hanna on the phone about a crisis the snow had brought on for him – just the day before the storm, he had a large number of fertilized quail eggs delivered, with the intention of expanding his brood and eventually beginning to sell their eggs.
“I am not having the best day,” he said when we met on the street. “I slept with my eggs last night.”
He had eyes as blue as ice, wore his long brown hair in a low ponytail, and there was an unmistakable tone of defeat in his thick French Canadian accent. “Maybe three months of project come to zero.”
I thought about Virgule a lot during my first days on Salt Spring – not least because I’ve never had an egg man before. It’s one of the many quirks of my new life here – a life in which I wake to the sun streaming through the spherical window in my roof, in which I walk along the marina by Ganges Harbor and learn of a dock built specifically for dinghies, or on the rocky coastline of Grace Islet, where something dark and darting catches my eye and I find myself sitting ten feet away from an animal I don’t know the name for.
That was the first thing I fell in love with about this island – that hardly a day goes past when you’re not faced with something new; when there isn’t something to discover.
Perhaps inspired by those first 28 hours of snowed-in-ness, I didn’t venture far from the yurt during my first few weeks on Salt Spring.
Apart from my weekly trip into Ganges and the occasional walk to Burgoyne Bay, I was rather content to embrace my new occupation as yurt-dweller and fully commit to being a homebody for the spring. But one crystalline Wednesday morning in April, my neighbor Hanna asked if I’d be interested in having a picnic on the beach at Ruckle Park with her daughter Zyah and their friends. Now that sounded like something I could happily break my hermetic solitude for.
We consumed little that day that hadn’t been made here on Salt Spring – from the cheeses we picked up at the Salt Spring Island Cheese Company, to the bottle of wine we shared on the way home at Salt Spring Vineyards, the rows of budding grapevines unfurling below the winery’s deck.
But Salt Spring produces more than its own wine and cheese (although you couldn’t ask for a better pair of homegrown items, no?). At the famous Saturday Market held in Ganges every weekend, you’ll find over 140 vendors whose wares have all been produced on Salt Spring – hence the market’s official slogan of “make it, bake it, or grow it.” You’ll find lavender and leather, soaps and spices, jams and jewelry, and even beads made from dried rose petals.
It’s another thing I love about Salt Spring, and something that has always drawn me to islands:
The stronger sense of self-sufficiency; the feeling that, despite however many items must be brought over from the mainland, the essence of what you need to live on can be found within the borders of your isolated isle.
I made my inaugural visit to the Saturday Market about a month ago. The sun was strong and warm on my skin, but I wandered through the tents and stalls a little uneasily, jostling elbows with a crowd for the first time in months. I chatted with a couple of the vendors, made a few notes of things to pick up before I leave the island for good, and was just about to go when I spotted a familiar face.
It was my egg man Virgule, manning what was easily the most unassuming stall in the market. On a surface not even as big as a card table he had displayed a number of specially constructed wooden boxes, which he told me were nesting boxes for mason bees. He had been making them for years, until one of his informal customers convinced him four years ago to start selling them at the market.
We made small talk, until I asked about his quail. Without power for the incubator, that first batch of eggs had indeed not survived the snow. But I knew another batch of quail eggs had recently been delivered, and Virgule informed me that just that very morning, they had begun to hatch.
“The first one was born at 9:05. I had eleven kids this morning. Only 150 more to go.”
As he showed me a tiny chocolate Easter egg wrapped in purple foil – explaining that it was exactly the size of his new baby quail – I found myself unexpectedly thrilled for him; for this man who, every time I trek across the road to pick up another dozen eggs, is always at work in his coop. At various times I’ve found him building shelves or feeding trays, repairing the hen house, or laying out a new layer of hay on the muddy ground so that his “girls,” as he affectionately refers to his forty some chickens, don’t get their feet dirty.
It wasn’t until that moment, though, as the market buzzed around us and buskers filled the air with their guitars and sitars, that I realized how much I had come to identify with Virgule – with what it means to have a dream, to spend every waking hour working toward it, and what would happen if that dream came to zero. I hadn’t realized how much I needed this new batch of eggs to live.
I congratulated Virgule on his success, and his smile was two watts short of what you’d call a beam.
“I’m so happy,” he said. “This is the apogee.”
“The what?” I asked, unsure I’d heard him correctly through his accent.
“The apogee – the start of a new beginning, and the end of something else. If everything had worked out like it was supposed to last month, I would have encountered different problems. This year is a different year.”
I was thankful for the sun, as my sunglasses concealed the tears swiftly filling my eyes – how had I ended up with the wisest egg man on Salt Spring Island? Someone who couldn’t possibly have known about the darkness I’ve occasionally faced here, and about how scared I often am that my own dreams and projects will fail to survive the snow. Somehow, he had spoken the exact words I needed to hear.
That’s the last or perhaps just the latest thing I’ve come to love about Salt Spring – that revelations continue to unfold in the most unlikely of places. In conversations about raising quail, in laundromats and supermarkets, and in coming face to face with a squirrelly short-tailed weasel as you sit along the coast, waiting for the bus. Right in the middle of perfectly ordinary moments – moments that happen by accident or awareness, by circumstance or serendipity – life is made extraordinary.
And that, I’m slowly learning, is the real magic of this island.
“We must learn to reawaken and keep ourselves awake, not by mechanical aids, but by an infinite expectation of the dawn, which does not forsake us even in our soundest sleep. I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavour. It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look, which morally we can do. To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden
Survive the snow. The imagery of that poetic thought is blinding. What if our dreams don’t survive the snow? What if the second batch of our dreams are better than the first? Your egg man is indeed very wise. I also think the fact “that he didn’t have an incubator” the first time is indeed symbolic. Sometimes there is something missing…a key…significant…extremely important…part of the dream that is yet to come….I’ll be thinking about this for days to come…wow. Your words and sketches “affect the quality of my day.”
I love that quote so much!! Thank you for sharing it here, and for sharing your own wisdom as well. What you said about knowing when something is missing is so key – and definitely gives me greater patience to wait for the dreams that are yet to come 🙂
I love your travels. This one has been especially fun because I met a new friend who lives on Cortez Island, not to far from Salt Spring Island. I was able to tell her about the yurt, show her your pictures and your sketches. 🙂
That’s wonderful to hear, Karen! I haven’t had a chance to visit any of the other Gulf or Discovery Islands yet, but I’d love to get there one day – and I’ll be sure to stop by Cortes 🙂 I hope all is very well with you!
What a beautiful post! Thank you!
I have wanted to come to Salt Spring Island for a long time, but I’ve never felt it as intensely as I do now.
– Hey are there many yurts available? Are they expensive?
Thank you!
Brent
I’m so glad you enjoyed the post, Brent! And I’m equally glad to hear that you’re feeling the need to come and spend some time on Salt Spring – you won’t regret it 🙂 You know, I don’t think there are too many yurts available here (I’m actually just subletting for someone while he’s out of the country), but if you take a look at my most recent post, I included links to a couple of yurts on nearby Vancouver Island…I imagine it’s very similar scenery and vibes, and you’d get a fun taste of circular living!
Candice……
Thanks for the new word! I have been experiencing an apogee of my own, per Virgule’s take on the word. So this is what you have been doing in this yurt this spring…..becoming.
This is a wonderful story. Without a doubt, your blog is hands-down my favorite travel blog. I’m always excited when I see The Great Affair in my inbox.
Natalie
Thank you so much for your kind words, Natalie! I’m thrilled and humbled to hear that you enjoy my blog, and am so glad that learning about apogees resonated with you. I’d never heard of the word before either, but am grateful to Virgule for the lesson! It’s a perfect visual to describe the process of becoming, isn’t it? The way that life takes us to the edge of what we know, and even what we’re comfortable with, before bringing us to a new place of purpose on our path. Thank you as always for reading!!
First of all, I want to move to Salt Spring. Can I rent the yurt next? Second, I love this:
“If everything had worked out like it was supposed to last month, I would have encountered different problems.”
It’s SO TRUE. We will always encounter problems- that is just a given. There is no clear path to where we want to go. I love your egg man because he reminded me of that this morning as I sit typing at my picnic table.
First of all, I LOVE the thought of you typing away at your picnic table. That makes me so happy! And secondly, you and Brian have definitely got to visit Salt Spring one day…I have a feeling you both would love this little corner of the world. Finally, I’m so, so glad Virgule’s wisdom resonated with you – here’s to continuing to pursue our dreams down uncertain paths!
Another wonderful post! Your writing is so bautiful and so insightful. It has been such a pleasure travelling with you. Thank you so much for sharing both your thoughts and sketches.
Thank you so much, Roberta! It truly makes my day to hear you enjoy the stories and sketches – I’ve got one more sketching essay from Salt Spring that I’m working on for Monday’s post, and I’m so looking forward to sharing it with you! Have a wonderful, wonder-filled weekend in the Adirondacks 🙂
Lovely story and beautiful sketches. I love Salt Spring and all of the other Gulf Islands, they all have such a beautiful peaceful energy. I have a friend who owned a B&B on Gabriola and every time I visited her I felt renewed.
Thank you, Sarah! It’s wonderful to hear that you’ve spent time on Salt Spring yourself, and that you’ve been able to explore the other Gulf Islands as well. I thought about trying to see a few more (especially Gabriola!) this spring, but decided I’d make the most of my stay in the yurt and come back again soon to see the others 🙂 I hope you’ve been very well!
This post simply enthralled me & I devoured every word. I love reading your blog. Your paintings bring the stories to life, but your words add the details in my mind. Reading it inspires me and helps me keep my own dreams alive. I long to see more of the world as you have.
Amber, I can’t tell you how much your comment means to me. I’m incredibly moved by what you shared, and it’s a true honor to think that the stories and sketches I share here might help you keep walking toward your dreams. Thank you so much for that, and I look forward to hearing from you again!
Candace, I just love reading about your time on the other side of Canada. And isn’t it funny how the universe tends to introduce you to the people who can provide some of the best insight? I hope you’re doing well in your yurt, and best of luck with the next stage of your journey… wherever life may take you!
Thank you so much, Lisa! It’s been an absolute joy to share stories and sketches from Salt Spring here with you, and I’ve so loved getting to know your wonderful country a bit more 🙂 While the island itself is beautiful alone, what has made these last three months mean even more are the people I’ve gotten to meet here…the universe truly does know what we need to hear and when, doesn’t it? Thank you as always for reading, and I hope all is very well with you!
Is it sad that the engineer in me wants to balk at his definition of apogee or am I just being terribly pedantic? I’m really jealous of you having an egg man there in Salt Spring. How come more places don’t have that? I reading the world through your stories, and these last few have been particularly engaging. The self sustainability part of those places is always so wonderful, and your description of the place do definitely make me want to take up residence as well one day. You should start a Yurt company out there ;-).
Haha, I’m glad someone picked up on that, Anwar 😉 When I got home from the market that day and looked it up, I did realize the actual definition of ‘apogee’ is a bit different, but I felt like the spirit in which he said it was very close to the same…just in that we’re taken to this turning point, a place of being very much on the edge of something new, and so I wanted to leave it in. And I am definitely going to miss having an egg man, and just how sustainable life here is! Even today, I had a small realization that between recycling and composting, I’ve created hardly any trash these last three months. I know it’s kind of a strange thing to get excited about, but it’s nice to know the land is being taken care of, you know? Lastly, don’t worry – there are officially a few plans brewing in the back of my head now, a yurt colony being one of them 😉 Hope all is very well with you!
Oh that is so sweet Candace! It’s amazing when we find friends and wisdom in unexpected places. It’s like a little miracle. 😉
It’s a little miracle indeed, Elora 🙂 Thanks so much for reading – I’m so glad you enjoyed the story!
As always, a fabulous post enhanced with your beautiful watercolours. Every time you post your sketches on here, I am tempted to sign up for a drawing class so that I can learn to capture moments the way you do!
Looks like you’re learning some valuable lessons from your time on Salt Spring, and I’m glad it has been a meaningful experience for you. I’m looking forward to hearing about your next steps and seeing where you end up!
Vxx
It’s lovely to hear from you here, Veena! And now that I know you’ve been tempted to sign up for drawing classes, I’m going to keep dropping hints until you do 😉 I’ve just been working on another illustration assignment this week, and as I finished it up today, I was reflecting back on the last three or so years since I started sketching – and the key to it all (I think!) has really just been practice. Just continuing to keep the pen and paintbrush moving, you know? So I very much hope you might pick up a sketchbook soon! And I love how you put it – that sketching helps us capture moments…I couldn’t agree more. Thank you as always for writing, and I can’t wait to share more stories, sketches, and next steps with you soon! xox
Love your sketches and writing!
Thank you, Danh! I’m so glad to hear that, I love sharing the sketches here with you 🙂
Lovely entry on the wisdom of random encounters with some fresh eggs thrown in for a good measure 🙂 I could see you there, right in the middle of the market with a camera taking the shots. X
Thank you, my friend! I just wish you were able to stop by Salt Spring for a visit – I know you would love walking some of its beautiful forest and coastal trails 🙂 Sending lots of love your way from the yurt!
Absolutely wonderful impressions again Candace! Your encounters and stories fill the place with so much marvel, inspiration and life, it’s almost beyond belief. I hardly know anyone with such a striking sense of genuinely connecting with people! I’m sure you could even tease the storyteller out of a mute person and lend that person your voice by penning your memories of these moments…
Thanks again for sharing your lessons and may there always be wisdom hatching in the most unexpected moments and from the most ordinary people! Let’s celebrate these mundane miracles… 🙂
I hope you are doing Candace and may the wonderful place embrace you a while longer!
Oliver, I can’t thank you enough for this! What you said about me teasing out stories from anyone brought quite a smile to my face 🙂 but what I love even more is the appreciation we share for everyday ‘mundane miracles,’ as you so perfectly put it! I think that if there’s one thing I’m most grateful to the world for teaching me over these last few years of travel, it is absolutely the way it’s helped me focus on the present moment and find beauty and inspiration in our present surroundings – whether that’s a far-off foreign land, or the place we’re calling home at a certain point in time. It is such a joy to share these moments and thoughts with you here, and I’m grateful as well to you for always taking the conversations one step further in a new direction – thank you for that, and I hope all is wonderfully well in Edinburgh!
Finally got to reading your blog, Candace, I love how you write, and I love the messages and meaning you find woven through the small moments in life. It is truly a gift to be able to stop and see and hear the whisperings of the universe isn’t it?! It has been a joy to be your neighbour over these last few months!
Thank you so much for stopping by here, Hanna! I am unbelievably grateful to have ended up next door to you and your family this spring, and will be carrying so many beautiful lessons and fun memories from this island with me. I’ll be leaving a big piece of my heart here on Salt Spring next week 🙂
Candace, I love the egg man story. I love that you found in him the wisdom that speaks to you. I have found that wisdom many times in people’s words where I would least expect it as well. Your story also brought a tear to my eye! Hope all is well!
Locally produced wine and cheese…and a place called Grandma’s Bay. That’s paradise! I’ve enjoyed reading about your yurt adventure, Candace. May all of your eggs hatch safely 😉
Beautiful story! I feel the same way about islands and I’m always drawn to smaller communities. I explored Vancouver Island a year ago and regret not taking at least a day to visit Salt Spring Island. Glad to live vicariously through you and love the reasons to go back.