Island of Death

Squid Hole, Isle aux Morts

June 20, 2011

Wreck Rock, Bad Neighbour, Wash Rocks, Tinker Sunker . . . rocks and ledges with names. There must be hundreds, even thousands of rocks along the southwest coast and they’ve contributed to over 3000 known wrecks. George Harvey and his family lived on Isle aux Morts, Island of Death, in the mid 1800’s. He would bury the dead seaman that washed up from wrecks he couldn’t see and rescue those he could.

One wreck he rowed out to with his daughter, Anne, and dog Hairy. Hairy swam a messanger line out to the ship and then swam back to their little boat while Anne rowed to keep them in position. All told, Harvey and his daughter Anne saved over 160 seamen and passengers. The rescues themselves were amazing but then the Harvey’s fed, clothed, and housed the victims for several weeks before outside help could be summoned. I can’t imagine how they stretched their meager, subsistence living to take care of all those heartsick people who’d lost everything.

Today no one actually lives on Isle aux Morts though the town is close by. We loaded up cameras, hot chocolate and snacks and headed out for a long hike. No trails here, you just pick a destination and try to find the easiest way to get there. As we trod through bogs and climbed on top of tuckamore trees, I kept thinking of Dorothy trying to make her way to Oz. Tuckamores are short pines that have been growing for a really long time. Their branches overlap creating an interlocking web and a seemingly impenetrable obstacle.

Trudging along, a foot occasionally breaks through and you slip under the branches. Perhaps we’re one step away from being sucked down into an underground world of gnomes and fairies.