Oct 072016
 

Dad’s Memorial – 24th September 2016

Jayne and I booked a wonderful Airbnb not for from our old family home on Sentinel Hill in West Van, and flew in to Vancouver from Ontario. With a few days to visit and make final preparations the weather cooperated and Vancouver was as beautiful as I can recall.

Under the guidance of the reverend Dr. Angus Stuart many friends gathered to celebrate dad’s memorial with us at St. Francis-in-the-Wood. Reverend Stuart made a lovely introduction then I spoke, followed by Marion/Jessica then Jennifer. After the service we had time to visit and enjoy our fine company and fond memories. We left with the words of one of dad’s favorite poems in our hearts.


Sea Fever
by John Masefield

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

Invalid Displayed Gallery

Rowland Noel Peter Evans

Was born in his family’s home in Oswestry, Wales U.K., the oldest of 8 children. Over the years’ dad’s mum, and almost all of his brothers and sisters, and many cousins traveled to visit us here, in faraway Canada. Sadly, his own father passed on before being able to visit.

We’ve always felt part “Welsh” and lucky to be included in our kind, loving, lively extended Welsh family. Thanks to social media we now seem to be closer than ever. I think cousin Kathy may be planning to visit soon.

Dad struck out on his own at an early age, moving to London and then enlisting in the Royal Navy, during the final years of world war II, then travelling to Australia & Ceylon, from where he made his way to Canada.

He and my beautiful mother Audrey met in Jasper Alberta, fell in love, traveled from Vancouver to Newfoundland, with dad then flying and working in engineering, they found time to raise a son and a daughter.

some favorite recollections …

elephant

Driving from Montreal to Vancouver in 1965, camping all the way, at every stop he and I would set our big old canvas tent up, I think I can still smell the musty canvas and hear the hatchet hitting the steel pegs.  While my mom got a campfire going my sister Jennifer and I would have time to explore, the sand or forests, we have wonderful family memories of summers spent in the old blue tent.

Learning to photograph, long before digital we had a family Rollieflex, and a small collapsible Leica, dad had bought after the war. Dad taught me with great care and expert technique, how to handle the controls and manually expose both black & white and colour film. As time progressed we continued to share a great love of image making. When I moved from Vancouver to Toronto and became involved with a photographer’s co-op & gallery, dad was there at my first show of BC landscapes. He even helped with the framing!

Dad’s love of travel and exploring the natural world is always with me. He traveled extensively with his engineering business, from the late 60’s to late 80’s international trips were exhausting and demanding of much of his time. With his big old dented, heavy, tan suitcase he would be off, on another trip designing and building communication systems, with us for support at home and the airport both coming and going. When away, he always found the time to remember birthdays, a card would arrive with an exotic stamp, an important day never forgotten. Once home neat packages would emerge from that old suitcase, and we would be presented with some treat, for me a tiny carved elephant from Thailand and graceful teak boat, for mother and sister hand printed fabric, silk and my sister began to collect dolls. Always something was brought home for each of us.

While away he made wonderful images of his travels, now with a neat new Nikon, that had a built in light meter, purchased in Japan. Once home it was straight to Kodak to get the slides done and then my favorite, and his too I think, a family slide show, and he would tell us of his adventures.

In 1967 dad’s business called and we moved abroad, renting a house, complete with wall, swimming pool and courtyard with fountain, in Tehran, Iran. With time to visit dad’s family in Wales on the way there, and make stops in Lebanon, Greece, Italy and Portugal on the way home, we felt like jet setters. I had my own small camera to record our travels, and while living in Toronto in mid-90’s exhibited black and white images I had made as a 10 year travelling in those far flung places.

Dad’s early career in the Navy never left him, back in Vancouver, home from Iran, we started sailing, enrolling in lessons at the Hollyburn sailing club. We learned to tie proper knots, predict the tide and then joined the Royal Vancouver Yacht Club, to take up racing & cruising. Over the years 5 sailboats from a Star 2 person racing sloop, to dads’ much loved 44-footer, Qismat graced Vancouver’s waters with him at the helm.

A career change found me moving to Ontario in the late’ 80’s, I can still remember talking to dad on the phone, long distance from my small apartment, in hot, busy downtown Toronto, so far from beautiful BC. How was it going, would I like my bike? He of course would box it up and send it as soon as possible.

When my now partner Jayne and I moved to Northumberland County east of Toronto, in the early 2000’s, we had purchased a sail boat of our own, dad could now visit us and sail on our boat.  Together we enjoying the harbours of the 1000 Islands and the protection of the Bay of Quinte. On a difficult return sailing trip from Lake Huron, dad was able to locate a critical mark in the fog, using our boats radar, when we had given up finding the harbours entrance, his navy training still coming in very handy, I will never forget how he had a “quick look with the radar” and our problem was solved.

Recently dad helped us take our boat from Lake Ontario down the St Lawrence Seaway, visiting Montreal, Quebec City and joining us for a wonderful tour of Nova Scotia’s coast, as far south as Lunenburg, a poetic return to one of Canada’s most historic harbors, that we had driven to in the early 1960’s when living in Montreal, one of my fondest summer vacation memories as a child.

As the years passed we’ve done less sailing but visited often, living in Ontario Jayne and I love to come to Vancouver, in the winter particularly. We would visit Dad and Marion in their wonderful secluded house, not far from here at Sahalee. Dad became expert at brewing beer and of the salmon BBQ, we would sit on their patio and view Howe Sound and delightful sun sets that silhouette Vancouver Island.

Dad and Marion made regular trips, went on wonderful cruises and often came to stay with Jayne and I in Cobourg, Ontario. We own an 1850’s cottage, that we’ve been restoring these past many years, I’m not sure it will ever be done. Dad said he loved to visit our place so much, it reminded him of his mum and dad’s wee house in Oswestry, many, many years ago, back in their green and peaceful Wales.

  4 Responses to “I must go down to the sea again …”

  1. So sorry to hear about your loss, Mike. Very nice to read your tribute and poem.

  2. Lovely photos of this very special journey to Vancouver, Mike.
    You were fortunate to share a passion for sailing and the sea with your father.
    With sympathy,
    Johanna

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