The Enlightenment on Turning 40 (at Fogo Island)

I just turned the magical 4-0, the mid point of life. I decided to embrace the milestone and take a journey to one of the four corners of the earth, Fogo Island, NL. The hope was to celebrate and open myself up to the inspiration that a rugged powerful place could deliver for the next 40 years. My head has been spinning since I have returned with possibility and a new perspective. My journey to the Fogo Island Inn began before the Inn or the artist colony was built, when it was a radical and inspiring idea that a girlfriend of mine wrote about for Chatelaine magazine which put it on my radar in the first place.
The now famous Fogo Island Inn is the brainchild of Islander Zita Cobb who made her fortune as the CFO at JDS Uniphase. Cobb was born to a fishing family and raised, the only daughter of seven children in the community of Joe Batt’s Arm in Fogo Island. She has said in interviews that she feels as though she grew up in another century. The Cobb family didn’t have electricity or running water and her parents could not read or write. What they, and everyone that not just survives but I would argue thrives on the Island, did have was a spirit of commitment to making things work in the place they knew.

Caption: The stunning dining room as the sun sets about as close to the wild ocean as you’ll ever be eating the most delicious local food prepared by an award winning chef.

The weather is legendarily brutal on the island. Basic connectivity to modern ways of life are tenuous at best. For these reasons Fogo Islanders are necessarily recyclers, makers, and artisans. The houses, clothing, furniture, and boats on the Island were all handmade out of necessity from materials reused or foraged. This ability to make, and the devotion to craft has left an indelible and unique impact on their idea of knowing. The intrinsic and practical, passed-down-for-generations, knowledge-by-doing tasks again and again over centuries in a digital age seems quaint at first glance. Once you are immersed in their quiet confidence and peace despite not having control over the most rudimentary things like nature, it is powerful to observe. The only thing that came close to wiping out the Islanders was never the brutality of mother nature, but the 1992 moratorium that formalized the end of cod fishing as a way of life. The island started to empty out of the young people who all of a sudden had no future in the place that they loved.

Caption: This is a room with homemade quilt, rug, and all manner of furniture. It’s been said that the only thing that doesn’t seem able to be sourced locally is the room telephone.

This is the backdrop for all the things happening on Fogo Island. There were a number of life lessons which inspired this love letter. More than a travelogue, I discovered a few truths I wanted to contemplate:
1./ The idea of place as fundamental and the possibilities of harnessing of the collective in that place for the greatest good.
2./ Individualized lives lack the power and vision that acting as a collective allows.
3./ Fostering community and proactively making connections outside of your immediate comfort zone makes a huge impact and is worth the effort.
4./ Massive vision executed with the clarity of a singular outcome increases the possibilities for success.
Let me explain why through what the Inn has done, what the Inn is trying to do and how it is demonstrating the impact that a multifaceted and successful social enterprise can have in real life on a large scale. None of this is theoretical. The people of the Island are all about the end result not proving any academic theory. I put myself humbly into these experiences and it has taught me much, and I hope this small love letter to what I have learned will instruct and inspire you.

Caption: They certainly do not suffer from a lack of humour. Taken at Seldom-Come-By an inlet that unless the weather was raging one would (you guessed it) seldom come by. Known locally as simply Seldom.

For the uninitiated Fogo Island lies at 49° 44’ north perched in the Labrador Current off the north Newfoundland coast. It takes a fair degree of dedication to get here no matter where you are starting from in your travels. Our journey to coincide with the all important ferry, took us from London to Toronto, Montreal to Halifax and then onto Gander. Due to a ferry issue the last leg from Gander to Farewell was replaced with a plane ride directly to Fogo Island’s landing strip (which the Inn arranged). Once we landed on Fogo (population 2,700) it was apparent that literally everyone knows each other and the stereotype about Newfoundlanders giving you the shirt off their back is true. Everyone welcomes you to their home. Many seemed surprised that we travelled miles and miles to come to Fogo Island, which make the encounters all the more charming. There is no touristy vibe, quite the contrary in fact. On the flight from Gander to Fogo Island our seatmate asked us if we were going to the Inn because “we didn’t look like Newfoundlanders” and proceeded to introduce us when we landed to Colleen, one of the Fogo Island Inn’s community hosts who was “who we’d be lookin’ for.” When we crossed paths a few days later with the tourism officer for Fogo Island he apologized that there was no “Welcome to Fogo Island” sign which he suspected that we’d want a picture in front of for posterity. We came to meet Sandy because he said it was no trouble to open a museum that I was interested in seeing that was officially closed for the season for a personal showing. We’ve seen many “Welcome To…” signs but never had an experience like that ever.

Caption: Staying rooted, no matter the difficulty in doing so – is fundamental. Place matters and forms a large part of us all, whether we admit it as readily as Fogo Islanders. Taken from the Fogo Island Inn

The execution of what is a grand vision for the Fogo Island Inn (celebrating its 3rd year in operation) seems enormous, but in fact happened slowly over time, and this is why Zita Cobb has gotten it so right. Without the building an Inn on anyone’s mind, she and two of her brothers created the Great Fogo Island Punt Race to foster boatbuilding skills in a new generation. It occurred to one of the Cobb brothers that Fogo Island was eight funerals away from never being able to build another wooden boat on the island. We had the great fortune to met Hal, a retired Fogo Islander who spent a decade working in Calgary in oil and gas sector after the cod stock failed. He explained that he loved Calgary and worked with lots of great people, but he “retired after 10 years on a Friday and had his truck and trailer packed up on Saturday heading East back to Fogo” We spent over an hour with him in his shed with an 80% completed punt boat while he explained the finer points of Fogo Island punts. We were in awe of the craftsmanship and method for building the boat relying only on local materials foraged. Each boat is constructed based on the curve of the tree selected. No using heat to create spines. Hal chopped trees down and scouted logs without knots for the best oars and paddles. When you are in his shed with hand tools that his grandfather built that he still uses, it’s impossible not to start to understand how all things are intertwined on Fogo.

Caption: Winter boat building in sheds is an art for Fogo Islanders and their craft of choice is a sturdy row boat called a Punt that is useful as an all purpose boat in the open water.

With the Great Punt Boat Race established and a few more hands building punt boats, Zita thought about the creation of a scholarship to send Fogo Island teens to university. At a community meeting to discuss the idea with locals, a mother stood up and pointed out that the scholarship would be ‘paying their kids to leave.’ Cobb realized that the problem she was trying to solve was a different one and a much larger problem altogether. What needed to happen with the reality of the current state of the fishery in full view, for young people to have the chance to stay on the island and thrive instead of leaving for parts west? It was this question and new problem posed that led to the establishment of the Shorefast Foundation in 2003, and ultimately, to the creation of Fogo Island Inn as the answer.

The Shorefast Foundation in the past decade has evolved into an inspiring and multifaceted social business. All operating surpluses are reinvested into the community. The foundation also offers micro-lending for local entrepreneurs, with a particular focus on geotourism. Shorefast created the Fogo Island Arts Council. This isn’t some art appreciation society for Maritimers that is set in a quaint outport for tourists. Like so many things that we were gobsmacked about while on Fogo, the practical impact that arts plays is added to the list. Zita has been quoted of saying of the impact that the artists that have come to Fogo: “They help us better understand how we belong to the world. They are our partners. These relationships help us distill and clarify who we are. By knowing who we are and by understanding how we belong, we won’t fall out of our own story.”

Caption: There is beauty everywhere – including the stairwells. Each level of the Inn has locally designed and beautiful wallpaper that capture the island’s shapes and spirit

What many people know about the Inn is the stunning architecture. Newfoundland born architect Todd Saunders was given a seemingly impossible task: express in modern architecture the 400-year-old wisdom of Fogo Islanders. The design at first appears to be in such contrast with the wooden homes that dot the island, but it is the island and the way of life that inspired the design. The Inn too, is made of wood and stands on stilts just like the traditional fishing stages (where cod was cleaned and salted) that still line the shore.

Caption: The top photo is of a fishing stage – there are many and they dot the shoreline. Every family would have one to clean and salt fish and many of the people that we met have stories of working long hours with a kerosene lamp when the sun went down gutting fish together as a family. The Inn doesn’t look so different when paired alongside the stage, now does it?

Once inside the quilts and rugs are made by the local artisan guild; women who learned their craft from their mothers. The furniture is all locally handcrafted. Everything is available for sale right down to the scarves that they’ll loan you on a cold day. One night over dinner, taking a break from looking at the Atlantic Ocean I looked up and realized that the spectacular chandeliers were constructed out of fishing rope. The waitress noticed me taking this in and I remarked that of course this would be the building material, but she further educated me and said that the designer responsible had come to Fogo and taught 3 local women how to construct them personally.

Caption: These chandeliers are breathtaking in their scale and simplicity and the connection to what matters on Fogo Island.

The idea that the storytellers, the rug hookers, the tradesmen and the bartender all equally contribute to the economic prosperity of the island through their talents is at the heart and charm of the experience at the Inn. They will not only let you in, but will welcome you excitedly. Thrilled you are interested. We sat in on a Friday night open mic with Islanders singing traditional songs and more contemporary jigs at a community hall. We got the chance to hear a panel discussion on the fishery and learn the finer points of what actually matters when push comes to shove in tough times and what separates success from failure. It was apparent that seal hunters and carpenters stood shoulder to shoulder and everyone was not just looking out for each other’s large families but getting through brutal winters required this sort of community. The fact that almost every cemetery we saw had all the headstones lined up looking towards the ocean right near the shore, because as Blanche our community host reminded us, “what other way is there really to spend the rest of yer days?”
Zita summed it up best in a recent interview: “Those of us in our 40s and older still have handholds on the past and the people who have gone before. We are the ones who must translate it into something new. My hope is that we can live, grow, and thrive as a people at home, holding onto this place as we have held on to the past, continuing to find ways to stitch ourselves into the fabric of the larger world. I hope we can adapt as modern people without ever letting go of place, and without letting go of all that has come before us in this place. I hope that the sense of continuity can always be felt. We see the inn as a bridge that connects us to the past and the future. Or perhaps it’s like a ship that carries the memories and knowledge of where we’ve come from, and the dreams of where we are heading. Most of all, this ship carries the place called Fogo Island. Place itself is what sustains us. Without our place, we wouldn’t be.”

We all too readily dismiss place as being somewhat irrelevant. This current idea of the global village. I know it was important for all it holds and all the struggles it creates, that Fogo’s idea of place was the thing that I most took away from my time on the Island. Off Fogo Island we treat place as being inconsequential. The global village means one can succeed here or there. You work at the highest order based on who you know and where you currently are today. The only restriction it seems is Wi-Fi access. In the modern world you simply surround yourself with what is required by mail order and put your head down and chug along.

What if we have it all wrong? This putting the head down and working in an individualistic manner to a personal or near term goal. What if those around us mattered not just because of their physical proximity but because there were synergies that we had never realized simply because the convenience of alternatives left us all seeking solutions farther afield. What if we looked after all of us in a way that benefitted us all? It’s possible. It’s happening on Fogo Island in the midst of seven brutal seasons, a collapsed fishery with a population that isn’t in the business of being retrained easily. It should inspire us all to commit. To commit to each other. To commit to our place. To commit to other ways of knowing.

To the next 40 - and better.