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November 1994 WEST VANCOUVER HISTORICAL SOCIETY Pages A TRUE “FERRY”TALE Once upon a time - this is the way all real fairy tales begin -there was a magic transport system, the West Vancouver Transportation Company. I was lucky enough to know the brave little ferries of this fleet almost from the beginning until cessation, and to enjoy my many experiences there on. Racing down 14th Street at top speed I would hear the ferry blow its warning toot. “Hurry up. Barb”, I would hear Captain Smith yelling from his wheelhouse. I would put on an extra spurt of energy to jump aboard just as the Sonrisa was pulling away from the pier at the foot of the street. Still puffing 1 would be greeted by the mate, maybe Bill Rae, and often hailed into the wheelhouse to visit with the Captain for the half-hour voyage to the wharf near where the Seabus now docks in Vancouver. The Captain steered the ship by sight, looking at the compass often, looking ahead and, in fog, blowing the whistle and listening for the echo. The mate also kept watch after collecting my 5 cent fare. In sudden squalls, sometimes of 60-70 miles an hour winds and in torrential rains, the Captain had heavy responsibilities in caring for his passengers. By: Barbara Johnson As a little girl the most exciting event in my life was to board the ferry with Mum or Dad and to stand at the rail and watch the blue-blue of the water, the beauty of Stanley Park as we passed it, the flight of the seagulls overhead, and listen to the chug-chug of the diesel engines. Occasionally I would descend to the engine room with the engineer and listen to his stories. My Dad enjoyed his commute morning and evening, reading the paper, or relaxing and visiting with the interesting people on board. Many good and lasting friendships were formed as we traversed Burrard Inlet. As I grew up I found that the rear open section of the ferries served a special purpose. What a perfect spot for necking! Many West Van life-long marriages owe their romantic start to this quiet place. Even after the Lions Gate Bridge opened in 1939, the ferries were needed. Gas was precious during the war and drivers were encouraged to take the ferry and leave the car at home. In February 1947 the service came to an end. A sad “goodbye” to good friends of 35 years. Ferry boats they were to many people but “Fairy Queens” they were to us in those magical days of early West Vancouver. It was an exciting ride some days, tossing from side to side or diving into the trough of the waves. I didn’t get seasick as West Vancouver Ferry ‘Sonrisa’ off Ambleslde Pier long as I stayed topside in the fresh air. The forward cabin was smoky, reserved mostly for gentlemen, and the other cabin was too warm for me. The engine rooms were models of cleanliness, truly works of art in some cases. One was labelled the Rainbow Room. Topside, of course, I had to reckon with seagulls and hair-ruffling winds, real concerns as I was making my way back to nursing duty at St Pauls Hospital on my half-day off per week. Of course I had been a longtime user of the ferries before then. No wonder I recall them all with affection. On my first trip to West Vancouver in 1918 on the Doncella, I accompanied my Dad on his way to buy property here at 11th and Mathers. He was “hooked” immediately by the charm of the ferries and the wooded hill sides and even at such a tender age of four, so was I. We learned that Mr John Lawson, our founding father of West Vancouver, had first come there in a rowboat, then in 1912, when the municipality was organised, the West Vancouver Transportation Company bought the West Vancouver from John Lawson and the Seafoam was sold to the canneries. Eight boats over the years made up the fleet. After the Seafoam came the Doncella, Sonrisa, West Vancouver No. 5, then Number 6, the Bonnabelle and the Hollybum. The Number 5 was rammed and sunk in 1935 with the loss of one passenger in spite of the heroic attempts by Captain Smith and mate George Hayes to extricate her from the cabin. This was the one and only fatality in all those years. L. JONES A BACKWARD GLANCE Fifteen years ago, in 1979, the Bonnabelle was tied up at the end of False Creek near Main Street. The automatic bilge pump stopped working. The owner at that time, Jim Land, was out of town. When he got back it was to find the beloved old vessel on the bottom. • That should be a sad enough ending, but it gets worse. Contractors came along and ploughed mud and debris over the hulk, smoothed it all over and paved it, creating a parking lot on top of the Bonnabelle’s bones. What an inglorious ending! By: Barbara Johnson