The Story Behind That Piano in the Wilderness

Some months ago, a shopper at Walmart asked me if I knew anything about the “piano” in the bush along the Cowichan Valley Trail. Was it the one, he asked, I’d once mentioned in a Citizen column?

The one that its owner and neighbours had desperately tried to save from fire?

I could have answered, yes, but I hedged my bets and said, probably.

He was referring to an intriguing artifact that’s still clearly visible, should one know where to look, within 30 feet of the CVT, formerly the E&N Cowichan Lake Subdivision. I’ve noticed it during several visits to the former site of a 1920s sawmill community that has all but disappeared.

First, there was the fire, then the mill, rebuilt, closed and everyone moved away. Lumber salvagers, vandals and Mother Nature took care of the rest and what was, ever so briefly, known as Yellow Fir, became just another historical footnote.

Except to those who, like myself, like to haunt these vanished sites with a camera, notepad and, sometimes, a rake and a metal detector.

But you sure don’t need a detector to find the piano, as I’ll show you next week in the Chronicles.

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