Charlie Cogger’s Tom Sawyer-style Summer on the Cobble Hill Frontier
(First of 2 parts)
As I explained last week, every blue moon the Mountain comes to Mohammed.
By which I mean that a story, fully researched, comes to me.
Such is this week’s tale by Robin Garratt of England. In 2010, by which time he and his wife were in their 70s, they visited the Cowichan Valley for two weeks. Robin wanted to learn more about his maternal grandparents’ brief employment at Hill Farm in Cobble Hill just prior to the First World War.
Dave and Beth Keith, proprietors of Sahtlam Lodge B&B, very kindly passed the Garratts on to me and Robin shared with me the part of his family history that pertains to the Cogger family’s sojourn at what’s now 1200 Fisher Road.
The young English dairyman and his family travelled halfway round the world to an outpost called Cobble Hill that they couldn’t even find on a map...
* * * * *
Children enjoying a ride on a hay wagon. Too soon they would be old enough to help around the farm.
There's some confusion as to whether J.H.S. 'Sam' Matson actually built this large Cobble Hill farm house in 1908 or whether a French Canadian named Gravelle already had a house on the site. It's more credible that Matson, a wealthy Victoria newspaper publisher and businessman, engaged a Chinese crew to build a residence here in 1914. Did he have it designed by the renowned Victoria architect Sam Maclure? That's another mystery for heritage buffs.
1200 Fisher Road has been described as striking, its covered porches on three sides (north, east and south) allowing Matson magnificent views of both his domain and of Saltspring Island. Various sources state that he grew fruits, wheat to feed his pigs and he had dairy cows. It's recorded that 2000 bushels of oaks were threshed during a single harvest at Hill Farm.
Thanks to Robin and Carol Garratt, we know something more about 'Hill Farm.' Back in 2010, the Garratts spent some of their two-week-long visit trying to learn more about his maternal grandfather's brief employment with Matson just prior to the First World War. Because of his 10 years' experience managing Jersey milk cows for the Bishop of Ipswich, James Cogger had been hired “on advice from the Jersey Cow Society in England to set up and run a herd of Jerseys” for Matson at Cobble Hill.
“I gather,” said Robin, “Matson thought it an appropriate hobby for a gent.”
Certainly the successful Victoria businessman had no interest nor intention of managing Hill Farm himself. Prize winning purebred stock were a status symbol for wealthy landowners of that period and Matson set out to raise the finest Jersey milkers. To do so, he needed professional help; hence, by referral, his hiring of 'cowman' James Cogger who, with his wife, three sons and a daughter, sailed from Southampton for the Cowichan Valley in 1913.
Thanks to Dave and Beth Keith, proprietors of the Sahtlam Lodge B&B, who forwarded the Garratts' queries to me, the Garratts have agreed to share their unpublished family history. Fourteen of their manuscript's 135 pages cover the Coggers' voyage from England, their cross-Canada train ride and eventual arrival and stay at Cobble Hill. Because Robin has had to work secondhand with his father's memoirs, and his father wasn't available to him for corroboration, there are the inevitable omissions and inconsistencies that bedevil the reader.
But, overall, it provides a fascinating glimpse into the life of a professional herdsman on a rich man's estate in the New World, as seen through the eyes of Mr. Garratt’s father, Charlie, who was then just seven-years-old...
After what had seemed like “millions and millions of miles” of forests, prairies and mountains [crossing Canada], the family finally arrived in Vancouver by train. Their first views of the city and ocean inspired Charlie to eloquence when he recounted, years later: “In the distance, nestled below more blue and white mountains, we could see glistening in the sunlight a vast city, spread like a pile carpet over a wide expanse of nearly flat land. Beyond clusters of tall sky-scrapers, like long ruffled pile, we could see the sea, dotted with misty blue-green streaks of islands, and beyond these, another line of fainter peaks.”
He remembered what he called a ferry, likely a CPR Princess steamship, as being very clean, not so crowded as the steamer that had brought them across the Atlantic.
“We spent the whole trip on deck because there was so much to see. Mother was glad the sea was so flat. Finally the shore became crowded with houses, and we turned around a promontory and we were there. Victoria Harbour was filled with shipping of all sizes, including many sailing vessels. Around were a number of magnificent buildings, all of which looked very familiar, although we had obviously never seen them before.
“After getting ashore and finding the railway station (called the 'Deep-o'), there was time to deposit the luggage and walk through the streets. It was here that we were reminded about the vaccination we had had on the ship. Elsie's scab had been knocked off several times and her arm became swollen and painful. Mother had got from somewhere a piece of scarlet ribbon and tied it around Elsie's left arm to warn people in the street not to bump into her. We were watching the familiar Salvation Army holding a meeting in the streets when Elsie showed some distress and suddenly sank to the ground in a faint.
“Quickly, people gathered round, but the Salvationists continued singing their hymn. A glass of water appeared from nowhere, Elsie came round, sipped the water and quickly recovered. We went back to the Depot by taxi and mounted the steps [o]nto the train for Cobble Hill.”
After their oceanic and continental travels, the 30 miles to Cobble Hill passed quickly. Soon they were pulling into the station where they saw “a single road with a large wooden building, above which was a large board painted with fancy letters with curlicues. I puzzled them out then with triumph announced, loudly, “Hottle and Stores—that's what it says!”
“Archie and Elsie hooted with laughter but Mother said, with hardly a smile, 'No, that's called Ho-tell, Charlie.'
“I subsided, crestfallen. Outside, there were few people about. Obviously, Cobble Hill was a very small place.
The Coggers couldn't even find Cobble Hill on a map!
“There was a group of people chatting together, and a man detached himself and walked towards us. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat, a rough, open-necked shirt over which was a waistcoat open down the front, and baggy trousers tucked into long boots. He confirmed we were the family he was looking for (which was pretty self-evident since were were the only family to leave the train), and announced himself as George Pringle. He would be Dad's right-hand man at the ranch.
“He hoped we had had a good trip, and that we should like the ranch. Then he grabbed the heaviest pieces of luggage and led the way out of the depot to a two-horse open vehicle with four wheels. The [boys] were lifted into the back and told to sit on an unpainted wooden bench there, and the luggage was piled in after us. Mother was helped up into a seat beside the driver. Then Dad passed Laurie up to her, climbed up beside her, and we set off. We passed a few scattered wooden houses with verandahs and soon hoped to see something of the town. But the houses thinned out and stopped. We had left the town. This was all there was to it.”
After proceeding along a dirt road (Fisher Road) through tall trees for what they thought to be about three miles, Pringle turned right at a wide and open wooden gate. Beyond, about 200 yards ahead, they could see “a cluster of building, and the dirt road ended. This was the end of our 5000-mile journey, our 11 days' continuous travel. This was Matson's ranch.”
To their left, the trees yielded to a wide, open slope that extended for almost a mile. Beyond, there was a slight rise and then “dark green pointed trees took over again. Wooden rail fences chopped up this area, and some 20 or 30 small cows, smoky-fawn and black, grazed chummily together. Beyond them, nearer the distant trees, were three well-spaced dark heaps with wisps of blue rising almost straight up in the still air. Farther to our left there was a rectangular area of what appeared to be pale green, giant grass growing close together. Directly in front of us as we approached were the ranch buildings, already in the shade of the tall forest which clothed the upper slopes to the right.
“We looked at our new home with curiosity.
“There was a big low bungalow with a verandah running round three sides of it, and 20 yards from that a similar bungalow, but without a verandah. This, said George, was the hands' bunk-house, while the one with the big verandah was ours. Beyond this, straight ahead, was a large area fenced in with long straight poles with the bark still on, fixed to very strong upright posts. Beyond this again was the largest building, which George said contained the cow-sheds around three sides, and...high enough to contain a second floor above the open barn. There were two other buildings besides: store sheds for farm tools and materials.”
It became obvious that Matson had made no arrangements for their coming. There were no beds (their own furniture was still in transit), and what furniture there was, was rough, little more than a table and some benches. “After a quick consultation with George, Dad and he took the buggy...to the next-door neighbours, Mr. and Mrs. Pragnell [who] lived a bare mile away. Dad made their acquaintance with George doing the introduction, and the [Pringles] were able to help by lending a double bed which had belonged to their two daughters, now grown up and married. This was quickly dismembered and loaded, with its mattress, and they returned to the ranch.
“For the rest, a handyman then and there knocked up a rough but strong cot for Loll [Laurie] now past his normal bedtime, and...it was decided that we three children should sleep in the barn. We were thrilled. We had a great feeling of adventure, we felt like pioneers and frontiersmen, and were much more pleased than if we were offered a four-poster bed each...”
Excited by the thought of sleeping in a hayloft that summer, he continued: “The ground floor of the barn was tall and spacious, to allow for the under-cover storage of some large farm implements. The back two-thirds of it had an upper wooden floor, reached by a long straight ladder. There was no fence or rail to guard the open side, and Mother was afraid we might fall over. However, we all climbed up to reconnoitre. There were many bales of straw, like rectangular bricks, and Father and George soon re-arranged some of these to make three adjacent cubicles, shoulder-high, as far away from the edge as possible and facing the far side. Armfuls of loose hay were brought and shaped and patted into mattresses, and lo! we each had a bedroom. We were anxious to try them out, and needed no urging.
“I can recall how the animal warmth floated up to us from a bull and a sick cow that were separately housed in boxes below. We stirred from time to time at first, when the animals moved during the night, but awoke at dawn to strange sights and sounds, and were highly delighted with life. These straw cubicles continued to be our bedroom in the future, as our furniture continued missing.”
Their idyllic introduction to Cobble Hill could have ended prematurely and tragically when brother Archie made a dangerous discovery.
Experimenting one night, he found that Canadian sulphur matches, when rubbed on the skin in the dark, “left a luminous streak which persisted for upwards of a minute.
“He guarded this knowledge like a state secret while he thought how best to make use of it. After we had settled down for the night, and Mother had climbed down after saying goodnight, and was safely back in the ranch-house, Archie daubed his face with luminous streaks in the most fearsome fashion he could think up: large circles around the eyes, three upright streaks from the top of the nose, a broad smear down the middle of the nose, and spirals on each cheek.
“Then, creeping around the division between his cubicle and Elsie's, he gave two low groans to arouse her. She was probably not asleep and therefore not so terrified as she would have been [had she been] roused witless out of sleep. She said later she thought it was a red Indian in war paint, and gave a fearful gasp, then because it appeared from Archie's cubicle side, she suspected some devilish joke on his part, and stifled her scream.”
Then it was his turn to be victimized, Elsie willingly serving as an accomplice as Archie “first climbed on the back of my cubicle and peered down on my space, so that when his blood-curdling howls drew me back to consciousness, I stared straight up into his upside down face, and really yelled, and continued yelling till he thought they would hear me at the ranch-house and he would get a beating.
“Quickly he stopped me, and confessed it was all a joke. I was very cross, and he had to put his hand over my mouth till I subsided. Then he explained, and in compensation for the fright, made luminous streaks on my hands, where I could see the result, and wrote something on my forehead which I couldn't see. We all three got together and had a high old time, decorating each others' faces. There was no thought of danger. We just didn't think. And we just didn't strike a match then or thereafter.
“Only now do I have a fluttering in the pit of my stomach when I think of the roaring conflagration that could so easily have engulfed us all.”
During the days that followed, the children explored their new surroundings, at first as a team “as if for mutual protection against the unknown”. Once they became more familiar and confident with the farm environment they began to individually investigate “whatever drew our separate attention,” and reunited only when “hunger drew us unerringly to the table”.
For the Cogger kids, particularly Charlie our narrator, life on the Canadian 'frontier' was one of adventure and discovery; such as the day that he saw his father rush into the house and reappear a few seconds later carrying a gun and looking excited. He “walked quickly towards the field of maize, which was the giant grass we had noticed on arrival. He behaved very oddly, because he moved with caution as well as haste, as if he were stalking [something].
“In turn I stalked him, until I almost ran into him when he stopped suddenly and I was trying to look around as well as follow him. He turned and saw me, and put his finger to his lips. Then he pointed towards the far side of the maize. He whispered that he had seen the antlers of a deer, and said I must stay still where I was until he called me, even if I heard shots. He crouched low along the edge of the maize and disappeared. After what seemed to be a very long time, which tested my self-discipline sorely, I heard just one bang, and then his voice calling my name. I sped in his direction and presently came upon him examining the deer, which was dead but with its eyes open. I felt a pang of regret to see such a fine animal dead. Dad explained that it was eating the maize, which he had to protect.”
Told that the deer would would provide fresh meat, something of a novelty, Charlie cheered up.
“In fact, everybody on the ranch had as much venison as they could eat for the next week, and Mother experimented with some new dishes to give us variety.” The venison had been a welcomed variant because only basic groceries were bought weekly in Cobble Hill village: sacks of sugar, flour and oats, cases of canned fruits, corned beef and preserves, a side of bacon and “so forth”.
The arrival of the Coggers proved to be a blessing for the community as a whole, there having been only 18 children of school age in the area and the minimum number for which the provincial government would provide a teacher was 20; the Cogger kids made 21. This really annoyed Archie who'd already left school in the Old Country but in B.C. schooling was compulsory until age 16 and “he therefore now reverted to schoolboy once more... The authorities moved fast. Within a fortnight, a log schoolhouse was built, with a corral beside it [and] a teacher hired. Parents [were] notified, school opened and learning began.
“Formal learning, that is; the students we met at school had learnt a great deal about nature already. Almost all came to school on their ponies or horses, which were tied up with their nosebags in the corral during lessons. We, of course, had no ponies, and to begin with the three of us were taken in the buggy by George. After a few days, however, Archie and Elsie went on ahead because they were ready before George turned up to collect us, and I alone was taken in the buggy. Then George, probably thinking it wasn't worth his while to make the daily trip for one seven-year-old, sometimes failed to turn up at all, and I would wander off on my own. Sometimes I would get to school late...but as time went on I took unofficial days off and, provided I was able to guess from the height of the sun when it was time to get back, I was free to go where I pleased.”
The “countryside” fascinated him.
“There were so many strange plants and shrubs, whose colours or shapes were new to me. One day I startled a snake and he startled me; I leaped back out of range then watched him slide away like a streak of lightning. I saw many attractive looking berries, including one sort I learned later were called blueberries, but I was too cautious to...eat any.
“The trees were giants in height, though often not very wide. They were all pointed and dark and sombre once you got in amongst them. [They were] so different from any other forest I had known. In Epping Forest the trees were friendly and inviting. Here they were sober, with sharp fingers held straight up in admonition, as if warning me not to trying anything, or else... But they were still fascinating, and though over-awed I ventured cautiously amongst them to explore.
“Another feature of the forest that was different from Epping was the rounded boulders and stones of various sizes that seemed to be growing out of the turf. Some were big enough to scramble upon, and one day coming home from school by a new route I came across a very large boulder near the top of the hill overlooking the ranch. It was 20 feet or so in length and rearing up a sharp angle till the top was 12 or 15 feet off the...ground. When I first found it I was already late, but resolved to return soon and climb it.
“I remembered this one day when I had dodged school, and found it again with difficulty. From the top I would be 'king of the castle' and have a good view of the ranch house from above, and of the wide valley beyond. As I approached the rock and went round behind it to the lowest part where I could begin the climb, I suddenly confronted a bear. He was black with a shaggy coat, but with grey around his muzzle. He was standing on all fours with his shoulders hunched and his head and neck lowered. He looked at me, and I looked at him, transfixed, from a distance of about 15 yards. Then he swung his head to and fro, from left to right, and the spell was broken.
“Instantly, I renounced my kingship, turned and pelted off the way I had come.
“After a few yards downhill I turned my head to glance back to see whether he was gaining on me. It was a mistake. He had not moved, but rather seemed surprised at my behaviour. But in looking behind I had failed to see a small rock in my path, caught my foot on it, and hurtled forward, airborne, for some feet, sprawling as I landed, and rolled over and over and was on my feet, running again all in in one fluid motion—a feat which I have never since tried to repeat. After this I looked only ahead, and arrived home white-faced and breathless. I needed to be near protective adults and chose to appear in the kitchen and plead feeling sick to account for my early return.
“Years later, Elsie told me she had also seen a bear in the forest behind the ranch. It could well be the same one. She didn't report it at the time because she guessed that the forest would be put out of bounds, and she didn't want our liberty to be curtailed.”
(Conclusion next week)
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