The story of Finn Slough

I rode my motorcycle past a woman with long gray hair arranging some stones in front of a wooden shack. Every inch of her little front yard was a collection of wood pieces, stones and small odd things collected from who knows where. Faded posters decorated the little shack. A blue bicycle was installed above the awning like some kind of decoration or a symbol, maybe.

I had entered a village of about twenty dilapidated wooden fishing shacks standing on pilings along a marshy section of the Fraser River, in British Columbia. It felt like I had stepped into another place or another time, like in a Louisiana bayou or a scene from Huckleberry Finn.

That name — Finn — is apt in this case, as I was to learn.

I had found this village by chance, riding my motorcycle south from Vancouver until I found myself in the city of Richmond, along a route laid out by surveyors with a name that never changed: “№5 Road”. The naming system is unimaginative, but it works, as New Yorkers and other big city dwellers may tell you. Other north-south arteries in Richmond are also numbered, while the east-west streets have been given historical names.

№5 Road features an astonishing array of places of worship all lined up along one side of the artery: from Sikh gurdwaras to an Islamic centre and several Buddhist temples, as well as religious academies, both Jewish and Christian. They’re living monuments to Canada’s multiculturalism. I was tempted to stop and visit these places because they are impressive buildings, clones of temples from other countries rebuilt here. I decided to look them up online and maybe come back on a rainy day. Instead I continued heading towards the river, down where the road meets the dike along the south arm of the river. I then leaned right as the route turned sharply west and I rode into the sun, basking in the welcome warmth of a cloudless April afternoon.

In a minute or two I found myself in the quiet of this place. A worn sign announces the Village of Finn Slough (pronounced “slew”). A board exhibits some old photos and a short history of the area. The notes are penned by David Dorrington, the local keeper of the Village’s history and archives.

The arrow marks the location of Finn Slough, on the south arm of the Fraser River

Built by immigrants

The settlement is named after a small group of Finnish people who made their home in south Richmond, arriving in the 1890s. They began as homesteaders and farmers but later earned their living as fishermen on the Fraser River. A contingent of Finns emigrated to Canada at the turn of the 20th century, a period when Finnish nationalism began to grow while under Russian rule. At that time the Grand Duchy of Finland was governed by the Tsarist Empire and the people had not yet won their independence.

These immigrants found a place to rebuild their lives here in the furthest reaches of the North American continent. The fishermen chose the slough as a place to moor their boats, hugged by the riverbank on one side and protected on the other by Gilmour Island, a thin sliver of land that parallels the shore.

While modern shipping today is very active in the centre of the river, the Village of Finn Slough has remained much as it was a hundred years ago, hidden behind the island. Only occasionally do the ripples from the big river reach the pilings under the wooden shacks. It’s marshy, muddy and grassy; a classical backwater. Images come to mind of Humphrey Bogart and Katharine Hepburn from the 1951 movie “The African Queen.”

According to Dorrington, in the period around 1910–1930 the fishing grounds in this area were so rich that the canneries downstream in nearby Steveston could not keep up with the large amounts of salmon the fishermen were bringing in. The community grew accordingly. However, by the 1940s logging had replaced fishing as the main industry and mills were built all along the river. Commercial river boats increased in number, especially tugs towing logs. Salmon stocks fell as a result of human activity on the waterway. Rock slides in canyons far upstream also choked spawning grounds.

Looking ahead

In our times, global warming is raising water levels and the natural decay of the wooden buildings is taking its toll. The small community of roughly thirty people is at risk.

While the municipality of Richmond has committed to protective dikes that keep the waters back from nearby agricultural and residential land, Finn Slough is on its own. Local officials say the Village is on the wrong side of the dike and consider the settlement a homesteader community. This puts the Village in jeopardy, as no local government will provide support for any growing environmental challenges. With water levels expected to rise, residents will have to decide if they will stay, find ways to raise the height of their homes and repair worn infrastructure. The municipality of Richmond considers Finn Slough a heritage area. Jurisdiction, however, sits with the Province of British Columbia. In 2017 the Province told representatives of the media that the Slough was “an area of unauthorized occupation.”

No matter how residents are labeled, they appear proud of their connection to the community’s history and natural setting. The village enjoys its relationship with the river. The billboard at the eastern edge of the settlement highlights that the area is a habitat for many intertidal species of plants, animals and migratory birds. It is also considered a safe haven for young salmon.

On the day I was there, passers-by walked their dogs or rode their bicycles along the road next to the village on the way to explore the South Dike Trail nearby. Some villagers don’t like those who linger. A number of “Keep Out” and “No Trespassing” signs appeal for privacy.

Heritage

Walking back to my motorcycle I felt a little sadness for the people who still live here. Maybe because it seems inevitable that time and nature will swallow up this little settlement. What seems quaint on the surface is really a fight for survival. I don’t think many fishermen are left here. Most of the boats are wrecked or in bad shape. The Village has all the hallmarks of a relic. Some residents are focused on producing paintings and working on crafts, not on rebuilding.

Will people still be here ten or twenty years from now? I think the question remains open.

David Dorrington mused about what the term “heritage” means to the community:

When I look at the Village of Finn Slough what I see is not just a collection of small sheds and float houses but a way of thinking and a way of living that has all but disappeared. The Village is quaint and by modern zoning standards eccentric which is why artists and photographers love it so much. Once there were dozens of such villages on the banks of the Fraser; now we are down to this last one. Sometimes people have a difficult time seeing these humble little buildings as heritage. Heritage is more often associated with the grand and ostentatious because those with money could afford to hire architects and make their buildings famous. However heritage is not only about saving large old buildings and putting artifacts into museums. More importantly heritage works by keeping alive valuable ideas by associating those ideas with real things, things you can see and touch and walk around.

-David Dorrington, Heritage Newsletter article on Finn Slough.

Cradling my helmet as I re-read the Village sign, I noted that the settlement’s motto is “Sisu.” It’s a Finnish word that can be translated as “perservance,” “tenacity,” “resilience” or “strength of will.”

I pressed the starter on my motorcycle, pulled up the side stand and turned north towards Vancouver, back to the traffic on modern city streets. I thought how strange it was to have taken an unexpected step back in time, and how difficult it must be to live there. Will Sisu be enough for the last residents of the Slough?

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