TRAVEL | British Columbia is beautiful, but a day in Gibsons, BC isn’t something I’d particularly recommend.

• City: Gibsons, BC
• Population: 4,205
• Location: A 40 minute ferry ride from Vancouver, on BC’s Sunshine Coast
• Transport: A grandpa-coloured Nissan Maxima, with Ontario plates

Welcome to Gibsons! It’s SUCH a nice place.

“It’s okay if I take the car right?” I’ve woken my boyfriend at around 8 a.m. on a Sunday and he’s a little confused. “I’ve gotta go to Gibsons.”

“What’s in Gibsons?” he asks.

“I dunno. They shot one of those old shows there – Beachcombers or something.”

“Oh yeah? See you tomorrow.”

He’s already asleep again by the time I leave.

Apparently, the idea of a day trip to Gibsons – Beachcombers or not – is less than exciting.

Let’s fact it: Gibsons is a small town.

Comprised of a touristy-type strip (Gibsons Landing) and a more traditional residential area (Upper Gibsons), if you’re not there to frolic in the great outdoors (biking, hiking, sailing, etc.) one day is more than enough do the whole sorry place.

Ritz Motel sign in Gibsons, BC.

Problem is, most of the people seeing the sights are octogenarians. There’s even a dedicated denture clinic along the main strip that’s open a full five days a week. Not an hour after arriving, I found myself wondering: where were all the young people?

“Still asleep, I suspect,” says Pauline Hogg, manager of the Ritz Inn (sometimes called the Ritz Motel, or even the Ritz Motor Lodge – to attract a varied clientele, I guess).

“But don’t worry,” she adds, “they’re here. They ride those terrible skateboards of theirs all over town. You can’t miss them.”

Unfortunately, miss them I did.

Only one youth slid by on his board over the course of the entire day. Pauline, though she meant well, was perhaps not the best source for the youth culture skinny.

I had better luck at the so-called antique market – a mishmash of everything from retro books, to nudie art to needlepoint Jesus pictures. (There was also an alluring sign outside that read “WOW Bra Creations” – but the bras themselves were nowhere to be found.)

The best people in Gibsons.

“Try the Blackfish Pub this evening,” says Laura Jamison, 26, a clerk at Candy-O Productions – the trendy second-hand shop she says is the Landing’s only real option for the under-40 set. “If you’re looking for kids, there’s also a mall up the hill.”

Ah, the mall. With little else to do, Gibsons teens do turn to shopping.

Two of them stop for a chat while perusing the purse selection at the Peoples Drug Mart.

“We’re not from here,” says one – a 14 year old named Cara. “We’re just visiting my grandparents.”

When I ask what she and her scantily clad friend do for fun, Cara’s pretty blasé. “Boat, tan, swim, you know,” she says. “In the evening, we hang out.”

Turns out, the people Cara and Co. hang with are generally older. Like, voting age and up.

“They let you hang out with them?” I ask.

She and her friend dissolve into a fit of giggles. “Of course!”

By evening, the Landing is pretty much deserted and the Blackfish seems like the only option.

Even the clerk at one of their competitors – Maria Vortsis of Gramma’s Cold Beer and Wine, purveyor of delightful beer cosies, suggests I hit up Blackfish.

She looks way too young to be selling booze and I tell her so.

“Ugh. I know. And I sell alcohol, right? So sometimes people are like – ‘can I see your two pieces of I.D.?’”

She says she may be heading to the Blackfish later herself. I say I’ll see her up there.

I adored having to consent to sexual harassment in the name of “journalism”. Note him pretending to grab my breast, and me shielding with a “stop” sign. Lovely.

Alas, I can’t manage to hang at the Blackfish for more than an hour. For one thing, it’s a Sunday. The crowd is … not a crowd. That said, a crew of boys make good drinking companions for a short while. They’re mostly 19, with one exception – a skeevy dude who keeps asking me to sit on his lap. When I tell him I really shouldn’t (since I’m working and all, and I wouldn’t want to get fired), he’s got the perfect comeback:

“I’ll fire you up, baby. Come on over here!”

The 19 year olds crack up.

A little later, when McSkeevy’s gone for another drink, I ask what his story is.

“Who? Miles?” says Stefan Pocock, a Gibsons native who defected to Vancouver, but was in town visiting his parents. “That guy’s not our friend. We just met him tonight. I don’t even know his last name. He’s funny though, right?”

Right.

I’m in bed by 10:30, easy. Gibsons sure is a good time.

City Guide Sidebar

Tourist map, Gibsons, BC.

The Blackfish Pub (on Hwy. 101, across from the Credit Union)

Ostensibly Gibson’s only 20-something’s drinking spot (but you can eat there too). The bartender, Stephanne Lardy, 35, tells me Friday’s usually their big night. “But to be honest with you, you probably wouldn’t want to be here on a Friday,” he says. “It gets a little scary … You’re not writing this down, are you?”

The Landing, Gramma’s Pub and Cold Beer and Wine (on Gibsons Landing Pier)

It’s dead while I’m there, but the locals assure me this sea-side style pub gets it’s fair share of visitors on a good night. Old guys named Smitty, mostly.

Candy-O Productions (at The Landing Antiques Mall)

Owned by a lady who actually works in the Vancouver film biz, all items in this shop were procured at film auctions. If big granny prints and hippie textiles aren’t for you, this is one of your only options.

Salvation Army (at the top of School Road)

It was Sunday, so the church-going folks from the Sally Anne weren’t around, but a quick peek through the window told me the local second hand shop might yield results. It didn’t look like it had been picked clean like the ones in the city.

Molly’s Reach restaurant sign, Gibsons, BC.

Molly’s Reach (on the main drag, by the pier)

If this restaurant was good enough for Relic, it’s good enough for me. Though Beachcombers is long dead, Molly’s lives on to serve up burgers, etc. If you didn’t know better, you’d never guess the place was originally just a set.

Gibsons Fish Market (The Landing, north side of the street)

This chip shop serves up traditional battered fillets, fries, and sandwiches that are pleasingly greasy. (They make your napkin see-through, which is how it should be.)

A version of this story published in Dose on August 25, 2005. See full clipping from the centre newspaper spread below. Also, I pulled out the section where they published my text messages (so not contrived at all!) so you could see it more clearly. NONSENSE. Sigh. Jump down below the clipping for some real-deal revelations from 2018.

Published in Dose, August 25, 2005.

Idiotic text messages from my day in Gibsons. Not contrived at all! Published in Dose, August 25, 2005.

2018: So, this was a “fun” story.

Douche bros in Gibsons, BC. Better or worse than douche bro bosses in Toronto? YOU DECIDE.

These “day trip” pieces were so wonderfully wacky, they came without warning. An editor would phone you up, in this case ON A FUCKING SUNDAY, and tell you where to go, and you’d have to go, immediately, without prep, and stay overnight in some godforsaken place.

Surely, a young reporter could receive overtime pay for such an assignment though, right?

NOPE.

Got kids? Tough. Got other responsibilities that aren’t your job? Tough.

Off you go! No car? Well, you’ll need one. Maybe we’ll reimburse you? Not sure. Maybe not. Are you 25? Can you even rent a car? That’s your problem!

Text in updates that we’ll use with your story, they said. You’re in for a full 24 hours of streeters with strangers!

HOO-FUCKING-RAY.

Things started to go wrong for me right away. I forgot my credit card.

And I’d driven all the way to the damn ferry before I realized. I panicked, being the little brown-noser I was, thinking an hour’s delay would be a huge deal, and thinking to prostrate myself, called my editor to confess and apologize. This was entirely unnecessary. I realized this only years later. I didn’t have to call, and could have sent in my idiotic text updates and he would never have known. Being conscientious, honest, or professional at Dose was pretty much always a waste of time. It was the people who turned in error-ridden incoherent copy (days late with no explanation), who said no to stupid assignments, or yes, but never delivered, who were men, who got ahead. My good girl attitude got me nothing but trouble.

Beautiful local scenery in Gibsons, BC.

Anyway, I called. And what do you think that jerk editor said?

He said, “No problem! I understand, we sprung this on you with no warning. An hour delay won’t make a difference. Just let me know when you’re there and check in when you can. ”

JUST KIDDING! Of course he didn’t.

That guy was such a piece of shit, all he did was chastise me with chilly silences and vague threats about my position and keeping my job. The lines “this is pretty unacceptable” and “mistakes add up” were trotted out. (Keep in mind that I’d made exactly zero previous “mistakes”.) My favourite thing he said was, “How did this happen?”

He wanted accountability, y’all.

How it happened was, you called me up with no notice ON A FUCKING SUNDAY. And then, even though I didn’t have a car, I had to drive to a far-off fucking ferry terminal, you didn’t give me any time to pack, and didn’t tell me in advance so I could be remotely prepared, you fucking monster. THAT’S HOW IT HAPPENED. AND NOW THERE’S A TINY DELAY THAT ‘S NOT EVEN A BIG DEAL, SO FUCKING RELAX.

I didn’t say that, though. I apologized profusely and told him I was an idiot. Because of course I did.

Smitty’s Marina sign, Gibsons, BC.

I really wish I could go back in time and shake my 25 year old self and tell her that she did not need to put up with all this bullshit, nor capitulate to these trash bag men.

Sigh. Live and learn? If you are a young person trapped in an unreasonable job that makes unreasonable demands, first off, I’m so sorry. Working culture is so fucked up and predicated on taking advantage of and threatening people like you. BUT THIS IS ALL BULLSHIT AND IT’S WRONG OF THEM TO DO IT TO YOU. Just know that.

Anyway. This article was trash. But at least I took some decent photos? Not that they used many of them.

The truth is that Gibsons was filled with white people who weren’t particularly nice to me, and I was afraid Dose wouldn’t reimburse me for expenses, so beyond quickly trying to do my job, I spent my time there hiding in my shitty hotel room and munching gas station pepperoni sticks. It was awful. Journalism is so glamourous, y’all. My irritation with the whole thing definitely seeps through in the piece, though, which is something, I guess.

The sunshine coast isn’t hideous. It can be beautiful. And I took some pretty pictures of the landscapes and local graffiti, which you can see in the gallery below.