Finn Slough

Nestled on the banks of the Fraser River in Steveston, British Columbia Canada, there is a very unique and picturesque little fishing village known as Finn Slough. Its story is one of history, resilience, and community spirit that has defined the area for over a century.


I ventured out there this week, to document this most fascinating community. Most of the photos below were taken with a Hasselblad 500 cm on Ilford HP5 medium format film. The residents are very private but I managed to talk with one fellow who has lived in the Slough for “many years”. Unfortunately he declined to be named or have his photo taken but the time he spent with me was invaluable as there is little documentation about the Slough.


Finn Slough traces its origins back to the late 1800’s when Scandinavian and Irish settlers arrived in Steveston, seeking opportunities in the growing fishing industry. The village became a hub of activity, with its wooden houses perched on stilts above the muddy inter-tidal marshland.


The name “Finn Slough” originates from the Finnish settlers who called this place home. They were primarily fishermen, drawn to the abundant salmon runs in the Fraser River. The Finnish community grew, and soon, other European immigrants joined them. Together, they built a tight-knit community bound by their shared passion for fishing and the river.


In those early years, Finn Slough thrived, with fishing boats dotting the river and the sound of seagulls filling the air. Families would gather on the docks, repairing nets and preparing for the next catch. Life revolved around the tides, the seasons, and the unpredictable nature of the river.

However, as time passed, the modern world began to encroach upon the quiet haven of Finn Slough. Industrialization, urban development, and changes in the fishing industry brought challenges to the community. The once-bustling fishing village found itself facing a decline in fish stocks, stricter regulations, and pressure from land developers eager to claim the waterfront area.


Despite these challenges, the residents of Finn Slough refuse to let their beloved village fade into obscurity. They banded together, forming the Finn Slough Heritage and Wetland Society in the 1980’s, to preserve their unique way of life and protect the marshland that serves as home for both residents and wildlife alike.


Over the years, Finn Slough has become a symbol of resistance and a haven for artists, environmentalists, and nature lovers. Its ramshackle buildings, weathered and worn, exude a rustic charm that continues to draw visitors from far and wide. The village has served as an inspiration for painters, photographers, and writers, capturing its timeless beauty and celebrating its historical significance.

Today, Finn Slough stands as a living testament to the resilience of its community. Its wooden structures, held together by the collective efforts of its residents, continues to defy the passage of time.


Finn Slough tends to be very private, and no trespassing signs abound. However, visitors can freely stroll the road adjacent to the village to admire the unique architecture, and appreciate the peaceful serenity of the marshland. On occasion, I’ve encountered residents who are more than willing to share stories of the community past and present.


Finn Slough is a reminder that even in the face of change, some places hold steadfast to their roots. It’s a special place where the past and the present harmoniously coexist. As the sun sets over the Fraser River, casting a warm glow upon the village, the story of Finn Slough continues to unfold, inviting future generations to write their own chapters in its remarkable history.

Donovan


I’ve spent a bit part of my life working and teaching in the field of emergency health care.  This day I was teaching a particular course that has a well earned reputation for being very intense. The subjects are complex, time is short and patients lives are at stake. I had a student in the class who was younger than most, but very  quiet and reserved. Each day students would scatter like ants when I released them for lunch. One day I saw Donovan sitting alone in an unoccupied classroom with the lights off. He was hunched over an old leather bound book by the light of a window. He appeared to be writing or drawing. I quietly entered and asked if everything was ok. He looked up and smiled, offering to show me what he was working on. The old book with its well worn pages, was a collection of varied and beautiful pencil sketches. He explained that in times of stress or pressure, he likes to sketch. He explained that his art helps him to focus and clear his mind for the demands ahead.

The circumstances that paramedics, ER nurses and physicians face each day, take their toll, and for many the cumulative effect over time becomes too much. There are so many in this field that have walked away from their career or been driven to self destruction and even suicide due to the effects of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I’ve somehow escaped that same fate, due in no small part to my own “art”. There were many times when I would come home from work, numb from the stress and long hours demanding everything I have till there was nothing left. I would often grab my camera (my art) and just go shoot photos .. any photos …the subject didn’t matter. Looking through the viewfinder and composing my shot, gave me a brief respite from the stresses of my work. In short order I returned back to the real world and put my camera back in its closet. Nothing had really changed, but that brief interlude gave me a much needed break. It calmed my thoughts and helped me to focus and clear my mind to face another day.

As I watched Donavan sketch, I put my hand on his shoulder and told him “Never let that go! It’s your life preserver that will keep you afloat through the rough times”. I asked if he would mind if I shot a quick portrait to remember that moment. He said “sure” and quietly returned to his book. I shot this single frame and left him to his peace.

Leica Freedom Train

This is a photo of a camera but not just any camera. It’s one that is very special to me. Not just because it’s gorgeous and takes beautiful photos. Not just because Leica was the pioneer in 35mm photography, but much more than that. This camera saved lives, so many lives! It’s not just a camera it’s  symbol of freedom from tyranny!


Let’s go back in time to 1933. Adolph Hitler has been named chancellor of Germany and Ernst Leitz headed a German company, Leitz Inc, that was an internationally recognized brand that reflected credit on Germany. The company produced very high quality cameras, range-finders and other optical systems used by so many around the world, including the German military. In addition, the cash hungry Nazi government desperately needed income from abroad and Leitz’s single biggest market for their optical equipment was the cash rich United States. Leitz was a powerful man, and Leitz Inc (Leica) was a company that was essential to the German economy and military.

As Hitler ramped up his reign of terror, Leitz began to receive calls for help from Jewish employees and associates. They were asking Leitz to help get them, and their families, out of Hitlers reach.  Leitz despised the Nazi’s and feared what was happening to his country. He knew he had to help, but how? Leitz soon established a system to covertly get Jews out of Germany under the pretence of being Leica employees that were being assigned to Leitz offices in France, Britain, Hong Kong, Canada and the United States.

To add credibility to their story, each employee was given a Leica III much like the one in the photo above. These cameras were considered to be the best in the world and as such they were very expensive! Anyone carrying one had to either be very wealthy, or an official representative of Leica. These families had to leave everything behind, so they left Germany with only what could fit in a suitcase. Leitz directed that once relocated, they could sell the camera to provide them with financial resources to rebuild their lives in their new home. In addition they were paid a stipend by Leica until they became established and could support themselves. Many continued to actually work for Leica in their new country, working as repair technicians, sales representatives and management.

This rescue effort wasn’t without cost. Members of the Leitz family and firm suffered for their good works. A top executive, Alfred Turk, was jailed for working to help Jews, and freed only after Leitz paid a substantial bribe. Leitz’s daughter Elsie, was imprisoned by the Gestapo after she was caught at the border, helping Jewish women cross into Switzerland . She eventually was freed but endured torture in the course of questioning. She also fell under suspicion when she attempted to improve the living conditions of 700 to 800 Ukrainian slave labourers during the 1940s.

The story of the Leica Freedom Train was kept quiet as the Leitz family wanted no reward or acknowledgement. Leitz felt they simply did what was necessary and that so many sacrificed so much more.

Every time I use my Leica III, I think of the other photographers that have used this camera over the many decades. Who were they? What were their stories? I’m only one photographer in a long chain and one day it will move to its next caretaker.