Oh!
There must be a word for it. That instant when the opinion you hold very dearly suddenly turns dubious. For years, I have regarded Snug Cove as an historic site. The epicenter of Bowen life. Randomly evolved. Organic. Enduring. Most important, It seemed absolutely authentic and a place which I have come to love very much. Many islanders think just the opposite. They see a shabby eyesore, a malaise to be cured.
Strangely, the zeal of decades of planners and visionaries, there has been virtually no perceptible change in the cove for well over two decades. I have an old Undercurrent from the year 2000 which announces the formation a Snug Cove Task Force to review all the earlier Snug Cove Plans. The meetings asked for written comments to be dropped off to assist finalization of a Snug Cove Village plan. This seemed a threadbare process even then. Did every effort for change succumb to a mysterious passive resistance? And if so, why? If stagnation was seen, it should have resulted in pro activity. More likely, I suspect that Snug Cove simply found its groove and embraced its comfort zone,
Think of it this way: What we have in Snug Cove is a genuine rural main street running through a genuine seaside village. It is the last of its kind that you’ll find in close proximity to the urban sprawl. That has always seemed somehow significant to me. Here we have this easily reachable hidden anomaly that is such a delight to discover so nearby.
For visitors, it is a perfect point of decompression from city to country. It is unique precisely because it is the way it is. Not just another revamped Dundarave but someplace truly rural and rooted, instantly appealing because its authenticity is unmistakable. The warmth and funkiness cannot be fabricated. This village was never artificially themed like so many revitalized retail strips. Even now, it is free from gentrification or gridded uniformity. It just grew there like a wild garden. I doubt anyone would suggest letting the cove decompose. But there does seem no way to to preserve the fragile essence except to leave it alone. It has no real style to protect except the lack of style. It is a place you can like very much. If it goes, we will be watching the paradox of what happens to things quirky.
The word that changed my mind is “Oh!” I saw James Tuers’ drawings for the pub and I said, “oh.” There they are. New buildings, not as authentic and not as rural as the village but great. So this is the beginning, it is probably good for the cove to change. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe they’ll keep one eye on the soul of the old cove.
One last thing. I don’t know what I’m talking about and look forward to hearing the 101 goofy and byzantine reasons that nothing happened.
