As many of you might already know, Steve Lamb passed away on St. Patrick’s Day. He and Doban had just returned from his second favourite place - Lasqueti South, aka La Manzanilla - where Steve spent the last 8 out of 9 winters.  He was also fortunate enough to live with Seaborne, Noel and his new grandson Satori before he left. And although it was brief, at least he got to spend some time with Louis and his family upon returning.

   

Steve was many things to many people- a confidant, a father, a joker, a trusted friend, a lover of nature, great gardener, a cantankerous stubborn Scotsman. Anyone who truly got to know him saw all of this and more.

   

Arriving on Lasqueti in the late 1960s, he fell in love with the wild untamed island that it is. He put down roots and made it his home. Even though he travelled extensively and loved other places, he said he couldn’t imagine living anywhere other than his community of Lasqueti. His legacy is the beautiful Orchard and land he left his family, one of Lasqueti’s hidden gems.

   

A celebration of life will be arranged for later this season.

   

There are so many more things one could say about Steve to summarize his life, but for now we will say you are loved, and you will be missed.

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Sea Fever by John Masefield

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I must go down the seas again, to the lonely sea and

The sky.

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white

sail’s shaking.

And a gray mist on the sea’s face and a gray dawn breaking.

 

I must go down to the seas again , for the call of the

running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-

gulls crying.

 

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life.

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s

like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a meery yarn from a laughing fellow-

rover,

And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s

over.

 

Sweetly dreaming now, our beloved Stephen Lamb: July 22, 1943-March 17, 2024