Fernwood Road
The intersection of Hillside Avenue and Cedar Hill Road is a fling-arms-wide-and-turn-completely-around kind of place; as much as for what is, as for what is not. What hills? What side? Cedars? There are distant glimpses of hills and mountains, (Tolmie and Doug – I think. And, as an aside to an aside, if I were as impressive as Mt. Doug I’d want to be known as Douglas!), but it is far more than that going on here.
Face north (with your back to Fat Choy’s market if you need this orienting) and look left toward those sooty Sooke Hills. (They may be in Metchosin but “sooty” doesn’t’ soot – I mean, suit Metchosin as an alliterative adjective as it does Sooke; also it’s a phrase in a song I wrote so let it stand, facts ignored). Those hills are soot-hing as well!
Hillside Avenue curves out of sight, to the left, past the gaily-coloured condos, traces itself busily across uppertown (as opposed to downtown Victoria) to the spider-leg streets-crossing at Douglas and Government, and relaxes in a halt at Turner Street over in the Rock Bay area. (Doesn’t Rock Bay conjure an image!)
If you don’t know this (about Hillside Avenue) you might think it changes name to the Gorge and ambles all the way to Admirals Road along the prettiest of waterways. It doesn’t. It ends at Turner.
But we are bodily at Hillside and Cedar Hill Road so now look to the right. Hillside swoops importantly (and this sense of importance seems to have to do with the straight roadway, straight buildings, no trees or curves or roundness!) down a hill (as opposed to the hill of which it could be beside but is not) toward Shelbourne. The sound of car tires sing “to the mall, to the mall, to the mall, mall, mall…!” because there is a big one, Hillside Mall, at Shelbourne.
Beyond Shelbourne, Hillside Avenue turns into Lansdowne Avenue (of course!) and really does then become hillside beyond Foul Bay Road where the views to the south are so outstanding I wonder if people in those houses have to ignore them or close their curtains to get anything done!
Past Cordova Bay Road (and there are golfers on the Uplands Golf Course at this intersection every day of the year, it seems) Lansdowne stays Lansdowne (somebody slipped up here!) but enters a grand area which could be called Cathedral Grove if the name was not already in use up Island. Finally Lansdowne ends at the ocean – or with a “view of” as the realtors say. So Hillside Avenue is really far flung!
Back to Fernwood. Cedar Hill Road curves out of sight to the north and will dogsleg (where did this expression originate! – I understand the dogsleg comparison but I wonder who first used it and where and why??!!) through an interesting area, then make a sudden right turn (a left turn will immediately bring you up a hill to Cook Street and the worst left turn in town), not change its name (imagine!) and continue on in a meandering sort of way to finally end up at Mt. Douglas – uh – Doug.
But we are still at Cedar Hill Road and Hillside. (Amazing how much of a ‘stroll’ you can do standing in one place.) Turn around and look behind you, southwise. Cedar Hill Road enters Fernwood on a curve also.
That’s a Ponderosa pine with its three-needle clump, on the left, outside the apartment building. It is so large and yet so lacey. I tracked one down once and planted it in the garden at the house on Cedar Hill, inspired by this very tree at which we are now gazing. In one of the books I perused for information on the tree I was advised against putting it in a city garden as the “cones are very large and falling ones could do damage.” I was enchanted by this warning and decided to take my chances. Alas, I moved from the house before the danger could ‘grow’ to a danger. Also, I think the tree got moved so it may well be a cheerful menace somewhere else.
NO TIME LIKE THE PRESENT it says on a colorful mural on a garage door at the base of Hespler Place. A nice reminder anywhere, anytime, and in this particular place it does make me wonder at its origins and originator. Just beyond the garage is a bark chip path that strolls to the left and deposits you at the meeting of Ivy and Ryan Streets. Idle up Ivy. Two houses capture my notice and require further considering; a pigeon-gray flat top with red brick accents and neat balconies; and an end-of-road surprise house (“surprise, I’m here!” sort of aspect) whose steep driveway I nearly tumble down as I turn my bike around while taking in the scenery.
Back at Ryan you can just catch a glimpse of the raspberry-shaded house on Roseberry – trot along a bit and look closer. (Yes, it is on Walk One but another viewing is worthwhile). It is so cheerful looking. Today there are masses of golden mums in the garden giving quite a glow.
If you continue along Ryan you’ll come across a very nice Art Deco house (or do I mean Nouveau – you’ll either know and ‘inform’ me which it is – or it won’t matter) . Down the hill – you have to brace-walk down it and watch for acorns if it is autumn – is the ‘country’ church where they have the Fall Fair.
Back on Cedar Hill Road. The Jewish Cemetery. It looks like it has been here forever – not because the grave markers are terrifically worn, no, it’s more a feeling of purposeful permanence, somehow. But I suppose a cemetery implies that a village or town was in effect or else why the need. In any case it is a peaceful sort of spot for a reflective stroll or a quiet rest. I take my knitting here but usually find my hands go still and I just sit.
Cedar Hill Road suddenly moseys to the right at this point, which is fine if you know about this, otherwise you just assume (and why not!) that the road that continues straight is Cedar Hill but actually this is the start of Fernwood Road.
When I lived on Cedar Hill Road, in spite of my picky-picky directions, guests coming to visit for the first time were often confused – and late! – having not allowed extra time for getting un-confused. One time – I kid you not – the people at the same address on Fernwood as I was on Cedar Hill nearly had their furnace removed!
But we are on Fernwood now. Right? Before us is a long straight road about to dip down a hill? Back track a bit if not.
On the right, just after Oaklands Chapel which is on the triangle of Cedar Hill and Fernwood Roads, there is an exquisite small garden with water dripping into a pond from a bamboo trough. You can hear the water before you see it and I cheerfully anticipate ‘catching ear’ of the sound whenever I walk along the street toward it. The pond is complemented by Japanese maples and ferns, two rosemary bushes, and seriously beautiful rocks . The sound and sight are so refreshing; a half log on a slab of stone looks very inviting but I have only ever mentally sat – it is not publicly situated. I did chat with a woman here once and she told me her brother had made it. Funny how you can suddenly feel quite friendly toward someone you have never met!
Walk past Kings Road and start down the hill. A house on the right has a large satellite on the roof and a multitude of Buddist prayer flags – wonderful combination of ‘communications’.
Then there are many houses with verandahs; so welcoming in looks and beneficial in a practical sense as well: cool in hot weather, sun catchers in cool weather. A tiny arched verandah off the second floor of one is doubly appealing. Star catcher!
A man rides by on a small bike effortlessly wheeling another bike beside him. How does he do that?!
We come to Haultain and can catch breath after the walk down the hill. Those are Emperor trees (Pawlonia) on the south west corner boulevard. Glorious blue flowers in the spring. Textured bobbles in leafless months. They don’t seem to be common in Victoria and more would be such a pleasure to this City of Flowers.
A baby monkey puzzle tree is in the front yard of the house on the corner. It’s not often I have had a side view of one. Usually I have to look up – way up.
In the next block, on the left hand side, at 2527 Fernwood, there is a Pumpkin Fest each year. I have never gone but hear it is quite wonderful with many carved pumpkins – Jack’o’lanterns, then, I guess – shining around in the garden.
* Halloween October 2005 I attend. It is magical. More than one hundred incredibly-carved pumpkins in several (spooky!) settings along the driveway, in the front and backyard. This is the ninth year! How could I have missed the first eight! A labor of love by a handful of people. I look forward to next year already.
Bay and Fernwood again. Continue along Fernwood. One of the houses on the left used to be a Norwegian bakery. I’m not sure which. Take John Adam’s Fernwood tour to find out.
I love the harvest of plums from the trees leaning over the long and high hedge along the east side of Fernwood just here.
The perfectly-restored and -painted house on the corner of Fernwood and Denman calls for notice. And take in 2208 Fernwood with its tiny, fulsome garden; at time of writing the apple tree in the corner is so laden with fruit that I am amazed it is not lying on the ground in exhaustion.
At 2211 Fernwood (and what a wonderful house number – master numbers) the chain link fence and fast growing conifers are doubly ‘hedging’. Next door at 2207 is a child’s paint-box-colored house – startling and cheerful and cheeky. Brilliant green, vibrant blue, outrageous orange, mustard yellow. The natural front garden has a goodly variety of ornamental grasses.
Look right along Centre Road. There are two narrow houses that made news for their size when constructed . The ‘sort of’ row house across the street from them is said to have been a pickle factory at some point in its existence.
At the end of Centre, on Ridge Road, is a heritage house, looking great, rather dwarfed now by apartment buildings and I’ve had a wonder if it ‘lifts’ its surroundings with its presence or do those ‘newcomer upstarts’ get it ‘down.’? I find it hard to imagine it as it must have been with land around it – but it must have been.
Another large house on a small property occupies the corner of Fernwood and Pembroke. It has been slowly and painstakingly restored over the past year or so. How would you describe the main colour? I am at a loss to come up with one and as I ‘give up’ – “foggy green” comes to mind.
I have gotten ahead of myself. Cast your eyes back to the house set back on the property at 2109 Fernwood. Having once lived in a house set at the back of a lot and enjoyed the wonderful benefits of gazing across backyards instead directly at and into another house, having light and air all around – well, I have sought such situations in later houses. It is so worthwhile and I wish new developments could be staggered. It makes sense aesthetically but not economically, I‘ve been told. Shucks. It has made me view with interest and appreciation houses that are set, ‘way back’, as this one is.
Back along Fernwood to Gower Park which provides a very effective ‘traffic curb’ (meaning “you can’t get to there from here, honey”) on Pembroke Street: cars have to make quite a detour to continue east along Pembroke. Gower Park has two pear trees in great abundance at the moment. Some witty person has put a cardboard box on the ground under those trees in the midst of all that fallen fruit with a sign stating, “Free pears.” Come to think of it, maybe the person was not trying to be funny but simply stating the obvious to those of us who benefit from – well, having the obvious stated. How come there is humor in the obvious? How come we are tickled, not poked? Nah – can’t be just me……
I sit on a bench in Gower Park (there are two provided – I love it when seating is not stingy in any setting – we need as many places to sit and rest or sit and observe or sit and chat as possible in life) and munch on a pear. Delicious! And I give some mind space to an Agatha Christie book I find lying on the ground – “Double Sin and Other Stories”. Someone has put a match (lighter, more likely) to it and succeeded in singeing a few of the pages. What a mystery! Didn’t they like the ending? Did some burning issue ignite their angst and anger? Did they feel the need to light up the night?
By the by – I find the small ‘green’ pears more to my liking than the larger, riper ones. They seem to have more flavor and the soft ones leave a bit of a chemical taste on my tongue. Interesting how individual is the perception of our tongue. Is it universal? genetic? or did someone at some point in my life make a face while eating a ripe pear and then happily eat a green one, thus setting my preference.
It’s a weekday mid-morning as I sit here in the Park and there is very little traffic on the road in spite of Fernwood being a rather major and direct route from one part of Victoria to another. I find I look at each car or truck as it passes and seem to make eye contact with most drivers or passengers which does not happen on a busy street with much to’ing and fro’ing.
As I sit I gaze along Fernwood at the houses and notice one on the left with textured white curtains that appeal to the fibre artist me; they remind me of some Ikea curtains that I turned into a pair of slacks. I have not worn these for many months and if I pay attention to what I overheard one woman in a clothing store, yesterday, say to another – “Well, it’s September now so white is out.” – then I guess those pants will have to wait on next year.
A man ambles by, picks up some pears, tells me about an outdoor movie at the Fernwood Center that evening, ambles away. I did note that he also chose green pears and I suspect his doing so was to provide a bit of a lasting quality to the fruit for later consumption rather than the immediate taste. He was a passerby rather than one engaged in conversation. You know what I mean.
The intersection of Fernwood and Gladstone (downtown Fernwood) is dealt with in Walk Three so lets tunnel-vision smartly by and emerge with eyes-a’peering past the Belfry.
Regard the houses on the corner of Vining and Fernwood. They are nifty observed ‘each on its own’ and niftiest in a ‘coupled awareness’. The one on the left is artist fodder, flat-roofed, brick and stone detailed. The one on the right looks like a double wide/double wide mobile home that stopped to rest and stayed. I can imagine these two very diverse housing structures nodding together in amiable familiarity as they watch the activity on the tennis courts kiddy-corner (or is it kitty-corner?) (whichever it is, how on earth did that term originate!?) across the street.
It amused and delighted me that people could play tennis year round in Victoria when I first moved here from Ontario where golf courses and tennis courts close down for the winter. It amazes me, now, that those tennis courts are not daily in use. Do you suppose it is because they can be? It makes, sort of, sense, this ‘if you can play every day then there is no need to play every day’ notion. Doesn’t it. Rhetorical question.
Vic High is next. Victoria High School to give it full title. Isn’t it impressive. That huge square building set on that huge square piece of land. Somehow the position on the corner adds to the drama. Maybe feng shui could explain this; the site sort of arrows out on that corner. I haven’t had many opportunities to go inside Vic High but when I have I have felt rather awed. A cathedral-of-learning atmosphere. But I think it is my memory that supplies the smell of chalk dust and waxed wooden floors, wet wool drying on hot radiators that occasionally make a ping! sound, the stillness of long hallways and high ceilings. Schools of my schooldays, fifty years ago.
Across the street is a house with a rather ‘surprised’ look to it caused by the pointy ‘raised eyebrow’ peaks over two of the windows. A vista eastward is visible along the side and makes me hope there is a rear verandah as well.
On the next corner at Balmoral is a huge, gorgeous house. It’s covered in the Fernwood Heritage Tour. Note the six birdhouses along the side. And step a few feet along Balmoral and see the miniature house with its cupola, verandah, sunroom. It seems you have to like something quite a lot to reproduce it in miniature. At least that has been my experience. Whenever I have made something on a scale of 1:12 for my dollhouse it has been a labor of love.
Across from this house is the Orange Hall. It’s not orange, the three year old in me declares. Oh, sigh. Then the adult in me allows that life is enhanced by allowing for and acknowledging and being amused by the fact that we are a compound of each age we have experienced. How weird to think we leave an age behind – we just add to it!
As you approach Pandora you’ll catch sight of two buildings and the words caramel and toffee come to mind, caramel on Fernwood, toffee on Pandora. Such a flavor can be achieved by color – stand for a moment and consider what the feeling might be had those buildings been painted, say, gray with black trim, or pastel pink, or brilliant blue. See what I mean. As an aside – the ability to visualize color in such a situation seems to me a gift, one I possess in imagination, not actually in reality. Often I am surprised when reality is superimposed on what I imagined the reality would be.
Across the street on the south-west corner of Fernwood and Pandora is an apartment building with a bubble window that has made me, over the years, look up at it to see what it is – well, bubbling. At the moment it is a fish mobile and I don’t recall exactly what has been showcased there over the years – my memory fails me on details but does supply me with the notion that other items have been found worthy of thus displaying. So I continue to check it out. Would it surprise me should someone tell me that the same fish mobile has been there across the past fifteen years. Oh – likely.
The trees across Fernwood – under which I am standing to check out the bubble window – are a chummy pair, nicely intertwined but seeming to be gazing outward at the world from this companionable stance. They are chock-full of blossoms in the spring.
The block between Pandora and Johnson is shoulder-to-shoulder great gorgeous houses – many fairly recently refurbished to former glory with paint and restoration but I do wonder at their proximity to each other and the street. Maybe Victoria had a building boom and lot size in Fernwood was limited. The greenery surrounding the houses softens any feeling of being overly-crowded. And, like the marvelous magic of (most!) pot luck suppers where not everyone brings potato salad but a harmonious mixture of items, the colors on these houses sing together nicely.
‘Odd man out’ in the midst of all the Victorian ladies is the pinkish-hued building at 1425 Fernwood which, I am told, was once a single family home but turned into apartments a long time ago. The conversion has taken away all the feminine aspects and what is left is a square, lantern-jawed structure. It overlooks Rudlin Street. Rather grandly, I think.
The wild spring salmon-colored house at 1418 Fernwood used to be a youth hostel and I can remember riding the bus alongside heavily-laden backpackers who would be peering anxiously out the bus windows watching for the address. Young people could also be seen lounging on the verandah and chatting each with each. I used to wonder where they had come from and liked to listen to their accents as they spoke. The house looks ‘tidier’ now – but it has lost that hostel charm.
There’s a butterfly bush still in partial blue bloom growing from a crack between the sidewalk and cement in front of Connor Financial Corporation at 1405 Fernwood. This touches me and I sit for a time by it on the cement wall, choose a spot that is sun-warmed because the cement in the shade is cool and it is, after all, September.
1325 Fernwood also has a stone wall but it does not invite sitting – the rocks are large and pointy.
1321 reminds me of Belize – it looks sort of like holiday lodgings running perpendicular to the road. I think it is apartments or townhouses.
On the corner of Fernwood and Yates is a huge house that suggests earlier times as some houses can evoke history. It was beautifully restored a few years ago. It looks lovely. I wonder what it is like in the Tower Room. And the sunroom looks appealing but I have not actually ever seen anyone sitting in it.
This house ‘watches’ Central Middle School across the road. CMS is not as impressive as its counterpart Vic High down the road but it’s where students go first, before Vic High, so maybe this has been taken into account.
Fort and Fernwood. End of the (Fernwood) Road.
You can’t see it from here but the Castle (Craigdarroch) is within a stone’s throw. (Well, depending on who is throwing the stone, I suppose, but close by.)
Look left and see the sign – a small green one with an arrow, pointing up Joan Crescent. And usually you will see people going and coming with that touristy look, guidebook or brochure in hand.
We are now at the other end of Fernwood. A #22 Haultain bus will take you most of the way back toward where we started – it turns right at Haultain so you will have to get off there and walk the last two blocks or so up the hill. You can catch the bus on Fernwood across from Central Middle School and do the walk in reverse from the comfort of a bus.