A long the easternmost stretches of Dyke Road rests a rather unorthodox neighbourhood that can only be spotted by looking down.
Above, on the road, the incessant thudding of cars on the Alex Fraser Bridge can be heard in the distance while the roars of Highway 91 presents a subtle but constant white noise.
But dip under the dyke and you’ll only hear birds chirping in this niche neighbourhood of roughly 50 people living on floating houses or boats along the tree-lined Annacis Channel of the Fraser River.
For 33 years, Dorothy Leighton, June Jorgensen, and Caroline Brett have been neighbours. They are the last of the original 19 folks who bought the land along the shore in the early 1980s to establish their right to live and pay taxes there.
It wasn’t always smooth sailing. In the 1970s, much of the Fraser’s shoreline was full of squatting fishermen.
“It was a funky old place, believe me. When you walked on the docks, you didn’t know if you’d fall below,” chuckles Leighton.
“I don’t know how I ended up here actually, you know, when I think back on it, it really was crappy. The druggie that was running it, he was into drugs, the poor thing,” sighs Brett.
Yet, despite some growing pains, the neighbourhood prevailed. The docks got mended, electricity was connected, and water and sewer pipes provided proper sanitation.
“The people who bought in were all professionals: landscape architects, civil engineers, social worker, you know,” explains Leighton.
“Jim, of course, the engineer,” chimes Brett, who worked with Leighton as nurses in Vancouver.
“Oh yes, the chief estimator,” replies Leighton.
They all know one another, the three explained.
“People aren’t as flakey as they used to be, what with people living on dingy boats,” says Leighton.
Jorgensen said if one word explained the people of this area, it would be “eclectic.”
Ask them about stories and they’ll inevitably frame them around big developments that have sprung up around them: the bridge in 1986, an industrial park in the early 1990s, and the relatively recent Walmart in Queensborough.
And the changes continue: the City of Richmond may expand the cycling and pedestrian route on the road, and residents are fearful of a truck company moving in across the road and disturbing the peace.
Amidst the changes, they still get to see Richmond through a different lens, says Jorgensen.
“One night (in the 1980s) the river was frozen and suddenly the weight of the house broke the ice and I dropped a couple of feet,” she chuckles.
And, it’s still very quiet — sometimes.
“Occasionally we hear the sirens over there, you know, the turkeys driving the police mad,” said Brett pointing to Annacis Island.
