Imagine having an island all to yourself for a week with no meetings, no interruptions, no responsibilities other than keeping yourself alive and working on your current work in progress. While it seems like a lovely daydream, it’s also entirely obtainable because of the good folks at Halls Island Artist Residency.
I had the great privilege in June to hole up on Hall’s Island and work on my current novel Understory. Thank you to the Ontario Arts Council for their continued support with this project. This allowed me the flexibility to attend this residency.
Outside writing area and one of the bunkies.
Halls Island is located in central Ontario, in Haliburton Hills area a few hour north of Toronto. It was about a five hour drive for me, but I understand other attendees later in the summer would be travelling from much further afield.
The residency began with a short boat ride across Koshlong lake on a pontoon laden with my myriad belongings. Ed the ferryman, a lovely gent in a feud with the very boat he captained, very kindly helped me with my encumbrances and gave me the low down of my temporary home, showing me the facilities, the solar and water set ups, any emergency procedures. Then he left me to get settled, cursing the boat as he sailed off into the distance.
Halls caters to a variety of artists. I attended on my own, but the island has also hosted co-artists and small music groups before. There’s a primary cabin with sleeping quarters, as well as outbuilding bunkies available. As suggested by Ed, I chose the bunkie up the hill with the writing desk and the gorgeous views of the lake.
Somehow they made mosquito netting look rather romantic!
Halls hosted multiple residencies throughout the summer and I believed mine was the first or the second of the year, in mid-June. When I found out I had been offered a residency spot I was overjoyed, but I cursed myself when I found out what week I’d been allotted. The main reason was that it overlapped with the residency I would be attending in Winnipeg at the end of the month. When I applied I had no idea when, or if, I’d be attending either. The Halls Island council was kindly accommodating and worked with me to find a solution for this. I only ended up on the island for eight days, while a standard stay was ten, but it at least allowed me to attend both residencies.
The second reason was that, as an Ontarian, I know how unpredictable June weather can be in this part of the world. And June didn’t disappoint, with the first three nights of my stay going down to about 5 degrees celsius, then shooting up over thirty degrees for one of the worst heat waves we’ve had in years. Days were in the 40s (about 105 fahrenheit) , with nights still around 21 degrees. Needless to say, I went for several dips in the lake throughout the day and sat around in wet clothes so I didn’t overheat. I will admit, I didn’t get as much writing done during that period as I had planned, but I still made some progress.
Most days on the island started with me waking up around 7:30/8, making myself an oat latte using the French press and then writing for an hour or so. On the hot days, I took a dip after that before I had breakfast. After that, I’d do a little walk around the island (which took less than five minutes) before I got back to writing or reading. If it was hot, I enjoyed afternoon naps with the fan blasting on my wet clothes. On the last hot day, there was a gorgeous thunderstorm. The gales bent the trees and when the lightning hit close to the island the thunder rattled the cottage.
Clip of rainstorm from the window of the cabin up the hill. It’s so foggy you can barely see the islands across the bay
In the evenings I swam and listened to forest horror audiobooks as I cooked my dinners, some of which were more successful than others. You must bring all the food you need for your stay with you and best to bring anything else you need to cook as well (spices and oil/vinegar). They do have a pantry of bits and bobs folk have left, but the stock is a mystery until you arrive.
I barbecued for the first time in my life: salmon, corn and sweet potatoes. One warm dinner; one cold leftovers. Hindsight: I shouldn’t have foiled up the po-tay-toes but they were still ok, if a bit damp.
One of the reasons I wanted to attend this residency was because I thought the immersion and isolation would help me with the vibe of my novel, which is a forest horror book. Alas, the island was too lovely to evoke that kind of atmosphere, except at night when I had to run down the hill to the outhouse. That was definitely the spookiest part of being there alone. Even though they promised there was no wildlife, I kept expecting to run into a bear en route to the compost toilet. Being from northern Ontario where we often have bears just walking down the road, it was eerie to only have chipmunks, spiders and mosquitoes in residence with me.
While the night trips were always a little unnerving, they were also sort of magical because of the solar lights that illuminated the path from the cabin down to the John.
Dwell, linger, stay: messages from Halls. the writing nook where I worked
I wish I’d taken more photos. As ever, I'm someone who prefers to experience the moment unmediated. The main cabin was where I cooked, ate my meals, and hid from the sun. There were resources and relics from attendees past which I would’ve liked to document.
On the final day, the pontoon came back for me with a new captain and crew. The first people (and dog!) I’d seen in a week. As we chugged back to the mainland, I realised I was happy to be venturing back into semblance of civilisation. Even for introverts, it can be a challenge being by yourself for a long, uninterrupted period of time. But it didn’t take long to get my fill of hustle and bustle before I was longing for the focused simplicity of the island.