This edition is brought to you by pure adrenaline, strong coffee and a Fat Boy Slim playlist. After this past weekend’s Edge of the World Music fest, there is only one thing on my mind (Other than sleep).
This is a true story.
I was young when my dad moved to Haida Gwaii and I immediately fell in love with the island. Having my dad here was a big reason, but those summers filled with long days on the beach and hikes through the woods searching for berries became the heartbeat of my childhood.
The Edge of the World Music Festival was the crown jewel of those summers. Back then, it took place in July at Elizabeth Inkster’s field and every year we were involved in some way. I remember sitting in fishing nets strung high between trees, listening to bands who are now considered “local legends’. I remember dancing barefoot in the mud with strangers who felt like family by the end of the night. For three days each summer, that field became more than a festival ground. It was Edge of the World, a place that felt like home.
As I grew older, I found other festivals to love. Music became a compass for my summers, guiding me through the Northern B.C. festival circuit, volunteering my way from one stage to the next. Somewhere in those years away, Edge of the World shifted. It moved from Inkster’s field to the Tlell Fall Fair Grounds and from July to August. The stage, the ocean air, the community spirit, all of it still waited, just in a new place.
One sunny afternoon after the Kispiox Music Festival in 2012, I scraped together gas money from a friend and made my way back. On the ferry, I fell in with a group of fellow travellers, all heading for that magical weekend at the edge of the continent.
That Friday night, after the stage went quiet, I wandered to the beach and found a roaring fire surrounded by laughter and music that refused to end. I sat on a log, passed around a bottle of wine, and without knowing it sat down next to my future husband. He drifted in and out of my weekend like a melody you cannot shake. On Sunday morning, while I was hunting for coffee, there he was again. Some people might have been suspicious. I got in his car and went for coffee.
Thirteen years later, we watch the festival from behind our vending booth, spinning cotton candy the size of small planets and chasing our young son through the grass. The music still floats through the trees, the ocean still hums at the edges, and the magic of Edge of the World still works on everyone who steps into that space.
Because Edge of the World is not just a festival. It is a meeting place for old friends and future loves, a heartbeat of this island, and a reminder that somewhere between the sea and the stage, you can still find pieces of yourself you did not know were missing. I left my heart at the Edge of the World and I think it plans to stay there.
Stacey
