Power of Permanence

By Charles Hattemer

I've never been very aware of the enjoyment and satisfaction of building physical structures beyond legos and pillow forts, until two weeks ago, when I got super excited about a bunch of concrete footers at Hull Island. Our mission: begin work on the first human structure--a small utility shed and cabin.

After a two-hour boat ride from Port McNeill, BC, we arrived at the island, unloaded all the gear, and discovered a big pile of black bear shit. Way to start things off strong... After settling in and doing some exploration the first couple days, we begin work on nine foundational footers for the shed. We dug nine holes deep enough to hit big rocks (or maybe the island itself) in the ground. These were the spots for each concrete footer. Using a water level (thank you Archimedes), we lined everything up just right--measuring all lengths at least 3 or 4 times. Jon carefully placed his handmade footer forms (with chamfers) in each hole. Collecting gravel and small rocks on the beach, we washed away the salt to allow a closer bond with the concrete and leveled out each footer. Then, we hauled 1200lbs of concrete via boat from the nearest Port 2hrs away and brought it back to the island. Along the way, we trapped some Dungeness crab--yum.

We mixed the concrete, cut rebar pieces for improved structure, and poured the whole mix into each footer--carefully smoothing the top for optimal strength in the foundation. Each part of the process was tweaked, optimized, and executed on as a team.

We were a machine, getting the nine footers done across 4 days. As the concrete dried, we measured a few more times just to be sure. Jon noted one of the corners was off by a 64th of an inch...he says with a wink, "I think it'll be ok." We were all ecstatic about the pouring and completion of the final footer.

Who knew it was possible to get excited about a bunch of concrete blocks in the ground.
As we sat around planning our next adventure, the lone neighbor of Hull Island comes roaring up in his aluminum WWII landing craft and the front door slams down on the rock beach around the corner. His dogs coming galloping up the trail with Don the Canadian man close behind. Don strolls up to the footers,
"Well what-a-ya got here?" After explaining the careful design and layout of the footers and the future shed on this site, Don nods his head and glanced around once more. "Good gosh Jon, why’d you go doing that? You didn't have to go building the footers--everyone 'round here just builds it on a log."
A pause of silence...
In learning a bit more about what Don meant when he said that, he made it clear that many of the structures on other local islands are built on massive cedar logs—not permanent foundations such as concrete. His comment made me realize why I was so excited about these damn concrete blocks. It was the permanence and long-term implications of our contributions.

This land is a canvas, and we were painting the first strokes of a permanent structure. It was the environment we created, working together towards one common mission—something my brothers and I had not been able to do together for quite some time. We talked about leave-no-trace camping. This experience was leave YOUR trace—and for once that felt OK. 

My Uncle Jon is to thank for this incredible experience. His passion for engineering, building, and precision design are an inspiration to me. Jon worked for 30 years at Boeing. He started in tool design on the factory floor, creating the clever mechanisms and tools used to machine aluminum for airplanes. That career eventually took him into managing supply chain logistics and operations across the world for Boeing. The same feeling I got from building those footers was one I felt when he took us on a tour of all of Boeing’s factories before he retired. It was a sense of wonderment at how powerful, permanent, and perfect each step of the process is to build an airplane. It takes laser focus and thoughtful creativity in optimizing each step. The awesome feeling of building something so permanent and impactful gave me a tiny taste of what Jon has probably experienced for the last 30 years. I yearn for those moments, where contributions in the present have major long-term implications for the future. Those are our defining moments.

My week on Hull Island changed my life and I hope the work we did there opens up many more life-changing moments for generations to come.

I’ll be back.