The Story of Oceanstone

by Ron MacInnis

It is frequently that we are asked how Oceanstone came into existence. The story is a curious one, and is presented here for your interest. It is a mystery to me why people are so fascinated by this story, but they are, so...here it is.

First, let it be said, that my wife, Carole, and I still stand surprised that we have ended up here. For the idea of running an inn never entered our minds and the thought of ever leaving our beloved home in Nova Scotia 's Annapolis Valley was out of the question, but we were charmed, one day, by a chance happening upon this spot, and idea that it was for sale. Not that we could afford it: we could not, but we always dreamed a fair bit, so why not ask a few questions?

In its original incarnation, the place was a yoga retreat whose owner had been doing some very noble and interesting work with environmental education and workshops designed to improve body, mind, spirit and social fabric. But she was, she told us, running out of energy, and the place was not supporting itself. The good woman decided she needed a rest, a long one, and that we were the people to whom she wanted to pass the torch of the work she had begun, in that we ourselves had done a good deal of similar work in the community in which we then lived. And so she offered to sell the place to us for what was a reasonably attractive price. This fact was irrelevant, though, as we had neither the money, nor the deep desire to pursue the idea. We were quite happy, thank you, where we were.

But the place did have a certain allure...

And so the woman insisted that we think about the idea, and she gave us keys to the place and bade us stay for a few nights and consider the prospect in more depth. This we did, on a number of occasions in fact, and we slowly warmed to the idea, but still there was the money problem. And besides, Carole had just finished getting her PhD and was just granted tenure at Acadia University , and all the security that goes with such a job. To someone with a family, this is meaningful in the extreme.

And so on several occasions, we traveled back and forth, still warm to the idea, but unable to make the necessary financial arrangements to cause the whole thing to happen. Should we take a chance? Ideas were beginning to percolate and there was a certain excitement about the whole concept that was appealing. But there were all those practical considerations.

After weeks of deliberation, the deciding factor came as a surprise to us both. We were driving back to the Valley one day, after yet another discussion with the owner, and we were weighing all the pros and cons of the idea, when Carole said, "You know, the thing I will miss most is the old maple on the front lawn."

The maple was a hundred and some years old, had stairs going up into it, and several places to sit in the tree under its massive, leafy canopy. It was there we would go to have morning tea, looking out over the sunny fields, often having breakfast with our children. Or there we would sit on rainy days, sheltered by a living umbrella of green, as the rain pelted down on the surrounding land. The old tree soothed us to sleep at night with the sound of the wind in its branches, and it stood like an ancient sentinel over us and our children for the twenty or so wonderful years we had lived in that part of Nova Scotia

As we drove up the driveway, teetering back and forth in our decision making, we were greeted by our youngest son, Matt, who exclaimed beathlessly, "Mom! Dad! The tree blew down!" And there on the lawn where once the majestic tree had stood were two or three cords of firewood. We knew then we would be moving to a new home.

The community where we lived had a wonderful going away party for us at the local community hall, and then, anxious to save every dollar we could, we gathered our children's friends, and, amid a sea of tears, we loaded a rented five ton van with our belongings, and set out for Indian Harbour . The arrangement we made with the owner of the property there was that we would be able to rent for a year for a very modest sum. "But," she cautioned, "Don't burn any bridges." Meaning, don't sell your house in the Valley in case this all doesn't work and you have to retrace your steps...

We considered this good advice, but after spending a few months in our new abode, and talking at length about its potential, we sold the house to free up the capital we would need to survive the year, and, hopefully, to help purchase the property. The bridge had been burned.

Part of our (naive) first business plan involved generating enough money with the business itself to help finance the purchase of the place. The first few months of operation showed some sort of promise in this regard: the phone was ringing, and we were taking bookings of groups and of individuals who just wanted to get away from the flat-out pace of life.

We were pleased with our progress, and making plans to advertise and make our services as a natural retreat and conference centre better known. Then the plane crashed.

It was Swissair Flight 111, and it went down in the waters off our place with the loss of 229 lives. A pallor of gloom settled over the area and while we opened our doors to those in need at no charge, and helped where we could, there was a change in the public's perception of the place: something had happened to the calming sea that people had come to know and love so well. Our phone stopped ringing.

There is sometimes a thin line between genius and insanity: between daring and foolhardiness. There is also a time in life (for example after one has made a decision to jump off a high diving board) when there is not much sense in even thinking about turning back; one has to keep going. Expenses were mounting. The street we were on was one way...

We explored the market, and found out what was in high demand: getaway cottages by the ocean, and comfortable conference facilities. And a clean, natural environment, which, of course, echoed our own lifestyle and philosophies. We did our research: we called everyone we could think of, checked demographics and asked ourselves the questions: who is out there and what do they want? And what exactly do we think we can provide? We knew nothing about business, but we had every intention of finding out the answers.

And so we created the idea of Oceanstone: a quiet, contemplative, little world of comfortable cottages, set against a backdrop of the Atlantic Ocean 's most comforting scenery, with a conference facility for meetings and workshops, and a fine dining room to serve our overnight guests, and those who were just passing by. It was to be all natural and priority was to be given to the view planes and comfortable earth-centered feel and spirit of the place. It was our feeling that many in the modern world had drifted away from the healing and comforting balm of nature: this would be a place where that relationship could be re- established, and an appreciation and reverence for life could be encouraged. That was the plan, anyway.

But first, we had to purchase the property.

Our children, liked the idea (we had to bribe one with a pet poodle and a pool table) . But the bank manager did not. Despite all their advertisements to the contrary, we may as well have been selling train tickets to Jupiter for all the interest the bank had in our project. But the tides of life turn in mysterious ways.

Enter a man whom we had never seen before.

One day, it was deemed appropriate to hold a memorial service for the Swissair victims in the schoolyard across the street from us. The Prime Minister of the country would be there, the Premier of the province, and a huge crowd. It would be televised across the country. The aforementioned stranger knocked on our door and asked if he might use our piano to practice some of the hymns he was charged with picking out for the service. "Fine" said we, and we poured him a cup of tea and gave him the run of the place. In expressing his gratitude for our hospitality, he enquired as to our situation and we told him of our financial plight.

"Meet me in Halifax at ten on Thursday morning," he said, and passed me an address.

I agreed. At the meeting was a man who was a banker. The arrangement for the purchase of the property were made on the spot.

A short time afterwards, we hung this quotation above our registration desk: it still hangs there and is the guiding philosophy of our business to this day.

And so the pieces began to fall into place. Or so we thought. There were the usual predictions that we would fail for one reason or another, as enterprises like this "would never work in Nova Scotia " but we had the greatest of confidence and pride in the place, so that argument bore no weight.

And our children, Paul 23, Scott 21 and Matt 18 had all come home from different corners of the world and all had expressed an interest in the business, so that they too encouraged us to move forward. An adventure was about to happen and we all knew it.

But how to raise the capital for the rest of the project? Well, someone...I don't remember who...had the bright idea that we should rent...not the cottages...but drawings of the cottages. Thus could we take deposits and raise the necessary capital to allow us to borrow the money we needed to get the project started. We explained this to our prospective guests who, surprisingly, entranced by our pluckiness, supported us in our quest. So now with the cottages rented and deposit money in hand, the bank would be a little more likely to talk with us. Right?

Wrong. The best the bank would do for us (and we had an excellent credit rating and a 20 year unblemished history with that bank) was to give us a $5000 line of credit, if and only if we provided a $5000 retirement investment portfolio as collateral. Gee thanks, guys.

And so we began to scour the woods for investors so we could expand in the direction we knew (hoped) would work. The first investor, of course, is always the hardest to find. But find one we did and then family and friends stepped forward and before we knew it, we were well on the way to making our dream a reality. ACOA (a federal lending agency) took a place at the table and the staff was exceptionally helpful and understanding, as were friends we made at Nova Scotia Business Development (a provincial lending agency).

Soon the hammers began to fly and the dozers rolled in and one at a time, the little cottages popped up along the shore and breathless, we passed the keys over to waiting (and very understanding) guests. Bless them.

There is probably not a nightmare you could name that we did not have along the way: gyproc screws spinning into water pipes, sewers backing up and spewing unmentionables all over the place , electrical short circuits sparking defiantly, and endless, costly bank errors, and...get this...the public servant in the Mercedes Benz who announced to us, while our buildings were still sticks and long before we got on our feet, that our tax rate was about to go up by a factor of five from four thousand dollars a year to twenty.

But the family held true, and held on for the long haul. Paul our oldest son, opened an excellent dining room that has been getting the rave reviews (later nominated for best in the province), and thinks nothing of feeding a crowd of 125. Scott, our middle son, agreed to build the places at the age of 21 , and thus established himself in the contracting business, and Matt, the youngest does whatever needs doing, from waiting on tables to organizing our finances to working on our website. Carole, mother of my children, and my beloved mate of some 30 years, did whatever needed doing and picked up the pieces that got scattered as we built. And me? Well, I went through an awful lot of rum that year...

So here we sit, full for most of the summer and a large part of the rest of the year; tired, yes, but thoroughly enjoying the guests who come to our place to visit from all over the world. Each person is unique; each has a story to tell. Each leaves just a bit of him or her self in the form of a comment in our guest book or a passing word, or a gift that arrives unexpectedly in the mail. Our guests are the greatest.

Ours is an interesting life, in a stunningly beautiful part of the world: we are pleased and privileged to live here. And our greatest rewards come to us in the form of carefully chosen words, left by grateful visitors, in the guest books in our rooms, suites and cottages.

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