Yellow Point Lodge is a rustic, no-frills retreat

The guests sat quietly in a semi-circle of mismatched chairs and one couch. Two men hovered in front of them, bent over a small black-and-white television made in an era when plastic really was better and portable really wasn't portable — just smaller.

The men fiddled with the makeshift antenna, a coat hanger and some aluminum foil, getting a picture, losing it, finally regaining a picture.

It was September 1997, and the funeral for Britain's Princess Diana was about to begin. It was one of the few times that a television had been brought into British Columbia's Yellow Point Lodge in more than 60 years.

Most folks have a Yellow Point Lodge in their lives. Somewhere to run when life seems to be running too fast, a place to hide for a few days, a place to recharge, a place to pretend what's happening really isn't happening — just for a couple days.

No phones, no frills, no television, no locks. No bar, no room service, no penthouse, no ostentatious financial stratification.

Just folks.

This lodge, Yellow Point, lies about 20 miles south of Nanaimo on Vancouver Island's east coast, with a sweeping 270-degree view of B.C.'s Gulf Islands.

It sits on a rocky promontory, jutting out into the waters of the Straits of Georgia, surrounded by forest, some of it old growth, nestled on more than a mile of beachfront. There's a funky and huge outdoor saltwater pool. There are tennis courts and kayaks. It's like a kids' summer camp for adults, except that it runs all year long, you can drink wine, and camp members sleep together.

But in other respects, it's exactly what the kids get (only without the kids; the lodge asks that its guests be older than 14). Three (huge) square meals a day, boating, hiking, bee stings, swimming, tennis, music, dancing, fresh cookies and lots and lots of nature. There's even an outdoor shower you may or may not share with some squirrels, a couple rabbits and an occasional deer.

A return to whatever joys we think of as yesteryear, a fantasy, an escape — experiences no doubt that have made Yellow Point more than it actually is in the minds of guests once they've left and returned to their worlds.

Devoted visitors

Yellow Point is a well-guarded, well-protected and dearly loved possession not only of its owners but of the people who come to stay year after year after year — since 1939. They do so with a zealousness many other accommodation owners would envy. (The lodge burned to the ground in 1985 and was quickly rebuilt by work crews that included several guests.)

It is often said of Yellow Point that somebody has to die before you can get a reservation. And at that you'd better book a year in advance — even in the slower winter months — to guarantee your beachside escape from the world. If you forgot to mention your intended return at the front desk upon leaving, you likely would be out of luck for same-time-next-year.

Make that same time, same room, next year.

The lodge and its 185 acres of beachfront wilderness house a variety of accommodations, from rooms on the upper floors of the lodge to both original and new cabins perched beachside or in the woods.

Everyone has his or her favorite place; very few will budge — again, year after year.

As a result, like summer camp, you easily can stay with and eat with the same people at every visit.

And there's the rub for many non-Yellow-Point-Lodge types. You must interact with people — or you starve, literally and perhaps figuratively.

All the meals are taken communally. You sit with lots of people you don't know or haven't seen for about a year. At breakfast, lunch and dinner you eat what's put before you — there are no menus. There are tea and cookies in the afternoon and tea and cookies again before bed.

There is impromptu singing, dancing, music making and storytelling. Games abound in the huge great room, as full of floor lamps and stuffed couches and chairs as any furniture showroom. People read day and night.

The guests are decidedly Canadian, but there are many others, from Washington and Oregon and around the planet, who have discovered and try to hold sacred their time at Yellow Point.

You can tell the newcomers. They stop too long in a clutch at the entrance to the dining room, unclear whether there's assigned seating (there isn't). They stand poised in the well-used and well-worn great room wondering if there are assigned couches or chairs (there aren't). They wonder audibly whether all these people who are always greeting and talking to each other came in a group (they didn't).

They just know each other. Yellow Point Lodge regulars. Settling into a dream, escaping into a more peaceful part of a world. For a while.

Terry Tazioli: 204-464-2224 or ttazioli@seattletimes.com