Stonehill Farm near Maple Bay, outside Duncan, is one of those places I can revisit without feeling that I have exhausted its possibilities. The abandoned mansion draws attention first, but the property extends well beyond it: dilapidated stables, a greenhouse, an old sawmill, numerous outbuildings and a path leading to a small waterfall.
I have been here numerous times, both to explore and to photograph. Some visits produced private shoots. Others became Veil of Shadows, Crescent & Steel and Fallen, projects that now form part of Sigil Static Studios’ narrative photography portfolio.
What brings me back is the variety. Moving from one part of the property to another can change the kind of image I begin imagining. A room suggests an encounter. The sawmill suggests a figure moving through the remains of work. The waterfall offers something quieter.
Stonehill Farm Beyond the Mansion
The mansion is an obvious starting point for a photographer interested in atmosphere. Its abandoned condition gives the rooms a sense of interruption: spaces once arranged for everyday life now invite questions about what happened there.
But concentrating entirely on the house would miss much of what makes the property interesting.
The agricultural buildings have a different character. The stables and sheds retain suggestions of their former uses, while the sawmill introduces weathered industrial structures. Then there is the greenhouse, where a space intended for growing things sits within the larger scene of deterioration.
Other visitors have documented that range. Seeing the Elephant’s account of Stonehill Falls describes the house alongside barns, a small sawmill, sheds and the waterfall. A photographic tour of the outbuildings also records how much there is beyond the main residence. These are visitor accounts rather than historical records, but their observations help explain why the property attracts more than a passing look.
A History That Needs Careful Telling
Looking up Stonehill Farm produces competing accounts as well as photographs.
Some connect its development to Carlton Stone; others credit his son Norman and describe a later period of construction. Reported acreage also varies. A detailed account shared by the Retreads Hiking Club points readers toward Maple Bay History 1858–2023, published by the Maple Bay Historical Society, for further history, but at the time of writing this article, the site appeared to be down.
Those disagreements matter because stories often travel on the strength of what they make us feel. An abandoned mansion gives the imagination plenty to work with: empty rooms, deteriorating walls and the unanswered question of why someone left. A dramatic explanation can be easier to remember and more tempting to repeat than an ordinary, well-documented one. With each retelling, speculation can lose its qualifiers until “someone said” becomes “everyone knows.”
That is fertile ground for urban legends. Sometimes the result is a ghost story that becomes part of a place’s local folklore. But the same process can attach invented tragedies, scandals or motives to real people. A compelling story can become a false accusation, distress a family or leave a reputation defined by something that never happened. The uncertainty that makes a place interesting does not give us licence to fill its history with whatever sounds most convincing.
As a photographer, I’m happy to use Stonehill Farm as a setting for fiction. Its documented history requires a different standard. I can describe what I have explored and the photographs I made there; I would want stronger evidence before presenting a definitive construction date or explanation for its abandonment.
Even the name appears in two forms online: Stone Hill Farm and Stonehill Farm. I’m using the latter here, consistent with the “Stonehill” spelling in North Cowichan’s 2011 planning documents.
The Sawmill and Crescent & Steel
For Crescent & Steel, the old sawmill gave us a setting with enough character to carry an ambiguous scene.
Kyra wore black and carried a blade beneath the crescent moon. Against the weathered timber and encroaching darkness, she could suggest a witch, a wanderer, a priestess or simply a woman alone among the ruins.
I liked that the location did not settle the question.
The gestures and blade borrowed the visual language of ritual, while the sawmill belonged to a comparatively modern world of labour and machinery. Bringing those elements together created a tension I wanted to leave unresolved. Perhaps a ritual was taking place. Perhaps the viewer was assembling one from familiar symbols.
A photograph from the series appeared in Portal Magazine’s 2026 issue alongside an image from Drown, Ophelia. The two projects became some of my earliest published photographic work.
Different Buildings, Different Photographic Possibilities
Returning to a location raises a useful creative question: what can I make here that feels distinct from what I have already made?
At Stonehill Farm, the variety of spaces gives me several possible answers.
Gothic Portraits and Domestic Stories
The mansion suggests characters with a relationship to a room: someone returning, waiting, searching or encountering a place that has changed. Veil of Shadows drew on that atmosphere for its story of summoning the dead.
A future series could take a quieter direction, using the contrast between carefully styled clothing and deteriorating surroundings for gothic portraiture or a fashion editorial.
Industrial Fantasy and Character Studies
The sawmill and outbuildings offer another visual vocabulary. Timber, structural lines and traces of machinery could support an industrial fantasy, a post-apocalyptic traveller or a performer portrait built around movement and scale.
These are possibilities I see in the setting, rather than claims about the property’s history. Wardrobe and direction would determine whether the scene suggested danger, resilience, solitude or something else.
The Greenhouse and the Waterfall
The overgrown and compact greenhouse makes me think about the relationship between cultivation and neglect. A botanical concept could explore renewal, or place delicate styling against a structure that has weathered over time.
Further along the path is the little waterfall, announced by a wonderfully literal sign: “Water Falls.” Its intimate scale suggests a different pace—woodland portraits, folklore-inspired imagery or a quieter narrative beside the water.
Any future production would depend on permission to use the property and the condition of the specific area. A setting can look compelling through the camera without being suitable to work in.
Why I Keep Returning
Veil of Shadows, Crescent & Steel and Fallen share a location, but each gives it a different role. That is what keeps Stonehill Farm interesting to me.
Familiarity lets me notice more. After the initial fascination with the mansion, I can begin thinking about individual spaces and what a particular concept needs from them. Sometimes that means returning to somewhere I know. Sometimes it means following the path a little further.
The property has its own history, whether or not I know every part of it. The stories I photograph there are temporary additions: a figure, a costume, a gesture, a chosen frame.
There is still plenty I can imagine making here.
