By Jay Scott Kanes

CHARLOTTETOWN, PEI, Canada – Before I even met Canadian truck-driver Joe Thibodeau when strolling through a city park, he gave me the strangest sense of déjà vu.

Usually I walk near home on Hong Kong’s Lamma Island. That’s half-a-world away from where Joe lives on Prince Edward Island, one of Canada’s Atlantic Provinces.

On Lamma, I often see the delicately balanced, temporary rock towers erected by Malcolm Morris on Power Station Beach. Several years ago, Malcolm began to balance rocks as part of his rehabilitation strategy in a battle against cancer.

Usually, Malcolm’s rock towers topple within a day or two, nudged by gravity, wind or passers-by. Until then, they make a fine spectacle.

When visiting PEI (my birthplace), I took a scenic walk along a waterfront boardwalk in Charlottetown, the capital city. Soon I noticed a remarkably familiar-looking rock tower. Surprise hoisted my eyebrows. Had Malcolm traveled here too? I doubted it.

Moments later, I passed another rock stack and then another.  Striding forward, I searched for the person responsible. Along the boardwalk near another rock tower, I spotted him, a burly, tattooed guy with sunglasses perched on his head.

“Did you balance the rocks along there?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m Joe Thibodeau. People call me the Rock Guy.”

So I explained about Malcolm, his fight with cancer and the oddity of seeing similar rock towers elsewhere. Nodding, Joe said: “In the past year, a few of my friends have died of cancer. After the services, I came here and balanced rocks to make monuments for them.”

Then 48-year-old Joe elaborated on his compulsion to balance rocks, something he’s done for 14 years. “I used to live in Vancouver, and that’s where I started,” he said. “In Stanley Park there, balanced rocks are everywhere.

“I tried it, and it got easier. I look for little niches and glitches in the rocks that help to balance them. By now, the tricky part isn’t stacking. It’s getting the pointy rocks to stand. Sometimes I find driftwood, buoys or seashell to incorporate in with the rocks.”

But why balance rocks? What reward does it give? “I find it relaxing,” Joe said. “The scenery’s beautiful. I can look at the ocean. People stop and ask me questions. I enjoy meeting them. It costs nothing. Sometimes I come to balance rocks when I’m having a bad day. I put on my iPod, listen to music and play with the rocks. It’s cheap therapy.”

Joe has two children, aged 10 and seven years. They can balance rocks as quickly as he does, but not as big. His daughter coined a name for his creations. “She calls them ‘hoodoos’. I’m not sure why.”

For a living, Joe drives a truck delivering propane to businesses and homes. His other hobby, weight training, also requires lifting heavy objects.

Typically, he balances rocks for a few hours at a time – maybe longer on holidays. A little breeze adds to the challenge. He works quickly. “Within two hours, I can build dozens of hoodoos, depending on my mood,” he said.

“Usually, they don’t go higher than five or six rocks. The tallest are about three feet. At the top, I like to balance a sharp-ended rock on nearly nothing.

“What amazes me is when people stop to talk,” Joe said. “They may say the hoodoos are beautiful or that one looks like a bird, a human figure or something else. My goal is always just to make them balance. But when I step back and hear the comments, I can see what they mean.

“Most hoodoos get knocked down the same day or soon after – by the wind or people being curious. Before long, I come back and build more.

“I do it because I enjoy it. People think that I must have a lot of patience, but I really don’t so it amazes me how much time I spend. Probably I’ll never stop unless someday I can’t lift the rocks anymore.”

Then Joe made a suggestion. “Give my regards to your friend who balances rocks in Hong Kong,” he said.

Joe 'just tries to make them balance'.



'Balancing on top' applies
to Joe's sunglasses too.



'Playing with rocks' costs nothing.