What do you think of when someone says: “the beach”?
I think of tanning lotion and skin being bathed in sunlight… of gentle winds whispering through the casuarinas… of swaying palms and golden sands…
I guess my first thought is tropical: not at all like the beaches we visited on the Sunshine Coast of British Columbia!
Just to be sure, I looked “beach” up in an online dictionary:
“beach: /bitʃ/ -noun
1. an expanse of sand or pebbles along a shore.
2. the part of the shore of an ocean, sea, large river, lake, etc., washed by the tides or waves.
3. the area adjacent to a seashore…”
So, we were, by definition, at the beach: expanses of pebble, rock and driftwood, bathed in fog and battered by the autumn seas. Magical and atmospheric, but never warm! Although the foreshores of the Strait of Georgia are protected from the worst of the elements by being in the lee of Vancouver Island, they provide the perfect pockets for cold, damp fog.
This is logging country. Forests here, outside of National Parks, are all new growth timber planted and maintained by logging companies. Tug boats travel down the Strait with massive booms of logs behind them. Escaped logs bob around in the Strait as waterlogged, partially submerged “Deadheads” as dangerous as icebergs, or wash up on the shores as driftwood. Anyone who ever saw the Canadian TV program “The Beachcombers” knows that driftwood of any value doesn’t last long on the beach, so the piles that remain are of little commercial worth.
As I said, magical and atmospheric… I am always a bit sorry to leave… Especially when I know it will be a long time before I will be back. Ah well, until next time ~ safe travels.