13 March 2011

Today was awesome because I was not only in nature but I was a part of it.

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Taking It On The Chin

We drove along highway 14 in a borrowed, old Mazda hatchback.  It was the first time I had been behind the wheel of a stick in almost a year, had to get used to her particulars.  Coco was riding shotgun, fiddling with the knobs and dials that control the heat and fans.  As co-pilot, he was in charge of the music selection, and  keeping the windshield from fogging up.  Once we passed Sooke the road hooked left and headed straight for the coast.  The great Pacific Ocean revealed itself.  Fourteen bended back to the right to follow the coastline and the sea disappeared behind the houses, the resorts, and the trees.  Every now and then we'd hit a stretch of road with a clearing on the left-hand side and I'd have to fight to keep my eyes facing forward instead of drifting off to the hypnotizing vastness of Grand Pacifica.  I let out a deep sigh of admiration, "Just incredible, eh Coco?"

"It's amazing.  I'm really glad you brought me out here.  I have to move to this island."

"Just wait until we reach the trail."

Hydro lines ran alongside the highway and each pole had plastic numbers screwed into it in ascending order, just like houses on a street.  211... 212... 213... we were looking for 217.  214... 215... 216...  I pulled the car onto the shoulder between 217 and 218, full stop, shifted into neutral and yanked on the hand-brake.  "That must be it." I said, as I pointed out the window.

We got out of the car and stared across the street into an unmarked hole in the brush.  This was our entrance.  I brought Coco out here, but it was my first time on this trail too so we didn't know anything about the terrain or how long our wander in the rainforest would take.  I packed an extra sweater, gloves, a bandana (a very versatile and useful thing to have when you're out in the woods), granola, fresh berries, marble cheese, whole-grain crackers, two litres of water, a headlamp, digital camera, lighter, two rations of toilet paper in a zipper-lock bag, a ballpoint pen, and a multi-tool, which I wore on my belt.

Truly, we stumbled into new territory that day.

It was raining lightly and the path before us was turning darker and darker, wetter and wetter with every step, with every drop.  The falling water did nothing to hamper our spirits or atmosphere... it enhanced both!  Here we were, Mojo and Coco, alone in our own little part of a temperate rainforest.  The greens were greener, and I swear, the raindrops were the clearest raindrops I've ever seen in my life.  Like thousands of tiny, liquid prisms falling to Earth, reflecting and refracting infinite beams of light and bursts of colour.

Green was everywhere.  The trees had green leaves or needles, green moss grew on the trunks and branches, shrubs and flowers of many sizes and many shades of green, thorny greens, soft greens, slippery greens, and a very thick sprinkling of green ferns.  The trees stood tall.  The tallest trees I have ever stood under.  The largest circumferences I have ever seen.  And they not only grew straight and tall, but at all angles, creating arches and bridges out of fallen trees.  The trail took us in all directions but always in a gradual downward decline.  We often had to jump over large roots, duck under tree trunks, climb over tree trunks, avoid stepping in large puddles and small streams, traverse a fallen tree over a small gorge, grasp branches to maintain balance, hop from rock to rock, brace for steep drops, and bushwhack when there was no trail.

At our first water break we indulged in a little treat I brought to celebrate the occasion.  Right then, I think in our heads we both secretly said our own little personal prayer for the day.  Mine went like this; "Today I shall walk into the woods and walk out having learned something.  Everything is so beautiful.  I'm ready."  Our goal was to get to Chin Beach and to Chin Beach we got.  It was quite a long and arduous journey and when we finally heard the roaring waves and reached the clearing we were rewarded by exposing ourselves to a heavy downpour.  The dense forest was intercepting most of the rain before it reached us, but now we were on the shores and easy targets for the millions of speeding drops.

Straight ahead was the sea, we could go left or right.  We chose left and came to a craftsman staircase leading back into the woods.  Coco went up a little ahead of me and called back that there was an emergency shelter at the top.  Soaked to the bone I started bounding up the stairs two at a time.  A small, wood cabin stood to the left of the top stair with a glass solarium front room and outhouse around back.  Upon entering the shack we discovered a wonderful little home.  Two sleeping spaces in the loft and one on the main floor (bring your own mat), a little counter-top, and a shelf with a Guest Book for anyone who dropped in out of curiosity or to save themselves from the elements.  Coco and I were in there for a little bit of both but after removing our wettest layer and warming up a little we had had enough of being indoors already and gasped for fresh air, rain and all!

Back down to the beach we dropped and traveled across the wet stones in a north-westerly direction.  I had a wide-eyed expression of amazement on my face because I knew I was witnessing the greatest show on Earth.  The ocean was rolling with speed and grace on one side and on the other side the trees were also dancing.  Multi-talented as they were, not only were the sea and forest dancing for me but they were members of the orchestra too.  Waves crashed into the rocks, wind whistled through the trees, leaves brushed against each other, rain pattered on the stones all around us, gulls squawked and I hummed, little tunes too myself, sometimes making up simple lyrics like, "O bring the rain down on me, O bring the rain down on me, the trees are wet, the rocks are wet, the ocean's wet, and I want to be wet too."

"This is even more incredible than I imagined," I called back to Coco, "everything is just so perfect!  Look at the colours!  These colours only truly exist in nature.  Nature is art."

"So true," he agreed, "I've never seen anything like this before."

The tree trunks on the beach were water-logged and splitting.  The wood on the inside was a red-orange I can only describe as "wet-beach-tree red."  We investigated and admired everything we came across but eventually we knew that the remaining hours of sunlight were few and it was time to find the trail that would take us up and out.  As soon as we re-entered the forest we realized the unrelenting rain had not only absorbed into us but into the ground as well.  The trail was the slops, and we had to skillfully maneuver over or around many water hazards.

About two thirds of the way back to the highway, by my most unsupported estimation, we were in deep conversation when Coco posed me a question that deserved such devoted attention I instinctively stopped walking so that I could focus entirely on what my response would be.  We were talking about a mantra I had created for myself earlier in the week.  While out walking with my housemate Terrell and his dog Ruby I observed that Ruby was moving along much more slowly than we were.  She was completely immersed in her surroundings, moving from one interesting scent to the next, wandering back and forth in no particular hurry at all, her tail swaying back and forth gleefully.  And she's a very quiet animal, rarely raising her voice to announce displeasure.  Wag more, bark less.  Wag more.  Bark less.  This meant many things to me.  Talk less, reflect more.  Be relaxed and appreciate everything around you, not uptight and full of complaints.  And on this day; anyone can talk about doing something or talk about their dreams, but few actually do the things they talk about or fully go after their dreams, so talk less do more.  Today we were "doing," and Coco asked me, "What are you going to do next?"

"I've learned so much over the past few years.  Everywhere I go and every time I engage with new people I open myself up to whatever kind of little lesson or grand revelation I can obtain from the experience.  You yourself have been a great source of teachings, even when you weren't aware of it.  I know where I see myself, and I'm really starting to feel like I'm making progress towards getting there.  Everything happens at the right time.  The right time might be when I need it most, or when I'm ready for it.  Last summer I was searching the used book stores for Kerouac, but I never found a copy.  This past week Terrell casually offered me a paperback of The Dharma Bums, not knowing it was a book I had long wanted to read.  I learned from it, I was inspired by it, and although I wasn't consciously thinking about it while we hiked, I definitely feel like the spirit of those pages was in me today.  I couldn't find that book when I thought I wanted it, but it came to me when I was ready for it.  I don't know what is next for me, but I love that sense of freedom and mystery and I'm excited for tomorrow, and tomorrow's tomorrow."

Right where we stood was a fallen tree that made a perfect, damp bench.  We sat, got out the container of berries, and discussed future dreams, ethics, psychology, survival tactics, song-writing, wanderlust, The Buddha, love and it's many forms and applications, John Lennon, personal growth, awkward hair, vegetarianism, and how delicious the berries were.  It was just like last summer.  Coco and I matched up well intellectually, always challenging each other, provoking deep thought, or belly laughter, observation and investigation, often serious, occasionally absurd.  "I'm really glad you came out to visit, Coco.  What an incredible day.  This was perfect." I held my arms out and motioned to the world in front of us, "this is perfect.  And there's no one I'd rather be out here with."

"I appreciate that.  Thanks, Moj'.  Same to you."

We were losing light so we packed up and hit the trail hard, bounding over roots, dodging puddles, vaulting over tree trunks.  We reached a clearing that provided more light and tortoised our way to a slower but steady finish.  Finally, we could see the road and then the Mazda, patiently waiting.  Coco was as happy as a pig in mud and just as dirty.  "We did it, man!  We made it!"

"That was beautiful!  I couldn't be more happy right now.  At peace," I replied, and we stood in the middle of the deserted highway and patted each other on the back.

Proud of ourselves, exhausted, and retaining water, we unlocked the car, but hesitated for a moment, turned, and looked back at the leafy passageway from which we had just emerged.  "I miss it already," I confessed.

"Exactly what I was thinking," said Coco.

We didn't say anything out loud for a minute, but I think once again we privately said something to ourselves.  Mine went like this; "Thank you."
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(What made your day awesome?  Tell me in the comments sections below.  I'd love to hear about it!)

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