There's a stiff breeze today, enough of a wind to ruffle Pacific Ocean waters into a series of white caps out yonder and, I suspect, crashing waves on the shores. Moreover, the wind is strong enough to merit a head covering; up here on the track every breeze and every drop in temperature exaggerates itself.
Buttoning up my jacket I set out on the first of the six laps I plan to make around the track. To my right the beauty of the water is amplified by the presence of islands: Texada Island, home to a quarry that yielded the stone embellishing the front of the Vancouver Post Office; Harwood Island, also known by its traditional name of Ahgykson, is part of the traditional territory of the Sliammon First Nation; and looming in the background, Vancouver Island. There are others dotting the horizon but these three loom large in my line of sight. Along with their beauty I am told that their presence will break the impact of prophesied earthquakes and probable tsunamis. That's reassuring when you live perched on the edge of the Ring of Fire, an area notorious for volcanic eruptions and earthquakes.
Filling in the blanks between islands, sail boats, barges, yachts, fishing vessels and ferries ply these waters on a daily basis. In a geographically isolated community the presence of marine transportation is a source of comfort.
What lies beneath the surface is what really intrigues me, though: ships have gone down, lives have been lost and we humans have managed to populate this pristine beauty with garbage. So much to regret yet so much for which to give thanks.
I enter the curve in the track with praise to God that he forgives and forgets
        "...You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea." (Micah 7:19, NKJV)
