When Kat & I visited Ucluelet in June, one thing we managed to leave town without doing was walk a portion of the Wild Pacific Trail. We’d seen the rainforest, Mears Island, Hot Springs Cove and all kinds of wildlife, but we didn’t drive to the end of Peninsula road to the world famous lighthouse, with it’s world class views.
So this week we put on our rain gear and hiked up to Terrace Beach to pick up the trail. We met a young buck by the side of the road, who obligingly posed for several minutes while I sorted out my camera settings:
This is the view on to Terrace Beach:
We thought that two or three hours was plenty of time to hike a 9 km portion of the trail, but we didn’t take into account the dawdling factor. We spent less time walking, and more time gawking in awe. The view in the fading daylight along the coastal trail is breath-taking:
We’ll have to go back on a brighter day to get some pictures that do the area justice. By the time we reached the Amphitrite Lighthouse it was too dark to take pictures… but you can enjoy today’s view through the webcam:
Today is an exciting day, we’re finally getting out own landline and internet. We’ve been dependant upon our landlord’s spotty wireless connection and our even spottier cell phone coverage, and I have a long list of calls to make once our home phone is up and running.
The first call will be to our representative at the Women’s Entrepreneurial Centre – yesterday we sent in a complete package, our business plan, our research, our quotes, everything. We’re hoping to find a better funding partner in them than we would in traditional lending institutions. Unfortunately, what we neglected to include was the $75 money order for the application fee, which turned up at home after we’d sent the package out priority mail yesterday. One of us will have to run out to the post office today while the other of us waits for the phone company to arrive, which we’re told will be between 8 am and 5 pm today.
I don’t know why phone companies can’t at least shave it down to a four hour window – morning or afternoon. I don’t mind puttering around at home for a day, but I’d like to know whether I can sleep in and lounge around in my pajamas or not.
Last night Mocha woke us up at 3 am to be let outside. While she sniffed around on the deck, a strong wind blew in from the west. It had been hailing for most of the night, and the deck was a treacherous skating rink covered in icy hail ball-bearings. When the wind hit I fully expected to see another curtain of hail shimmering in the distance, flying towards us with terrifying speed.
But what I saw was the grey curtain of the night sky swirl and sweep back, and the billions of twinkling stars peek out at us. The shimmering seemed like silent giggling, merry and teasing, as though all the bad weather is just in good fun. I recognized Orion’s Belt, The Seven Sisters, constellations I’d learned when I was a child. On the other side of the country, the stars still looked the same. I’m so grateful to live in a place where I can actually see them.
Mocha barked once, sharply, letting me know she was done and wanted to go back inside. We stepped inside the mud room, and I looked back out the window over the porch and up at the stars. In that moment, a huge bird of prey glided silently over the deck, right over the place I had just been standing, and disappeared into the darkness of the trees. It had been watching us. I hadn’t gotten a good enough look to know whether it was a bald eagle or a great horned owl, but it was large enough to be either.
I looked back up at the sky; the stars were again hidden behind their veil of clouds. I wonder what else had been watching us.
This morning I woke up to see the mountains outside of our living room window had acquired snow caps overnight:
It is a beautiful world.