Saturday morning arrived.
I woke up at 6. I had to be a work for 7:30. I groggily threw on some jeans, a tee, and some sandals. Threw on my vest, leashed up the dog, and opened the door to head out on our morning walk.
I opened the door. Forgetting, in my a.m. grogginess, about the good weather hype all week. I breathed in the fresh air. I looked east at the purple-red sunrise. I stopped. Dead in my tracks. The dog started whining. "Man alive," I thought. "I haven't seen the sun rise in months!" Not because I can't get up early. But because even on nice days, winter in Vancouver is fraught with thick cloud coverage.
I smiled.
"What a day!" I said outloud.
The paperboy (man) passed by, heard me and smiled. "''Bout time we saw some sun" he said with a smirk.
I wanted to high five him to seal our collective love for this morning. But I opted to head to the beach instead.
Now here's the irony of waiting waiting waiting for a day like this to show up: I had to work. from 7:30 until 2 or 3. I knew I would have a few hours to play post-work, but I was dreadfully disappointed to have to miss the peak of it for a few measely dollars and the opportunity to smell like grilled sausage and pancakes all day long.
I called Paul on the way to work: "Baby, cross your fingers for me that no one comes into the restaurant and I can leave early"
He obliged.
Sure enough, our usually buzzing breakfast joint was a ghost town. And by noon, I high-tailed it out of there, suited up for a nice hike, coaxed Beamer into the car, and headed to Lighthouse Park in West Vancouver, on the Southwest shore of Burrard Inlet and English Bay.
I had never been. But knew that the elevation was low (which is key for Spring-time hiking here. The mountain tops are still neck-deep in snow) and that the plants were abloom.
Lighthouse Park features a far more frequented set of hiking trails. Some are well carved and laid with gravel for the Sunday strollers seeking a dose of nature without the possibility of twisted ankles or tree-stump tripping. These trails were busy today with families, tourists, older couples, dogs, and more out to enjoy the day. Beamer and I, however, went in search of some more rugged terrain so we could feel far away. We like to escape.
The trails, even the less groomed ones, throughout the park are easy to moderate for hiking. It's more like moderate walking, which was actually perfect for my aging dog and for our first exploration of this park. After a half hour or so of interior hiking we came upon our first lookout. 15 minutes later, another one, Then another. Then another. We were hiking cliffside and the views were striking! Like an impressionist painting, the sky, ocean, and mountains were all shades of pastel blues and pinks. I was expecting a Degas ballerina to enter Stage Left at any time.
It was extraordinary. The sky melted into the mountains which melted into the ocean. It was breath-taking, quite literally. By the third lookout, we sat down and stared for a while. Burrard Inlet was buzzing with sailboats, full sail. The million-dollar yachts were cruising close to shore. The seagulls were chirping over head and the water was still like glass.
There is something so therapeutic about the West Coast. About this perfect combination of earth, wind, fire, and water. It's like I live in a kaleidascope. All the pieces, day in and day out, are the same: Montains, Ocean, Sky, Trees. But everyday they are sewn together in a new light. And every day it's another thing of beauty. It's really quite incredible.
It makes me feel so alive!
