It is everything I love. And then some.
We took the ferry over to Bowen Island, a tiny dot on the Sunshine Coast, 15 minutes by ferry from Horsehoe Bay. Their wasn't a cloud in the sky.
At 6:30 PM, we suited up for our adventure with two other women from Vancouver and a perky guide from New Zealand. It was the first time, for both my and my pal, to get into a kayak in deep water, from the dock. A harrowing and unnerving task.
"I can't" squealed my little frightened ten-year-old pal.
"Sure you can," I said with confidence (though secretly wondering if I would dunk us both!)
We edged in from the dock, steadied in our cockpits, and took a seat. Much easier than it looked from the outset.
We paddled out into open water. Darkness was coming quickly, and the sun glowed pink in the sky. Three seals popped up, only three or four feet from our kayak. Two herons perched on the rocks close by,
"This is the best time to see wildlife" our guide cooed.
We were in awe.
The paddle was peaceful. We edged along the shoreline on our way out into open ocean by 8:00 the sun had dipped below the horizon, the stars began to shine like a Lite Brite, so brazen. So beautiful. I haven't seen stars so big and bright since my hiking stint in the Yukon. And still, these were different.
"Keep an eye out over there," our guide said pointing to a mountain. "The moon rises fast. It'll just pop up!"
And sure enough, a big round ball of white light appeared in a heart beat, illuminating the mountain from behind, creating a black mountainous silhouette.
"WOW!" we said in unison, and "parked" our kayaks, moving only slightly with the calm waves of the ocean, and we watched the full moon rise. So stunning I could have cried. Though that wouldn't be cool to a ten-year-old, so I kept it together, if only to maintain my dignity.
"That is amazing" whispered my co-pilot. We were all whispering now, as if our voices would shatter the gracefulness of teh moon's ascent.
Within two minutes, the full moon was high in the sky, the ocean was black and sparkling with moonlit diamonds. It was the stuff that National Geographic photo contest winners were made of.
When the moon finally hung still in the sky, making it's place for the night, we turned our kayaks and headed back to Bowen Island. Though the moon surprisingly gave off an incredble amount of natural light, we wore headlamps and bike lights to let the other boats know we were there, and cautiously paddled inland.
On shore again. we were mesmerized by it all. The moon was a ball of white fire. The Big Dipper was so big and so bright that we felt we could reach out and touch it. And, since we missed the 9:00 ferry home and had to stick around for the 10:00, we headed down to the very end of the docks, where there was no light, and where we could barely see our feet in front of us.
A full moon. A dark dock. A brilliantly calm ocean. It was the perfect conditions for bioluminescence. I had never seen them in person, only read of them in adventure mags and seen them on a Natur TV documentary once. When you see them, you believe in magic. Instantly.
Scientifically, bioluminescence is a marine phenomenon. It is light produced by a chemical reaction with a single-cell organism. They are mechanically excited to produce light through movement.
To us, it was simply magic.
We took off our shoes and socks and kicked our feel in the cool black water. In return, the water sparkled back, like it was full of blue, green, and silver glitter.
The evenings second chorus of "WOWs" ensured.
We splashed our hands and cupped the water, and watched as it sparkled in our hands.
It seemed more miraculous than scientific.
I have never seen anything like it before.
An hour later, with wrinkled, wet, and cold feet and hands, bellies pained from laughter and excitement, we clambered to our feet at the sound of the ferry horn, rushed to the depot, and made the last sail home with smiles on our faces and certainty in our hearts.
For a local sea-kayaking adventure, check out Bowen Island Kayaking.
