Tidal Missives

Sometimes I forget things. Like the fact that in this dark rainy and snow-deprived winter we are having, there is still solace to be found in the presence of the ocean. Not just in the urban harbour of semi-polluted saltiness I live beside, but within a quick drive from here. Crashing surf (on the good days), the sounds of shifting pebbles and sand, salt and kelp smells. Sometimes on spring tides a veritable treasure trove of ocean emissaries arrive as well, washed up temporarily for inspection. Oceanic serendipity.

Yesterday I had planned a forest walk with my dog-friend. I have been feeling tired, low, confused, unsettled. The laziness of a five-minute shorter drive tempted me, but instead I continued on, out from under the dark canopy of firs. The road opening out into the grey bluster of the west shore. I stepped out of the car into the soft damp feel of beachy air. Driftwood, seals, Scoters and Goldeneyes bobbing in the surf just out of reach.

Sometimes I am looking for signs, without knowing it. Often I find them and my body knows, even if my mind doesn't, what they mean. The beach at Albert Head is a place of memory for me, but also a place that is clean, cleansing, ever renewing itself through the winter storm cycles. On this day there were some treasures.

The first, on the walk up the beach was this adult Harbour porpoise, a chunk of skin and blubber flayed from it's body. The dog found it first (note paw prints pictured below) but thankfully made a decision not to try to eat it. Tomorrow it may be gone, or it may remain for weeks to be absorbed into the sand, to be picked at by scavengers and sink into it's rotting self. Soon enough what is left of it will get washed away, scattered and dispersed. It will become part of the liquid particulate of the sea, and be borne into the air and earth by whomever makes a meal of it's parts.

Harbour Porpoise with some interesting injuries...Orca or propellor?

Almost back at the car this little treasure appeared. Chitons are a marine mollusc often found in tide pools and stuck to rocks around these parts. They are often hard to spot, unless you know what you are looking for, living in a drab and furry little articulated shell, something like a seagoing armadillo. I had no idea that beneath their dull and prehistoric exterior, hiding on the underside of their shells was this vivid turquoise. Revealed after the departure of their fleshy lifespan is this blast of colour.

Inside of a chitons shell. Who knew? Not me.