Haida Gwaii
Why go to the airport two hours early when one can spend it on a rocky beach?
The Onward Point trail on Moresby Island was the entrance to this temperate rain forest of red cedars sitka spruce and western hemlock.
The bald eagles sent out their alerts.
We were accustomed to this.
We heard them all weekend, as we were alone again in Haida Gwaii. The trail ended at a gazebo with a nice whale-viewing platform. There were no whales.
But perhaps whales don’t know about viewing platforms.
A giant salmon leaped out of the water, and my husband was lucky to see it.
The volcanic rock on the beach, black basalt, smoothed by centuries of waves, called us down to the shore.
One doesn’t worry about return flights home or grabbing a lunch before a flight when grey whales are migrating to Alaska, stopping to feed in the nutrient-rich waters.
We needed only to turn the bend, climb over the rocky cliffs, to see if the whales might be on the other side.
They were, and there were many, their hot puffs of air coming out through their blowholes seen in the distance as they slid gently out of the water.
They were no doubt feeding, rolling on their backs, slowly, rising above the surface.
But the seals wanted to distract us as they poked their heads out of the water to have a look at us.
We were seated on the perfect viewing platform, a long stretch of perpendicular basalt, taking in the show.
Dozens of marine birds came too, and our eyes feasted on them and on the seals sharing the herring.
A family of sea otters joined, lying on their backs, some entangling themselves in the kelp.
I imagined the kelp forests under that water, which they are helping to keep alive.
How funny they looked.
A young one came closer to have a look at us too.
Why does one need to go to the airport early when a large natural aquarium stands before you?
The sound of waves, the feel of smooth rock, and our eyes watching the many acts of a play unfolding in real time, of marine animals and birds; a life over millennia.