A Journey to Spirit #19: Freedom’s Wake

We drove down the main road about eight miles into town to park by the dock for the night. Robert was out of the truck checking for damage before it came to a full stop. There were a couple of bullet holes from the rocks, but it was still intact.

The next morning we were to set out early on the West Wave. The sky had cleared from its temper tantrum and it was destined to be a beautiful blue day. This place was so remote there was hardly ever anyone else around no matter the time or day. And the silence was priceless. I untied the boat from the dock and we were off. Robert started a pot of coffee on the stove and took his time slowly motoring out of the harbour. “That’s just nautical etiquette,” he told me once. And when we were clear, he took her “up on the step” which meant the boat was sitting high on top of the water skimming along without a care.

I stood on deck behind the wheelhouse at first and closed my eyes. The salt air and the feeling of freedom rushed past me and filled my lungs. I could sense the power of the mighty engine below my feet and the wind wanting to whisk me away. Opening my eyes, lying before me was our wake; straight and precise, and marking our escape from the bounds of the world. I thought about the freedom of being on the ocean; no speed bumps, telephone poles, tarmac, crazy drivers or stop signs out here, just clear open water and pure freedom. This particular moment in time was so magical that as I close my eyes today, I can still see the wake, smell the salted air and understand the freedom of the West Wave. I not only loved Robert, I loved his world too.

We visited the campsite again and again over the next few years, never again having to deal with the river changing its course and always reminding us to watch closely for signs of west coast rain. I would wander into the stretches of forest all around to marvel at the ghostly ferns that swayed from high in the trees and to walk amongst the delicate little flowers and flora that spread across Mother Nature’s floor.

The collection of colours and scents were so spiritual and there was an entrancing energy to the forest and the ocean I’d never known before. I know what you’re thinking. I was in love and usually one feels entranced with everything when they’re in love. But this became a special connection to a powerful energy that seemed to reach out and ground me to it. I felt so at home here as if I’d known these places forever.

On one of our trips, we headed toward Hot Springs Cove. It would be a day upon the open ocean, together, just the two of us and the West Wave. These were the days that filled me up inside. The ocean was choppy. Robert had been working a long stretch and was really tired. I was standing beside him in the wheelhouse when he spoke to me, “See that mountain way, way off in the distance? Head for that.” Then he grabbed a pillow and laid down in the wheelhouse for a rest. I grinned. He trusts me with his boat!

Hot Springs Cove was a series of cascading pools of hot spring water. The only way into this special spot was by boat and then a half mile hike. We were totally alone. Stripping off our clothes, we spent the day languishing in the healing water surrounded by Nature’s hug.

Later on at the dock another boat came by and moored and aboard her was fresh-caught halibut. Our dinner that night was succulent enough for the gods. And when the other boat left for Tofino, we were once again alone in Mother Nature’s living room watching as the sun closed another perfect day. There was a priceless and sacred connection we had forged over the two years we were together, and this would become something I would never know again.

Lying upon the sponge on the deck of the West Wave, we watched the stars together that night. We dreamed of future events and laughed at our crazy take on all the little amusing things in life. We cuddled and hung onto each other as if we had done the same for a thousand years. The night was always magical. Never before, or since, had I ever felt as safe as I did on the West Wave…in his arms.

….to be continued.

Photo Credits

All other photos @ 123rf Stock Photos

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