It feels like I have been here for more than a paltry six days. I suppose the combination of having no real schedule and experiencing the lack of verifiable solar activity has conspired to obliterate my sense of timing. I have walked more in the past few days than I have in the preceding months and have slept in with a clear conscience on more occasions than I have since I was a teenager. One could grow accustomed to such a life.
I had the opportunity yesterday to wander in Stanley Park as the weather took a turn from drizzle to proper rain. We walked the sea-wall a bit further than planned, but the sight of the opposite shore almost entirely shrouded in fog made it worthwhile.
The forest is quite unlike any I have visited. I felt like a hobbit beneath the towering moss shrouded trees, which apparently pale in comparison to the true giants found in the proper BC rainforest. At risk of indulging in an outrageous romanticism, I would have to admit that the whole experience inspired in me a certain childlike state of wonderment. In spite of the rain I would have gladly plunged off blindly into the bush, armed only with sturdy boots and a rekindled belief in the possibility of the mystical. It felt like the kind of place where one could encounter some fabled creature at any given turn. I know I am not alone in this reaction.
My stalwart guide mentioned in passing the sad state of BC politics, bogged down in part by the unbound delusionalism of the fantasy-left at its worst. I think that insofar as one might envy the residents of this place their unparalleled (and comfortable) access to varying degrees of natural wonder on a truly humbling scale, one might find at least a partial explanation for the disproportionate number of nut jobs of every sort. There is nothing like the magnificence of nature on a breathtaking scale to inflame the eccentricities of Western culture. The kind of romanticism parodied since Goethe finds its very real and ernest expression in places such as this, where increasingly fewer people can afford to live.
I must cut this short as the night wears on and I've a plane to catch. In the coming weeks, and months, The Puddle will be featuring work by a number of stellar contributors. I am personally quite excited for this development and look forward to seeing what comes next.