Untold

I leave Friday in the rain. After two slow motion weeks, I explore a bit more of my mysterious island. My compass shows me the North and my heart follows, stopping for the night at Courtenay. The little town is dressed up like Christmas, streets are celebrating and I linger in the Cornerstone Taphouse’s dim and warm light.
The next morning, I would like to sleep forever, I apparently start to get along with my narrow sleep in the car… I thought I was near the ocean and I am disappointed to see another land in the horizon. The walk along the river isn’t really appealing then. I hit the random road, since my GPS is on strike. I trust my instinct and it works pretty well.

The fog starts to worry my desires though, all the closed trails on internet as well, I am not sure I want to hike Mount Washington anymore. I thankfully keep going and I passed the clouds layer. The sky is not really clear but there is like magic in the air when trees’ shadows suddenly emerge through the haze filtering the morning light. It was worthy of the ride, just for that fleeting moment.
Still depending on my instinct, I end up at the Paradise Meadow trail head. I would rather climb the mountain ridge but with such a fog, I am not sure it is really worthy… I won’t see the promised Olympic Peninsula anyway. I then enter the MacKenzie and Battleship Lakes loop instead, playing with invisible mounts revealed by a piece of blue sky from time to time. My mind stretches out, takes detours and dreams of new journeys. I think of my America’s end, the spring I wished and what is awaiting for me.

Then the North, or more accurately the last accessible part of the island, calls for me through the wind. I drive for hours that feel like days, in a flooding rain, towards Port McNeil. Landscapes are so nice, green lost in the clouds, visible but touchable mounts; yet my amazed vision gets blurry. Maybe because I get lost in some internal speeches at some point. Maybe because the haze has traveled through time and entered my thoughts.
A strange blue light on the horizon brings me back to reality at Telegraph Cove fork, I hope for a clear up. Unfortunately, the rain only gets worse after that. Port McNeil doesn’t move me. And I push to the end of the world, to the last BC-19 highway stretch. The view on the ocean finally matches my heart, perfect shelter for my golden night.

When I wake up, a thin moon croissant enlightens dawn like a beautiful jewels for the awaking sky behind cloudy mountains on Port Hardy Bay. My morning walk nearby the quiet oceans awaits for my numb heart. I stretch my clumsy steps surrounded by the swell music and bird’s first bath of the day. My mind is hazy like the horizon, I don’t think, I am just enjoying the delight of my promenade.
I am ready to reverse my yesterday drive, already seen and yet changed. Pushed by some unknown impulse, I detour towards Port Alice first. I lost my way to Lake Victoria because of some fake abandoned factory, the road is absolutely stunning nonetheless. The morning haze embraces one last time yesterday rain. The soft sun behind clouds veil flies low on the water and blends with the surrounding unbelievable green. Mounts intertwine and open thin hallways for the endless world’s oceans. Birches are covered with moss and welcome the blue jay’s magnificent flight. I have forgotten about them and suddenly, they all sing around me. They add their own color to my giant morning picture.
This early bird morning is already late and I have to quit this fleeting magic that I truly hope meet again one day. This is one of my favorite mornings, when landscapes still smells like rain, when clouds are vanishing only leaving behind an evanescent memory for the sun. I would happily get lost in this kind of mornings if time had to stop. This one adds to the magic like an unexpected surprise.

I have to leave this magic world though and I give myself a chance for a last detour throughout Telegraph Cove. Weird vision of a close past: a woody cabin breathes nearby a tiny railroad. I instantly picture mining life here back in other days. I discover stilt houses and their empty boats parking in the cove. I get a glimpse of snowed mounts by yesterday rain. Such a surprise.
Surprise that ends my new looks of the day. After that, I follow the same road playing another day. Nimpkish Lake, mesmerizing jewel in my window, only gives me some glances through blind trees, under its fog layer, always protected my mountains. Blue Jays follow my wandering, crossing my road as they magically fly. Landscapes are so beautiful, elusive. Unforgettable. Untold. A simple and sweet happiness wave in my heart.
I finally reach Campbell River, from where I glimpse at Mount Washington range. Hazy. I drive along the sea on BC 19A Highway. Slow and peaceful. The strait of Georgia is so quiet to Nanaimo, last sun light before going home in the dark.