So originates a 14 day adventure journey to drive the Pacific Northwest coast from Seattle to Vancouver Island.
The bumpy shoreline was gathered with Sitka spruce trees, like slender dark green monstrous pressed up against the edge of the sea shrouded in a blanket of morning overcast. Sea chicks provoked into flight with the growing ignite of the extending day as we glanced out in the various regions of the Georgia Strait and back towards the distant but still gleaming flames of the Washington coast.
It was cold, cold enough to warrant wearing a down jacket and long johns under jeans, but the insulating drapery of momentary darkness and the warm goblet of coffee in my hands made this morning vistum roughly cozy.
We had acquired it here to the southern coast of Vancouver Island, the largest island off the Western coast of Northern america that shields British Columbia proper from the tempest of the Pacific Ocean. With a largely unexplored coastline, thick witted pine forests, and some of “the worlds largest” renowned cold water surf transgress in the world, this the western seaboard of Canada would be the apex of our adventure on in the Pacific Northwest and on the Cold Coast.
Ten daylights earlier at the start of this journey, I sat in glowing sunlight streaming through the window of Milstead Coffee in Ballard, one of the many nestled districts of Seattle, Washington. My journey north toward the rugged coast of Vancouver Island would begin here in the rainy municipal itself minus the rain for at the least one day to the great satisfaction of my friends who hosted me.
That morning we had risen with the sunbathe to explore the thorough forested pathways and disturbing age old lighthouse spot of Discovery Park, neatly tucked into a reces of downtown Seattle. As we watched tug boats heralding vast cargo ships from distant lands into the waiting cuddle of the already bustling port municipal from the pebble sea, the distinct ardour of being on the teetering fringe of the largest American civilization voiced penetrating and low pitched in the tugs distant hoots.
Over the following two weeks I would meet my course north to meet up with acquaintances, new and age old, and explore the veiled gems of the Pacific Northwest Coast by district and ocean, trying out as many different adventures as we could find along the way. Our proposals were bumpy but we had some suggestions, such as sailing the two sides of the strait of the San Juans, then course leading and elevation biking through the coastal forest outside of Bellingham, Washington. We would meet our course by ferry to the end goal, Vancouver Island, the epicenter of cold water surfing, where those seashores rimmed with pine would host us to tent, spearfish, and concoct mussels over campfires and soak in the infinite wild of the Cold Coast.