Autumn by the Ocean
The cool, sunshiny weather of Victoria summer has been replaced by the unpredictable showers of a Victoria fall, which tells us that winter (well, "winter") is settling in here. You can't actually call the winter cold, but rather, "less warm".
There are some days that I do miss the frozen, crisp clear days of an Ontario winter--the ones with dazzling white snow and air so cold that it hurts to breathe, and all you can hear is the crunching of snow and ice underfoot. I miss the brilliant Autumn colors of the Gatineau Hills, followed by the smell of fallen leaves and the feeling that we will be bunkering down soon.
However, there is nothing quite like standing on the breakwater at Ogden point, looking over the misty, crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean (a scuba diver surfacing every now and then), and seeing the peaks of the Olympic mountains in the distance. You wonder what each cargo ship is bringing in, and where it comes from. On the best of days, I watched a seal as it wrestled (yes, wrestled!) an octopus. Another night, Ian and I raced along the breakwater towards the lighthouse, trying to beat a monstrous, glowing cruise ship, which glided right past like a four-story, gaudy Christmas tree.
Ogden point is always changing. The mountains grow or shrink depending on the mist in the air; the tide comes in and out leaving goose barnacles squeaking on the rocks; children play and collect sea treasure while their dogs take daring plunges into the bouncing waves to rescue sticks; hobo musicans or drunk university students gather secretively around their illegal beach fires, the clouds of their green smoke filling the air; and kites and para-gliders often dip and dive near the cliffs as they follow the air swells that send them in sky-swoops. I think this must be one of the most beautiful places in the whole world!
There are some days that I do miss the frozen, crisp clear days of an Ontario winter--the ones with dazzling white snow and air so cold that it hurts to breathe, and all you can hear is the crunching of snow and ice underfoot. I miss the brilliant Autumn colors of the Gatineau Hills, followed by the smell of fallen leaves and the feeling that we will be bunkering down soon.
However, there is nothing quite like standing on the breakwater at Ogden point, looking over the misty, crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean (a scuba diver surfacing every now and then), and seeing the peaks of the Olympic mountains in the distance. You wonder what each cargo ship is bringing in, and where it comes from. On the best of days, I watched a seal as it wrestled (yes, wrestled!) an octopus. Another night, Ian and I raced along the breakwater towards the lighthouse, trying to beat a monstrous, glowing cruise ship, which glided right past like a four-story, gaudy Christmas tree.
Ogden point is always changing. The mountains grow or shrink depending on the mist in the air; the tide comes in and out leaving goose barnacles squeaking on the rocks; children play and collect sea treasure while their dogs take daring plunges into the bouncing waves to rescue sticks; hobo musicans or drunk university students gather secretively around their illegal beach fires, the clouds of their green smoke filling the air; and kites and para-gliders often dip and dive near the cliffs as they follow the air swells that send them in sky-swoops. I think this must be one of the most beautiful places in the whole world!
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