Crowd scene

Good news; one of my hermits has turned up alive! The last time I saw him, he was stumbling about feebly, tipping over and struggling to right himself. Then, like the others, he disappeared. (Any hermit that dies gets eaten quickly by the crabs; all that remains is an empty shell.)

Tonight he was climbing high up in the seaweed, back to his normal agile self. Yay!

We went to Boundary Bay at low tide two days after Canada Day, still part of the long weekend. Instead of meandering across the sand, poking around in the tide pools as we usually do, we walked straight out to the far edge, about one and a half kilometres from the shore. Good exercise, and very calming; nothing to see but sand and water, nothing to hear but the wind.

Looking towards Vancouver

Well, almost nothing. Far in the distance, everywhere we looked, the beach was a hive of happy activity.

Waders, walkers, diggers, and sleepers under an umbrella.

Runners and boarders.

Dogs and ballplayers and a blue kite.

Looking southeast, towards the boundary marker. Gulls and (illegal?) crabbers and a distant boat.

Zoom. I think the runner is carrying a rake of some sort.

Almost at the drop-off to deeper water, a couple of boarders prepare to come in; the tide has turned.

Clam diggers or castle builders.

Across the border, in the US, the beach goes on.

We walked in our bubble of silence, out and out and out, breathing deeply. No chemical smells, no choking smoke, just salty air - ahhh!

Three quarters of the way out, a tiny, dripping dog came to say hello and dance away again.

And then, as we reached the last sandbar, the tide began to race shoreward. We turned and hurried back. The shallow streams we had crossed on the way out were now calf-deep rivers with strong currents. The distant walkers were all heading inland, to the cars or barbecues awaiting them in the park.

We went to Tim Horton's, instead. Piping hot tea and coffee; the final touch to a healing afternoon.