Ep 15.1: Walking to the Sea - Initiation
I woke up with an extra Spring in my step, gung ho about the expedition I'd planned last night. In the dark hours, an urge to 'walk to sea' possessed me, and I couldn't sleep until today's adventure was set.
I pulled up the Burnaby Waterways map, remembering how all the water bodies in the region were connected. As I plotted a path north to the Burrard Inlet, the spirit whispered, “A straight route would be boring.” I agreed. I much preferred winding along the little creeks to the sea.
This winding 10 km path would lead from residential Brentwood through an urban park and woods to the coastline - exciting!
As I sat down to eat my 'power combo' breakfast (eggs, toast and oatmeal - the more boring the breakfast, the more power), I pondered this strange urge. The spirit no longer spoke separately; we'd merged in some sort of symbiosis. My body was itching for adventure, a familiar but strange feeling.
I think it had something to do with the Will of D from the One Piece anime — a mysterious force driving characters with the initial ‘D’ in their names to seek grand adventures. Perhaps this urge to go to the sea was a call to find my own grand adventure, my One Piece. With this connection made, and my inner motivation sorted out, it was time to prepare for the physical journey.
I packed light, as always: jacket, backpack, snack, water, and a separate pair of shoes from the last ones (those were still protestant from me baptising them in icy water). With my route planned and spirit eager, I was ready to set out on my journey to the sea.
I stepped into crisp Vancouver Spring air, with cool, welcome breezes. Bony trees were now sprouting new growth. Unlike on my other Sunday adventure, the place was bustling. I guess that's what warmer weather does.
The Town Centre’s hustle (mostly children dragging parents) tapered off as I walked east towards Beecher Creek. The scenery only grew more beautiful, especially with iconic pink and white Cherry Blossoms now in bloom. I quickened my pace, eager to reach Beecher Creek and begin the more adventurous part of my journey.
Soon enough, I found myself at the entrance to Beecher Park. The signpost brought back fond memories from my little walk in the southern split of Beecher Creek. This time, I avoided it, heading towards the unexplored northern bend - partly out of courage for adventure, and partly out of fear of being mocked by that ravine's avian inhabitants again, hehe.
The northern split was tucked alongside Beecher Park. I relished stepping from hard tarmac onto soft, mostly-moss-covered soil along the stream. This small ecosystem teemed with biodiversity, bird songs growing clearer as I followed the banks.
Some sounded familiar, though I couldn’t name their creators. Merlin Bird ID came to my rescue, revealing Pacific Wrens and other species.
I found myself joining their symphony with my own adlibs - leaves crunching underfoot, twigs snapping, and occasional “ooh”s as Merlin introduced me to new birds. Lost in this joyful performance, I suddenly found myself surrounded by dense, unfamiliar foliage. The path had vanished.
I looked down at my map and realized I had wandered off course, quite literally sidetracked. After finding my way to a clear trail, I hit a snag - a dead end at a secluded enclave. The only way forward was to cross the stream.
It didn't look that wide, but appearances can be deceiving. I leapt over, Jumpman style, but just as I thought I’d made it, my foot slipped into the water. I had misjudged both width and depth, my whole foot submerging in an instant. “Eiii!!”
Seated on a large log, I removed my right shoe and sock, both drenched. As I wrung the sock tight to squeeze out as much stream water as I could, I squirmed at the thought of having to walk where each step made a squishy noise with water surrounding my foot.
This mishap was a good reason to head back, being only a third into my journey and still in urban areas. Yet, the idea of seeing the sea filled my mind. Perhaps this was even a tactile invitation from the sea herself, calling me through this extension of her waters. I was compelled to answer.
After a final wringing of my sock, I climbed onto Parker St. A man watering his garden glared as I emerged from the ravine. I wondered if he too had once taken part in this initiation: seeing and touching this creek before returning to suburbia.
As I continued on my path, shoes squelching with each step, I couldn’t help but smile. This unexpected baptism in the creek felt like a true initiation into my adventure. The spirit that whispered to me last night was right - a straight route would have been boring. With renewed determination, I pressed on, the call of the sea urging me forward despite my damp socks.