Vancouver Island, B.C.
The place was just as I had remembered it, an ethereal spectacle. Its
bedrock enclaves of churning whitewaters and crystalline blue pools
really flipped Mike out. We spent the rest of the day just hanging
out. We found a secluded blue water pool to swim in. We were off the
beaten path, so we shed our clothes and dove in. As we laid our arms
on the silver gray rock ledge, with warm sunlight beating down on our
shoulders, and sparkles of light rising off the rushing waters that
were massaging our naked bodies, we experienced that other world–that
acid world–in the best of all possible ways.
I guess I succeeded in creating an epic memory for everybody, at
least I hoped they enjoyed it. Once out of the water, we laid on the
smooth rocks, basking in the warm sun. When the sun sank below the
trees, we took that as a sign to call it a day. An hour later we
dropped Bev off at the Nanimo Ferry boat dock and said good-bye. Then,
after heading south, seventy miles outside of Victoria, Mike and I
pulled into a roadside park and called it a day, a very good day.
I called up Connie, an old girlfriend of mine. Since I was in
Victoria, I felt somewhat obligated to call her. Dinking a beer with
her was all that I wanted to do, though. I guess I was still
uncomfortable from the last time I had visited her. Her boyfriend and
I didn’t hit it off. Anyway, a beer among old friends, I thought, was
a good idea. When I phoned her, I wasn’t sure how she would respond.
It turned out okay; she was happy to hear from me and suggested a
place to meet. Mike and I arrived at the bar first. It catered to
kids, but that was okay. Connie and her new boyfriend came in as we
were finishing our first beers. After four years, she hadn’t changed
at all. As we got on with renewing our friendship, she said we should
consider hiking the West Coast Trail. She said it would be an exciting
thing to do.