Leave No Trace

On the coast, not so far from the beaten path, sat a beach. A traveller may stumble upon it and expect to see it covered from end to end in beer cans, plastic bags, tags, candy wrappers, cigarettes and six-pack rings. Such would not be the case for this expanse of bedrock. Unlike most of the ever-beautiful Vancouver Island --when two weathered hikers choose to veer off from the footpath onto a deer's much smaller tunnel-- they come across a bit of beach that looked completely and utterly untouched.

Though there were houses nearby enough that the occupants could have likely seen the beach and access it with some ease, there were no people on it but the pair. Even by the long, beached Cedar and arbutus logs at the forest's edge, there was no sand. Large rocks were wedged between each log, detached from the earth though they were. Beyond the driftwood --as the hikers climbed towards the ocean— sat solid bedrock, with dips here and there holding small puddles of seawater, some with tiny organisms and anemones, some with small fish. There was very little rock showing. Most of it was covered in threads upon threads of connected bladderwrack kelp. The rock that the eye could see was covered in barnacles and shattered, bleached clamshells.

The pair found a ledge next to the ocean free of debris enough to sit on. The wind was screeching, and the waves were crashing high nearby them, and it should have been cold, yet it wasn't. Neither one felt it as the stinging air turned their noses red, the rest of their exposed skin pale and their lips edging on blue.

Both were drawn to the ocean at that moment. A brief pause, ignoring the shining lights of homes across the bay as it fell dark. They'd left their vehicle at noon; it should not yet be night.

They watched, bewitched by the rolling waves, as seals surface and bark, some came to the edge of a cliff nearby, hanging on tightly to a jagged outcrop, barely above the surface. Though they nearly missed it, the kerplunking swoosh of water between seal and land registered within their consciousness as a gentle reminder that they were not the land. They were, in fact, intruders here, though it felt as though they belonged.

The atmosphere practically screamed it at the pair. The air was thick with salt, and they could breathe better than they were able to only a hundred yards back. They felt at ease as waves crashed high upon their cliff, only a few feet below where their shoes hung.

The sound of the waves and plopping sound of the water around the seal was almost alluring, a flirtatious song from the wind howling. Though they looked cold, both felt as warm as they would in front of a fire.

The woman of the pair stared so intently at the frantic ocean below that she began to lean forward, reaching the tip of her shoe towards the waves as they grew higher.

Waves appeared to climb the rock-face at a steady pace, first capturing her left foot, then the other. Her shins came next, then the water was high enough that the hiker's grip on the cliffside was not strong enough to hold her there. The other hiker grabbed her hand, hanging on tightly, coming out of their daze. However, the one in the water was transfixed, unaware of her surroundings, unaware of the event that unfolded around them.

The water shimmered as it drew the other in too. Once the murky brown-green of Vancouver Island's ocean, now a sparkling aquamarine, bright enough to make the still-aware hiker believe for only a moment that it was daytime once again.

Seawater, normally so salted enough of it could make a human throw up, came up over the head of the girl. The other grew frantic in their attempts to pull their comrade free to no avail. They had to let go to get away, and they did, but they didn't make it up the cliff face.

They began to climb back, only for the sentient waves to take them in too. It closed up over their head and removed every sense they still knew. They couldn't feel the frigid cold. They couldn't taste the overwhelming seawater as it took over their lungs. They were blinded by the luminescent water.

Then, they were water.