the beach

Getting to the ocean was imperative. Day two was devoted to White Rock, a huge beach near the US border south of  Vancouver. I had once lived in White Rock and miss it oh so much. 

From Richmond to White Rock meant a long bus ride. But first I had to get to the Bridgeport Skytrain terminal. White Rock buses make only one stop in Richmond, and that was no where near my hotel. 

I caught a bus to the nearest Skytrain station. The driver let me on without paying because I told him I was going to buy a day pass at the station. Thanks! At the Brighouse Station I struggled with the machine, and had to go in search of help. I followed someone through the toll gate and went upstairs to the train platform and spotted a Skytrain worker.

She came down with me to the machine and we went through the simple instructions together. I had missed some little thing on the procedure. The machine gave me a little plasticky card which, when scanned,  let me  through the toll gate. 

Busy place, the Skytrain station. People not exactly pushing, but moving into the cars very decisively when the outgoing people exited. Bridgeport was a few stops north. Lovely view from the train. Short ride. 

I disembarked, got downstairs and hunted for the 351 bus stop. Surprise! Double decker buses to White Rock now. I climbed upstairs. Sadly it was raining and I couldn’t see too well out the window. Coastal rain is heavy. 

Such a familiar ride. The bus gets on the freeway, then pulls off just before the Vincent Massey tunnel which goes under the South Arm of the Fraser River.  Post rush hour so there  no traffic back up at the tunnel. 

I managed to get off at the right spot and had trouble finding the bank I needed to visit because it had moved. My old branch. It was only a block away from the old location. I turned in my safety deposit keys and took out the paperwork. It had to be done in person. Not easy when you live 500 km away. But I did it. 

And then, despite a slight lessening of the rain, I felt chilly and very unenthusiastic. I considered leaving, but thought I would just walk a little… I headed towards the beach, zigzagging along the  streets, not sure exactly what I was looking for. A bus stop to go back to Richmond, or a bus stop to go down to the beach… 

I walked past an Anglican Church with a little bookcase outside, and chose a Georgette Heyer novel to read on the way back. I don’t think I was supposed to pay for it. Sorry if I didn’t notice. 

And then as I was getting colder and tired-er and wishing I could stop somewhere, I caught a view of the ocean and got re-inspired. I saw what looked like– and it was– a little staircase. Irresistible. Down I went, and eventually got to the beach. 

White Rock beach is bounded by a train track, along which big freight trains roll. There is now a paved walkway along the beach, fenced off from the tracks, with very few crossing places. I decided to walk west to the place where the paved part ends.

Still a bit of rain. I crossed the tracks and found a place to sit. My jacket was long enough to sit on the damp pebbles. After a bit, the clouds thinned  and the drizzle stopped.  I walked out on the sand. 

I kept walking out farther and farther. There was no one on the beach but me. I had to jump over little streams of water. Such fun! I kept an eye on the direction of these little streams so I wouldn’t get caught having to wade back when the tide turned. 

There was a brisk wind. The clouds thinned.  The waves made a wonderful rushy splashy sound as they washed in. Seagulls feasted on shellfish, and whirled and dove through the air calling to each other. Just the birds and I and the ocean.

The time came when I noticed the direction of the little streams had changed. I had to go back. Thankfully I had got my magic time with the ocean and felt renewed.

It got considerably warmer and I got tired walking up the hill carrying my jacket. I waited for the small local bus which took me to the 351 stop. A few others were waiting so I was careful to board the White Rock way– in polite line-up.

Rush hour on public transit was not quite so exciting as earlier in the day. I did not have the energy to climb to the upstairs view. I had to stand on the Skytrain. A man gave his seat to me on the bus back to the hotel. Thanks!