When in Rome...

Waking up under a giant chestnut tree in Fanny Bay, I'm offered a fresh picked oyster with my morning coffee, now thats a coastal Canadian summer. A slippery mouthful of salty water makes me grateful for the abundance of the ocean, the oyster is great protein for the kilometers that lie ahead. This prompts me to go in search of my own loot, and soon I am asking locals in Union Bay where to find some fresh BC oysters. I'm told "well the sewage comes out here, and past there begins red tide, so in between those should be good - thats where my wife gets them..." This is my mission, and I have faith in the locals, so off I go. After an entire day spent stopping every so often to re-hydrate my sea friends with ocean water and ice, I feel accomplished. Today is supposedly the hottest of the week, and I feel a deep connection to the oysters that have traveled the 50km to Miracle Beach with us, in a heavy leaking plastic bag hanging off the back of my bike.

In a world where we are so used to grocery store convenience, I am grateful that we are still so able to forage our food from our backyards. And, gazing into the fire, with a deep appreciation for my salty supper, I find yet another reason we need to keep our coastline clean - so that we can all go on an oyster adventure one day.

Later, as the sun sets behind the Coastal Mountain range of the mainland accross the water from Miracle Beach, a young girl Ruby and her mom Wendy stop to talk to us . Ruby is twelve. She tells us that the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico is a result of our ever growing push for more and more and more. She says that if the oil had been extracted and used in our cars and production, it would be the same pollution, just 'invisible' and dispersed. Its just because it's concentrated in the water that we can actually understand how much damage we really do. This journey is teaching us about listening to both the young and the old, with equal respect. Ruby is a part of the generation who is inheriting this planet, and she can see the absurdity in the way we're treating our only home. It is inspiring to meet these kids, for they will be the ones to bring forward the creative solutions to the problems being created right now.

The sand on this beach is soft and silver in the dying light, and we hardly notice the flooding tide advancing until the rainbow blanket is almost surrounded. As we make our way back to our campsite, we stop and talk with a musician named Julian who is working the night shift. "You know, the ocean makes no sense at all half the time, its just too surreal..." he tells us, and these words drift with us as we collapse, exhausted, into our tent.