The canopy is at about sixty feet and the tops of the tallest trees are stripped bare or bent at right angles by the onshore winds. The parking lot at spot C is half full. Rubbermaid totes sit under most of the vehicles. I jog down the path. The bay is clean.
Overhead sets come regularly.
I talk to some guy I met in this exact spot, a few months ago. He has just come in to try and revive the circulation in his feet. He complains that he must break down and buy boots and gloves, and rubs his purple feet with his purple hands. He lives on Gabriola Island off the east side of Vancouver Island and says he has been paddling on the flat water over there since talking to me last. The first time I walked down to the flatwater to paddle my surfboard was an act of will.