Take a narrow, winding road through isolated mountains full of waterfalls, tall fir trees, moss and tough granite to a tiny town on the west coast of Vancouver Island. The town of Tofino is unique in its stubborn ability to ignore modern progress. There is no Walmart, McDonald’s or even Tim Horton’s. It a long stretch of lonely road to find those too. Tofino is a town most artists would love.
My first sighting of the ocean, in the off-season, was awe, followed immediately by a feeling of their rage.
I was shocked. Normally I do not consider the sound of rolling waves lapping against the shore – anger. These waves neither rolled or lapped. These were definitely waves fueled by anger.
The waves that crashed against granite, wearing rocks away to pulverized sand made me feel they were pure, unbridled anger. There is no way to stop their relentless destruction. I was both fascinated and uneasy. The towering waves smashing with a boom against the rocks with a hissing splash of water, flooding them were an absolute surety there are forces that can’t be stopped. I realized the sands I walked on as the tide moved out and the holes and chips in the crags and rocks were caused by the power of the waves. The longer I watched the more I felt their anger.
As a writer, when I need to summon the fury and power of anger, I close my eyes and see the waves of Tofino. I feel it, I see it. It is a sight once seen, that can never be forgotten.
The tide starting to come in. Soon we must leave the beach or be swallowed by the rising waves.