EKOS Communications, Inc.

At the moment, I'm reclining in a makeshift bed that Di and I assembled from the furniture provided at this oceanside establishment just a couple of kilometers south of Tofino, on Vancouver Island's outer coast. Through the open door to the patio I hear the ocean's rhythmic sighs as it collides with the beach lies between the surf and our cabin. Today, we spent hiking from the top end of Long Beach, past the community of Esowista to one of our most favourite places under heaven, Schooner's Cove. It lies beyond the tip of Long Beach, marked by Box Island. Clambering over it's jagged outer coastline, I recalled one particularly vivid memory of the place. It happened during the height of the stormy season many years ago - sometime around February I believe - when I stood on the ancient rock and felt it tremble at each encounter with the wild sea. Later, as I sauntered along the tideline towards an island lying very near the end of the beach that defines Schooners Cove, I saw again in my mind's eye that strange fish that I discovered maybe around about the same time as the experience on Box Island. It lay partially buried in the sand. At first I thought it was dead, but when I gently prodded it, frantic flapping of the fins ensued accompanied with a raising of spines seemingly everywhere! Soon, all the flapping had resulted in the creature very nearly burying itself. I quickly surmised that whatever it was, it preferred that alternative to being rescued and decided to leave it alone. As you might guess, I have a strong attachment to Schooner's Cove. Not surprisingly, I'm also deeply concerned about what will happen it as a subdivision grows behind it. I wonder how many people know that the Tla-o-qui-aht First Nation has been given permission to expand their community