Forest Bathing in North Vancouver

Dec 16

Tree roots in the orange light from forest fires. Photo by Tanya Clarke 2020 — In the light of particulate matter, Mackay Creek Trail. Photo: Tanya Clarke 2020

The first time we saw the bear we weren't in our house. Away on holiday, we peered at the video footage from the camera that points down from the corner of the garage.

We watched a top-down moving image of this huge bear, his coat thick and glossy, his head bigger than a football. Much bigger. My husband commented that the bear's slow, heavy breathing made him sound like a slightly overweight, unfit man running for a bus. Or running from the law. He took refuge by the side of our house to get his breath back, before he turned around and made his way slowly out and up onto the road.

Other Wild Animals

Somewhere around here a family of raccoons has their home. Periodically they glide across the road, in single file, a parent first followed by one, two, three, or four young cubs. An unexpected snowfall reveals their footprints looking for all the world like tiny handprints, hands with unusually long, thin fingers. The prints give away their direction, they track across the road and down beside our house again.

A few months ago, while walking my dog, I saw a coyote on the ridgeline. It stopped and stared at us both, ears forward, a twitch in its tail, watching as my dog barked and barked and barked. After a minute or two, it turned away slowly and took off silently down the slope heading deep into the dense undergrowth of the forest.

On the Trail

Having grown up in the flat landscape of Norfolk, England, the mountains and wildlife of the Pacific Northwest couldn't be more different.

Every day the mountain looks different from the north-facing windows of our house. Some days the water vapour from the trees spreads out like a fluffy cloud, settling on the peak hiding the very top of the mountain.

On other days, from the south side of our house, the Port of Vancouver is hidden from view by a thick blanket of fog. It fills the harbour basin and renders any view of the tall city buildings invisible. The ships sound their horns warning of their presence in such low visibility. But for us, living up the mountain, on some days we are high above the fog and the morning develops into a cloudless, bright sunny day.

In the Summer, the water in the creek sits low, a gentle, cool, bubbling brook. One morning, in a deeper pool, I see a woman bathing, her clothing hung on the tall metal posts that have been driven deep into the rock. She has her naked back to me. I feel embarrassed as if I've walked in on my parents making out in the kitchen.

In Winter, the endless days of rain fill the creek to bursting but it's nothing compared to the Spring meltwater that thunders down from the top of the mountain, moving huge rocks and tree trunks in its wake.

This Landscape Changes You

It changes something in you this landscape, this landscape of bog lilies in Spring, bright green foliage in Summer and the all-year-round lichen that drips Halloween-like from thin branches. Every tree has a thick covering of moss reaching up as high as its highest branches.

Then there are the ancient tree trunks, long dead but providing a warm, rich environment for all the bugs and insects and tiny animals. I often push through overgrown branches and slip and slide over thick tree roots that rise up pushing forth from the soft soil. I stop momentarily here and there to take a photograph, many photographs, of the beautiful light that filters down through the canopy leaving dappled pools on the ground.

Other times I try to remember to stop and look up, way, way up to where the wind catches the tops of the trees sometimes sending an eery sound vibrating down through the leaves. In the Fall, huge fungi emerge from the tree bark as big as dinner plates while others form strange flower shapes on the forest floor.

The dog chases the squirrels and chipmunks that run up and down the trees. They're too fast and she's too big to catch them. Sometimes an owl calls out far too late in the day.

I sense that everyone I've ever known and have ever loved is right here with me.

One morning, I meet a man who brings a book with him every day. He picks a spot and reads a few chapters while occasionally throwing a ball for his dog. My dog can smell a tennis ball from one hundred paces.

At the top end, the trail heads right up into the mountain. Follow the trail, go under the bridge and a sign not too far along reminds you that the trail is unmanaged from there. Turn around and walk down the trail, past the village and twenty minutes or so later the trail ends at a busy intersection in North Vancouver.

This temperate rainforest supports a rich and diverse ecosystem. I read that close to 25% of the world's temperate rainforest is in British Columbia. It's hard not to absorb its mystical qualities. In the Summer when the forest fires grow fierce in the interior, the light here changes. The particulate matter filters the sunlight creating a dystopian orange glow.

The bears take to their dens in the winter. The tiny birds that flit about our garden grow quiet. We've left the fallen leaves for all the bugs and critters that need the leaves for their survival in the cold weather. It might not be good for the lawn but that's a monoculture anyway. This year we're embracing wildness in our garden.