although every little ledge seemed to harbor
a scruffy green bush or two.
Maybe he would get a good look at the
overfalls. A camera with a 300mm lens sat on the seat next to
him but the light had faded too much for a photo. Using binoculars
he studied the wave. It was awesome. By itself it would never
sink a blue-water boat but by deflecting them into the whirlpools
and finally the rocks, it broke and sank even oceangoing yachts
with ease. He came about, knowing it was time to escape the current,
bringing the nose into the wind, then settled into another broad
reach back in the direction he had come.
As he reveled in the wildness of this
place, his eye caught movement. It appeared to be a woman, running
on a narrow trail that traversed the face of the treeless portion
of so-called Eagle Bluffs of South Windham Island near the island’s
sharp point.
“Go figure,” he said to
the terrier.
There weren’t many tourists in
this part of BC in October. South Windham Island, as far as he
knew, had no residents, no government parks, and no resorts. At
least none showed on the chart.
