The “Wet Coast” was wet this past weekend. So wet that rivers overflowed their banks all around the so-called Pacific Northwest (Southwest in British Columbia). Maybe Cascadia is a befitting title when it feels like you’re living under a waterfall.

I just saw a news photo of Englishman River Falls, near Parksville. There was no sign of the falls; torrents of rain had filled the canyon to the rim. Closer to home, one of my favourite photo spots, Sooke Potholes, is closed to the public. No one wants to see the same kind of tragedy that occurred there last winter, when three young men were swept away by similar torrents in the canyon of the Sooke River.

Cabin fever drove Amanda and I out of the house, on Saturday. In my mind, I saw one of those “mist-tangled tree” shots waiting, so I returned to the place where, earlier in 2020, I made the photo I called Endurance (renamed Enduring). Those lone trees, battered by winds off the Strait of Juan de Fuca, spared, so far, by development, represent some kind of noble tenacity in the face of outrageous fortune.

Their shape and condition speak to me of storms weathered.

I feared that my camera gear would not survive as well. Though “weather-sealed,” the conditions required something more like an underwater housing. I opted to record the outing on the GoPro camera, which is more suited to submersion.

The soggy micro-adventure inspired dreams of wider panoramas and more distant travel, when conditions allow. And by “conditions,” I mean not only a future beyond the pandemic, but one where a return to health allows greater freedom, as well.