Submitting to the Summit.

Victoria, BC – Seagulls rested, poised, as dying salmon struggled upstream to spawn.

Each breath brought another push, or another bite at an offending fish, as Chinook, Coho and Chum made the final push through the shallow waters at Coldstream, their bellies scraping against stones. Occasionally, there would be a great splash as a silver dart would summon the strength to sprint several feet, its tail slapping several others in the head. With its declining thrust, the current would reduce the salmon’s efforts by at least half and it would be dragged back to slower-moving pools.

It was often tough to watch these large fish, already picked-at and missing chunks of flesh, struggle so mightily. But Mother Nature’s resilience was also evidently on display – with no energy to push another foot farther, a salmon would lash out with sharp teeth at one trying to take its resting place. Survival of the fittest, children.

We were at the beginning of the trail to the top of Mt. Finlayson for the day’s hike. It rained and was relatively cool as we wove through steep treed sections and bouldered over waterfalls as we approached the summit. Some of the narrower, wet footholds with steep drops below reminded me that heights are not always my favourite thing.

We had a great view of grey when we reached the top of the two-kilometre climb, but as is so often the case, the hike was more about the journey with good friends than the destination. The sun decided to shine through the trees as we took the safer way down the mountain – an eight-kilometre stretch weaving past waterfalls, homes and fog-filled valleys.

At times, though, I felt I was moving as slowly as some of the salmon we had seen earlier.