Brie goes for a run with us into the past
Nearly ten years ago was the first time I had made it down this path. Back then, I was a drunken teenager, toting a 2 litre bottle of Peach Canada Coolers down a steep and slippery slope. The goal: to reach the beach at the bottom, fondly reffered to as "Canadian Side." Now, being in Tsawwassen, we are pretty much on the border with Point Roberts, so yes there was an "American side" as well. Suffice to say, we never made the American side part of our summer nights out. Instead, we stuck to the tiny little beach that looked out over the Gulf Islands and the ferry terminal, where we would drink a hell of a lot, party and just act like the eclectic, rebellious, crazy, pot-smoking teenagers that we were.
I made a trip down to this beach the other day with a dear old friend of mine as he roped me into walking his dog, Brie, with him...yes he provided beer too, which sweetened the deal. He was back in Tsawwassen while his parents were out of town (whooo! Parents gone, house party!) and I had forgotten how cool his house was. Right on the bluffs above the beach. So with Brie in tow (actually Brie had us in tow) we made our way down to the waterline. We hashed about the good times, the drunken times; being chased by cops, finding people making out in the bushes (and getting caught doing this as well), having residents of the wealthy beach houses shine flashlights on us. As we walked over the shiny pebbles, worn smooth by the tide, I had a flashback to the first time I did mushrooms. I remembered how the pebbles moved together, like a thousand slithering snakes. Even now, it wasn't hard to imagine. Good times.
Nothing much has changed, except us. We have changed. We are older now and different...yet something still remains, I can see the teenagers in us occasionally coming out. I've still got a rebellious streak (nothing as bad as a certain someone who actually set fire to Canadian Side one fateful night, the last night I was there) and I still like to party while the sun is still up.
Oh yes, and they've put in a brand-spanking new staircase. That has changed. But I still prefer the old dirt path. You just never knew who you were going to fall on top of. Was all part of the excitement (plus provided to be a clever obstacle for the lazy Delta Police).
We capped the evening at the old bar. I recognized some faces, marveling at the fact that they still lived in town, looked the same. I wonder if they thought the same thing about us.
The view from Austen's old room