The water is so calm and smooth that I don’t even realize that we have pulled away from the dock and started our voyage. It is a dark, fog filled day; the view outside the ferry’s viewing lounge windows is a stagnant, flat gray – the screen of a turned-off television set. The increased vibration from the engines is the only signal that we are moving.
The ship sounds its horn every few minutes – a low and deep blast that gets absorbed and muffled by the gray purgatory that surrounds the ship. A lone sailor stands on the front bow and keeps watch forward.
The gray day depresses me. The crossing between Port Angeles and Victoria has always weighed heavy in my mind and today’s crossing even more so. Since Jen began going to school in Victoria, the white and gray Coho Ferry has either brought us together or taken us apart. It seems not to move just between our different landmasses but between our different worlds – it is our own private Charon.
Today, as I move to Victoria, my thoughts are centered on the land behind me. As my old life falls away behind the ship, I understand why the Ancient Greeks believed that a ferry would take them to their land of the dead. I’m tired and sad and I’m not ready to have my old life diminished to a place in dark fog and memory.
Then, all at once, we break free of the fog. Suddenly, we are in a clear bright day. Everyone in the viewing lounge squints as their eyes readjust to the light. The sunny, blue sky seems to stretch forever. In front of us, very close by, is Vancouver Island. Bright orange zodiacs full of tourists going whale-watching zoom to a point off our bow, and for just a second, I see the tail of an Orca stick out of the water. The tail is almost vertical, its dark flukes parallel to the surface of the water. It hangs there for a second and then slips under the water.
I watch for a while – more whale watching boats cruise to the area which rapidly drops behind us – but I don’t see any more whales. I walk the length of the ship one last time and as we enter the Inner Harbor of Victoria, I take one last look behind me. A seal sticks its head out of the water and watches the ship as it prepares to dock. I return to my car in a much better mood than when I left it.
The next day, I realize that from the bedroom of my new apartment, I can hear the ferry every time it enters the Inner Harbor. It emits a low, comforting blast from its horn.
