The Importance of Green Spaces and Blue Places
I think we could all agree that we live in some crazy times. The world seems to be in a place of disorder. Many people I know don’t even read the news anymore. Stories of societal fragmentation. War and threats of more war. Inflation and homelessness. A hurting planet suffering from pollution, loss of biodiversity and climate change. It’s no wonder many people wake up in the middle of the night crying.
When it comes to dealing with the troubles of life, many doctors and mental health experts are reminding us that time spent in green spaces or blue places helps improve mental health and wellbeing by reducing stress, anxiety and depression. But it can also do more than that as I discovered one beautiful morning while floating 17 nautical miles off the coast of Ucluelet with a group of 4 anglers.
That day, a day I was supposed to have off, began with an emergency. A charter captain had double booked and was looking for a boat to take out one of the groups. When I found out about it, I immediately volunteered my services. And why not? Another day in paradise!
About thirty minutes later, I met my group. A dad, his two teenage sons and a friend of a family, another teenage boy. By the looks on their faces, I could tell there were some raw emotions still lingering from the mix-up. So, as warmly as I could, I introduced my self and then walked them to my boat.
It was a beautiful sunny morning with just a slight breeze and fairly flat seas. My destination was the La Perouse Bank, a fertile fishing ground I’d spent much of my summer. On a calm day, it’s just over an hour ride in my charter vessel.
Leaving the Ucluelet channel, I powered up and onward. However, twenty minutes into the trip, the dad came steaming into my cabin and asked “Where are you taking us?” “We’re heading offshore” I replied, “to a place called the Big Bank.”
The suggestion did not go over very well with him. Still reeling from the issue of being double booked, he yelled “stop the boat!” Surprised, I slowed to a stop. “I specifically told the other captain that I did not want to go offshore when I booked this trip” he said. “But that’s where the fish are right now” I replied. “I don’t care he said emphatically. “I don’t want to go any further.”
Lucky for us, we had stopped on another bank off the west coast of Ucluelet called the Amphitrite Bank. It’s a fishing bank that can be very productive at certain times of the year. But it wasn’t that morning. After almost ninety minutes of fishing, not a single bite.
Finally, one of the teenage boys quipped, “Come on dad, let Turk take us to the place he had originally planned. It’s got to be better than this.” The dad looked at me and asked, “How long will it take”. “Another forty-five minutes and we’ll be dropping lines” I told him. “Ok,” he sighed to the cheers of the boys, “Let’s go.”
On our way out, a very thick fog began to settle in, typical of many August trips to the La Perouse Bank. In fact, by the time we got there, the sun was completely blocked out by a thick layer of mist. That didn’t dampen my spirits though. Back then, the Big Bank had never disappointed me. And today was no exception. Within minutes of dropping lines, we had the first fish to the boat, a beautiful mid-teen Chinook salmon. Within an hour or so, we had enough.
Turning to my group, I suggested we try catch a few halibut. “Sure!” they all agreed excitingly. So down to the bottom we went, dropping lines to almost 200 ft. The action was slower which allowed me to find out a little more about my group. This is a part of chartering I love. Like fishing, I enjoy discovering who my guests are, where they come from, what they do or what gets them excited about life.
While trolling slowly through the thick mist, waiting for our first strike, I discovered that my group was from the mid-west of the USA. The dad was in the insurance business and the boys were all close to finishing high school. I also discovered they were all quite passionate about their Christian beliefs. In fact, the teenage friend of the family was someone the jokingly referred to as “the missionary kid”, someone whose parents were missionaries abroad.
As we continued our hunt for halibut, I can still remember how animated the boys where about their belief in God. I can also remember wondering if my face was showing just the slightest bit of hesitation. By the sounds of things, there was certainly some differences in our understanding of the Divine. Not that it really mattered that day. Keeping an eye on things as the conversation continued, I saw that oh familiar sight, a slight tug on the port side rod followed by another. Grabbing the rod out of the rod holder, I yanked hard. Yep, there was weight there. “Fish on,” I said as I handed the rod to one of the boys.
If you have never pulled up a halibut up from the 200 ft, the common phrase is “it’s like pulling up a barn door.” In other words, it’s simply pulling up a lot of dead weight. And it’s a lot of work as my teenage boys discovered. Pulling and reeling, they traded turns on the rod when, at last, after what seemed like eternity, we had our first halibut aboard.
Shortly after, the other rod went off. After another long stint of pulling and reeling, we had halibut number two onboard. Bleeding and placing the fish in the cooler, I was ready to drop the line again when I heard one of the teenagers cry, “Turk, please, not again. My arms are so tired from reeling, I don’t even know if they are attached to my body.”
We were all having a good laugh at this when suddenly, the sun began to break through the morning mist. To this day, I’ll never forget the moment. The sky all around us was aglow with a golden hue. And it was quiet, almost ghostly quiet. I slowed the boat to a stop and turned off the trolling motor. Bathing in the warmth of the sun as it was burning off the morning mist, water lapping gently against the side of the boat, I stopped everything I was doing and just stood still, mesmerized by the peaceful tranquility. And I wasn’t alone. My whole crew had stopped to and were taking in the magic of the moment.
Minutes later, after we all started breathing again, I looked around at my guests and said “wow, we need to celebrate.” So, we did, by sharing a communal meal. The boys jumped into action digging into the coolers and arranging a feast of buns, meat, cheeses and grapes on several of the cooler tops. Then, once we had all been seated, with food and drink in our hands, we cheered, or as they suggested, gave thanks. We then ate and drank, each of us enjoying each others presence in the presence of divine wonder. It was an unforgettable moment of joy and peace.
In today’s world of cruelty, chaos, and confusion, I often think of that amazing time on the Pacific. A trip that begun with some high negative emotions was eventually calmed by the awe and wonder of nature at its best. But there was something else I learned about that trip. Though we did not all share the same ideas or beliefs, our differences that day were transcended by a shared experience. Somehow, in that moment in time, we had become connected with each other and the world around us. And it was all good!