EAGLES EMERGE FROM the fog. Or maybe they’re ravens. Some are old, some new with brightly coloured wings. Several are broken and decaying.
They are burial totems, carved in memory of lost friends and family. They stand on the hillside facing the water. As the ferry approaches the dock at Alert Bay, they disappear from view.
I’ve come to Alert Bay with no former knowledge. Until a month ago, I hadn’t heard of it. My friend’s husband got work here and she and I have followed, always grabbing at the opportunity to see a new place.