Every day I leave the office it's dark outside. It's five o'clock and it's dark. It's really depressing. It makes me think slow. And use short sentences to communicate.It's a real drag because I'm prevented from doing the outdoor stuff that makes this town so bright and sparkly. Light reveals those fine, delicate details we've come to love: the fast lines on trails and cracks on crags - the tempting natural features that put aches in our legs and butterflies in our bellies.Darkness defies what it means to be a happy Squamptonian. Or does it?One day this week my significant other and I got home from work and wondered what we could do outdoors without getting hit by a truck on the highway. I suggested taking the baseball gloves outside and tossing around a flashlight - last one standing wins.That idea led her to suggest taking said flashlight to check out the chum salmon spawning in the streams along the Mamquam River near the Squamish Valley Golf and Country Club.And so we tromped over the surrounding gravel paths, the somewhat full moon leading the way beside the river. It was beautiful. Who needs sunlight when there is such a moon to light the way? We were about to witness the natural life cycle at its most real state. I was enveloped by romanticism as I wandered to watch dead fish. The sounds and smells of flopping decay soon hit us. Upon reaching the edge of a stream, the waters lit by our gentle beam, a large whitened salmon silently bobbed and peered up in desolation as others thrashed about. It was a theatre of frantic death. It was perhaps not the best place to shake off the winter blues, watching those determined life-givers pass over as they drove upstream to their inevitable demise. But it was fascinating. Hundreds of salmon were venturing home from the sea, laying eggs before they passed away for eagles, wolves and bears to tear them apart. We wandered along the stream as we took in this raw display. The struggling salmon continued, if not a bit livelier as we entered deeper waters. That's when we ran into a friend who was also looking to enjoy the salmon run.As the bear reared up, startled and rushing past into the trees, I second-guessed the prudence of our evening venture. Flashlight baseball sounded really fun at this point.We were in between a bear and its food. And we felt like fools skittering back along the riverside trail toward where the bear had escaped - our exit. Making whooping noises and clapping hands, we headed home. We flapped like fish but knew we'd survive if we reached the sweet street lights. The bear most likely returned to its dinner as we rushed to our lamps and Discovery Channel screens.
