Bob Hunter

VANCOUVER was gone. Air-brushed away like

© strictly personal

ae

‘something in an attic muffled in cobwebs. There
were no high-rises. The North Shore didn’t exist.

Neither did the whale-back
of Stanley Park. Bowen
Island was a mystery. In
fact, it was easy to believe
that the date was 1786, in-
stead of 1986. But why stop

i there? It might have been the
year 1 million B.C.

“When the Point Atkinson
lighthouse gronked out its
warning, it sounded like
nothing so much as a
dinosaur wailing for its
young. The universe was
feathered in milky down.

English Bay, now
nameless as an undiscovered
inlet, was empty. There were
no sailboats, no motor
boats, no fishing boats or
freighter or kayaks or wind-
surf boards.

The sun was a bronze orb
that cast no shadows, that
might have been the moon in
the day for all the effect it
had.

If anyone had been there,
he .would have thought
himself to be in a timeless
void, suspended far from the

} usual notion of reality.

The. wailing of the

f dinosaur (or lighthouse) was
an incredible piece of
stereophonic sound. It
.throbbed upon the water,
revealing itself as a vibration
more than anything else.

As to whether it was real
or not, well, since no one
was there, it is hard to say.

Just as it is hard to say if
what follows really

| happened.

For, suddenly, there was a
stitring in the waters. At
first, it seemed like a
maverick wind gusting from

‘the direction of the dinosaur,
if that’s what it was. There

-was a whoosh, whoosh,.

whoosh, as if the water was
being displaced.on a massive
scale.

| “Tt would not
have taken a

i great deal of
imagination to
‘realize that it
was, despite

_Peverything that
| reason might
say, exactly as

| though a
gargantuan boot
was coming
down.”’

Then, clearly, came the
sound of a tremendous
SPLASH, as if part of a
mountain had decided to

return to the ocean from’

§ which it had emerged a
billion years before.

Now the turbulence
became ferocious. There was
sloshing and gurgling.
Perhaps a titanic drain had
opened.

If anyone had been there
to see it, they would have
noticed that two great holes
had opened in the water. Not
whirlpools. Holes. By way of

measuring, the observer, had
there been one, would have
thought to hirnself that these

two holes were each the size [

of an apartment block.

One disappeared. The im- |
pact of the water crashing |
back, exactly according to }

“Maybe it had
just blundered
into this
dimension,
whatever it was,
and as quickly
had blundered
out again.”’

Archimede’s Principle, into
the void, was enough to have
set even a freighter, had

there been one around, to j

wobbling like a rubber duck.
If there had been any
sailboats, they would have
leapt and bucked.

Now, explosively, another
hole. opened. It would not

have taken a great deal of |

imagination to realize that it
was, despite everything that
reason might say, exactly as
though a gargantuan boot
was coming down. Then the
water rushed in to fill the
other original hole. And
another hole opened, again
with a crash and stish of
much displaced water, its
edges licked with foam.
The distance between the
new hole and the ones which
had vanished was about a
quarter of a mile. if an in-
visible Gulliver had been
wading across fog-wrapped
English Bay, this was exact-

fy the phenomenon one }

would expect to see.
And then, as abruptly as

it had begun, the splashing |
stopped. The water roared |

back into the twin columns
drilled in its smooth grey
flank, Whatever it was that
had started stalking across
the bay had vanished. Well,
not vanished, since it had
never appeared. But its
mighty footprints in the
water were gone, and that
was what counted.
Maybe it had just
blundered into this dimen-
sion, whatever it was, and as
quickly had blundered out

again. Maybe there were in- |

visible interdimensional
gateways located where no

one had ever noticed themin }
the bay itself, not far from {

the Point Atkinson
lighthouse, or the lonely
dinosaur, whichever it was.

The water calmed down.
The ripples, if that’s what
they were, extended
themselves as far as they
could, then settled beneath
the surface,

NORTH Vancouver City
Council has appointed a new
city clerk.

He is Bruce Hawkshaw,
who since 1976 has been the
city's director of personnel
services,

Hawkshaw is a graduate

982 PARK ROYAL SOLITH
WEST VANCOUVER 926-7243

of U.B.C. where he received
his Bachelor of Commerce
degree.

In his municipal ad-
ministration course through
the Institute of Chartered
Secretaries and Ad-
ministrators he was awarded
the Gold Medal, presented

{
to him/ by the Governor-
General! of Canada, for at-
taining /the highest aggregate
mark ‘over the four-year
term.

Hawkshaw, who grew up
in Worth Vancouver, is 41
years old, and lives with his
wife/and family in the city.

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