4 July 2024 – I am again approaching False Creek. Again. Yet again. For the umpty-third time.

Even so, I expect not to be bored. I am reassured by the wisdom of Heraclitus and, some 700 or so years later, Proust, who observed (respectively, in translation): “No man ever steps in the same river twice” and “The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new lands but in having new eyes.”

My eyes, and my feet and everything in between, we all step off West 1st Avenue near Columbia Street to head north into Hinge Park. It is a wetland park adjacent to False Creek, named for the sharp kink, the “hinge,” in the traffic grid right about here.

The park features a run of train track and buffer stops close to its West-1st edge, which is both a tribute to the area’s railway heritage and a handsome installation in its own right.

(If you like rust and industrial artefacts.)

Still morning, but already very warm. It is summer! I am hinged & heated indeed. The bullrushes and other greenery have erupted all along the tiny rivulet that runs through Hinge Park, almost completely obscuring the thread of water below.

It’s only when I reach the little mid-point bridge that I can look back and see the channel.

I also see the distant figures (left side of the walkway) whose animated conversation briefly filled my ears as I walked by.

A lanky pedestrian, a keen birder, is chatting with two Park staffers, who pause in their clean-up duties long enough to talk wildlife with him. “Yes,” says the vivacious young female staffer, “yesterday I see the heron, also this morning, and yesterday I see the dogs but not today.” “The dogs?” repeats the birder, puzzled. “In the water?” The woman laughs, waves her hands. “No, no! I must be so careful to pronounce! I mean ducks.” She repeats it, heavy on the final consonants. “DucKKSS.” Turns out she is from Mexico, and still getting her mouth around the physical shape of English words.

A quick look forward, from this handy little bridge, tracing the channel on north into False Creek…

and soon after here I am, on the SeaWall at False Creek.

Hinge Park is behind me, Habitat Island is before me and a horde of excited kiddies are in the causeway between the two, being sorted into teams for whatever adventure is next on the schedule.

I right-turn myself eastward, surprised by the lowest tide I’ve ever seen between the park and this island.

Traffic in the Creek to entertain me, as I walk along: a trim False Creek Ferry heading west with canoeists and a paddle-boarder in the background for company…

and then a bright red Japadog food truck to lure me onward to Olympic Village Square.

I resist, but I am tempted. I thoroughly enjoy this Vancouver A to the Q: “What happens when Japanese sensibilities meet North American fast food?”

A chattering group of friends relax in the sunshine in the Square — and, look, they are obeying the sign. They are not climbing on the artwork! (The Birds, 2010, Myfanwy MacLeod.)

A necessary sign, I have to add: attempting to scale the birds had become A Thing To Do, and as a result both installations needed extensive restoration.

One last False Creek image, a bright Aquabus ferry loading passengers at the Olympic Village dock…

and I finally turn away from the water, to zigzag back home.

(P.S. Heraclitus and Proust got it right.)