OK, I’ve been plundering my old stock of photos and trying some newly-acquired editing skills to see what is possible. This shot from 2014, was taken at a train bridge that spans the mouth of the Vedder River where it empties into the much larger Fraser River. It was a awkward trek, as anyone who has walked any distance along train tracks will tell you. The ties that support the rails were never installed with a normal human gait in mind; the gravel that makes up the rail bed is large, angular, and easily displaced under your feet; the trains that go by force you off into the brush and thorns at the edge of the right-of-way. It’s not fun, so the destination needs to be worthwhile.
For some folks, coming here means a pleasant day spent fishing for the trout and salmon that make their spawning runs up these rivers. Others find their diversion in a leisurely paddle along the slow flowing waters. Whatever the pastime may be, it truly is done to pass time. Time is the constant. Time is the flow through which everything else passes.
The trains that cross this bridge—almost hourly—exemplify this as they speed along the rails. Their passage is predetermined by the placement of the rails they travel on. Various activities may occur on the train itself but its course is set. The future is set. Whatever we do to pass the time; the time will pass. The question is, what happens when the time is past? As a passenger on a train, I may look forward to visiting the different cars, taking part in different activities during the trip, or meeting others on the same journey; however, the destination is the reason I climbed on board in the first place. What lies ahead will inevitably come to pass; so, perhaps it would pay to check the ticket. Perhaps there is time to make the one change that really matters on this trip.