Nanaimo Neck Point Herring Spawn

I thought the season had truly ended, the curtain closed and the coast settling back into routine. But the wild has a habit of slipping you an encore if you’re still listening.

Word trickled through the grapevine – a cluster of sea lions had taken up residence on the rocks at Neck Point, far closer than they ever usually ventured. Rain or not, I grabbed my bike and rolled down through the drizzle, camera bouncing in the pannier, heart quietly hopeful.

Approaching the point, the usual urban soundtrack faded, replaced by the low, guttural chorus of the sea lions. They were everywhere – dozens sprawled across the boulders, their wet fur glinting silver in the clouded light, their barks echoing across the inlet. Some napped, some argued, some seemed to be simply enjoying the view. The closeness was startling. I kept my respectful distance but let the lens drink it all in, grateful for the chance to be a silent observer.

Dog walkers and joggers stopped, watched, and moved on, but I lingered as long as I could, letting the rain soak in and the wildness settle. There was no fanfare, no spectacle – only the quiet privilege of witnessing something rare, unforced, entirely on the animals’ terms.

It was the perfect coda: a wild gathering at the edge of the city, reminding me that the best encounters are the ones you could never plan. Sometimes, if you’re patient, the wild comes to you – no chase required.