Last week, partway through our BC trip, a few friends and I piled into a rental minivan and took off for Vancouver Island. After a long drive, we arrived at our Airbnb in Ucluelet.

Behind the house was an inlet lined with sprawling mountains. The water was so calm that it reflected the mountains like glass. Instantly, I knew that this scene contained some solid photography opportunities.

After getting settled in and having a few drinks, I impulsively decided to set my alarm for 6:30am. Mornings aren’t exactly my favourite thing, but after realizing that the sun would rise directly behind the mountains, I knew that my photographer’s FOMO, or “PHO-MO” as I like to call it, would be too strong to ignore. I fell in to a restless sleep and was awakened a few hours later by my alarm.

The early morning light was just beginning to seep in through the curtains as I dragged myself out of bed. I gathered my camera gear and snuck downstairs.

The scene from the back deck revealed exactly what I was hoping for; the faint blue of morning, dabbled with pink and purple, and the brightest spot in the sky slowly growing in the valley between two mountains. My excitement was palpable.

Before I could reach my desired spot, I had to overcome a few obstacles. The shot I really wanted lay at the bottom of the hill, on a small sandbank created by low tide. Standing on this bank, I imagined that I would be able to use the glass-like reflection of the water to mirror the mountains.

To get there, I would have to make my way through some long grass and brush. A small path had already been carved, either by the owners or other adventurous guests like myself, which helped. The plants along the path were foreign, and thoughts of exposing myself to some strange, poison oak-like plant filled my head.

I made it down the slope and stepped onto the shore. With the tide out and the underbelly of the ocean partially exposed, the surface wasn’t exactly steady; the mud was more like quicksand and slick seaweed coated most of the area.

I trudged on, my shoes taken hostage by the mud a few times. The closer I got to the sandbank, the deeper I sunk into the ground. I began to feel dirt, rocks, and water seep into my shoes. Soon, the leather of my shoes was no longer visible and I realized that I might as well have been walking barefoot.

I felt stupid for thinking that this trek was possible. I thought of turning back, and the embarrassment that lay ahead of me when I told my friends I had ruined a good pair of shoes for nothing.  For a few moments, I was completely miserable.

By some miracle, I managed to find a chunk of the bank that didn’t try to swallow me whole. Relief flooded through me. I had made it! In front of me was the scene I had envisioned, moments before the sun was about to rise.

I happily snapped away, catching a few “blue morning” moments and watched the clouds turn from pink to red. My world was still and silent, and as I stood alone, surrounded by ocean water, I wondered if any future moment would ever compare to this one. After taking in the scene and capturing some solid shots, I felt satisfied and started retracing my footsteps back to the house. I turned around for one last glance at the rising sun.

It was then that I noticed something odd and stopped in my tracks. I had overlooked a row of trees that were jutting out into the water and obscuring part of the horizon. Unsure of what was on the other side of the trees, I had to make a decision: do I continue back to the shore, or do I head further into the unknown? The mud could be deeper, and I could sink in even further than I already had. The sun had almost pulled completely past the horizon and the colours were starting to dissipate. Would the view be worth it?

Against my better judgement, I switched directions and trudged further out onto the bank. Not even ten steps later, a brand new scene erupted before me. Hiding behind the rows of trees, far in the distance but still visible, were the white capped mountains.

My eyes filled with tears and my breath caught in my chest. Had I not pushed forward, had I listened to the anxious voice inside that told me to return to the safe path, these mountains would have remained a mystery forever. By this I mean, while these same mountains may have exposed themselves at some point in a different setting or another angle, this exact moment and placement would not exist in my memory if I hadn’t taken those few extra steps.

I guess, in a way, we all have a tendency to find something good and simply stop looking. Find something satisfying, something that no one else may have, and think that it’s the best that we’ll get. Regardless of what that thing may be, perhaps if the urge to push further is alive within us we should follow it more often. I could have stood in my original spot and waited for the sun to rise completely, but I would have lost the best minutes of sunrise. I may have never gotten the chance to experience what I did.

After I returned to the house, I realized that I came out of the situation completely unscathed. I managed to avoid any poisonous plants and wild animals, and narrowly escaped getting sucked into the ground. All these fears that I had built up in my head proved to be non-existent threats. Aside from some mud on my shoes (which I easily washed off afterwards), physically I was completely unharmed.

There’s something truly magical in following a feeling and having it pay off. While I know that intuition isn’t always right, and sometimes a gut feeling or instinct can be misleading, it’s reassuring to witness it lead to something so inherently beautiful. Something worth it. Reassurance that a certain struggles can pay off in the end.