Wreck's serene theatre

The sea kayaker I'd glimpsed paddling in the distance was already naked by the time I pulled my canoe ashore on Wreck Beach. In a scene that might easily have been lifted from a beach in the South Pacific, she slowly waded into the surf, lifting her arms into the air to salute the morning sun that was just beginning to climb above the cliffs of Point Grey. Head to toe, her smooth body was uniformly brown. So was that of the wrinkled matron who wiggled her feet in the sand nearby.

A skimboarder chucked his deck ahead of him and raced to hop on. In case of a tumble, his surf trunks offered limited protection. From experience, I knew he'd get just as much sand wedged in his butt crack if he rode in the buff. Farther along the shore toward the rocky breakwater that juts out into the Fraser River's North Arm, a toddler outfitted in a summer smock searched for Nemo among the minnows while her father kept her in sight. Judging from his tan line that ended just below the neck, I figured his alabaster body told the tale of most visitors: too little time spent exercising their clothing-optional rights on Wreck Beach. With summer upon us, that's all about to change.

By my estimate, it's been almost 30 years since an article on Wreck Beach last appeared in the Georgia Straight. In a 1978 column titled "Sunstroke", theatre critic Tom Shandel wrote: "Wreck Beach is theatre. Everybody plays to the sun…definitely the absolutely best place to be on a hot July afternoon for a sometime drama critic, especially midweek, when all the unemployed, including most actors, directors, and writers, are also exposing themselves."

Author Trevor Carolan, who began visiting Wreck Beach in the late 1960s, would concur. When contacted by phone, the Deep Cove resident was putting the finishing touches on his new novel, Wreck Beach Stories, based on journals he kept during the 1970s and early '80s. "To be a regular was to be unemployed, underemployed, independently wealthy, or an artist," he told the Georgia Straight. "Half the bodybuilders in town used to work out there. It was a natural incubator for creative talent and certainly gave me a sense of what poet Gary Snyder meant by a 'literacy of place'. Wreck Beach is rooted in primal majesty."

Unlike most beaches in Vancouver, with imported sand and where driftwood lies in orderly rows, Wreck exudes an atmosphere of West Coast au naturel. When friends are visiting from out of town, this is one of the first places I take them, especially if they're hungry for a quick look at the ocean. We typically head past Spanish Banks West on Northwest Marine Drive to the Pacific Spirit Regional Park entrance at Acadia Beach and begin exploring from there.

A short stroll leads downhill past several picnic tables set on a wide, manicured lawn to a walking trail. Signs announce that west of here clothing is optional, not that there's much initial inducement to shuck one's duds. For starters, open beach is at a premium. A deep hush emanates from the dense forest shading the hillside. Net-casting anglers clad in hip waders interspersed with long-legged blue herons stand in watchful anticipation of schools of surf smelt.

Near Point Grey at the peninsula's western tip, the hillside gives way to open cliffs. On the beach below the UBC Museum of Anthropology, winter storms have mired driftwood in the narrow strip of sand that curves its way past graffiti- emblazoned con?crete gun towers, relics of the Second World War. This stretch of coastline west of Trail 4, one of four numbered beach- access trails on Marine Drive, is informally known as Shangri-La, or Robinson Crusoe's beach. Regulars have been gathering here since the mid-1970s, and by now most are well-acquainted. Each spring, volunteers rebuild the small beach, clearing driftwood into tiers and moving barnacled rocks to allow swimmers easier access to the sandy shelf just offshore.

A lone tree anchors Point Grey. From here, Vancouver's skyline is hidden from sight. The wilderness atmosphere evokes a feeling for what the harbour must have been like before the arrival of European settlers, when the Musqueam First Nation held sway. Tall poles ceremoniously thrust skyward on the broad, sandy beach nearby. This popular section, dubbed Coney Island, receives the most care from members of the Wreck Beach Preservation Society. Driftwood logs have been hollowed out, filled with topsoil, and planted with lilies, roses, peonies, and even a palm tree. Massive wooden stumps and carved stools stand on a raised sand dais as if ready to host a pagan solstice ritual. This is the epicentre of Wreck Beach.

Given its notoriety as a nude beach, one of the most surprising discoveries is how many sunbathers opt for some degree of attire. Whether this is a matter of relief or disappointment for the groups of Asian tourists who make up a sizable portion of those who negotiate Trail 6's many hundreds of steps is uncertain. With the crackdown on unlicensed vendors in recent years, I was certainly nostalgic for the days when a host of characters, such as a beer vendor christened St. Heineken, a Jamaican patty man, or the fabled "Chow Scow", a marine landing craft equipped with gas-fired barbeques, sparked what Trevor Carolan recalled as "a quantum leap in vendorology".

Turning my back on the ocean, I looked up from the beach. Nothing but green trees and blue sky greeted my eyes. It didn't take much imagination to picture the change that will occur if UBC proceeds with plans to build a series of apartment towers overlooking this beach. Judy Williams, who chairs the Wreck Beach Preservation Society, laments the fact that dealing with this latest issue severely restricts her beach time. When asked to define Wreck Beach during a telephone interview with the Straight, the long-time activist noted a 1981 agreement with the provincial attorney general's office that classified it as the 7.8-kilometre stretch of shoreline that straddles the peninsula between Booming Ground Creek and Acadia Beach. "This beach is for all people, all ages, all styles of dress and undress. A true mix of humanity. You don't have to explain yourself to anyone here. The wattage of your smile says it all." -

ACCESS: For information on Wreck Beach, contact Pacific Spirit Regional Park, 604-224-5739, or check out www.gvrd.bc.ca/parks/. The Wreck Beach Preservation Society posts guidelines on beach etiquette at www.wreckbeach.org/ as well as updates on forthcoming public meetings. The society's annual fundraiser, the Bare Buns Run, takes place on August 21.