he other day, I was bushbashing off-trail through rainforest near my home. It was lush and green. The smooth, clean trunks of coachwoods punched upwards. Vines looped from the sky. Ferns smothered the ground; the boulders were smeared with moss. The rain, meanwhile, was thumping down, and fat leeches sucked blood from my ankles. And what I was thinking about was…fish. Not the freshwater type that might swim up the clear, rushing creek I was walking next to; instead, I was thinking of the ocean
