Rounding a corner in the
Vancouver Aquarium, I come face to face with a creature that has frequented my nightmares since I first caught a glimpse of it several years ago on a cold gray morning sitting in a rowboat in a British Columbian inlet. I was keeping a watchful eye on a large black bear a hundred yards or so away onshore when the profound stillness of the dark water was disturbed by a rippling motion just alongside the boat. Glancing down, I saw a long, undulating
thing on the surface, vividly mottled and incredibly fast. With a startled yelp, I grabbed the oars, but before I could even muster a stroke, it had vanished just as quickly as it had appeared.
It imprinted itself on my subconscious, however, and hence the unsettling dreams. Now, however, I can see the formerly mysterious creature has a name, the wolf-eel, and I read the description of its characteristics and habits. After watching it glide innocuously along the bottom of its tank for several minutes, I become certain it will make no further nocturnal appearances.
Those whose imaginations are fueled by thoughts of what lies in the cold waters of British Columbia will find the "Treasures of the B.C. Coast" section of the Vancouver Aquarium much to their liking. Great tanks of nacreous green sea anemones pulsate in artificial wave surges, delicate nudibranches, transparent jellyfish, and colorful echnoderms flaunt their rococo forms in a variety of tanks, while awed visitors stand before the massive Pacific Coast tank teeming with a cornucopia of sea life.

Kids are encouraged to have a Ribbiting Experience in a playful exhibit on frogs, while the ever-popular shark display draws its share of visitors who respectfully regard its restless, and possibly hungry, residents. There are warm-water fishes, as well, in the Tropical Zone, not to mention the almost compulsory section on the Amazon Rainforest, which I find rather uninspired, though perhaps I’ve merely become blasé after having seen several similar exhibits elsewhere.
But the stars of the aquarium are undoubtedly the marine mammals: seals, otters, dolphins, sea lions, and beluga whales. I catch the tail end of the beluga whale show, then spend a rapt half-hour or so watching the trainers continue to work with their charges. I’ve been on whale watches and seen killer whale shows, but none of those experiences were as captivating to me as the belugas, with their engaging faces, complex vocalizations, and fluid grace.

After the training session has ended, I go to the underground viewing area to watch the belugas underwater. Lacking a dorsal fin, their movement seems more an ectoplasmic glide than a swim, an illusion accentuated by their ghostly white color. Watching the hypnotic water ballet of the beluga whales was, in my opinion, in and of itself worth the not insubstantial price of admission.