04/28/2026
The Heavens Declare over Poverty Bay
The crew of the SUN SPIRIT thought they were running a routine cargo leg destined for Phillips 66 Ferndale Refinery, a mundane push through dark waters under a ceiling of oppressive, heavy cloud. For hours, they had seen only shades of gray, the vastness of the Pacific a reflection of the monolithic sky above.
Then, the world split open.
This wasn't just a break in the weather; it was a performance. Far off the coast, where the dark silhouette of the Olympic Peninsula creates a sharp horizon, the heavy clouds parted as if pulled back by unseen hands. It created a massive, perfect gap, and in one swift motion, the late afternoon sun didn't just shine—it erupted.
It formed what we call "Crepuscular Rays"—the technical name for these shafts of light that seem to converge in a singular, divine spot. But to the crew looking out from the bridge, they were nothing less than 'The Chariots of God,' pouring out of the dark void and flooding the distant, forested land and the dark water with a pure, concentrated golden light.
The light was so intense it looked solid, creating a series of golden paths on the water. For a few brief, silent minutes, the barge and its smaller companion tug were frozen in a moment of sheer, unintended poetry.
This is a reminder that even when the sky is darkest and the road ahead is obscured, there is often a powerful, brilliant light just waiting to reveal the path. You just have to hold on long enough to see it.
Photo © 2026 David Rosen/SlickPix Photography
