A new definition of wet

 

Grassy fields turned into lakes at Jericho Park on Sunday afternoon, thanks to about 150 mm of rain. Climatologists said we've just experienced an "atmospheric river." 

A few years ago, I’d never heard of polar vortexes, heat domes or atmospheric rivers. We just said it was bloody cold, scorching hot, or raining a monsoon out there.

But now that we’ve all tapped into climatologist-speak, I can report that “atmospheric river” is a good description of what walking on Jericho Beach felt like on Sunday afternoon. With rain falling from above, pooling at my feet, and moisturizing me under my umbrella, it was, yes, a little like swimming through water-saturated air.

The U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration describes atmospheric rivers as “rivers in the sky.” They are long, narrow regions in the atmosphere that carry an amount of water vapour “roughly equivalent to the average flow of water at the mouth of the Mississippi River,” according to the administration website.

When this vapour makes landfall, you get this weekend’s Jericho Beach – a transformed topography of islands, streams, lakes and peninsulas, a puzzle for rain-suited dogs and humans alike. A place where runners stop suddenly at the sight of ducks and geese swimming over their usual running paths. A place where the ocean creeps up the sand, past the summer lounging logs, as if eager to join the newly created lakes and streams.

In the past, we’d just say we’d had one heck of a wet weekend. But if we've really been walking through the equivalent of the average flow of the Mississippi River, maybe a little hyperbole is justified.

Where does the ocean end and the newly created lakes begin? Water has crept up past the beach logs, but beyond them, people are walking out on a sandbar. In the distance, there are the freighters and cloud-socked-in mountains.  

Sandbags like these around the entrance to a washroom are piled up in many places to keep the water out.

Here's a main walking/running path that ends in a lake. Ducks and geese are enjoying it.

Everywhere, new ponds have appeared wherever there are depressions in the ground. 

Walkers stand and stare at the new terrain. The dog carries on as usual. 

This little picnic table sits in its own private pond. 

Another view of the water-dotted, water-logged landscape. 

The ocean again, with the logs and the walkers. 

In another section of the park, there have always been ponds, but they're bigger and fuller now.