By Sarah Pugh

A cool northerly March breeze skims across the top of the breakwater, but down below on the huge pink and grey granite blocks, the air is warm and summery. The sunlight dances on the small waves, making looking out to sea almost painful. People walk slowly down here, soaking in the warmth that reflects from the concrete and rocks, or they simply sit, faces turned to the sun, smiling at the foreshadowing of summer.

At the very end of the breakwater, a lone unsuccessful fisherman stands in a t-shirt, casting over and over into the water. He is reluctant to talk, but from above a voice laughs, "I'll tell you all about the fish I haven't caught here!" Peter Morris, an avid fisherman and recent arrival to James Bay, grins as he relates his Ogden Point fishing adventures. He's caught a few big ling cod, and some rockfish - but neither fish may be kept under current sport fishing guidelines. Morris, unperturbed by unwanted by-catch, says he gamely keeps fishing - for salmon.

There are stories, friend-of-a-friend type stories, about people catching salmon here, mostly springs (chinook). And doubtless some are true - enough, at least, to keep the hopeful casting in with their buzz bombs. Plans are afoot, however, to create a small, catchable salmon run at the breakwater.

Wayne Zaccarelli and the Amalgamated Conservation Society of Victoria are working on a proposal to release up to 100,000 hatchery pink salmon from pens inside the breakwater in early spring, for an anticipated return two years later. At the moment, they are entangled in bureaucratic red tape and a multitude of permits, but if all goes well the first pen will be anchored near the pilot boat dock in early 2009. If the project succeeds, the breakwater could see a small run of pink salmon each July or August. Anglers love pink salmon: they school and feed from the surface, so shore-based anglers can catch them without too much difficulty. Thanks to the small size of the pink salmon (5-8 lbs), children can easily land them too. Fishing advocates like Zaccarelli feel it's crucial to get children, particularly urban children, interested and successful in fishing early on, to spark an interest in salmon and salmon conservation.

Sun worshippers and fishing folk aren't the only people using the breakwater. Under the clear water on the outside wall, a paradise for divers awaits. Former James Bay residents Chris and Heidi Lamb relate how the breakwater remains their favourite place to dive. They enthusiastically describe the variety of life, the clarity of the water and more mundane features, like the easy access, the availability of parking, and the dive store with its supplies of air and its most welcome hot showers. While the two usually dive together, they claim it's easy enough for solo divers to just show up on the breakwater on a nice day and find someone else to dive with.

The breakwater boasts an exceptionally good environment for both novices and experienced divers, with many different depths and a system of flags and plaques that alert divers to what to expect in the area in terms of depths and the available sea life. Divers frequently see many different kinds of fish: kelp greenling, ling cod and rockfish most commonly, but also a type of perch that lives in the kelp beds, and occasionally octopus and wolf eels. Crabs, anemones, urchins and cucumbers also abound. Marine mammals visit sometimes too, harbour seals for the most part, but otters and sea lions have also been sighted. The harbour seals are the most fun, because they play in the divers' bubbles.

For the most part, the different communities that use the breakwater coexist peacefully. Divers are cautioned to watch out for stray fishing line and hooks, but incidents rarely happen. Chris Lamb recalls once, out of many dives, he got a fishhook in the thumb of his glove, but he insists that he's never had any bad experiences with the fishers themselves. "They ask us where the fish are," he laughs. Lamb expresses some doubt about the proposed creation of a salmon run at the breakwater, but thinks that overall, it wouldn't be a negative feature. "More fish for divers to see?" he wonders. His only real concern seems to be that the salmon might attract more sea lions. "Sea lions can be fairly aggressive. I don't know how to discourage sea lions."

The anglers, for their part, don't mind the divers at all. Some tell stories of how a diver found a prized, lost lure or gave them valuable information about where a big ling cod was lurking. (Ling cod can no longer be retained from the breakwater.) Hecklers walking atop the breakwater, however, can be distressing for anglers, nobody likes to be reminded of the emptiness of his catch bucket. Most passers-by encourage the tenacious fishing buffs, though, and just ask questions, if they even notice them at all.

Most of the people on top of the breakwater display obliviousness to the ancient struggle of man (or woman) versus fish below. They are gazing blissfully at the sparkling water or the snowcapped Olympic Mountains, or perhaps watching a seaplane take off or the Coho Ferry cruise by. Joggers keep their eyes fastened intently on the narrow path ahead, breathing in the fresh ocean air, and children marvel as eye-level seagulls glide by, almost close enough to touch.

The breakwater is one of James Bay's constant, defining features. It was built in 1917, long enough ago that few if any residents can remember a time it wasn't there. It is constructed from 125,000 tons of granite from Hardy Island, along with huge amounts of concrete and fill. It was originally intended not as a haven for divers, fishermen, strollers and joggers, but as crucial protection for the economically important wharves at Ogden Point. A marvel of engineering, it still fulfills that function, regularly withstanding the howling southeasterly gales, and incidentally creating an awe-inspiring display of crashing waves for onlookers on Dallas Road. It's a show that's just for watching, though, as the breakwater is closed to everyone when the weather is bad enough for it to truly "break" the water.