On a serene Sunday morning in Vancouver, BC, the sky unfolded a spectacle that defied all my years—more than four decades—of skywatching experience. The day was painted a sharp, clear blue, interrupted only by a high-altitude chemtrail cutting a pale line from south to north. It was nearly overhead, slightly to the west, when, almost impossibly, a brilliant, bright circle materialized out of nowhere, seemingly within the very chemtrail itself. Imagine Venus, blazing in the daylight sky—such was the scale and brilliance of this mysterious object.
I estimated its altitude at over 30,000 feet, its size captivating and unmistakable. What truly held my gaze was its unwavering procession—a perfect, straight line sailing from west to east directly above me. For about thirty minutes, this radiant circle maintained its course, its brightness never faltering, never dimming. It moved with an eerie calm, unruffled by wind or whim, steadily climbing until finally, it slipped beyond sight into the heights above.
What enthralled me was this eerie constancy and the aura of light that surrounded it, a haze that lent it an otherworldly glow against the chemtrail backdrop. This encounter was unlike any other I’ve witnessed in a lifetime of skywatching, a reminder of the mysteries that still linger just beyond our reach, writ large against the Vancouver sky.