I’ve spent a lot of time in and around Comox Lake—watching the light shift across the water in the early morning, cold dipping in the winter months, listening to the quiet hum of insects along the shoreline, noticing how the creeks run cold even on the hottest days. This place isn’t just beautiful. It feels alive in a way that’s easy to take for granted until you really stop and pay attention.
In the summer, like many other Valley residents, I’m drawn to the lake for relief. When the heat settles in, the water becomes a kind of refuge—cool, steady, and familiar. Families gather at the edges, kids leap off docks, paddleboards drift quietly across the surface. It’s one of the ways we connect to this place and to each other.
“It’s invisible and easy to overlook—but it doesn’t just disappear”
But over time, I’ve also started to notice the more subtle ways we affect the lake, even when we’re trying to do the right thing.
How sunscreen ends up in the lake
Sunscreen is one of those things. We use it to protect ourselves, especially as summers grow hotter and sun exposure becomes more intense. But when we enter the water, small amounts wash off our skin and into the lake. It’s invisible and easy to overlook—but it doesn’t just disappear.
What oxybenzone and octinoxate do to aquatic life
Research shows that common chemical UV filters, like oxybenzone and octinoxate, can interfere with aquatic life. Even in tiny concentrations, these compounds disrupt the life cycle of small insects—the base of the food web—and affect the development of other organisms and fish.
When I think about that, I picture the whole system: the tiny drifting life, the fish moving through deeper water, the clarity of the lake itself. It’s all connected, and it’s more delicate than it looks from the surface.
What stays with me is this: the lake takes care of us. It provides drinking water for our community. It holds ecosystems we rarely see. And it offers us comfort, joy, and a sense of belonging—especially in uncertain times when so much feels unstable.
That relationship feels worth protecting.
Switching to mineral sunscreen
The good news is that small changes really do make a difference. I’ve started shifting my own habits in simple ways—choosing mineral-based sunscreens with zinc oxide or titanium dioxide, applying sunscreen well before I reach the water, and leaning more on hats, long sleeves, and shade when I can. These aren’t dramatic sacrifices. They’re small acts of care that add up over time.
“Protecting it isn’t about perfection—it’s about paying attention, making better choices where we can”
I’ve also seen more gentle reminders popping up around the lake—quiet nudges from local groups, shared awareness among people who love this place. It gives me hope. It shows that stewardship doesn’t have to be loud or complicated. It can be thoughtful, collective, and rooted in respect.
When I stand at the edge of Comox Lake now, I feel both gratitude and responsibility. This water has shaped so many of our lives. Protecting it isn’t about perfection—it’s about paying attention, making better choices where we can, and remembering that even the smallest actions ripple outward.
