Boat Launch

Michae and I had a lot of trouble starting his outboard engine. He just bought it off Craigslist, and was reluctant to ask for help. So I manifested an old sailer man in a Hawaiian shirt to come by and point out the obvious. So he did. He and his daughter fixed boats for a living. But before I asked him for help, he yelled to her across the docks to look for "An old guy, by the boat launch, that looks like me, but who's... Native." Then he looked at me and said "Can I say that? My daughters always giving me hell for saying things I can't. I use to be able to say whatever I wanted." Then we laughed. I told him Native was politically correct, but not Indian, then asked him for a hand. Turned out we put the fuel line on backwards, and the gas wasn't making it to the engine. Though just as guilty as Mike, I poked some fun at him. Then the old guy with one leg said. "Hey, he doesn't have a nose ring buddy!" and I said "You're not allowed to say that." and we fucking lost it laughing. He reminded me so much of my dad. Same with when Michael was swearing at the boat engine, my dad did that a lot. Of course this old man disappeared into thin air without us able to thank him.

Baby, just break the rules.

This Is Why You Should Wake Up Early”

It was either the heat of the sun or the fact that I had just destroying everyone in a game of Settlers Of Catan, but everyone was hot as balls. With zero convincing, we jumped up, slapped the sand from our asses and paddled out into the surf in boardshorts and cutoffs. Remember, this is British Columbia, not Oaxaca, so the waves are small and cold year round. I wish I could show you the juxtaposition of everyone else wearing wetsuits booties, gloves, hoods but that shot didn’t turn out...  After shooting a few laughs with my 35mm thrift store reusable waterproof film camera, I surfed one in with my shorts on my head.

Moments before we watched two eagles fly towards us, through a gully. Like acrobats they tumbled in the air, as they fought over a fresh caught salmon. We all had cameras on us and none of us got the shot...

Between the wind and lack of supplies, our tarp systems can get pretty wild on these trips. A couple great friends taking shelter from the rain. 

The surf was small this day so I decided to write in my journal and make a fire while my friends paddled out. That's when I got chatting with Henk here. He is one of the infamous 'squatters' that were evicted from their commune back in the 70's. He told me stories about the homemade saunas he and his friends would lounge in naked, the empty waves, the music, the trek down and the isolation. Once again I thought to myself how the 70's here would have fit like a glove. The next day I walked down the muddy path with my board, through the trees but this time when I got to the beach there were six long haired greasy gals and guys running around naked in and out of the water. I stood there laughing at the serendipity and thought of my new friend Henk.