We hop in a white F350 at 4am on our way to Cape Bretton. I slept in the back while Logan’s childhood friend Jetski Joe cracks a beer, then lights a joint as we get on the highway. I look out the window and watch the river’s move past. I doze off as the tiny valleys remind me of the old ski hills my family and I would snowboard on every weekend. The open plains, the wheat fields, the dark farm soil and smell of burning leaves remind me of my first ill prepared camping trip. Looking out the window I see lakes my dad and I would fish on - now he’s gone. "An unsettling feeling is creeping through the front door. A cold draft on a hardwood floor." Now I'm looking out the window and notice a small patch of dead trees that stand in a family of five. Shook and woken, I look to the windshield as Logan spots a wave.
A while ago I spent some time at Logan Landry's home in Nova Scotia. We surfed and traveled and I got to hang with some rad east coast fellas, as well his family. Here is a photo of Logan's Grandfather, Reginald, holding an antique gun in their barn. There was a small beam of light coming in through the stained glass window, so we propped a chair up on the 4ft. high pile of rickety stacked wood and took 35mm portraits of him and his grandson.
A bad combination of fear and addiction.
Sanitary standards for cooking are far more relaxed then we are used to back home. Unrefrigerated meat, poultry, eggs, cheese, and milk, unwashed vegetables and fruit, and tap water are a recipe for disaster. There's no telling how many times antibiotics and vaccines like Dukoral came into play and prevented us from getting travelers diarrhea. And at some point it will fail you as well...
Lobitos, Peru | These New Poutines | HP5 35mm film