Have you ever played the game #RoseAndThorn? Every weekend after a #camping/ #surftrip we all say ''rose and thorn'' like a hundred times, then one at a time we share our shittiest moment of the trip and the best one. So, I'll got first! My Thorn of the trip was leaving the beach just as the waves were getting jumbo and clean. My Rose of the trip was super gluing a loonie (Candadian $1 coin) to the floor of the ferry and watching people fail to pick it up.
Onshore, I meet Gordie's wife, kids and grandchildren. He see’s his family off and comes to meet Logan, and the boys. He joins us for a beer and fills us in on the history of generations, the land, and the other possibilities of waves. We exchange emails so Gordie can hold onto some photos from the day. He gives me his home address, offering us the cheapest snow crab we’ll ever find. Then he points behind him “Just drive up the hillside there and I’ll take you boys fishing next time you’re in town.” On the way home we decided to name the wave after him.
Even as a kid, I had a reputation. As soon as I was put in the school system I was branded a dumbass and placed in a special room with two or three other students. I was a nuisance to authority. I spent a lot of time eating lunch in the principal's office. I wanted to be outside. Words & photography extract from my "Bad Reputation" article Published in Desillusion Volume 2.
Photography navigated my life through the bullshit, allowing me to secretly expressed myself in a less harmful way than drinking and adrenaline. I placed undertones of anxiety, loss and regret in my work, while relating to my surroundings. By telling my story through photos and words it allowed me to connect with a lot of people who normally wouldn’t open up. Photography gave me a golden ticket into these people's homes and minds. Words & photography extract from "Bad Reputation", a new piece Published (in print) for Desillusion Magazine.
The treasure will likely be his death.
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.
We were back in small town Montañita, Ecuador and we'd lost Juan for about 8 hours. It was really unusual as we were always together and he'd never skip out on the swell that had started to fill in. We went for a damn good surf and ate lunch and went for another one. Still no Juan. "The hell?" I thought. We were starting to get worried. Late that evening he walked up the stairs and we yelled "Juan where the heck have you been!?" and he replied "Just talking to my beautiful girlfriend back home." Then about five minutes later he said "Oh, and I got into Harvard today."
A bad combination of fear and addiction.
Smoking isn't cool... anymore. I use to smoke. Especially on these trips. I felt like it was a free for all. It's more accessible when you're down south and it's a sixth of the price, and even deadlier when you can by singles. If your trying to quit you rely on the singles. If you don't smoke, you smoke the singles. And no one you know is around to judge! Bob here, he was always concerned about my health though. He didn't smoke. But for this photo I asked him to look tough and pose with a dart. You know, to put contrast on things. Turn it around. Make cool uncool, and to use him as a reflection of myself. I'm almost a year smoke free!
Not much was spoken on the ride over and even less when we were dropped off in the middle of town. Three of us had just gotten off a buss in a small town in Ecuador. We bumped into each other, trying not to be seen. Tired, warn down, and anxious, we paid ten bucks each for the second hotel we came across. It was over budget but we felt we wanted a secure environment for little first leg on the road.