In the morning we took off down the road and found a shoulder high left. I shot some photos on the sidelines as I watch Logan Landry land a couple airs. An old man drove down the valley in his blue beater pickup, got out and walked towards me. I waved politely, unsure if I was trespassing.
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.
The first time I surfed was seven years ago. It was here in Tofino with four strangers, one of whom was Eliel Hindert. A small, bouncy, and enthusiastic professional skier, Eliel welcomed me into his car to ride the ferry, where I fell asleep under a row of seats with a newspaper as a pillow. The old, beat up car was parked below us, packed like a Tetris game. Looping through each door several times was one single piece of rope that secured the four pink and yellow sponge-top surfboards. When we arrived just outside of town, we set up camp and ate canned beans beside the local dump. The next morning, we bobbed on our rental surfboards like wet rats floating on driftwood. We were hooked.
Behind the scenes of our Exploring The Cold Coast Story, up on National Geographic Adventure.
Relating to joy. Almost there.
We were sick as fuck in a hotel we paid three bucks a night for. With bug infested bamboo walls, wet concrete floors, a sheet metal roof, no hot water, no shower curtain, no mirror, no toilet seat, and not enough toilette paper to wipe our asses and puke off the floor. The fourth time I puked my teeth and face went numb, then my face and hands started to contort and paralyze. I started hyperventilating and all my muscles started seizing up because I was so dehydrated. I then laid in my bed fidgeting, having a panic attack while two guys messaged my body and talked some nonsense about how I wasn't going to die. I was going crazy.
I just found this filter someone lent me back in 2006 for this photo. Woops. Probably my teacher. It's meant to make clouds more contrasty. I'll give it a go when I find the right sized lens. I remember this flight. The turbulence's were so bad the flight attendant had to come on the speaker and assure everyone we were going to be fine. My dad and I looked at each other and laughed hysterically at how upset everyone was. Sunken back in their seats, grasping arms rests, with heads cocked up, and eye's praying to the sky. We got a kick out of it. An old friend's mom probably still has this on her basement wall. #35mm # UnapologeticApologies
I've been flying high as hell traveling, shooting, writing, and meeting a lot of new people with real deal stories. In order to land back on the ground safely I've put together an online shop where you can swipe a credit card and buy prints! I'm hoping this will be a good foundation so I can continue to do what I love.
Head over to my shop to see what's good. These are all limited edition, signed, numbered, and professionally printed C-prints, starting at $100, $225, & $425, depending on size.
Free international shipping on all prints for the next week. Just use the coupon code "WANG".
I rented my first camera from Henrey's in grade 10 or 11. You'd put something like a 50 bucks down to rent it for a semester and then you could buy it at the end for another 50. My mom said "If you get an 'A' at the end of it all, I'll buy the camera for you." I ended up getting %100 in the class. An A plus. I was a C+ kinda of guy- then I said suck on that high school. Key West, Florida, Circa 2006.
Here's a photo from high school, circa 2006, leaving to Key West, Florida. First time I traveled with my camera. First photo I got into a cafe shop gallery in my hometown, Oakville. One of the last trips with my family as a whole. Fuck! I miss you dad... Anyways, I started scanning dozens and dozens of rolls of film today, dated back to the start of all this- grade 10 or 11- and then all the way into my alcohol, drug crazed days of Art School in 2009. What a trip it's been, thanks to those who've stuck by me while I freaked the fuck out. Lots of wild work so here's the first of my Unapologetic Apologies series.