Zide

He's shy. He doesn't like other creatures very much. He came from an oceanless planet in a distant galaxy, searching for fresh breaks and tasty waves. His home planet used to have seas teeming with life and energy, including some of the best swell in the universe, an interstellar surfer's paradise. Slowly but surely, his species' presence in the ocean turned the water to acid, and shortly after, the planet began to die. Hopping from galaxy to galaxy, planet to planet, riding waves when and where he can, he is content. His needs are simple, easily satisfied by harvesting the bounty of life in the shoals. He is always moving. He is Zide.

coffee with greg

Waiting for the surf to arrive. Making coffee in a make-shift shooting range.

drawing

I used to spend a lot of time drawing. Drawing is a very anaerobic, time consuming, obsessive compulsive, rewarding, and largely domestic activity. I hardly draw anymore. Instead, I choose to spend my time outside experiencing the natural beauty of the world that surrounds me, though I often think about retreating to the quiet life of the indoor arts. Here is a small sample of the people that motivate and inspire me to get out there. If it weren't for you, I would be drawing right now.

light and snow

The solstice is just around the corner. The light in the sky tends to be a good indicator of the season changing from warm to cold; dynamic clouds and soft sunrises. One thing is for sure, snow in the mountains means it's winter.

Highway 101, near Lake Crescent.

Looking East, between Kingston and Edmonds.

Dirtyface, Lake Wenatchee.

Yolo Banks

Summertime. The livin' is easy but finding waves ain't. In order to make it even harder, we hike six miles to a little cove that gets locked in at high tide. Little to no beta on the spot and variable surf forecast leading up to the hike, we figure we'll go for and see what we get. Yolo.

New spots become even more difficult to dial in with the pea soup.

KB, always a man of color.

This fella is hanging on, but some of his friends are disintegrating.

The rig, ghost ride the whip.

The bomb seaweed.

Rob and his stead.

All kooks to the peak!

Camp, felt like the lost boys up on the bluff.

Noodles, dogs, and chili. Grill came with the kitchen.

Scary story time.

warmer

The transition from season to season is often a blur. Nature has pleasant ways of showing us that we're turning the corner. Garden gnome or Morel?

bygone

We drive up the logging road and expect to see the deserted lookout. A Dodge Sprinter is blocking the view, rear doors open, a man sitting over a cook stove, peering at us through the crack between the door and and the vehicle's body. We eye each other the way strangers do upon first meeting. His name is Thomas, and his dog, Jefferson. They've been on the road for two weeks from West Hollywood, and here we are, camping together near the edge of the continental US.

Thomas shares his meal with us, tells us about his life, and invites us over to his van later to play music with his guitar, bongos, and keyboard he powers with a battery charged from a solar panel. We invite him to share our campfire. He offers us vodka infused with honey from the bees he keeps. We offer him razor clam ceviche our roommate made. He asks us about life in Washington, surfing, and what drives us. We ask him about his trip, the van, and Jefferson. It's a moment from a bygone era, a time when people travelled simply, camping together, and sharing food, stories, and the road.

The view, looking West Northwest.

Thomas has been learning the flow arts.

Jefferson, friend and security system.

Poi spinning, one of the ways Thomas flows.

Living in a car or driving a home, either way he's got a cozy setup.

ripples

Little ripples from far away.

lake mills

Winter means we're back on the Elwha project. The goal is to get plant regeneration off on the right foot by putting thousands of native plants in the ground. Constructing access trails for hiking plants to revegetation sites is critical. With dam demolition nearing completion, and the park getting ready for the hordes of visitors that will come to view the newly drained reservoir, we're beginning to transform access trails into pathways ready for the public.

Hiking out to the planting site.

Clear, cold days. The worksite got two hours of sun.

Two sentinels, watching the old lake bed from their posts.

Only 30 feet left to demolish. These upper pieces will remain as a memorial.

Filling turnpike before covering with top dressing.

Taylor, posing with the tool of choice, demo site in the background.

One big chunk of cedar equals five cedar beams.

Shane, chief gravel coordinator.

Hot lunch.

Sam, scoring logs embedded in the fine sediment.

Brand new trail with a brand new feature. Three years ago this photo would be ten feet under water.

Elwha River, Lake Mills, Mt. Fitzhenry, and Mt. Carrie.

new year

The ocean has been giving gifts of all shapes and sizes this holiday season. We've been running around trying to unwrap as much as possible. Merry winter and happy new year.

Finding some nice lines away from the coast.

Looking for gems in the soup near Ocean Shores.

Ask and the Jetty delivers. Merry Christmas from Westport.

(note the surfer paddling to the left for scale)