norwegian

You go to the beach and think about sunsets and tide pools. You assemble a crew, initiate a ring leader, and use a Xerox of a photo of handwritten directions. You look weird at the trail head after taking a pitstop to look cool in and out of the car. You bring your rubber boots and fire starter so you can look at nudibranchs and play on rope swings before you get trapped by the tide. You eat soup. You always pay your respects.

Liz and Cass.

Jamie, Gabe, Johnny, and the spirit of Mandy.

Entrepreneurs of smile enterprises.

Boogie board, omnichord, Josefina's.

Check your pitch and roll, go left!

Swampy.

9ft tide swing and a Sea Lemon.

mogley

Mogley lives with his wife in a cabin on some land just west of Joyce. Often times he can be found at twin river beach picking up rocks, rescuing fossils, and looking for hitches to town. A true ambassador of the beach, all smiles, all the time. Today was his barter day, six pounds of coffee for who knows what.

sunset sessions

The Oregon coast is many different things to many different people. For us, it's the sport of surfing. Camping comes with the territory, cold misty mornings, spot checks along 101, failed dawn patrols. It's easy to get antsy, spend too much time in the car, just to get skunked at every spot. If the trip is long enough, good conditions are bound to roll through. Make sure you're in the water when they do, can't catch waves from the beach. At the end of the day it's always enjoyable to be on the coast, wearing your best cheeser, and soaking in the sunset.

Wright's for Camping, a nice little place in Cannon Beach.

Highway 101.

Waiting for coffee to brew before the hike.

Cape Lookout. Big sets were double overhead and a half. No one paddled out.

Concrete surfing when the waves go flat. Smooth, Oregon transitions.

Dry line at camp.

Locals only.

Ecola State Park.

Hemel fish.

Happy campers. Say cheese.

Cape Kiwanda. Big wave sunset.

sandwich

Sometimes the coast is warm. Most times it's not. Sometimes a ham sandwich tastes mighty fine.

Anthony, chowing down, February in Washington.

Panama - Four Places

We left Santa Catalina. The swell wasn't looking amazing and we had an itch to see the Caribbean. El Valle seemed like a good place to stop for a night on the way. Small mountain town with a nice climate and sweet views all around. Our hostel was also an Orchid nursery.

On the Caribbean side we checked out Isla Grande, an island that attracts vacationing Panamanians from the city. Sjef was one of them. He'd been coming to the island on weekends since he bought two hundred coconut trees twenty years ago. The coconut trees mark the boundary of his land where he built a house from scratch using bamboo and mahogany. He invited us to spend the night with him, fed us rum and coke, and told stories of working around the world for the UN Department of Fisheries.

Not wanting to overstay our welcome with Sjef, we missioned it to the city. We explored the zone near our hostel by foot for a couple days before the fellas flew home. Solo, I caught a bus to Bocas del Toro, an island archipelago on the Caribbean. A bit of surfing, a bit of party, and a week later I flew home. Thanks for the good times, Panama.

On the crown of El Valle. Pacific Ocean in the background.

Flowers at the Orchid nursery.

Forbidden City.

Accommodations for the night, Isla Grande. 

Sjef being a good host.

Sjef van Eijs, Dutchmen turned tropical.

At the mall in Panama City. Food court. Apple Store. Are we in America?

Old Spanish building. Needs a bit of renovating.

Shipping vessels waiting to make their passage through the canal.

Found some acrobats on the beach.

Bus station or mall?

Bocas del Toro.

Bocas gas station.

Last cup of ceviche.

cape lookout

Old negatives from a trip to Cape Lookout, Oregon.

west coast trail

The word "adventure" gets thrown around a lot these days. I hear it mostly at college parties. People adventuring to the gas station to buy booze, adventuring to the park to smoke a joint, or adventuring home to pass out. These are all fine weekend activities, but I don't agree that they should be considered adventures. Adventure implies an experience that is thrilling, hazardous, and unknown. Some say an adventure is an experience you were glad happened but you wouldn't want to go through again. I know people who buy beer at the gas station every week.

Last summer I walked a 75km stretch of coast on Vancouver Island known as the West Coast Trail. For three days, my friend Graham and I bussed, ferried, and thumbed our way north from Seattle, camping along the road until we reached the trailhead in Bamfield. We packed light and ate mostly oats. Eight days later we emerged from the trail with mud in our boots, sand in our sleeping bags, and some photos.

Day three into the trail I slipped on a boardwalk, caught a nail in the knee, and thought about calling for evacuation. I stayed on the trail with Graham's reassurance and a phone call to the nurse informing me I was up to date on tetanus shots. Two people struggling over driftwood on the way to the toilets gasped at my bloodstained bandage, convinced I wouldn't finish the hike. We ran out of first aid supplies and water treatment, bumming both from other trekkers each night at camp. Groups with extra freeze dried meals took pity on our rudimentary diet and gave us their spare rations. Other hiker's maintained a far more pleasant attitude. Doug and his son Justin, of Langley, BC, had the most stoke on the trail. They have completed the route several times and referred to Graham and I as "Seattle's Best." We may or may not be the best Seattle can offer, but I'm still waiting for my first real adventure.

Backpacks with their owners mirrored behind.

Graham. The man with the plan.

Might have better luck if we spell "Bamfield" correctly.

Solid hitch.

A reminder that we are in the Canadian boonies.

The first of many gear drying sessions.

The West Coast Trail.

Ladder string from the trail down to camp on the beach.

Ferry crossing and crab shack.

Lunch.

Scored some prime real-estate, hard-hat included. 

Cable cars and ladders.

Longest bridge on the trail.

Shootin' the breeze with Doug and Justin.

Last ferry ride, trail's end.