What we do in life…
I gave myself a fifty-fifty chance of returning to the place I swore I’d never return.
It’s fucking complicated.
October to March in Sechelt; April, 2016, in Halfmoon Bay, May in Edmonton, June in Halfmoon Bay, half of July in Sechelt, and here I am back up the Inlet…
Without a paddle. I actually forgot my oars this time. Heh.
But not the motor. S. Both.
Of them. I took the electric up, didn’t want to mess with the new outboard. (I was too [a) drunk b) stoned c) sore d) tired e) all of the above] to bother with something about which I had not learned very much.
However, I learned quickly…)
There she is.
And the fuel line for which I suffered so…
Four trips to Ukrainian Tire and 180 dollars later, I ended up with a 12-liter fuel line system that worked out very well. No troubles, Boychuk.
The outboard has an internal fuel tank, but it’s only 1.3 liters. Every hour or so I’d have to stop, shut it off, and refill it…on a rocking boat. Pfft…fuck that noise.
With the external, I can zip about all day and still have enough for another day.
There were some heavy storms here over the winter…all the driftwood furniture in my front yard has been rearranged, and a couple trees came down. Here’s one:
(Huge old rotten cedar fell right over the creek.)
And here’s another:
Old diseased western hemlock.
This one fell directly on the fire pit I beefed up last fall (and had built in September of 2014 when Brent and I were up here). It fell exactly on the spot I used to sit and heat up my tea last year…
Anyway. I came out here (on Sat., July 16) with the sole mission of leaving this area. For good.
And three days later I tried…my…damnedest…
There And Back Again: A Nord’s Tale
That’s my foot trying to steer me up Salmon Inlet.
Actually, I took most of it pretty seriously. I had to break in the motor, so it couldn’t go above a fourth throttle (two of its five horses) for an hour or so, and I did not know what kind of water to expect up this inlet.
But it was flat and not too windy. For an hour I puttered along…
[That clearing has a road I walked exactly two years ago…here’s the shot from that July:
Cool…the shot I just took from the water would place my boat on the far right.
And here’s where my ex and I hiked down along the creek/power lines to the shore in 2009. (That craggy bit to the left is called “Black Bear Bluff.”)
Cruising deeper into Salmon Inlet, the motor was plugging along nicely…
As I neared the spot I’d been waiting six years to get to, my spirits where high.
I began to see the peak of the massive mountain, and it’s many deep ravines…
Ah. What a beautiful spot…
I was feeling great…until…I saw something.
I Came, I Saw, I Left
Some manner of cock-smokers had already laid claim.
And they would proceed to destroy it all…
Progress…and what not.
I was upset. I thought bad things—
—I envisioned explosions and a stand-off leading to blood, death, and carnage….
I was choked, and moved no closer; I swung around and headed back. I had packed everything into the boat needed to set up another camp (although later I realized I’d forgotten the poles for my tent), yet, alas, the much-anticipated Camp #9 would have to wait….
I calmed down on the way home, puttering along at 3 horses.
I wish you luck, mountain.
Sun & Air
Glorious fresh air. And sun. And, aside from the boats, peace and quiet.
What happened doesn’t bother me anymore. S’all good.
New plan. I’m already studying my maps.
And I’ll have some help next month.
All for now.