One Last Stab
While finally getting my shit back together, in early 2012, I put the past aside and make fresh plans.
Finally got back to the coast in July, 2012. First plan was to head out and check on the status of the gear Aaryn and I had stashed there three years earlier (in Sept., 2009). So, first was getting out there and making a camp. Next was to check out the old stashpoint. And deal with life out there, out of shape, alone, in a spot full of memories of someone I used to care about.
I began salvage operations quickly. The weather turned crappy, suddenly, and I was soon at odds with this plan—I didn’t know how to move these many heaps of supplies and gear. Where to move it and how to get it there, with limited time and resources…?
Eventually I stashed everything I could salvage, went back to town, and then went to Edmonton for a while.
By February, 2013, I was back. The bulk of what I had stashed after the salvage operations (2012) had been brought back to town and was waiting for me in storage. Thus, in essence, I was starting all over again, as though those years in the mountains hadn’t happened. And, as it happened, I would not return to those mountains. I was gonna be a sailor…
The plan was now to start moving this stuff to another region along one of these other (less human-frequented) inlets.
But when I left for town at the end of April, I fucked up.
I fucked up again, financially, for May and could not leave. I would get a ride out for June, only to find that the boat and motor and battery and everything I stashed…was stolen. Gone.
More and more boats, more and more people…I began to get discouraged again—what was to be done? I needed a boat to get the fuck out of this spot.
Plus, I was sick.
Meanwhile, by late July, 2013, the lack of rain was drying up my creek really fast. Two others in the area were now undrinkable.
And I stayed in town for August, pissing away time and energy and falling out of shape, drinking too much, et cetera.
I was supposed to head back out in April, 2014, but I got sick, then I got sick again, so in early May, I was gone. With a new (really cheap-ass) kayak.
And I didn’t see fit to write about anything in May, since I did nothing but lie around, recovering from a nasty flu bug. Lung infection.
Anyway, I tried kayaking back and could not make it. I ditched it in Nine Mile Park and got a ride with a couple of dudes. Cramps in my bloody hands (literally, bloody).
Here I express my regret over leaving the Inlet at all.
June was useless, injured kneecap, injured back, then injured pectoral muscles and cracked ribs the next month, and yet back in town was worse.
Things at the Deck were so awful that I has no will to write down anything. Next entry is here.
September was the biggest Gong Show to date, and I was hoping to stay the winter at the Deck, but my finances fell apart and I was forced to go up for October, just because I could not afford to stay anywhere else…
It was a full waste of entire season, and it really pissed me off.
But oh well. A new year, and a new mission, and a renewed will.
And a new part.
[Part Four coming soon…]