Oil, Gas, Propane
“Marijuana, electricity, alcohol, oil, gas, propannnneee…”
Yeh, Queens of the Stone Age there.
Anyway, that’s what’s powering this prairie bloke.
And I hate it. (Why? Because I’m striving for one moment of true independence (from civilization and money) before I die.) I was dependent upon all that up until gas. Petrol, I say.
Fuck, man. Now I have to pay attention to gas prices. I feel low. Gasoholic motherfucking…
Enough. I need it to provide locomotion, so what can I do? Build a steam-powered submarine?
Back in Halfmoon Bay after a stint in Sechelt, after coming back from the Inlet (to pick up my buddy, who couldn’t come up there this time because he has no money, because he had no work the ten days, and I showed up broke because he said he’d have cash to kick in for gas and shit; but he was broke too—broker, even, than me).
See? Nice and simple.
Oh well. Shit can happen.
Alcohol, indeed. I need it now. Painkiller, nerve-number, blood-pressure-lowerer.
See where it says “Narrows Inlet?” There’s a green patch on both sides along the coast—see where it gets really narrow?
That’s where I went through. As wide as a highway, the water was rockin’ n rollin’ through there. It was like my boat was strapped to the back of a slow-bucking bull.
Absolutely stunning mountains around there—I’d forgotten my camera.
None of it mattered anyway, cuz I couldn’t find any creeks. Which would not have mattered anyway, because that green belt means that it’s a park. Tzoonie Marine Park, to be exact.
I didn’t know that—before I left. My map showed no such park. It was only the next day, looking at a different map, that I noticed that it was all moot.
Anyway, the outboard worked great. 4 (out of 5) hp brought me there and back without issue.
That was on August 4th.
I went back to town on the 10th, broke, as I said, to pick up Lenny, except he hadn’t gotten work and was broke as well.
So I house sat for G instead.
Heading back up soon…