Into The Bluey!: Island Time

It sure is easy to get caught up in the mid summer blur. Looking back it appears I was very busy. At the time I felt as though my life was becoming just as dull as the next guys, possibly even more so. The warmish dryish weather issues a torrent of activity upon those who will allow it. There were stag parties, there were stagette parties, there were subsequent weddings, there were music festivals, farmers markets and garage sales, all finally culminating with the grand opening ceremony of a spectacular event appropriately entitled September.

Mary Mo and Jo Jo

Sam Shredding

Most of my time was occupied mid-island, but I did venture both southerly and northerly respectively. I struggled with an attempt to paint on the wet coast in fogust, and ended up quitting the most frustrating job that I never had. My folks came for a lovely visit after the Drades wedding. We explored a taste of the local culture, as well as the localized fog banks that so consistently blanket the region.

Joey Hangin a 5'er

Both fishing and mushroom picking were absolutely stellar. Roche was chilling out for a few days and we caught some waves, Joey and Mary hung out on the coast for a couple of weeks, and Sam came by for a visit too. We camped out in proximity to the pacific rim and attempted to surf. Once again the van struck hard times, and JB Weld is now holding together yet another crucial piece of van. Luckily, Steven Robert Murray, my yellow attorney and mechanic was partially there to oversee my red green approach to auto repair. A few blue bucks later and we were rolling down the blacktop again.

They'll sing it to you with a smile

Otalith music festival was a huge success. Everyone in attendance had a blast and the only audible complaint was that it ended too soon. Afterwards myself and a couple of goons stuffed the van to the brim and ventured northwards. Not too many aspects of our original mission came to fruition. Three quarters of the whole way past Halfberg we had Curtis on the roof with his Wyoming saw, cutting down overhanging alder trees that blocked the muddy goat trail we were attempting to force the van to trudge through. It was dark, pouring rain and muddy. Curt climbing the hood of the van in the middle of the night, in the rain, with a poncho on and a saw in his hand, was a a scene straight from a cheesy horror flick.

River Floaters

A wharf worth the drive

Once we hit that river things began to change drastically for the better. We smoothed it for two weeks, catching fish, catching waves, and catching rays of solar power. We feasted on alder smoked salmon and had multiple saunas on the beach. The entire time Ospreys and Eagles were pulling fish out of the river and the great ocean. The van has completed yet another glorious journey.