The surf chart came through for me. In fact it got better through the week to the point where on Wednesday I was able to blow the dust from my wallet and open it, remove the small plastic instrument of slavery and use it to book the campsite, hence confirming my coastal jaunt. The journey to the waves can be both frustrating and beautiful, where the interaction with Island folk, killer wildlife and logging trucks can get weird and scary. On a previous trip I sent Death a ‘friend request’ due to a highway incident that may or may not have been brought about by leaving too late to get to the ferry. Another time I got unilaterally eye mauled by 90% of the ferry users because they were of the hunting ilk and didn’t take kindly to my English accent, zombie scene t-shirt and narrow jeans. Or maybe it was down to me punching the Bubble Bobble arcade machine. The best was an unplanned stop at a Health Clinic to get a prescription for my girlfriend who may or may not have forgotten to get it before we departed Vancouver. In the waiting room I had the joy of witnessing a skag addict with no teeth, trying to book an appointment whilst her leg was pissing vino tinto all over the floor due to a syringe malfunction.
I can’t wait for this trip of doom to commence.