Last patches of winter's snow slowly melt as the sun goes down behind the soaring peaks of Sutton Pass; beautiful, imposing and regal they wear diminishing crowns of snow with pride. These giant hills are ancient and I feel their majesty and I’m humbled in their presence amongst the maze of lakes and rivers running serpentine in every direction.
I was out here to catch up with some old friends and track down some fish. Flush with friends I’m unfortunately thin on trout. The water in these mountain streams looks promising, it looks fishy as the saying goes. Clear, cold, a slight ripple where one would expect the feeding lanes to be, and yet, no fish. I’m told the water is too cold. Picky little fuckers.
Getting up to the top of the pass I’m shocked to see how much snow is on the ground. Considering the elevation there is nothing shocking about it at all, but as the weather changes on the south island and I wear less and less in the way of layers to work each week the thought of winter camping gear was far from my mind. With tea, a good sized fire and the “celebration size” bag of peanut butter m&m’s I ritualistically pick up in Port Alberni on my way through while catching up with the good homie Brando, I’ll survive the night.
I was unaware of how much I needed a trip out to the woods, it had been far too long. I had ideas of reading and writing, possibly some deep meditation but after I got the fire built I couldn’t do anything. I had nothing left within me for the simplest tasks, even the m&m’s went unmolested. I had, at maximum 45 seconds of scorn to pour on myself for not taking advantage of the inspiration drawn from the wild and then eased into nothingness. Not a thought, not a scratch of a pen or whisper of a mantra, just the warmth of the fire on my legs and the comfort of my wide back camping chair.
I seem to run myself down with thoughts and expectations. My ADHD mind is constantly on overdrive, I live in constant displeasure with how I spend my time. I’m not creating enough, I’m not expressing myself as much as I need to express myself to feel whole. Be it through words, clothing or photos there is a massive catharsis that grounds me when I’m sharing my experience, and when I don’t do it; well you might as well burn it all down ‘cause this one ain’t no good. Start again, from scratch, but make it perfect this time.
Even these blog posts scratch that itch just enough to inspire me to do another, which will need another photo and a moment of vulnerability and the cycle, in theory, continues. So thank you for reading this far, and thank you for reading any of my previous posts!
As for actual projects in the works, I’ve got an article coming out in The Ton Magazine in early summer so if you’re into motorbikes keep your eyes peeled for that. And, I’ll be working on a small collection of short stories with accompanying photos that I’ll hopefully have published by the end of summer, possibly with a limited edition of cruisers skateboards to go with it for those that are four wheel inclined, of want to hang it on a wall as a lil sweety piece of art.
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