ivan Posted February 28, 2016 Share Posted February 28, 2016 1/10/16 - 4th year of setting down the shit that does down in beatardia, where men are women and women are never around was a rude late fall/early winter season - the big blow of early november annihilated the hiking trail and i woulda been pissed about it if'n never-ending rains hadn't set in and made soloing laps insane anyway a late december trip out w/ geoff at the start of winter break - we ended up just drinking beers n' smoking shit n' commenting on the awful, awful slickery nature of everything - the wall closed at ground zero and so nothing aidable particularly of interest christmas ensued and all was well - didn't have the cash or the clock-time to go for a long off trade to red rocks or whatever, so the only local option was heading up to the puget sound and make a water-man of meself again - last year was great, a 3 day back-pack on the olympic coast n' a 2 day ocean kayak this time around it was a 6-day sea window beat up north in the early hours of 12/27, bent out of my mind it seemed, water streaming along the side of the automovat - seattle shortly after dawn, proud pat all pat-like made our way to the marina n' nattered in the cold light waiting to meet up w/ our captain, a true comedy of errors - soon enough we were on board and casting off sweet simple sailing southward in light airs, past bouys bestowed with sealions - seals - dolphins - eagles both american and candadian i bet - the pleasant site of a 'lion bolting down a full-growth salmon by tail the last bit into port orchard by motor, the night come round so soon - carriers at bremerton ashore we 'sup n' carouse n' enjoy ourselves capitally - meet a sheila-acquaintance of denali dave's round the fireplace n' philsophize over the weight of smoke before rambling off to a sea-berth sail oughta town the next day and all was well - got meself nearly kilt by a swinging boom just shy of brian island or somethign like that - spent much of the night dazed as could be but enjoyed a grand time nonetheless binging on burgundy, n' noble reds n' flowing bowls of what-have-you until 2 in the morning awoke feeling near as death as i've felt in awhile - the hard-knock the day before was certainly one of my fabled 9 lives n' i felt the truth of it - grayed out - feeling the cold i'd inherited from the silverton clan plus the concusssion plus the cold above deck plus the deep, deep fucking booze funk they all thought i was dead the day before and grew doubly grim when i was drawing breath the day after but groaning - turned into me laying in agony on the cabin bench n' holding me head together as we steamed back to seattle against a solid breeze the rest of the day was a healing thing - pat flung himself into the sound in his wetsuit as i laid around his joint, showering and trying to sleep off my fucking concussion - that night we did some super-stoned shopping n' headed over to his girlfriend's for a sumptous dinner set against a most scorchign cold outside - i cackled n' thumbed through 1960's civil defense brochures while pat snored n' i made small talk w/ his missus and her very alien animal 3 days of ocean kayaking ensued - launched out from an indian reservation near bellingham, stocked up on cheap injun smokes - the rudder was rudely impaired n' pat didn't know but had me in the back anyhow, so after hours of bitching n' cussing we finally fetched up on clark island soaked rather wet we came straight ashore n' made camp in what proved to be a damned cold place - made a roaring fire n' had a bit of a good night - italian fare i recollect - olives n' red sauce n' sausage tortellinis n' mozeralla n' red wine - a sputtering fire, a bit of a dissapointment but soon enough the tent beside a snoring pat n' i slept soundly, the head cold resonating through me day 2 of the ocean kayak we resolve to shift our camp southwards on the island but no further - find a sweet cove filled w/ firewood n' a sweltering sun, relative to our recent camp - we souse along the shore for a bit n' later launch for a trip to a nearby island where pat is molested by sheep great night, this one - we were promised the northern lights but they never appeared but fuck it - it was new years eve - we sat by a roaring fire n' enjoyed bacon n' chili n' what-have-you, me sucking down pionot noir n' smokes n' enjoying the simpleness of being stranded at sea new year's eve we returned to civilization n' after a bit of agony i made it home in time for winter weather and a nice delayed start to the school year but this a beacon thread, n' so all this stuff before is simple bullshit n' i apologize for it today was day 1! corner lap #1, but not solo n' gladly not geoff at the bk a bit past 10 - we saunter eastwards by strong light n' stronger winds the parking lot in a simple gale - we pack and wander down, bound n' determined to reach the top of the uprising and to suss out the damage from there cold n' icy but delightfully dry - i take pitch 1 n' we alternate from there - snow patches here and there, but dry where it needs to be - some beers along the way n' we get time to poke our head over the railing n' take in the carnage on the touron-trail - much work to be done it's obvious - big blown out trees n' blowdown n' battered stones - we take it in and scoot down the raps in the big blow n' enjoy some beers and ramboling aroudn and reach back for home here's to 2016 1/31 - day 2 - closing day, and not a very promising one - 39 degrees n' pouring rain in the parking lot - a drive out through mental desperation, the moss on this here rolling rock of meself growing thick n' fucking shaggy beers n' bullshitting w/ steve n' waiting for the weather to give up a little - there were no illusions of how thorough soggy it was gonna be no wind to speak of though, so there was that at least and it got warmer on the south side after the mist melted away - soon enough i cast off, pulling on gear here and there to remind meself not to be a dipshit on a point of pride climbing the slime-cone the sun shone out halfway up and the mood improved noticeably - fresh snow, as innocent as a downy laotian-lamb along the far gorge walls -steve was exuberant to lead the second pitch and i salute him for it as it wouldn't have taken much to talk me out of it a real slippy-slidey one is that - our boy did it w/o flying off but, following, i found meself doing the cartoon-character spinning me feet in the air thang at one point and only narrowly avoiding a pretty cosmic pirouette around the first crux found meself holding forth somethign fierce on tree ledge, swilling pbr n' pounding upon our poor fellow about his own cosmic hangups -those rightly disposed, and a few butts thrown in to boot, i bolted on up the slippery ramps to grassy ledges - since i had a 70 and the jill's anchor was running wet, i went past it and anchored to a tree - a flippant shoulder belay ensued n' steve quite soon went n' fell big time onto it but i proved them old-boys knew what they were doing and ended up smiling on the ground for it the trail closed sign even as we slipped away - stone soup next month now i suppose, though i suspect it's gonna take a civil action and yet another juicy skamania judge session before it gets sorted out - how good is it i have no other hobbies? 2/27 - day 3 - stone soup in the sopping wet - sausage n' eggs n' a leisurely breakfast - 'nastia at tad past 10 - streaming water on the sides of the machine on the way out - the k-19 in classic form, fresh off a cardiac arrest for christ's sake? 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