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a.m & p.m.

Saturday started off with Shipwreck Day, a huge outdoor junk sale that spans the streets of downtown Anacortes. I bought a cedar stump cub head that was made with a chainsaw by this fellow. I was his first sale of the day. The cub was $15 dollars. The thought of my parents opening up their gift in the mail: priceless.

In the early afternoon, a group of increasingly sunburned kids decided to visit nearby Deception Pass, the bridge that connects Whidby Island to Fidalgo Island. To say it was beautiful would be an understatement. I want to go camping here in the fall.

From there, it was a short ride to take in the view from Mt. Erie…

Washington is fucking breathtaking. But then you get weird shit like this:

That night was the final Port Warehouse show. I was mostly excited to see Karl Blau, and I was not disappointed. This was easily the most memorable set I’ve seen him play over the last few years. LAKE was his backing band.

On Sunday morning, I woke up at 6:53 AM. I was immediately awake and there was little hope of falling back asleep. Therefore, I decided to go for a lone drive, exploring Anacortes. I followed the coast line through town, ultimately ending up at jaw dropping Washington Park. The Fog was thick and the salty spray of Puget Sound gave me the distinct impression of Autumn.

View of the bluff from the beach…

The edge of the world…

The view of the ocean from the bluff…

On the way back downtown, I came across this incredible sight. Apparently, decades ago, a Croatian sailor decided to create a marina by dredging the bottom of the cove out and placing it in an old grounded cargo vessel. Birds soon inhabited the man-made island, dropping seeds into the soil, over time creating a small forest.

I was back in time for the final Sunday afternoon show in the park, then headed home to Olympia in time for a later dinner and an early bed time.

What the heck.

new friends.

“Don’t worry, we’re in no hurry. School’s out – what did you expect?”

For my 31st Birthday, I sat for a spell on the Spiral Jetty along a remote shore of the Great Salt Lake. The journey began in a desolate parking lot adjacent to The Golden Spike National Historic Site and wound 15 miles further over dirt ranch roads to Rozel Point. I made the pilgrimage with former Olympian, now Salt Lake City transplant Laura Sharp Wilson. Upon our arrival, we were greeted by a pair of aged hippies in a old blue VW bus with a red gas can strapped to its roof. Momentarily lost in space and time, as migrating pelicans swooped in graceful formations overhead, I gazed across white salt flats and the black basalt rocks Robert Smithson so deliberately rearranged on the lake bed in 1971. And yes, it was magic.

An excerpt from a favorite passage in a favorite book by favorite author Rebecca Solint, A Field Guide to Getting Lost:

“I love going out of my way, beyond what I know, and finding my way back a few extra miles, by another trail, with a compass that argues a map, with strangers’ contrary anecdotal directions. Nights alone in motels in remote western towns where I know no one and no one I know knows where I am, nights with the strange paintings and floral spreads and cable television that furnish a reprieve from my own biography, when in [Walter] Benjamin’s terms I have lost myself though I know where I am”

and another: “Leave the door open for the unknown, the door into the dark. That’s where the most important things come from, where you yourself came from, and where you will go.”

Eastern Oregon and Central Idaho:

or, Spring Break Day One.

The Scenic Columbia Gorge, Oregon:

“Don’t go chasing waterfalls
Please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you’re used to”

-TLC

It’s suddenly spring in the Pacific Northwest. The days are getting longer, fruit trees are blooming with pink and purple flowers and daffodils dot the landscape with yellow. I went for a walk with friend Ben at Woodard Bay yesterday. This is what I saw.