Tales from the Wet Coast

My adventure to Bamfield began with a bang - or should I say a gong(show) - when I awoke to find that I was missing one of my contacts. With no time to return to my home and get a new set before the 8:30am ferry, and no other option to see (I forgot to bring a back-up pair), I borrowed James's glasses. They didn't really fit my head, or my prescription, but beggars can't be choosers, so along they came. It was with these glasses that I noticed, while boarding the ferry, that there seemed to be a lot of people carrying sleeping bags and I was not one of them. Great...
After a long bus ride, courtesy of the slowest bus driver in the world - he came out of retirement just for this trip!! - we arrived at Bamfield and the rain followed shortly afterwards. Friday and Saturday were great days of beach wandering, boat touring, bird watching, plankton catching, Sea Lion viewing, and bunkbed napping and Saturday night was the big night of Bamfield's Halloween party. I had no idea how legendary this party was - it's bigger than Christmas with some people beginning their costume in August and others driving from all over the place just to return for this bash (Kate is now a returning regular)! My costume was the cameraman for the Crocodile Hunter, the Croc and the Croc Hunter's wife.
I began with evening with rye, moved quickly to wine but didn't really feel any effects until I arrived at the party...and then I was pissed. The details of the night are hazy but what I DO remember is amazing costumes (Frankenstein on stilts won the best costume), the many boys eager for some lady attention, dancing (sometimes moshing) the eve away, the slippery floor and my sneaky (read: not so sneaky) refills of red wine into my coffee mug. Apparently I was rowdy and I found a huge bruise on my hip this morning - a good evening all in all. The next day I woke up (still drunk) and begun the day with an oceanography cruise (groan) and then climbed up a 116 foot Red Cedar. Note to the wise: this is not the best hung-over activity. On the top, 4th, very slippery, platform you could feel the huge gusts of wind that were whipping through the canopy and I, scared shitless, I was literally a tree hugger. After these fun morning activities, we rushed around getting ready for the bus that was to meet us there at 1pm. At 1:15 were started to wonder. At 2pm we started to play cards. To make a long story short, the bus company got confused and thought they were picking us on Monday - finally they dispatched a bus to come to our rescue (luckily NOT our first driver) and at 5:20 pm he sped us to the ferries just in time to make the 9pm.
Whew...what a weekend.

Dreaming of the midnight sun...

There are strange things done 'neath the midnight sun
By the men who moil for gold.
The arctic trails have their secret tales
That would make your blood run cold.
The northern lights have seen queer sights
But the queerest they ever did see,
Was that night on the marge of Lake LeBarge
When I cremated Sam McGee...

- Robert Service

another ordinary posting

It's been a while. And after this much time, the stress of what to write usually overcomes any desire to write. Again, stress of production has strangled creativity. Ugh.

Random updates:

Diving: Love drysuits. Don't know if I'm going to be able to go back to wet suits - I didn't get cold until I got out of the water. How great is that? Saw lots of cool critters at Whitecliff (a pretty cool, very busy local dive site) including thousands of brittle seastars. Overheard an amusing conversation from some male divers as they were floating in the water waiting for their dive buddies:
"...Yah she's nice, but just my luck all her friends are all hot so....She's ok but I'm looking around still for something better....I didn't say i love her so it's ok....".
Sound travels faster across water boys. I already have a tainted view on how guys REALLY feel, there's no need to cement these feeling any more.

Bamfield: Going there in a couple of weekends for the first time. I'm so excited, though I will be missing Mel's first western Halloween Social.

Hair cut: It's short. I like it. Sometimes makes me look like a triangle head. Vanity is weird.

Photo class: Art students can be so snobby. That being said the continuing studies group isn't that bad. Feel less like a photographer than I've ever felt in my life however - having a broken camera doesn't help. Where has my creativity gone...Perhaps it attached itself to my idealism?

Brazillian: Does not exist anymore. However, as promised the hair that has grown back is very soft. mmmm. I guess I'm going to have to bite the bullet and go bald again soon though.

Vacation: Thinking of taking one in January. Any ideas where? Anyone want to come?

ok all for now.