Autumn First Full Moon

  October 4th was the first full moon of the fall and out here on the coast the sky was clear, illuminating Cape Kiwanda. At midnight I wandered out to enjoy this solace and shoot some beloved bulb shots of the majestic landscapes withheld under La Luna. I found no better mode to share my findings than the simple Haiku accompanied by some exposures.

 

high above the sea

eerie incandescent bulb

captures cresting wave

come new moon warm light

sparking ocean revival

transforms kiwanda

standing on long end

a skeletal vibrato

tide beating ear drum

Surf Fishin' Be Bitchin'

(warning: content contains cursing like a sailor)

  Six hours a day in the water has gotten me well acquainted with the ocean, but I know I’m still far from obtaining the waterman status of the guys I read about in the pages of The Surfer’s Journal.

 

  The wind has been blowing onshore all day, turning what little surf exists into chop. So what do watermen do when the surf is down? They catch dinner—which is exactly what I decide to do.

 

  At the bait and tackle shop in town I buy supplies and rig myself a decently complicated—if I do say so meself—set up. A 20lb leader on a barrel swivel with two #3 drop hooks and a 3oz. pyramid weight. Combine that with the 11’ surf pole my Pops hooked me up with and I look like the shit.

 

  Knowing the cape like the back of my hand, I climb down near the boulder garden where I’ve seen fish jumping daily. Finding a high post, I pull the top of the bait can full of sand shrimp.

 

  Oh god, the poor bastards are still alive!

 

  Grasping a little guy, I start to get choked up… “Wait a minute” I think, “I’m a stone cold waterman, quit being such a ninny.” And so, clenching my teeth I tap into my machismo and punch the hook through the soft abdomen.

 

  Preparing to cast I realize how bid an 11’ pole really is. It’s huge. Reel engaged, line pinched, I cock back and let loose towards the sea, watching as the shrimp go flying, no longer hooked to the line.

 

  Oh goddamit! Not only did I cause them unpleasant pain, but I failed them the honor of fulfilling their duty. It was like a missing the casket with the flaming arrow during a Viking burial. Those shrimp must think I’m a huge asshole. I promise the rest of them it won’t happen again.

 

  I hurl the next round of bait nearly fifty yards but reel it in to no avail. The third cast yields a hit. I give it a snap but can’t sink the hook… the theme for the rest of the evening. With each bite I practice technique; feeding line here, quick tugs there, but nothing works.

 

  As my bait stock dwindles the only thing I’ve accomplished is hosting a dinner party for a hungry school of fish and I’m starting to think I should have just eaten the bait myself… then it hits.

 

  I give it some line, then reel it back in. The somnabitch is a real go-getter, forcing me to take a seat. No matter how much I crank the rod, I can’t bring ‘er in… then it hits me. I’ve been in a ten-minute match with the sear floor. I decide to release it.

 

With the last of my shrimp gone, I retreat to my beer, sulking over the long road ahoe to waterman status… Oh shit, the Top Ramen is burning!

Summer's Best

  October has arrived and so has the classic Oregon rain. But before transitioning into sipping hot cocoa and getting lost in corn mazes, I've sifted through the summer's photos and chosen my favorite exposure from each trip or event. Here's to another great Northwest summer...

At the very end of the school year, I hopped in Darren's car on one of his weekly Smith trips. Here he is climbing Burl-master (5.13d)

The first big endeavor of summer was climbing Mt. Hood (ele. 11,249'). This is Rory. He'd graduated several before and would be leaving his home Oregon, where he'd been for 6 years, for good in two days.

My good friend and Volifonix frontman Trevor and I have an interesting history on Cape Kiwanda that translated into a song titled "Three Good Friends." They decided to make it their first music video and it was shot on site on the Cape.

I joined my roommate Porter and some of our friends at the local pizza buffet before they headed off to climb Mt. Thielsen (elev. 9,184'). Sure enough I was rushing home to pack the bare essentials and off I went with them. I didn't regret it.

The way I got roped into climbing Thielsen was an agreement Henry and I made. If I climbed Thielsen, Henry would join me on the canoe trip--Eugene to Corvallis via the Willamette--that I'd been planning for weeks.

I wrote a travel article about breweries and adventure for Beer Northwest. I was trying to think of a way to combine the two and my photography mentor, Dan Morrison, recommended this idea. Major props to Ninkasi for allowing this to happen and to Matt Frick for steppin' up to the plate.

South Sister is by far the most crowded summit I've ever seen. For twelve hours, however, my buddy Tommy and I enjoyed the summit all to ourselves with a few Anderson Valley Crema Cervezas and an astro bivy at 10,363' to boot.

After graduating from the University of Oregon in September, I ran for the coast to collect myself. There I met some interesting characters who helped make my coastal sojourn a memorable one.