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Author Archives: Fourchinnigan
Video Blast
This has been a busy month. I had two big back-to-back projects that have both come to completion. Last night brought the conclusion of a video for the Guardian Project that will air Sunday at the NHL All Star game and during the television broadcast. I was responsible for some of the compositing for that enormous project. Above are a few videos we at Butcher Bird Studios produced for Nexon in December and January.
2010 Goals Report Card
I don’t foresee this post being especially interesting to anyone other than myself. It’s the last day of the year so I feel obligated to take a look at the goals I set for myself for 2010 and see if I passed or failed.
I created two lists: priorities and optional. I fully completed 12 of the 15 items under priorities. Of the remaining 3, I made valiant strides for 2 of them (Finish Current Video Projects + Become Adept with environment creation in Vue) and failed completely at 1 of them (Start drawing on a regular basis again). 2 items on the list were taken to an extreme: Take Rock Climbing Lessons + More long-distance backpacking. I ended up taking nearly every rock climbing class available to me and managed to go climbing at least twice each month. I also backpacked the West Coast Trail over six days (I was really only thinking of 2-3 day trips when I set my goal). I am also happy to see I ticked off 3 rather large goals on the optional list: Backpack the West Coast Trail + Backpack Zion Narrows again + Take a trip out of the country. Although I didn’t fully succeed in attaining my priority goals 100%, I feel pretty good about my overall success especially when factoring in the achievements in the optional category. 2 huge things left off my goal lists entirely that were achieved this year were becoming completely self-employed and starting a new business with friends (Butcher Bird Studios).
In the end, I feel comfortable giving myself a passing grade.
Sitting down earlier this year and creating that list of goals made it much easier for me to attain them and allowed me to gauge my progress throughout the year. I doubt I would have done all of those things if I hadn’t set up a list of this sort. I highly recommend forgetting about the New Year Resolution bullshit and instead setting Annual Goals. It worked for me and I need to sit down over the next few days and start compiling a list for 2011.
Goddamn Right
Here is a compilation of some of the stuff I managed to capture during my first year as a GoPro owner. It’s too bad I didn’t take it more places. There were so many times I forgot it and wished I’d had it with me.
Falling Out of a Plane
My answer to the question "what would you wish for if you could have any wish?" has been the same for as long as I can remember. It is the same answer I give when asked "what superpower would you want if you could pick one?" I’m not interested in money, immortality, invisibility, or radioactive talents. I want to be able to do the thing I’ve always been able to do in my dreams—leap into the air and soar into the sky.
Oddly enough, I had never gone sky-diving, or more accurately, fallen out of a plane. Number three on my list of goals for this year is "Go Skydiving." December appeared seemingly from nowhere and I hadn’t ticked that one off of the list yet. Thanks to Extreme Things and Skydive Elsinore, I was able to schedule a jump with short notice. I opted for the tandem jump. Essentially, you are strapped to an experienced jumper who agrees to take you along as a tourist. No one looks cool jumping tandem, but I wasn’t there to look cool. I wanted to experience the sensation of jumping without the worries of learning to jump safely. There would be time for that later after I made sure I liked the experience and that my body didn’t respond badly to it. Besides, AFF-certification is costly and time-consuming, tandem is fairly cheap and can be done in a couple of hours.
I was curious how I would respond to it all. Would I get terrified at the last minute? Would I black out during the fall? Would it be uncomfortable? I filled out the paperwork, received the necessary preliminary instruction, and was introduced to my tandem buddy. I said goodbye to an anxious Erika and boarded the small plane with several other jumpers and their tandem partners. As we neared our ultimate altitude—12,800 feet, I heard "climb onto my lap." If you think going tandem skydiving is going to make you feel like a badass, be forewarned, it is hard to feel like a badass when you are a grown man sitting on the lap of another man. We were in the front of the plane meaning we’d be out last. My goggles came down. The door slid open. We all began the slide towards the door as those before us were jerked abruptly into the sky. I was not anxious. I was not embarrassed that I was attached to another man’s crotch. I was not worried. Soon, we were at the door. I knelt, grabbed my harness straps, tilted forward, and we were airborne.
It is hard to truly appreciate the experience of skydiving during the first fall. There is so much to observe and the sensation is so foreign, I couldn’t take it all in. Freefall lasted roughly 50 seconds. Air was plowing into me so quickly, I could hear nothing else and my mouth was getting extremely dry. I didn’t have difficulty breathing, but it was somewhat uncomfortable. My main thought was not of the Earth speeding towards me at a ridiculous velocity, but of how much I wanted to drink water and be rid of the cotton-mouth. My arm was moved in front of me as a reminder to check the altimeter and my right hand was placed on the pull for the chute. I yanked. I expected a sudden jerk. I expected the harness to eat into my skin like climbing harnesses will do in certain situations. There was none of that—only the sudden cessation of the whipping wind, the sound of a chute, and a reorientation of the body into a standing position.
Skydiving rarely feels like falling. The nearest objects are so terribly far away, you have no point of reference for your extreme velocity. Instead, you float in the sky. You levitate above a miniature toy world slowly increasing in size as you approach it. It is more relaxing than frightening. My instructor handed me the controls for the chute and showed me how we could turn or spin with a tug. I laughed as we spun at high speeds far above the Earth. I could see great potential in the fun to be had piloting a parachute through the skies.
Our landing was soft, liking stepping off a high chair. Falling from a plane was very different than I expected it to be. It was somewhat overwhelming, but never frightening. I never felt like I was in danger. I imagine this will change when I make the decision to go after my AFF certification. Leaping from a plane solo and being responsible for all of the things my tandem partner handled while I was blissfully ignorant will likely be intimidating. That first jump will probably be somewhat terrifying. And, without a doubt, even more rewarding.
More Summer Round-up
Black Canyon — August 2010 from Fourchinnigan on Vimeo.
Narrows Days — July 2010 from Fourchinnigan on Vimeo.
More GoPro videos from this summer. The Narrows video is a bit too long, but maybe you’ll enjoy it anyway. These were both Extreme Things Adventure Club events.
The Return
Leaving the WCT — June 2010 from Fourchinnigan on Vimeo.
After completing the West Coast Trail, I spent a couple of days relaxing in Victoria. The weather was perfect. Then, I caught the ferry back to Vancouver where I shared a dingy hostel room with a very interesting Canadian from the East Coast. He had taken a Greyhound across country and been kicked off for fighting. His bags never made it to his destination. He, too, had stories of East Hastings Street, but despite his feigned distaste, it was clear he was intrigued by the place. Within the few hours we shared the room, he got sloppy drunk, snorted Oxycontin, begged me for a pair of socks, disappeared to go hire a prostitute, and collapsed on the bed after 3:00 A.M. His plan was to look for a job "first thing in the morning." Somehow, I don’t think he made it. Shortly afterwards, I walked a block to the bus station. As the Sun rose, Greyhound drove me to Seattle. I slept more soundly on the bus than in the hostel. The final 36 hours were spent on an Amtrak train riding the Coast Starlight route back to Los Angeles. It was an interesting experience also punctuated with the rap stylings of a soused Canadian.
BC Summer — Part 2 (of 2)
Near the end of May, I quit my job and fled to Canada for two and a half weeks. The first week was spent sight-seeing with Erika. The second week involved backpacking down the West Coast Trail. The last few days were spent riding the Amtrak down the coast to L.A. This entry will focus on Week Two.
I fumble around in the twilight. My hand finds the zipper. I squeeze through the tight space between the tent opening and the adjacent rock face and into the cold sand. Before me are the remnants of our failed fire. I stand, squeeze past the tent, and inspect the clothesline. Our quick-dry clothing is still drenched. The air is too damp for anything to dry. Oh well. I exit the cave and step down onto the beach. The rain has ceased for the time being. The sky is still overcast, but the rising Sun is strong enough to illuminate a gray haze. A light mist rolls across my skin. I stare out into the ocean for a bit. It’s cold. My body tends to run warm, except in the morning. No point in lollygagging. The sooner I get moving, the sooner my core temperature will increase. I hike down the beach to a small cove where I stashed my bear canister. Still safe. The bell sits atop it unmolested. Steven slides out of the cave. Time for breakfast. We sit in the sand huddled around my tiny stove and watch the ocean. The world is waking up. Birds fly past, waves roll in, the Sun fights to be seen, and perched on a rock yards away sits a bald eagle. It watches us as we eat our modest breakfast. We laugh. In America, it is Memorial Day. As we share breakfast with a bald eagle, we realize we are having the most patriotic Memorial Day of our lives. We are in Canada. It’s day three on the West Coast Trail.
A few years ago I realized my life wasn’t headed in the direction I wanted. I was coasting. I had become complacent. When I imagined my life had I lived in centuries past, I liked to think I would have been an explorer boldly trekking across newly discovered wild lands. Yet, little in my present life leant credence to that thought. Other than moving across country, struggling to find a living, and taking public transportation around Los Angeles, there hadn’t been much adventure in my life for years. At least not the kind I longed for. I knew I needed to make some big changes and I struggled to decide what those changes should be. Suddenly, fate intervened. My greatest fear came to pass—my great grandmother died. She was an old Cuban lady who spoke very little English, yet somehow communicated with everyone. Everyone called her ‘Mima’ which essentially means ‘mother.’ It was a very apt name. My family had lost its collective maternal figure. Nothing makes life seem more precious than death. It was time for change and I couldn’t wait any longer. Shortly after, I instituted several changes in my life including ending an eight year relationship with my then girlfriend that was being held together by familiarity and convenience. It was time for big changes and time to evaluate my life. Much changed over the next couple of years. As I became more proactive in my choices, I found myself finding more successes in all aspects of life—business and personal. One of the decisions I had made was to integrate adventure back into my life. Hiking, backpacking, climbing, rafting, and other outdoor pursuits became a priority. The more time I spent in nature, the more I learned about myself. It was making me stronger—physically, emotionally, and psychologically. When I read about the West Coast Trail in British Columbia, I knew it was a chance to push myself further.
The West Coast Trail runs 75km—that’s roughly 48 miles—down the Western coast of Vancouver Island from Pachena Bay to Port Renfrew. It is known for brutal storms and a history of disastrous shipwrecks. An early version of the trail was known as the “Life-saving Trail.” Its purpose was to give survivors washed ashore a solid chance of making it to civilization alive. Now, it is a week-long backpacking challenge for those who want to experience beauty and hardship in the Canadian wilderness. The descriptions I read of the WCT excited the adventurer inside me: suspension bridges, miles of mud pits, hand-operated cable cars, surging tides, river crossings, dozens of tall ladders, rocky beaches, and unpredictable weather. I knew I wanted in.
The last few years had been going well, but the time for drastic change was coming again. I decided to quit my job and embark on the path of full-time self-employment. But, first, I would go to Canada. What better way to baptize a new path than the West Coast Trail? My friend and coworker, Steven, was also quitting for similar reasons and agreed to meet me in Victoria, Canada. Together we would face the WCT before putting our individual professional lives back together. I knew the trail would be both fun and miserable. I expected both. My secret hope, although, was for an epiphany along the way.
BC Summer — Part 1 (of 2)
Near the end on May, I quit my job and fled to Canada for two and a half weeks. The first week was spent sight-seeing with Erika. The second week involved backpacking down the West Coast Trail. The last few days were spent riding the Amtrak down the coast to L.A. This entry will focus on Week One.
British Columbia. No, it isn’t part of the U.K. and it isn’t in England. It is Canada’s Southwestern province (kind of like a U.S. state). B.C. is known for being strikingly beautiful and full of bad-ass outdoor activities. Nearly half of the most gorgeous and exciting ads I see in adventure travel magazines tend to depict British Columbia. It is also known for rain and we got plenty of it. For every day it doesn’t rain in Los Angeles, it does in B.C. That’s a lot. But, hey, if you want a region to be green and full of life, it needs lots of rain.
Erika and I had been wanting to visit the area for a while and we aren’t afraid of rain. We wanted to see as much and do as much as we could in a week. Thus, we did a little research, but didn’t make any definitive plans. When traveling, that can work for and against you. We flew into Vancouver—so barely in Canada, you can throw a rock and hit Seattle—and rode the train downtown. The B.C. tourism website recommended a very inexpensive place near downtown. Awesome. We made our way there. We ignorantly assumed anything the tourism board listed in their literature was kosher. We learned otherwise. The hotel we stayed in for two nights was in an area of Vancouver called East Hastings. If you didn’t just get goosebumps, you’ve never been to or heard of East Hastings. We should have known better when a slightly crazed and possibly homeless woman tried to talk us out of going there. The Olympics allegedly rerouted their parade to keep it away from East Hastings. While in B.C., every time I mentioned the words "East Hastings," the person I was speaking to would grimace and relay their own horror story of the area. When we arrived, the streets were packed. Every type of prostitute was accounted for: young, old, transvestite, ancient. Nearly every person on the street was disheveled, high, and desperate for something—mostly for another hit. Some were picking at the crushed roaches on the concrete hoping a little grass was there among the mashed paper. Some were yelling belligerently at others across the street. Others conducted "business" in alleys or on the sidewalk. We strode through and entered the hotel. After assuring them Erika was not a whore and we intended to stay the whole night, they gave us a key to a shoddy room three floors up. We spent a bit of time in the attached pub downstairs (which was quite likable) and decided not to venture out after dark. The next morning we saw two teen girls passed out in a doorway with bloody needles in their arms.
Vancouver wasn’t all junkies and sex workers. We spent a few hours at the Capilano Suspension Bridge and went zip-lining at Grouse Mountain. Northern Vancouver is the lush wonderland we expected from B.C. We wanted to see as much of the region as we could and we didn’t want to spend a third night in East Hastings so we hopped the extremely inexpensive ferry to Nanaimo on Vancouver Island. Do not be fooled, Vancouver Island is no tiny piece of land off the coast of Vancouver. It is an enormous 12,000 square mile island over an hour from the mainland. The ferry that takes you there is basically a mini-cruise ship with small restaurants, arcades, and a playground. It carries many passengers, their vehicles, and various big rigs each way. As you cross the channel, you have ample opportunity to admire various small islands and sea life.
Nanaimo is a small city. We had heard it had good SCUBA diving and a small island called Newcastle Island. We were saddened to find out no diving trips were available on short notice, but we were able to ride a small dinghy to Newcastle. There, we hiked along beaches abundant in purple stars and through woods filled with banana slugs. We had a seafood dinner on a floating restaurant in the harbor accessible only by boat. As we walked back to our room, we came upon a rabbit warren in a small seaside park. From Nanaimo, we rode a Greyhound bus to what would be my favorite of the three cities we visited—Victoria.
Victoria is a beautiful city. It is the capital of B.C. It has beautiful architecture and—as one of the oldest cities in Canada—has a rich history that is visible all around. We visited a museum, watched IMAX documentaries, toured Craigdarroch Castle, took a ghost tour, and walked all over town admiring the city itself. Unfortunately, even Victoria has a junky problem as I saw a man surreptitiously shooting up on the steps of a Community Christian Center. Local parks also had small trash bins for used syringes. We spent two days in Victoria. Steven met us there the second night. The next morning Erika would return to the U.S. and Steven and I would begin the six day journey called The West Coast Trail.
Gyakushu Goes Live
One of my jobs during my days at TOKYOPOP was directing Motion Comics (then called iManga). Riding Shotgun and I Luv Halloween were both released shortly after completion. My favorite of the projects was Gyakushu. Unfortunately, for various reasons, it was never released. Thankfully, that has changed. It has been over two years since we completed it, but the Motion Comic version of Dan Hipp’s book is finally online at Hulu.