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3 Month Delay

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Fabio and Me

It’s been a while. This year has turned into a busy one. Much of my time is, unfortunately, spent sitting at a computer, but I do manage to get out a fair amount.

That is indeed Fabio in the photo above. I do meet celebrities every once in awhile, but I try to avoid being that annoying guy who begs for photos and autographs. There are, of course, exceptions. When I discovered that the man who shirtlessly adorned every romance novel in the 80s and 90s, the man who recorded amazing work-out videos and romance cassettes, the man who appeared in hilarious bit parts on many B-rate TV series, the man who hocked butter that wasn’t butter, the man who defeated a goose with his nose on a roller coaster would be at my local Whole Foods Market—I knew fate had smiled upon me. I also knew that my dearest pal, Bryan Nelson, would never forgive me if I passed up this serendipitous opportunity. And so, Erika and I traveled to the Glendale Whole Foods just so I could meet Fabio (and apparently buy his whey protein powder). Who says dreams don’t come true?

Besides being shackled to a computer and admiring Fabio, I’ve also been keeping to a relatively frequent climbing schedule. I attended the Red Rock Rendezvous in Nevada again this year. It’s an annual climbing festival filled with clinics, events, and vendors giving away lots of great stuff (Mammut gave me a free $90 headlamp!). Despite having our tent destroyed by high winds again, we had a great time. My highlight this year was my multi-pitch clinic where I got to go trad climbing for the first time. If you aren’t familiar with the term, trad is traditional climbing, what some consider “real climbing.” It’s the type of climbing where a group starts at the base of a rock and places protection as they climb up bringing the rope up with them. As they make their way up the rock pitch-by-pitch, the follower removes (or cleans) the protection. I took on the role of follower. Leading a trad climb is the dangerous part and requires experience and practice. The guide was our leader. We climbed four pitches on a 5.8 (moderate) route. Besides Erika and I, a few of our friends came to the Rendezvous this year also. Maybe we’ll get even more folks there in 2013.

One of the nice things about attending the Red Rock Rendezvous are the cool people you meet. I met a guy named Mark who has been climbing nearly as long as I’ve been breathing. He offered to start taking me trad climbing. I’ve been trying to move into trad, but it’s difficult since I’m the most experienced climber amongst my friends. The multi-pitch clinic at Red Rock and Mark’s offer were two great opportunities that graced me on the same day. Two weeks ago, Mark made good on his offer and we headed over to Idyllwild and climbed a six pitch route on Tahquitz Rock. It was a low-grade easy route, but snow had fallen earlier that week. The base was covered in snow and four of the six pitches also had a bit of snow on them. That made the ascent a little tricky, but dealing with the snow was a valuable piece of  additional climbing experience. Mark and I are heading back tomorrow.

I’ve also been doing as much canyoneering as I can squeeze in. I’ve run Rubio Canyon multiple times in the last few months and Karl and I ran Little Santa Anita last weekend. If we’re lucky, we’ll get a permit to do Mystery Canyon in Zion this summer.

In closing, a huge thing that happened in the last few months was the completion of “The Many Maladies of Marty Mitchell.” This is a short kids’ show I shot in my living room three years ago. It was finally finished and premiered in March. We held a Butcher Bird Studios Screening at the Goethe Institute on March 16th. We showed several of the projects we’ve worked on together and with others. We closed the night with the premiere of “Marty Mitchell.” It felt really good to finally be able to show it to people, especially those who helped make it happen.

hanging out

Ouray Ice Climbing

Icy Start

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Ouray Ice Climbing

And so the year the world ends begins. What better way to celebrate than by jabbing sharp metal into icicles and ascending them? The Extreme Things Adventure Club has visited the Ouray Ice Climbing Festival a few times in the past, but I have never gone. It is a bit pricier than other excursions partly because it involves transport to and lodging in Colorado. This time Erika and I decided the cost was justified.

Nine of us boarded an Allegiant Air jet Thursday morning, January 5th. I had never heard of them and they are cheap so I was a bit skeptical. They do charge for everything: beverages, snacks, seat assignments, etc. But, it was fine. I don’t have many expectations or requirements for air travel, especially for a flight under two hours. If they service areas you intend to travel, it is worth looking into their prices. We landed in Grand Junction, CO in the early afternoon and headed for a large cabin in Ridgway—right next door to Ouray (pronounced yoo-ray). The cabin was quite large: three bedrooms, two stories and a huge basement being converted into more living space. The incomplete nature of the basement made it seem rather creepy and a certain member of the group refused to enter it alone.

We had two days and a night to visit the area. This gave us enough time to visit the festival, partake of the night life, soak in an underground hot spring (known as the Vaporcave), visit Telluride and its ski resort, and meet Telluride’s local rasta. Oh, and drive through the mountains at night in a snow storm.

Thankfully, there were enough spaces available at the Ice Festival that all of us were able to try ice climbing. A few of us enrolled in a six hour seminar and had a full day of ice climbing instruction. I would later recognize one of our instructors while flipping through one of my climbing magazines—Jack Tackle. Apparently he is a bad-ass mountaineer and alpine climber. I thank him for belaying me on my first ever ice climb. Ice climbing is similar to rock climbing, yet drastically different. It uses many of the same principles, but it is entirely dependent on your abilities to wield its gear: crampons and ice tools (think pointy boots and pick axes). Although I hadn’t climbed before, I ended up in the intermediate class. This worked out well because we spent more time climbing than talking. I was able to climb six times and finished each 50-60 foot route. On my last two climbs, I did begin to feel some exhaustion in my arms. I tried a variation up a thin section of ice on my very last climb that was psychologically and physically taxing, but rewarding. I am certainly interested in climbing more ice.

Ouray is a tiny mountain town with an inviting atmosphere. We spent a fair amount of time in O’Briens Pub, but my favorite place was Mouse’s Chocolates. Their chocolates are fantastic and locally made. During the festival, Mouse’s was selling large chunks of chocolate decorated like ice climbers.

Overall, not a bad way to start a new year.

Return from the Subway

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Karl launches into Subway

I’m back from Utah. Karl, of Extreme Things, and I were doing a bit of canyoneering through the Left Fork of the Virgin River—a route called Subway. It’s a great slot canyon with a few rappels, squeezes, and swims. We added a bit of extra adventure to our trip by accidentally entering the canyon too soon adding four rappels to the hike. The adventure compounded when we realized a few members of an inexperienced group of ten had followed us down and were stranded on a ledge 35 feet above the canyon floor.  Karl ascended our rope, built them harnesses from webbing, and I belayed them down to safety. The next several hours were filled with awesome canyoneering and a bit of babysitting as we helped the group navigate the more technical obstacles. I, of course, brought along the GoPro and intend to post a video and more in-depth trip report later.

A couple of videos I directed recently are also online now. The first is this year’s commercial for the West Hollywood Book Fair. The second is one of three Combat Arms shorts we at Butcher Bird Studios  did for Nexon earlier this summer. The other two should hopefully be completed soon.

Rubio Rapping

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My preferred outdoor activities tend to involve rocks or water—something to climb over or pass through. My favorite outdoor activities involve both. And that is why I enjoy canyoneering so much, especially technical canyoneering. For those unfamiliar with the term, canyoneering (canyoning outside the U.S.) is essentially hiking through a canyon. Frequently, these canyons are the homes of rivers and waterfalls. This may call for wading, swimming, scrambling, climbing, and/or rappelling. Technical canyoneering tends to require specialty equipment for rappelling and climbing. Canyoneering is what Aaron Ralston was doing in 127 Hours before his mishap.

Although I have hiked several non-technical canyons (such as the Zion Narrows and Surprise Canyon) without a guide, I had not descended any technical canyons without trained leadership (such as my first time in 2008). I spent a lot of time last year acquiring proper rock climbing training and honing climbing skills. There is a lot of overlap between climbing and canyoneering skill sets. Thus, I decided this year would be a good time to attempt technical canyoneering without guidance.

My friend Karl (of Extreme Things) and I decided Rubio Canyon in the San Gabriel Mountains would be a good test run. We ran the canyon twice: once in late February when water flows were big and cold, and again in late May when flows were more moderate. Above is a video compilation of those two trips.

Next up is Subway in Zion National Park in a few weeks.

Descending Into Middle Earth

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I have been to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and I have lived to speak of it. I am being a bit facetious with my melodrama, although many have and will die venturing into the canyon. It is not a trip to enter into unprepared, but its rewards are spectacular.

I have been a member of Karl’s Extreme Things Adventure Club for a few years now. We’ve been many places and tried many things, yet this was our first collective trip into the Grand Canyon. I had only been once over a decade ago and had only spent a couple of hours at the rim. This time we would backpack down to the river, spend the night, and hike back up the following day.  The canyon is roughly a mile deep. The hike to Bright Angel Campsite at the bottom is roughly 7-8 miles. The hike back out via a different trail would be 9 miles…all uphill. The air temperature topped 100 degrees during the middle of the day. Heat exhaustion is a serious concern, especially with 40+ lbs. on your back. This was the first Extreme Things event I’ve been on where Karl felt it necessary to turn down participants he didn’t think were physically capable. Backpacking the Grand Canyon is a great—albeit arduous—trip, but it is beyond the capabilities of many.  Do not attempt it if you are inexperienced. We saw several people hiking down with little or no water. My hope is they turned around before they exceeded their personal thresholds.

I could write more about the trip and eventually I may. I will also post a GoPro video eventually. For the time being, enjoy some of the photos. If you want to see even more, check out my Facebook album.

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My Life With a GoPro

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Early in 2010 I  eagerly opened a box containing my brand new GoPro HD Hero. It was a small (practically tiny) $300 video camera that I would be able to take anywhere. And I did. Over the last year and a half, I have dragged that miniature camera across snow, through deserts, over rocks, down into the ocean, through canyons, over waterfalls, alongside canoes, and wherever else I remembered to take it. Some of that footage has appeared in various videos in my Vimeo GoPro Album. Because of those videos, people often ask me about the GoPro—if they should buy one, what model, what attachments, etc. Thus, I’ve decided to put together this post answering all of those questions (and maybe some people haven’t asked).

Which Model? Original or 960?
The GoPro HD Hero can shoot both flavors of HD: 720p or 1080p. It can also shoot at 960p which is essentially 720p with 240 extra lines of pixels. 960 is a squarish picture instead of 720s rectangular widescreen picture (4:3 ratio instead of 16:9). I almost always shoot in 960 mode. Yes, the image quality is much better at 1080 and yes, the fisheye distortion is more prominent in 960 and 720 modes. Why do I shoot mostly 960? The GoPro (as I use it) is rarely operated by a person. It is usually attached to some person or object, aimed in  a direction and turned on. The lens is very wide angle, but without an operator it can’t be expected to always compose the most interesting shot. I shoot at 960 and edit at 720. That gives me 240 extra lines of pixels along the top and bottom of my image that I can use to recompose my shot. It makes a huge difference. GoPro now offers a cheaper version of the HD Hero (the 960) that eschews the 1080 mode. When I buy my next GoPro, I would consider that model if it wasn’t missing one other feature: 720p at 60 frames-per-second. Why is that important? Most of us edit our videos at 30 or 24 frames-per-second. If we shoot at 60, we can get some decent looking slow-motion shots.  I used that feature several times in my Hesperia Swimstream video. If only 960 mode could shoot at 60 fps (I’m sure GoPro knows we all want this)! The other reason I will probably buy another original HD Hero and not the 960 is because of the recent release of the LCD Bacpac. It’s a screen that attaches to the back of your camera. It lets you see what you are shooting and review your footage in camera. No, the base GoPro does not have a LCD screen attached. Often times you wouldn’t be able to see the screen anyway since the camera is designed to go where you can’t. When I am in a situation where I can operate the camera and compose shots, I absolutely shoot in 1080 mode. My advice when choosing a model is to decide if you need the higher resolution and slow-motion capabilities. If not, get the 960 and save 80 bucks. Just keep in mind, that 80 bucks may not seem like such a big deal when you find yourself in a situation where you would love to get a slow-mo shot or a less distorted higher resolution 1080 shot of something.

What Accessories?
I bought  the Helmet Hero Pack. Within a year, I bought almost every other attachment. I’ve yet to use many of them. Here’s what I’ve learned. The GoPro on a headstrap showed me just how much we move our heads. POV (point-of-view) footage gets boring very quickly unless other people are in the shot. The headstrap and helmet attachments are very useful. They capture great footage for you to edit in with other footage. Don’t rely on them solely. I recommend buying whichever attachments most fit your sport. For most people, my strongest recommendations are the chest harness and tripod mount. I use the chest harness more often than every other attachment combined. It is not right for every circumstance, but it often gets the camera where you want it and keeps it stable and focused in a general direction. It also keeps the camera easily accessible. You can quickly see when you are and aren’t recording, quickly detach it and catch a shot from a different angle, or flip it upside down and aim it at your face. Keep in mind, you can also wear the camera on your back. That’s how we got a few of the cooler shots in Big Bear Slipstream. So, why the tripod mount? Isn’t the point of the camera that it can move around, go anywhere, and not be locked to a tripod? Yes. Buy the tripod mount, but don’t put it on a tripod (unless you need to for a shot). Attach it to a monopod—an extendable stick.  A GoPro on a six-foot-long stick can capture lots of great footage from almost any angle. I only recently bought the tripod mount and I wish I had bought it much sooner. A few weeks ago I was using it to hold the GoPro over the edge of a waterfall to get footage of my friend rappelling from above. I see videos online all the time of people using this approach to get amazing skydiving and surfing shots. I’m also pretty fond of the suction cup mount. It’s great for boating and for mounting to cars. It’s how I got the canoeing shots in Black Canyon (You can also see some 720 60fps slow-motion action in that video). Do keep a safety line attached to it just in case. There are lots of other attachments. I’ve liked each one I’ve used. Get the ones you need for the shots you want to get.

Should I get it as my still camera?
The GoPro isn’t just an HD video camera. It also shoots stills. It can even shoot time-lapse (a photo every second or so until you tell it to stop or the battery dies). I almost never use these features. I do intend to start experimenting with the time-lapse options, but I see little use for the single photo feature. You can’t see and compose the shot unless you have the newly released LCD Bacpac attached. If you are trying to capture an action, you are probably better off getting it as a video. The photo function is a nice additional feature and can be used in clever ways other cameras can’t, but I would not recommend buying the GoPro instead of a proper still camera.

Overview
I love my GoPro. For a $300 video camera, it is amazing. It is tough as hell. I saw a posting online where someone dropped it when skydiving and it still functioned when they retrieved it on the ground. I’ve taken it 60 feet under the ocean with no problems. There are a number of things you need to keep in mind, although. It is an inexpensive camera. It is fully automated. You will have no control over aperture, ISO, or other features you may expect from a prosumer level camcorder or DSLR. It shoots to SD cards in MP4 format. This keeps it fast and inexpensive, but does mean lower sampling rates for your data. Do expect some artifacting and pixelation. If you like to take it wet places, water will stick to the lens on your housing and affect your images. I recently read a piece of advice online that said Rain-X combats this effectively. I have not tried this out yet, but I intend to very soon. The inside of the housing will fog up because of temperature changes (especially dunking it in cold water on a hot day). Thankfully, GoPro sells anti-fog inserts that work spectacularly. I have been pleasantly surprised with the battery life of the GoPro. I’ve yet to run out of juice when I’ve needed it. If you are not like me and prefer to run your camera non-stop GoPro does offer a battery bacpac that prolongs your record time.

For a $300 (now even cheaper) camera, this thing is pretty fantastic. If you want to get video places you normally can’t, buy one. I’m looking forward to their next generation of cameras and I hope we will eventually start getting prosumer features at a modest price.

Note: I took both of the photos in this post with a Panasonic GH1 Micro 4/3 camera with their 20MM pancake lens. These photos were not taken with a GoPro.

Falling Out of a Plane

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 Post Tandem Skydive

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.

BC Summer — Part 2 (of 2)

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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.

wct002

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.

wct003

Read the rest of the story and see more pictures…

BC Summer — Part 1 (of 2)

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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.

More photos after the cut…