- May 18, 2011
- Boat is Always Half Full
All photo credit to Jeremy Koreski.
Or perhaps you caught a glimpse of this month's cover of Surfer Magazine, featuring none other than Pete again. In case you missed both of those, look no further; for he's gone out and posted up again. Not unlike the Pete we've come to know and love, this entry features a little look into the adventurous style that makes for an everyday experience in the world of Mr. Devries and co. Accompanied by his compatriot Jeremy, these two cannot get enough of the great outdoors and the epic conditions that life on the way Northern Pacific coast can bring. Enjoy a taste of a day in the life of...and go get some adventures of your own while you're at it. And in case you have yet to meet your moment, be sure to log on and drop in with a posting of your own at www.meetthemoment.com We look forward to seeing what you've been up to lately!
A camping trip in Canada is all about adventure. Up here, you never know what's going to happen when you jump on a boat and head out into the open ocean. There's always the anticipation of perfect uncrowded waves, but nine times out of ten those thoughts are just hopes. Scoring is a science up here, and with our ever changing conditions and unexpected weather patterns, we have a long way to go before we get it right. I'm the keen one in the group. I always want to go, even if it's marginal. I guess that's the optimist in me. I forget about the 3 hour boat rides there and back, the soakings from wind and rain, and the fact that the waves will most likely not be that good.
Jeremy Koreski and I set out at first light, packing up the boat and putting on our winter gear, even though it's summer. We make one stop at the fuel dock to top up, and then we are off. We are the only ones on this mission. The wind and tides are questionable. We will get one session right before dark in marginal swell, and one first thing in the morning with a new swell. The surf in the morning is what we are going for. The Innersection deadline is coming up quick and we are still short on water barrel clips, something we need to round out the part. Light drizzle and wind give way to a cloudy calm day, as we pound our way up the coast in Jeremys' small welded aluminum craft. We don't see a soul the entire trip. As we round the corner to our favourite slab, we see that it is chest high and way too small to be productive. The conditions are clean with a bit of bump, but I am out there anyway. The session is fun with just us in the water; Jeremy swimming in the pit with his fisheye. A couple little barrels come in, but the waves we came for have yet to arrive.
Camp is set up in a little opening in the forest. It's actually a bear trail that we've decided to take over, and it evolves every time we come up here. Flat pieces of reef are used as makeshift tables and cutting boards, the fire pit is surrounded in stone and there is space for four or five tents. It is also completely hidden from view by boat. The morning brings a nice sunrise, but the fog that frequents us in the summer soon moves in thick. We can't see the waves or tell if it's any bigger, so we charge it to see what we find. It's a bit overhead and glassy. Sets are hard to see in the thick fog but there are a few good ones. We line up for a few small ones and get a couple of clips. Towards the end of the session the wave of the day comes in. We are both in position to line up for a nice barrel clip that turns out to be one of the best clips in my section. This never happens out here! Usually, I see so many good waves that are just out of reach. The boat ride home is sketchy. The fog is thick, and makes navigating through exposed reefs very difficult. We use Jeremy's Iphone with a GPS app, which is more detailed than his handheld GPS. He drives while I navigate. We need to go through a gap in the rocks in a zone where waves peak up a couple miles offshore, and you never know when something is going to break. Even on a clear day this stretch of coast is one of the worst on the island. The fog makes us loose sense of time and place. We follow the GPS, and we both think we've overshot the gap, but it turns out the GPS is right. The rest of the trip gets a little easier. We take a wider route offshore to stay away from breaking waves just to be safe. The hour long stretch that follows feels like two, with no sense of place. Finally we get to the mouth of the inlet that will take us home, and with the coastline in view, we just sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride.
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- B Cole