VANCOUVER ISLAND WINDTALK

Oregon 2008 Travel Log (no, there is no requirement for u to read it)

Travel Day:
Caught the 1930 Coho after work and a bit of last minute maintenance. The Kusschine is gleaming, new rack, floor sealed against sand and water, ready to rock. Stood around waiting for the friggin’ customs guys who never showed til it was almost time to go. I eat the last bits of beef jerky in a frenzy as I finally see the guy coming…not to worry, he just doesn’t like people importing open dog food and oranges. The crossing actually took 1hr 35min for a change, not 2 but it’s almost that with the customs line-up. Staved dinner needs off by eating a Coho hot dog, yikes, what happened to the body is my temple thing? Yuk. Odo 102,880km. Driving the windy 101 road along the Olympics, I dread the poor pavement only to be treated to brand spanking blacktop on all the bad sections, up to Hamma Hamma beach, maybe 20mi. from the I5 Junction. NICE! Banked turns, new reflectors, delineators, great signage….way to go, WA DOT. All illuminated by the most amazing full moon in the clear sky, wicked! 2 ½ hrs to the junction. I make it to the Safeway in Centralia with ½ hr to spare before 1a.m. close. The Safeway Gas station wants my Safeway Card, then Credit Card, then to know my zip code to let me fuel….well, I have a postal code…it seems to laugh and won’t let me fuel. Bank Card it is. The checkout guy asks “so hey, what’s it, Columbia? Like?? I am speechless…then I chime in not bothering to explain the difference between that and BC, “it’s kinda nice, sorta like here. You know, Safeways, people around, like that”. He seems happy. First set of rations, Deschutes Inversion IPA and some FullSail LTD. I feel the American dream with a sweaty brown one between my legs cruising down I-5 toward Portland. The need to sleep comes a bit too early, I make it to 3:30, no more. Woodland it is. Quickly arrange my complimentary IWindsurf account only to be mired in computer problems…..another day, maybe HollowBones can figure it out tomorrow, although I’m thinking Florence all the way for the weekend, forecast 25 Friday, 20 with 25 Saturday, 20 Sunday. All sounds good.

Careless Day, Day #2:

Got up in the Safeway/McD’s Woodland parking lot where I found some wifi, took my time dragging my butt of out bed. 5 hrs sleep should do it. The forecast has gone to crap for the coast, no more than 15 all days. Hood River once again, getting kinda old but at least they have gear there, not to mention very fit young women to gawk at who love (and beat yer ass at) windsurfing  I slap on the blueberry Eggos. Make the java. Oooops, burned the Eggos, ooops, pushed the plunger on the coffee press to hard….floaties. Sign of things to come: Bit of a careless day today. The last bit of drive went easily enough though I have to get used to the American Driver Ace again….yes, block traffic in the passing lane, then cut everybody off to take the next exit only to come shooting back onto the lane. Or the trucker who needs to pass cuz he’s going 1/2mph faster than you…..then once the cab is past you, signals and starts changing lanes back. Onramps….look out, the guy coming on has the right of way apparently, not matter who’s in the lane….F’s sake! No wonder there’s guns involved in road rage down here. The center lane is the place to be….don’t look….don’t move…..nobody gets hurt. I almost miss the 84 Turnoff again, odo 103,231. Only one trooper and he was busy….me on cruise 62mph, it’s all good. I get there in 1 ½ hrs, about 5 1/4hrs total driving from Port Angeles, odo 103,340km (460km). Fuel down to $4.07/Gal in Oregon, down from $4.22 with an average of $4.34 in Wa. I pick up Thai for lunch, spectra rope for new downhauls at Windance, send emails and we’re off, me and my sail loft on wheels.
Got to the Hatchery, blowing pretty good, 4.0-4.7. Took Jesus from the roof bag, put it down, stomped onto the fridge roof vent. Crunnnnnch! Turn to see WTF, the board gets bumped, lifts, flies……I almost have it, then it slips from the roof, barely missing a brand new Subaru 12 feet below….at least I didn’t bail on top of it. Amazingly only a small nose ding, no other damage, couple of scuffs. Lateron it gets another good scuff….as the lawn chair takes flight, crashing onto the board, man it’s windy. Solid 4.2 really with the odd need for the 4.7 I have up and a bigger board for the holes, great swell today despite the gusty conditions, 20-35kn. By the time I got here the pros are gone inland (3.8 in the morning here) and the work crowd hasn’t arrived yet. I am the rare person who carries his gear on their head and draw stares. Slippery rocks as usual but today I’m not a victim. Only a few others out but the goon factor is subsequently a bit elevated…..look out! I sail reasonably well and am spent after 3-4 hrs of ripping around on the decent sized swellets, trying a few backies but nothing much else. The hip signals it’s time to quit….and that closed blood blister on my hand, already! arrg.
After my sesh I knock back the Thai food, a couple beers, snooze. Waking to gusting, rocking the boat. I decide to move the rig out of the dust and tight to the trees for shade…..a bit too close. There goes the starboard clearance light….I thought about maybe sesh #2, perhaps now is not the time, jeeeeez. Hanging out at the sunny Hatch, Urethra Franklin on the stereo, where TF is THAT coming from?? Stupid ITunes. Back to Buffet for a change…..ever notice how Jimmy is really kinda jazzy? I HATE JAZZ . Soundgarden, yes. Now lesee if I can glue back that clearance light….I notice everyone pisses in the bushes at the edge of the parking lot even tho there’s porta cans everywhere, Roll. The wind and swell are still just great at 1930hrs. I want to but have nothing left, story of my life, ha! Even Dave’s favourite Rob shows up for a quick lateshow. I surf at El Rinconcito, head to secret church spot for blissful sleep away from the trains.

Hopeful Day #3:

Yes I hope things improve…on the Alzheimer department. Truck wouldn’t start this morning. Ah, bloody charger, use RV batts to start, nothing! Aaahh, what now? Check check, double triple check. All batts good, must be the starter, crap. Oh, what’s that D? Left it in drive on an incline for the night. Whew, lucky again. The church fence would never have been the same…..not to mention a new meaning to wet dreams. Be careful. Definitely wearing a helmet today, poor bugger died at Dough's yesterday thinking about picking up some hockey gear  Blowing already, hatching with hopes for Oceanside frying up sum Spanish omlette in the parking lot. Get to the Hatchery at 0830 after updating reports in Bingen again at Rinconcito, great signal. HollowBones already has half a day sailing in, quick bacon, hashbrowns, eggs breaky and off onto the water which is getting more crowded all the time. Wind gets flukey, Dave’s off and ready for Doug’s, I go back for a few runs only to say “screw this” after almost endless close calls on the wave or jumping in the crowd. We head to Doug’s where things are calmer, actually too calm and very hot. After resting there, eating those great berries off the trees (no, they are not poisonous and don’t give you the runs, Dave, jeez) tried to sail with Hoser but it’s sucking hard. Evening run back to the Hatch, everyone’s left, the wind kicks up great swell, sailing is awesome!! After a series of great floaty backies, I am surprised to land standing on and then fall off the board. Can’t really get any closer to sailing away from one. We have an after sesh beer until dark. Great day. Bingen updates and we hear tunes blasting in the streets….We close the local Poker Chips bar for the more than sufficiently fed after taking in the live band and their antics, people watch with great interest and take lots of photos. Bingin’ in Bingen. Church parking lot at 4a.m. for snoozes.

Day #4: Hatching in Agony

It’s Sunday and we are paranoid about crowds, arriving at the Hatch at crack past 7. I cook breakfast for the crew, bacon, eggs, toast, hashbrowns, juice, Hoser spices things up with a cantaloupe and organic apple juice from Lyle. I keenly picked the most suitable spot for the rig to be able to vacate when things get nuts…..they never do, the wind is lamish, the Hatch is getting a bit old already and everyone has a below average sail. One backie fully rotated, I blow a stainless steel harness bar (made in China, go figure), the geriatrics at Swell City had about 5 knots less wind than the Hatch. My 5.3, 95L barely got me back downwind to the hatch, swell is nowhere as good as last night, winds are gusty and weak. I have third sailing day blues and a wicked combination hangover / River Sinusitis and rest for most of the hot day and watch Rob Warwick and countless other stylers that make us feel unworthy to sail there. Interestingly no bonehead manoeuvres today, I obviously need to drink more alcohol! Windoc, Hoser, Steph, Simon, Randy and lateron Pete show up, all getting a Hatchery lame”o” treatment except for Simon who missed out altogether by driving to stamp-sorting-on-the-beach Doug’s. We have a wind down powwow at the Marina parking lot where Hoser assists the lovely new Gorge Games Brasilian kiting champion with a photo shoot….or so he would have us believe. They were gone below the shoreline bushes for quite a while, rumours abound…Mexican food for dinner, ice cream for dessert, beers to watch the sun go down, Grandma candle makes a brief appearance in the dark. Internet and webmail updates at Windance, then off to Gravel Pit #2. Apart from us, three other vehicles. People pass on beers for the sake of a good night’s rest.

Day #5: Could it be Doug’s?

Things are peaceful, the stars are in the sky, the crickets making their nightly sounds. Cool air finally from some great mountain breezes….until the logging trucks start at 5a.m.. S-S-S and I’m ready to tackle HR. Sunny and hot already. I manage to evade the parking witch downtown conserving my rare quarters like a Bedouin his water in the desert: Stores don’t open for another hour, coffee’s empty, I’m hyped and I only have 3 left from the stash I acquired from Grounds Coffee. No Wifi signal, poor parking planning, I await the arrival of the bankers to work their minimal hours. You’d think Surfshops would open BEFORE and AFTER its windy….another mystery of the universe. Today I plan to scour the aisles for a longboard….skateboard that is. I find only parts for the Gath helmet, $3, some board shorts & other clothes and a new spreader bar for $5, nice! I feel this holiday is CHEAAAAP, I need to spend more dough! I’m disappointed in Second Wind, nothing but crap this time . Also as I go to pick up Lampoei’s Thai I find out the man rests on Mondays, wtf is THAT all about? Some Asian work ethic, just takes a day off a week, jeez. We hit Doug’s where we find out from Hoser that we missed out bigtime on the Hatch dawn patrol, bummer, shopping like girls we were, but we scored first rate parking. Doug’s again makes us wait forever hence the great parking I suppose, finally it hits, the crowds all show up, then the gusts, then hits and gusts some more. We enjoy some very mediocre sailing. Back at the Marina we beer, Taco Del Mar fish burrito the size of a 5lb salmon, and find our homestead at parking lot W. All the comforts of home, BBQ, high speed internet, water, power, what more can we possibly want?? Well, maybe the bored Swedish bikini team looking for some entertainment, haha. We watch some WS vids, laugh our heads off about the 2006 coast trip pix, beer some more and pass out.

Big Tuesday, #6:

I am awakened by first huge wind gusts, then some guy banging on my door….uh oh, I figure, but it’s just a fellow camper/worker who needs to use the can and I blocked him in in his camou garage behind a fence…minimum wage and a place to park but not to pee. I oblige, let him out and go back to sleep only to be overcome by the dawn patrol urge. I cannot entice HBD to come, dart to the Hatch where I find plenty of wind….and patches of glass….and more bigtime wind. I last only ¾ hr before my arms give out, 10-40, way over with the 4.7 in the gusts, swimming or slogging in the lulls. The only other sailors out are three moms with their 3.7’s who scored a couple hours childcare (What a different way of life and all look so damn healthy). Great swell tho, too bad about the glassy bits. I offer bacon ‘n eggs around the almost vacant parking lot to only get a “no thanks” and garner “whattaya, some kinda weirdo?” looks. Perhaps US paranoia extends even to the Hatchery. Off to Bingen hotspot (which was not very hot today, got old waiting for pages to load) to find out the boyz left for Arlington and I find out my new boards will arrive in 2 days. Woohoo! I go back to the Hatch, cook an amazing luncheon feast of beans and wieners with a dry bun…..champions eat like this!! Then off for a well-deserved 2hr snooze thinking about an eve sesh….only to be rudely awakened as my head is bouncing off the bedroom wall….what now? Am I being towed?? Heavy wind gusts rock the kusschine in the parking lot, enough to spill your beer. I lower the board with my new rope technique (clever inventor that I am), lest I send another board careening across the parking lot. I rig and have the most wicked River sesh ever, totally flat floppy 3.7, 80L, and me and my new-found pro friends (I’m the only stranger from out of HR it seems) are all hideously overpowered and loving it. Tony Logoz, a variety of others I recognize but can’t name all comment that, “holy crap, I’m soooo over on my” 2.9, 3.5 etc.. People can hardly believe the size of swell, unheard of except in the Eastern Gorge. To get into the water pretty much everyone chucked the rig into the river as the point rocks were awash. During rush hour you could ride the same swelly wave almost clear across the river, the heights were intimidating, almost coast like, certainly overhead. I try two token backies just to fit in, come close to sticking one to my amazement again (these are getting easier), nobody is landing ANYTHING, most are not even trying, never seen that before. On the way back it is noteworthy that the troopers on the Wash side seem to generate a lot of revenue for the local coffers…I got zapped but luckily scored a pass on the way out. The bridge buck fifty every crossing for the rig also feeds the social programs. After I have my arms amputated I do Windance surfing, Marina fried chicken & veggies, Deschutes IPA and snooze more, waiting for the clan to return. BTW There is a free power pole at the front row for charging batteries and such, utilized it to charge up some guy’s van battery who left his radio on too long while kiting . Dave's van blew up I find out as they finally show after 10, bummer and bucks, had a beer late in W parkinglot before sacking out. Too wired to sleep for a while yet. Gusting winds all night again. Pretty cold too, a good sign but enough to consider breaking out the second blanket….I manage and close the windows for the first time. Repeat??

Tendonitis Wednesday, Day #7:
Instant replay of yesterday. Freaking nukin’ at the Hatch!!! I scarf down a breakfast burrito, admire the sights behind the counter and tip heavily. Soon I am waiting around with the boyz on the Hatch gallery but can’t stand looking at the same 10 guys on their tiny sails rippin’ it up. 3.7, downhauled to the max off I go. The 80L is way too much as is the sail. It’s consistently windier than yesterday with sustained gusts in the neighbourhood of 45knots, at times it feels like more. Going sideways fully sheeted out, fins washing out on wavefaces as I dig in the rail and tail to slow down. Gybes happen at Mach2 with a row of death chop just before the flat section that is our sanctuary….I get slammed as the board loses its track a couple times, like waterski wipeouts over 35mph skipping across the water until I hit some chop….this with a rig attached to your feet. Ouch! I try 3 backies late in the game, one I have a chance at landing nicely with huge air but I see “pro sailor whose first name I can’t remember” Whit? Poor a board length behind me out of the corner of my eye, so I decide to dive for a bit to avoid the first slash. As I finally dare to surface he apologizes, hang loose’s (or maybe it’s “get the F out of my way next time”) and he’s off. My arm cannot take any more 1.5 hrs into it and I quit. The boyz are stunned on the rocks with too large gear (3.5’s didn’t cut it early today for smaller guys) taking lotsa pix but nobody makes a move til 1800 and it gets ugly gusty, the swell’s gone, bummer. Still they were wound on 3.5-4.2’s and over in the gusts, what a wicked day! Only in the Gorge. One big guy with the ugliest air dam for his van I have ever seen (like a set leftover from Road Warrior) who carries his BBQ strapped to the back wherever he goes, sparks it up now, the wind gets the coals going in seconds, he inhales 6-8 hot dogs, 105L and 3.7, and promptly is going nowhere fast….another striking local. I bugger off to the W refuge where I score Thai with Dave almost two hours after official closing time (Boss Lampoei needs some more staff for his corporation) and we get our tongues blistered, washing things down with some Full Sail and Heinies. Sleep comes easily, not even hearing the trucker engine brakes this time.

Thursday, Day#8, Day of Rest and Heat Exhaustion:

We wake up to calmness….much too calm even tho a rest is good. Today it’s breakfast bagel time. After that I pick up my boards which are an utter disappointment and I plan to send them back forthwith….refusal of FedEx package it’s called…that sucks. Oh well, more to shop for. We cruise around a bit, then settle in way too long at the “Dood” Coffee shop, spending a small fortune for their “large nothing but black” in a very trendy mug. I mosey around town shopping for my sproggs but find only some lame kite bag and a hoodie. But the sights are amazing as I confer with Pete in the main intersection of town….we need a webcam here!! I avoid getting nailed by the parking wench and consider going to the coast….a mere 1 day forecast of 10-20 stops me in my tracks but by this time I’ve lost the crew. I drop the boards back to FedEx depot, head over to the Isthmus parking lot where I manage to blow off ½ of my right big toenail hitting the brakes in an effort to avoid totalling a family car. Ouch, not planned nor a good thing fer sure. Fill up water for the first time, get a bit of fuel and note the price has dropped to just over $4US/ Gal, finally a reprieve. The Marina it is for the day where I run into Hoser and we sit in the shade, it’s just under 40 degrees inside and out. I shower for the 4th time today to cool off and finally move to the power station where a spot opens to charge things up a bit. The huge Pad Thai serving from yesterday is finished off over lunch in the shade under the trees and cool grass, we read our books and coast into late afternoon. I note both of my boards are bleeding river water today when I decide to better open their vent plugs…..all already venting nicely and not from the vent holes either. Dingstick? I know I have some somewhere. Dave, Pete and Jann show up near dusk and we drift into the evening with beers, Sambuca and my chicken/cauli/spud leftovers. W conference center is our home as we view photos of Tendonitis Wednesday til late.

Friday, RRD Doug’s, Mega Injuries Day#9:

We breakfast in the kusschine and Jann provides Baileys to go with the java, eggs, toast, tomatoes, that’ll have to do. I’m still pretty sore and don’t feel like being a gourmet today. Beaner joins us in the fun as we complete some purchases in the store. Pete and I fight over a 70L Naish Wave in Windance (actually I pretend to buy it cuz he cannot decide between it and another one and is deeply depressed when I walk out with the probable winner, haha. I give it back, the Windance crew is amazed what a dick move that was but they chuckle too  ). Paying huge coin for another universal, holy crap, $48US!! We head to Doug’s and I empty black water en route, still looking for new clearance lights at NAPA and not finding any. Doc/Steph and Dan O from Van arrive shortly after we get settled. Wind is flukey but building, hope this is a better day here today, the last two pretty much sucked hard. And it was…the boyz are having a blast upwind, flipping the usual twisty moves through the heavy air….tho Dan O breaks his foot during a manoeuvre only an hour into things….then Steph steps in a hole twisting her ankle….Chris and Kendra show up with C recovering from a pile driving incident at Klickitat, ouch. Dave deeks out to pick up his chariot and later returns to the action. Ezzy sail, Tabou board demos come too late: I am having a great time ripping along with great swells, have big airs on Hoser’s board til a catapult during my second sesh. I go into the rig hand first and feel a good twinge….nope, can’t gybe or twist the wrist inward. I limp to the beach where later after ice and Vitamin I doses I am examined and treated by Dr. Simon. He figures it’s not broken, good news. I feel sorry for myself and spend the rest of the afternoon watching sick moves by Ezzy Junior who goes into upwind sections of tacks at speeds I barely manage on a broad reach overpowered…..and he exits at the same velocity. Flat water whatevers in knee deep water, one with the board and rig. It is humbling and I turn to more alcohol, what else is an old, pounchy, washed up and broken man to do? I find solace in the notion that there are some very unattractive people in this world as we observe the Bingen night life after a good Mexican dinner. We head to the Church parking lot in a convoy that is reminiscent of the Kuwait invasion, all headlights blasting, flooding up the landscape and throwing lotsa dust…..lights come on in surrounding houses, people peek from their front lawns. Nope, inconspicuous and low profile we are not. Pete and Jann decide early nights in circled wagons is not for them and they go exploring to the Hood. We suck back a couple brown ones and snooze.

Saturday, It’s all over me thinks, Day#10:

I wake to a throbbing wrist….if it’s not broken, it nevertheless is a useless and rather painful appendage. No way I could consider sailing, can’t even hold my toothbrush. Homebound I am afraid, ready to drop off the RRD to the consignment at Windance, fuel up with cheap gas and wonderful microbrews one more time, shop and outta here…a full four days ahead of schedule

KUS: The Hunter S. Thompson of our B.W.D. community

Hey JL, I was wondering what that style reminded me of, thats it! Nice work, Kus, extremely entertaining for us stay-at-homers! Heal up quick!

Re: one-handed sailing, if that guy in the US can do full-on windsurfing with one leg, you should be able to work something out, must be just a matter of moving harness lines forward one side, back the other for the time being . I think someone actually manufactures thesehttp://www.patentstorm.us/patents/6834397/claims.html

No broken foot for me just a bad sprain. but what a week.

Dan O

Fear and Loathing in Hood River

Myths and legends die hard in America. We love them for the extra dimension they provide, the illusion of near-infinite possibility to erase the narrow confines of most men's reality. Weird heroes and mold-breaking champions exist as living proof to those who need it that the tyranny of "the rat race" is not yet final.
-- HUNTER S. THOMPSON, 1937-2005

February was always the cruelest month for Hunter S. Thompson. An avid NFL fan, Hunter traditionally embraced the Super Bowl in January as the high-water mark of his year. February, by contrast, was doldrums time. Nothing but monstrous blizzards, bad colds and the lackluster Denver Nuggets. This past February, with his health failing, Hunter was even more glum than usual. "This child's getting old," he muttered with stark regularity, an old-timey refrain that mountainmen used to utter when their trailblazing days were over. Depressed and in physical pain from hip-replacement surgery, he started talking openly about suicide, polishing his .45-caliber pistol, his weapon of choice. He was trying to muster the courage to end it all.

Then, on February 16th, Hunter decided to leave a goodbye note. Scrawled in black marker, it was appropriately titled "Football Season Is Over." Although he left the grim missive for Anita, his young wife, Hunter was really talking to himself. Here, published for the first time, are perhaps his final written words:

No More Games. No More Bombs. No More Walking. No More Fun. No More Swimming. 67. That is 17 years past 50. 17 more than I needed or wanted. Boring. I am always bitchy. No Fun -- for anybody. 67. You are getting Greedy. Act your old age. Relax -- This won't hurt.

At the bottom of the page, Hunter drew a happy heart, the kind found on Valentine's cards. Four days later, on February 20th, he committed suicide by firing his pistol into his mouth.

Hip replacement surgery pain always bitchy....no fun....for anybody Hmm, I AM a football fan....but I don't own a gun....I do have my explosives ticket tho There are a whole lot of similarities here JL, as much as I'd love to deny them. Hope I can manage for another 22 years tho

"Good people drink good beer.
I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me."

67 as too old to swim etc? HST needed an attitude adjustment! Not the one he chose, either!

I hope to be sound enough to follow my mum's footsteps (you know, the senior who offers to help carry my gear up the Cook St stairs) and still be spry (through the pain of arthritis) and alert and able to drive, travel, hike, birdwatch etc. at the age of 89 - 39 years past Hunter's "best before" age of 50.

Time to watch : "Where the Buffalo roam" 1 more time ... Johnny Dep played a good Hunter S. as well ... 'But it still wasn't weird enough for me ... '

OR coast going off all this week, likely next too, anybody into going? PM me

I'm leaving saturday for 6 days coast/gorge should be fun.

two good days @the coast are worth tens of drifting around at Vic or the lake, if you can go, DOOOO ITTTTTT as busted up as I am still hoping for Thursday to Tuesday travel, coast only prolly, may c u there Dan, will post where I go, taking the kusschine on another journey

So are you heading out tomorrow?

PS - I keep hearing of this Kusschine, where's the pictures for those who haven't basked in its glory?

Hi Ned- yep, Newport and/or Flo bound for hopefully Friday sailing (or, alternatively, heavy micro brew drinking), adjusted departure for the team effort Anyone else? The more the merrier we'll be on the 1930 coho if all goes well

Man, I'm jealous. Good thing I've got some fun things planned for the weekend to ease the pain. I've only been to Newport when fishing for Tuna and stuck there because of weather. Sure do have some killer beaches there.

Pretty sweet machine you have there, so long as you have people to tag along to help pay the fuel!

Hope it nukes for ya!