To Boat Oar Not to Boat | Port Townsend

“Are you nervous?” I asked, glancing towards the shoreline. “Of course I’m nervous,” the skipper responded with a smile, “it’s the biggest docking job of the whole year.” “Stay calm. Whatever you do don’t run around or panic,” ordered the First Mate. He eyed each of us, looking for the first sign of disorder. There... Continue Reading →

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All Hands on Deck

  “All hands on deck! We’re weighing anchor under sail!” the announcement was second or third hand by the time it arrived at my ears. Not knowing what this meant, but sensing the excitement, I ducked out of the galley and hurried to unlatch the heavy waterproof case that held my camera. By day three,... Continue Reading →

Of Fishtails and Flounders

The boat woke up with a rush that Tuesday morning in Montague Harbour. Some had been up for hours already, tossing and turning under the bobbing lights of the anchor watchers changing shifts. It seemed unfair to me to expect thirteen-year-olds to take one hour shifts all night in the company of rain and mist... Continue Reading →

Setting Sail

Six months ago, around a hodgepodge thanksgiving feast. I told a circle of friends the words I associated with the ocean. It was a personality test game. No one remembered what the results were supposed to indicated, but that didn’t stop us from asking. “Dark and terrifying,” I said. I didn’t have to think twice.... Continue Reading →

The Borrowed Snow Day

I didn’t actually believe I was going skiing until about 20 minutes before the unfamiliar fluorescent gear was strapped to my feet. In what world does someone without snow pants or winter tires think: “Tomorrow I will be waist deep in powder hoping my friends like me enough to wait at the bottom of the... Continue Reading →

O Canada

Since returning to Canada, I’ve experienced some (completely unpatriotic) location confusion. I may have even said something like “when I get back to Canada…” while standing on Ontario soil. What I mean of course is when I get back to BC, because there are just a few things about Ontario and Quebec that strike me... Continue Reading →

Wandering On Purpose

For 147 days I’ve been a wanderer. To some that may seem like a small feat, too others it may seem unfathomable. To me it’s a bit of both. The culture I was raised in doesn’t take well to wanderers. We prefer that people have a plan: an education plan, a health care plan, a... Continue Reading →

The Broken

“At first, I was worried there would be a lot of broken people out here,” Marg admitted while sipping a glass of vino tinto under the shade of a bar patio. At the time, we all laughed and agreed. We were all having more fun than expected. Wasn’t there supposed to be some element of... Continue Reading →

The Pessimist

We were huddled under a bus shelter in Paris, barely escaping a downpour and frantically searching a departures board when we met our first pilgrim. His voice was nearly as loud as his florescent orange backpack. “Ye goin’ te Bayonne,” he inquired with a lilting Irish accent. “Yes!” we smiled relieved that we weren’t alone... Continue Reading →

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