FROM OUR HANDS
My Grandfather left me his axe when he passed away. It wasn't a fancy name brand or a brightly coloured work of art, but it was his. And now it is mine. There was more meaning behind that rusty blade than anyone could imagine. It was a passing of an idea — rather — a legacy. As I hand shape each and every long grained Hickory handle to match its one of a kind refurbished head, I am reminded of that feeling I have bestowed on my own axe. I hope each one of these axes have a similar life and a similar story, packed full of adventures much like the one hanging in my woodshed. Happy chopping friends.
That familiar ring of light flickered on as we tried our best to rid our tent of the early morning dew. One finds out fairly quickly, headlamps are an essential tool when on a road trip. This particular morning we were up early. We had snuck into the campground late and had skipped out on the camping fees. This is common practice when you have set out to try and see the West Coast on a budget.
Bronwyn and I had stormed up this trip one April afternoon driving back from my families cabin in interior BC when we had decided these quick weekend trips were just not cutting it anymore. Over the course of the summer, we planned, built and saved up every overtime hour possible to make sure we could hit the pavement with enough time to capture just a glimpse of the beautiful continent we live on.
Deciding to pack up the tent wet, we push off, dodging the authorities one more time. We have begun to be very efficient in camp pack up. With only one truck and enough climbing and surfing gear to make any sixteen-year-old boy jealous, we had to find ways to cut back on luggage. Our outfit consisted of: one bin each for personal clothes, one shared for outerwear, one large bing dedicated to climbing gear, two dry goods and one for bedding. These all fit nicely on the bed constructed in the back seat of my F150. All said and done, we had created pretty dialed system. It was our home for three weeks and I can say, it is very comforting to know you are able to be self-contained.
As the sun starts to burn off those early fall morning chills, we head down from our previous nights site. As we enjoy the calm feeling of having no destination, no appointment to keep but that of the far off gas station, I notice a slight shimmer on the red rock gracing the side of the winding mountain road. We have become good at looking for these little flashes. Bolts. That familiar feeling of nerves and excitement build as I realize we could potential climb that early morning. The standard climbing spots we had agreed on for this trip were exciting in there own right, but something stirs inside you when you onsite a pitch you hadn’t previously known existed.
It was perfect. This was by no means the hardest climb I had ever done, nor the highest, but as I set up an anchor, I knew I would remember this day for a while. I have found that it is the combination of slight circumstances that create great memories.
We have been fortunate enough to have created many great memories on this trip, all from the accumulation of many small situations coming together to create to something special. From surfing some of the best little rollers in Crescent City, to finding Bronwyn’s Heaven on Earth, Tillamook Smoke House, I can say we were able to accomplish what we set out to do, capture glimpses. I cant wait till our next opportunity to point the truck in a new direction and go capture, Hopefully gas is cheaper then.