Laborless Day

In the Pacific Northwest, most people paddle out two times every ten months. Memorial Day and Labor Day. So, as you might imagine, I have a love/hate relationship with these three day shit shows. On the one hand, it was a wonderful weekend full of friends and family, warm weather and a small swell. It was also a weekend full of ferry waits, kooks and a crowded campground. I complain. But the sweet wouldn't be as sweet without the sour.

Saturday the surf was small. Real small. Four or five hours, a few waves, then we cooked food over a campfire, drank blackberry gin fizz shit and passed out prematurely. Sunday it stood up a bit. Spent seven hours in the surf. I let Joe talk me into a sunset session. The gods were good. Hips to head for an hour and a half. Hung my first five on that big pig bastard. What a way to end the weekend.

Cold Karissa.

Pine Cones.

Fire Feet & Fancy Pants.

Duck Camo Daypack.

Cute Cousin.

Todd + Trees.

Fin or Ollie.

For Fish.


Click here for a few more photos.

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