Tidbits once again

23 June 2009, Patos Island


Yesterday evening while I was working in the field the only visitors to the island, a gentlemen and his two daughters and one of their friends, came down the path while I was looking at Camas seeds. After chatting awhile they invited me out to dinner on their boat. We talked of the island and life, the history and the stories, over hamburgers and wine. It was the first time I had watched the sunset from a boat in Active Cove. Around 10:30 pm he brought me back to the cove below my camp and the dogs rejoiced at my return. The food and company were wonderful, although I lay wide awake at 4 am from a sugar rush from metabolized wine.
While I was going through the past few days of paperwork, it hits me, this is day 7. Seven more to go. It really does make sense, my supplies are half depleted, my work is halfway done. But seven days! Wow, it just seems like a lot already and a whole week to go. I actually find myself craving some aspects of civilization a little bit. Last night spoiled me for the rest of the week.
Today was a really low tide, so I set off to go around the base of the cliffs at the south end of Patos. It was not easy going. I had not even reached Trident Point and I had to walk through the salal and trees. It was through a really thick patch of near duck-and-crawl underbrush that I noticed my right glove missing. I retraced my steps to the last time I was on the beach and couldn’t find it. Sneaky Spanish John must of taken it while I had my head in a cave. Finally, after climbing through chest deep growth for half a mile, I came out on the southern beach near Trident Point. Marking almost halfway around the island. I looked up to the high-tide mark and found treasure trove of beach trash. Enough to fill my knapsack and then some. By the time I reached the cove before Blanchard Bay I was forced to build a crate to carry the pieces that I kept finding. Styrofoam, empty water bottles, oil containers, picnic plates. A plastic cornucopia detailing how we are killing oure planet every day, bit by bit. I added more along the way until I reached what I call Castle Rock, the rock that sticks up separate fromt he headland and is visible from the lighthouse. The furthest point visible from the lighthouse, at this point I was carrying nearly 50 pounds of trash on a makeshift crate on my head. There was still so much trash on the beach that I was unable to collect at that time for the sheer fact that any more items I shoved into my makeshift bundle or my sack, would fall out. Needless to say, it was heartbreaking as I left so much behind for want of room to carry it.
I eventually made it back to camp, completely exhausted and collapsed for half an hour in my hammock so that I might regain some strength. I have to admit I was some what glad that when the group of 12 or so on the beach decided to walk to the lighthouse, they also decided to pass by my camp without disturbing me. I did however feel guilty that I was shirking my duties, and after I heard them walk by towards the beach I followed and introduced myself.
I nearly forgot to mention, Spanish John that sly old coot, decided my glove wasn’t worth keeping and brought it back to the camp and left it laying in the dust where I was sure to find it.