RIP Easy To Grin

So, the boat is gone. Gone Gone. It drug anchor at night and washed up on the rocks. The loss I am feeling, even though it wasn't my boat... it fucking hurts. I put a lot of time and energy in that tri, and I didn't want it to end like this.

I just spent the day helping remove the remains off the beach, and the remainder snorkeling trying to find my few and precious belongings. I am left with a my ULA backpack, one trekking pole, a few tent stakes, the stove portion of my jetboil, and my sleeping bag. It could be worse, but my Wild Oasis tent, Arcterxy rain jacket, my beloved green Patagonia vest, all my thermal layers, and my cherished Thermarest Neo Air are all floating around in the Pacific. We are going back out in the morning to see if any of it comes back in with the tide. It funny that I hadn't snorkeled this whole trip, and now I am searching for the pieces of my life. At least, my hiking life. Those items kept me alive for over six months, 2,665 miles.

But I still have my life and we all walked away. We were sleeping on shore, at a friends place. What really sucks is when we got off the boat, I was going to take my entire backpack. It was calling me, and for some reason I just tossed some clothes in a smaller pack, and abandoned my duties to my gear. Somehow I think of Edward Norton... "That was not a bunch of stuff that got destroyed, it was me."

And its true, I can't survive without that gear. It was my home, my kitchen, my means of mobile existence. This shit doesn't happen in the mountains, I should have known better. :(

I told you an upbeat blog was coming your way, only not in this post. Please keep the skipper in your thoughts, he lost a lot more then I did. Sorry Dave.