Thanks to the Pat, the wounded soldier for the photoshitting the road south with the lads
deer, elk, bears and fluffy the shark
spooky surf spots and giant redwoods
paddling out into the unknown
tiny towns with perfect concrete forms, shredded by grinning locs
front rocks and over vert cradles
stumbling into fellow travelers
fish tacos and 22s
800 miles
the same god-damned song driving us on and on
autumn in the PNW
even when it is less than ideal, it is perfect
the annual purge and cleanse
time to move on
