#Marine Cleaning Gold Coast

[the-bar-sinister]

Deicide (24593 words) by VickytheSnake, thesavagesabretooth Chapters: 7/?

Summary: In the aftermath of the raid on Onigashima everything changes.

Luffy is hearing the voice of a god, and he wants it out of his head.

Kid takes on new crew members, and puts his ego aside to find a cure for his first mate.

Law searches for a new path forward after his long-time goal becomes a memory.

Buggy the Clown struggles to be something more than a figurehead while the rest of Cross Guild plots to change the world.

Smoker and Tashigi find themselves unable to bear the hypocrisy of the Marines and the World Government.

The path to the One Piece is a course that can only be charted by those who agree to join together as friends and fight without taking the easy way out.

catch up here.

-

Buggy was riding high. Honestly, when Cross Guild first came into being he’d been terrified. The other pirates involved were all bigshots— dangerous bigshots who all seemed to find it funny to tease him specifically, and who all hated the idea of going after the One Piece with a passion.

But despite that he was fitting in well minus a few hiccups. Sure, the Cross Guild poster had led to the world government declaring him the ringleader of their group (and he’d been punished accordingly by Crocodile and Mihawk), sure, there was more heat than ever before. But the Bounty System was paying dividends. Towns were turning on the Marines, heads were delivered to them on silver platters and gold passed out in return. Some of the killers, so twisted by what they’d done, had even joined the gang as more pirate underlings to fuel their operation.

And now Moria was going to show up with that Perona girl, adding even more strength to an unprecedented SHOWSTOPPING and FLASHY enterprise!

Only now they were hunting down a target that he couldn’t have expected— that damned meddling Marine from Loguetown and his cadre of Marines. Crocodile had heard the tip and practically dragged him and his crew out the door to follow it. 

And dragged they had been. The voyage was several days out now, and they were approaching their destination, Wano, or just off the coast of it, where Smoker and his crew had apparently been sighted.

Buggy had come up on deck to see the island as they came into view of it on the horizon, and found that Cabaji was there as well, leaning on the railing and cleaning his fingernails with the tip of one of his knives.

“Cabaji!! Cabbage, my number one guy!” He looked quickly over his shoulder to make sure Alvida or Moji wasn’t there before he grinned back at him and clapped his hands together. “...holding up alright?” 

-

Cabaji stared out over the sea toward the tiny dot of land coming ever closer as he absently dug the point of his knife under his nail. Just far enough to clean out the dirt.

It had been a hell of an eventful couple of years and nothing seemed to make that clearer than the unapproachable island that was fast approaching.

The bladesman jolted when he heard his captain's voice, but managed to avoid cutting himself in his surprise as he turned and saluted instead.

"Captain," he greeted, pushing his hair out of his face. "Was just wondering if we're going to get up on the island at all."

Was he holding up alright? Were any of them? Cabaji wondered if his captain was alright, thrust ever higher into further and further echelons of danger. The careless days of harassing small islands and pocketing minor treasures seemed far away.

“We’d better!” the captain snorted as he floated over, his feet running to catch up. “If they dragged us along just to watch I’m gonna give them a piece of my mind as Supreme Leader of Cross Guild!” 

"Yeah, captain, I know ya will." He huffed a chuckle and put the knife away. Cabaji was of course one of the inner circle who knew that Buggy wasn't exactly really in charge. But still. "Make sure to let me help if it comes to it."

“You know it.” Buggy grinned as he leaned against the railing of the ship with a raspy chuckle. “Like hell I’d let my best guys rot away on the ship.” 

Cabaji leaned until he was shoulder to shoulder with him. He pushed his hair out of his face. It was nice to hear, but these days his captain's flattery felt a little hollow. "Yeah? Not gonna lie, Captain– I'm starting to feel a little outclassed these days."

“Outclassed?” Buggy turned his head to face him with a crinkle of his red nose. “...out here in the New World??” 

"I mean, yeah? A little?" He frowned, glancing over at the door that led below deck where he knew Buggy had probably left Sir Crocodile and Hawk-Eyes muttering over strategy. "Surrounded by all these famous warlords and devil fruit users, and haki masters. A guy could start to feel pretty penny ante."

“Not gonna lie to you, Cabaji.” Buggy huffed. “I’ve been feeling out of my depth from the fuckin’ start. There’s a reason I wanted to spend another decade preparing with you guys before we hit the New World. I wanted to bum around paradise for a while until we were ready but..” 

"But we really got thrown in the deep end and told to swim, huh? Uh. No offense." Cabaji ribbed him with his elbow, with the hint of a smile. Teasing the captain a little– as long as it wasn't about the wrong things– was a right he'd earned in the years sailing with him.

Buggy snickered and elbowed him back. “Yeah, we sure did pal. But you know what? We keep fuckin’ swimming. Metaphorically, I mean. We’ll never reach the One Piece if we just sit around thinkin’ about how we’re not good enough compared to the freaks of the New World. We’re freaks too! Even if you don’t got a devil fruit or nothin’.” 

"Thanks, cap. I'm doing my best, you know? I keep wondering if there's some way I can do better to keep up. We've got so many guys now, and I don't want to be just a face in the crowd." He chuckled slightly, still thinking of the old days with fondness. "I'm used to being one of your star performers."

“And you’re gonna stay that way, Cab!” Buggy punched his shoulder with a grin. “hell, if you want an edge— we’ll find one! Seastone! Haki! Hell, I’ll find you a devil fruit that doesn’t suck if ya want. Just stay in my crew.” 

It was a conversation they'd had before Cabaji hadn't made any indication that he was going to leave. But still. Still. He knew Buggy was worried. Maybe rightly worried that at some point Cabaji and the rest were going to feel so far in over their heads there was nothing to do but leave or die.

"I promise, I promise. Maybe though… I mean I'd be tempted," he admitted. Hastily he clarified, "About the edge, I mean, not leaving."

Buggy looped an arm around him and pulled him closer. “You’re a damn fine acrobat, Cab. the best I’ve ever met. You hold your own alright against these bastards…but I get it. We’re talking Emperors and Admirals out here. If you feel like you need an edge, I’ll getcha one. That’s how important you and Moji are to me.” 

Cabaji flushed as the captain pulled him closer. It wasn't like he minded Buggy being close– the opposite, really. If it was just their crew he wouldn't give it a second thought. But he worried if they were caught like that around such bigshots that someone would hold it over their heads.

Or worse, make fun of the captain.

"I know, cap," he mumbled. "That's not the question."

Buggy looked out over the sea, his expression unreadable under the grease paint for a moment before he shook Cabaji’s shoulder with a wide grin. “So what is?” 

"I don't know," he said, leaning on the captain and staring out along with him, back at the spot he'd been focused on before. "I guess I'm worried about letting you down? Making you look bad? It already sucks that the big shots are taking advantage of you. Not a huge fan of the way Mr. Croc thinks he can order your crew around."

“He’s kind of a smug bastard like that, ain’t he?” Cabaji couldn’t miss the way he quickly looked over his shoulder before he said it. “I think he’s just used to giving orders, you know? It don’t make it better, per say….”

He shrugged “we just gotta keep proving them wrong, right? You haven’t let me down yet, Cabaji. I mean it when I say you’re onna my best men. Who else has been with me since the damn start?” 

Cabaji shook his head thinking about it. "Just me and Mohji, cap. Everybody else…"

Everybody else had slowly gone off their own way over the intervening couple of years. For a few of them that own way had even unfortunately been in the ground. But mostly they'd just scattered to the four winds. Now it was the captain and the two of them– and grudgingly he included Alvida and Galdino– and the rabble who'd come to join Buggy's delivery. Now Cross Guild.

“Exactly. Everyone else left. And I can’t blame ‘em, of course…I mean. We’re on to bigger and better things. They couldn’t handle it? Then they left. But you and Mohji. You guys have always stuck by my side no matter how bad it got.” He grinned. “that means somethin’ right?” 

He smiled back, shaking his head.

"Yeah, cap. It sure means something. No doubt about that."

Some days he thought it meant that he was stupid. Or suicidal. But in the end, he was pretty sure he was just that attached to his captain. They had always been the underdogs. The showmen. Buggy's ragtag band of misfits and miscreants. Even after so much had changed, he still wanted to be there. He still wanted to be standing beside his.

He just wanted to be enough.

Buggy chuckled, his paint not quite hiding the dark circles under his eyes as he leaned there squinting at the island ahead with an arm around him. He turned his grin towards Cabaji.

“We’re going to flashily change the world, right? And you’re one of the flashiest guys I know. You want a boost, I’ll force Hawk Eyes to give you some haki lessons. I’ll grab Doflamingo by the fucking lapels and shake a devil fruit out of him. But you haven’t let me down yet.” He laughed. “You’re still kicking ass, all these years later!” 

He grinned bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck. "You're gonna make me blush, cap. Alright, alright, you talked me up. I know you'll cook up something so I can keep up in this New World. Shoulder to shoulder with you, just like this."

With one tacit glance backward, he finally put his arm around the captain in return.

Buggy grinned widely as he squeezed him tightly to his shoulder with a loud laugh, pointing towards the island. 

“Damn right, Cab! Shoulder to fuckin’ shoulder we’re gonna flashilly take the New World…the World GOVERNMENT by storm! Starting with these damn Marines! Captain’s promise!”

"I'll hold you to that, captain," he chuckled. He rested his head against Buggy's. "I'm looking forward to it."

-

Smoker was sitting cross legged on the floor, watching the unconscious ‘X-Drake’ as his chest rose and fell with a pensive frown. 

The navy’s deep cover agent, in place as one of the ‘Worst Generation’ had gotten himself mixed up in the Beast Pirates and the clash at Onigashima. It was good fortune alone that they were able to get in and save him from the flames of the crashing island.

They weren’t even supposed to be here. The world Government didn’t care what happened to Wano, considering. Even with two Emperors joining forces against the rising stars of the pirate world, the whole thing to be ‘a closed, unaffiliated nation’s problem’.

Somehow Smoker was sure they’d be swooping in at the worst time to get their hooks in Wano— or to blow it off the face of the earth if it proved troublesome.

He wanted to dismiss the thought, but he couldn’t, not with the news that Admiral Ryokugyu had arrived on the island. Not with the things he’d heard he’d said about ‘unaffiliated nations’ and what the World Government’s justice allowed him to do to them.

Wano was chaos. It was pirates clashing, islands dropping from the sky, Swords and Devil Fruits going head to head in a single night of absolute warfare unbeknownst to the people as they celebrated….and they almost were unable to enjoy it because a man he was supposed to obey considered them all ‘inferior’.

He leaned his head into his hand, smoke curling up around his face as he muttered. “What a fucking shitshow, Drake.”

Surprisingly, Drake grunted. It wasn't clear whether it was in response to Smoker's statement or not, but it looked like he was finally waking up. He shifted in the bed, and reached up to touch his face.

“Careful there, Dory.” Smoker muttered low under his breath. “you were pretty beaten to shit.” 

"Huh. I lived then?" he murmured, covering his eyes with his arm. "Or is this hell?"

“That unhappy to see me, are ya?” Smoker laughed, slapping his hand on the ground as he took a deep puff of his cigars “Maybe it is hell.” 

"In my defense," Drake grumbled, "technically I can't see you yet. I wouldn't put it past a devil to sound like you, Smoker."

“It’s the cigar habit, I know.” Smoker chuckled low and rumbling before he leaned on his hand. “You’re alive. Barely. We had to fish you out of there. Be glad there were good men without devil fruit powers on board.” 

"I'm thankful. Aching, but thankful. Should I ask what the status is, or will you tell me hearing it should wait until I'm on my feet?"

"Depends. What side of the conflict were you invested in, Drake?” Smoker looked down at him through the haze of smoke. 

Drake shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "Interesting question. I suppose when you put it like that, the outcome doesn't really matter, does it? Not as far as the marines are concerned."

“Kaidou’s been defeated. Straw Hat Luffy…” Smoker crossed his arms. His voice dropped into a growl. “broke out some kind of new ability we’re still trying to assess from our recon and took him out. Big Mom’s been ferried back to Whole Cake by her family. The people of Wano are celebrating a new leader. An admiral had to be fought off by the pirates. They’re still there, the pirates, celebrating and recuperating no doubt.” 

"Sounds… eventful," he said. Smoker watched as Drake started to sit up slowly. He winced, but didn't stop. "I think I saw some of that new ability you were talking about. A bright white fire. You said Kaidou's been defeated…"

“Yep. Him and his whole ‘Beast Kingdom’. Don’t worry. They ain’t dead.” he smirked thinly “they limped away on their capital ship. Thought about giving chase but ..”

He couldn’t kick a man when he was down. It wasn’t justice to kill the wounded. 

"So they got away, then? Sounds like justice is a little thin on the ground today."

Smoker snorted softly. “You can thank Admiral Ryokugyu for that, Drake. If he hadn’t distracted everyone by trying to assault a civilian festival maybe we woulda thought about hunting down Kaidou. But the Beast Pirates are routed. They can link their wounds and we’ll fight ‘em another day if we gotta.” 

"As always." He grimaced and brushed his fingers through his ginger hair. "There's always another battle down the road, isn't there? I think my cover's well and truly fucked– ah, blown– by this point though. Crew's gone."

“We saw,” Smoker shook his head “might be time to come back to the marines, Drake. We got a motley assortment here on the ship as we speak, at least. Me, Chief Petty Officer Tashigi, Rear Admiral Hina. The survivors of G-5.” 

"Impressive crew," he nodded. "I doubt I'm going anywhere else even if I wanted to for now." He gestured at his bandages.

“You ain’t wrong,” Smoker smirked around his cigars “you did good, Drake. I’m…” he trailed off. He wasn’t one to apologize to pirates…even if Drake was undercover, his crew weren’t.

But there was something tragic about a man losing his whole crew in a fell swoop. He could relate. “I’m sorry for what happened to your men.” 

"They knew the risks of the life they chose. They were pirates." There was something hollow in Drake's voice.

“Don’t mean it doesn’t hurt when you lose ‘em.” Smoker murmured. “Hard not to get a little attached to men ya travel with for that long.” 

"There are plenty of people who don't share your view on that," he murmured. "But thank you all the same."

Smoker snorted under his breath. “I’ve been starting to feel like telling ‘em to fuck off if they have a problem with it, lately. But you’re welcome.” 

"Let me know if you'd like someone to co-sign the memo," Drake said. "Not that my signature would count for much."

Smoker took a deep pull from his cigar. “about as much as ours is worth. The brass ain’t happy with the fact we intervened here. “

"Well I guess that, along with our present location on the sea, puts us in the same boat then." Drake laughed and winced as his chest expanded just wrong.

Smoker put his hand on his shoulder. 

“Careful there, there’s a reason I haven’t offered ya a cigar, Drake.” He smiled thinly “looks like, though. Right?” 

Drake leaned into his touch with a wry, pained smile. "I guess—"

"Vice-admiral Smoker!" the voice of one of the ship's ensigns rang from behind the door as he pounded on it.

“Tch.” Smoker looked over his shoulder “This better be good, Ensign!” 

"Sir, it's bad sir!" The ensign saluted as he opened the door. "There's a ship approaching!”

A ship. If it wasn’t from the island he could only imagine it was the Admiral’s— coming back to reprimand them for getting in the way during that damned fucking escapade during the Wano people’s festival.

He grit his teeth. “Whose colors are they flying?” 

"It's Cross Guild, sir! Buggy the clown!"

Smoker nearly chomped his cigar in half as he shot to his feet with a roar. “THE FUCKING CLOWN FROM THE EAST BLUE???”

-

With the lull in the mess on Wano, Hina had pulled Tashigi away from her duties for some 'girl time'.

Girl Time was a staple with Hina. Smoker’s old friend had taken quite the liking to her when they’d met and absolutely insisted on it. But the thing about ‘girl time’ was it was never quite the same. It often involved a bar, karaoke and dancing, and conversations about this and that— from the sharing stories of their adventures, to the effectiveness of various weapons and styles, to Hina snickering about old stories from the past. Once she had even taken Tashigi to a fancy salon and a boutique of ‘beach wear’ to pick out a new outfit.

No matter what they did, it always involved alcohol in some form or another…and this time was no different. Hina had broken out some of Wano’s sake, brewed by a local distiller who she’d rambled ‘used to be a samurai before the whole mess with their leader fella’. Even as she grinned and poured her another cup, her mood was easy to read. She was putting on a brave face and a smile after the disaster in Wano.

Tashigi was having a little more difficulty with her own 'brave face' but the sake did help a bit. It certainly made it so that she could blame any of her clumsiness on it, at any rate.

"I didn't expect it to be so strong," she said, as Hina insistently poured some more into her cup.

Hina laughed as she poured, before tilting more into her cup. 

“given how rarely the people here get to drink? They probably made it as strong as possible to make up for it!” She grinned as she raised the dish-shaped cup Tashigi’s way. “Hina’ll carry you back if you lose your footing, Ta-shi-gi” 

Tashigi laughed and clinked her cup against Hina's. "You had better be willing to stick to that. I feel like after this one I might melt into the floor."

Despite that, she took another drink. She wouldn't want Hina to feel like she was unappreciative. Besides, things were calm at the moment after the days of chaos. Even the brass breathing down their necks and meddling had finally gone away.

It wasn't like getting drunk was going to cause a problem.

Hina leaned on her hand with a grin. “You know…” she tipped a sip back of her sake before she continued “Hina kinda wants to get one of those kimono before we leave this place. Might make for a fun change of wardrobe on special occasions, huh?” 

"Oh! I've seen those," Tashigi nodded broadly, picturing one on Hina. "I think you'd look great in one, we should get you one for certain."

Hina nodded, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “I think I’d look lovely! And if you went with me we could see if anyone’s set up a sword shop now that the people are allowed to own swords again. Maybe we can find something impressive…this is the land those swords of yours hailed from, right?” 

Tashigi felt an almost painful tug on the back of her mind at that, and she chewed on her thumb, the cup wobbling in her hand. "That's true… you don't think all that would be too frivolous for a trip, I mean… it's not like it's easy to get on and off the island…"

“Bah…” Hina waved her hand with a sloshing of her sake “Smokey will approve it if we ask. We can pick up some stuff for the ship while we’re at it. Supplies and junk for the journey to whatever shitshow happens next. Hina’s sure of it.” 

"He always says yes to you," Tashigi chuckled. Her glass sloshed too, and she slumped a little further back in her seat. Admittedly, he'd probably say yes to her too, even if he'd be performatively grumpy about it. Tashigi always felt a little more guilty asking for favors than Hina did though– maybe just because of the difference in hierarchy. 

Hina waved his hand. “He has a soft spot under all that grumpy bastard behavio—-”

The sudden sound of the alarm bell ringing loudly all throughout the ship interrupted her. Hina’s playful expression turned hard as she pushed herself up from the chair and slipped a pair of brass knuckles onto her fists with a grimacing snarl. Shouting, screams and the alarm created a cacophony that Tashigi could barely hear over as Hina looked over at her.

“Tashigi, grab your sword. Something’s going to hell!” 

Tashigi's heart sank into the drunken pit of her stomach as she clambered to her feet as fast as she could without falling over.

[swimwithturtlesgoldcoast]

How the Gold Coast Protects Its Turtle Population: Conservation Insights

The Gold Coast is renowned for its stunning beaches, vibrant marine ecosystems, and the precious wildlife that inhabits its shores. Among its most cherished residents are the turtles. These ancient mariners, vital to the balance of marine ecosystems, have become a central focus for conservation efforts in the region. Protecting turtles on the Gold Coast requires coordinated action, innovative strategies, and the active participation of local communities and authorities.

The Importance of Turtles to Marine Ecosystems

Turtles play an essential role in maintaining the health of marine ecosystems. By grazing on seagrass, they help prevent overgrowth, ensuring habitats remain viable for other marine species. Turtles also contribute to nutrient cycling by transferring nutrients from the ocean to sandy beaches during nesting. Their presence on the Gold Coast is not only an ecological boon but also a reminder of the delicate balance of marine biodiversity.

Turtle Species Found on the Gold Coast

The Gold Coast is home to several turtle species, with loggerhead, green, and leatherback turtles being the most commonly spotted in the area. These species rely on the region’s beaches for nesting, while coastal waters provide a habitat rich in food and shelter.

Loggerhead TurtlesThe loggerhead turtle is particularly significant due to its endangered status. These turtles are known for their robust shells and remarkable migratory patterns. Their nesting sites along the Gold Coast make the region crucial for their survival.

Green TurtlesGreen turtles are herbivorous, feeding mainly on seagrass and algae. They are vital for maintaining seagrass bed health, making their conservation critical to the overall marine ecosystem.

Leatherback TurtlesLeatherback turtles, the largest of all sea turtles, are occasional visitors to the Gold Coast. Their migratory behavior and diet of jellyfish highlight their role in controlling jellyfish populations.

Challenges Faced by Turtles on the Gold Coast

Despite their ecological importance, turtles face numerous threats in the Gold Coast region. These include habitat destruction, pollution, climate change, and human interference. Key challenges include:

Coastal Development: Rapid urbanization and construction along the coast can disrupt nesting sites, making it difficult for turtles to reproduce successfully.

Light Pollution: Artificial lighting near nesting beaches disorients hatchlings, leading them away from the ocean and reducing their chances of survival.

Marine Debris: Plastics and discarded fishing gear pose significant risks, often entangling turtles or being ingested, leading to severe health problems or death.

Climate Change: Rising sea levels and changing temperatures impact nesting habitats and the incubation of turtle eggs, which is temperature-dependent and affects hatchling sex ratios.

Conservation Efforts to Protect Turtles on the Gold Coast

Recognizing the urgency to protect turtles, various conservation initiatives have been implemented on the Gold Coast. These efforts focus on preserving nesting sites, reducing human impact, and raising awareness about the plight of these creatures. Key measures include:

1. Protecting Nesting Sites

Local authorities and conservation groups have established programs to monitor and protect turtle nesting beaches. These initiatives often include installing signage, restricting access to sensitive areas, and deploying barriers to shield nests from predators.

2. Reducing Light Pollution

Efforts to minimize light pollution near nesting areas are vital. Communities are encouraged to adopt turtle-friendly lighting solutions, such as downward-facing lights with low-intensity wavelengths. Public campaigns also educate residents and businesses on the importance of reducing artificial lighting during nesting seasons.

3. Tackling Marine Debris

Clean-up drives along the coastline and waterways play a crucial role in reducing marine debris. Conservation groups collaborate with local volunteers to remove plastics and hazardous materials from turtle habitats.

4. Climate Adaptation Strategies

Conservationists are exploring innovative approaches to counteract the effects of climate change. These include relocating nests to higher ground and creating artificial incubation sites to ensure optimal hatching conditions.

5. Community Education and Involvement

Raising public awareness is a cornerstone of turtle conservation. Schools, community groups, and tourists are educated on the importance of turtles and how small actions—such as proper waste disposal and responsible beach use—can make a big difference.

How You Can Help Protect Turtles on the Gold Coast

Protecting turtles on the Gold Coast is a collective responsibility. Simple actions, such as keeping beaches clean, turning off lights near nesting areas, and reporting injured or stranded turtles to local wildlife rescue teams, can significantly impact their survival.

Residents and visitors alike are encouraged to support conservation programs, participate in clean-up events, and respect local guidelines designed to protect marine life. Every effort, big or small, contributes to ensuring that turtles continue to thrive in this iconic region.

The Future of Turtle Conservation on the Gold Coast

The Gold Coast has become a beacon of hope for turtle conservation through proactive measures and community engagement. By addressing threats and adopting sustainable practices, the region serves as a model for balancing development with ecological preservation.

Protecting turtles on the Gold Coast is not just about saving a species; it is about preserving the interconnected web of marine life that supports our planet. With continued efforts and vigilance, these remarkable creatures can remain a vital part of the Gold Coast's marine heritage for generations to come.

[coolyadventures]

Turtle Paradise: Exploring Gold Coast's Hidden Marine Wonders

Discovering the Treasures of Gold Coast's Coastal Waters

Are you ready to embark on a journey through the crystal-clear waters of the Gold Coast, where majestic sea turtles gracefully glide through the ocean depths? Prepare to be mesmerized as you delve into the enchanting world of Turtles Gold Coast and uncover the hidden marine wonders that await beneath the surface.

The Rich Diversity of Marine Life

As you venture into the azure waters off the coast of the Gold Coast, you'll quickly come to appreciate the rich diversity of marine life that calls this region home. From colorful coral reefs teeming with life to schools of playful fish darting to and fro, every corner of the underwater world is alive with activity. But perhaps the most captivating inhabitants of these waters are the magnificent sea turtles that roam the ocean depths.

Encounter with Majestic Sea Turtles

Prepare to be awestruck as you encounter these gentle giants in their natural habitat. The Gold Coast is renowned for its vibrant population of sea turtles, including the iconic loggerhead, green, and hawksbill varieties. Keep your eyes peeled as you snorkel or dive along the coastline, and you may be fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of these majestic creatures gliding gracefully through the water or basking in the sun on a secluded sandy shore.

Conservation Efforts and Sustainable Tourism

While the allure of encountering Turtles Gold Coast firsthand is undeniable, it's essential to remember the importance of responsible tourism and conservation efforts. As visitors to this pristine marine environment, we have a responsibility to minimize our impact on the delicate ecosystems that support these magnificent creatures. By choosing eco-friendly tour operators, practicing responsible diving and snorkeling techniques, and supporting local conservation initiatives, we can help ensure that future generations will continue to marvel at the beauty of Gold Coast's marine wonders.

Protecting Our Ocean Heritage

In addition to supporting local conservation efforts, there are several simple steps that you can take to help protect our ocean heritage and the magnificent sea turtles that call it home. Reduce your use of single-use plastics, participate in beach clean-up events, and spread awareness about the importance of preserving our marine ecosystems. Together, we can make a difference and ensure that the Gold Coast remains a haven for Turtles Gold Coast and marine enthusiasts alike for generations to come.

Conclusion

As you reflect on your journey through the hidden marine wonders of the Gold Coast, take a moment to appreciate the beauty and diversity of life that thrives beneath the waves. From majestic sea turtles to vibrant coral reefs, this enchanting coastal paradise offers a glimpse into a world teeming with life and wonder. By embracing responsible tourism practices and supporting local conservation efforts, we can all play a role in protecting this precious ecosystem for future generations to enjoy. So pack your snorkel and dive into the adventure of a lifetime as you explore the breathtaking beauty of Turtles Gold Coast.

[coolyecoinau]

What Conservation Organizations are Active in Turtles Gold Coast?

If you're passionate about marine life and particularly concerned about the well-being of turtles along the Gold Coast, you're not alone. The region boasts a rich diversity of marine ecosystems, making it a crucial habitat for various species of turtles. However, with environmental threats looming large, conservation efforts have become imperative. Thankfully, several organizations have taken up the cause to protect and preserve these magnificent creatures in the Turtles Gold Coast area.

The Importance of Turtle Conservation

Before delving into the organizations dedicated to turtle conservation in the Gold Coast region, it's essential to understand why their preservation matters. Turtles play a vital role in marine ecosystems, maintaining the health of coral reefs and seagrass beds. They also serve as indicators of ecosystem health, making them crucial for scientists to monitor changes in the environment. Additionally, turtles contribute to tourism, drawing visitors to the Gold Coast eager for a glimpse of these majestic creatures in their natural habitat.

Turtle Conservation Efforts in Turtles Gold Coast

Several organizations are actively involved in turtle conservation efforts along the Gold Coast. Their initiatives range from research and rehabilitation to public awareness campaigns aimed at fostering a culture of conservation. Here are some prominent organizations making a difference:

1. Gold Coast Turtle Conservation Society

The Gold Coast Turtle Conservation Society is dedicated to the protection and preservation of turtle populations in the region. Through research projects and community outreach programs, the organization strives to raise awareness about the importance of turtle conservation. Their efforts also include habitat restoration projects and collaboration with local authorities to implement protective measures.

2. Marine Conservation Australia

Marine Conservation Australia is committed to safeguarding marine life, including turtles, along the Gold Coast and beyond. They conduct research to better understand turtle behavior and migration patterns, which informs conservation strategies. The organization also runs educational programs for schools and communities, empowering individuals to take action for marine conservation.

3. Coastal Wildlife Rescue

Coastal Wildlife Rescue plays a vital role in rescuing and rehabilitating injured or sick turtles found along the Gold Coast shoreline. Their dedicated team of volunteers provides medical care and rehabilitation services, with the ultimate goal of releasing turtles back into their natural habitat. Additionally, the organization conducts beach clean-up events to mitigate threats to marine life.

4. Sea Turtle Foundation

The Sea Turtle Foundation is a non-profit organization working tirelessly to protect sea turtles and their habitats along the Gold Coast and throughout Australia. They advocate for stronger conservation policies and collaborate with government agencies and local communities to enact meaningful change. The foundation also engages in public outreach initiatives to raise awareness about the plight of sea turtles and the importance of conservation efforts.

Conclusion

In the Turtles Gold Coast region, numerous organizations are dedicated to the conservation of these iconic marine creatures. Their collective efforts encompass research, rehabilitation, public awareness, and advocacy, all aimed at ensuring the long-term survival of turtle populations. By supporting these organizations and actively participating in conservation initiatives, you can contribute to the protection of turtles and the preservation of marine ecosystems for future generations to enjoy.

[xtruss]

Sixty years ago, N.S. Savannah would have sailed beneath the Francis Scott Key Bridge, entrance to Baltimore Harbor, to ports around the globe. Now the world's first nuclear-powered merchant ship floats alongside Pier 13 of the city's Canton Marine Terminal. Photograph By Bill Newcott

This Ship Was Supposed to Usher in an Age of Nuclear-powered Travel

The N.S. Savannah was built to introduce an atomic age of super-clean, hyper-efficient sailing vessels, but ended up a relic in Baltimore Harbor. Why?

— Story and Photographs By Bill Newcott | April 5, 2023

The world had been living under the threat of nuclear war for the better part of a decade when President Dwight D. Eisenhower had an idea: Let’s give atomic power a makeover. Ike came up with Atoms for Peace, a three-pronged effort to rehabilitate our friend the atom as a harmless harbinger of unlimited possibility. Prong one: domestic nuclear energy. Prong two: nuclear medicine. Prong three: nuclear-powered transportation.

Well, two out of three ain’t bad.

One recent morning I was welcomed aboard the only surviving relic of Ike’s third prong: the N.S. Savannah (“N.S.” stands for nuclear ship), the world’s first nuke-powered merchant vessel. Put into service in August 1962, the hybrid freighter/cruise ship plied the world’s oceans for eight years, carrying trend-setting passengers and cargoes ranging from tobacco to cars, proclaiming to the world the dawning age of super-clean, hyper-efficient, nuclear-powered vessels.

Visiting the U.S. West Coast on her maiden voyage—following a transit of the Panama Canal—N.S. Savannah approaches San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge November 18, 1962. Photograph Courtesy Maritime Administration, NARA

In those heady days, some 1.5 million people at ports of call around the planet toured Savannah, pushing up the gangway of the sleek white wonder, visiting its space-age control room, and marveling at its iconic logo: two electrons encircling a porthole standing in for the nucleus of an atom.

Too soon, however, the economics of operating a nuclear-powered commercial ship in an age of cheap fossil fuels caught up with Savannah—as did her relatively small size compared to the new container ships. Now, she floats at Pier 13 of the Canton Marine Terminal in a remote corner of Baltimore Harbor, ironically rendered obsolete by her advanced technology.

Still, a defiant Savannah gleams gloriously white against the blue sky and dark water, her stylized electrons still whirling merrily around their portholes. Over the past few years, cars jammed the dock as more than 80 workers dismantled what was left of the ship’s nuclear power plant. The pieces were wrapped up and transported by train to a deep grave somewhere in Utah, completing the job 52 years after the reactor’s shut-down in 1971 and years ahead of the mandatory 2031 deadline.

Preferred guests would have been invited to the Captain’s Table—flanked by “Fission,” an expansive wall sculpture by French-born sculptor Pierre Bourdelle. Photograph By Bill Newcott

Nicer Than It Had To Be

“Very ‘Jetsons,’ isn’t it?” observed Erhard Koehler, Savannah’s senior technical advisor and the U.S. Maritime Administration official in charge of the ship. We were standing in Savannah’s lobby, virtually unchanged since launch—a low-ceilinged rectangle bisected by a long, burnt-orange Naugahyde couch. In gold print on the Linoleum reception desk were the words: “The Savannah is a Joint Project of the Maritime Administration and the Atomic Energy Commission.”

Some parts of the ship, like this lobby, appear to have arrived in the 21st century via a time vortex. The plush passenger dining room—with its miraculously intact original carpeting, atom-themed light fixtures, and a captain’s table framed by a vast, curved wall sculpture called “Fission”—seems ready to welcome spiffed-up passengers any second.

Original place settings, emblazoned with the ship’s atom-inspired logo, are preserved in a dining room display case.

On the upper deck, in the broad-windowed, brightly polished Veranda cocktail lounge, the bar is still dominated by its original, striking metallic blue, red, and yellow wine rack. Dramatically backlit, the rack was designed as an inside joke for nuclear science buffs who would have recognized it as representing the Trilinear Chart of Nuclides. Koehler and company have even found an original drink menu (“Atomic Cocktail: $1”).

“We’ve tried to preserve as much of the original look as possible in the public areas,” said Koehler. Considering the wild abandon with which substances like asbestos and PCBs were used in those days, he adds, “It’s not always easy.”

Other sections, like the former passenger cabins, are in decidedly rougher shape, victims of water leaks and rot. Still, it’s clear that Savannah was built nicer than it had to be, with touches one would never have found on a mid-century freighter. That’s because, from its inception, Savannah was meant to be much more than a nuclear-powered workhorse.

Floating behind the ship's cocktail bar, a multicolored wine bottle rack cleverly mimics the trilinear table of the nuclides, depicting isotopes of the elements.

“The passenger cabins were placed right next to the reactor,” said Koehler as we headed down a stairway to the ship’s holds. Savannah could take 60 passengers—and some of them, I was surprised to learn, slept within 50 feet of a sustained nuclear reaction.

“It was all on purpose,” Koehler said. “Eisenhower wanted everyone to see how safe nuclear power could be.”

Throughout its near-decade as a working merchant ship—then during decades of mothballing, interrupted by a stint as a floating museum near Charleston, South Carolina—Savannah has remained under the ownership of the Maritime Administration. The agency oversaw maintenance of the ship while the Nuclear Regulatory Commission dismantled and disposed of Savannah’s nuclear power plant.

During the final days of the disassembly, Koehler offered to let me see how it was going. We climbed a series of stairways to a chamber at the top of the ship's nuclear reactor. A small window had been cut into plastic sheeting draped atop the wide steel silo that contained the reactor’s innards, some 30 feet below.

Peering through, I looked directly down into the core, where 32 pillars of uranium once generated enough radioactive heat to bring circulating water to about 570 degrees Fahrenheit, creating steam to power the ship’s engine. Instinctively, I glanced at the two radiation gauges clipped to my shirt. Of course, there was nothing to worry about. Still, even with the ship’s nuclear fuel long gone, the team took the hazards of radiation seriously: That morning I had to sit through a 30-minute safety training session just to be permitted this far.

I recalled what Koehler had told me as we walked past an ancient Radar Range microwave oven in Savannah’s kitchen—a model that was so cavalier about the effects of microwaves that it could cook a hamburger with the door open.

“You’d get more radiation in the kitchen than you would standing near the reactor,” he chuckled.

Because of the flurry of workers below, I couldn’t visit the nuclear control room where three engineers monitored Savannah’s nuclear power plant 24/7. A large photo of the control panel sprawled along a passageway wall, showing a seemingly endless array of analog dials, gauges, and switches. Built just before the dawn of digital miniaturization, the whole thing was run with an army of vacuum tubes hidden behind those panels.

That thought delights Bob Adams, president of the N.S. Savannah Association, a nonprofit group of ship enthusiasts whose mission it is to tell the story of Savannah and assist in its preservation.

Adams, a self-described “tube head,” showed me around Savannah’s radio room. On one array, positioned above a seven-inch TV monitor, some 40 tubes bristled at attention.

“The tubes aren’t hard to get,” said Adams, fiddling with the ship’s vintage audio entertainment system. He was playing a CD of steel band music over the speakers, but his ultimate goal was to fire up Savannah’s old reel-to-reel tape player.

“That cabinet over there’s got the ship’s original reels of tape in it,” he said, like a kid anticipating Christmas.

On one wall of the cramped room, taped into place by some long-forgotten radioman, were yellowed sheets bearing broadcast frequencies for ports of call around the world: Portugal, Hong Kong, Okinawa. One of the complications faced by Savannah during her sailing years was the need for special clearances at each destination.

“Whatever the U.S. domestic regulations were for a nuclear power plant, you had to have reciprocity wherever you went around the world,” said Koehler. “A whole administrative structure had to be developed.”

In all, Savannah visited 45 foreign and 32 domestic ports. Only Australia, New Zealand, and Japan refused her entry.

A Future That Never Happened

National Geographic magazine ran a lengthy article about Savannah’s launch in August 1962. “If Savannah works,” writer Alan Viliers noted, “merchant shipping can be revolutionized.”

Savannah operated nearly flawlessly; it was the economics that didn’t work. By 1971, Savannah’s operating costs were outpacing income by $2 million a year. With just a handful of nuclear-powered merchant ships on the high seas, it was becoming clear the world’s shipping companies would prefer pouring tons of oil into their vessels to managing floating nuclear plants—even if those plants could propel their ships 300,000 miles on one load of nuclear fuel.

If the operators had held out for just two more years—when the price of fuel oil went from $20 a ton to $80—the story of nuclear-powered merchant ships might have been very different.

Savannah was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1982, but that by no means ensures her future. With the removal of her nuclear apparatus, by law the Marine Administration has three options: find someone willing to take Savannah, sell her for scrap, or scuttle her as an artificial reef.

Environmental concerns almost certainly rule out the last option, but Koehler hopes the ship will survive as a museum for generations to come.

“I think we’ll find somebody,” he said. “We’ve taken good care of her; it’s pretty much plug-and-play for anyone who wants to operate her as a museum.”

We took one last pass through the Veranda lounge. Outside the curving front windows, Savannah’s bell hung above the boarded-over swimming pool. In a display case donated by the Smithsonian Institution, relics of Savannah’s passenger-hauling heyday are on display, including a Bingo ball cage and a pair of wooden horses from an old Steeplechase deck game.

But my attention was drawn back to that magnificent metallic wine rack behind the bar. Koehler had turned on its lights, and it shone with an almost iridescent splendor, radiating optimism for a future that never happened.

It was sad—and at the same time subversively triumphant. I was reminded of the first steam-powered ship to sail across the Atlantic. In 1819 that commercial venture failed, and steam power seemed like a folly.

— The Ship’s Name: Savannah.

[writer-in-theory]

bleachers & diner booths — harringrove.

whumptober no. 4 — dead on your feet

summary: steve notices the signs in billy, and wonders how no one’s ever noticed before. prompt: hidden injury pairing: steve harrington/billy hargrove category: hurt/comfort content warnings: language, discussions of injuries, mentions of abuse word count: 2.9k

Before the disappearance of Will Byers, nothing of note ever happened in Hawkins. Pool floors never opened up to swallow a classmate whole, Steve Harrington never had his heart broken by a girl everyone was surprised he’d asked out anyway, and guys from California with an attitude to fill the whole state never moved in. 

But Steve had long since forgotten what the status quo felt like anymore—could barely comprehend waking up for the day not immediately on edge much less worrying about such problems like no longer being the coolest guy in school. It had been a harsh reality the day after the Halloween party, coming to school to see everyone laughing at him rather than at whatever lame jokes he made at the expense of others. Tina had overheard Nancy berating him, apparently, and within hours the entire school knew of King Steve’s fall at the hands of, well, a nerd. It stung, at first, to think that everything he’d spent seventeen years building had crumbled within one night only to be replaced by a guy no one knew before this year, but then he remembered the look on the Holland couple’s faces when they talked about how they never knew what happened to Barb, and how Steve still could hardly look at his backyard pool without wanting to curl into himself and wither away. He remembered Dustin Henderson’s face when Steve showed up at the house to do his hair, and he remembered the feeling of knowing he would die down in those tunnels, reduced down to nothing but a ghost like Barbara Holland.

And well, after nearly dying not once but twice at the hands of beings not of this world, losing a title in a high school he was nearly finished at anyway didn’t seem like quite a big deal anymore.

So he stayed out of Billy Hargrove’s way, stopped trying to fight against him at every turn. He stopped being entertaining to the guy, hoping that would allow himself to coast his way through the last semester of his high school career. 

Steve wasn’t sure if it was because of the cold shoulder or because of the needle Billy’d gotten to the neck months before, but the Californian stopped bugging him. It was like the guy forgot Steve even existed, which should have been relieving but only made Steve watch him closer, like he was waiting for a stray fist to clock him when he was least expecting it. 

Instead of catching a fist, Steve began to actually notice Billy beyond their past fight for a title. Because Steve may not be great at school, but he knew how to read people. He wouldn’t have made it as Robert Harrington’s son for so long if he couldn’t catch onto microexpressions and miniscule changes in body language. He couldn’t have survived as the top dog of Hawkins High if he couldn’t tell someone was spreading rumors about him by just a change in their tone when they spoke to him next. And suddenly having once been King Steve became useful, because not only did he notice Billy but he noticed the things that Billy clearly wanted kept hidden away.

Steve noticed that Billy never started fights. The guy always bore the marks of one—bruises on cheekbones and the occasional split lip, but his fists had stayed clean since that night in November. He noticed that Billy would sleep in class and the teachers never called him out in the way they always jumped on Steve for it, how in fact most teachers seemed to let Billy do whatever he wanted. Even Mr. Carter would, and the retired Marine had never taken shit from any student before, no matter how intimidating. Steve even noticed that Billy never quite looked other guys in the eyes, always glancing down at their noses as though he were scared to. He noticed that Billy got one of those gold honor roll slips that Nancy would keep pressed in a clean manila folder, and the one day Steve tried to avoid the crowded cafeteria he caught Billy sitting outside by the bleachers fucking reading. And not just reading, but he held what looked to be a well-loved book with the word Tolkein written along the spine, a book Steve had seen sitting on Dustin’s desk too. As he watched closer, he noticed the days that were different, too, the days that Billy would sit down gingerly with stiff shoulders, barely fucking breathing at all like even the act of shifting his lungs was painful. He wondered how no one else had noticed it before, how no one else had accumulated the puzzle pieces that Steve held between his fingers.

With every new piece of information Steve gathered, he realized the image he’d been made to believe was Billy Hargrove was nothing more than a fake, a cover meant to hide away the things Billy didn’t want people like Steve to see. 

Steve didn’t know what to do with any of it. He thought about talking to Billy, thought about apologizing for his hand in that night after Joyce mentioned how suspicious it might have seemed that Max was alone with so many guys at night, he even thought about picking a fight just to get his attention. But none of it felt right, and anytime he got close enough to speak those blue eyes would turn on him and Steve’s throat would close up like none of the words he had left were acceptable. 

So he didn’t say anything. He let Billy read alone on the bleachers despite the icy sheen to the metal seats, and he let Billy get away with getting away with everything, and he even let the bruises and limps of mysterious origin continue to accumulate—because nothing of note ever happened in Hawkins, not if it wasn’t Upside Down related. 

Sure, Steve had heard of parents who were violent with their children. He’d heard of it in the same way his dad had once made him cry for nearly getting held back one year, in the way that people around here would say that’s just how things are, sometimes. But he’d never thought he’d see something like this.

This, being Billy Hargrove slumped over those frigid bleachers not holding a book but rather sitting with his arms curled tight around his middle. 

Steve wasn’t sure why he’d shown up at the school so late at night. Maybe it was because being alone in such a large house was too lonely at night, or maybe it was because his usual nightly patrol routes along the edge of the woods were starting to become monotonous. Maybe it was because Steve knew how fucked up his head was after everything he’d seen, and if maybe he could spend one night without carrying around a bat of nails maybe there was hope he could recover. Maybe it was because he’d hoped to sit on those bleachers with a book he borrowed but never intended to read if only to get closer to the guy he longed to understand.

But then there he was, already taking up that same spot with none of the usual confidence. Billy’s shoulders were turned inward, curled around the hands he pressed tightly into his sides. That wasn’t what clued Steve into the fact that something was wrong, though. No, it was rather the fact that Steve was close to him on the bleachers, standing in the narrow aisleway after not being particularly quiet on the metal steps, and Billy hadn’t looked up even once. The guy was usually high-strung, keeping his eyes focused intently on Steve when he entered the same room like he didn’t fully trust Steve not to lash out at him at any second.

“Stare any longer and I’ll start chargin’ by the minute, Harrington,” Billy spoke up, voice rough from either yelling or maybe from some other injury Steve couldn’t see under the moonlight. He remembered the time Tommy had accidentally launched a baseball into his throat when they were practicing, leaving him barely able to speak for a straight week. Billy sounded a little like that now, he thinks.

“You look like shit, Hargrove,” Steve returned before thinking about it because, well, he did. The full moon was the only reason Steve hadn’t tripped on his walk up here, and now it illuminated every feature of Billy’s that got drowned out by California tan in the sunlight. Dark circles under his eyes stuck out harshly in this light, along with the smattering of little white lines indented into skin. It seemed obvious in this light, everything that Steve was sure never could have happened in a place like Hawkins. 

He thought to Mr. Hargrove then, who didn’t seem to fit the image that Steve knew of those kinds of men. They always talked about rude guys, men who drank and cursed and couldn’t help but to take out their anger at the world on their children. Never once had anyone warned him of polite men who charmed even Steve’s mom, who helped carry groceries for the older ladies and who always thanked the police officers when he saw them around town. The entirety of Hawkins had been immediately charmed by Neil Hargrove, which had made it all the more tragic when they then had to learn of Billy—the rude, rebellious, angry son who lashed out at a good parent for no reason.

It made Steve’s fists curl tightly now, seeing just how easily they’d been tricked. Because even now Billy’s knuckles were clean despite the clear pain in his abdomen and the fresh split in his temple Steve knew would become another one of those faint little lines. 

“Real charmer, you are,” Billy huffed, the exhalation clearly aggravating something by the sharp hiss he let out. “Would you at least close your mouth then? Don’t need you drooling over me too.”

“You’re such an ass.” This was supposed to go better. There were so many words Steve had thought of before, ways to befriend Billy Hargrove without pressing on that deep-set anger in him yet still Steve found himself getting frustrated. 

Maybe it was easier to be frustrated by the attitude than to think about the dark bruises that stuck out against Billy’s moonlit face.

And God did Steve never understand Billy’s temperament more than he did in that startling realization.

“You’re hurt,” Steve pointed out, finally moving from where he was standing in the aisle. He moved, slowly at first as though Billy might be frightened off before remembering that the change in behavior might make the situation worse. He moved to the bleacher in front of Billy, swinging around so his feet were in between Billy’s, hands lifted awkwardly in the air until finally settling them to his own lap.

“You should see the other guy,” Billy told him, trying for a trademark Cheshire grin but the split in his lower lip inhibited the motion considerably.

“I know, Billy,” Steve tried, sucking in his breath and trying to force out all of the confidence he’d saved up over the weeks for this moment. “I know what’s happening to you.”

Steve watched as Billy’s expression turned into a snarl, blue eyes widening only a fraction before they squinted in a scowl. “You don’t know shit, Harrington.”

“I know that wasn’t a fight, not a two-sided one anyway.” Steve gestured with one hand weakly at the spot Billy was still clutching tightly. “I know you want everyone to think it was a fight, maybe to help your reputation or whatever. Or maybe you just think no one would believe you.”

“Watch it, pretty boy, or your pretty little face’ll hurt for it.”

“Go ahead man, if you think it would help,” Steve shrugged, “I’ve had so many concussions in the past year I think I could take one more.”

“You’re a sick fuck, Harrington, asking to get the shit beat outta you,” Billy tried again, though some of that anger was already beginning to leak out and away. 

“Look with those busted-up ribs of yours, I don’t think any beating you try to give me would be all that great.”

“My ribs are fine.”

“Your fingers grip your shirt tighter when you breathe in. I’ve had broken ribs before, man, it felt like my lungs were full of glass for weeks,” Steve explained, “I have some bandages in my trunk, you really should wrap them up.”

“Why the fuck do you have bandages in your trunk?”

For when the Upside Down inevitably opens up again. For when another friend gets hurt on his watch and for when he gets stuck trying to make sure five kids didn’t get killed. For when he feels a little useless on the team, unable to contribute to theories and plans but definitely able to fight and protect.

“For emergencies.”

“I don’t need your pity just ‘cause you think you know somethin’.”

“Sure,” Steve answered simply, fighting the urge to look away from the guy who confused him so much. He didn’t want to see the guy who beat him so badly Joyce took him to the hospital to get checked over on the verge of tears, he didn’t want to see the guy who threatened Lucas trying to hide injuries that someone who was supposed to love him bestowed upon him. He didn’t want to see it, but he also knew there was no working out whatever fucking problem they had with each other if he refused to see it, so Steve looked. He stared at the scars and he stared at the shine in Billy’s eyes and he forced himself to notice, because he was sure no one else had even tried to notice before. 

“Yeah, sure, man. No pity here,” Steve reiterated, hoping keeping as calm as possible was the right move. He wanted to do right by this guy, by this person that clearly no one else had even bothered to consider as anything more than just a lost cause before now. “You wanna grab a bite? There’s a diner off of Oak that’s open 24 hours.”

“You—what?” Steve couldn’t help but smile a little at finally catching Billy Hargrove off-guard. He watched as shock and confusion took over Billy’s expression, as he actually tilted his head to the side a little to consider Steve. “You want...to get food?”

“Why not? I mean, we could sit here freezing our asses off on these bleachers while you dodge all the questions you’re not ready for, or we could go sit in a warm diner with some decent burgers instead.”

Billy just stared at him. It was almost uncomfortable, going from dodged glances to such a piercing stare like he was trying to see down to the worst of Steve’s intentions. He probably was, because why else would Steve invite him out if it wasn’t some kind of trick?

“No games, man. It’s just a burger and maybe a truce.”

“A truce. You waving the white flag already?”

“I don’t remember ever starting the fight in the first place,” Steve countered, though hoped the smile let Billy know he wasn’t actually angry. “But hey, we’re a couple months from graduating and I’m over the bullshit. I think you could use a better friend than Hagan and I need to have some friends my age before I lose my shit.”

Billy nodded along slowly, considering. His teeth worked at the split in his lip so intensely that Steve feared it would break open and bleed again, and didn’t say anything for so long Steve nearly stood and left before Billy actually considered throwing a punch. The chill had frozen over the skin on his face so badly that he knew just how terribly a punch from Hargrove would sting right now. 

But a punch never came, and neither did that anger that Steve was used to receiving. Instead, Billy shrugged, wincing against the jolt in his ribs, and stood. “Sure, pretty boy, we can grab some burgers but you’re buying.”

“You gonna let me wrap those ribs?” Steve tried as they walked down the bleachers together, laughing at the indignant look that spread over Billy’s face.

“Don’t push it, Harrington.”

Billy still allowed him to press the bandages into his hands, though, and even laughed when Steve admitted that he had no idea how to help him anyway. And though Steve didn’t get the chance to confront Billy about everything he’d noticed, he still thought tonight was a win. Because somehow, Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove ended up pressed into a diner booth together, laughing over french fries and stories of past trouble. Other people watched with terror and unease, knowing the two boys had fought more times than any other set of teenagers in town, but all Steve could do was smile brightly at the guy across from him, the guy he was sure he hadn’t actually gotten to meet until that night.

And Steve saw hope, that maybe, someday, he and Billy Hargrove could understand each other in a way no one else in Hawkins could even begin to.

[mio-parasite]

❤️ Monsters in Latin America ❤️

Hello very good dear community of monsters lovers how are you? I hope you do well and if not I hope that your day will improve so that everything goes well.

I want to introduce you to some (not all as there are too many) lovely monsters of Latin America, I want to spread a little about my own culture and expand the repertoire of monsters to love, care for... Etc, I hope you like this bit Latin American story any questions you have about these creatures can contact me.

And I want to apologize if my English is very bad

Well without further ado, I introduce you to these lovely monsters from Latin America.

El Athrathrao o Basilisco

It is born in a henhouse, from a small round egg of coarse and rough cascara, of grayish white color, called lloilloy egg or lloe egg, which according to legend is believed to be laid and incubated by a rooster. If this egg is not removed, within a few weeks it will become a basilisco.

In the daytime, the basilisk chilote hides under the house of the owner of the henhouse, and at night he would come out of his hiding place while all the people sleep. At that time he would emit a hypnotic chant similar to cockcrow, which would cause people to stay asleep. After singing, he would go into the rooms to be able to feed himself, absorbing the breath and sucking the saliva of those who sleep. The affected person would lose the desire to eat, so he or she would get thinner and thinner, and his or her face would become pale. With the passage of time, a strong and persistent cough would appear and his breathing becomes more and more difficult, and finally he dies. The same thing happens with every one of the inhabitants of the house.

La Pincoya

She is a mermaid of extraordinary beauty (with a slightly tanned white complexion and blond hair), whose job is to protect the sea, sow it and rescue the castaways.

When the pincoya dances facing the ocean, it is warning that there will be an abundance of fish and shellfish. And when you do it looking toward the coast, there will be shortages.

To be favored by it, one must be content; That is why the fishermen are accompanied by happy friends.

It is also said that if you fish or shellfish a lot in one place, the pincoya gets angry and leaves that area, which then becomes sterile. The pincoya is sometimes accompanied by her husband, the pincoya.

The mermaid lived in a huge cave and used to swim in the lagoon and the puchanquin river. From the rocks, with a whistle, he made emerge from the bottom of the waters a solid trunk of gold, which he climbed to comb his golden hair. Sometimes, during the night, he would sing haunted love songs, which no one could resist.

In addition, many people sought the woman for favors, until she disappeared from the place. It is believed that it was called cuada from the huelde lagoon to bring prosperity and abundance to distant beaches.

Since then, the waters took on the dark color they have today, and although many have tried to imitate the siren's whistle, the golden trunk is still submerged waiting for its owner.

El Muqui / Muki

The muki, or anchancho, is a goblin in the mythology of the central andes in Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, and Colombia; Which is characterized by being a miner and, as such, its existence is limited to the underground space: the muqui lives inside the mine.

Its name comes from the quechua "murik" (" he who asphyxiates "). However, 'muki' also means' humidity ', so it is said to also appear in places where there is water. From puno to cajamarca, passing through pasco and Arequipa, the descriptions of this creature are always the same: it is of small stature, does not exceed half a meter. Their favorite victims are unbaptized children, whom they hide in FIG and banana trees to make one of them.

Piuchén

Piwicheñ is a Mapuche voice that means "to dry people", this mythological creature is better known as Pihuchén, Piuchén or Piguchen.

It generally has the appearance of a flying snake, emitting high-pitched whistles. But also its changing appearance has something of a human, snake, bird, fish, quadruped, frog and bat. It is usually covered with grass, bushes and twisted cylinders, like hooked horns. It produces a substance so irritating that when it is transmitted through the air or water, it causes skin eruptions very similar to scabies.

It has incredible longevity, its wings grow when it has reached its mature age, in old age it transforms into a bird the size of a rooster or a young turkey, equally bloodthirsty. It has such a powerful force that it can topple large trees and raise gigantic waves that wreck ships.

He is used to living in lakes and rivers, where his presence causes panic, those who have the misfortune to contemplate him will soon die. At other times, he petrifies his victims with his intense gaze, and then sucks their blood.

Trentren Vilu y Caicai Vilu

Trentren vilu (terrestrial snake) and caicai vilu (sea snake) are two colossal and powerful snakes that have the ability to cause earthquakes and volcanic eruptions (trentren) and tsunamis and floods (caicai).

Legend has it that one day caicai awoke from his sleep and, seeing how ungrateful men were to the sea that gave them so much resources, unleashed his fury and used his tail to cause tsunamis and flood the earth as punishment. Trentrain, however, came to the aid of the terrestrial creatures and saved those he could on his back to put in the hills, those he could not save he turned into birds, fish and Marine mammals and drowned in sumpall. Caicai, for his part, did not stop and raised the waters even higher, to which he responded by raising the hills even higher.

Seeing this challenge, caicai attacked trentrum, thus beginning a Titanic battle that lasted for a long time until they finally ran out of strength.

By the end of the battle, the geography had changed, resulting in the numerous islands and canals of southern Chile.

Exhausted and defeated, caicai returned to sleep, leaving millalobo as ruler of the seas. For his part, trentrum also went to sleep.

However, with the passage of time, the men became ungrateful again, also causing the displeasure of trentin, who from time to time moves in his sleep causing earthquakes and eruptions, while caicai by moving his tail causes tsunamis.

Yaguareté-Abá

Tiger man or leopard-man, this being is a character known in northeastern Argentina and the great chaco, this arises from the great adoration of a sorcerer towards these animals and is based on the metamorphosis from human to beast, or the reverse.

The transformation of the sorcerer begins with the use of a jaguar leather and a sauma with hen's feathers. And that because of these they were given the power to shed their skins and transform into a creature half jaguar and half human. Later, they go hunting and after eating their prey they return to their human form performing the same procedure.

He is extremely aggressive and only eats human flesh, from mule or cow, he liked to loot ranches and he liked to force young women to clean it. The only way to escape from his escape is to manage to remove his hide and spit in his face because they are blind and vulnerable to attack, after death they return to their human form. This must be accompanied by bullets or machetes that are blessed but this is not all - you must behead him after killing him to make sure he does not come back to life.

La Fiura

She has the appearance of a disgusting woman, with large breasts and tiny stature (40 to 50 cm) and long black hair. Her face has hideous features, with sparkling eyes that are almost hidden behind her huge nose. Her limbs are thin and hooked, and she has the ability to lengthen and twist them in all directions by nervously moving the misshapen fingers of her huge hands. She wears red clothes, and uses to adopt strange postures and hideous grimaces with her face.

It is said that he wanders in the woods and sneaks through the bushes, in search of the fruit of the thorny chauras, which he eats gluttonously; and people can tell that the Fiura has passed through a place by observing the depositions it leaves on the protruding roots of large trees. It is also said that taking great care, it can be observed when she carefully combs her hair with a highly polished crystal or silver comb that shines in the sun's rays, while bathing in small lakes. After bathing, she sits on the moss, and remains naked for hours or goes to dance on the scraps. It is characterized by possessing superhuman strength and by the ability to make use of the stench of its breath to twist or break the limbs of animals or people who observe it; her power being such that she can have her effects at a distance.

Millalobo

The millalobo (golden Wolf) is a creature resembling a newt, with the upper part of a man and the lower part of a sea Wolf. The millalobo was born from the union between a woman and a sea Wolf which saved her from drowning during the mythical battle between trentrain vilu and caicai vilu.

Millalobo is the most powerful being of the seas after caicai, who chose him to rule the seas on his behalf.

According to chilota legend it is said that upon seeing him, caicai decided that he was a creature of his liking and chose him to delegate his power and rest after his battle with trentrain.

Millalobo lives on the seabed and rules with his family, his wife huenchula and their three children; The pincoya, the pincoy, and the mermaid chilota. Various mythological sea creatures are under his command and help him in his tasks, which range from planting and caring for the development of shellfish and fish, to managing the Marine climate; In addition to guiding and caring for the dead produced by the sea.

Millalobo is said to be the creator of the caleuche and the evil creatures of the seas also pay him respect.

[swimwithturtlesgoldcoast]

Top Activities Involving Turtles on the Gold Coast

The Gold Coast is renowned for its stunning beaches, vibrant marine life, and unique eco-tourism opportunities. Among the most fascinating creatures to encounter are turtles, which play a crucial role in the region's marine ecosystems. Whether you're a nature enthusiast or a traveler seeking unforgettable experiences, there are plenty of activities involving turtles on the Gold Coast to explore.

Discover Sea Turtles at Local Beaches

The Gold Coast is home to various species of sea turtles, including loggerheads, green turtles, and hawksbills. Nesting season typically occurs from November to March, making it an ideal time to witness these majestic creatures in their natural habitat. Some key beaches where turtles are known to nest include:

Burleigh Heads Beach: Known for its pristine sands and serene environment, this beach offers opportunities to spot turtles coming ashore during nesting season.

Coolangatta Beach: A quieter spot ideal for observing marine life while enjoying the scenic beauty of the coastline.

When visiting these areas, it's essential to respect local conservation efforts and guidelines to ensure minimal disturbance to the turtles and their nests.

Snorkeling and Diving Adventures

One of the most thrilling ways to interact with turtles on the Gold Coast is through snorkeling or diving. The region boasts several marine hotspots where turtles can often be seen gliding gracefully through the water. Popular locations include:

Cook Island Aquatic Reserve: Situated just off the coast, this reserve is a haven for marine biodiversity. It's common to encounter green turtles and other fascinating sea creatures while exploring the underwater world here.

Wave Break Island: A favorite spot for beginners and experienced snorkelers alike, this site offers calm waters and frequent sightings of turtles.

These adventures provide a unique opportunity to observe turtles up close while also appreciating the vibrant coral reefs and diverse marine life.

Eco-Tours and Turtle Watching

Eco-tours focused on marine life conservation are among the top activities involving turtles on the Gold Coast. These guided experiences offer insights into the lives of turtles and the efforts to protect them. Some highlights of these tours include:

Educational sessions about the local marine ecosystem.

Opportunities to spot turtles in their natural habitat.

Participation in conservation activities such as beach clean-ups.

By joining eco-tours, visitors contribute to the preservation of the region's delicate marine environment while gaining a deeper understanding of the challenges turtles face.

Marine Conservation Programs

The Gold Coast is a hub for marine conservation initiatives aimed at protecting turtle populations. Visitors can participate in programs that focus on:

Turtle Nest Monitoring: Volunteers help track and protect nesting sites to ensure the survival of turtle hatchlings.

Rescue and Rehabilitation: Local organizations often welcome assistance in caring for injured or stranded turtles.

Engaging in these activities allows participants to make a tangible difference while learning about the vital role turtles play in maintaining marine ecosystems.

Kayaking and Stand-Up Paddleboarding

For a more relaxed experience, kayaking and stand-up paddleboarding along the Gold Coast waterways offer an excellent chance to spot turtles. Areas such as the Tallebudgera Creek and Currumbin Creek are known for their calm waters and thriving turtle populations. These activities provide a peaceful way to enjoy the region's natural beauty while observing turtles in a non-intrusive manner.

Best Practices for Turtle Encounters

When engaging in activities involving turtles on the Gold Coast, it's crucial to prioritize their well-being. Follow these guidelines to ensure a positive and respectful experience:

Maintain a safe distance from turtles, both on land and in the water.

Avoid touching or feeding turtles, as this can disrupt their natural behaviors.

Adhere to local conservation laws and respect restricted areas during nesting season.

Conclusion

The Gold Coast offers a wealth of activities for those interested in connecting with turtles and supporting marine conservation efforts. From snorkeling adventures to eco-tours and volunteer programs, there are countless ways to appreciate these incredible creatures. By participating responsibly, visitors can contribute to the protection of turtles while creating unforgettable memories on the Gold Coast.

[coolyadventures]

Nature's Treasures: Turtles Bring Joy to Gold Coast's Aquatic Realm

The shimmering waters of Gold Coast harbor a plethora of natural wonders, but few are as captivating and endearing as the graceful Turtles Gold Coast. These majestic creatures not only add charm to the aquatic landscape but also play a crucial role in maintaining the ecological balance of the region. Dive into the world of these fascinating reptiles and discover the treasures they bring to the vibrant ecosystem of Gold Coast.

The Enchanting Residents

Picture yourself strolling along the pristine beaches of Gold Coast, and suddenly, you catch a glimpse of a gentle turtle gracefully gliding through the azure waters. These enchanting residents of the coastal waters captivate onlookers with their serene demeanor and timeless beauty. From the magnificent Green Turtles to the elusive Loggerheads, Gold Coast is home to a diverse array of turtle species, each with its own unique charm.

Guardians of the Ecosystem

Beyond their aesthetic appeal, Turtles Gold Coast serve as vital guardians of the marine ecosystem. As herbivores, Green Turtles play a crucial role in maintaining the health of seagrass beds, which serve as essential habitats for numerous marine species. Loggerhead Turtles, on the other hand, help regulate jellyfish populations, thus preventing potential imbalances in the food chain. By preserving these turtle populations, we ensure the stability and resilience of Gold Coast's marine environment.

Challenges and Conservation Efforts

Despite their importance, Turtles Gold Coast face a myriad of threats, including habitat loss, pollution, and accidental capture in fishing gear. However, dedicated conservation efforts aim to mitigate these challenges and secure a brighter future for these magnificent creatures. Through initiatives such as beach clean-ups, nesting site protection, and public awareness campaigns, local organizations and authorities are working tirelessly to safeguard the welfare of Gold Coast's turtle populations.

Ecotourism and Education

The presence of Turtles Gold Coast not only enriches the natural beauty of the region but also presents unique opportunities for ecotourism and environmental education. Visitors flock to Gold Coast to witness these majestic creatures in their natural habitat, fostering a deeper appreciation for marine conservation efforts. Educational programs and guided tours provide invaluable insights into the lives and behaviors of turtles, inspiring future generations to become stewards of the ocean.

Your Role in Conservation

As a visitor or resident of Gold Coast, you too can play a vital role in the conservation of Turtles Gold Coast. Simple actions, such as reducing single-use plastics, participating in beach clean-ups, and supporting responsible ecotourism operators, can collectively make a significant difference in protecting these precious marine creatures. By embracing sustainable practices and advocating for turtle conservation, you become an integral part of efforts to preserve the natural treasures of Gold Coast for generations to come.

Conclusion

In the vibrant tapestry of Gold Coast's aquatic realm, Turtles Gold Coast stand out as true nature's treasures. Their grace, beauty, and ecological significance underscore the importance of protecting and preserving the marine environment. By championing conservation efforts and embracing sustainable practices, we can ensure that these enchanting creatures continue to bring joy and wonder to Gold Coast's shores for years to come.

[addictedtostorytelling]

So how do you think The Grissoms celebrated Sara’s 50th birthday? :)

hi, anon!

may i interest you in some short fic-ish?

__

assuming they're still living the "margaritaville" life at this point, i picture them greeting the day on their boat somewhere off the coast in southern california.

grissom serves sara breakfast in bed—he's perfected his vegan pancake recipe over the last few years—and presents her with his gift—the pretty gold necklace we see her wearing at various points throughout the reboot trailer. they then spend the rest of the morning lying in, enjoying each other's company, before eventually venturing landward.

they fill their afternoon doing something meaningful to sara, like cleaning up a beach or working at a marine mammal rehab center, finding some way to "give back."

then in the evening, they dock in san diego, and grissom makes a big to-do about how there's this new high-end vegetarian restaurant he wants to take sara out to, where he's gotten them "the best seat in the house" looking out over the harbor.

but the thing is, he's acting kind of ~weird~ about the whole deal, keeping mum about certain details, and the fact that he is is making sara suspicious.

she has a good idea he has some sort of surprise planned for her, but she finds it odd that he does, because, honestly, she doesn't really like surprises, and he knows she doesn't like surprises, so what is he playing at?

she keeps angling for information, and while he as a matter of policy never outright lies to her, he does dodge her questions or purposefully answer them in a roundabout way, providing little actual intel.

he tells her enough to assuage any anxiety and so that she can be prepared for the evening—in terms of how much she should dress up, whether or not she should expect to be out all night, etc.—but nothing else.

so they show up to the venue, and it's a nice place, sure, but nothing out of the ordinary, which throws sara for a loop, because based on grissom's evasiveness, she was anticipating something—well—different.

this place is just a restaurant.

but.

as they're waiting to be seated, some weird things start happening.

first, the host approaches them, acting highly apologetic, and says there must have been a mix-up with their reservation, as their table seems to have been double-booked. he explains that, unfortunately, the only place he has left to seat them is in the back of the restaurant in a high-traffic area next to the kitchen.

grissom seems uncertain, but sara assures him that it's okay, so the host leads them toward the back of the restaurant—

—only to find that this table by the kitchen is also seemingly occupied.

a man sits with his back to them.

"excuse me, sir," says the host, and the stranger turns to face them.

nick!

honestly, sara shouldn't be as surprised to see him as she is, considering how flighty grissom had been acting about this whole outing and also given that nick is "mr. america's finest city" now, but somehow she is, and it's all she can do just to keep repeating, "wait a minute. how did—? when did—? seriously?" and looking between grissom and nick like she's never seen them before.

so stunned is she that nick has to prompt her into hugging him, and they're still hugging when part #2 of the surprise arrives: i.e., catherine and greg, emerging from out of the double-doors to the restaurant kitchen, greg with about a dozen black "happy 50th birthday!" balloons in hand.

he ties them to the back of what will be sara's chair, grinning like a fiend, and announces in a loud voice, "old lady sitting here!"

"you're only four years younger than i am," sara rebuffs, rolling her eyes, but the truth is, she can't stop smiling.

lots of soppy hugs and cheek kisses and "oh my god! i still can't believe this!" remarks later, the story comes out and sara learns just how carefully grissom had to machinate to make this night happen, sending surreptitious emails behind her back whenever they happened to be in port and have wifi, booking this restaurant way in advance, coordinating with nick to get catherine and greg from the airport to the venue on time, etc., etc., etc.

sara tries not to cry too much and mostly succeeds and just keeps saying over and over again how nice it is to see everybody.

"sure is," catherine says wryly, sipping her merlot. "let's do it again sometime soon. grissom's seventieth, maybe?"

"watch it," sara warns. "he's barely older than you are."

but grissom just shrugs. "we can use our senior discount."

their little quintet shares a lovely meal together, reminiscing about old times, catching up on what's new, waxing poetic about the passage of time.

near the end of the evening, the waitstaff brings out a cake with fifty lit candles and nick gives sara hell about how much of a fire hazard she's getting to be.

sara shakes her head. "excuse me, but i'm pretty sure you turned fifty before i did, director."

"objection! irrelevant," nick shoots back, smirking. "you gonna blow those candles out before this whole place burns down or what?"

"jesus! shut up!"

and after dessert and lots more kisses and hugs, everyone disperses for the night, nick off to deal with some administrivia from his lab before tomorrow, catherine and greg with flights to catch, grissom and sara back to their boat.

on their taxi ride to the harbor, sara turns quiet, and grissom vaguely worries that he overwhelmed her, springing such a big surprise on her out of nowhere.

"are you okay?" he asks, and she nods and rests her head on his shoulder.

"this is going to sound really, uh, grim, but i don't mean it that way," she warns him. "it’s just that for a long time, i wasn’t completely sure i’d make it here—to fifty—and then i worried that even if i did, i’d have no one to share it with." she draws a breath and reaches for his hands, twining them with hers on his lap. a kiss to his cheek. "thank you for making it so that wasn't true. today was amazing, and tonight was perfect. to be here with you and with our friends—with our family—like that, it's everything. it's exactly—," and though she trails off, not finishing her sentence, grissom understands what she means.

there was a long time when he thought he'd have to celebrate his milestones alone, too. he's never been so glad to have been wrong about anything in his life.

"many happy returns," grissom says softly, kissing her hair.

"they will be," sara says, and she sounds completely sure—like it's a promise, for both of them.

and grissom understands that, too.

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from Grist:

On a sunny afternoon in April, Katie Nichols crouched over the edges of a small oyster reef in Newport Bay, California, peering into the mud that had been exposed by the receding tide. Where all I saw was a jumble of interchangeable shell fragments, Nichols quickly spotted what she was looking for.

“There,” she said, pointing to a small, white shell. “That’s what a native looks like.”

Nichols was pointing to an Olympia oyster, the only oyster species native to the Pacific Coast of the United States. Smaller and rounder than non-native Pacific oysters, it was once abundant in the bays and estuaries of the California coast — but during the gold rush in the 1880s, the native species was overharvested, and the population collapsed. The oyster became “functionally extinct” in Southern California, according to Nichols, and today, much of the habitat where it could have settled has been degraded.

Nichols, the marine restoration director of Orange County Coastkeeper, a nonprofit clean water organization in Southern California, is working on a project trying to resurrect the Olympia oyster — at least in Newport Bay — and is trying to understand whether the unassuming bivalve could be a key part of helping coastlines adapt to the impacts of climate change.

In 2017, Coastkeeper set out to put the idea of living shorelines to the test in Upper Newport Bay. A team of volunteers and restoration workers hauled 40,000 pounds of Pacific oyster shells in biodegradable bags made of coconut husk onto the shore, to create a structure in which the larvae of native oysters could settle. The Olympia oyster population “isn’t larvae limited,” says Nichols, meaning there are more than enough oyster larvae in the water to allow oysters to repopulate under the right conditions. The problem is the lack of suitable habitat for oyster reefs to form. Bringing in oyster shells to create a habitat allows these larvae to take root on the shoreline and form a self-sustaining oyster bed.  

[radiojamming]

Can you tell us anything more about John Hartnell's time on the Voltage?

Hell yeah, I can! I have some pictures from the log books I can post later, too. I legit sat for H O U R S reading tiny handwriting from the master’s logs. Most of the logs were lists of chores, punishments, notes on the weather, and any major events. John’s time on the Volage can be divided pretty neatly in half, between the ship’s North American tour, and its Irish Sea patrol, all between 1841-45. 

The North American part was probably pretty exciting for him, considering that he’d been a shoemaker since he was thirteen years old. Compared to what his brother had been up to on the Volage (the Aden Expedition, Battle of Chuenpi, etc.), it focused less on military ventures and more on transportation and patrol. The first major thing it did was in December of 1841, when it accompanied the HMS Warspite and HMS Thalia in taking the King of Prussia, Frederick William IV to England to attend the christening of the Prince of Wales. After that, it scurried over to Plymouth to get new fittings, and then took off for the Caribbean. 

A lot happened in the Caribbean, and reading through the log books (always written in very non-emotional language, but still entertaining) paints a very eclectic picture of their activities. The Volage went to Jamaica first, awaiting orders until they were ordered to go to Saint Martha to pick up... $800,000 in gold. Legit, that sat on the Volage for two months until they dropped it off in Port Royal. By then, half the crew was incredibly ill with a mix of diseases including what might have been dysentery. Amazingly, for all of John’s terrible luck, he doesn’t appear on the sick list, even as one of the lieutenant’s eventually died as well as the clerk. 

They scurried back and forth across the Caribbean from January of 1842 until they departed for Halifax, Nova Scotia later that summer. (Land of @theiceandbones!) In all honesty, the Volage didn’t get up to much during it’s time in Halifax. They didn’t necessarily have a mission, but it does make for some really entertaining reading! There was a lot of shore leave, for instance. Here are some of the notes I wrote on my read-through between the Caribbean and Halifax (which is from ADM 54/312):

Mondays and Fridays are mandatory clothes-washing days.

8th of July 1842 - “Punished Michael Logan with 48 [!] lashes for Disobedience of Orders and Insolence”

12th of July 1842, 6pm - “Committed to the deep the Body of Samuel Marvin (AB) Deceased.” / “Departed this life William Baillie (boy) - Buried at sea on the 13th.”

18th of July 1842, 10:50 pm - “Heard the report of several Guns from the North” [in Halifax]

20th of July 1842 - Halifax Citadel visit and the burial of Robert Webb (boy), Samuel Gibbon, John Barnes, and Samuel Brummage (carpenter’s mate) on shore

Godden reports that several warm nights, sailors were permitted to use their hammocks and sleep on the beach! (I put a smiley face next to my note here!)

Most of their Halifax mooring was spent cleaning. Lots of repainting, holystoning, repairing, etc.

Multiple discharges for “uselessness” and “disgrace”. 

The latter note is really interesting, considering that none other than Charles Dickens visited Halifax that same year, and made note of sailors making total idiots out of themselves on oysters and champagne. Indeed, there are plenty of punishments recorded for that summer for drunkenness, insubordination, and desertion, again sometimes up to 48 lashes. (I’ll post a picture of the log just to confirm that.) On a high note, John Hartnell wasn’t punished once! And believe me, I looked!

They did have to have some repair work done to fix a leak in October before scurrying back down south with the “Squadron”. Godden makes some pretty boring notes about looking at the United States coast (as in essentially saying, “Yep, there it is!”) before they hang tight to the coast of Mexico. 

The Volage appears to have been outfitted for doing survey work, which is part of what they did for the next few months. Between that, mooring for absolutely nothing, and hanging out with slave ship hunters (I like to think they high-fived the HMS Racer at some point) their zig-zag order of ports of call are:

Barbados > Puerto Rico > Grenada > St. Vincent > Jamaica > St. Lucie > Antigua > Jamaica (long-term Port Royal mooring) > Haiti 

By early 1843, the Volage was headed back home. They docked in Plymouth for a time before getting their next orders for the Admiralty for the apparently much-maligned Irish Sea duty. At this point, Captain William Dickson had a temporary replacement for the deceased Lt. Davey, but eventually, that lieutenant had to leave as well. Captain Dickson did get a note from the Admiralty that he was to get his replacement at the Cove of Cork, and according to the sudden burst of tiny handwriting at the bottom of the page on Tuesday, August 29th, 1843, Captain Dickson totally forgot about that. Literally, the note for the day is kind of falling off the page from squeezing it in, but reads: “Read the Commission of Lieut J Irving”.

Because Lieutenant John Irving hopped on board as a new replacement, thus using those sweet, sweet letters of his to describe the next few months. He was absolutely meticulous about dating his letters, and having them on hand in his memoir made it easy to line up with Godden’s notes in the master’s log, confirming everything between the two of them. This time, Irish patrol got kind of exciting.

First, here’s Irving talking about joining the Volage, saying much nicer things about Capt. Dickson considering the captain was probably going, “Oh shit right I forgot we were doing this.”

“To my great joy I found the ‘Volage’ at anchor here. I was afraid she might have gone somewhere else. I went on board direct from the steamer, and was introduced to Sir William Dickson, the Captain; rigged myself in a blue coat and a pair of epaulettes; the hands were turned up, and the Captain read my commission appointing me lieutenant of the ship to the ship’s company. There are three of us. I am the second in seniority. Our mess consists of seven--viz., three lieutenants, one master, surgeon, a lieutenant of marines. They are all very good fellows. I was three years messmate of one of them in a former ship, so am comfortable in that respect.”

Irving noted that the officers were frequently invited to parties in Cork (”I could be at parties every day if I liked;”), and Godden does say that the rest of the crew were given shore leave fairly frequently, even though they didn’t have enough officers to allow them to leave as often. 

For the next four months, the Volage remained at Cork, doing patrol with several other man-of-war’s. On land, there were frequent clashes between the Protestants and the Catholics, but more importantly, there were the Repealers following Daniel O’Connell’s urging to repeal the Acts of the Union and re-establish the independent Kingdom of Ireland. Between Irving and Godden, the image of this time from the perspective of the Volage is one of a lot of bloody rumors and high tension (a Protestant curate was killed, houses were being burned down). However, O’Connell’s followers were very civil to the sailors and actually invited some of the Volage officers to visit their homes. Irving called their hospitality “quite Highland”. 

The Volage was temporarily relieved of its patrol in December, and returned to Plymouth by January of 1844 for refitting and repair work after shearing off part of her keel. Godden and Irving both noted that sailors and officers were boarded on a hulk, or a non-sailing ship. Godden also noted that several sailors were permitted leave to go visiting nearby. (John Hartnell did have family in Plymouth, and Thomas Hartnell may have been visiting the area at the same time, if a pet theory of mine holds up.) 

They were back in the Cove of Cork by February, with the Volage now as the flagship. During a period between February and June, the Volage frequently made trips between Cork and the town of Bantry, after further pro-Repealer agitation began to raise tensions once more. Godden’s log doesn’t say much on the subject aside from weather reports and notes on officers leaving the ship to attend parties, major gatherings in town (there’s a really interesting bit from Irving on scaring the bejeezus out of a group of paraders and stealing the Waterford city flag), and switching out officers. However, the tensions once again didn’t amount to much more than far-off reports of violence and a few observations of pissed-off “pisantry”. The Volage did return to Plymouth for Christmas before returning for a short turn in Cork, and then being paid off completely. The log for that topic shows that John Hartnell was paid off on February 1st, 1845.

As far as what life would have been like for John Hartnell on the Volage, it’s hard to say for sure since, once again, Godden’s logs are impersonal. However, he was responsible for recording all punishments, injuries, illnesses, and deaths, of which there was no lack. He also kept meticulous note of what chores were to be done on particular days, as well as drills. I noticed there was a lot of repetition in the chore schedule, and there was a slight uptick in sailors suddenly taking ill with “unknown” illnesses about two and a half years in, especially on days that had chores requiring a little more elbow grease.

But I think, as I said, this would have been very exciting for someone like John. After all, he voluntarily signed up for the Erebus four months after signing off on the Volage. Unfortunately, we don’t have any letters to or from him that might hint to how he felt during this time, so we have to take it from his actions rather than his words. I like to think he enjoyed himself.

[fieryrondo]

my report on skate canada 2019 and how i fell in love with figure skating all over again (part 1)

It’s taken me about a month to sit down and write this. Not necessarily due to lack of time (though that is a factor) but because the experience was so much. Even now, with grainy photos and videos taken with a trembling hand as proof of my time there, Skate Canada feels like a bit of a fever dream. The best kind that leaves you breathless, heart-pounding and longing for more.

I’m not a stranger to traveling alone but this would be my first international venture for something solely recreational, something solely just for me. A purely selfish pleasure. The planning itself was a.process that evolved over the course of months. And to be honest, there were times when I thought this trip wouldn’t happen at all. My flight, booked months in advance, got moved up several hours earlier than expected, forcing me to decide between missing part of the gala or to stay an extra night. Personal problems drained my stamina, and several bouts of poor health stoked the fear that this day would never come. It only became real when I set off for Boston, carry-on, and swan plush in tow, for the first leg of my journey.

Kelowna, a charming lake-resort town in the middle of nowhere British Columbia. There are no direct flights from the East Coast there and I ended up having an overnight stopover in Toronto. From what I saw from the vantage point of the aircraft, Toronto was a beautiful city and reminded me a little of Los Angeles. However, I had little time to appreciate the city. I checked into a hotel to shower, warm up some leftovers, and resurrect my dying phone.

(above) My companions for the journey. 

The swan was for Yuzuru, I know it is traditional to give him a Pooh bear but I picked the swan because it was the first program of his that I saw and to this day, it is still my favorite. It has a lot of meaning for me. The Sakura Pooh was my lucky charm, the Pooh ears a last-minute purchase. 

Due to my schedule, I had to miss the first day, which itself was a bit of a risk. Isn’t it crazy? Traveling thousands of kilometers just to watch half a competition? I certainly thought so. Not to mention how Yuzuru performed during the short would have a direct impact on how he would approach the free skate. Skate Canada has never been his strongest competition. Even if he was the overwhelming favorite, like most fanyus, I’ve learned to take nothing for granted. When I heard that he skated well in the short, I breathed a little more easily before settling down to draft my letter.

“Perhaps it’s a bit forward of me, a complete stranger, to wish you this, but congratulations on your chest muscles” was the opening line of my letter, as suggested by my good friend Tanya over @turistinmyowncity​. I was too embarrassed to actually take photographic evidence but rest assured I did include it. I like to think that it may have made Yuzuru smile. A gold foil origami crane was added for additional luck. Like many fans, I was keeping my fingers crossed for Yuzuru’s first Skate Canada title.

And then it was off to the airport again, this time for the second leg of the flight. Unlike the first flight, not so many passengers were flying to Kelowna and we all got to pick our own seats.

It did not occur to me that catching Yuzuru’s practice was even within the realm of possibility until I had realized that we had arrived in Kelowna 30 minutes earlier than scheduled. A fanyu i had been corresponding with had texted: “Yuzuru’s skating second to last in practice. If you hurry, you might make it.”

*insert dramatic cinematic action sequence where I race to the nearest cab driver, shakily request to be taken to Prospera Palace expediently without breaking any traffic safety laws and then quietly die to the barely heard strains of Origin while the main entrance security guard painstakingly searches my luggage.*

One of the most vivid memories I have of Skate Canada is dragging my ridiculously bulky carryon (gimpy wheel and all) up the flight of stairs in Section 114, trying to flatten myself and become one with the stairwell wall and not get in anyone’s way. A volunteer took pity on me and let me stand on the top of the steps for a closer look. The first thing I saw, of course, was Pooh-san, that bright splash of red and yellow works perfectly as a homing beacon.

I missed Origin but was able to catch the last few minutes of practice. As for first impressions go, I’m afraid I don’t have anything particularly new to offer. Yuzuru looks as exactly as he does in photos. Sharp, precise, graceful. And fast! He kept practicing what looked like his entrance into quad loop. 

With men’s practice over, I met up with fellow fanyu VentusCantabile, an extremely sweet person with an excellent singing voice :). I dropped off my luggage at our Airbnb (conveniently located two blocks away) before rushing back over to the arena for the free dance. The venue itself is not that big so even in seats from the nosebleed section you can get a pretty good view. I was in section 112, the closest I could get to the judges' side view and also got a decent(ish) view of the kiss and cry.

I must confess that I don’t really follow ice dance and am unable to provide anything insightful. To me, everyone looked absolutely stunning. I cheered extra loud for Sara Hurtado/Kirill Khaliavin, the first Spanish ice dancers to win a Grand Prix medal. It’s no secret that I miss Javi terribly since his retirement so it was so nice to see Spanish figure skating continue to make strides. Sara’s story is also particularly inspiring. Like Javi, she has worked extremely hard to put Spanish figure skating on the map.

Other teams that impressed were: Gilles/Pourier, Hubbell/Donohue and Fear/Gibson. Fear/Gibson had an especially fun program and the Russian family next to me were so cute in that they were cheering for all of the European teams.

And then it was time for the ladies.

Media will talk about Trusova’s mindbogglingly difficult quads, Rika’s sublime triple axel, Medvedeva’s fight of a free, but the free skate of the night for me personally was Marin’s La La Land. So tenderly skated! Marin is so lovely and a true pleasure to watch live. To watch her bravely skate through (bandage and all) the best free she’s had in ages, how meaningful it must have been. And thus the first sea of Japanese flags washed through the stands. 

Here is Evgenia! Her dress is actually extremely beautiful. A very charismatic skater, there were a lot of fans who had come from overseas to cheer for her. 

Cute podium :)

Then a break for lunch. The funniest thing I found about being in Kelowna is how it is no exaggeration that figure skating fans just take over the town. The restaurant we went to was packed full of figure skating fans. Talking with fanyus was surprisingly easy. A bit awkward at first but it wasn’t long before we were easily chatting about scoring GOE guidelines and work and other fandom interests.

Then back to the rink for pairs. Given that there was a dearth of filled seats in the lower rows, I half-guiltily took the opportunity to sit a bit closer.

Watching pairs. Is. Terrifying. Lifts are hella more impressive. Twists are gravity defying. Throws are put your hands together and pray the guy does his part to help his partner land those jumps.

Vladimir Morozov lifting Evgenia Tarasova. I appreciated them a lot more live. Their elements are huge and so so clean.

Boikova/Kozlovskii are also now officially my favorite Russian pairs team. I had originally planned on filming their free since seeing quality pairs skating is such a rare opportunity in the US (cough, cough, please invest in pairs more, usfsa). I could not take my eyes off of them for one second. They were so confident and radiating electric charisma from start to finish. A young team with a very bright future!

Between the break, I also spotted Elladj Blade and Kevin Reynolds, the latter was kindly signing autographs. I was too shy to approach either of them but let me tell you Kevin is very sweet with little kids.

And then on to the men! The arena was starting to fill again so I ended up moving up a few rows. I was nervous (for a variety of reasons) but this was ultimately the event I came to see. Watching men is a bit like Russian roulette, you can either expect magnificence or implosion (or sometimes both). Not too many falls but pops are quite painful to see, especially when you know they are so costly. Still, there was a lot to like. Watching Matteo made my heart ache because his style reminds me so much of Javi’s (and doing a flamenco program does not make that association any easier). Roman is also really gorgeous to watch live, but he was so nervous during the free he was unable to show us what he’s really capable of.

At some point, you can sense the audience’s point of focus shift, probably during Camden’s skate (also really liked Camden!). I was sitting pretty close to the side of the skater’s entrance and noticed that all of the fans right by the stairwell had their phones/cameras out. Stairwell shooting is always a reliable indicator of Yuzuru’s arrival ^^

That roar of approval when Yuzuru takes off his jacket is something else. Origin 2.0 is a beautiful costume and way, way more sparkly in real life. Photos don’t quite do the sparkles justice.

Those six minutes of warm-up were honestly some of the most stressful I’ve experienced. Yuzuru kept drilling the quad loop, the jump that he had been having trouble with during practice. After he had gotten a beautiful one under his belt (good, please do that again in the free), he seemed to calm down.

I found it very difficult to concentrate on the other skaters in the second group. By then the stadium was packed and every seat was filled. I had doubts about whether or not I would even get the chance to throw my gift onto the ice because I was so high up and nowhere near the aisle. Worst case scenario, I would just keep my swan.

Keiji!!! He was so fun to watch here. I really love both of his programs this season and he was totally on from the very first jump! Not gonna lie, I saw my life flash before my eyes when he almost ran straight into the boards on his second sal, and then the dainty single toe on the end made me laugh. :)

So it never occurred to me, a formerly strictly broadcast viewer, the amount of time that skaters have right before they skate. There is SO much time. While they were doing the slow-mo replay and the judges were punching buttons, Yuzuru was already whizzing on the ice. He landed a very beautiful quad toe. Feather light. Airy. Calm and commanding, he looked good to go.

At this point, I put down my phone. Although part of me cried at the thought of not having a personal recording of Yuzuru’s free, it felt important to focus entirely on him with my own two eyes.

There are no words that can quite describe what I felt when watching Origin. When I look back on this skate, I can only remember how hard I ground my teeth. How I could feel the opening drum beats like the beats of a human heart. How my knuckles whitened as they grasped the edge of my hard seat. Yuzuru went for the loop and spun out, clinging on to the ice by the edge of his blade. Not the prettiest landing but he made it.

The sal next, smooth as silk. Step sequence, violin choreo(!!), that scream for the prettiest triple lutz I’ve seen. Quad toe. How many quads left. My fingernails were digging into my plastic wrapped swan. THAT FUCKING QUAD TOE-EULER-TRIPLE FLIP. Ahhhhhhhh, roll of thunder, hear our cry.

The CLAPPING. 6000 voices in perfect synchrony. Every completed jumping pass felt like a victory charge. That bionic knee bend determination to eke out that double toe. All jumping passes cleared. At some point I must have started breathing again. A song in my heart, indiscriminate joy squeezing the heck out of my vocal cords. Lay down that ina bauer! A tiny slip on the hydroblade but he’s done it. He’s ground the silver curse to dust. When you’re screaming at the top of your lungs but you can’t hear a thing because everyone else around you is screaming louder than you. Final clapping sequence. Dramatique pose, punch the air. Sound your barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

322.59!!! Feels. So. Damn. Right.

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The Vancouver Island & Sunshine Coast Loop: A Solo Cycle Tour of BC’s Finest Retirement Communities. Part 2

Day 4: I hit the road at 7am. A quick ride on the Trans Canada woke me up and brought me to my daily bakery stop.

Serious Coffee for Serious Cyclists.

After second breakfast, I only had to follow one road: the 19A. With wide shoulders and no navigation required, I made good time up the coast. It would have been top notch riding if it wasn’t for the EXCESSIVE WIND that blew all day for NO REASON AT ALL. 

The best views were at Union Bay, where I slowed down a little too much until I realized the ferry I wanted to catch was coming up soon. I gunned it the last 25km to Comox, which was, shockingly, FULL OF HILLS. I gave up on my granny gear zen and let my rage carry me to the ferry terminal, where I caught the 3:25 just in time. The wind refused to chill out so I sat inside and charged my phone while I watched the white caps dance on the ocean.

Once I landed in Powell River it was only a few minutes to the campsite. After 113km my legs once again felt perfectly normal, which was weird. Sitting on a bike saddle, however, was deeply uncomfortable. I decided to walk the 3km to Townsite Brewing, stopping to gorge on veggie korma and stuffed potato naan on the way. 

I didn’t have room for another beer but I drank it anyway because I had biked HUNDREDS OF KILOMETERS to get there. 

I met this beautiful cat on the way back to the campsite, where I quickly fell asleep.

Day 5 began with gear sorting. It seemed like a lot.

I was a bit apprehensive about biking on the Sunshine Coast as I heard it was even hillier than Vancouver Island, but if the family camping next to me could bike to Lund from Powell River with a trailer and a young kid, there's no reason Gavin and I couldn't. The hills were very present, but still doable. I only had 27km to go, and I would have enjoyed the long decent into Lund if I knew I wouldn't have to climb back up eventually.

Lund was a tiny, bustling hub. I was surprised at the size of the grocery and liquor store (also surprised there was a liquor store at all). The store didn’t have much fresh produce, but I can live off beans, chips, and hot dogs for DAYS, thank you very much. Next I headed to Nancy's Bakery for a couple sandos and one of their famous blackberry cinnamon buns (which I'd been thinking about since the last time I was there, two years ago). I found a patio spot next to an outlet and gave my phone one last top up, because I couldn’t count on charging anything on Savary Island. With a couple hours before my water taxi reservation, I found myself on my own with nothing to do, which hadn't happened yet on the trip. I decided to call my parents and tell them what I was doing. I promised my mom I’d write a blog post so I could share some photos (hi, mom!). It was bizzy on Savary Island: rubbermaids, bags, boxes of booze, bikes, and a line of trucks lined up the dock. The people quickly dispersed into various homes, cabins, guest houses, resorts, and moss covered trailers. I went up the hill (no matter where I went, it was up a hill) to the campground: a loose scattering of wooden tent pads on some guy’s property. The owner told me “There is no check in. You just find a site that looks good and settle in.” Cool.

Of course the only rain I saw on the trip happened as soon as I arrived at a sub-tropical island. I expected to have a nap ASAP, but instead opted for a cold shower and laundry in the sink. I couldn’t fully clean my smelly bike shorts with Camp Suds; I could only make them slightly less smelly. 

Savary is a long, skinny island filled with lush rainforest and edged with white sandy beaches. After a comfortable and pitch black night, I was up at a decent hour. Day 6 was my rest day, which meant biking without all my gear. My legs felt overqualified for the 8km rip across the island and back. 

It was Gavin’s rest day, too. 

After a big brunch scramble and a hot dog, I headed to the beach, which was just as sunny and glorious as I imagined. I took a dip in the ocean, read, ate a bag of chips and a hot dog. When I ran out of food I went back to my camp and made an underwhelming dinner of overcooked veggies and terrible instant mashed potatoes with a hot dog. 

One of the best books I’ve read in a long time. It’s about a girl growing up in a survivalist, ultra conservative, and unsafe family fighting for education, despite never setting foot in a classroom until the age of 17. I left my copy at a community library on Savary. Feel free to go get it. On day 7 I caught the morning water taxi back to Lund, then made one more stop at Nancy's before tackling the 3km uphill. It was overcast and muggy. Sweaty and grimy. The ride to Powell River was quick though, and I treated myself to a Buddha bowl and cold beer for lunch. 

It was another 27km to Saltery Bay...

... which was an exceptionally beautiful provincial park.

Of course the campground attendant came to collect fees while I was in the middle of washing myself from a pot.

I felt resourceful that day. Like I belonged out there. It was the little things, like seeing the cycle route sign even though I didn’t see any other cyclists, collecting large rocks to hold my tent down because the ground was too hard for stakes, or improvising a bear hang because the campground didn’t have a bear proof locker for cyclists (get it together, Saltery). Part of me still feels like the kid who spends all her time reading, watching LOTR EE marathons, and making pizza at Panago for $6 an hour. I never grew up thinking of myself as athletic or woodsy, and compared to many people I'm not, but it's about time I realize I can do this on my own. And that I love it.

Day 8 began with a serene ferry ride to Earl's Cove. Out of the entire trip, I was the most nervous about the upcoming ride from Earl's to Sechelt. I knew it would be windy, narrow, and steep, and I didn’t want to end up schmucked on the side of the 101 because some yahoo hauling a yacht, four kayaks, and a dozen mountain bikes couldn't be bothered to slow down on a blind corner. But at this point I had 500km of experience, a bag of Sour Cherry Blasters, and my screaming pink cycling jersey to get through the day safely. It was relatively quiet early Wednesday morning, and the beautiful ride turned out to be one of my favourite sections.

I took a detour on Redrooffs Road after Half Moon Bay to get off the highway for a bit. It was scenic enough, but the elevation was stupid. I hadn’t walked Gavin up that many hills since Thetis Lake Regional Park. Things started to go downhill from there. Metaphorically of course, as the hills only went up. 

Traffic volume started to increase at Sechelt, where I stopped for candy. The Cherry Blasters picked me right up, but not even a sugar rush can hold off eight days of fatigue indefinitely. The last few kilometers to Gibsons weren't exactly painful, but they were not pleasant. My faith in Google Maps’ elevation estimates might never recover. My bike chain was dry and squeaking, but I thought if I could just make it to my destination and offload my gear I could zip back into town and find a bike shop and get some lubricant. In reality, once I finally arrived at Mike's place, after 83km and over 1400m of elevation gain, I couldn't bring myself to take the hill down into Gibsons again. "Can olive oil work on bike chains" is not my proudest Google search, but weary, smelly, and perpetually damp cyclists are nothing if not humble. And the answer is no, not really, but olive oil is better than nothing.

Thankfully Persephone Brewing was within walking distance. My healing began with an order of spring rolls and a rye farmhouse ale.

That evening, as I settled in to my tent, I heard the soft whisper of my couch back at home. The call of the bahn mis at Chickpea that Brian said were amazing. The whinny of my stupidly sensitive horse on Red Dead Redemption 2 Online. The sweet yet powerful purr of Alley Cat, my gentle golden nugget. I was a two hour ride away from completing the biggest physical achievement of my life. A year ago running 5k was a stretch, and biking 11km to Richmond was a chore. I wanted to do an ambitious cycle tour to see if I could. And I can. There’s nothing particularly special about me, or most people, but that doesn’t have to stop us from getting shit done. 

Day 9 was a quick ride down to the ferry, then a hilly ride through West Van on Marine Drive. Once I hit the Lions Gate Bridge, I knew I was home free.

Coming home after 9 days and 590km of a door-to-door solo cycle tour was incredibly satisfying.

Almost as satisfying as seeing my number one precious sweet potato again! 

This sweet pup is my number two. 

Maybe one day I’ll do a proper Google Maps route but this is the general idea.

Highlight(s): the views on Salt Spring, Sokka’s beautiful kitten face, the ride up from Nanaimo, the white sandy beaches at Savary, the peaceful ferry ride from Saltery, the surprisingly doable hills after Earl's Cove, the pics of my niece and nephew smiling on their first day back at school, the beers and food at Persephone, the moment I realized that I absolutely crushed every part of my ambitious plan. Lowlight: Thetis Lake Regional Park. Gold star: Gavin. This humble, unassuming, steel frame hybrid has been a true star, solid and dependable. I love this bike. I love what we can do together. Runner up: The weather. Almost perfect. Runner up: My legs. You know what you did.