#very legitimate bear worries and shore walks

[mer-se]

out by the water and things

[bougiebutchbitch]

I saw so many of your OFMD rbs today that it reignited my OFMD/izzy/steddyhands hyper fixation lol. Not that I’m upset abt it!! What r ur fav headcanons abt them?

jgfhfjf I was on a roll this morning! I like the idea that Izzy survived, but it was covered up by the crew (and Izzy!) to get Izzy away from Ed and Stede. Frenchie, Jim, Fang and Archie were still very wary of Ed, for obvious reasons. Plus, everyone was worried about their unicorn and thought he deserved better than to be the eternal third wheel!

So Stede and Ed legitimately grieve him, and bury a 'body' (actually a mop with two coconuts attached to it, though they're unaware of this skjldsdg - IF YOU KNOW THE FANART, YOU KNOW) all while Izzy is healing and happy with his family on the Revenge, under Frenchie's captainhood! Stede and Ed are repairing their relationship, coming to terms with everything that happened to them and everything they did, good and bad alike. Ditto for Izzy and his crew! It's a perfect happy ending for everyone!

But.

But.

Stede and Ed never quite feel 'whole', by themselves on a little desert island, trying to start a business, every day bogged down with routine and basic hard work that neither of them are used to.

And Izzy loves his crew so much, but he doesn't quite feel 'whole' either. He wants so desperately to see how Stede and Ed are doing. He misses them a lot, and though he holds everything together for Frenchie and the others' sake, Frenchie has caught him a dozen times sat in the crows' nest at night, looking out in the direction of Ed and Stede's island and sighing...

They pass by the island one time, and Izzy is obviously SO fucking forlorn, though he's doing his utmost to pretend otherwise. Frenchie, Jim, Archie and Fang can't bear it. They thought they were doing the right thing by giving Izzy a life away from his captains. And they were! It was what Izzy needed! He's grown in himself, and seems far more grounded and happy!

But he wants to go back to them anyway.

And Frenchie knows it would be wrong to stop him. Plus, who's to say Ed and Stede haven't done some GrowthTM of their own?

So, he wakes Izzy from his cabin and gives him a big hug, before leading him out onto the deck. The whole crew have gathered. Cue hugs all around, and they each give him a little present - a clumsy wooden sculpture from Lucius, a far better one from Pete (he's teaching his husband how to whittle!), a garlic knot necklace from Oluwande and Archie and Jim for luck, etc. etc. etc.

Izzy is gruffly trying not to cry (because he loves them so much and he'll miss them so much, but he has felt like a fucking burden lately (even though he absolutely isn't; after Zheng set off to rebuild her armada, he was in charge of teaching the crew how to Pirate Right, and he did a damn good job!) And he's in a lot of pain trying to keep up with life on the ship with all his old injuries. He knows he's not the best swordsman in the Caribbean anymore, and deep down, he feels, it's time ot pack it in.) He gives each of them a tight hug and a rough-voiced compliment (small and genuine and kinda backhanded in typical Izzy fashion; telling Lucius he's not fucking useless; telling Oluwande he's far too nice to be a quartermaster but he makes it fucking work and that's good, Izzy figures; telling Frenchie he's far from the worst captain Izzy's sailed under). Then he quietly strips his glove off, and hands it to Jim. They don't hug. They just nod at each other, one guard dog to another.

As Izzy rows to shore, to where Ed and Stede's little inn stands, a candle in the window burning like a lighthouse in the night... He hears the music blossom out from the ship, La Vie En Rose, playing him towards his retirement. And he finds himself smiling, so hard it hurts.

...Then he walks into the inn like 'sup twats. Bet you thought you'd seen the last of me.' and Ed and Stede start screaming lskdfhkjsdgf

[hiscyarika]

The Kings Who Are Gone

Word Count: 2.1k

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Reader

Summary: Reader visits the ruins of Sunspear after Dorne is conquered. Based on the song “Jenny of Oldstones” from Game of Thrones.

Warning(s): Heavy Angst, Hopelessness, Death

A/N: So this idea hit me at like one this morning and now it’s almost six. I can see the sun coming up but it’s worth it because I haven't been able to get my brain to write anything for at least two weeks, probably closer to three. Hopefully this is a worthwhile read while you guys wait for Landslide. There are a few different versions of this song. I listened to the score version and the episode version (Podrick singing it in 8x02) while I wrote. I definitely recommend the score version to play while you read, but I’d also listen to Pod singing it just so you have the lyrics. They’re pretty important to the plot.

Masterlist

Tag Lists

Gif by @bestintheparsec​ 

The sun has gone from Sunspear.

The crystal blue waters of the Summer Sea have turned black. Raging waves crash against the shore. There’s a violent wind whipping through the air, no longer the gentle, salty breeze that you had once known. Dark, ominous clouds swirl above you, split only by the lightning that threatens to tear apart the very sky. Thunder follows soon after, a deep cacophony that forms a wrathful symphony with the ocean.

The stories will tell of a light that was destroyed with Dorne, but you haven’t seen the sun since the day he died.

A shiver runs up your spine as your bare feet hit the cobblestone of the walkway up to the palace. What once stood as your home, full of love and warmth, now lies in ruins–devoid of all life. The only warmth you feel is from the tears that fall silently from your eyes, a stark contrast to the cold rain against your skin.

As you step inside, a deep ache swells within your chest. It’s an agony that has refused to leave you since the moment you watched the Mountain slaughter the man you loved. Though you suppose, in some sick, twisted way, you’re grateful for this anguish that has taken up permanent residence in your soul. It reminds you that he was real, that he lived a life just as vibrant as the sun and loved you with the same heated passion. And now, in the wake of his death, it serves as the only indication that you still live, that you still have the capacity to feel something.

You roam the halls with no particular destination, taking in the destruction that has befallen your home. Columns have been knocked down, allowing the rain to reach inside where the roof has caved in. Bodies of both Dornishmen and enemies alike lie on the floor, the stone painted red with blood. And banners, which once flew proudly with the sigil of House Martell, have been ripped apart and burned, the only relic that remains of a fallen bloodline.

You bring your hand to your mouth to stifle a sob. You’d never been given a chance to further the Martell line. After your marriage, he’d often told you about his wish to have a son. He assured you that he loved his daughters, and that they would be loved no less than any child you might bear, but you understood the significance of having a legitimate heir just as well as he did. You’d wanted so badly to give him a son, but he’d been taken from you before the gods could bless you with a child.

You continue on, finding yourself standing on a balcony overlooking the Water Gardens. The lush greenery has withered and died, losing all of its vibrant color. Your fingers wrap tightly around the railing, so tightly that your knuckles turn white. You close your eyes as memories of afternoon walks come flooding back to you: your arm linked with his as you moved amongst the fountains and the tall flowering plants. The sounds of children’s laughter floating in the background as you listened to his rich baritone, words of passion and poetry seeping from his lips like the sweetest honey.

You collapse to your knees as your desiderium reaches its peak. An ardent longing for that which you’ve lost. Your form shakes with violent sobs that tear from your very soul. As the storm continues to rage, you wish that it would split the palace in two, swallowing you into an abyss you could never escape. At least then you would be free of such profound torment.

But something breaks you from your cathartic release. A soft call so foreign to the tempest. A gentle whisper of your name carried in the screaming wind.

You pull yourself to your feet, turning back to the desecrated halls. Your heart beats wildly in your chest as you search the darkness for whoever had dared to disturb you. And in the shadows you find your answer, the dark silhouette of a man looming in the doorway like some omen of death.

“Who are you? Why have you come here?,” you call to him, somehow finding a tone firm and strong enough to carry over the storm. It occurs to you that he could very well pose a threat, but somehow you find peace in knowing that your life will end here if that is what he’s come to ensure.

He gives no answer and instead steps forward, though not close enough for you to truly see him. Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating the room for just a fraction of a second. A sharp gasp escapes your lips as you catch a glimpse of him in the momentary light.

“Oberyn?,” you call, tears forming in your eyes again as he comes closer. He steps out of the shadows, revealing himself fully to you. Your hand comes up to cover your mouth again and you shake your head in disbelief.

“Come to me, my love,” he beckons, opening his arms. The sound of his voice nearly has you falling to your knees once more.

You step tentatively towards him, reaching out hesitantly to touch him. Once you’re close enough, he takes your hand in both of his, pressing his warm, soft lips to your knuckles.

You collapse into his embrace, your fists locking around the fabric of the golden robe he wears. His arms wrap around you, securing you to his chest. And you bury your face in his shoulder, crying with the same force of the storm.

But you don’t allow yourself to remain hidden from him for long. You lift your head after a few moments, cradling his face in your hands. Your thumbs rub gently over the stubble there, and through the blur of your tears you try to commit every detail of him to memory. His soft, dark eyes. The curve of his nose. The dimple in his right cheek. The bow of his lips. Everything you thought that you would never see again.

You take in a sharp breath, still trying to make sense of it all in your head. He’s gone. You watched him die. It was a sight that you’ll never forget, one that still haunts you every time you close your eyes to sleep. “Either I am dreaming or I am dead. No matter which, I wish to never wake again,” you murmur.

“I have missed you, my love,” Oberyn replies softly. He leans down closer to you, pressing his forehead lightly to yours. You inhale deeply, breathing in his scent and letting it fill you with a sense of peace that you have not felt since the last time you held him this close.

He inches closer, his lips finally capturing yours in a deep, passionate kiss. The salt of your longing tears mixes with saccharine berry wine, the taste of him that had become such a distant memory, you had almost forgotten. His kiss brings back the warmth that you have lived so long without, and by the beating of your heart and the renewed vitality of your soul, you know that you are alive. You can feel the sun again.

Though you wish to never part from him again, Oberyn pulls away after a few long moments, gazing softly down into your eyes again. He brushes a few damp strands of hair from your face, then presses a softer kiss to your forehead. “What magic has brought you back to me?,” you ask him, but his brows furrow and he shakes his head.

“Shhh, little dove. You mustn’t worry about such things. Just allow me to keep you this close for as long as I am able,” he asks of you. Fear strikes your heart at his words, quick and sharp and painful.

“Please don’t leave me again, Oberyn. I couldn’t bear it. Living without you has been a fate worse than death,” you tell him, your words rushed and panicked. Your hands fall to his chest as you plead with him.

He shifts, moving to cup your cheek and wipe away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. “I will not leave you any sooner than I must, but the time will come eventually, my love,” he laments.

You release a shaking sigh, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes for just a few moments. Oberyn slowly wraps an arm around your waist, his other hand coming to cradle the back of your head. He begins to sway then, a soothing, rhythmic movement, and leans down to let his temple rest against the crown of your head.

As you stand there with Oberyn, dancing with the thunder and waves as your only music, you find your sorrows melting away until they feel like nothing but a distant memory. You can breathe easier. There’s no deep ache settled in your chest. You feel whole and alive in the arms of your prince, and you try your hardest not to dwell on how long this feeling will last. All you know is that if you could, you would never leave this place. You would stay here with Oberyn forever even if it meant your death.

“I love you, Oberyn,” you whisper, unable to keep the words to yourself after so many years. You wrap your arms tightly around him then. Somehow, you know that your time is running out. It’s slipping away from you like sand in an hourglass. But this one cannot be turned on its head to start over.

Oberyn lifts his head, and you do the same, meeting his soft gaze once more. “As I love you. Always,” he tells you.

Something in the wind changes. It’s tangible, and Oberyn looks up, studying the air around the two of you. Your heart begins to pound in your chest as you realize what it means. “Stay with me, Oberyn,” you beg, your voice quivering in panic.

“I cannot, my love. I’m so sorry,” he says, hanging his head in defeat.

“Then take me with you!,” you cry, though you know what that would mean for you.

He shakes his head, looking back up at you with a hardened expression. “I will not take you before it is your time,” he states firmly, “You have a life to live, little dove.”

“There is no life left for me, Oberyn. You’re gone. Dorne is in ruins. Our people are dead. What life do I have to live in this place?,” you plead with him. Your words are punctuated by a sharp gasp, and tears stain your cheeks once more.

He slowly begins to release you, and despite your efforts to hold onto him, he removes himself from your grasp. “I’m sorry, my love,” he murmurs, a deep sadness in his eyes as he takes your hand, pressing a final kiss to the underside of your wrist.

“Oberyn, please,” you beg, but you can feel the warmth of his lips leaving you. You close your eyes for just a moment, and when you open them again, you’re forced to watch as he fades from your sight. You step forward, trying to hold onto him, but your hands never find purchase. Like a mirage in the heat of the desert, everything your survival depends on disappears like it was never there in the first place.

Just like that, your sun is gone again.

You crumble to the floor, sobs wracking your body. You don’t try to silence them. You cry. You scream. You curse the gods for taunting you this way. To see your love again, only to have him taken from you once more is the worst torment you’ve ever had to endure, even worse than his death at the hands of the Lannisters. You imagine that this is what hell is like, and you wonder if maybe that’s where you’ve ended up.

You lie there on the floor, too weak to force yourself to move. There’s nothing in the world worth the effort. Instead, you watch as the storm continues to rage, tearing at the weakened structure of the palace. You close your eyes as the roof above you begins to give away, making peace with the fact that you will never leave these ruins. You hope that this will bring you home to Oberyn.

And soon enough, those ruins become your tomb.

-

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[conaionaru]

Honor and Blood (Ivar the Boneless)

You are my everything

Synopsis: Some pregnancy fluff, cute Ivar and good future grandma Aslaug.

Warnings: fluff, angst, cute Ivar

Tags

@youbloodymadgenius​ @shannygoatgruff​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @heavenly1927​ @queenbeeta​ @lol-haha-joke​ @didiintheblog​

P.S. Everything in cursive is in Old Norse. Flashback are in bold and cursive.

I don’t own the gifs. Also, thank you for your support. I really appreciate it.

Vanya walked the streets with Aslaug by her side, as Brynja was off today cause her father grew sick. The two women walked by the forge where Ivar hammered steel and watched them pass by. Aslaug chuckled at his antics and apologized on his behalf. Vanya liked this side of Aslaug. 

Mostly when she saw the Queen, she had a cup in hand or asked her intrusive questions. But ever since her belly grew bigger, Aslaug held back on the alcohol. She spent more time with Vanya and shared tales from her own pregnancies. The Queen of Kattegat also told her of Ragnar. Vanya decided she wasn't that fond of the man who left his infant son in the woods to die. What kind of monster would do that? He didn't raise any of his sons properly; Bjorn left with his mother, and Ragnar abandoned his other sons. Vanya may not know his motives or him, but she felt for the Ragnarssons.

"When you are more along, we can find out if it will be a girl or boy. Or do you want it to be a surprise?" Aslaug questioned curiously, looking down at the cheerful redhead.

Vanya pursed her lips in thought before smiling. "I think I want it to be a surprise. Did you know they would be all boys?"

Aslaug nodded, seeing Hvitserk walking with Ubbe while stuffing his face till he looked like a squirrel. Ubbe shook his head at his brother's antics and lightly his him over his head, and Hvitserk hit him back. "The Seer told Ragnar he would have many sons, and they told me I would bear them. I would have like a daughter too, but the gods didn't grant me that. But now I have you, Love."

Vanya smiled proudly at the praise, feeling like she finally belonged somewhere. The Queen was more of a mother than Siflæd ever was, the Ragnarssons were like brothers to her who teased and supported her, and Helga and Floki were like an uncle and aunt. The people loved and greeted her every time they saw her, congratulating her on her baby and wishing her luck. Vanya found a home.

A child ran up to the two and held up a bunch of flowers for Vanya. The ginger beamed at the little girl and carefully took the flowers from her. "Thank you very much, Selby. They are beautiful. How are you?" She slowly crouched down to the girl's height as the cute three-year-old told her how they played at the beach, and she fell into the water. Vanya laughed at the girl's expressions and hand motions before the other children run to them too.

"Princess!" They screamed happily, asking her if the baby was ok if it kicked and if it would look like her or Ivar. "I hope it will be kissed by fire like you. I like red hair!" Vanya agreed with the seven-year-old boy with a wooden sword thinking of little Ivar's with red hair. It was a funny sight, indeed. 

The children felt afterward, and Aslaug helped Vanya stand, smirking at the lively Princess. "You are already great with children. You will be a good mother, no problem." 

They continued on their walk, walking by the shore in silence, both content with the calm atmosphere. "I would like to visit some farmers soon, thank them for all their hard work. Brynja mentioned a few farmers were having trouble with crops; I would like to see them and help them if needed."

"It is still baffling to me how much you interact with the people. Your King and Queens are not known for their kindness. At least not here." Aslaug's voice was so flat and calm; it surprised Vanya. 

"That is true, not many care about anything but the crown. But were are not in England. Here you don't sit on a throne and look down on them. You are amongst them, see them, hear them. It is only right we help them, show them we are not so different, and I am hoping it will make them forget I was a Christian once." Vanya confessed embarrassed about the last bit. She wanted to fit in with the Northmen, not be a foreigner who they have to respect cause she married their prince. 

Aslaug chuckled at the confession and took Vanya's hand in hers. "I came here pregnant while Ragnar was still married to Lagertha. She left, and Ragnar married me to legitimize Ubbe and all our other sons. I was a foreign Princess with nothing but a child in my belly, and yet, now I am the Queen of the trading center of Norway. You may be a foreign Princess, but that will change one day. The Gods always smile on brave women."

Vanya's smile was one of joy and pride; even her eyes reflected her emotions, exposing them for all to see. Aslaug was right, back home, Vanya was just a sheltered sister to the King; here she could be amongst the people, help them, find a place in the world for herself. Vanya wouldn't remain a foreigner for long; she could feel it in her bones.

The Princess returned to her chamber when the moon was high up in the sky, and one could hardly see in front of them. She and Aslaug got carried away talking and forgot to return sooner. They spoke of Aslaug's home, Götaland, of Harbard, who took away Ivar's pain and the Ragnarssons childhoods. Vanya told her about her father, negligent mother, cruel brother, and all he put her through. They comforted each other till the sun went down, and the winds grew colder.

Ivar sat at the table with his back to her, pouring a cup of mead to calm his nerves with his missing mother and wife. Vanya crept up to him and put her hands around his neck, startling him. "What are you doing?" He asked his shoulders tense coldly.

"My hands are cold." Vanya whined, grinning cheekily at his discomfort.

"I can feel that." Ivar pulled Vanya's hands away and sent her to sit down on her chair near the fire. He took her small hands into his and rubbed them hoping to warm them up faster. "How was your walk with mother?"

Vanya gave him a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through him. He loved whenever she smiled at him, especially if she smiled because of him. It made him feel loved. "She is a great woman. A little bit pushy, but at least I know where you get it from."

"I am not pushy." He grumbled, pouting as Vanya giggled at his expression. 

"Of course not." The ginger teased, standing up from the chair and walking to the bed. Ivar watched her go, putting his cup down he followed her. He untied his legs and took off his shirt while Vanya changed into a nightgown. It was no wonder that she got cold; her dress was warm. It was pink with long white sleeves and a belt tied around her waist. He complained about the last part this morning, but his mother reassured him it didn't matter. She said the babe would be fine. 

Yet Ivar still feared for the babe, what if something happened? What if Vanya lost it? Or worse, what if it was born like him? He didn't want his son or daughter to know what the life of a cripple might be like. The laughter, the loneliness, the hate you feel towards yourself. Ivar's child should be healthy, run, and play with the other children, like Ivar himself never could. So he worried, not only for the child but for Vanya herself. Aslaug was in incredible pain giving birth to him; he was the worst of the pregnancies and births she had. He didn't wish that kind of pain upon his wife. What if she didn't survive that kind of pain, bled too much, and lost her life? He couldn't carry on without her. Ivar depended upon her love, touch, smiles; he couldn't lose either of them. 

A hand on his cheek snapped him out of his thoughts; his wife stood before him in a white spotted nightgown, looking worried. "I am fine. Get in bed, let's warm you two up." So Vanya slowly crawled into bed, her back against the headboard. She moved awkwardly, not used to the growing bump. Her back and breast ached sometimes, but at least she no longer vomited, which she was very happy about. His loving wife had a way of finding the silver lining within everything, no matter what, everything had a bright side. 

She put her hand on her belly and smiled at Ivar with her brows furrowed. "Come feel." The ginger whispered, pulling his hand towards her stomach. Ivar's shaky hand moved over the bump as the babe moved, while Vanya watched his face. His mouth twitched, and she was pretty sure he was fighting a smile. 

"It's so exciting, Aslaug said it will kick next month." She beamed her hand on top of his caressing one. He looked so content sitting there next to her, feeling the life they created together move inside her. He allowed the smile to be visible, or maybe he wasn't even aware that he was smiling at all. Vanya watched him in his content state; he looked so at peace, relaxed, and calm. Her own eyes were dropping sleepily, so she laid down and fell asleep. 

Ivar couldn't sleep just yet. The babe still moved inside, and he couldn't help but feel it move. It reassured him their child was alive and alright. "You will be glorious, my child. I can feel it. You better take after your mother, her smile, her mind, and heart." He laid his head next to Vanya's stomach and watched the bump as the child stilled.

"No one will hurt either of you. You are safe here, with your family. You will be loved and protected, like no other child in history." He laid his forehead against his sleeping wife's belly and closed his eyes. "You and your mother are my everything. All I have and all I am is yours."

A hand tangled itself into his hair as he sobs shook his body. "I love you, Ivar Ragnarsson." The sixteen-year-old Viking looked up at his smiling wife, who also held tears in her eyes. He crawled up to her side and connected their lips in a sweet kiss. They rest their foreheads against each other, looking into their eyes. A sea at storm meets the sky in the spring. One corner of Vanya's lips lifts as Ivar whispers the words back to her with sincerity and vulnerability. She snorts out a laugh that Ivar mirrors. It took four months, but they finally know the truth. They love each other, and nothing can or will change that. Not Sigurd, not Silas, not their faith or anybody. They are both whole.

[workinsymmetry]

Nootka Travel Journal

My ride showed up and I loaded my things. Except for my headlamp and Nalgene. Inconsequential. A 1 litre smart water bottle like the pros. Breakfast at Green Gables. Edson, Hinton, Jasper, Mt. Robson, Valemount, all passed in a flash. Driving was fast and efficient. Clearwater for lunch, then past whatever small towns before Kamloops, Kamloops, Merritt, and finally Hope, where I write this in my wind battered tent.

Today felt...strange. Not working on a monday. The product of all that anxiety from the weeks leading here. On and off, confirmed and cancelled. I feel like I am cheating, skipping class. I hope everything at work is functioning without me. I know it is. Tristin is capable. I still feel mentally unprepared to be here, like my mind just wont shift into vacation mode. I feel like vacation mode doesn’t exist. What do I even think vacation mode is? Forgetting my normal life while by background stress dissolved and I laugh and have fun in the sun? Taking time to work out my frustrations in life? As I grow and chase a solution to this anxiety I have been fighting I wonder if there is a new angle I need to consider all together. Because this was isn’t working.

It's soothing to travel and experience all these new geographies and landscapes. Cresting a ridge to see the scrubby valleys near Merritt open up, or the dusty brown hills of Kamloops. Thinking of the unique issues and experiences of these different lives. I wonder what they feel when they're in my town. Its getting to dark to write. I will try to sleep, however the space between my head and Highway 1 is about 15 meters and the noise is insufferable. Earplugs should have been a consideration. I forget the name of the camp but at least on the other side is the Fraser River. My goal tomorrow is to find a way to sooth my mind and relax a bit. I can convince myself I deserve it.

Tuesday 23 Hope-Van-Nanaimo-Campbell-Gold River. Had a late evening and didn’t get to write. I recall loud traffic all evening but I eventually slept. Had a dream about kids harassing us in our tents. On the road early and breakfast in whatever suburb of Vancouver.Had to take some business calls: utility locators looking for keys. Seems to have worked out. Navigating Van was white knuckle. Ended up in Lonsdale Quay to meet Nick's friend. Tall blonde who works in HR for an insurance company.Toured the boardwalk. Floating houses, garbage barges, seals. Had a beer in the sun before heading out to the ferry. Was a nice ride but got slightly burnt.Regret not bringing 360 brimmed hat. Or any hat. Thankful for Buff, long har, and sunscreen.

Georges BBQ was excellent.  Drive to Campbell River felt fast.  Took wrong turn looking for Gold River resulting in a 1 h delay.  Overnight hotel in Gold River.  Stress inducing work related dreams. Thought there would be cell service in town, but there was none. I intended to set a voicemail recording to redirect calls, but that plan was cancelled.  I guess now I am truly disconnected. Upset Amanda before I left and was only able to send a simple late night message to her with hotel wifi. 

Wednesday 24 10:26 - Very poor continental breakfast.1/10.  Drive to Air Nootka was quick. Scenery is just unique enough to be interesting.  It's beautiful, but i have seen plenty of mountains lately. I miss open ranges and horizons. Luckily I am about to meet the biggest horizon there can be. We fly out shortly.

2:35 - Flight into Nootka was short and sweet. Trailhead had lush ferns and ancient giant cedars.  After 1/2 hour of hiking we were at the ocean and grey white sands opened up through the trees. The view was magnificent.  For a while I was at ease that this whole experience was worth the stress it took to get here.Missing is cold beer. The ocean wind is cooling and the sun and sand are warm. I will miss this scene.

Seeing the expansive ocean is a strange feeling.  The endless shimmering and long horizon are beautiful, however there is a sad and empty feeling to it. It needs something to compliment it. A boat or storm clouds. I feel my face getting hot. Need to make sure to stay hydrated. Tent is up and I'll have a short rest.

7:12 - We walked the beach and played in the tide.  The occasional cold drops of rain weren’t a concern then.  But sure enough, the rain came.  Slowly across the horizon like a grey wall of fog. Luckily I just finished dinner so I didn’t have to clean in the rain.  I encountered several problems with my cooking setup: I need more water holding devices OR a better water purification system. Ramen is NOT a good backpacking food. It leaves an oily mess and the smell is impossible to remove. The rice I brought requires too much waiting time and also leaves a hard to remove odour. Recommend just plain rice in the future. Tomorrow and today are feeling like non stop rain. Amanda would love it. I admire her positivity in adverse situations, especially being wet while camping. I like her a lot. I think we still need to learn more about each other and our relationship, but I think it's working. I miss her. I wish I could just say Hi. 

Thu 25 I had a terrible migraine in the night. at first it felt like a headache from being on uneven ground, but it didn’t go away when I rotated.  Agony from 1 am to 7 am when I got out and was able to get tylenol. Was good al day, but was worried about what triggered it. Must hydrate more.

  Rained all night. Not much, but enough to coat everything in fine sand. Packed up and hit the trail quite late. Luckily the weather was favorable.  Everything has dried off now. Today I saw the ocean in the way I hope it would be burned into my memory.  At least a kilometer of firm packed sand at mid tide. Low waves rumbled into the shore, small rolling crests crashing into themselves and then inching their way towards my feet as I walked.

7:57 - Sun is setting and again I am moved by the view. A small beach fire and high tide waves. I will take a photo. The ocean is vast and loud and dangerous but it's simple and I think that’s what I like the most.  It's not to bust to sit back and take it in. No concentration is needed to enjoy the scene. See the clouds. See the horizon. See the waves. Birds and boats provide little extra flavours. With zero hills, the walk has been fairly breezy.  I'm tired now, but not mountain tired.I get paid tomorrow. I have no way to prove or check, but I know I do and I like that. It's been an expensive trip. Worth it? We will see. 

Fri 26/Sat 27 Thankfully the rain didn’t start overnight or early morning while we broke camp.  The walk included large rock hopping and pebbles that would sink you to your ankles. It poured.  This walk wasnt noteworthy. The cabin was a nice feature (Nick's cousins own a cabin and invited us to stay with them). We were greeted with a fire, coffee, burgers, and french toast. Dave, Brian, and Janet were the adults. There were about 8 new high school graduates there as well. They began playing drinking monopoly. Part of me was jealous that I was stuck visiting with the "adults" but it's becoming clear that I have no place in drinking monopoly anymore. My skills have departed from drinking games. I am starting to find myself noticing the dissimilarities between myself and the youth- that is, I feel like I am departing fro being young. 

These girls are young and beautiful. One particularly, Kira, is absolutely magnificent. The boys are fresh faced, modern, handsome.  I feel like I missed out on that stage.  There is a youthful and free energy about them all that I dont think I can replicate anymore.  Perhaps it is less about direct attraction and admiration to the physical appearance and more about the attraction and jealousy of being the type of young man who would have a chance at connecting with these girls.

Our cabin hosts have been so great. Food never tasted so good as it did in the middle of this hike.  Dave takes to conversation like it's an extreme sport.  Charming, personable, funny, and great at telling stories.  Things I admire but never truly developed.  I can just sit on a stony beach and write my thoughts.  As a bonus, dave took me and Nick surfing. No waves, just paddling. But legitimate.  It was unexpected, as I always imagined my first time being in Mexico or California. But the foggy grey Pacific Northwest was incedible, and a memory I hope I hang on to. There were wedding preparations going on at the beach. A guy and a girl who were presumably there early for the wedding in a coupe days were also suiting up to go surfing. The girl, who was very fit, stripped on the beach to get into her wetsuit.  A+. 

This morning, some of the boys and girls went upriver to swim.  A quick glance revealed nudity, and again I was filled with envy for the youth and a growing up I never got to expereince. This cabin is definitely a departure from my summers when I was 18. At one point there was a ziplock bag of weed on the table. Definitely different.

11:34 - Today is sunny and warm again.  Clothes and tents are just finishing drying and we should be on our way soon. One more night on the trail, but the experience has definitely climaxed. Nightmares of work still continue. 

7:37 - I'm sitting on a rock watching the last tide roll in. The last sunset on the ocean that I will see for presumably a long while. And to be true, the actual sunset will be concealed by a cliff to the west of the campsite. We had a black bear encounter.  He was digging through a pile of seaweed seeking out sandflies.  He noticed me first and we stared for a bit.  When the guys showed up, the bear just sat there, scratching himself, unconcerened with us.  We found a way around him. Drinking water was scarce and had to be taken from a hidden little grove. It was tea coloured but seemed to be ok, if you dont think about it to much. I slipped on the logs twice trying to get to it. It was the first night with a clear sky, so I made an effort to stick my head out of the tent once it got dark.  I wish I would have been more awake because the sky was undescribable.  It has been so long since I could see the stars down to the horizon. I could immediatly see the glow of the galaxy spiral arms. Bright stars or planets that I might have been able to identify if i hadnt just woke up. There is something that Whitecourt just doesn't satisfy within my, and that could be it.  Perhaps someday I will find a place to commit my life to. But until then, I will be without home. A complete unknown. Like a rolling stone. 

July 28 8:55 - Outer tents were soaked with condensation.  For the first time, I feel how dirty my hair is and I cannot wait to scrub it. Who knows when that opportunity will be.  At least I have a cleanish set of clothes for the ride home.  My finger and toenails are getting long and dirty.  My facial hair is driving me insane. A wash and shave has never felt more appealing.  Makes me wish I didn’t cancel my anytime fitness membership. Free showers across the country. It is a couple hour hike to Friendly Cove where hopefully we taxi back without much delay. Does the taxi run on sundays? These questions plague me.  Im not sure another day out here would be welcome, just due to the unexpectedness. We will see.     

July 31 Back at home and am recounting the last few days of the trip. We did catch the water taxi back to Air Nootka and the car, but only after experiencing the white guilt served up at the church turned museum at Friendly Cove.  Starting around 7 pm we drove from Air Nootka, caught the ferry in Nanaimo from 10:45 pm to 12:50 am. Got a hotel in Hope.  The following day, drove from Hope and stopped in Kelowna.  Had a beer and watched butts for a while. Continued driving to Vernon where Nick met up with another friend who worked at Predator Ridge Resort. She was very cute.  k_duuub on instagram for anyone wondering just how cute. Continued driving to one of those popular houseboating communities. Stopped and ate. Drove to Golden where I took over driving. Cruised through the mountain parks at night, which was a bizarre experience. Non stop driving til I got home. Now I sit here contemplating if I just burn up the rest of my vacation days this week at home. Thank you for reading.