Many years ago I went hiking with a couple of friends out at Cape Scott. It is on the northern most, western most tip of Vancouver Island. After two days of hiking through the deepest mud I have every slogged through, we arrived at the beach that was our destination. Since it was still raining James and I attempted to erect a shelter made out of driftwood while Mark did the sensible thing; he set up the tent. Huddled under our makeshift shelter, Mark and I tried to start a fire on a rain soaked beach. We collected smaller pieces of driftwood from under the large logs, hoping those bits would be, if not dry then at least drier. Mark ingeniously whittled away the outside of the wood so we could use the drier interior as kindling. The next morning was sunny. We hiked out to the very tip of the island which requires crossing three suspension bridges. I think everyone who has ever hiked with me has learned at some point that I am terrified of bridges. Vertigo hits as soon as I walk a couple feet onto the bridge, after that it takes a great deal of concentration for me to reach the other side. And yes, I always cross in spite of my fear. I took a picture of our little shelter the morning before we set out for the tip. You can see our clothes draped on our lean-to in the hopes that they will dry. I drew this picture about week after we got back to Vancouver.
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