One more flight than I was planning to take this trip...

You know it's a good day when you begin it thinking you're going to shoot an interview and end up in a tiny puddle jumper with it's door removed, trying to hang your camera out the open side to get the perfect shot. Woke up today to an actual sunrise. Yes the sun apparently exists in Tofino in November. Not only that, but the sky was 100% clear blue. It actually wasn't going to rain today. After we shot the interview with Timmy, he had to take advantage of the perfect weather to try to get a shot for his movie where he would be filming the jetskis and boat leaving Tofino as if they were on their way out to the open water to find a place to camp on the coast. I hopped in the back of the plane did my best to get some shots, but considering the fact that it was pretty shaky and so cramped that my camera was about 3 inches from Timmy's head, it was a little difficult.

It's times like these that I even forget that I'm actually getting paid to do this. Here's some shaky footage from inside the plane:



Puddle Jumper from Andrew Pattison on Vimeo.

After that, there was nothing to do but kick back on Tofino's Long Beach, sip some beers, and watch the sun set.

Good Motherfucking Day.

Day 2

First full day in Tofino. Woke up to the Pacific Ocean 100 feet from the sliding glass door of my hotel room. Timmy still hadn't gotten here yet so there was no official work to be done and I took the opportunity to explore the beach outside my door. The weather here in November is a perpetual state of being about to rain, but temperature-wise I think it's warmer than Connecticut was when I left. The beach ended within a few minutes of walking and turned into jagged wet black rocks which I felt a little weird scaling in a pair of Vans Half Cabs.





I gotta say, this place is pretty awesome. Screw living like a starving artist (errr... filmmaker). I could totally go for being at a point in my life where I could film a huge project and then retreat to a place like this with some editing equipment and a rented cottage to hole myself up in and edit it all. I should look into booking a hitman now... locking him into a low rate in this shitty economy... with the contract being he's supposed to come after me in 10 years if I'm not living the dream like that at that point. How do you find a hitman anyway? Yellow pages? Ask Jeeves? I bet I could get a stupid low rate if I put out an add in Soldier of Fortune.

The Longest Day

This blog was born at 4:15 AM in gate 29 of Bradley Airport during a time that I had to do something in order to stay awake but I didn't feel like blowing my one episode of Freaks and Geeks on my iPod before my trip even began. I've always been told that people who travel a lot should keep a journal, but I'm never good at keeping up with those things. Maybe this time will be different. By putting it in a public forum I hope it will force me to avoid any self-indulgent introspective writing that has plagued these things since before the days of Livejournal (anyone remember Dead Journal? For those people whose lives were just that dark). So now, as I sit in a hotel room in Tofino, BC at 2:42 AM EST, 18 minutes short of a full 24 hours since I left my house for the airport this morning (and 26 hours since I switched from beer to coffee in my attempt to stay up until I left), I will try to compile at least a bit of order out of random notes and stream of consciousness that were recorded to post-its on my laptop, the notepad on my iPod, or just stored in my head when a virtual piece of scratch paper was inaccessible due to driving.

(The following is from the stickies or post-its or whatever they're called)

11/16

4:15 AM: Arrived at airport... sketchiest drive to BDL ever with the pouring rain and staying out until 3:00 AM switching from beers to very strong coffee somewhere around 1:00 AM. Jittery and couldn't see the lane lines well because of the standing water on the road and the lack of lights between the 691 intersect and Hartford. I was swerving like a drunk even though I doubt I have any alcohol in my system at this point. Would have been interesting if I got pulled over since I don't think I put my last insurance card in my glove box.

5:45 AM: From the looks of the boarding area it's going to be a pretty packed flight. I wonder if that's normal for this early on a Sunday morning. The first leg goes to Phoenix, but you could probably tell that by the fact that the entire seating section of the gate is full of people over the age of 60. Glad I got a window seat so I don't have to worry about Merle and Enid climbing over me 10 times each to empty their geriatric bladders. I hope the plane doesn't smell like old people. It amazes me how many people have Styrofoam Dunkin Donuts cups in their hands as they wait. Why do you need caffeine? I know that when I get on a 5 hour flight at 6:15 AM I want to do everything possible to pass the fuck out for as long as I can. Time to board.

As I boarded the plane I touched the outside of it with my right hand. I can't even remember how long I have been doing this, but it's probably been as long as I've been flying on my own. 16 years would be my best guess, but whenever it began, I can guarantee that I have not boarded a single plane since without placing my palm on the exterior as I walk through. At this point if I stop then it's almost definite that the first plane I get on without doing it will crash. Great way to go out too... strapped into a throne of cow flesh that has been since dyed blue. It's odd that airlines use their newly refurbished leather seats as a selling point. Animal rights issues aside, all I can think about is some sweaty fat person sitting there before me peeling their skin off the leather surface as they get up. Although the other option is an absorbent foam and cloth cushion full of numerous passengers' stale beer farts... pick your poison I guess.

The theme of today's first flight was vomit. At some point during it a little girl across the aisle and one row forward let loose her breakfast. She did it quietly enough... I wouldn't have known until I saw the stewardess have to carry away the soiled blanket. It will end up on a future flight no doubt. What was assumed to be motion sickness is probably a stomach bug as we found out later as the girl's brother managed to wait until everyone was standing in the aisle getting their bags ready to leave when he blew chunks all over the one path off the plane. Fortunately he only took his mom as collateral damage.

The second flight provided with even more fine examples of the future of our species as I had the classic crying child behind me. This was not a baby, but a child old enough to walk and talk to some small extent. Now, I can forgive the crying, I understand that the little fucker doesn't understand why his ears hurt. However, for the final 20 minutes of the flight (and a good 5 minutes of the landing) when the crying turned to an incessant scream that can only be described as the equivalent of an acapella Blood Brothers performance, that's where it gets a little ridiculous. Hey kid... did you notice how the first few times you screamed it didn't get any better? Then stop.

So onward to Vancouver where my midsize rental car awaited. I could choose between the Chrysler Sebring and the PT Cruiser. I was pretty damn close to getting the PT Cruiser because when the hell else will I ever be caught in one of those abortions of an automobile? The Sebring's odometer goes to 240 KM/Hr and I planned on using every bit of it.

The ferry over to the island combined with the flight in over the Pacific Northwest made me realize that as much as I make fun of Portland and Seattle I could really live in this place. Snow capped volcanoes, scarred coasts that are abstract formations of inlets and small islands for miles with mountains leading right up to the shore. I need to make a point to come back here soon with my bike and a tent. The ferry also made me miss working on a boat... jesus, was that really 10 years ago? Hangedup's "kicker in tow" was the perfect soundtrack for the ride. The clatters and clangs of the percussion may as well have been coming from the engine room, while the drones of the viola at times bounced between the howls of the wind in my face in the pitch black and the sounds of whatever species of whale lives in those waters. And yes, I came to that realization without the aid of any substances. On a side note, the Canadians can't make fun of our falling dollar anymore... I bought a coffee on the boat and as I searched my wallet for the change to make it an even $2.19, the cashier assured me that my 2 U.S. dollars were enough and I even got 30 cents change. Screw you Canada... if we're going down we're taking the rest of the world with us.

The biggest mistake of my day apparently was leaving my iPod car adapter in my car in Hartford. A 3 hour drive to the other end of an Island larger than some New England states and I had nothing but the few FM waves that worked. As the greatest hits of the 80s transitioned through static into Gershwin (hell yeah 11 years of classical piano training... I know my shit) and Gershwin morphed into some electro-dub, I passed two Wal Marts in a matter of 30 minutes. Even on an island that needs a 2 hour ferry ride to get to. Sometime around 10:00 PM I lost all FM radio contact while going through the mountains. There's nothing quite like hitting the "seek" button and watching the dial cycle from 88.3 to 107.something in an endless loop without even a block of static to settle on. I amused myself by pretending to be the world's greatest Chrysler Sebring rally racer on the winding steep mountain roads, the GPS unit I brought with me being my token female co-driver.
no music... ROAD PORTRAIT!

It was interesting staring at its glowing screen and seeing that on either side of the trees that lined the dark road there were bodies of water that I only knew about because of the crude 2 X 3 inch digital map.






One more thing...














Fuck Yeah!