It's very simple - he rows a lot. In the summer he commutes from Gabriola Island to his work at the Pacific Biological Station in Departure Bay.Colin's first post is a long one but well worth reading right through. He covers his childhood exploring his local bay with his kid brother, the joys of fishing when he was finally deemed experienced enough to venture out of the bay, how Bus Bailey came into his possession, the history of handlining and the types of water he experiences:
Waves and wind, or the lack of them, dominate the daily conditions. As with snow to the Inuit, they come to me in a myriad of forms and shapes, many of which I’ve come to describe with words and names of my own. Often in the early morning, the waves are short, slurppy and choppy as the north-west wind resists the tide moving along Gabriola’s exposed shore. Sometimes they make for what I call “lively water,” with following waves on the starboard quarter - slightly countered from a pressing south-east breeze. Just occasionally, there is a flat calm, with no discernable movement showing on the slick and glimmering surface, save the inevitable wash from a distant boat or a ghosting zepher-breath.It's great stuff.
I like the lively water best as I slowly work my body and the Bus into an intuitive all-connected movement through the water. It’s the ‘magic zone’ that I search for. The one that has me smiling – even breaking out in laughter between gasps for air.
