The man approached me with a confused look on his face. We exchange names and a handshake. “Gordie, Gordie Howley” he says. The fisherman tells me he’s lived here 35 years and never seen a surfer here before. Now excited, Gordy invites me onto his fishing boat to get a closer angle of the guys. I take him up on the offer and we bob around peacefully not saying much, as we take in the blue, green and grey.

We pulled over to the side of the road, and hauled our gear through the dense forest that snagged at our clothes. Up a hill and over a field, we walked through the low lying shrubs to the edge of a cliff. There we had a beer and rested. It wasn’t until we stood up and saw the red spots on our clothes, that that we realised we were camping in edible bearberry bushes. #spiltmilk