the channel islands are a chain of national parks just a few miles out to sea in southern california. having lived in la for 5 years, i naturally head no idea these even existed. so we formed a small crew and decided to check it out.

we (me, allie, brianna, cara, donal, meredith) started the trip thursday night with heap of in-n-out, then blazed down 101. after several hours, we were nowhere close and stopped at this truck stop to freak out.

we got to ventura, ca, by about 2:30am, after driving for a solid 5 hours with a stop in san luis obispo. here we are after a few hours rest in a motel that immediately reminds you of blacklights and splattered ceiling corners.

also this morning, in a snap of poor judgement, i decide to give myself a soap-only shave, leaving only something i call the "uncle leo" (goatee and mustache). i realize after it is too late that with the shave, i will be playing the role of "pervert" all weekend.

friday am, we scrambled around for supplies, got the the marina in ventura, and took some pictures. brianna seems to be really enjoying getting in a very odd position to photograph a seagull. i don't know why you would get in this position and i don't know why you would photograph a seagull. very silly.

meanwhile, cara has declared as hers the cute sailboat with the rugged good looks that we all had our eyes on.

(there's the "uncle leo"...)

one day, i will run for public office. and when i do, this shot will become opposition research for my opponent; it will be the cover of a glossy brochure, depicting me as a flamboyant america-hating flip-flopper. to my future opponent, i say: good luck, fuckers, this site isn't indexed. vote wakerly.

here are the roommates on the boat, already making us sick with how strong their bond is.

we arrived at santa cruz island, a rather large, desert-like island. little shade, but at least a small beach. we came prepared with wetsuits, salami, and whiskey. go time.

cara, a professional lifeguard and synchronized swimmer, wastes no time giving the other casual beachgoers a demonstration of skill.

others just looked russian.

i've lost track of time, but sometime over the weekend we took a smallish hike. allie is acting like a teenager at a cinnabon.

the island was not unlike the surface of the moon.

without warning, narnie clambered surprisingly far down this slope out to nowhere. then she came back and we never discussed it again.

back at our campsite, we play games and cook stuff.

allie disappears with the camera and comes back with some strange stuff.

donal wakes up, summons food, allows himself to be photographed, and falls back asleep.

eating food and drink on night 2.

a classic "who the fuck are you" photo invasion.

a girl sandwich as we sit around acting lazy.

a dolphin escorts us back on sunday.

in conclusion, a mighty fine trip that could have been made more fine with some extra equipment (kayaks, booze, ziplines).