Please accept my sincerestest apologies for the lack of derring-do relayed by me personally. Let it hereby be known that we are about to depart this vale of tears laden to the gills with a funny-looking 14' box-over-cab V8 diesel truck, sportin' a new roof rack and some cool RV windows, gnarly new shit-kicking tires on the back dualies, a spare AND a spare spare, two heavy duty jacks, a passel of cookware and drygoods, three kayaks, two motorcycles, long and short surfboards, a collection of lawnchairs unrivaled this side of Yakima and a motley assortment of cookbooks.

From the frigid north to southern Baja, our adventure awaits us and I promise to bring home stories of fun as personally experienced by me, your humble narrator. Our destination lies, as often happens, at the whim of the road but will either find us on the Pacific Coast seeking the richest English buccaneer ever to go missing or simply holing up in a remote cove reachable only by running 40 miles up a narrow coastal road at low tide (the road, errr, "goes away" at high tide!). Some spearfishing is in order no matter what. In a hammerhead shark breeding ground.

Much love and adios!