Tag: pacific northwest

Goodbye, Seattle🧡
As I look around my apartment in various states of being packed I can’t help but think: what a wonderful journey this has been.

Perspective is a really interesting thing. Day to day, you may find yourself wondering why life can be as monotonous as it is. Each day feels like a clone of the last- marked only by the bookends of sun rise and fall. It may feel like walking through a dense, uniform forest. Each breath feels much like the last, the scenery a cloned tapestry, the feel of damp needles and moss on your feet unchanging. What we fail to notice is a very faint upwards gradient in the earth- so minor in fact that it’s truly imperceptible. After enough time, we need to take a break (maybe for water, perhaps a nice lil pee, even a snacky or two). As we stop, we steal a glance behind us. Stretching back before us is that same forest. But now, it’s so much more. The crowns of what were the tallest trees at the start of our journey are now mere pinpricks on the distant horizon. Meadows, valleys, and ridges sprawl beneath us. A river- previously unnoticed- meanders through the dense greenery. Life may not hand us many of those metaphorical snack breaks but when we’re lucky enough to steal one- be sure to take it. Pay attention. Marvel at how far you’ve come! Reminisce on how the worries of teenage you are (oftentimes) now so minor and laughable that they now seem like a distant dream (nightmare?) Celebrate your resilience as an adult human navigating this fucking nyquil fever dream shitshow circus that is the world. Acknowledge your changes that have inevitably happened: “Was that mole always there? Why do my knees hurt when I bend like that now? When did I stop trying to impress strangers at the club? Shit- when did I stop going to the club altogether?” We are the most wonderful, complex, messy, irrational, heartfelt, confused, intentional, awkward creatures and we are all just trying to figure out how to figure it all out (well most of us. Not Ted Cruz. And others like him. They can fucking choke). I say this all because Seattle has taught me this. Seattle has helped me understand how to show up for myself, and others. Seattle has helped me be kind and gentle to myself- when I have been pretty brutal to myself for most of my life. Seattle has helped me find my voice- and I mean MY voice (not me trying to force the square peg of someone else’s words into the triangle hole of my mouth. Ok that’s a really awkward analogy that sounded better in my head but just go with it. Also kinda sexual? I mean, how can you type the word ‘peg’ and not giggle. Ok I’m done). Seattle has freed me from my self-imposed shackles; I’ve truly never felt better equipped to tackle life.

I moved to Seattle with some truly wild aspirations for the future. Making the drive up in 2019, car fully loaded with all of my worldly possessions and bestie by my side I knew this was the beginning of something magical and exciting. What 25 year old Matt could never foresee was the accompanying heartbreak, guilt, self-loathing, shame, and hopelessness that came along with these highs. My first year in Seattle was an absolutely wild ride: living in a house with a bunch of my best friends, partying harder than Matt has ever partied, exploring a brand new place with a huge gay and drag community, and doing it all living paycheck to paycheck. Pretty quintessential 20’s- amirite? I like having the benefit of perspective now, because I can look back on this time fondly (and shaking my head- what messes we were LMAO) while also realizing what an absolute disaster my mental health was. I was constantly questioning my worth- whether as an entertainer, as a friend, as a lover, or even just as a person. I was investing time and love into relationships that weren’t being reciprocated in the way I thought I needed. I was constantly beating myself up (often metaphorically, sometimes literally) over my appearance. And the substance use absolutely wasn’t helping. It’s strange looking back at pictures from this time because they are filled with so much joy (and don’t get me wrong- this time WAS filled with so much joy) knowing that there was also so much pain beneath the surface. I would go for long late night walks contemplating life, love, and what it would be like to disappear. I would write my thoughts in my phone’s notes app- although these are now long since lost (shoutout changing carriers from Verizon to T-Mobile and losing a bunch of my shit lolol). In some ways I felt trapped- feeling like I had no agency over my life, needing to consistently push myself to regularly perform, stay out drinking and socializing, working longer hours, burning the candle at both ends (also what a weird saying? how tf can you burn the bottom of a candle? Am I missing something? Am I dumb? (don’t answer that)). When I wasn’t performing, working, socializing or cleaning I was beyond burnt out. I knew this wasn’t sustainable, but felt like taking a step back meant defeat (gotta love trauma responses 💖). And then BAM!!! March 2020. Need I say more?

The COVID panda-panini-Panasonic lockdowns were a huge turning point for me (I mean wasn’t it for everyone? Shit was wild). While living through it was obviously terrifying (especially never stopping working outside the house- gotta love being an “essential worker” amirite?) I strangely/selfishly/with mix emotions-ly look back on this time with so much gratitude. It took the world shutting down to save my life. I moved out to my own place, stopped drinking and taking substances altogether (not entirely, but I would maybe drink wine once every 3 months?) and was forced to sit alone with my thoughts without feeling the constant FOMO I had in 2019 when I wasn’t out partying. I vividly remember hanging out at home one day playing Mario Odyssey on the Switch (banger of a game might I add) and realizing that “relevance” is a stupid, made-up, subjective concept that truly only means as much as you let it mean. What benefit is there to being “relevant” besides feeling an inflated sense of ego? It doesn’t make you a better person. It doesn’t clear your mind to aid in better decision-making. While it does often give you more soft power through a larger sphere of influence, that oftentimes comes with a foggying of your own self purpose. Being “irrelevant” can be a gift.

Coming out of lockdowns, I had a new mindset for my relationship with drag (and life overall too, but tbh drag WAS my life at this time). It was around this time that I started noticing that maybe I didn’t quite fit into this post-2020 drag scene. I would always hear the phrase “it girl” thrown around in the drag scene and lemme tell you- what an exhausting, hollow concept that is. It’s a currency whose value is determined by Instagram follower counts, number of recurring gigs, and who has the best coke plug. Many of these “it girls” had #BlackLivesMatter in their Instagram bio but would openly mock people looking for help through mutual aid requests. Or would still frequent clubs who treat black and brown patrons like trash (aka- why I don’t fuck with Queer Bar). Or would ONLY book black performers in February and not regularly the rest of the year. Being an “it girl” is just as flashy and meaningless as crypto. While I feel like this performative activism was pretty widespread in this era, the drag scene felt like a microcosm of some of the most toxic cultural characteristics. I was unhappy. But I was also luckier than most. I have white, male, cis, and pretty (hehehe AGREE WITH ME) privilege. I had the opportunity to carve out my own special space at several bars (hello Sunday Service and Sunday Fungay- we love a brunch gig). I had a roof over my head, and created/strengthened amazing friendships, and had food in my fridge, and made incredible memories. But before long, I found myself feeling similarly to 2019- aka the burnout was very real. Being older and (debatably) wiser, I realized that this time I probably (hopefully) wouldn’t have a global pandemic to help make this decision for me and I Bendelacreme’d myself from the scene (if you’re a straight and have no idea what I’m talking about, please watch the linked video). And let me just say- I never felt more free. This might sound like I don’t have love for drag, or the Seattle drag community and you couldn’t be more wrong. Drag has always- and will always- be a light for me (and tbh for everyone) in what sometimes seems to be an increasingly dark world. Seeing a bitch do a number dressed as a giant bottle of poppers performing Breathe, or a Voldemort burlesque number, or performing to Sandstorm (by Darude- of course) will ALWAYS get me cackling. Seeing a good ol’ fashioned pageant ballad will lock my eyes from start to finish. The way rhinestones shimmer under stage lights is a direct shot of serotonin to the synapses. And the performers here?? I mean c’mon- top notch. I’ll list a few below and link their instagrams- please show them some love/ go to their shows (and these are just a few!!! There are truly too many to mention):
Since leaving drag (omg this sounds like I left the Mormon church or Scientology or something LMFAO) it feels like life has truly opened up for me. I think for so long I placed these self-imposed guardrails regarding what I could/should do with my time and since turning 30 I’ve decided that’s really stupid! Life is way too fucking short to be trying to force yourself into a certain idea of what you think your life should be instead of just…..living. Photography has been the most amazing joy to rediscover after putting down the camera for so long. Cartography is back in my life after years apart (hello free online Arc-GIS account). Getting involved with community orgs has helped ground me and opened my eyes to how much need there is for mutual aid. Giving social media the big ol boot (and starting this blog!) has helped me redefine the way that I want to express myself in a digital space (and tbh I find this way much more fun. More challenging, for sure, but also more fun -I mean imagine if this whole post was an Instagram caption lmfaoooo.) Life may always be stressful, especially right now (I mean look around…fuck) but I feel at peace with myself- which is something I don’t know I’ve ever been able to honestly say. I’m lucky enough to have the most amazing community of people around me, to have some BOMB ass SSRIs, to have the ability to go to grad school to pursue life long dreams, and to have this amazing ass to help get me out of trouble hehehe (or into it 🤡)(sorry)(actually I’m not because it’s true)(if you have a problem with it then you have a problem with asses and that’s a you problem).

Ok damn not me writing a whole fucking college thesis about the last 6 years. I guess what I mean to say is: THANK YOU. To my irreplaceable friends who have helped me navigate possibly the most tumultuous period in my life. To drag for helping me fine tune my creative vision and for humbling me. To Seattle for the blacked-out Saturday nights, the hungover Sunday mornings, the miserable Mondays and the pussy poppin’ Tuesdays. And for this (absolutely not) comprehensive list of some of my favorite things:
- The way that Seattle’s crows hop around on one foot, looking absolutely adorable and goofy as fuck
- The sunset over the Olympic mountains on clear days. Nothing will ever compare to those summer evening views.
- The waves of bluebells that take over every plot of open soil in the city from April through May.
- SEATTLE DOGS (I mean that both as the fur babies and the dawgs with the cream cheese and sauteed onions. Especially the stand next to the gas station on the corner of Broadway and Pike. Yes- THAT gas station. I know its chaotic- that’s why I love it).
- Doing molly at brunches at Lost Lake at 3 in the afternoon in 2019.
- Watching sunsets over downtown from the back patio at Captain Black’s.
- The back room at Rose Temple. Both during the drag brunches cutting up with the other performers and taking shots or hanging out there out of drag…..cutting up with other performers and taking shots.
- The ball pit at Club Hellfire (RIP Club Hellfire mama misses you so much).
- Taking the Link and busses. I will always have love for the 2 and G lines ❤
- The sound of the ferry horns as they leave (and enter) port.
- Falling down the stairs from the dressing room at Kremwerk and having everyone in the club hear it.
- Living across the street from a cat cafe in the height of COVID and getting some much needed serotonin seeing the little babies hanging out in the window.
- Hearing the Fremont Bridge blast its horn every time she needed to open for a ship to pass through (and then complaining about how stupid it is that one person’s little boat holds up traffic for so many people. Ah- road rage 💕)
- Living in an ABSOLUTELY haunted house with a bunch of friends and comparing creepy ass paranormal experiences (and WATCHING a box fan turn itself off- including the dial turning- that was wild).
- How the light reflects off of the skyscrapers downtown in late afternoon onto the sidewalks, streets and other buildings- making a beautiful kaleidoscope of reflections.
- The big snowstorm in 2021 watching Capitol Hill completely shut down as people built snowmen in the middle of the street.
- Watching Shmelsie get her hair buzzed in the middle of the street in the middle of a party.
- Living above a music school and hearing kids (and adults!) in their piano lessons.
- Watching the summer sun rise over Union Street at 4:30 AM on acid with no cars or people around. Just pure, peaceful beauty.
- Writing on a car blocking us in our driveway on Halloween night with dry erase markers with Shmallen, Shmileana, Shmizzy and I think someone else? Shmeronika?
- FERNS. EVERYWHERE. They are so magical and Jurassic and fucking amazing. Watching them start to unfurl in the spring is a magical time of year.
- Spending summer days along Lake Washington at Madrona Beach (or with buns out at Denny Blaine teehee)
- Getting locked INSIDE my apartment with Shmamira for like 30 minutes in the morning because we were drunk the night before and locked the hidden second lock on my door that I never used and forgot doing it (gotta love vintage doors with all kinds of weird locks on them).
- The DOGS (furry baby version): Molly, Monty, Stevie, Yani, Skadi, Porter, Penny, Ash, Betty, Reese, Olie and Dagnar (RIP my babies ❤), Auggie, Pepper, Cheddar, Betsy and Woody (and so so so many more). Thank you for helping to keep me sane and always showing me the most unconditional, wholesome love.
- Going to R Place (may she rest in peace) multiple times a week to watch the drag shows (and because I knew at least one of the bartenders and could get cheap drinks heeheeheehee). That place was my home and I miss her every day.
- Climbing onto the roof of my apartment with neighbors and watching the sunset. The view from the Palamar’s roof was truly stunning.
When I first moved to Seattle- I marveled at how big the skyscrapers downtown were and how they rose into the sky. As I leave- the skyscrapers may look a little smaller now- but I will still continue to be filled with marvel. Thank you for everything, Seattle.

Seattle- Summer 2025
August 9, 2025

blog, life, love, mental-health, pacific northwest, photography, road trip, seattle, thoughts, travel, washington, writing
The Cascades: It’s like poppers, but nature (and minus the brain damage).

I want to start this post by telling a little story. So sit down, grab a nice cool beverage (hopefully something casual like the blood of 1000 virgins on the rocks) and enjoy:

When I first moved to Seattle, I lived in a house with 6 of my friends. The house was a big ol’ 3-story red bitch built in like 1902 that had farmhouse vibes, so we (maybe unsurprisingly) named her Red Barn. Please don’t let the innocent name fool you though- this home was truly a den of hedonism the likes of which have never been seen before. I joked that if the walls in that house could talk, they wouldn’t. They would scream. Bloody murder. Anyways!! One night after getting absolutely obliterated together on Capitol Hill, me and a few of my friends who lived there (I’ll name them Schmallen and Schmileana (and maybe Schmizzy? I can’t remember if Schmizzy was there) -we want to maintain anonymity obviously) decided to bust out the poppers, bc why the hell not. *Insert record scratch* ‘Hi- it’s me, Matt the narrator voice. For anyone who unknowingly stumbled upon this blog or has lived their whole life in Des Moines, Iowa and who doesn’t know what poppers are, they are an inhalant drug historically used within the gay community to increase sexual pleasure by inducing feelings of euphoria, muscle relaxation, and arousal. Commonly called VCR cleaner at sex stores (nice lil legal loophole used to continue selling them)- they have since been co-opted by the straights bc what else do straight ppl do, amirite? Anyways, truly deranged people will do them casually just because their lives are empty, hollow shells which require inhaling dangerous chemicals to feel anything *points at 2019 self*. Enter me and my friends. Let’s return back to the story‘. Anyyyywho, as we were very drunk, Schmallen proceeded to knock over the bottle of poppers, which proceeded to spill onto the kitchen counter and seep into the porous material underneath (it was a cheap, old laminate and there was a section peeled up which exposed the particleboard. That is where the poppers spilled). For anyone who hasn’t experienced poppers before- I cannot describe to you how intensely powerful the fumes are. Imagine nail polish remover combined with concentrated eucalyptus and bleach. Now imagine this, in an enclosed space, for days. It was HORRIBLE. *Mom and dad reading the blog- stop reading here* My asshole was loose for DAYS (this is what poppers do). *Mom and dad- feel free to continue reading* Anyways, we eventually were able to air out the kitchen and clean up the mess however the smell lingered for several days. It was like everytime you walked into that kitchen for a week after the incident you were walking into a Troye Sivan concert. I bring up this rock bottom (emphasis on the bottom) moment of my life to say that the feelings of euphoria that poppers bring are much like the feelings that nature bring me. Minus the nausea. And brain damage. And litany of other health side effects. Ok so the connection is weak at best- I reallllly just wanted to share that story on here because it cracks me up. It is something that truly trauma bonded Red Barn together for life (I love y’all so so so much #RedBarn4Life).

Onto the nature of it all!!!

Ahhh, the Cascades. Try and find a more magical corner of the globe- I dare you. Whether its the early morning light angled through whispering layers of moss dangling from the trees, or the sound of light rain dancing on several layers of fragrant evergreen needles overhead in the canopy- the mountains never disappoint. Being a mountain-born person myself (yes- Reno counts as being in the mountains) I have always felt deeply comforted with peaks rising around me. I can’t describe it, but I feel embraced by them. It’s a familiarity that feels ingrained in my DNA (lowkey think the flatness of the Midwest will be a challenge for me- I’ll report back later). Summer is especially lovely in these rugged ranges. Vibrant orange Columbia lilies line the alpine trails- brilliantly marking the path like lanterns. Undulating waves of cobalt lupines move in the wind- mimicking deep Pacific waves. Patches of fiery Indian paintbrush contrast with delicate lacy spiraea and sunny goldenrod. Vibrant lilac asters pop through underbrush- eager to show their summer best. Flamboyant columbine shoot up on narrow stalks like neon fireworks. I cannot stress how incredible the high-alpine summer blooms in the Cascades are. Each year dense carpets of life wait to spring forth from their snowy cocoon and if you’re lucky enough to witness the show, it makes the strenuous hike completely worth it. I threw a couple dollar bills at them and yelled “YASS QUEEN”. It made the other hikers on the trail uncomfortable.

But I would be amiss to not talk about the biggest baddest bitches of the Cascades themselves- the mountains! Of course you have Rainier- the one member of the friend group who is the Type A overachiever that plans everything out for the group and wears the title of ‘group leader’ like a badge of honor and is lowkey annoying as fuck. Every friend group has one (if you don’t know who it is in your group, it’s probably you.) Then there’s St. Helens, the group fire sign who is messy as fuck, loves to drink, and always talks to you at length about their current toxic relationship. There’s Adams- the silent king who knows their worth but doesn’t feel the need to walk around all haughty like Rainier does exclaiming it (but is also definitely severely depressed and doesn’t seek help- ahhh toxic masculinity). And finally there’s Baker- the fuckin’ sensitive bitchass crybaby of the group. But why should these 4 just get to stomp around like a giant while the rest of the mountains try not to get smushed under their big feet? The Goat Rocks are just as cute as Rainier, right? Mount Gilbert is just as smart as Rainier, people totally like Dragontail Peak just as much as they like Rainier, and when did it become okay for one person to be the boss of everybody because that’s not what the Cascades are about! We should totally just STAB RAINIER! *Matt Reider had cracked* (And yes- that’s a Mean Girls reference. How 2010 of me, I know). But to compare these majestic peaks to a 2004 Lindsay Lohan comedy is a disservice to them (no shade LiLo but also kinda shade). In all honesty, these mountains leave me speechless every time. Their sheer size, prominence, slope, and massive icefields are something so beautifully unique to this corner of the world. Where else can you be in the city and look out on a massive 14,000 foot tall technically active volcano? Maybe Mexico City? I mean literally, where else??

Recently I did some backcountry hiking in the Gifford Pinchot National Forest (south of Mt. Rainier National Park) and was treated to a corner of the state I’d never visited (or even heard of??) before. From Walupt Lake, trails snake deep into the ridges and valleys of the Goat Rocks wilderness. The rugged peaks of Mount Gilbert, the Goat Rocks and Old Snowy Mountain tower above the aforementioned verdant summer meadows. Massive groves of red cedar, Douglas firs, western hemlock and spruce carpet the steep mountain slopes while exposed patches of sheer rockfall are interspersed with low brush and flowering scrub. The hum of insects was constant- accompanied by the occasional squawk of an ornery magpie and the melodies of wrens. And suddenly- a loud CRACK. Something big was moving in the woods. Whipping my head to the sound I lock eyes with a black bear. An ACTUAL BEAR. This was literally my first time seeing bears in the wild (not counting the countless bears spotted at Folsom Street Fair, of course). And when I say bearS plural, I mean bearS plural. I saw two!! They were happy lil guys just scratching their backs on wood (honestly- so relatable). As cute as they may have been my ass was not going to be the idiot human who obliviously stands around snapping photos of large wildlife that is not having it. Respecting their space, I turned and walked away slowly- letting them continue to backscratch in peace. Beyond the amazing mammalian finds- there were also some awesome amphibian friends in these woods. At the end of Nannie Ridge lies the small, picturesque Sheep Lake. Along the shores of its calm waters were droves of juvenile Northwest salamanders!! These lil guys are SO CUTE. Still exhibiting the frilly gills of their not-fully-developed-awkward-middle-school form, these aquatic cuties drift lazily along, snatching bugs from the surface of the water and overall just VIBING HARD. I legitimately stood watching them for like 15 minutes just living their best life. I have never seen a salamander in the wild, and seeing so many in this lake was such a treat!! Amphibians are so misunderstood (so many people see them as gross, slimy weirdos….which hey I can relate) and unfortunately they are being decimated worldwide as they are very finely tuned to their niche habitats which climate change and water pollution are wreaking havoc on. Seeing so many in one place just happily living their lives was peak serotonin, and I’m so grateful I got to stumble across them (and in such a beautiful location too). Y’all- love on some amphibians. Find a frog in your neighborhood and hug it (please don’t actually, just metaphorically do so). Amphibians are really in danger right now and we all need to be looking out for our slimy brothers and sisters.

When I first moved to Seattle back in 2019, one of my reasons was wanting to explore the incredible natural wonders right outside of the city limits. Unfortunately for many years, I did that thing that people do where life starts lifing and I said “oh, there will be time to do all of that! I’ll do it later”. Well, flash forward 5 years later and I had done very little of that. When I took a step back from drag it opened up so many other pathways of self expression and discovery which included returning to my love of exploring the outdoors. Growing up I always hiked solo in the mountain ranges in Nevada behind my family home and would get lost in the groves of ponderosa pine, fragrant juniper and sagebrush (lowkey miss the desert too- so underrated and so beautiful). It has always been something so important to me that I unfortunately had fallen out of touch with in my 20’s. Since entering my 30’s and starting this new chapter of my life- it has been such a beautiful rediscovery of the things that make me happy. The late summer blooms. The feel of icy cold mountain stream water. The whistle of wind through the trees. I am going to miss these mountains something fierce. The Cascades have helped me find myself again, and for that I will always be so grateful to them. Oh and one last thing: PLEASE DO NOT DO POPPERS. They are truly not worth the damage they cause. Mentally, financially, emotionally, spiritually. Just don’t do it. This has been a Matt PSA.

Central Cascades – June & July 2025

July 31, 2025

cascades, gay, hiking, humor, mount-rainier, mountains, nature, pacific northwest, photography, travel, washington
Vancouver Island- It’s official. We’ve reached max level CUNTINESS.

Fever Dreamer (feat. Charlotte Day Wilson & Channel Tres) by SG Lewis x Anna Wintour by Azealia Banks x Jacques (feat. Jax Jones) by Tove Lo

Y’allllllLLLLLLLlLLLLllllLLLLLL

Have you ever seen something so unbelievably cunty that it took your breath away? Like, I’m not talking any regular level of cuntiness. I mean “a bitch stomped on your diaphragm and forced all the air out of your lungs” levels of cunt. I mean “your neck was snapped, car totaled and house leveled by a category 5 cunt storm” levels of cunt. I mean “the Earth’s magnetic poles swapped, leading to a complete degradation of our protective electromagnetic mesosphere leading to the entire planet being blasted with lethal doses of cosmic radiation coupled with a complete reversal in the direction of the mantle’s liquid magma currents causing tectonic mayhem which leads to planetwide earthquakes and an exponential increase in volcanic activity, decimating the entire planet and destroying life as we know it (besides colonies of tube worms and abyssal crustaceans which pull their nutrients from deep sea thermal vents)” LEVELS OF CUNT. Well, honey, strap in your tits because Vancouver Island delivered on EVERY 👏 SINGLE 👏 LEVEL 👏 OF 👏CUNT 👏.

Vancouver Island really delivered the goods lemme just say. She has beaches. Waterfalls. Waterfalls on beaches. Beaches bordering waterfalls that have their own beaches with their own tiny waterfalls. You think I’m kidding, but they really exist (check photos for reference (ok there’s actually not any photos of this exact thing but don’t be a fucking lame-o just roll with it)). Most of the island’s southwestern coast is a series of rugged valleys and ridges that drop dramatically to sheltered coves surrounded by steep sandstone cliffs. A dense, mystical, primordial-feeling rainforest carpets the countryside: a mossy emerald tapestry. Majestic spruce and cedars jut dramatically skyward from the coastline. In some places sharp volcanic rock outcroppings extend into the turbulent waters of the Salish Sea- creating sheltered tidepools in small parallel faultlines each containing their own micro aquatic ecosystem. It’s a place of minute details so easy to overlook: a colony of mushrooms sprouting from the underside of a rotten log, microscopic hermit crabs meandering through vibrant anemones, a tiny ephemeral wave-fed coastal waterfall cascading down a rocky shoreline. It’s a place that is so removed from day to day life- so serene- that it’s impossible not to feel introspective. Life truly is such a blessing. To be able to experience the world in all of its hermit crab glory is a reminder that long after humans have made our messy ass mark on the world, time will march forward. Waves will continue to erode coastlines. Water will continue to flow downhill. Trees will continue to sprout, and shoot skyward, and fall- sustaining their own new saplings. Nature is cyclical. Nature is eternal. Nature is CUNT.

In addition to the natural bounty of Vancouver Island, the towns are equally as captivating. Victoria (the capital of British Columbia) is like a Hallmark movie come to life. The downtown looks like a goddamn Hollywood set with it’s turn of the century brick and wood building facades. Craigdarroch Castle rises dramatically from its rocky perch to the east, its copper shingled roof gleaming warmly in the afternoon sun (this place is DEFFFOOOO haunted and I would love to see Demi Lovato go there to sing at the ghosts. Remember when Demi did that? Watch this for a lil refresher in case you didn’t (or just want the reminder hehehehe). Well guess what Demi- Pepperidge Farm remembers. As an aside- can we talk about just how rotted and sinister Pepperidge Farms is? Like, I know the old commercials were supposed to be warm and fuzzy and comforting in the way that Pepperidge Farms would remember the good ol’ times. But I always found it ominous and frankly threatening as fuck. Take for example: “Remember that one time you stole $10 from your mom? Pepperidge Farm remembers. Remember when you cheated on your spouse? Pepperidge Farm remembers. Remember that body you dumped behind the old Smith barn off of County Route 202 the summer of 97? PEPPERIDGE. FARM. REMEMBERS.” It’s giving very Santa Claus “he sees you while you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake”. Or a Furby: Cute in intention, absolutely horrifying in execution. Wow ok, I reaaaally went off on a tangent there. What were we talking about? Let’s see….Furbies….Pepperidge Farms….Demi Lovato singing to ghosts….oh right!! Craigdarroch Castle. So this absolute BEAST of a building was built in the 1890’s by coal baron Robert Dunsmuir. The real gag is that he died while the building was still under construction, so his dumbass never even got to see it completed. Something about that feels so….CORRECT. Karmic justice aside, the building is an architectural wonder with several stone turrets, numerous chimneys of different sizes, stained glass windows, beautiful deep porches and massive arched doorways. It is the real life setting of Clue. And Craigdarroch is only part of the beauty of Victoria’s Rockland neighborhood. Built on top of a prominent hill, the neighborhood features leafy streets with large, beautiful turn of the century houses of a multitude of styles (Tudor, Craftsman, and Victorian to name a few). Right around the corner from the castle is the Government House: the office and official residence of the Lieutenant Governor. Well frankly I don’t give a single fuck about them but what I will say is that the grounds are BYEEEEEWWWWTIFUL. Several acres of lush gardens wrap around the main residence (which was built in 1865 and is a stunning piece of architecture in its own right). The rhododendron gardens in particular were on full display when I visited and let me tell you, the range of colors was staggering. Rhododendrons never disappoint, and these bitches were next level. Rhododendrons are QUITE CUNT. At the end of my wanderings around Victoria I came to the Ross Bay Cemetery. I don’t know how or why I ended up here, but honestly I’m glad I did. I find that cemeteries are such a peaceful place, and sometimes I like to visit just to find solace in a quiet corner of the world and listen to birdsong. There were deer grazing on grass which at first was peaceful until I realized: if deer eat grass taking nutrients from decaying humans, do these deer develop a taste for human meat? Have these deers’ brains been reprogrammed to no longer crave grass but instead the rich, fatty meat of a human’s rump? WILL DEER NOW TURN THE TABLES AND HUNT US?? ARE WE ALL DOOMED TO DIE AT THE HANDS OF BAMBI HERSELF?? Anyways, it was a great way to exhale, walk in silence, and enjoy the peace of a warm May afternoon. Cemeteries are definitely CUNT.

In addition to Victoria is Port Renfrew, a small coastal community about 2 hours drive west of Victoria on the coastal highway. To get to Port Renfrew is a journey in of itself- the road is single lane in many places, involves hairpin turns around tight, steep mountainous corners, and has many single lane bridges. It’s an absolutely stunning drive with several magnificent vistas overlooking the Salish Sea along the route. Once you get to Port Renfrew, it’s a collection of houses and shops along the main street with view of the Port San Juan inlet. Along this main route is the Pacheedaht Gas Bar- an old school gas station with attendants who fill up your gas for you. Much of Port Renfrew is on land belonging to the Pacheedaht First Nation. Pacheedaht translates to English as “People of the Sea Foam” and considering the stunning, rugged coastal terrain in this area, it makes sense. At the gas bar I met Del, a member of the Pacheedaht. Del and I started chitchatting as one does, and they mentioned this amazing organization they do work with- United for Literacy. Doing some research into them, the organizations history has a pretty dark past (being directly involved in promoting non-Indigenous education and contributing to the colonization of Indigenous communities). That being said, from what I can tell it appears the organization has done a lot of work recognizing and reconciling for its past actions (I am by no means knowledgeable in this subject matter whatsoever so I just want to make that clear). What I can say is that my conversation with Del was really enlightening, and she is passionate about the work her specific program does with United Literacy- namely creating resources for rural First Nations’ communities educating folks on financial literacy (which, let’s be real, in this capitalist system we’ve locked ourselves into is a survival skill). Looking into United for Literacy’s programming across Canada is a really interesting deep dive for anyone interested, and I can say that Del is an absolute gem who put the biggest smile on my face. If you ever find yourself in Port Renfrew, stop by the gas bar and if you meet Del, be sure to say hi and tip her well. So the verdict? Port Renfrew is most absolutely cunt.

Del aside, perhaps the peak of my Vancouver Island experience was Botany Bay. I had met some folks earlier in the day who kept singing Botany Bay praises and I was like “yeah yeah, sure whatever ya freakz” but lemme tell y’all: the freakz did NOT LIE. Botany Bay lies 3.3 km (that’s about 2 miles for you dumb non-metric using Yankees) to the west of Port Renfrew. After walking down a short hike through a fairy tale forest, one emerges out onto a sunlit cove, ringed by wave beaten volcanic crags forming mesmerizing geometric patterns. In the late afternoon sun, the glistening pools contained within the parallel cracks in the stone shimmered like veins of crystal. Truly STONNIN’. Within each pool lived complex colonies of sea grass, pink marine ‘bushes’ (coral?? idk I didn’t go to school for sea plants), barnacles, limpets, mussels, crabs, minnows, slugs, chitons, anemones and hermit crabs. The HERMIT CRABS. They were so cute 😍😍😍 like I may want to now make it my life goal to buy a huge house just to rip out the entire floor and replace it with a giant pool filled with hermit crabs. I could watch em do crab thangs all day. There was legit one point where I saw like, 10 hermit crabs jump this other one. Although it was some low down, cowardly, dirty, Bad Girls Club style brawling I would be lying if I said I wasn’t thoroughly fucking entertained. Like they were shell stomping this bitch!! I had to leave because the sun was starting to get low in the sky, but trust I could have (and would have) stayed there all day throwing money down on my bets to win (I’m reckless and always cheer for the underdog so I would’ve placed bets on the one baddie holding it down against 10. Shout out to her- what a fucking bad bitch). Hermit crabs are confirmed CUNT.

OMG and wait how could I forget possibly the cuntiest of all cunts of Vancouver Island??? Perhaps the cuntiest in all the land?!! Let me paint a picture. I stopped off the coast highway at French Beach Provincial Park to hike down to the water and as I round the corner, under a single dramatic beam of sunlight piercing the dense canopy, illuminated dramatically as if blessed from Gaea herself who do I see? THE MOST DIVALICIOUS DIVA OF ALL. THE BADDEST BITCH THIS SIDE OF THE MISSISSIPPI AND THE SECOND BADDEST ON THE OTHER SIDE. HERE TO SLAY ANOTHER BALL. MISS BANANA SLUG HERSELF. I first found her dangling head over tail from a branch pulling the MOST gravity defying moves I’ve ever seen. Gaga diving in for the Superbowl Halftime Show could NEVER compare. Cirque du Soleil WISHES. As I watched, she contorted herself like the legendary ballroom queen that she is: dipping, voguing, strutting, serving face, mug, body, and all in custom-made Mugler. Truly COMMANDING the room. Gracefully slithering down the leaf, she directed her eyestalks toward me, letting me know that she was watching the judging panel just as intently as we were watching her. That kind of thing takes NERVE, and NERVE is what’s needed in ballroom. As I was squatting in the path getting my entire LIFE and cheering her on under my breath, several other hikers walked by. They definitely heard me whisper “you better fucking get it you bad bitch!!” and promptly walked quickly away. Some people will honestly never understand talent, and charisma, and raw star quality when they see it. Poor illiterate straights. What a sad existence. After handing Miss Slug her well deserved trophies (she cleared every category) I continued on my hike. But honestly, my mind has never left her. I hope wherever she is in the world right now (most likely sliding down the runways in Paris, or aboard a yacht in the Maldives, or potentially sipping a bottle of Veuve in a penthouse in Abu Dhabi (not Dubai, eww, that is so passé)) she is thriving and knows what an incredible impact she has made not only on me, but in the world overall. She is the queer art we need to be protecting in the world right now.

By this point I truly hope that your brain has not completely atrophied from the rot you’ve consumed here today. I can’t stress how enchanting Vancouver Island is. From the architectural smorgasbord of Victoria, to the sunlit pools and shoals of Botany Bay, Vancouver Island is somewhere truy magical in a world that sometimes feels increasingly devoid of wonder. GO I tell you. GO northwestward, to where the Salish Sea meets the sky. Where the towering cedars frame rugged hills of jade. Where according to legend, Miss Banana Slug still struts to this very day, scoring 10s across the board in every category.

Vancouver Island, Canada- May 2025

June 25, 2025

adventure, architecture, beach, british columbia, canada, forest, gay, hiking, nature, north america, ocean, pacific, pacific northwest, photography, travel, vancouver island, victoria, wildlife
British Columbia (Part 1)- aka the only British thing that isn’t complete 🗑️RUBBISH 🗑️
West Coast (The GRADES Icon Mix) by Lana del Rey -x- Get Together by Madonna -x- 4th of July (Fireworks) by Kelis

Yeah- you heard me. Britain is TRASH. RUBBISH. REFUSE. Name another culture whose only “culture” revolves solely around things stolen from others (ok I know, American culture constitutes this as well, but we’re not talking about us now ARE WE). Think about it- the only palatable food in Britain is food imported from cultures of places Britain colonized. Otherwise what is there- blood sausage? VOM 🤢🤮 English Breakfast? Oh you mean the one with beans and black pudding? Yeah, I’ll pass on that. Jellied eels? Suddenly starving to death suddenly sounds pretty amazing! Spotted dick? Never thought I would find a kind of dick I wouldn’t like, yet here we are. Congratulations, Great Britain. You made me hate dick. I hope you’re PROUD OF YOURSELF.

Oh, and its not just the food. Can we talk about the monarchy?? Like my god, you know things are rough when Prince Harry is considered to be attractive. I’m sorry, but it all just screams Hapsburg chin to me (if you don’t know what I mean by that, please read this v insightful Wikipedia article. And then donate to Wikipedia. I don’t want her to be another casualty of AI 😔) If you’re too lazy to read the article (and I don’t blame you) what I’m trying to say is INBREEDING. Like why on God’s green earth would people still find the “royal family” interesting, aspirational, or exciting? We know they’re trash, it’s only been well documented for *checks notes* 800+ years. Like when I tell you I didn’t shed a single tear when the queen croaked….

How about the museums? Notice how they’re full of looted things from other places?? And like, ONLY full of things looted from elsewhere? What homegrown British things are museum worthy? What- a ChArLeS dIcKeNs book? ShAkEsPeArE? jAcK tHe RiPpEr?? Thanks, I’d rather throw my 5 pound note into a vat of acid than pay that museum entrance fee.

I just need someone, anyone to explain to me what makes Great Britain so Great? Can we rename it Mid-Britain? How about East Ireland or South Scotland? Cause let’s be real- those are the two doing the heavy lifting here. We could even do Dwyrain Cymru (which is ‘East Wales’ in the Welsh language). Anything would be preferable. Great Britain peaked at Stonehenge, and since then it’s really just been a slow, sad decline. And this is coming from the AMERICAN (I know damn well what a fucking flaming trash heap the US is- but at least we are entertaining in our downfall). If you’re British and you feel some type of way, get your ass across the pond and come fight me. Or file a complaint here. Before I continue I would like to state that I in no way harbor any actual resentments against the British people. I only rant in jest for entertainment value. For the record: I do find the British monarchy and gastronomy repulsive on a spiritual level- but please do not sue me. I don’t have much.

*Clears throat* now that I’ve addressed the elephant in the room glares at Great Britain I’d like to move on to the actual STAR of the show- British Columbia.

What an absolute wonderland British Columbia is. While I only had the pleasure of visiting a small corner of the vast province (it is a mind boggling 364,764 square miles in area- about 4 times the size of Great Britain- how’s THAT for Great?) there was so much climatic, geologic, and biological diversity in that small slice that it felt like I traversed much farther distances. From the lush coastal rainforests of Vancouver Island, to the majestic snow capped peaks of the Canadian Cascades east of Vancouver to the semiarid buttes and mesas of Kamloops- British Columbia truly has it all.

Forming the backbone of Canada’s 3rd largest metropolitan region and primary Pacific port (Vancouver) is the Fraser River. Outside of the central city, the river valley supports lush farmland and booming exurban bedroom communities. Further east, the valley narrows as the dramatic walls of the Cascades close in gradually, coming to a point at the small town of Hope. Hope is SO CUTE. Besides the adorable name (like teehee HOPE) it is just such a cute little mountain community situated at the confluence of the Fraser and Coquihalla Rivers. The mountains truly dominate the landscape, and make Hope feel like it’s comfortably nestled in the mountains’ bosom (or- to harken back to a former post- it’s big honkers). Like a little babyyyyyy. I just wanna pinch Hope’s cheeks. Outside of town, nature truly reigns supreme. The Coquihalla Canyon snakes eastward with one of British Columbia’s main road routes clinging to its steep slopes providing a vital link to the interior. Coquihalla Canyon is Gorgalina St. James Montezuma Dupree. Heading east, you quickly hit the Great Bear Snow Shed, a covered portion of the roadway designed to keep the region’s THICC ASS winter snowpack off a portion of the road that’s hard to normally plow (it also provides much needed avalanche protection). Shortly thereafter, one summits the highest point on this portion of the road at Coquihalla Summit -where one can see some extremely scenic mountain peaks scraped smooth by glacial activity. The patterns that this glacial scraping left on the rocks is mesmerizing, so much so that I had to be reckless AF and pull off on the side of the freeway to take pictures hehehehehe (yes I was that dumbfuck American that did that whoops!)

Shortly after this point, the landscape changes drastically and says toodles to the temperate rainforest which painted the western slopes. On the eastern side- sagebrush is KING. After passing several small towns and rural areas, one arrives into perhaps the best-named city of all time- KAMLOOPS. Isn’t it fun to say? kam-LOOPS. KAM-loops. KaMlOoPs. However you decide to say it, it’s a good ass time. My favorite memory of visiting Kamloops was meeting Steve and Cathy (although she prefers Cat). They were a lovely older couple in matching trucker hats and segway scooters who pulled up next to me as I admired the river. Steve proceeded to tell me all about the history of the Coquihalla canyon, while Cat called him out on his bullshit whenever he wasn’t factually correct (I see you Cat you absolute queen. Cat you dropped this 👑). Just as soon as they appeared, they sped off into the night: two twin segway flames dancing across the pavement.

Exploring the deep alpine canyons and lushly forested ridges of the Cascades around Hope was a truly joyous experience. The Skagit River Canyon was like, the quintessential west coast mountain canyon eyegasm- featuring a rushing, glacially cold river rolling rapidly over large boulders and dislodged tree trunks (you can tell this river is highly variable- she is a Sagittarius I’m calling it now). Rising steeply in the background are the twin snowcapped Silver and Isolillock Peaks, watching over you like two big beautiful bitches. Multiple waterfalls grace the sheer cliffs of this region – the most dramatic being Bridal Veil Falls outside of Chilliwack. When I tell you this waterfall made me FEEL THINGS. I legitimately just stood there and watched the infinite rivulets of water diving dipping and ducking down the cliff face in hypnotic patterns for like, 15 minutes. Not speaking. Not taking pictures (although plenty were taken before and after, trust). Just watching. And listening. And thinking of not a single goddamn thing. Water is really a magical substance. Like, it’s simultaneously the most basic building block of most liquids and life itself, but also somehow the most miraculous, magical and mind-bending thing on the planet. Just….how? (And before some smartass in the comments says “well when two hydrogens and an oxygen love each other very much…” I ALREADY KNOW. I ALREADY WATCHED THAT PORN).

Heading west, we approach the big, bad, British Columbian bitch herself- Vancouver. With it’s metro occupying the majority of the broad delta of the Fraser River, Vancouver itself occupies a narrow isthmus between English Bay (a small bay on the Pacific) and the Burrard Inlet (a deep inlet/fjord thing that extends east about 20 miles to the city of Coquitlam). Beyond that, the metro area sprawls out with several distinct skylines. Canada is cool in that it has different zoning regulations than the US allowing for dense, tall pockets of skyline in suburban town centers. The center of several Vancouver suburban communities (Surrey, Coquitlam, Brentwood, Burquitlam, and Richmond to name a few) have skylines rivalling larger American city central business districts. It’s great because a lot of transit lines service these town centres (shoutout Vancouver SkyTrain) and they contain large commercial, residential, and civic districts. And the amount of parkland? We staaaaaaaan. Downtown Vancouver itself is pretty cool! It has some real architectural gems- especially the Marine Building (a true art deco standout- like the whole nautical themed entrance to this building is fucking nutzo), the Dominion Building (the bright red and orange coloring is so noteworthy and the partially-domed roof is really cool) and the Sun Tower (no notes- just real cool.) The central branch of the Vancouver Library is garganchhh (short for gargantuan) and was modelled after the Roman Coliseum (kind of weird inspiration for a library but….I guess it’s because you’re brutally fighting illiteracy to the death??) I think the best part of downtown Vancouver is the backdrop of steep, jagged, snowy peaks. It’s a stark backdrop to the urban tapestry of high rises, parks and city infrastructure. 10/10 would recommend no notes like literally so perfect. Perhaps too perfect. *Side eyes suspiciously*

Now finally- the urban hikez. Wowzerz.org when I tell you Vancouver has some of the most gorgeous urban natural areas this side of the Mississippi I’m only somewhat lying (because, let’s be real, it also has some of the most gorgeous natural areas on the other side of the Mississippi too). You have Lynn Canyon, Capilano Canyon, Cypress Falls, Stanley Park, and so many others. The northern rim of urban development abuts a steep shelf of mountains with several streams cascading down, creating multiple opportunities to see stunning canyons and lush ecosystems right in the middle of town. It’s really a blessing. Vancouver- you have no idea how good you have it. NO *holds up spoon threateningly* IDEA (why did I choose a spoon for my threatening action? Only Jesus knows). This shelf of mountains stretches westward, before terminating at the aptly named Horseshoe Bay- where one can catch multiple ferries to Vancouver Island (which, confusingly, does not contain any of the city of Vancouver. I swear sometimes these bitches just WANT TO confuse us. Don’t ask me who ‘bitches’ is in this scenario- I don’t know. I never know.) And here, my friends, is where I shall end this post. Catch me next time for VANCOUVER ISLAND- including:
- A huge brawl involving about 10 hermit crabs, in which they jumped one of the crabs Bad Girls Club style
- A deer which feasted on human flesh and started speaking in tongues
- The dramatic return of Steve and Cathy (sorry-Cat)
  - (Don’t get mad at me if one of these is an outright lie- you’ll have to read and see which it is hehehehe OR MAYBE ITS MULTIPLE.)
Now: Enjoy some photos!

Mainland British Columbia, Canada- May 2025
June 4, 2025

architecture, british columbia, canada, cascades, comedy, kamloops, mountains, nature, pacific northwest, photography, rainforest, travel, vancouver, waterfalls