We have a destination.
Some runner called Buggy has a crew holed up in a town back on mainland Canada. Got his own little commune together. Apparently they move - Kari met up with them in Ohio. She has all sorts of stories. A bohemian lot in the extreme. When they're not on the move they set down roots. They pass the time taking hallucinogens, staging group sex parties and poring over the kinds of philosophy and spiritual books that would make your head spin even without the LSD and the glazing of other peoples' sweat. All the life and love and magic they can cram into what time left they have, apparently. They tried to talk Kari into joining them but the rumours that she maimed some other runner caught their attention halfway through her stay. But now they're offering us somewhere to stay, some company, and a free exchange of information. Apparently he's not a blogger - he gets his issues down via automatic writing. Tomes of it. Could be an interesting read, though the drugs and "magic" doesn't really sound like my cup of tea.
Sometimes it feels like no-one's satisfied with just the simple pleasures of a nice sit down.
Can't say I've ever heard of this Buggy before. No blog but at the very least, he seems like enough of a character to have a reputation. Has anyone else heard of him before at all?
Anyway, it's a shame we're leaving here. Vancouver Island is really nice, especially this time of year. It makes me wish I had my camera, I could show you guys. But instead, we're headed for some little ski town called Revelstoke, and the hippie collective that waits for us. Kari better be right about this, or it'll be a massive waste of time.