Dispatch from Howler Ambassador Ryan McInnis

Posted on April 18, 2012

As a tribe, the thing that connects us Howlers is a rare gene that acts equally as a blessing and curse. If we take the time to look trunkward up the family branch we'll more than likely find a man with a story. This guy that helped build the Alaska Pipeline or flew planes in Okinawa, maybe had a huge beard for a while or lived a love story that could bring tears to a statue. Built and lost an empire of livestock or friends, got sick but beat it, or didn't and kept swinging all the way down.

The more of his story you learn the more hairs stand up on your neck; the more your own tales start sounding less like excuses and more like a Krakauer novel. Or maybe they don't yet, but maybe years from now when your branch has become a tree of it's own and the yarns are spun at the Thanksgiving table...  Maybe then that shotgun surf trip to the Windwards, the night the boat almost and should've sank but didn't, the loves found and lost, that one last beer/wave/cast/dive, the fish that cost you more than just your job... maybe then.

But when the wheels came off, when reality's stink-eyed stare-down locked in, the bonfire of bills blazed... when that double blade of want to and have to cut it's deepest. We weren't alone.  And we're not the first, not by a long shot. God, I hope we're not the last either.  Whether conscious or just programmed by heritage and nature, we continue to fend for freedom. We find the time, the cash, the crew, the spot, the alibi…

We have a blueprint forged by men that somehow managed to make us and those before us, and they must have done something right because we all know that now it's up to us to keep living tomorrow's old stories.  To keep aimfully wandering, to keep searching for whatever it is you hope never to find, to make our grandfathers as proud of us as theirs were of them, to look at our scars and smile...

...to Heed The Call.

You can keep up with Ryan and his many salty pursuits at www.inseaworldwide.com