The Diary of Diego Johns
June 5, 2026 - My name is Diego Johns. I'm a documentarian, founder, sailor, and diver (100+ dive hours). I have a wife, Delilah May Johns, and two children with one on the way. I'm writing this because I'm shipwrecked in the remote Bellablue Islands with my coleague and friend, Ben Barker. Two L's in that?
June 6, 2026 - We're adjusting to the fact that this is our forever home. Barker decided to venture further inland today—I told him this was good procurement and situational awareness protocol. I remained shelterside to guard for piracy and edit some vlogs in case internet comes back.
June 7, 2026 - Crossing fingers and toes that my message in a bottle reaches Delilah & the girls. The wind is northwesterly so should work out! We'll be okay for a good while without food, but we're reaching an important juncture with water. At sunrise I watched a white-tailed freako, D's favorite bird. I'm caught b/w trying to make this go faster and trying to live in dog years as they say, in case these are the last moments of our lives.
June 8, 2026 - I wish everyone could experience being marooned just once, if only so they could know the elation of your brilliant buddy telling you he found a hydration source. Drinking from a coconut as I speak! It's given us enough energy to keep collecting boulders for the S.O.S. we're making in the sand. This would all be so much easier with Airtable, but it's worth it to see our friends and family again.
June 9, 2026 - Bit of a weird day? While the coconut's been a godsend, both food and drink, it's not nearly the calories nor macros we need, and the sun on this archipelago is relentless (if there were a place for a pronoun I'd say "she" about the sun). We're exhausted, or so I thought. I saw Barker earlier and he was just…different. Instead of clasping my hand and going "Brother!" like usual, he gave me a jogger's nod and said Sick view of the water, right? We're both rather positive and resilient blokes, but his energy lately is like a man who's not shipwrecked at all. Almost like he has everything he needs. I don't want to say what I'm thinking—not only is it devastating if true, but unbearable if not and I'm that poor of a friend to suspect it.
June 10, 2026 - Well I was right. Barker got a book deal. As I suspected there are anthropomorphized monkeys deeper in the forest, and they're printing his memoirs about this week on a banana leaf press. His advance was the coconuts. I'm going to bed.
June 11, 2026 - Had a totally awesome day doing awesome stuff. I've been thinking maybe I don't even need to write it down! Just live life with my five senses—sort of the desert island version of going offline. Feel bad for people who have to broadcast everything. Can't relate.
June 12, 2026 - I'm writing this from the Laurence Dominique duSaint Grandboîte Hospital in Letigo. After a perilous 4:00 PM rescue by the U.S., U.K., and Letigan Coast Guard, we're back on land (or I should say linoleum). We can't quite go home yet because we're being renourished under medical watch. I've gotten to see D, our daughters and my parents, however, and it was the greatest moment of my life—even better than when I wavemogged Bry Fusilli (#1 surfer in Hartford County, MD). But the second greatest moment happened just after, when Barker broke the ice by giving me a copy of his book. I opened it and first thing I saw was the dedication:
To Diego — on an island or on the couch, being your best friend is always an adventure. ❧
