tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74940648570107498882024-03-05T10:49:46.019-08:00With the wind and seaUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-72635593513978431102010-03-11T11:07:00.000-08:002010-03-11T13:31:53.023-08:00Closed wallet, opened mind<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lfr8X1yQI/AAAAAAAAC6s/rcn8TrdrnDk/s1600-h/Sahara+704.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZFY2R_M11W8cwCSb1bylZtGUt-ExBVD4ef-y8DE5PuVMKjCDvK51Q3Y_hjPBtxjA89KOASiJrt-BdOx2e_fmTmSKz16eaewI8AgupI_Q4d_g-BqsZ7yNiddjE_mFIX-uGVQgERfdhD0Q/s1600-h/Sahara+036.jpg"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03NpkoxSHb65GXVLtUkGxO1JbXWhm21cykrPyXdeG31SdrhoCQDl-2bkID9DyIG4IzW0qvCffdwP3Wod7UHIUNCOUfVcDuses6ZCKnDNxzTbEnoRZDF03NdMElZxU5s9RX3xam_UjpXg/s1600-h/Sahara+917.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh03NpkoxSHb65GXVLtUkGxO1JbXWhm21cykrPyXdeG31SdrhoCQDl-2bkID9DyIG4IzW0qvCffdwP3Wod7UHIUNCOUfVcDuses6ZCKnDNxzTbEnoRZDF03NdMElZxU5s9RX3xam_UjpXg/s400/Sahara+917.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447487831434951922" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lKO_oo5II/AAAAAAAAC3Y/F2fsgaZ2B6c/s1600-h/Sahara+935.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lKO_oo5II/AAAAAAAAC3Y/F2fsgaZ2B6c/s320/Sahara+935.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5447466845741835394" /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In went the debit card and out came a train ticket from <st1:city st="on">Birmingham</st1:city> to <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Manchester</st1:city></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Easy enough, so when is the train? <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The reader board was blank, the tellers long gone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Haha <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">England</st1:place></st1:country-region>, tricky machine, the last train had left two hours before.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There goes fifty dollars down the tube <span style="font-family:Wingdings;mso-ascii-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-hansi-font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-char-type:symbol; mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings;"><span style="mso-char-type:symbol;mso-symbol-font-family:Wingdings;">J</span></span>. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Wrapped in a sleeping bag, sitting on the heater wearing a wet suit top and all my clothes, the wind sucked the heat out of hunched over shoulders as I rode from Birmingham to Manchester to catch the next leg of this budget airline adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The passenger window was stuck halfway down, or half way up, depending on how you look at life. It was zero degrees at midnight and the meter was running at two hundred and twenty bucks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I love <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">England</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I love it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They love me to. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Eight hours in <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">England</st1:country-region></st1:place> is one way to spend three hundred bucks.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lSUXiaQJI/AAAAAAAAC30/fFRwqeKQXI4/s320/Sahara+136.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The story of three hundred bucks in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region> is more than I will ever be able to capture. Herman Hesse wrote a brilliant little book called the “Journey East” that out lines a grand adventure, but describes the limits of putting life down on paper.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He couldn’t write about it, because his words kept reducing the memories, leaving out details, leaving out magic moments, smells, fears, and the synchronicities that come with travel.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The journey was too grand and the task of capturing it would take not only his life but the lives of many more talented than him self.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lKOiUpqCI/AAAAAAAAC3Q/DsuRRaEiNto/s320/Sahara+216.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I am embarrassed to say that I don’t have any close Muslim friends.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I have never spent time in a Muslim country, and I was expecting to be resented for my American roots, and for once uncomfortable in Khakis shorts, and flip flops.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was even timid about flying my American flag while sailing along the rural coastline in case someone decided to shoot at the boat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It might seem silly but I have embedded images from the Mahgreb of Algerian fundamentalist; training suicide bombers, and plotting against the spread of western culture.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>All my experience with <st1:place st="on">North Africa</st1:place>, and other Muslim regions have been exclusively through television.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So for the first time I got to take my own pictures and experience what it means to be a foreigner on Muslim soil.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lSW_6l5-I/AAAAAAAAC4E/Gpbl9P2tOL8/s320/Sahara+910.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"> It was an amazing entry for me, because my previous associations were triggering fear and influencing my interpretations of the people even though <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region> is westernized, European, fully developed in parts and by no means extreme. Its <st1:place st="on">Europe</st1:place>. Yet the traditional garb and veiled faces put me on edge. The few traditional outfits that I passed made me feel like I was surrounded by militants, and that I should hide my identity.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It is amazing how strong and how deep ones own propaganda can rest.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA35y2gg3d7-SwbAuzsAnt4gRiCTBudbS6wVuBD4p_hULHakGeExc_mFnFuMNVRHA_HO8jnJPXcOlPeHVUq84xOMYRhljbpt0cFhrBvADPB8FYwi2VG-x28Vj13hLuFM6iyolIIGrDSmc/s320/Monastir+189.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I filled a day bag and grabbed my camera.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wanted to cross <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region> with out the awareness of valuable items to loose. Finding a map at a post card stand, I put an X on the map where each post card image was taken and sought to go take my own pictures in each of those places, and to do it all with three hundred bucks, to match my time in England.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Easily I managed to see most the places on the postcard stand in three weeks, but mid way I gave up because the places lost their importance.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The places on the post cards offered nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lARauCatI/AAAAAAAAC2Y/z8pIhvRXnek/s320/Sahara+014.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>They them selves were places you could buy more post cards, or T-shirts, get haggled and pay foreigner prices.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So in-fact you can avoid them all, and you wont miss anything.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Who cares about a bunch of date palms, or a ten foot waterfall.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It’s the emperors new robe, yet package tourists file in by the hundreds to see a bunch of contrived crap that is selected as <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Tunisia</st1:country-region></st1:place>’s experience.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The beauty of <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region>, I feel, are the remnants, the bits of its culture that have survived a battering by western culture.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lARpkJyvI/AAAAAAAAC2g/wmQ6ezDScpo/s320/Sahara+033.jpg" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The current generation; the old ways, the ancient skills, the traditions, the hand made rugs, the faith, the hospitality, the food, the ceremonial way of eating together out of one bowl on the floor.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Its all that stuff you cant see because someone is waving a cheap ticket for an air-conditioned bus and a ten minute camel ride.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5ldUPT7VTI/AAAAAAAAC50/2QesAB6BMyA/s400/Sahara+693.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> <img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lKOaBx2EI/AAAAAAAAC3I/03lJf8hI65k/s320/First+109.jpg" /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">What I discovered by setting out alone into small towns in the south of <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region>, is that if you are foreign, you will undoubtedly be invited to peoples homes; fed, offered a bed for rest and given everything the people have. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5ldUxDLsfI/AAAAAAAAC6E/uCB4XGqtMnQ/s400/Sahara+932.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You will also bump into others, who are traveling in the same way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So you wont be alone for long.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I don’t speak French or Arabic, but I was lead by the hands of children back to their welcoming families, fed an elaborate meal, my stinky shoes removed and given a bed for rest while the mother wove a carpet by henna tattooed hands beside me as I slept.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Staring at all of this, and crying inside from the unimaginable kindness is hard to describe.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeDHcPHUeLgccngaHuRx4JcDlJUbhaVPDZVrXEbcDdLuuT4MLUlbcebso7xpiicBK0ewZjuLp1q9Dqa8ganv71lkrNG3tSYSC0Qi7f50qXKF4rKtjM_JTXglx8lh3VlLdH_ocKYMh3T8o/s320/Sahara+066.jpg" /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">One day one after missing a train to the first postcard destination, I was stranded at a lonely train stop for twelve hours.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My watch had been on <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cape Verde</st1:place></st1:country-region> time for three days and I hadn’t realized it. One moment alone and a boy my age asked me something in Arabic, or French probably, and I said “weah” and he lead me into the train conductors office where two official looking dudes sat watching the train grid on a board with little lights and red and green buttons.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They smiled and sat me behind the desk in one of their chairs and asked me if I wanted a coffee.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“Weah”.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The phones would ring, trains would pass, and each of them would leave to do little jobs through out the day as I melted into the scean.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I kept that seat in the middle the whole time. We broke some bread and ate chocolate and cheese. A man on a donkey lead cart arrived after the sun set and delivered fresh local dates. Long periods of silence filled the time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Periods of silence are part of life in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region> and I was anxiously trying to fill them with a pocket full of party tricks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We collected almonds from a tree outside and filled an hour cracking them with a salvaged block of timber. They wrapped up a pile of the nuts in a newspaper and put them in my bag for the journey.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>One hour was passed teaching knots with the cord from a cell phone charger.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We joked around as much as we could and they asked about all the famous people they knew from <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">America</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Little attempts at communication, elaborate gestures, and laughter helped to break the silence, that only I was aware of.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Some times you can’t talk but you exchange a connection with certain people and this was one of those magic moments.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The main conductor, father of ten children had a smile that beamed when he listened, when he talked and even when he stared at the wall. He smiled at life. He told me about all of his sons and daughters. With hands, faces, and basic words we went on and on about the difference between <st1:country-region st="on">America</st1:country-region> and <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When my train finally came I felt like staying. I felt that I had found what I was looking for.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lKOMfDrMI/AAAAAAAAC3A/nDIPipT0xdg/s320/Sahara+002.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>They asked me to comeback and stay on my return journey. They were officers, and I was a casual traveler, we were now friends and we hugged at the end.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They three waved till I was out of site and I unpacked my satchel of almonds and laid them out on a seat in front, beaming with inspiration, but with the thought “these aren’t just almonds, they have a story and I’ll never be able to tell it.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I tried to take a picture of the almonds in a way but my photos just couldn’t tell the story either.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The picture couldn’t match my warm feeling and overwhelming inspiration, it was that feeling after telling a story, seeing the blank faces, and saying, well… “you had to be there”.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lbwXTcqAI/AAAAAAAAC5g/3PuIMjCu6E0/s320/Sahara+223.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">In a 4x4 headed out to some Tunisian Oasis, post card number three, I sat next to an Egyptian man with a black cloth wrapped around his head and over his shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His wife wore a cloth over her hair and her hands were elaborately tattooed with henna ink.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They spoke in Arabic and we didn’t speak.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I didn’t understand his dark eyes and furled brow.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I played with my new camera.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Herded together out to the first vista point, I could tell they wanted a picture of the two of them so I gestured for the camera and wife said “yes, please that would be great, thank you!” She smiled brightly with her perfect English, and confident eye contact.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They were teachers in <st1:country-region st="on">Kuwait</st1:country-region>, on their honeymoon in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region>, where she was born.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They transformed.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>My interpretation transformed. Instantly they were playful and he was playful like a child. I didn’t understand their dress and had prejudged them and had been closed off.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We began to run around in the canyons with a new curiosity, trying to take silly profile pictures for Facebook. In one of the canyons a Tunisian guide gave her a stone that he broke in half revealing purple crystals inside that I thought was the most amazing thing, so she gave it to me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lSS6pQhVI/AAAAAAAAC3s/l7t5BdJ0tC8/s320/Sahara+083.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>I asked all my stupid questions, because I really didn’t know. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>“What does ‘Salam Alekim’ mean?” and is it ok for me to say it as a foreigner?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It means “Peace be with you”, and Tunisians would be thrilled to hear it from foreigners.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And “can I take pictures of elderly Muslim men still wearing costumes from the Star wars trilogy, or the women with Tattooed faces with out stealing their souls?” -Ask first.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5leH8t3DAI/AAAAAAAAC6Q/Ske2MksoIAA/s400/Sahara+028.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lSUvq4GHI/AAAAAAAAC38/p8aXBgZViDo/s320/Sahara+525.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We had a lot of fun and after two days, and they asked me to come back to her family’s house, but I had to decline only because they were on their honeymoon, and again receiving such hospitality was uncomfortable for me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was filled again with inspiration and warmth.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was relieved to answer those basic questions. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had made friends.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I learned about a Henna Tattoo ritual, and a few Arabic phrases to warm the path in front of me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was re-associating the images of Muslim culture, the clothes and the language, and they felt warm and welcoming to me now.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>For me soon as I spent more time in the desert region I would learn the utility of a veiled face, as the sand, sun and heat penetrates everything, two yards of cloth can create a nice little barrier to any weather, and I now fancy it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> <img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLRgv0TXs5wObQsVZJXY_jzBOUh-S69DLE6IcuSXPzCNuUVe-MvJprVQP1mrGOd0SUCR5Wljj0bY9COllKJXUnpA0Nla5KBwrTynSfmnIgbx_mwvOqFQwjgnOM0frpKleiIcoKz14JVM/s320/Sahara+934.jpg" /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> </span>Next postcard was a gateway town to the desert.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had arranged a night stay with a local, via couchsurfer.org and planned to meet at the bus station.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I had met an American backpacker along the way and we chose to travel together for a few days and maybe venture into the dessert.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMvf0Qn9h4DhoWxO_ZmiUWdiCSZ1KGs-hHfgoD40iBZ-rJkq_vPzHcf2l3awGgSGyf2wfYkuadKQBn9I-b9T4IuLiAMYYZZXsR8L4LtdyQLNyWDfoFvC-JdZELDScByltPFZVTPbpewE4/s320/Sahara+918.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Mansour, a French expatriate, renamed after converting to Islam, met us at the bus station and weaved us through dirt roads and shanty cinderblock houses to a painted metal door with a ceramic plate glued to the center of it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>His house was more than we expected; a courtyard with trees, a ceramics studio, one shy turtle, green grass and a street cat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lZLjXdt1I/AAAAAAAAC5M/aNAgyjzvyqQ/s320/Sahara+595.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>Our room had two nice beds and a beautiful hand woven carpet.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We were in for an adventure.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He fixed us tea, fed us, then strolled us around town, shaking hands and smiling with most of the people who we passed.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We wanted to go to the desert, and he knew the Bedouin guides that would take us.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He arranged for us to go camping in two days time.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We thought, well ok, that is a ways away, what the heck are we supposed to do until then?<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> <img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5k_h1ry_gI/AAAAAAAAC1o/hzEQ4chkawM/s320/Sahara+933.jpg" /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The adventure at hand became exploring life in a small desert town through the life of a man who has been traveling continuously for thirty years.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lZKUBi_nI/AAAAAAAAC40/TrmVUTpijtg/s320/Sahara+942.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>Mansour has sixty years and mysteriously possesses more energy, mental clarity, curiosity and refined skills than I have ever known.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He rose with the sun, skipped around like a teenager and always gave you his complete attention. If I were an artist with words I could paint a picture of him that would share an angle of who this guy is.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Books could be written on his life, but his wisdom, where do you begin, how do you communicate his grasp on life’s lessons, his proximity to enlightenment.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixQgxsPq-fosKzM2PPiCLbi6_DfPu1QmHzBEjObKCASptsVNvylq4qr2P4irTXqAt-IjbOeo96sR2CKzYQc8bUBAUOBB9Rn3n9VzySc7KjyNUUGRAwmABtrGuCLtdRQIR6bl5Z8GKvm58/s320/Sahara+927.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I can talk about him because my words will be read as “weird or mystic” and pass right by. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A life teacher, a guide, a magician is out in the southern half of <st1:country-region st="on">Tunisia</st1:country-region> at the gate of the real <st1:place st="on">Sahara</st1:place>, and if you go and you are ready you can find him.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>He is the cliché catch phrase “where one looks at the desert and sees nothing, there is everything.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I got scared because everything was there and I had to look no further.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wasn’t ready.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Also I was overwhelmed by hospitality, without a means to reciprocate. So after three weeks I had to go find my boat again.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lWEOeWEeI/AAAAAAAAC4g/WCfKSOrptyI/s400/Sahara+901.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Monsour brings life to clay, capturing emotions and people in the faces of his sculptures with the stroke of a brush.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was puzzled by this guy out here in the desert, making amazing sculptures about as far away as you could possibly be from someone who would buy them. I spent a few days in his town and had some amazing experiences before and after we set out for the dunes. That’s another story.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lWDt1oOjI/AAAAAAAAC4Q/mcRjJzEyHDQ/s400/Sahara+424.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Tunisia</st1:country-region></st1:place>, is filled with Cafes that are filled exclusively with men who sit all day drinking the same tiny cup of coffee and staring at passers by. May be they are waiting to be invited home for cuscus but it is a phenomenon that I do not understand.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZFY2R_M11W8cwCSb1bylZtGUt-ExBVD4ef-y8DE5PuVMKjCDvK51Q3Y_hjPBtxjA89KOASiJrt-BdOx2e_fmTmSKz16eaewI8AgupI_Q4d_g-BqsZ7yNiddjE_mFIX-uGVQgERfdhD0Q/s320/Sahara+036.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>The women are working, cleaning house, feeding the family, and the guys sit unemployed at the café. So I tried it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Five mind numbing minutes passed and someone sat next to me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We chatted for a few moments, and another guy sat.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Soon we had five guys and we were laughing, smoking, and drinking tea.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One of the guys asked me to come back to his house for lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I declined, because I couldn’t I was weary of a scam, and besides I had only sat for fifteen minutes and I wanted to see how long I could go before I went crazy.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There was a festival going that day and we made plans to attend it together.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So he left.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A moment passed and a second guy asked me to go to his house for cuscus.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I declined again and he strolled off.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then number three guy asked and I caved.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lbxJy_fhI/AAAAAAAAC5o/rQsFIwNeh-A/s320/Sahara+573.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>We walked for fifteen minutes into another neighborhood on the other side of town.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Again a metal door with a nice courtyard.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A beautiful blanket laid out and a place was prepared for only me.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A large hand painted dish was brought out full of vegetables and cuscus.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Then a plate of olives, bread, some sauces and then a bowl of oranges, dates and a pot of tea.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I was being served like a king, except this was the fourth day in the same clothes and my hair stood straight up supported by dust and grease. Suddenly I realized that everyone from the café was there.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The four others from my table were all brothers in fact and they lived in the house including the waiter and barista.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>There were six brothers and they had brought a stranger home. One brother, who spoke some English, sat with me and ate until I was full and a mattress was brought out with a pillow and I was instructed to take a nap.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The mother then came out, with beautiful henna hands and began to weave a carpet on a vertical loom in front of me as I slept.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lWD7K0DKI/AAAAAAAAC4Y/P690TC0Fju0/s400/Sahara+575.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>I was broken.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Imagine a traveler, at a bus stop café, sitting, lingering, trying to stretch out a cup of coffee in soiled forth day clothes. Here, the kids bring them home, feed them, and offer them a bed in the shade within their family walls to find rest. I can’t imagine that happening at home.<img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lZKKgqYJI/AAAAAAAAC4s/1i8dQrEqbN4/s320/Sahara+574.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"> Again, I was humbled, filled with hope and racing with the need to share the experience.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I needed to tell people about these people.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>To tell them to skip the museums, skip the postcard racks and seek an experience with these people.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count:1"> <img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lAR9vEjLI/AAAAAAAAC2o/bbq9STk_pr8/s320/Sahara+047.jpg" /> </span>It happens when you are alone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It happens when you are lost or already late.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It happens when you take a wrong turn or miss your train.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region> is like any-other place.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The people are the experience. And you cant buy it, you cant prepare it or plan it. The path does not exist after you, it was created by you, your blunders, and your vulnerable ness that people observed and responded to with kindness.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lfr8X1yQI/AAAAAAAAC6s/rcn8TrdrnDk/s320/Sahara+704.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">I meticulously recorded the money spent on this trip.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A planned three day trip, turned into over three weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Paying for accommodation on one occasion and quickly falling far behind in the cost of food due to the tremendous hospitality to strangers in the South of Tunisia.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I spent five hundred dinar in three weeks. That is more than three hundred fifty <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">US</st1:place></st1:country-region>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>A month’s local wages, but I went all out.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5k_hDcf_pI/AAAAAAAAC1Y/qnUcZrQH0vs/s320/Sahara+556.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>For one of those weeks I had two dessert porters, three camels, and a trek around the Saharan desert. Then on the last day, National Geographic was filming a documentary and I was paid 80 Dinar for five shots playing a “westerner” trying to escape an Iraqi prison in the Gulf War. </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5leIUbdlpI/AAAAAAAAC6Y/lysuX6-b0DA/s400/Sahara+840.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">So I was back up fifty US.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So that’s what three hundred bucks could get you in <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Tunisia</st1:place></st1:country-region> and the myth that travel cannot be afforded, is busted. Its not in the guide books and its not for sale, it begins when you close that wallet and open your mind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The cost is what you give up back at home, the people you miss, your family, the cultural holidays, the sense of community etc.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5k_hYpGrOI/AAAAAAAAC1g/hMFSRzHfXZY/s320/Sahara+931.jpg" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Being vulnerable, sharing what you have, following strangers down side streets and trusting people can get you around the world. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I continually meet people who are doing more, seeing more, with significantly less.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S5lbv2nBxMI/AAAAAAAAC5Y/xbGb9RRauAQ/s320/Sahara+329.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com76tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-39403555053142861752010-02-05T04:38:00.000-08:002010-02-05T11:28:28.944-08:00Open Ocean<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2xto4xtz_I/AAAAAAAACvA/koYQdAxGSmI/s1600-h/P1080590.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2xto4xtz_I/AAAAAAAACvA/koYQdAxGSmI/s320/P1080590.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434839399532449778" /></a><br /><br /><br />Meandering back through the Spanish islands we set off for the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placetype st="on">Cape</st1:placetype> <st1:placename st="on">Verdes</st1:placename></st1:place>.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>After leaving the Canary- land/sea breeze we motored for a hundred miles to reach the trade winds.<div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wWSolI3UI/AAAAAAAACuU/pBpwKE45KZg/s400/P1080602.JPG" /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We had an epic crossing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The new wind vane “The Eskimo” worked magically and the electric auto pilot “Captain Dan / Meggie” worked sweet when the wind was to light for the Vane.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2xtnw2hWqI/AAAAAAAACuo/IwoZy6KMgH4/s320/P1000091.JPG" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We installed an 80 watt solar panel earlier on our "boys trip" so cold beer and music could be enjoyed along the way.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The conditions were ideal for the self steering mechanisms and they held out for the whole eight days of following wind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So what did we do?</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2xtoYkgpqI/AAAAAAAACuw/X2x9xtnAFqM/s320/P1000039.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wSnK2au5I/AAAAAAAACsc/etOeK0t2NmY/s320/Ludo+298.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2qx3goTViYN9LaV8_j9rLTCZghQ_PLhtyDahOj_NF4qwFMDxY7PCpjhqlRh_bMdjr-REbdAWoNbpm6-R0tDlCioIrTuVDQ3tVORFYw55cDgSN_aci4EQsPBVbaeYSu8Y73T7rcqy85Hw/s320/Ludo+295.jpg" /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We made it look easy. I read three books about sailing around the world, and learned to splice cored braided line. Why not? </p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wVdODcBoI/AAAAAAAACtk/_bpFNGz9E_Q/s320/P1080018.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal">We played card games (BS), studied Spanish and French, caught fish, let fish go, practiced using a sextant, looked at the map of the world and contemplated all the options.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wWFAlXTQI/AAAAAAAACt8/OBkMnTDnaBA/s320/P1070910.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>In fact the primary activity became contemplating the endless number of scenarios, studying wind patterns and fueling our endless ambitions. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wSl24mBpI/AAAAAAAACsE/q0H7PgwVuws/s320/last+073.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We had a two scheduled parties, one for the “halfway mark” and one for the Double Bruyn’s 10,000 mile.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wSlXwHhbI/AAAAAAAACr8/OmV0vQpsu4c/s320/Ludo+145.jpg" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>Then there was that spontaneous night when we wore costumes, brought out the disco ball, got completely fueled on rum (thanks Monsie), sang songs and danced the night away under the stars and moon light, then slept all the next day. Someone coherent stayed with "The Eskimo" at all times, thanks Ludo!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wVczw0NWI/AAAAAAAACtc/F0Q0m5ixWyU/s320/P1000087.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>After steering us towards Orion's belt for a wonderful detour Ritchie slept for two days, but he was the champion of entertainment that night and has become my new idol.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wS97eeLRI/AAAAAAAACsk/Gv5JBEYi6hg/s400/Ludo+300.jpg" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We sailed at a leisurely pace. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifoqsXI3lJ6Fed_Z96G4nF5PW599PXw3wjGuKB3Bjjnp-2fAPKor-DyDShgG65taxntjTV4wlTrwosQperp4YgLXqiSyS6PKXdpxTAAIffkCCoxRRQrRFNR0_tdipvPcG8JWdWU67zzw0/s320/P1000035.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal">It’s wonderful to be out in the ocean in a warm climate with consistent wind and swell.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMpDaxEOtFbIxruI41CSffjEdpLa7w33w6dl9PCAN7WNWQ8m7D9-L0nhpKCY_dDyU7MDBN32zEdlp6Qyi8Rm5j7CZ_xkXEKD-RxWxoFXViu1CwIuHQEA-UeQgake9cTRwjiSTkBA3w7Zc/s320/P1000031.JPG" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>The conditions were ideal. There was no rush to end the experience.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> <img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wUTXicnNI/AAAAAAAACtA/NFKggjb-gkE/s320/P1000034.JPG" /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>We found a rhythm. </p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wWFYdaLQI/AAAAAAAACuE/dJEg8Ms0Mvc/s320/P1080550.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sailing under a reefed main and no foresail, so that the boat stayed dry and reasonably level.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wVdeqc71I/AAAAAAAACts/JzZ0xnjVXwI/s320/P1080499.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>We relaxed from the normal worries of coastal sailing.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wWFvVSDkI/AAAAAAAACuM/Mm30hYACvbE/s320/P1080565.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>Out in the Ocean, where the weather is stable there are no rocks to hit, seldom boats to collide with, and once she’s trimmed properly she’ll sail her self.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So keeping watch means: just watching.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wUS63DsYI/AAAAAAAACsw/Wl7zwYjOB70/s320/P1000029.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>Watch the wind power the boat in that magical way, watch the wind vane mysteriously gyroscope our helm straight, watch ones surroundings for that new depth of awareness.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJsWikHY4MBuw4RJkOhcPbOtEzL6H9ai3-KJ0pnua0xPabqLV0CqiS831ghBfxdfgiWz-kl_EpIjJm3fxnrJS-3yAOMuo0GW_LT-xUjhU8Swu2AP8Cyyzvuf-TnliXMOHroUG_-Daj_k/s320/P1000073.JPG" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal">That first glance out to sea seems void and abysmal. What can be described as "mind numbing" begins to show you things, and becomes more and more interactive.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>When you are steering you can watch the GPS to hold your course.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You can also watch a compass.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You can also watch a little piece of string and its angle to the wind.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>You can keep the wind on the back of your neck, or the side of your cheek depending on how you sit. You can note the angle of the boat to the swell and its motion.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> If anything changes, goes wrong or</span> you loose your bearings, you can refer back to any of these.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wVcOmyR3I/AAAAAAAACtU/fQ5gIAom1jE/s320/P1000037.JPG" /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">We played around with the sextant.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> We found our selves within one hundred miles of where the GPS put us. </span>It’s fun to begin to relate the map of stars in the sky to the way we use maps of land.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The constellations pass like features on the landscape.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They also break the night up just as the sun breaks up the day.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Orion’s Belt arcs across as the night goes by. It rises as the sun sets, it peaks in the sky then sets to the west. We broke the night watch into four-three hour shifts. Correspondingly Orion’s path through the sky was broken into consistent quarters. And over our passage south the Southern Cross noticeably rose as the North Star sunk in the horizon to the north. We were passing constellations like landmarks on the map. If we were more familiar with the map of the stars it would be easy to have a sense of time passing and have a feel for your location on the surface of the earth.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2xtolu932I/AAAAAAAACu4/OumuR1ubzT4/s320/P1080180.JPG" /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>It all gets lost in the street lights at home.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wXNAU8rUI/AAAAAAAACuc/DSQVruMkhtY/s400/P1080526.JPG" /></p></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com89tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-10295863738254372552010-01-26T09:48:00.000-08:002010-02-05T04:37:57.920-08:00Back in the Islands!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wJd-iY1FI/AAAAAAAACqQ/Q_Zdm6GTtBI/s1600-h/P1070479.JPG"><br /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wJdjOsyUI/AAAAAAAACqI/GpD7OcbsbO0/s1600-h/Ludo+229.jpg"></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh221lL3VkCUaWTHWxoF83jKBMCAoJTAhtIXoJgvCDmyfTwiqfpvYaW2OlG-wuHAoUXyWUR-5ZZMbrHkKd1sA-iPcefx3xQcwMD8PoRKjuuWYaQuF8laVbLi-peP7FYHPkM9x3T7RLSh88/s1600-h/P1050056.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh221lL3VkCUaWTHWxoF83jKBMCAoJTAhtIXoJgvCDmyfTwiqfpvYaW2OlG-wuHAoUXyWUR-5ZZMbrHkKd1sA-iPcefx3xQcwMD8PoRKjuuWYaQuF8laVbLi-peP7FYHPkM9x3T7RLSh88/s320/P1050056.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5434729245461119874" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />If you had a sailboat in the Mediterranean, why would you leave it?<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wJd-iY1FI/AAAAAAAACqQ/Q_Zdm6GTtBI/s320/P1070479.JPG" />To catch a rare opportunity else where! Jon, Ritchie, Sophie and Mons were all meeting in the Canaries for new years! Ludo and I thought about renting camels in Tunisia and ridding across the Algerian Sahara into Morocco then taking a ferry, but since the border is closed between Algeria and Morocco and Easy Jet fly direct for eighty euros we decided on the latter.<br /><br />We had an epic new years, which Sophie wrote so eloquently in her crazy French Frog Blog. So I will leave it to her.<br /><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wJdjOsyUI/AAAAAAAACqI/GpD7OcbsbO0/s320/Ludo+229.jpg" /><br />We sailed around the Canaries for two weeks until the friends slowly trickled away as the holidays passed and we were down to one left.<div><br /><div><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wOl-P8jWI/AAAAAAAACrg/qo-H1yUfrwo/s320/P1070827.JPG" /><br />Valerie from Couch Surfer auditioned to keep her spot by writing a song confessing her love for the boat and Captain Jon.<br /><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wMIpACS8I/AAAAAAAACqs/i28T-bHkrJQ/s320/P1070816.JPG" /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div>She was singing it as we escorted her to the bus and Captain Jon stood his ground that the rest of us were setting off on a boy’s trip.<br /><br /><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wNU5kgzDI/AAAAAAAACq0/ZsVCDVUWNB8/s320/P1070989.JPG" /><br /><br /><br />For the next few weeks it would be boat projects in the sun, afternoon beers, talking about girls, fishing, thinking about girls, surfing, sailing into little bays looking for girls, chilling out, while combing the deserted beaches for girls. Our captain has vision, reason and strong resolve and we were determined not to break rank and to follow him anywhere.<br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio3DCT4_WubmmUxi7_jNbDOsmtIeVSJwZpPvfgsfolXhKuK-1xphZdPW2A0TerHWX-wKpB-tgVVMuqtJbSPe9fKoZyVQsscYMEjuIkBdkTLBIpjGNBmtrfiv9Ynz3cR8iooDaVAkfxjls/s320/P1000020.JPG" /><br />We installed Jon’s new wind vane, and painted the back of the boat.<br /><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wOmc0nfXI/AAAAAAAACrw/VnVNdactu08/s320/P1070959.JPG" /><br />We found a little treasure map in the guide book… a yellow posted left note reading “Ile de Los Lobos, tricky anchorage in northerly winds but good holding, longest right hand break in Europe. Surf camp and ladies.” Needless to say we set off to replenish our recently depleted stores.<br /><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wMIUANjeI/AAAAAAAACqk/TXSSiIvWfds/s320/P1050114.JPG" /><br />We tried to fit in with the locals, and participated in a local ceremony that usually consists of just ladies, but they invited us to join as long as we wore the traditional garb and danced in the traditional manner. I felt that my personal space bubble was broached on a few occasions, but I kept telling my self that traveling is about venturing beyond your comfort zone and being part of the moment.<br /><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wOmB6hhaI/AAAAAAAACro/-9NFv4mBF8c/s320/P1080041.JPG" /><br /><br />We provisioned for the crossing to the Cape Verdes, then sailed up the coast of Fuertaventura and posted up in the little bay off Ile de Los Lobos. It was the setting of a boy’s trip. </div><div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wNVCGKBkI/AAAAAAAACq8/TWalA61q8g0/s320/P1070996.JPG" /></div><div>Great surf, clear green water and sunshine. We caught fish, ate like wild animals and surfed the days away.<br /><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wNVcb4dJI/AAAAAAAACrE/Uca5mwYag-c/s320/P1080008.JPG" /><br />When I say “surfed” I mean Ritchie and I took turns shivering in our board shorts on a boogie sized surf board, as Jon’s audience out in the pack of surfers while Jon zoomed in and out in his wet suit and flash new board. :)<br /><br />We hiked around the island’s well groomed trails and tried to catch feral rabbits for dinner, but decided after many failed attempts that we had plenty of pasta on the boat and didn’t know what to do if we caught a rabbit anyway.</div><div><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wNWKwLyeI/AAAAAAAACrM/Kk07t96GpSw/s320/P1080108.JPG" /><br />A few days passed and we set off for the Cabo Verdes. Unlike most cruisers, as we tend to be, we set off from the most unlikely point of departure…nearly the furthers point North East in the archipelago. So after “leaving” we were still actually sailing back through the Canaries for another day and a half after having pulled anchor.<br /></div><div><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S2wNWcSWf-I/AAAAAAAACrU/MREhX-udJD0/s320/P1080085.JPG" /></div></div></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-68741192606578967282010-01-26T08:53:00.000-08:002010-01-26T09:48:13.252-08:00The Holidays!<img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18fFaFEWUI/AAAAAAAACjI/B1B6kBLDqGY/s320/P1070322.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431093853392492866" /><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Ludo and I arrived in the Canaries after an awesome week with Rob, <st1:city st="on">Everett</st1:city> and Erin bisecting <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">Spain</st1:place></st1:country-region>’s coastline, and southern mountain towns.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Everett</st1:city></st1:place> is a rock star pimp little kid with a killer do and I would travel with him again any day.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Rob and Erin, are awesome parents,</p><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18fF5KA0XI/AAAAAAAACjY/Z4vUcBtPl-A/s320/IMG_5047.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431093861734732146" /><p class="MsoNormal"> awesome friends, and awesome people to continue to share life with.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We saw some sweet sights, made great new memories just hanging out playing with their new son Everett. We are thirty something’s now.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Erin is still hot, a mom now, a lawyer, and still gallivants around the globe, with a binder of briefs to read, hand sanitizer, <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>and baby on her back still learning from the world first hand.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18fFoUQ-QI/AAAAAAAACjQ/kQL9jHC8eGA/s320/P1070375.JPG" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431093857214331138" /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>Rob does nimrod surgery in the ER, writes with a Mont blanc pen, drives a BMW, plays with Barbies, can’t finish his beer and still wears girls underwear.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They are pulling it off, real ambitious professionals, still down to earth, good parents and still living spontaneously.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>They are a real inspiration.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-57673103151468439542010-01-26T08:16:00.000-08:002010-01-26T08:50:14.682-08:00Planning on spontaneity!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18bDUhX4oI/AAAAAAAACiE/LWzP_bg2ugU/s1600-h/Ludo+065.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18bDUhX4oI/AAAAAAAACiE/LWzP_bg2ugU/s320/Ludo+065.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431089419494351490" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18aArCBQNI/AAAAAAAACh4/ID7AQCVDiCI/s1600-h/Ludo+066.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18aArCBQNI/AAAAAAAACh4/ID7AQCVDiCI/s320/Ludo+066.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431088274485625042" /></a><br /><br /><br />This trip thus far has been an attempt at the best of both worlds. Traveling via sailboat can be anything you want it to be. One can travel “fast”, sailing each day covering as much distance as the weather will permit or you can sail for one day and stop for a month. When you sail “fast” you see water, some flying fish and the coast line. Looking at the map of the region triggers little pangs of regret about missing the wonderful talked about places. The little voice in your head cheers you along, “you are sailing around the world!”, and your little heart says “you just missed Italy!”. When you sail “slow” you make friends, learn to cook local dishes, pick up new words and experience new little ideas about life. Then you leave, and you leave friends, places you got to know and routines you began to enjoy. Smelling the roses won’t put miles on your log, and miles on your log don’t necessarily give you memories or that personal transformation that we’ve come so far to discover.<br />For me when I have an agenda or an expectation, I tend to miss something special. When I can wake up, go for a run, meet some old lady on the street who ends up walking me around a maze of Arab markets for two hours unveiling the secrete shops and best places to bargain, I feel like I have just had a moment that was more magical than anything I could have planned, and couldn’t have been bought at a travel agency. How do you perpetuate spontaneous moments, and how do you explain to others and even your self what you are doing?<br />I am following one moment of inspiration to the next, lead by encounters with people, shifts in the weather etc. and the further I step down this path the more I trust in it and the less I know about what’s coming next. I meet someone who tells me about a special place and I go. I see a post card that I like and I go. I go to a beautiful city and never enter a museum, ride the Ferris wheel or see the famous statue because I got caught up with a local and ended up cooking, drinking wine and telling jokes for three days and never leaving their house. Some old salt tells me about a hidden cove with good fishing and I cut loose. I try to be as available as I can, and find the guide books distracting in this effort.<br />Travel moments are the magic moments and lessons learned from new worlds and people as they go by. You can’t explain your self in an elevator when someone asks you “what are you doing” and when the “American dream” inner mantra kicks in with the “almost 30” sound track “what are you doing with your life?”, it becomes hard. No plan? So the answer to my favorite question is…. “I am reserving this period in my life for complete spontaneity while following the trend of motion, but I am not stuck on the idea of moving, I could not travel if I were so inclined, intiendes?”<br /><br />When we visited Palma I bought a flag for Morocco, rode the bus back to the boat, pulled anchor and took a left for Tunisia. One destination is to the right, one is to the left. The guys on the boat, just laughed. While Derek and I were sailing together, years ago now, we bought books on Panama, got a flag, then sailed east towards Europe. Both horizons had greatness in store. It doesn’t matter where you go. There is so much to see, not enough time and all of it is good. The people you meet, the experiences you have all manage to have their impact. The most amazing people and experiences I have had could have been on a bus after getting a flat tire when I was trying to get somewhere, or when you stumble upon on the edge of town and you follow the light around a corner, or a smell in the air or music from the distance. Setting off ready and willing to follow the moment, is a muscle that you have to exercise, and its like anything else…. Use it or loose it.<br />Everyday, waking up and following that day’s moment of inspiration can be difficult. There is no manual or book to read that out lines what you are supposed to do. So on my boat, with great pride, I printed out the biggest label my Wal-Mart labeler would print stating my mission statement for this adventure: “YOU ARE SAILING AROUND THE WORLD”. I posted it on the door step from my boat to the outside world. And this helps my mental health, because that question, “where are you going, what are you doing, what do you want to do with your life” is the freaking plague, and it should be outlawed. What brings you alive is the new question! And Thirty is the new Twenty. Having Kids doesn’t mean your life is over, you don’t have to stop traveling or living your dreams, in fact you must continue so that your life inspires that of your new little one. That is my rant, back to the blog.<br /><br />Ludo and I sailed from the Balearic Islands to Tunisia as fast as we could. Of course we experienced the biggest waves and heaviest sustained winds I have ever seen in Noche. Have you ever surfed down the face of a wave while sailing up wind? That’s the Mediterranean in the winter for you. Little sea mountains race south generated from the intense northerly winds streaming from the French Alps into the Gulf of Lion and joining the north west bound warm African winds for a party. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18bDmt0zzI/AAAAAAAACiU/e5YVvIP9GE4/s1600-h/P1070179.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18bDmt0zzI/AAAAAAAACiU/e5YVvIP9GE4/s320/P1070179.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431089424378416946" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18bDTuPLmI/AAAAAAAACiM/VwQSQyFtiRQ/s1600-h/P1070187.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18bDTuPLmI/AAAAAAAACiM/VwQSQyFtiRQ/s320/P1070187.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431089419279871586" /></a><br /><br />One wave crashed over the boat, and a wall of water ripped in one side of the dodger and out the other side, breaking two windows and floating both pairs of Ludo’s shoes away and the coffee cup out of my hand. Water flowed in through the closed hatches and into the galley. My stove burners were full of water and the gimbaled action kept a nice pond in the kitchen as we hove to at the edge of physical exhaustion feed now by the refreshing blast of sea water and exhilarating sound of furious wind and the beauty of whirling sea foam.<br />We went to Sardinia, and covered half the coast of Tunisia, with out venturing more than a city block from the boat. What did we discover, what did we experience? I am not sure. We didn’t even get an Italian coffee while we were in Italy. We went to Sardinia, but I wouldn’t say that I have been there. We crawled into little ports completely exhausted and entirely drenched. Spent all our time there drying our selves out and sleeping. Same with Tunisia. A seed of intrigue was planted, a new place to explore is on the list. Ludo’s in his brilliant way of expressing life in a succinct powerful way, said “I am glad to have had that experience, I feel alive!”<br /><br />The yellow sky above Africa with its sirocco winds and wispy clouds, the stars at night and the new angle of familiar constellations was what I noticed. You have time to make observations. It’s wonderful to have missed years of political news, but to be aware of how Orion’s belt and the big dipper are moving up and down on my horizon as I zig zag around the surface of the globe. You move the stars from one side of the sky to the other as you sail by night.<br />We crossed the Mediterranean in two 48 hour bursts, which was awesome, but we did not see the places we went to, if that makes any sense. The color of the water is slightly different, and it’s these things that you start to notice. We went to fast.<br />Our Christmas was Special. We arrived in Tunisia, and the Marina was full. The customs officer asked for a bribe, and I gave him a copy of “The Alchemist” by Paulo Cohelo that was written in French. Ahh I got a kick out of it, he was expecting whisky, and instead he got a book that might transform his life. They permitted us to get food (bars of chocolate, and three loafs of bread), water and fuel. The weather forecast was bad and two other boats were in the harbor waiting out the bad winds. Weary and feeling a little deflated about spending Christmas Eve beating into the weather eating Macaroni and Cheese, (that is what you cook, if you are cooking an authentic American meal for someone) we set off once again. We sailed a quarter mile off shore hugging a depth of 30 feet in 20 knots wind right off the beach. As it turns out we were gliding along in perfect sailing conditions, lots of wind and no chop.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnkaFMXWJWNxZw0HzkCTjkZYVK51YyEOydqGwr81IN5zt8bkqk3zkRqws7Rshw7LdkOgxj2cXD83rHiIih9jgfeV3SMx7tWqDVaQePJ6i2dASJN0pOn6dB4Sakbnvbl6cI-9ZDjcrUHw/s1600-h/P1070207.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPnkaFMXWJWNxZw0HzkCTjkZYVK51YyEOydqGwr81IN5zt8bkqk3zkRqws7Rshw7LdkOgxj2cXD83rHiIih9jgfeV3SMx7tWqDVaQePJ6i2dASJN0pOn6dB4Sakbnvbl6cI-9ZDjcrUHw/s320/P1070207.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431089429861462882" /></a> The bad weather came, but first we caught a fish for dinner, toasted a glass of wine and smoked the last cigar from Noche’s Caribbean stores all while the wind vane steered and we rested.<br />Upon arrival in Monastir, we tied up the boat, dried her out again, packed our bags, took a bus across the country and a flight to Barcelona where we were to meet up with Rob and Erin, drive to Malaga then fly to the Canary Islands to meet Jon for New years and then sail his boat to the Cape Verdes. Voila.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18b0pehdYI/AAAAAAAACi8/t2rfv0Toddg/s1600-h/P1070253.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 180px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18b0pehdYI/AAAAAAAACi8/t2rfv0Toddg/s320/P1070253.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431090266933130626" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18b0WqjwuI/AAAAAAAACi0/T8MgiVQ1gio/s1600-h/Ludo+070.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18b0WqjwuI/AAAAAAAACi0/T8MgiVQ1gio/s320/Ludo+070.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431090261883339490" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xz4jR2GO6TRwzKjKB-1me-8vc_Xxg6HC2bZeP-ig8dkVOSDuFK6HTmtQGNWdlbBUWXFDElqe6n08qTemXzuwdkHt8tR1G4HM0cVcuFGUejOI4iFIWSKK3u1D6izXw9OO7JSyVm1qU20/s1600-h/P1070237.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6xz4jR2GO6TRwzKjKB-1me-8vc_Xxg6HC2bZeP-ig8dkVOSDuFK6HTmtQGNWdlbBUWXFDElqe6n08qTemXzuwdkHt8tR1G4HM0cVcuFGUejOI4iFIWSKK3u1D6izXw9OO7JSyVm1qU20/s320/P1070237.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431090257209978962" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18bzhM3wFI/AAAAAAAACik/fasF_Prql0E/s1600-h/P1070244.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S18bzhM3wFI/AAAAAAAACik/fasF_Prql0E/s320/P1070244.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5431090247531741266" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-72476763061517223882010-01-14T08:48:00.000-08:002010-01-14T08:48:24.841-08:00With the wind and sea: Here is the lattest update, check Sophie's Blog<a href="http://theworldbysea.blogspot.com/2010/01/here-is-lattest-update-check-sophies.html#links">With the wind and sea: Here is the lattest update, check Sophie's Blog</a><br /><br />http://www.theadventuresofthecrazyfrenchfrog.blogspot.com/Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-65215114684468529412010-01-14T08:46:00.000-08:002010-01-14T08:47:27.226-08:00Here is the lattest update, check Sophie's Bloghttp://www.theadventuresofthecrazyfrenchfrog.blogspot.com/Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-49977539815447415502010-01-14T08:02:00.001-08:002010-01-14T08:38:15.547-08:00I got a new wing man<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S09Er4ndcbI/AAAAAAAACgo/8KuDmxmr-Fg/s1600-h/IMG_4739.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S09Er4ndcbI/AAAAAAAACgo/8KuDmxmr-Fg/s320/IMG_4739.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426631596727693746" /></a><br />Here are the steps:<br />Find some of these.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S09EqzvplbI/AAAAAAAACgY/yanTuelu_0c/s1600-h/IMG_4863.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S09EqzvplbI/AAAAAAAACgY/yanTuelu_0c/s320/IMG_4863.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426631578239997362" /></a><br />Find some way to distract them:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S09ErWmm39I/AAAAAAAACgg/UzJW0_rbrWo/s1600-h/IMG_4975.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S09ErWmm39I/AAAAAAAACgg/UzJW0_rbrWo/s320/IMG_4975.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426631587597311954" /></a><br />Grab your new buddy.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsgYLxugszbAEWtxzDoua-lsd1Eras-tis4rMlfbVmSEascga3_XdgcpJMiqlr-f-Ps_VsZLyNoB_M9cwf875Q5sPlmgATlgjSIuIiCOBU8F4lhc3amS6wSlbwttJaxyKtlCU7_cCIcg/s1600-h/IMG_5031.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHsgYLxugszbAEWtxzDoua-lsd1Eras-tis4rMlfbVmSEascga3_XdgcpJMiqlr-f-Ps_VsZLyNoB_M9cwf875Q5sPlmgATlgjSIuIiCOBU8F4lhc3amS6wSlbwttJaxyKtlCU7_cCIcg/s320/IMG_5031.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426631573549261330" /></a><br />Let him do the work....<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S09EqZnDLAI/AAAAAAAACgI/UP9uvyCGeLg/s1600-h/IMG_5021.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/S09EqZnDLAI/AAAAAAAACgI/UP9uvyCGeLg/s320/IMG_5021.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5426631571224603650" /></a><br /><br />Rob, Erin, Everett, Ludo and I just had a road trip across Spain for the holidays. Beautiful countryside, good laughs and great times catching up with lifetime friends.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-924157258629226282009-12-06T05:55:00.000-08:002009-12-11T14:57:34.298-08:00December to remember<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SyLNSZx5PUI/AAAAAAAACfc/8zs1XCaG2FQ/s1600-h/P1060462.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SyLNSZx5PUI/AAAAAAAACfc/8zs1XCaG2FQ/s400/P1060462.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414115418094255426" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvLkGPDNMI/AAAAAAAACdM/Lcgdmzb6ozI/s1600-h/Ludo+083.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvLkGPDNMI/AAAAAAAACdM/Lcgdmzb6ozI/s400/Ludo+083.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412143198225249474" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvLj9GmlFI/AAAAAAAACdE/xfHZI399D4Q/s1600-h/Ludo+095.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvLj9GmlFI/AAAAAAAACdE/xfHZI399D4Q/s400/Ludo+095.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412143195773899858" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvLjoCnAXI/AAAAAAAACc8/1RMJ5u-ylTA/s1600-h/Ludo+076.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvLjoCnAXI/AAAAAAAACc8/1RMJ5u-ylTA/s400/Ludo+076.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412143190120006002" /></a><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvE4mn3HkI/AAAAAAAACcs/qPh67taFQSg/s1600-h/Ludo+072.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvE4mn3HkI/AAAAAAAACcs/qPh67taFQSg/s400/Ludo+072.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412135853935238722" /></a><br />It's Europe and the streets are filled with fashionably dressed Christmas shoppers. The intricate city of Barcelona wraps around a large port filled with mega yachts and wintering cruisers from all around the globe. In amongst the glimmering boats on display is that little white sail boat from America with four bath towels drying on the life lines. Noche is like the clown car that missed a turn and fell behind the circus. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvE40cREvI/AAAAAAAACc0/xrsnsvuanUo/s1600-h/Ludo+059.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvE40cREvI/AAAAAAAACc0/xrsnsvuanUo/s400/Ludo+059.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412135857644704498" /></a><br />I started a couch surfing account, and now am mother hen for backpackers traveling through Europe. I woke up this morning and there was a beautiful Brazilian girl snuggled up next to my nineteen year old German couch surfer, out on the deck was a bag full of groceries a bottle of wine and two books on the Balearic Islands that a stranger had brought to us in the night. Its just like Christmas around here, except I am wearing flip flops and board shorts (not so much because it is blazing hot on the Coasta Brava, but because laundry is so expensive). <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvTG4TumhI/AAAAAAAACeE/yKK_4cj2qlk/s1600-h/Collioure+to+Barcelona+127.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvTG4TumhI/AAAAAAAACeE/yKK_4cj2qlk/s400/Collioure+to+Barcelona+127.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412151492363590162" /></a><br />So here is the update: <br /> Since my parents are the only one's that read this blog and they came for the French Canals, I can save them for latter. We made it to the Mediterranean! I am sailing in the Mediterranean. Wow get out the pencil and cross something off the list of things to do in life. I know everyone else knows this, but the Med is in fact expensive, and the winter winds are unpredictably strong, and the sea state is a mess. So the images I had of clear water, petite villages and cocktail parties on Noche were congered from postcard images taken during the summer. The good news is when I pull up to a petite village the office that collects money has dust on the door knob and the money collector is on holiday, so its free.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvMpHS9CyI/AAAAAAAACdc/CQWwQB3bk78/s1600-h/GEDC1114.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvMpHS9CyI/AAAAAAAACdc/CQWwQB3bk78/s400/GEDC1114.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412144383921031970" /></a> People don't sail the Med in the Winter.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvQOpn85nI/AAAAAAAACds/1MV7rVjVgUg/s1600-h/Agde+to+Collioure+060.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvQOpn85nI/AAAAAAAACds/1MV7rVjVgUg/s400/Agde+to+Collioure+060.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412148327325951602" /></a><br />Ok the real update. I got Ludo. The Ya Ya sisterhood road trip is almost complete. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvMpurH0xI/AAAAAAAACdk/kVluNtvXFcM/s1600-h/GEDC1134.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvMpurH0xI/AAAAAAAACdk/kVluNtvXFcM/s400/GEDC1134.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412144394491384594" /></a><br />Two months ago, I met a kid my age on dock in Bordeaux and he helped me remove the mast so Noche could qualify as a Canal boat. Ludo and his father had spent two years completely restoring and preparing a boat to sail from France to Cuba, and were scheduled to depart the following week. We kept in touch and a month later he called me with news that his mother was ill and his sail boat would be parked for another year. He was on the next train to Noche and now we are sailing the Med together. He speaks Portuguese, French, English, Spanish, knows good cheese and can read a wine bottle so he is handy as it gets on Noche. <br /><br />I have always had a pang of fear about traveling alone, but each time I set off, I learn again and again that you are only alone for one or two days. <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvTGLwwKoI/AAAAAAAACd0/W96NkViCuS0/s1600-h/Collioure+to+Barcelona+007.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvTGLwwKoI/AAAAAAAACd0/W96NkViCuS0/s400/Collioure+to+Barcelona+007.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412151480405731970" /></a><br /> If you follow a calling you'll meet like minded people along the way. I meet alot of people who say, they would love to do what I am doing. Its a phrase that I do not understand. I feel like I am working down the list of things I want to do before I die, and everyday I am anxious because I don't think I have enough time. I cant imagine how I would feel if I wasn't doing my list, if I was doing something else instead. Life can take a turn and those dreams we've saved for later might not happen. Ludo and his father will sail some day, and in the meantime Noche will fill in the gap.<br /> Yesterday, we met a Lithuanian girl and her French Canadian boy friend who have been living in Barcelona for six months. She is a bartender, living off 800 euros a month, and he passes out flyers for a discotheque and rakes in 400 euros a month. They have an apartment, nice clothes, etc and look like every other Barcelonan. They took Ludo and I rockclimbing all day, and hosted us around the city. She speaks six languages, and is in her second year of her masters in sociology. He speaks four languages and skateboards all day. This city is full of young people from all over the world, and the lingua franca is English. I speak broken English, burn 400 euros a week, and don't have nice clothes. There is no real point to my story other than, my jaw dropped when I learned how much money they live lavishly on, and how extravagantly well cultured citizens of the world can be.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDREaaagiaHN0l2yde8QRa4tPSG45jfaq3S9HB6Z70nW5Y1Y31pdm17pFRUWBmbXu1MnL_9XwySAwpoiQ9-9pEJaS95jpsMeo0rKl4RZogHzfoMFbMC6MKU_VNdotzBQI432fq_l78Ddg/s1600-h/Collioure+to+Barcelona+120.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDREaaagiaHN0l2yde8QRa4tPSG45jfaq3S9HB6Z70nW5Y1Y31pdm17pFRUWBmbXu1MnL_9XwySAwpoiQ9-9pEJaS95jpsMeo0rKl4RZogHzfoMFbMC6MKU_VNdotzBQI432fq_l78Ddg/s400/Collioure+to+Barcelona+120.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412151483668637202" /></a><br />I am doing this cliche voyage of simplicty, sailing around the world, powered by the wind, and my head spins when I meet a 22 year old Belgian kid who has walked from his home in Antwerp to Tibet and back with out ever paying for a bus or train. Or when a wispy 19 year old French girl trumps me by thumbing it from Mexico to Canada with homemade signs and seventy bucks. There are so many amazing stories out there and I never stop being amazed by how people can do so much with no fear and no money. You can go round the world by lifting your thumb. That is amazing. It's proof that people are good natured and you don't have to be afraid. I continue to learn every day out here.<br /><br /><br />How about this one: If you sleep eight hours, you'll sleep a third of your life. If you sleep six hours, you'll sleep a quarter of it. If you remember your dreams, you'll experience it all.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SyLNTIaEdmI/AAAAAAAACfs/soEXZlhXA4o/s1600-h/P1060483.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SyLNTIaEdmI/AAAAAAAACfs/soEXZlhXA4o/s400/P1060483.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414115430610794082" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SyLNSwAvrDI/AAAAAAAACfk/PkKN-bFJRNs/s1600-h/P1060373.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 226px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SyLNSwAvrDI/AAAAAAAACfk/PkKN-bFJRNs/s400/P1060373.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5414115424062123058" /></a><br /><br />Here is the latest. We are newly inspired to rock climb so we will be sailing to the Balearic Islands to do some deep water soloing and I have always wanted to do this experiment: Take a thousand bucks and see how far it gets me. Due to the current "crisis" lets start with five hundred US. I want to dispell the myth that lack of money is a barrier to traveling. So I will be doing this experiment soon and documenting every penny. 500 US is 300 Euros so I should be back with a report very soon.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvTHONTtDI/AAAAAAAACeM/IWgu7pgTun0/s1600-h/Collioure+to+Barcelona+100.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvTHONTtDI/AAAAAAAACeM/IWgu7pgTun0/s400/Collioure+to+Barcelona+100.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412151498242241586" /></a><br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvMozRq8HI/AAAAAAAACdU/4OiNDRvA1AA/s1600-h/GEDC1133.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SxvMozRq8HI/AAAAAAAACdU/4OiNDRvA1AA/s400/GEDC1133.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5412144378546942066" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com50tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-45548484731828853262009-10-28T11:59:00.000-07:002009-10-29T01:31:33.970-07:00Motoring, Mud Fights and Wine<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SuismKmxVBI/AAAAAAAACZE/A-C0_ALk-3Q/s1600-h/Bordeaux+La+Rochelle+221.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SuismKmxVBI/AAAAAAAACZE/A-C0_ALk-3Q/s400/Bordeaux+La+Rochelle+221.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397753925085516818" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/Suisl0EYCLI/AAAAAAAACY8/2sDIlT5RlBE/s1600-h/235221.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/Suisl0EYCLI/AAAAAAAACY8/2sDIlT5RlBE/s400/235221.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397753919035672754" /></a><br />We we Noche and the French Canals. A year gone by, and she didn't look that bad, but boy did she smell. The first night back in La Rochelle my buddy Patrick said, "Its like camping, campfire smell and all". You do all you can but after all the salt air, the flat screen tv seized along with every zipper from trouser to raincoat to my favorite backpack. The only thing that got better was a stash of Dominican Rum, but not the mayonnaise or the carton of milk next to it. Sunny weather welcomed me off the plane so drying her out and enjoying the boat again was a breeze. Leaving La Rochelle and all the good people there was difficult. I know everyone is tired of hearing about "La Rochelle" and how great it is, but if you have a boat, and can handle castle turrets, and old clock towers illuminating around you as you have that glass of wine at sunset its the place to go. Waking up to the smell of fresh bread in the air and having an organic vegetable market a block away makes the good things in life right at your doors step.<br /><br />Bordeaux...but not yet. There are crazy tides and wild Kiwis before lazy canals and cheap wine. Jon and Paul happened to be in the neighborhood. One carbon tiptoe for Jon from London to Toulouse, and Paul happened to be ridding his bike through the Pyraneese mountains on a month holiday from his mega yacht in the Med, so we met up and took Noche into the Garronne river on the rising tide at eight knotts to the walls of Bordeaux in one day. Well... all in one day, meaning we stumbled back from a Cuban dance bar in Royan at two in the morning and wanted to take the boat out...we left the car at the dock, and believe it or not Paul fell as sleep on the couch as Jon averaged about four knots out into the river and into the night. Having three "Captains" on board was luxury cruising so I crawled into my fart bag and when Paul and I woke up, Jon had done the hard watch and as the sun came up and burnt off the fog the tide changed and we started to reach speeds of eight and nine knots. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SuisnYQMXcI/AAAAAAAACZc/39bwp307IQ8/s1600-h/Bordeaux+La+Rochelle+217.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SuisnYQMXcI/AAAAAAAACZc/39bwp307IQ8/s400/Bordeaux+La+Rochelle+217.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397753945928785346" /></a><br />Bordeaux, pretty similar to Royan. We closed down the Irish pub and then danced the night away in a sweaty club with no air or elbo room to familiar Caribbean music and Mojitos. Somehow the wonderfull bar tender Anna,<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SuismuxxDuI/AAAAAAAACZM/nOok3c6Ei00/s1600-h/Bordeaux+La+Rochelle+225.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SuismuxxDuI/AAAAAAAACZM/nOok3c6Ei00/s400/Bordeaux+La+Rochelle+225.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397753934795312866" /></a> from the Irish pub ended up with us the next day and we took a leisurely drive though wine country and had a mud fight in front of peaceful family vacationers in a sleepy beach town in autum. Its always so much fun with those guys. <br /><br />Then the possie came down from La Rochelle for a monday night. Chris, another bar tender...came down first from LR, and thought I could use a fresh shirt so he took me shopping... meaning you go to little chic-shops looking for a t-shirt that's to small but comes wrapped in a fancy bag that you carry around town making you feel fancy for the rest of the day. We bought a few bottles of wine, and made reservations at a street side Italian restaurant for latter that night.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SuisnKW2IfI/AAAAAAAACZU/Ck-Ka8cMpGM/s1600-h/IMGP0347.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SuisnKW2IfI/AAAAAAAACZU/Ck-Ka8cMpGM/s400/IMGP0347.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397753942198591986" /></a> Then we got Macaroons, a regional cookie that comes in different colors and flavors and again it is served with a white glove and boxed up like a wedding ring. Half of the experience is presentation.You select a baguette and they tie a paper bow around it. Everything is done intently and with great importance. Greeting people is the same. A greeting starts with "hello", then two kisses, you chat and then two more kisses, "good bye", and then "good journey". In this region life is one sensational moment after another.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-36038747572305084402009-09-28T17:40:00.000-07:002009-09-28T20:52:36.172-07:00"Thats fishing"<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFjPn8zOOI/AAAAAAAACVM/s9YqGQa5_tU/s1600-h/sk+318.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFjPn8zOOI/AAAAAAAACVM/s9YqGQa5_tU/s400/sk+318.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386695749385009378" /></a><br />How was Alaska? My mind races, my emotions whirl, physical and mental exaustion brings everything to mind at once. The seemingly endless mecanical failures,scarcity of fish, relentless wind and sea paired with days of perfect hamony of weather, man, machine, and abundance of fish. We had weeks of trying so hard and earning so little, and then we had hours of success that produced more than those weeks of struggle. <br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3NKb9qJwNfUL_GhY2VnZRgJ9nCZ7p31xKgyeYJsczy0s0bWPCS0lpDPFU9XNrMYrOBlKevimllIlNlKN5u6MfGxFp0uVqaafRxf64CHfJ6VhOx80LxnvzYkshcs7MXFTHjsCtK6iMqZY/s1600-h/sk+157.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3NKb9qJwNfUL_GhY2VnZRgJ9nCZ7p31xKgyeYJsczy0s0bWPCS0lpDPFU9XNrMYrOBlKevimllIlNlKN5u6MfGxFp0uVqaafRxf64CHfJ6VhOx80LxnvzYkshcs7MXFTHjsCtK6iMqZY/s400/sk+157.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386724339367601490" /></a> It was "A first year" as they say, that I will undoubtedly forget by the time the season rolls around. And thats what suits one for fishing. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF9RLlVVlI/AAAAAAAACX4/HZptu12jHfk/s1600-h/033.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF9RLlVVlI/AAAAAAAACX4/HZptu12jHfk/s400/033.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386724363432449618" /></a> You learn from your mistakes, heighten your awareness, forget those times of misery and remmeber those moments of sun shine and easy fishing. So how do you answer that question? <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF1-TXO7AI/AAAAAAAACWg/nCYE1soC_hE/s1600-h/sk+349.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF1-TXO7AI/AAAAAAAACWg/nCYE1soC_hE/s400/sk+349.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386716342521883650" /></a> <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF19MQou6I/AAAAAAAACWI/joidIbj_EbY/s1600-h/sk+161.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF19MQou6I/AAAAAAAACWI/joidIbj_EbY/s400/sk+161.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386716323435297698" /></a><br />Murphies Law is undisputable. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF9QBSrz_I/AAAAAAAACXo/pQpRIrSyWfU/s1600-h/sk+278.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF9QBSrz_I/AAAAAAAACXo/pQpRIrSyWfU/s400/sk+278.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386724343490007026" /></a> If it belongs on a fishing boat and you need it to fish, we broke it. We broke it once, and we broke it twice. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF9QlD4AtI/AAAAAAAACXw/ekihucOyJ1g/s1600-h/sk+301.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF9QlD4AtI/AAAAAAAACXw/ekihucOyJ1g/s400/sk+301.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386724353091568338" /></a> Without gettting to technical, if it floated when we got it, we sunk it while using it, if it spun freely we froze it up. If a line seemed new and strong we cheifed it, snapped it, spliced itback to gether, snapped it, spliced it and snapped it again. If the weather was bad and the fleet was tied up, we were setting our net. If the season closed for 22 hours, half the crew were at the welding shop for 22 hours with bits of metal to restore and the other half were tracking down the local mecanic to come fix another part of us so we could go fishing again.<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF-Ytq_2zI/AAAAAAAACYg/O6Cc_XhXwao/s1600-h/sk+307.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF-Ytq_2zI/AAAAAAAACYg/O6Cc_XhXwao/s400/sk+307.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386725592353725234" /></a><br />We had crew fall overboard, bar fights in the local taverns, sharks in our nets, and what seemed to be just about every Alaskan adventure. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF_86bmH5I/AAAAAAAACYo/3Q1e-WABkUI/s1600-h/sk+309.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF_86bmH5I/AAAAAAAACYo/3Q1e-WABkUI/s400/sk+309.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386727313765703570" /></a> We had moment after moment of total dispair. Relentless challenges, wore down those on the crew who seemed at first to be the most promising with their years of experience and proclaimed importance and then they quit. While those who started as the unexperienced, became the expereinced, and stuck it through to the end of the rainbow, where we eventually found a little pile of silver.<br />We worked harder and longer than those around us, while catching fewer fish all summer long. But we lasted longer and ended up catching and passing some of our local competitors. Would I do it again? I can't freaking wait. <br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF_9ds0_eI/AAAAAAAACYw/--XpAQI3Sh4/s1600-h/045.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF_9ds0_eI/AAAAAAAACYw/--XpAQI3Sh4/s400/045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386727323233222114" /></a><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF-YGbDRuI/AAAAAAAACYY/Zz_UEr4aegg/s1600-h/sk+302.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF-YGbDRuI/AAAAAAAACYY/Zz_UEr4aegg/s400/sk+302.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386725581817857762" /></a><br /><<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF-XYaXZjI/AAAAAAAACYI/nKKv-6APSGk/s1600-h/097.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF-XYaXZjI/AAAAAAAACYI/nKKv-6APSGk/s400/097.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386725569466951218" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF-WzRsTFI/AAAAAAAACYA/r0n0flxsjTM/s1600-h/087.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF-WzRsTFI/AAAAAAAACYA/r0n0flxsjTM/s400/087.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386725559498460242" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF9PbvIClI/AAAAAAAACXY/RDBjC-wLBfs/s1600-h/sk+186.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF9PbvIClI/AAAAAAAACXY/RDBjC-wLBfs/s400/sk+186.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386724333408750162" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3x2JHJZI/AAAAAAAACXQ/LdPI45SfzX8/s1600-h/sk+219.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3x2JHJZI/AAAAAAAACXQ/LdPI45SfzX8/s400/sk+219.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386718327542850962" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3xRaM4hI/AAAAAAAACXI/xKkUHq0gIBE/s1600-h/sk+253.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3xRaM4hI/AAAAAAAACXI/xKkUHq0gIBE/s400/sk+253.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386718317682418194" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3xKtpIJI/AAAAAAAACXA/UDDVznQVxfo/s1600-h/sk+270.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3xKtpIJI/AAAAAAAACXA/UDDVznQVxfo/s400/sk+270.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386718315884912786" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3wnpSOnI/AAAAAAAACW4/otSwLjFrpoM/s1600-h/sk+273.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3wnpSOnI/AAAAAAAACW4/otSwLjFrpoM/s400/sk+273.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386718306471393906" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3wEa7JKI/AAAAAAAACWw/SOifyW_IKoQ/s1600-h/sk+277.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF3wEa7JKI/AAAAAAAACWw/SOifyW_IKoQ/s400/sk+277.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386718297015919778" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF1-xRoR_I/AAAAAAAACWo/vzNzE6c_Mz4/s1600-h/sk+313.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF1-xRoR_I/AAAAAAAACWo/vzNzE6c_Mz4/s400/sk+313.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386716350551443442" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF19_N16qI/AAAAAAAACWY/YJsdVR7KUc8/s1600-h/sk+275.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 266px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF19_N16qI/AAAAAAAACWY/YJsdVR7KUc8/s400/sk+275.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386716337113787042" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF19nOvgsI/AAAAAAAACWQ/4qx5K9LB4qU/s1600-h/sk+200.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsF19nOvgsI/AAAAAAAACWQ/4qx5K9LB4qU/s400/sk+200.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386716330675110594" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFys4lA8dI/AAAAAAAACWA/J1UdRlGu4Fo/s1600-h/010.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFys4lA8dI/AAAAAAAACWA/J1UdRlGu4Fo/s400/010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386712744739271122" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFysc5K9vI/AAAAAAAACV4/w3p9Mq3xwnU/s1600-h/005.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFysc5K9vI/AAAAAAAACV4/w3p9Mq3xwnU/s400/005.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386712737307621106" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFv3sI3mmI/AAAAAAAACVw/shoEuipcPwk/s1600-h/073.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFv3sI3mmI/AAAAAAAACVw/shoEuipcPwk/s400/073.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386709631843670626" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFv3cdRJcI/AAAAAAAACVo/mUS96maSpZc/s1600-h/tony+034.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFv3cdRJcI/AAAAAAAACVo/mUS96maSpZc/s400/tony+034.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386709627634263490" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFv20ER1gI/AAAAAAAACVg/snLe6VFiRr8/s1600-h/tony+058.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFv20ER1gI/AAAAAAAACVg/snLe6VFiRr8/s400/tony+058.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386709616792032770" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFtXEo34rI/AAAAAAAACVY/VxhQERk5nUI/s1600-h/tony+177.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 266px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SsFtXEo34rI/AAAAAAAACVY/VxhQERk5nUI/s400/tony+177.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386706872461419186" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-20165861420969647542009-05-07T19:23:00.000-07:002009-05-08T09:24:30.938-07:00The Resurrection!<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgObLp90XCI/AAAAAAAABpM/HFu_8BWTwzI/s1600-h/storm.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgObLp90XCI/AAAAAAAABpM/HFu_8BWTwzI/s400/storm.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333277008282803234" /></a><br />Western Alaska had a tough winter this year while the headlines boasted of sunken boats and epic rescues at sea. A friend of mine, Bill, called me in March from Durango Colorado, where he was spending his winter vacation. In a radical storm storm his boat had frozen in the ice pack and been swallowed by the rising sea and needed some TLC. He built the Namorada him self years ago on Kodiak Island and has fished it all over Alaska for twenty plus years with his wife and son. I have been privileged to work with him for five years and through many adventures and prosperous seasons I have grown attached to the boat my self. News of her sinking, was hard to bear. It was going to be "a miracle", but Bill wanted to resurrect and refit the boat so that we could fish in four short weeks. With pictures all over the Internet the word was out and the consensus was overwhelmingly doubt full. It was going to be an a life time experience dealing with the cold and desolate conditions up there and it sounded like another adventure.<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgOn6E_BkHI/AAAAAAAABps/PPXGyRJpK-0/s1600-h/018.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgOn6E_BkHI/AAAAAAAABps/PPXGyRJpK-0/s400/018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333290999949135986" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjtx0QCIRnjdiIXKt_bD1dSZFVGP1_MitTOv75j1gRFBqVnnJkZgpHNbunCUDhiSQ7dIGZKhXvpZqfFTwjMMaZYWKjt1g_Tb8G5XKVQGlH0SfcdQBWg3xlArBPIf__6frFcqXWpQqs_E/s1600-h/023.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnjtx0QCIRnjdiIXKt_bD1dSZFVGP1_MitTOv75j1gRFBqVnnJkZgpHNbunCUDhiSQ7dIGZKhXvpZqfFTwjMMaZYWKjt1g_Tb8G5XKVQGlH0SfcdQBWg3xlArBPIf__6frFcqXWpQqs_E/s400/023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333290995900181650" /></a><br />Some parts of Alaska solidify in ice during the winter, and we happened to be in one of those parts. The F/V Namorada was stored on the beach at the end of the summer in a tributary of Bristol Bay. Through the winter the rivers become five feet thick highways for those who live there year round. The Namorada was preserved in the ice pack poised for Shackleton's photographer, when an extreme hide tide and a twelve foot storm surge came for a visit. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgObLqm7XWI/AAAAAAAABpU/eftYNhQ37K8/s1600-h/swamped.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgObLqm7XWI/AAAAAAAABpU/eftYNhQ37K8/s400/swamped.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333277008455228770" /></a><br />Amazingly four weeks time has brought us from the above, (a complete bath then the boat becoming a solid block of ice inside and out) to where we are now... completely ready to fish. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgOn5UT5gdI/AAAAAAAABpc/E8wfgBmBz8E/s1600-h/014.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgOn5UT5gdI/AAAAAAAABpc/E8wfgBmBz8E/s400/014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333290986883350994" /></a><br />Chipping the ice out of the boats living quarters, cleaning every nut and bolt, defrosting and breaking apart our fishing net, repairing radios, reviving the engines, chipping the boat out of the ice with a crowbar and a two inch wood chisel. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgOn6ajetOI/AAAAAAAABp0/15x5RCuk-24/s1600-h/014.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgOn6ajetOI/AAAAAAAABp0/15x5RCuk-24/s400/014.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333291005739185378" /></a> Jacking the boat up out of its ice bed, then towing the boat off the beach into the water and having a bottle of champagne flown in for the occasion (great job Amanda)!<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgOn64WVkWI/AAAAAAAABp8/6caPZQdb6u8/s1600-h/021.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SgOn64WVkWI/AAAAAAAABp8/6caPZQdb6u8/s400/021.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333291013737124194" /></a><br />When you have a guy who smiles in the face of everything, knows his boat backwards, has a spare part for everything and can tell you what size wrench you are going to need for every job, values good conversations hot cups of tea anything is possible. We are in the wild wild west out here, beyond the realm of OSHA and hardware stores where WD40 and a good pair of vice grips is all you need.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-80145063064329064242009-02-04T21:35:00.000-08:002009-02-04T22:26:58.279-08:00Nostalgia<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYqCVjwdyjI/AAAAAAAAA_o/Z3weWnPg4_k/s1600-h/Sailing+07+073.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYqCVjwdyjI/AAAAAAAAA_o/Z3weWnPg4_k/s400/Sailing+07+073.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299191218442193458" /></a><br /><br />I changed my return ticket to France the other day and my heart sunk. When I left Noche I thought I would be back in three months. My spirits were beaming from the French culture and vivacity of the sailing lifestyle. So many magic moments one after another, no stress, just one day after another of everything you want it to be.<br />September 15Th is the date I will take hold of Noche's lines again and head for that next horizon. I am dreaming of when that daily routine resumes of putting the kettle on, drawing a few scoops from my elndless supply of stale bitter Caribbean coffee, walking down the dock to the bakery for a small baguette, some cheese and a bottle of two euro wine, stopping to chat with friends encountered months ago in some random far away place, pulling my sails back out, fitting them back in their places, and peeling through charts looking for that next adventure.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYp_EfXQJQI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/KRh4R52JR2Y/s1600-h/small+wind.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYp_EfXQJQI/AAAAAAAAA_Q/KRh4R52JR2Y/s400/small+wind.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299187626670040322" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYp_EePoO0I/AAAAAAAAA_I/6fby_dk1xHk/s1600-h/small+waves.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYp_EePoO0I/AAAAAAAAA_I/6fby_dk1xHk/s400/small+waves.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299187626369628994" /></a><br />Today I was checking the weather, feeling remorseful and debating about taking a few weeks to go check on the boat. Its winter, I thought, but what does that mean over there? Jon's boat is snowed in there in bristly Brighton. That would be brutal.<br /><br />The wind in the Bay of Biscay seems fine, and the swell not bad either.<br /><br />Here is twenty four hours later, fifty knot winds and 10 meter waves.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYp_ErDXHPI/AAAAAAAAA_g/Wbq_mCf5C6U/s1600-h/weather.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYp_ErDXHPI/AAAAAAAAA_g/Wbq_mCf5C6U/s400/weather.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299187629807836402" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg785bngS6Okeb1EkBlJqeCxhRw8QbOlIWBxAOr8d3Nar6wuacmv4M5sHc8MGI4Ik-0wievP8C3PdbxG7905iP9Q67Ql11pz_v4YsJYPZ93PNQq7L6HgqS4UPFhq6C6HQULmpolJ5sRs2s/s1600-h/waves.bmp"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg785bngS6Okeb1EkBlJqeCxhRw8QbOlIWBxAOr8d3Nar6wuacmv4M5sHc8MGI4Ik-0wievP8C3PdbxG7905iP9Q67Ql11pz_v4YsJYPZ93PNQq7L6HgqS4UPFhq6C6HQULmpolJ5sRs2s/s400/waves.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299187629012088642" /></a><br /><br />Ah, life is good, maybe I feel like I am missing it, but the best is still to come. <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Who do I know in the Bahamas instead?<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYqEejsX4oI/AAAAAAAAA_w/GgNbN8Q2yRk/s1600-h/bahamas.bmp"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYqEejsX4oI/AAAAAAAAA_w/GgNbN8Q2yRk/s400/bahamas.bmp" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299193572067107458" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-33857675589962401702009-02-04T19:56:00.000-08:002009-02-04T21:11:33.393-08:00Derek Got Pranked!!!!!This is what happens when you leave your car and your keys at one of your old college roommates house.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYpkIn7qolI/AAAAAAAAA_A/SRtVHpgeHPw/s1600-h/IMG00272%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYpkIn7qolI/AAAAAAAAA_A/SRtVHpgeHPw/s400/IMG00272%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299158010875781714" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYpkIYfJGtI/AAAAAAAAA-4/NCss7lZxW6A/s1600-h/IMG00270%5B1%5D.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SYpkIYfJGtI/AAAAAAAAA-4/NCss7lZxW6A/s400/IMG00270%5B1%5D.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5299158006729611986" /></a><br /><br />Derek is famous for decades of pranking people in good humor. Its very hard to catch him in a vulnerable position, but Rob Evans happened to catch him off guard. 2,500 post-it notes, a car full of packing peanuts, shredded paper, glitter, and some hidden treasures yet to be found make for a nice payback!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-35859292157335026972009-02-02T10:39:00.000-08:002009-02-04T22:20:20.042-08:00Snowboarding in Crested Butte<OBJECT class=BLOG_video_class id=BLOG_video-448282ca0ee455e0 height=266 width=320 contentId="448282ca0ee455e0"></OBJECT><br /><br />Jon from the <em>Double Bruyn</em> and Laura my cousin from the days of <em>Barely Twisted</em> and I met up for a reunion in Colorado. We romped around the slopes under cloudless skies, met really hospitable people, drank beers in the sunshine, talked endlessly about sailing and our next adventures, and soaked our bones in the hottub.<br /><br />Crested Butte is a charming town and warm community. We were greeted with genuine interest, treated like royalty with discounted food and lift tickets, free accommodations, and a ski jump right in front of our porch. We couldnt ask for more. If you buy a case of beer, you receive two for one lift tickets. How could we complain? Free buses roam the streets and there is always a way to score free hot chocolate. Thanks to Kristen and Thomas for all your hospitality! They even said we could come back anytime... heheUnknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-32565566220437490522009-01-20T18:59:00.000-08:002009-02-20T11:09:07.000-08:00Back to boats and back to Alaska<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SXaQcTGWqYI/AAAAAAAAAw4/Gj1Z-IR1LrI/s1600-h/NS2689_ChristaGail_01.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 225px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SXaQcTGWqYI/AAAAAAAAAw4/Gj1Z-IR1LrI/s400/NS2689_ChristaGail_01.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293577227858258306" /></a><br />The boating adventure has morphed into a boating venture and the labor of love into labor for money. She's twice as long and twice as wide as Noche. This boat was sold at close to half its value because of the uncertainty of the economy and the fickle nature of fishing. Some are scared and some are simply ready to move into their place. The taste of Alaska is now a lifestyle and days on land few and far between. I am living in Seattle and its awesome! I am metting inspiring people and the weather has been relatively dry and nice to us.<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SX04fEbrxyI/AAAAAAAAA5U/ALHUP48dZy8/s1600-h/023.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SX04fEbrxyI/AAAAAAAAA5U/ALHUP48dZy8/s400/023.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295450843274528546" /></a><br /><br />I am a "waterfront character" to these poeple, who sleeps in a sleeping bag, on a dirty smelly boat, with oil on my clothes, with earth in my nails and grime stained calluses. And to me my friends are "nine to fivers", living up the finer aspects of city life, working for a greater cause, tasting adventure through a flat screen, raging two days a week and two weeks a year and trickling the extra into the promise of a 401k. Its all an adventure and you sleep in the bed you create. Admittedly I only have one pair of jeans that I like to wear, a favorite hat, no car in my name, but a powerful confidence/ delusion of my self as one of the wealthiest men alive. I have a hundred dollar gift certificate to Nordstroms that I cant spend because there is nothing that I need. I wake each day, and its the day that I own. I show the wear and tear of a large boat project, but its my project. Its up to me each day to do what needs to be done, to make that list and cross it off. I like that. Free to run, free to work, free to read, free to talk with the person next to me. My tools aren't made by Black Berry but I can build, fix and interact fist person with this universe and still strike five conversations a minute with a group of strangers on the streets or in a room. <br />Today overwhelmingly I sense this great dichotomy with whats being said and whats actually going on. I think that we should learn to read the weather for our selves, and nourish our instincts and what it really means to be a human. Its crazy to get all our information from a Television or even a newspaper. Its crazy to experience an emotion with a a inanimate object like a television. Our ability to read life and sense whats going on atrophies to nothing when we swallow, believe, and act with out our own reason. A decade with out television (except for movies and the Lost Series) and I feel like I have a pretty strong grasp of what is going on around me.<br />I can feel rain when its on its way and when its not. As far as the economy goes I was in line at REI (an outdoor clothing store) listening to a couple in front of me talk about stories of "lay offs" and this massive "recession" that we were in. All I could think of was that, in fact we were standing in the longest line at REI that I had ever been in. So many people were getting new ski outfits that Sunday that I had to wait longer than I had ever waited. Last night after a sold out concert the bars were so packed with free spending consumers that my friends and I had to walk several blocks in the cold to find a place that was empty enough to hear each other talk. I am writting this now in a cafe with out an empty table, there is heat, 46 visible light bulbs burning, food going stale in their show cases and coffee being poured out every hour because its not fresh enough for our palets. Times are tough, thats what I hear, but sometimes I cant get over what I see.<br />For every person that is out of work and forced to sell their stuff there is someone buying stuff cheap. There will be more opportunity now to acquire promising assets, than buying houses or assets when they were at their peak. The channels of information have us scared, when we should be getting ready for the biggest opportunity for economic gain this generation will experience. The boom is when allot of people see a steady gain, the bust is when a select few will see tremendous gain. American companies are on sale. Wealth will be shifted again even more now into the hands of those who already have it. The economic middle class will pour like sand in an hour glass into the lower region and the money will swell in the pockets of the extremely wealthy. <br /><br />Companies will shrink, because they over expanded. Houses will loose value, because we built too many, and frankly we built boxes around shiny marble counter tops surrounded by other unimaginative boxes that were engineered in shapes that squeezed more into less with no regard for livability. Our dallor will loose its value because we are printing too many. Our credibility in the world as a power, as a leader as an inspiring idea has lost its luster because we wrote checks our soft power account couldn't cash. <br /><br />So that's my soap box as you know, don't miss out on the land of opportunity. A friend, fisherman, businessman from Alaska and I are venturing into the uncertain waters of this recession with a Canadian boat. The Canadian salmon fisheries are in turmoil and boats are being sold off. Alaskan fisheries are in good shape, but traditionally really expensive to capitalize for. So a cheap boat from one area, brought to to the promise land is the plan.<br /><br />Of course there are always reasons why there aren't other people doing the same thing... this boat was too long on both ends.. so we cut the bow off and part of the stern. So nothing is easy and you have to take risk. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SX0pv_FFeNI/AAAAAAAAA5M/-xFDm6Kp6TI/s1600-h/016.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SX0pv_FFeNI/AAAAAAAAA5M/-xFDm6Kp6TI/s320/016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5295434641220925650" /></a>We are taking engines out, and putting engines in. Cutting nets apart, and sewing nets together. Cutting catches off, and putting hatches on.<br /><br /><br /><br />Here is my number one: Jamil, a Peruvian, who drove from LA a month ago with his mind set on becoming a fisherman, and he did. <br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SXaUCEUJ6qI/AAAAAAAAAxY/m1FWKE9OiPo/s1600-h/059.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SXaUCEUJ6qI/AAAAAAAAAxY/m1FWKE9OiPo/s400/059.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5293581175259523746" /></a><br /><br />And we are looking for more:Unknownnoreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-21362089921683487382008-11-18T09:38:00.000-08:002008-11-18T10:30:36.305-08:00A gold mine in Mexico<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSL-qaW9iDI/AAAAAAAAAoU/lbUHy-34-p4/s1600-h/002.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSL-qaW9iDI/AAAAAAAAAoU/lbUHy-34-p4/s400/002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270054518560491570" /></a><br />Old Mexico<br /><br />We crossed the border in a convoy of delapidated trucks and freshly painted mining equipment, heading for the sonoran moutain desert. funny as it works this time I was waved through, while everyone else had to dig for their wallets. A hundred bucks here a thousand bucks there a few days later and we evenually got all our gear through. I was pit crew for our mecanically feable fleet. It seemed as though from Colorado to base camp we experienced it all, from broken windows flat tires, trailers jumping off their tow hitches while cruising down the highway, fuel problems, new pumps, compressor problems, two new compressors, running out of gas, locking the keys in the car, paying road side tire repair guys to watch our trailers, getting totally separated with no means of communication and camping along the side of the road in dangerous parts of Mexico. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMB0c79U6I/AAAAAAAAAok/OKn2N9Trhgw/s1600-h/007.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMB0c79U6I/AAAAAAAAAok/OKn2N9Trhgw/s200/007.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270057989586113442" /></a><br /> The adventure of gold minining in mexico has long begun.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMBzhoX2XI/AAAAAAAAAoc/URrr9kJaEAQ/s1600-h/012.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMBzhoX2XI/AAAAAAAAAoc/URrr9kJaEAQ/s200/012.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270057973666273650" /></a><br />Once we arrived with our pile of gear we rounded the troops for a meeting with the owner of the ranch where we would hopped to set up this mine. The ranch owner happens to live in a hacienda style compound with gaurds and surveilance cameras on the alleys that border his estate. Why all this? he's got alot to loose. Most mafia familes do. when we arrived We were expected and were ushered within the thick compound walls single file into a large air conditioned meeting room with marble floors, leather chairs and a surveilance monitor with my car awaiting out in the alley front and center. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMB1TqWzaI/AAAAAAAAAo0/LqqrgJRT7tc/s1600-h/016.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMB1TqWzaI/AAAAAAAAAo0/LqqrgJRT7tc/s200/016.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270058004276235682" /></a><br /><br />Our host was unlike the weathered sunglassed faces that possed around his property. He was middle aged, well groomed, and greeted us each with a bottle <br />of water and a soft skinned hand shake. He smiled with perfect teeth<br />a perfect mustache and stood short but tall in a perfectly pressed shirt. we were tired, dusty and sweaty palmed. An hour before we had had breakfast<br />with a local that had filled us with horror stories about this man and his connections and other possible businesses. Our meeting started casually and <br />revolved around the interpretor. When it was discovered that we would need a document, Castro would pause, make a call and moments later a courier would be<br />at the door panting with a freshly typed up document.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMB08Ix1lI/AAAAAAAAAos/r_ETlgze94Q/s1600-h/003.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMB08Ix1lI/AAAAAAAAAos/r_ETlgze94Q/s200/003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270057997961385554" /></a><br /><br /> We discussed legistics, partnership details and the use of Castro's planes. Yeah of course this story wouldn't fit the bill if it didn't involve a<br />private air strip and planes awaiting. We concluded the meeting and on our way out admired his car collection and reconveined in the alley. In mexico there are many<br />parties struggling for power and pilaging or taxing the people. The government patrols with the military. Federali cops patrol with little oversite. <br />Local cops patrol with even less oversite. then<br />there are mafia types and militia gangs. Who's on top, who knows? Our association with Castro keeps everyone away. Who is he? Thats not our business, our<br />business is to find gold, and keep our promises. I am kind of intrigued by him, but I figure it wouldn't pay to dig for anything around here other than gold.<br /><br />What am I doing down here? <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMH_2A3IYI/AAAAAAAAApM/VgVZEjzavis/s1600-h/037.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMH_2A3IYI/AAAAAAAAApM/VgVZEjzavis/s400/037.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270064782365892994" /></a><br /> Sitting on a gold mine by my self with a bunch of rusty equipment. I play around on it till my imagination runs dry or I get embarassed<br />because I think someone is watching me pretend to drive tracktors that are not turneed on. I can hit a pop can with my sling shot from ten yards and I know<br />where a den of jack rabbits are come thanksgiving. I learned "G, D, C and E'm" on my Mandoline. I tarred the roof of my trailer this morning and just<br />climed the highest hill in the area. Its beautifull down here. The moonhas been bright at night and the sunsets on the desert landscape are always <br />spectacular.<br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMIAdH6PMI/AAAAAAAAApU/C5FNIRIYyXc/s1600-h/049.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMIAdH6PMI/AAAAAAAAApU/C5FNIRIYyXc/s400/049.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270064792864439490" /></a><br /><br />I found a local cheese maker and a tortillaria, so I pretend I am in france. Instead of being close to everything, I am fifty miles from the nearest gas station<br />and twenty two kilometers from the nearest street light. I made pinto beans yesterday, and it took all day. I am reading Down the River by Edward Abby. <br />Talk about coincidence, Abby left the day he cast his ballot for the 1980 elections then went on yet another river trip. The story is in journal form and its<br />the same calendar day as the day I started this trip the day after I cast my ballot. You guys know more about him than I do, but he talks alot about mining <br />and industrialization, mexican labor and ruening the earth with our urban foot print. Its easy to come to the same conclusions as he does when I look out <br />across the beautifull desert from the top of a hill. I see the magnificence of the desert vegitation, sense the struggle for life, admire the hillsides, <br />and then contrast it with the view of a fifty year old pit mine that looks like a wound that has never healed. I look at the power lines and dirt roads <br />that bisect the landscape. I view the trash we leave and listen to the heavy trucks rattle back and fourth. I imagine all the open pits that we created,<br />so that we could make those trucks, and the fuel they consume so we can make more pits, and I close my eyes and imagine them all gone. You can't have to <br />much of a concience and carry on being human. Even the most fervant environmental lawyer drives a Toyota Tacoma. Its all hypocracy. Where do we begin?<br /><br />It would help though if we all realized that gems and gold only hold the value we place on them. Gold makes things shiny, and has a few electrical applications.<br /> what else does it do? What do dimonds do on our fingers mounted in gold. Its simplifies the human race down to that of a hungry fish that strikes at a shiney luer.<br />We like shiney things, and are enamored and estemed by glitery objects. They cost lives and create huge holes in the earth, reck landscapes and waste time, the only true gold we will ever have.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMDzZa3CHI/AAAAAAAAAo8/7spb2PPbbrI/s1600-h/010.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMDzZa3CHI/AAAAAAAAAo8/7spb2PPbbrI/s400/010.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270060170485368946" /></a><br /><br />The tremendous cost of a miner to aquire and a consumer to buy a piece of gold. What do I do if I find a nugget of gold, should I smile? should that make me happy? I'm not sure what I am supposed to do. What a miner can find in one life time amounts to a small pile of Gold. How much promise does a pile of gold yeild, and how big a pile would you trade your life for?Its an easy annology. What are you trading your life for right now? A garage full of stuff from Walmart, a car that people esteme? Its all worth thinking about, what are we exchanging our youth, vitality and life for? Is it the promise of something in the future, like freedom in retirement? All in all I still think the promise of retirement is a crazier idea than looking for gold in mexico.<br /> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMH_WJKAVI/AAAAAAAAApE/_7iunvgBBxQ/s1600-h/024.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SSMH_WJKAVI/AAAAAAAAApE/_7iunvgBBxQ/s400/024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5270064773810749778" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-5318166483311892462008-11-05T20:21:00.000-08:002008-11-07T09:38:10.353-08:00Hundred things to do in life....work on a political campaingne<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRfiCg7H-I/AAAAAAAAAnM/rnWP3xW36Ng/s1600-h/255.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRfiCg7H-I/AAAAAAAAAnM/rnWP3xW36Ng/s400/255.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265938902698106850" /></a><br />Check.<br /><br />If you were bugged to vote and received piles of handbills on your doorstep in the last month it could have been me. Funny how it works, I hate to be harassed my self, I resent being invaded with phone calls and junk mail and yet I jumped at the opportunity to work with a political organization for this election. Why was it so easy to be a pest and pass out alot of stuff that goes straight to the bin? Well,i figure that its unacceptable that half of Americans don't bother to vote, and under this current administration we have dumpsters full of metal and usable lumber. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRxWD04A_I/AAAAAAAAAoE/73K9_4gwrJ4/s1600-h/055.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRxWD04A_I/AAAAAAAAAoE/73K9_4gwrJ4/s320/055.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265958488101094386" /></a><br /><br />The efforts by the politicians may be annoying to us, but our lifestlye and foreign policy has become life threatening to the world and our greatest threat to national security. I was ashamed to fly my American flag while sailing around the world. I am not ashamed of our ideals. I am not ashamed of where I come from. But those stars and stripes have a different meaning today. I am ashamed that we have insulted world leaders and not done our part to move forward on world wide issues where the rest of the community has.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRegBoRSWI/AAAAAAAAAnE/tJGLnOU0ws4/s1600-h/390.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRegBoRSWI/AAAAAAAAAnE/tJGLnOU0ws4/s400/390.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265937768589117794" /></a><br /><br /><br />I had a blast. As you can see I got to see a life long hero up close and almost shake his hand. John Elway was the Denver Broncos quarterback while I was a kid and in love with football. Seeing him in person was really cool. He is a big human, bigger than I thought. I had to wait through a few speakers, but I got to hear him, and it was for me a life time opportunity.<br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRJxSHUT0MI/AAAAAAAAAm8/VxgK-bqDz2E/s1600-h/340.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRJxSHUT0MI/AAAAAAAAAm8/VxgK-bqDz2E/s400/340.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265395470365348034" /></a><br /><br />One of my favorite memories was running into an old college alum, while wearing a pink cowboy hat and a pair of retro roller skates. Yes I was a paid goon, and I probably contributed to how annoying this last campaign became.<br /><br />Funny, I learned nothing about politics, but not because I didn't ask questions, all was not lost I had day after day of opportunity to observe America. I learned that if you ask someone how the electoral college works, they typically recite a few of the same text book answers then realize there is a gap in their own understanding and they reach for a friend, the friend provides justification for the electoral system yet the gaps remains. Its one of those issues that most people have a question about, but no one follows it to the end. Nodding and assuring understand is less painful and gets most people by. Who is the electoral person in your area? Where are they, and do they have to vote with the people? That depends on the state. Its great, it makes no sense, but that confusion incites nothing.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRjmYhYplI/AAAAAAAAAnU/2df0q8N4Dec/s1600-h/006.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRjmYhYplI/AAAAAAAAAnU/2df0q8N4Dec/s400/006.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265943375371609682" /></a><br /><br /><br />If you were a Martian you would scratch your noggin at this. In America we turn lights on during the day even though we have the sun. We have this idea that our personal freedom and Independence is tied to driving in a car alone even though it means we spend hours of our own day in the trafficked jammed lanes, side by side with other solo drivers who feel they are exercising their freedom and rights while the four passaenger cars jammed with two humans fly by at top speeds in the empty carpool lane. Who's free? This is the most impressive behavior: we travel the earths surface and bore its depths with tremendous equipment sourcing out various metals. <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRxWXUvwVI/AAAAAAAAAoM/0zOS9lQWlfQ/s1600-h/029.JPG"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRxWXUvwVI/AAAAAAAAAoM/0zOS9lQWlfQ/s320/029.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265958493335044434" /></a><br />We capture those metals, refine them, use them for some human purpose for a short while and then we discard them and they are mixed back up with other materials and we try to then put them back into the earth. If you could watch us, there would be a few obvious ways to make our existence alot easier. Let me tell you that if a mining operation found this much resource in an area the size of a dumpster every employee in the operation could retire rich.<br /><br />We need a leader. This new guy brought more people to the streets on a Sunday than any football game, and the world was dancing all at the same moment for the first time in history. Hes going to bring us together. I'm not talking about the suburbs and rural America, if you think Obama is a terrorist, or your still nervous around black people, well frankly we cant afford to wait for you at this point. I'm talking about making america and its ideas popular again. Its not about us its about war, genocide, tremendous waste and we do not have the right to waste the worlds resources.<br />Ignore the news and take a look around, while I was a away I heard horror stories of depression but my observations are that we are not in desperate times over here. The carpool lanes are empty, and people leave their lights on all day and there are dumpsters full of resources. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtnBLKjfI/AAAAAAAAAn8/uH1ZkhF6YRk/s1600-h/048.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtnBLKjfI/AAAAAAAAAn8/uH1ZkhF6YRk/s320/048.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265954381400542706" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtmxPJddI/AAAAAAAAAn0/I5cwtroxeXc/s1600-h/031.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtmxPJddI/AAAAAAAAAn0/I5cwtroxeXc/s320/031.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265954377122280914" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtmvXwZAI/AAAAAAAAAns/OwQw6c4LmrQ/s1600-h/020.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtmvXwZAI/AAAAAAAAAns/OwQw6c4LmrQ/s320/020.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265954376621515778" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtmDHgKNI/AAAAAAAAAnk/Q7i1FRoKTv8/s1600-h/018.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtmDHgKNI/AAAAAAAAAnk/Q7i1FRoKTv8/s320/018.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265954364742183122" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtly3ZmdI/AAAAAAAAAnc/ZsSDYfsBl54/s1600-h/001.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SRRtly3ZmdI/AAAAAAAAAnc/ZsSDYfsBl54/s320/001.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5265954360379677138" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-51791990577206336412008-10-13T03:24:00.001-07:002008-10-13T04:23:39.612-07:00Wow, hitting the news stand makes you wonder. The year has passed; cruising through the Bahamas was great, the Caribbean was worthy, crossing the Atlantic was once in a lifetime, the Azores was an undiscovered paradise, Spain lax and dreamy, England rainy and unwelcoming but worth visiting because there are so many Kiwis. Then France was heaven with Angels and all the rest. It has been such an inspiring year! The world seems so accessible now, people seem so welcoming and life seems harmonious.<br />But what’s this, the world is in turmoil. I’m not sure what is really going on. One phenomina seems blantant: TV and the periodicals have a lot to do with it. The media perpetuates these catastrophic events by spreading the fear. Shut it off. <br /><br />The first newspaper I see shows this:<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMiecGmVwI/AAAAAAAAAlk/bMTQLQAF2Hw/s1600-h/040.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMiecGmVwI/AAAAAAAAAlk/bMTQLQAF2Hw/s400/040.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256583096406791938" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />The Magazine underneath it shows this:<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMieb04AxI/AAAAAAAAAls/3UJKO6QpVig/s1600-h/042.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMieb04AxI/AAAAAAAAAls/3UJKO6QpVig/s400/042.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256583096332452626" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Both are illustrating what’s going on in the world. Yeah the rich are having a ball still and we are in turmoil. But I am poor and I didn’t feel the world shake. The Financial times said the world shook. Well, not enough to rock my boat, nor the rest of the boats and these guys seem to be carrying on as planned. <a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMie2ZrMxI/AAAAAAAAAl0/FN4-UwGd5ZQ/s1600-h/046.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMie2ZrMxI/AAAAAAAAAl0/FN4-UwGd5ZQ/s400/046.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256583103466124050" /></a><br /><br /> It's time to go sailing. Its really time, maybe the promises of retirement that we live for, won't exist in ten-fourty years. What if you lived your life based on a promise, and it turned out to be a lie? You might be reay to kill, eh?. Well its nothing new, if you planned on retiring with your "investments" in realestate or the stockmarket, its not time to retire its time to go back to work. <br />If you would rather not get caught up in all the doom and gloom, and jobs seem hard to come by,or the pay is not worth your time even, then do what you can to get a sailboat. Get a small one, put this lie to rest and start the dream. It would be hard to convince me that this was'nt the greatest year to have gone by. As the news pumps this demoralizing saga and the dark clouds of depression loom ahead, the world of sailing is beeming. The wind will always blow and exploring this earth will always be fantastic. I've got pictures of more smiles and magic moments this year than any other. I missed all of what happened on TV but I am soo excited about what lies ahead. <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMtmwfY9tI/AAAAAAAAAmM/zwICnJUnN68/s1600-h/P1010004.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMtmwfY9tI/AAAAAAAAAmM/zwICnJUnN68/s400/P1010004.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256595333946341074" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMtmdhpjLI/AAAAAAAAAl8/9uVxo_JWrcY/s1600-h/P1010002.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMtmdhpjLI/AAAAAAAAAl8/9uVxo_JWrcY/s400/P1010002.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256595328855542962" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMtmr85jzI/AAAAAAAAAmE/OsFC2ZnE2L4/s1600-h/033.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMtmr85jzI/AAAAAAAAAmE/OsFC2ZnE2L4/s400/033.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256595332727934770" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMtm6uYA5I/AAAAAAAAAmU/yMQRsdMFLUA/s1600-h/Dan+and+Glory+003.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMtm6uYA5I/AAAAAAAAAmU/yMQRsdMFLUA/s400/Dan+and+Glory+003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256595336693547922" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMvIfznbVI/AAAAAAAAAmc/0oKM8TUa7JA/s1600-h/Dan+and+Glory+024.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMvIfznbVI/AAAAAAAAAmc/0oKM8TUa7JA/s400/Dan+and+Glory+024.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256597013094952274" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMvIodSUYI/AAAAAAAAAmk/srpmaVY8LKY/s1600-h/P1010003.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMvIodSUYI/AAAAAAAAAmk/srpmaVY8LKY/s400/P1010003.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256597015417213314" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMvI6lDeRI/AAAAAAAAAms/jo7EyiXJdDo/s1600-h/090.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SPMvI6lDeRI/AAAAAAAAAms/jo7EyiXJdDo/s400/090.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256597020281633042" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-83627901668519496602008-10-10T09:03:00.000-07:002008-10-10T09:11:22.710-07:00Notes from the Streets abroad<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SO99fvN-QsI/AAAAAAAAAlc/HDNaz5SCvo4/s1600-h/045.JPG"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SO99fvN-QsI/AAAAAAAAAlc/HDNaz5SCvo4/s400/045.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5255557274369147586" /></a><br />London never rests; its streets display the worlds latest fashion trends and its buildings house an epicenter for a globally linked financial system. It might be safe to say it’s not the best time to seek a job in finance, but gearing up with the right threads is as cheap now as it will ever be at fifty percent off in this shop. This would indicate that the need to go out and get that suit and tie has dropped in half according to the invisible hand of Economics. While underneath it all there seems to be an investment opportunity in the manufactures of “manikins in despair”.<br />Shopping remains a dominant activity in western culture, and in these slow times shops are plastered with discount signs. “No one’s buying anything, so everything’s on sale”, that’s the word on the streets, from Shane Smart a London Civil engineer. How long does fashion hold on as a “need” in such uncertain times? In England, for those keeping it fresh, the trend is to style up at the second hand boutiques called “opportunity shops”. These boutiques are registered charities that receive donated clothes from various department stores. They sell the clothes, generating funds for the blind, the homeless and others in need. It’s recycling, its charity, it’s cheap and it’s called “opshopping”.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-64470954169017337962008-10-06T07:28:00.000-07:002008-10-06T12:13:13.948-07:00The Noche Challenge<OBJECT class=BLOG_video_class id=BLOG_video-bb11e1df1b5ea4c7 height=266 width=320 contentId="bb11e1df1b5ea4c7"></OBJECT>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-86396705528202255132008-10-05T02:41:00.000-07:002008-10-06T07:41:30.738-07:00Lysol<p><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyipdfa2wRKFiHEx5oLImKEWr4Xr1LikqdPtdeXiK-ud6yiWKCeTYEQ_srZw-C8p1qY8lJKyCpX7gKKEVXg0A' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></p><p>Putting the boat away :(</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-53629455420470165722008-09-29T05:50:00.000-07:002008-10-01T00:26:17.414-07:00La Rochelle<A href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SODQIaczh-I/AAAAAAAAAeM/X3oCMP0BxiU/s1600-h/080.JPG"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251426008471668706 style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SODQIaczh-I/AAAAAAAAAeM/X3oCMP0BxiU/s400/080.JPG" border=0></A>Delicatessens and Pardon my “French” :)I arrived in La Rochelle late Friday evening. It was a long sail in the sun from dusk to musk. My face was caked with salt and pink from baby sun screen. The customs agents were waiting at the dock for me as I pulled into my slip. Flying the American flag as you go about the world these days raises flags of other types . They were great, they asked me, “Obama, or McCain?” I said “Obama”. They said, “Se bon, enjoy your stay.” It seems to be on everyone’s mind. They are worried we won’t make change, and the World, from what I have seen is losing or has lost its endearment for America. We have an important role in the World, and our leader affects everyone and They realize it. But this journal is not a political forum, it’s just an observation. I am asked three times a day and even told I need to go home by November to vote for Obama. I found a pair of scissors in the shower and there went all my hair. Se bon.I get a lot of attention for being an American. Not a lot of us travel. The Canadians travel. The Australians and New Zealanders, they travel. Americans, we drive cross country, go to Mexico, Canada, and the Caribbean. There is so much to see without needing a passport. In the Marina here, there must be one thousand boats. There are three Canadian boats next to me. I have looked, and you know I am desperate for another American right now, because everyone here speaks French but me. No, the biggest marina in Europe and little Noche’s flag is the only stars and stripes I have seen. You guys owe me, I could be a big jerk right now and that would make you guys all big jerks too. At ease, please, I am rebuilding the faith in America over here. <A href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SODSnmpi0PI/AAAAAAAAAek/Z1BR1rJzmB8/s1600-h/093.JPG"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251428743345524978 style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SODSnmpi0PI/AAAAAAAAAek/Z1BR1rJzmB8/s320/093.JPG" border=0></A>Today I took some friends sailing. It was sunny, warm with light winds and three Frenchies. One was Christian, one Atheist, one Muslim and me. We had a ball and we worked well as a team. Sailing is not accessible to all, but it is hugely dominant in the media and culture here. It was a treat for them. Anyway France has such a multi cultural history, I forgot beer, and the wind was slow so we had to touch on religion. We all connected in that little microcosm. At that moment we felt like we were all in the same boat; hey! We are all in the same boat.<A href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SODQ7R9tqPI/AAAAAAAAAeU/gS2da5kyt9I/s1600-h/100.JPG"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251426882367105266 style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SODQ7R9tqPI/AAAAAAAAAeU/gS2da5kyt9I/s400/100.JPG" border=0></A>I am so amazed by the French demeanor. I used to think that they were rigid, stuck up and particular. Now they seem gentle and focused on the finer aspects of life. When you walk into a store they say “hello”. When you leave they “say good bye”. When you see someone you know, man or woman you kiss both cheeks. If you come across a group of your friends, look out, it can be very time consuming just doing the kiss greeting to each person can hold you up for a while, so you have to pick your route through town. The guys kiss each other too. I have never seen a gentler group of people. There is so much kissing going on all the time. Everyone is always kissing. A pub is more or less a kissing booth. If you are a bar tender you know a hundred people and those hundred people stop in everyday to say hi, and saying hi, means doing the double kiss thing. For us the bar tender might get the nod, or a high five which is my arm and your arms length away. Our greeting is two arms length away. What does that mean? For me, now, here, I have to shower, and maybe consider using soap now because my bubble is no longer two arms length away. But really, I see how close these people are and it blows me away. You ride in a little car and your shoulders are touching. How could you ever get into a fight when you were busy kissing everyone you were talking with. Laugh out loud, check this out, they really don’t understand why we say “Pardon my French” when we say a bad word. I guess I don’t either, besides the roots of our language, but they get a kick out of the idea that somewhere else in the world when un couth language, fesses or vulgar terms for the act of love are mentioned, it must be excused for being “French like”. How’s that supposed to go over? :)Can you spot Noche?<A href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SODR5Fop_gI/AAAAAAAAAec/mYobd6zbIik/s1600-h/091.JPG"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251427944209448450 style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SODR5Fop_gI/AAAAAAAAAec/mYobd6zbIik/s400/091.JPG" border=0></A>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-22674870824049848282008-09-24T06:58:00.000-07:002008-09-24T07:16:47.022-07:00Flick of the day<OBJECT class=BLOG_video_class id=BLOG_video-bc42810704b14ec1 height=266 width=320 contentId="bc42810704b14ec1"></OBJECT>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7494064857010749888.post-17552893892042077772008-09-23T12:45:00.000-07:002008-09-24T07:47:57.030-07:00Bon Apetite<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwxcvntwnM-68toyzLsTClWtx_B3sHtIcgv6aVsZuQwG7WGqNEnTDClQMJv7gdJcvWfZuXaLDu4c4kwZ82hmfhc3zeGL7HX65V316t59rcZSEBz1p12oA-9XD1gvadIoJEaCXPlN6ei0/s1600-h/003.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXwxcvntwnM-68toyzLsTClWtx_B3sHtIcgv6aVsZuQwG7WGqNEnTDClQMJv7gdJcvWfZuXaLDu4c4kwZ82hmfhc3zeGL7HX65V316t59rcZSEBz1p12oA-9XD1gvadIoJEaCXPlN6ei0/s400/003.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249594680150816562" /></a><br /><A href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlYFHpgDFI/AAAAAAAAAd0/Kx7lud1JXOg/s1600-h/054.JPG"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249323685652728914 style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlYFHpgDFI/AAAAAAAAAd0/Kx7lud1JXOg/s400/054.JPG" border=0></A> “France”. I grew up with the idea that to go to this place it calls for a distinguished and well cultured, even wealthy individual. lol... I also remember from our own history that they gave us a statue, taught us about liberty and helped us fight for our independence. These days they have a reputation for being rude when you don’t attempt to speak their language while in their country, and they turned on US recently when they didn’t believe in the fight. hmmm... A good old traveling friend of mine, “English Owen” and I set off for France from the south coast of England last week after being refused entrance to the UK. In the mariners world the “French” are sticklers for safety, insurance, and paperwork. In the English world, the French are traditionally second best and overall rude. Owen and I set off with low expectations for the crowd ahead.<A href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlYFuIXG4I/AAAAAAAAAd8/wMFdy0SZbqg/s1600-h/089.JPG"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249323695982713730 style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlYFuIXG4I/AAAAAAAAAd8/wMFdy0SZbqg/s400/089.JPG" border=0></A> We crossed the channel, dropped anchor, and slept till a squad of customs duardos knocked on the hull. We endured an exhaustive but friendly shake down, and then set foot in the land of tiny coffee and fresh bread. We walked around the old Napoleonic streets and grinned at the refined cafes that stretched out onto the sidewalks and into the public squares. Owen tried his luck with the native tongue and instantly this older couple was walking us around the town in search of the best Creperie. We were on our heels how nice everyone seemed. Then we sailed to the next town… where a local drove us to a Saturday Farmer’s market to do our shopping, bought us coffee and toured us around an entire Island. At our next destination upon landfall we were invited to a potluck and disco party by a stagecoach driver. Then in the next town we met a large group of air traffic controllers who were unexpectedly interesting and fun. <A href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlYEt3-t8I/AAAAAAAAAds/3NRgk-Ec2nk/s1600-h/044.JPG"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249323678734137282 style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlYEt3-t8I/AAAAAAAAAds/3NRgk-Ec2nk/s400/044.JPG" border=0></A> The next day a bicyclist in full leotard zoomed past as I stood on a foot path admiring boats in the bay. He screeched on his breaks and came back to enjoy the view and have a chat. It worked great; since I couldn’t speak he would! Shoot you don’t both have to speak French, just one, and he was able to keep the “conversation” going the whole time. I learned all about his bike schedule and the walking trials around the town of Brest. That evening Owen and I met a group of students who entertained us for hours singing and humming hundreds of songs that we all knew from the eighties, nineties and today till the Bars closed down. The day after that a couple of organic farmers picked me up hitch hiking and we ended up going out for dinner, playing pool and having drinks till two in the morning. Owen, being full blood English is particularly upset. Day after day were having astonishing ease with travel. Without coming here it’s easy to boycott French fries and generalize about a people. Having this past week’s experiences we would say that the Frenchies are lovely. These folks will stop what they are doing and spend their entire day with you. I guess a snear in Paris is the same as a honk from a New York cabby, don’t take it personal, go beyond Paris when you’re in France, and get out of the way when you’re in New York. <A href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlT1waJzGI/AAAAAAAAAdc/R13qLY5iiUI/s1600-h/059.JPG"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249319023669791842 style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlT1waJzGI/AAAAAAAAAdc/R13qLY5iiUI/s320/059.JPG" border=0></A> Renewed and excited about the French, Owen took a bullet train to Paris and then a flight back to London and I caught some easterly winds around the Finistair peninsula to Belle Ile. Today I discovered I am living my dream. I look out at my view of the world and I want for nothing. Maybe its because the people I often meet are on their dream vacation. Sailing is a lot of work, I put in more all-nighters than any sixty hour a week guy on Wall Street, but the reward is direct and intrinsically evolving. Sailing offers little control, and it’s the slowest means to do anything, but somehow I feel I get to go directly for what I am after. It’s a lifestyle where one doesn’t have to wait fifty one weeks doing something unrelated in exchange for a week of the dream. Every day is a view that a camera cant capture and my big screen comes with all the sensations of smell, temperature and emotion. Now I am dead broke but I feel like I am the wealthiest guy on earth. I hope to avoid the lifestyle of buying a car to get to a job that pays my car payment. Please help to remind me of all of this if I get lost because it’s time to get a job, so I can afford to buy some time off again.<A href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlV5SnhwuI/AAAAAAAAAdk/f1vXSFVLWaQ/s1600-h/039.JPG"><IMG id=BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249321283415556834 style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_PShv36nWIuQ/SNlV5SnhwuI/AAAAAAAAAdk/f1vXSFVLWaQ/s320/039.JPG" border=0></A><br /><OBJECT class=BLOG_video_class id=BLOG_video-FAILED height=266 width=320 contentId="FAILED"></OBJECT>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1