Watching the lightning bugs flicker outside the window I realised that after 8-months on the road we had only 8-nights left before we would board a plane and head for England and home. Except this time it is different because our ‘home’ is no longer ours to return to, it is rented and will remain so almost indefinitely.
I was 80-years too late, but then I suspect I knew I always would be. The canning factories are still there but they have been dressed up in bright new paint and fancy lettering.
I had studied The Devil’s Acre Almanac carefully and was well pleased with the look of the restorative libation that was placed before me on a small cast iron table.
My Kosher Salami Omelette with Hash Browns and Siberian Dark Rye Bread was set in front of me on the counter quickly followed by a big mug of steaming filter coffee. Life was taking a big turn for the better.
My neck aches this evening, but on the plus side I have some excellent remedial treatment in the form of a bottle of General Sherman IPA from the craft ale folk at Tioga-Sequoia Brewery in Fresno, California.
“Awesome!” said my waitress and spun on her heels to fetch my double-shot Guatemalan Americano with half-water and a side of steamed milk.
Sharks get a bad press, a very bad press. More people each year are killed by dogs in the United States alone than are killed by sharks worldwide. So why do these highly evolved creatures evoke such feelings of dread and fear?
HMS Bounty set sail from the South Pacific island of Tahiti on the 5th April 1789. The crew of 46 had enjoyed a 5-month layover during which their main employment had been to gather breadfruit plants to transport to the British Colonies in the West Indies to grow as cheap food for the slaves. Many men had lived ashore and led promiscuous and hedonistic lives among the native women. Captain William Bligh had remained chaste himself, but was tolerant of the wanton lives of his crew and wrote “the allurements of dissipation are beyond anything that can be conceived”.
It was Saturday evening and the last place I had expected to find myself was in a cell in the main police station in downtown Papeete, capital city on Tahiti in French Polynesia.
I like to spend time on the edges of oceans. There is something about this marginal coastal territory, this meeting point of two totally different environments, that fascinates me. To walk from solid ground into the water and then to float, swim and dive is a form of flying, a feeling of weightlessness and fluidity, a near liberation from the pull of gravity. It is also a departure from all that we know and are accustomed to and for some this is alien and fearful.
Ashby's World 