A sunny surprise week in autumn. See here.
A long way round …
but with keen-eyed supporters and a happy flag, …
we sailed in to a top-ten finish. Hooray!
“Africa, your sufferings have been the theme that has arrested and engaged my heart. Your sufferings no tongue can express, no language impart.” (William Wilberforce)
See my paper “The Crisis of the Secularization of Society, What Africa has to offer the world: Implausibility structures and the deconstruction of defeater beliefs”, which you can read here.
Another damp and drizzly day in the North-West and I am longing for the desert …
“Sitting in the flickering light of the candles on this kerchief of sand, on this village square, we waited in the night. We were waiting for the rescuing dawn–or for the Moors. Something, I know not what, lent this night a savour of Christmas. We told stories, we joked, we sang songs. In the air there was that slight fever that reigns over a gaily prepared feast. And yet we were infinitely poor. Wind, sand, and stars. The austerity of Trappists. But on this badly lighted cloth, a handful of men who possessed nothing in the world but their memories were sharing invisible riches.”
Antoine De Saint-Exupéry, Wind, Sand and Stars.
An old classic quote by Sterling Hayden from his book Wanderer:
“To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise, you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea … ‘cruising’ it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.
‘I’ve always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can’t afford it.’ What these men can’t afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of ‘security.’ And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine – and before we know it our lives are gone.
What does a man need – really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in – and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s all – in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade.
The years thunder by, The dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed. Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?”
Anvil Island is the studded gem of the Howe Sound. From the granite spire of Leading Peak (at 754m), you are treated to a superb 360 degree vista, leading your eye all the way from the Georgia Straight through the Sound right up the Squamish valley to towering Mt Garibaldi behind.
From Snug Cove on Bowen Island it makes for a 7hour testy adventure; a 30km paddling round trip through glacier-tinged waters, with an unnervingly steep hike in the middle.
The wind flags the faded prayers
No one notices
Except in passing a glance
At the known
Pray only for the unknown
Look across shrinking glaciers
Huddled in a hut
Alien the Priest of people
Solo climb the line with our eyes
Caress the cold iced cracks
Warm our hands
Feel the anticipation
Lets kneel and bow our heads