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T-Rump Day

I’ll shoot! A juvenile CANADIAN Bald Eagle guarding his perch area. Is this a prophetic view of politics to come?

Three young eagles. They gave the dogs a close scrutiny. Yum!

Saturday morning, January 11^th. I’ve been sitting here since 05:00 winking at my reflection in the window. It is now 07:20, ther glimmer of dawn appeared about a half-hour ago. It has been a pristine night with a sky full of stars over the harbour. Now puffs of fog are forming under a clear sky. I may see frost when the light brightens. Yep another sleepless night since 04:00. I used to work the mate’s watch and stood at the helm from midnight to six am. There was no daylight on that shift in winter and upcoast on the afternoon watch it was often dark by three-thirty in the afternoon. I’m used to it and I hate it. This old flower needs his sunshine. Official dawn is forecast for 08:06, sunset is to be 16:40. That’s a little over eight and a half hours, no time for laying around today. The first sunlight we saw this year was a for few minutes on the 6^th. That light is precious.

I’m still nineteen with all the frustrations of that time, yes ALL, and even more nasty is the seventy-something decrepit body I’m trapped in. I truly did not think I’d live this long and so did not look after myself. I’m the classic cliche. The memories of all the foolish and daring things I’ve done don’t thrill me much now at all. Like most younger folks I once looked on geezers as some sort of separate species. Now here I am. I just hope I don’t carry any of those old man smells. This too is coming to you.

My dear sister made me two bags filled with buckwheat. I put them in the micro wave oven for two minutes and have some delightful and enduring warm comfort on my old knees. One knee was replaced last year but so far the pain is equal in both. I have always loved ambling up mountains and into valleys beyond, along beaches and country roads. Now I realize that those days may be gone but damnit, I’m gonna to force the issue every way I can. Meanwhile the simple joy of a bean bag is bliss.

Bean bags. With two very warm beanbags between my knees it didn’t take my wee girls long to find them. Awwww! Bliss! Their added warmth is appreciated.

There’s that neighbour’s roof again! 10:00 this morning. Clearly the solar panels were on standby. Hopefully the little sloop at the guest dock across the bay has a good heater. At the moment this is the depth of winter. No snow yet. Green shoots are appearing in the flower beds.

And yes, there is frost. It is now January 20^th. T-Rump Day. That character has been issuing edicts and making declarations since the day he was re-elected. His decrees came from a Florida country club, not the White house and folks seemed to accept them even though he had no official voice. Now he’ll be singing “Back In The Saddle Again!” We are living in a neo-version of the ‘Emperor’s New Clothes’ and seem determined to embrace a mass lemming sillyness. Up here in Canada we love to have something to whine about. We are a nation that claims to hate Americans yet most of us live within 50 miles of the US border even though the country runs north and south as far as it does east and west. We are finally realizing we have no political leadership, and have not for a long time. A bully has moved back in next door and we’re crapping ourselves. Well frankly, I perceive that we’ve been the 51^st state since WWII and not much is going to change in that regard. Trump calls us the “Big faucet” up north.

I incessantly rant about Canadians consuming foreign food products. I discovered a lovely-looking frozen vacuum-bagged filet of salmon in the freezer. It had come home with the recent shopping. It is claimed to be sockeye. It looked great. I checked the fine print and discovered it was a product of Chile! Chile? I live in British Columbia! What are we famous for if not our salmon? Chile may be on the same beach as us but it is well around the far side of the planet! . WTF? Then Mr Brain-dead here bought some bagged tree bark to landscape the front yard. As I finished slashing the bags open I noted the labelling. It was a product of Rexford, IDAHO. No! We can’t even supply ourselves with our own tree bark? What else is this province noted for if not it’s timber exports. And I bought into it. I want to break into my sailor expletives but what’s the point. It has been said that “If rape is inevitable, relax and try to enjoy it.” ‘Fraid not!

Chile! THIS is BC! Where did the BC salmon go? It is also worth noting that this filet is not represented as being wild and the mention of antibiotics is a strong hint. How much of the price went to paying for diesel to ship it up here? Think local! Think green! UHUH!

Not this very binary old bilge ape. My finacial acumen is minimal but I understand that for a nation to build a strong economy being able to feed itself is a huge advantage. We certainly possess all those resources and once fed much of the rest of the world. Now we operate like an egg farmer who goes to town to buy eggs for himself at retail prices. Third world economics sell their resources wholesale and buy back finished products retail. Sound uncomfortably familiar? Maybe a global economic wizard for our next Prime Minister is not such a bad idea.

What’s his name again?

A bump in the night. The trunk is about four feet in diameter. A few feet further on another old giant lay in exactly the opposite direction. It was a wild and vicious wind.

On the writer’s desk as I make notes about what we import. Irish whiskey is awfully tough to compete with.

“Nothing is more deadly to achievement than the belief that effort will not be rewarded, that the world is a bleak and discriminatory place in which only the predatory and the specially preferred can get ahead.” – George Gilder

Nowhere Man

Behind the front. This warm front brought a heavy downpour. It’s spring, you can expect anything.

He’s a real nowhere man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody

Doesn’t have a point of view
Knows not where he’s going to
Isn’t he a bit like you and me?
Nowhere man please listen
You don’t know what you’re missing
Nowhere man, the world is at your command

He’s as blind as he can be
Just sees what he wants to see
Nowhere man, can you see me at all
Nowhere man don’t worry
Take your time, don’t hurry
Leave it all ’til somebody else
Lends you a hand
Ah, la, la, la, la

Doesn’t have a point of view
Knows not where he’s going to
Isn’t he a bit like you and me?
Nowhere man please listen
You don’t know what you’re missing
Nowhere man, The world is at your command
Ah, la, la, la, la

He’s a real nowhere man
Sitting in his nowhere land
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody
Making all his nowhere plans for nobody The BEETLES 1965

Allegedly written by John Lennon in a moment of despondancy, there are days when anyone can feel it was meant just for them. It’s OK, the feeling will pass.

Dogs on path. Trilliums are popping up all over. They fade almost as fast.

On the way out already but what’s prettier than a fading flower?

It’s dericulous! Not even Jerkules can get the lids off half the bottles and jars nowadays. Wots goin’ on?When all else failed I used to be able to take pride in my thick wrists and massive hands. Now I’ve found humiliation with a pot of honey! And mayonaise! And jam! My wife smirks discreetly and produces her plastic lid popper. I look forward to the day I hear that wee widget snap in half. I used to be able to open any jar or bottle without any fuss, a clear smug sign of my manliness. Then there are those plastic sacks. Potato chips for example. One can apply the pry of Sampson on them and they won’t yield a milimetre. You try different angles of attack until finally the bloody thing explodes, grenading chips all over the room. If you try to save the remaining contents and roll up the bag, it’ll now rip like wet toilet paper. It’s a plot! Destroy their self-esteem. We’ll over-run them without even wearing gloves.

It can’t be geezerhood. Artificial Intelligence?

Ever heard of PETA? It’s an international organization allegedly dedicated to the welfare of animals. I sent them a humble fifty dollars for the abandoned dogs in Ukraine. Since then, now years later, I incessantly continue to receive thick solicitations for more money. They have spent far more than the original fifty bucks on stationary and postage. There is continuing evidence that Peta also euthanizes thousands of animals regularily. Even elephants! I want no part of a money-grubbing charity with self-serving interests. Enough said.

Fern song. Some go, others arrive. This fern uncoils its fiddlehead in the spring rain.

On a lighter note, in a local marketing app, I found someone was advertising a “Hitch-a-shidder”. It was a toilet seat mounted in a rear bumper trailer hitch on a pickup truck. I guess it’s for those tailgate parties and for what some folks call “glamping.” Just add a seatbelt and you’re good to go! A load for the road!

Dung-ho!

Today is overcast with a light, cold rain. There is a determind rising paranoia about a summer drought so this should assuage the fear a bit. I suppose folks have always worried about the weather, their fate eternally in the grip of some “atmospheric river.” For thousands of years, farmers knew their survival depended on the vagararies of the weather Gods. Now in BC, orchardists and vineyard owners are demanding compensation because they claim their crops were damaged due to harsh winter conditions. As if the government has control over the forces of the spinning planet! I’ve seen beautifully ripe grain harvests destroyed in a five minute hail storm, luschious hay crops wiped out by heavy rain. It is part of the risk of agriculture. Not one farmer is suggesting that in good years will they pay extra taxes. Fishermen have good years, but we only hear about the bad. C’mon folks, the only guaranteed income I know of is when you become a politician. Suck it up!

I’ve just learned this morning about a new documentary called “My Adventures With Assholes.” Finally I’m getting some attention. Admit it or not, we all contribute to this social phenomenon in our scramble toward self-entitlement. I haven’t seen it yet, but I’m sure it will bob up. Mind you, half a nation wants to re-elect a man for president who falls asleep at his own criminal trial and then produces putrid farts. Dern that caviar! As it is said, you can’t make this shit up. This puts a new twist on the verb to ‘ trump.’

Humpty Trumpty produced a great smell

Dropped a bomb among his lawyers

and drove them all to hell.

Let’s see if the spin doctors can fix this one. May the bird of paradise fly up your nose!

“ Today is the tomorrow you were so worried about yesterday.” Anthony Hopkins

Bang

They’ve freakin’ blown it. The Republicans will not win an election for generations. That’s my humble uniformed bog trotter’s opinion. I’ve promised to restrict my political rhetoric but this is so pathetic it demands comment. If the Republicans truly wanted to restore trust and belief in their party all they needed to do was to make a stand and declare that they do not support or condone the abhorrent attitudes expressed by Mr. Trump. “He was our mistake.” This way they have virtually guaranteed a Democrat win next election and probably the next as well. Some Republican senators did vote in support of the impeachment. It is encouraging that these politicians chose to put their country ahead of their party. They will probably be punished for their historic stand. A quirk of politicians, in particular, is that they seem unable to admit mistakes. If only they could confess their human frailty they would be demonstrating a strength which would take them much further than any lie or denial.

As far as I am concerned one party is no better or worse and ongoing political chess games have nothing to do with reuniting the country and putting it back on the rails of peace, prosperity and “In God We Trust.” The “united states” may well dissolve in anarchy and the Second Civil War will be upon us. Yeah, I know we are Canadian but if you don’t see yourself as a North American, you will be rudely awakened when the troubles erupt in full blossom. We’re part of the fiasco.

Yesterday I watched a video clip sent to me by a friend. It was a cell phone recording taken while some goon sat on his ass and watched as a police officer was assaulted by a madman with a large stick. Ultimately the cop shot his assailant twelve times, point blank, before the nutter finally fell down and died, twitching and jerking just like some of the deer I have taken. What appalled me more than the actual graphic detail was the shallowness of the man recording the event. The videographer cheered the policeman and expressed pleasure as a fellow human gasped his last breath not ten feet away. The event was entertainment to him. This pathetic soulless son-of-a-bitch is not alone. There are millions like him…on both sides of the border. Here’s the link if you have stomach enough for a dose of harsh reality. That the perpetrator/victim may have chosen ‘Suicide by Cop’ does not devalue human life.

I’ve confirmed that this is a real event which occurred on Feb. 6^th. It is ironic that this is an area where several fatal shootings of black people by police have occurred. Here a black man encourages a policeman to shoot a white perpetrator. I can’t help wondering what might have happened if he’d gone to help the cop.

https://www.thetruthaboutguns.com/video-crazed-man-attacking-deputy-soaks-up-12-rounds-before-hes-stopped/

After I wrote the above I wrestled with myself while I showered, vacuumed, ate breakfast, walked the dog and shovelled a heap of snow. Dark tabloidism is not my genre. I prefer to provide hope and cheer, introspection and humour with my blogs. The darkness here doesn’t do much to make the world a better place, but sometimes a little slap therapy is in order. I desperately need to find another boat.

By the way, Happy Valentine’s Day. It has something to do with love I’m told.

A wild flower for Valentines. Bee happy.

“Thou shalt not be a victim, thou shalt not be a perpetrator, but, above all, thou shalt not be a bystander.”
― Yehuda Bauer

To The Wall

(Note: This blog is finally being posted eight days after beginning my journey southward From Ladysmith. At present I am in an RV Park in Yuma Arizona. I’ll catch up to immediate events as soon as possible)

Ladysmith, just before the Christmas light-up season ends. The wet street should explain why I am southbound

I’m almost on the road, finally, into the land of Trump, heading for the wall. It has occurred to me how that man could effectively close the gaps in the already half-built fortification, if he simply erected a continuous billboard across the continent, ten feet high with shoulder to shoulder portraits of himself, facing into Mexico. He could be shown waving his hands horizontally as he does, and with a quote saying something like “This will be very effective, very effective, you will pay.” Better than bullets! An endless chain of his porky fizog peering out from beneath that blond mop on his head would certainly repel me. Sorry Republicans, nothing personal, it’s just a repugnance I’ve developed after all the news stories about this character’s latest tweet. (Feel free to slander our own flacid Canadian Prime Minister.) Well, I know that I’m supposed to be a smiling non-partisan guest as I greet each gun-toting American child of God. And so I shall. “Is that a Smith & Wesson in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

A view south from the BC Ferry to the mainland. The big island is Orcas Island in the US San Juan island archipelago

My experience with the ordinary American citizen is that they are warm, friendly, generous and compassionate. They are trusting and complacent which is why they’ve ended up with the porcine fuhrer they presently have. When questioned about the dangers of driving in Mexico I always explain that I’ve beaten the odds once over the Mexican border. After the drive across the US I feel much safer. It is a beautiful land with lots of great people, too bad there is a cloud of constant anxiety above it.

So here I go. The old van I bought has proven to have the usual plethora of used vehicle woes but I sally forth with some tools and optimism. I’ve even cut a hole in the floor above the electric fuel pump which is mounted inside the fuel tank. If that fails, I would otherwise have to remove the entire tank, which of course will be full with gasoline when the fuel pump dies. This is accomplished by squirming underneath the vehicle, on your back, while laying in the dust of a remote desert area. I’ve been in that situation before. There’s no romance to any of it, even looking back. There is no valid excuse for putting a pump inside a tank without providing an access panel like many foreign vehicles. A friend has loaned me a used fuel pump to carry, just in case. I know that since I have that angle covered, Old Murphy will find something else to to nail me with. Well, enough nattering. Shut up and drive! Find a country music station on the radio and let the miles erase the angst. I’m worried that I have forgotten how to relax and how to play. So here goes!

So what is it that I like about Mexico? I love a journey with constantly changing scenery. I love being warm and dry. I love Mexicans. Despite all the negatives I’ve heard I am far more inclined to trust a Mexican than most gringos. I have not met a lazy Mexican, which is why the US economy is built, in no small part, on the backs of these folks. Their economic system does not allow them to sit around leeching off of others. Work or starve. They possess a dignity that defies our comprehension and also the wonderful ability to live in the moment. If you can feed your children today, bueno! Besides, what can you really do about tomorrow? Mucho Gusto!

Mexican also still embrace the concept of family. Both children and the elderly are treasured and provide elements of security within the basic unit of government in any culture. Drugs. Yep a, nasty business, made even worse by the incessant focus of the media. Nature abhors a vacuum and we all know where the huge market is for that poison. Yep, right here! If you want to stop the drug trade, stop buying the shit! There is plenty of violence and death right here at home, drugs or not. By the way, The Mexico and its people I know is always as far away from the tourist centres as possible. There are many folks who go into Mexico, stay in a resort area and never see nor taste the real country. I prefer the back roads, rural areas and remote pieces of coast. I also do not portray myself as a shiny, wealthy, arrogant Northerner. A smile and a sincere effort at the language also goes a long way. Ándale!

Well finally! January 17^th, 10:15 With a mighty boooop of the ship’s horn, we pull away from the ferry dock at Duke Point in Nanaimo. Propitiously, we are exactly on time. The van is two decks below me, stuffed randomly with food, clothing, tools and cameras. I will have to sort it all out later, but the immediate objective is to cross the border. There is an electrical problem, the brand-new battery which runs the house system including lights, fridge, and furnace is flat dead. I need to find out the problem right away so the battery can recharge while driving along. I am dead shattered-weary but I’ll fix it.

There is an exhaustion which is due in part to the stress and duress of preparing the old van, worries about money and the general low health blaahs which I fall into every winter. My arthritis this year has made it difficult to walk at times, to hold a wrench, or even a pen. My handwriting is more terrible than ever. My fingers miss the letters on this keyboard and I understand why as a youngster, I knew old people were often grumpy. Now I get it. I hope that I do not yet exude the old man smell I remember when I’d have to sit near an oldster on some hard oak pew. It was not pleasant. To increase my duress there is a tentative deal cooking on my beloved ‘Seafire’ which is very bittersweet. But I have plans beyond parting with my dear old boat and I assure you, I have not swallowed the hook. There will be another boat, somehow, in my future. I have a dream. Continuing my blog is part of it. Thank you all for your support and your many cheering compliments and creative criticisms.

Onto the mainland and a stop to repair the house battery charging system.
The attempt failed.

So the first hurdle is dealing with Homeland Insecurity as I cross the border. They can see the horn which sprouts on my forehead each time I have to deal with them. I need to thumb through my copy of “ Being Contritious With Bureaucrats For Smart-assed Old Farts.” Perhaps I have enough points to earn a free trip to Guantanamo Bay. As it turns out, they did query me about all my camera bags and if I was going to work in the US. For once, I kept my pie-hole shut and simply answered YES/NO as required.

One of the grand things about travelling in the US is that there are fast food outlets everywhere, in fact it is often difficult to find a real restaurant that serves those jelly belly hi gluten and trans-fat meals otherwise know as home cooking. The fast food joints all have wifi so the blogs will continue to be beamed out to you. You’ve been warned!

I’m told Jack is depressed and missing me. By the time I get home, he’ll probably bite me.

Ps: Here’s a link to a blog posted by my dear friends Tony and Connie. They’re home taking a brief sabbatical from their ongoing wandering sail around the globe. They’ve been on this trip now for nine years…and it ain’t over yet. Tony posted a blog about the walk we went on in the fog at my now-beloved Swallowfield farm on the same day. https://sageonsail.com/

“Courage is the power to let go of the familiar.” …Raymond Lindquist

A Blog About Nothing And Everything

Harvest moon rising through the rigging. Silence, only crickets chirping.

06:30. It’s still dark out there. There is fresh snow on the mountains. An e-mail from Jill tells me she has arrived safely in France. So the setting this morning is cold, dark and lonely. The heater is on in the boat. Tomorrow is the last day of summer. The intense heat of two weeks ago is already forgotten. We’ve had no earthquakes or hurricanes here and I’m sure there are many who would trade places with me. So, no complaining, just explaining.

On the beach. A vicious early-autumn squall tested every boat’s ground tackle. This one failed.

A week later, I’m taking a day off. I’m totally exhausted and have taken to the decadence of sleeping in until mid-morning, like normal people. I go back for a nap after brunch and sleep again despite the sounds of a busy marina all around me. I’m missing Jill, and Jack and have plenty of chores here on the boat to accomplish. Mornings now bring a blast of cold air descending from the glacier. Winter seems to be advancing aggressively. Through the efforts of a friend I’ve been reconnected with a lost friend who bought my last boat, ‘Pax.’ That cheers me immensely and there will be a reunion in the weeks ahead.

PAX, my beloved former boat. Dan, the current owner strolls her decks. Late-breaking news is that Dan has just had emergency bypass surgery. He has my most urgent best wishes. Don’t ever take the day, or even the moment, for granted.
Photo by Byron Robb.

They keep on coming! Billions of them. Herring are the datum of our fish stocks, They eat little fish then are eaten by bigger fish and so on. I wish we would stop the spring herring roe fishery for a couple of years to see what happens to the rest of our fish populations.

A flash of herring. Millions swarm beneath the docks.

Moon Jellyfish by the billion. Salmon fingerlings, baby eels, and perch crowd beneath the docks.

A mid-afternoon fog lingers beneath the Comox Glacier

Waiting it out. the fog slowly dissipates late in the day. Mount Arrowsmith in the distance.

The world staggers under the aftermath of various disasters, both natural and man-made.Friends on their boat in Saint Lucia managed to survive the path of wrath of bumper to bumper Caribbean hurricanes and have sent out an appeal for Dominica. This island is an agriculture-based economy and it has lost both 90% of it’s infrastructure and housing as well as it’s crops. It is not getting much notice. The rest of the Caribbean is in dire straits and the gringo tourist haunts will surely receive prime attention. Southern Mexico has been devastated with two major earthquakes. Resourceful and energetic, the country will look after itself although nations like Japan have provided rescue assistance crews without notice or fanfare. In contrast there is a marauding global low named Trump which meanders erratically on the planet trying to foment disaster and dread, including nuclear war. How I ache to hear the nation say, “Donald, you’re fired!” Every newscast is loaded with fresh accounts about millions of refuges whom nobody wants to help. The planet swarms with human tragedy, the dark news of which we use as entertainment. And sorry Donny Boy, it is REAL news.

Sea Lions on the Cape Lazo buoy. Notice how the big guy gets the level spot in the middle.

I agree. This grumpy old mechanic has asked, “Mister, if you know so much about it, why’d you hire me?” Testosterone and wrenches are a bad mix.

I live in a very nice place where there is not really much to worry about. It is an area where one missing baby whale is a headline story. We tend to forget that here we are all a privileged few. I can’t imagine trading places with any of the millions who cannot take even the next meal for granted, let alone clean water, ready medical support or even walking to school without being shot at. Thanksgiving in Canada is here and it is not about any sale at the mall. As I proof-read this blog I blanched to read my words now in the wake of events in Las Vegas. While I browsed various news stories online I tripped over an ad for the current film “The Hitman’s Bodyguard.’ The abuse of weapons is an ongoing theme of entertainment. There’s something very seriously wrong with our culture and it is not all those guns out there. They’re just a symptom of a grave illness. I’m glad I have a boat.

The swimming raft abandoned. Mid day in Deep Bay. The Chrome Island fog horn sounded in the distance.

It has been quite a year. There has plenty to write about. At the moment we’re hove-to and speculating what the next adventure will be. As usual, old ‘Seafire’ is tugging at her lines, ready to head out. In a few more weeks, when the winter wind is howling in the rigging and the rain is driving horizontally, it’ll be time to move on southward, like the birds.

“Red sky in morning, sailor’s warning.” Not a sight to warm you heart, summer is coming to an end.

Going down in flames. A southbound flight catches the evening light.

“…only then did he understand that a man knows when he is growing old because he begins to look like his father.” …from ‘Love In the Time Of Cholera’ Gabriel Garcia Marquez