A cannon, from the 18th-century sailing ship voyage to the Pacific Ocean, by British Captain James Cook. When one of Cook's ships ran aground in Australia's Great Barrier Reef in June 1770, its cannon lay unrecovered for nearly two centuries.
That is, until the Academy of Natural Sciences, in the 1960s, was collecting fish in the Reef, and discovered several of Cook's cannon. The Australian government donated one of the cannon to the Academy, where it resides on the second floor.
Was it an accident? Or a successful exploritive fishing expedition? Ask the fish!
About Me
- Robbin
- Sacramento, California, United States
- so salty pieces of coral from surfing Hawaii in the 60's and 70's getting reef pounded living in my body fall through my skin from time to time!
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Captain Cook aground-Australia..... 6/10/1770
Cook charted the coast of Australia, until the ship ran aground on the Great Barrier Reef.
In 1969 an American expedition from the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Science was successful in locating the six guns jettisoned on the night of 10 June 1770. Captain Vince Vlassof with his 'Tropic Seas' was of vital local assistance in recovering the six cannons which were transported to Defence Standards Laboratories in Melbourne for reconditioning
Endeavour Reef
Just before 11pm on the evening of 10 June 1770 the ship struck a reef, today called Endeavour Reef, within the Great Barrier Reef. The part they struck stands up steeply from the seabed, so casting the lead had shown 20 fathoms (36 metres) of water right up to the point of striking.
With the sails immediately taken down, the coasting anchor was set out and an attempt made to pull the ship back off the reef, unsuccessfully. Because it was already around high tide the only option was to lighten the ship to float her off, so iron and stone ballast, spoiled stores, and the ships guns were thrown overboard, and the ship's water (drinking water) pumped out. The guns were not simply discarded; Sydney Parkinson records[2] buoys were attached with the intention of retrieving them later, but that proved impractical. (The guns and ballast were found in 1969, see recoveries below.) Parkinson also notes that every man on board took turns on the pumps, including Cook, Banks, and the officers.
With about 40 or 50 tons lightened, by Cook's reckoning, on the high tide the next morning a further attempt was made to pull the ship free, but again unsuccessfully. In the afternoon the longboat carried out the two large bower anchors, and block and tackles were put on a total 5 anchors now set, ready to try again on the evening high tide. The ship started to take on water through the damage from the reef, and though the leak would certainly increase once off the reef Cook decided to risk that. At about 10:20pm the ship floated with the tide and was successfully drawn off. The anchors were retrieved, except for the small bower which could not be freed. (It too was found in 1969; see below).
The leak increased with the ship off the reef, and the three working pumps were manned. A mistake happened in sounding the depth of water in the hold when a new man took over and measured from the outside plank where his predecessor had used the ceiling (the top of the cross-beams of the hull). The difference was about 18 inches so the new man's call made it seem the leak had gained on the pumps that much in just a short time, sending a wave of fear through the ship. As soon as the mistake was realized the relief acted like a charm and with redoubled efforts the pumps kept ahead of the leak.
The prospects if the ship sank were grim. The typical understatement in the journals of the seamen make it easy to underestimate the danger, only in Banks is there a taste of it. For a start the ship was miles from shore and the boats could not carry everyone (being made for work, not as lifeboats) so many would surely drown. And those who survived would be left unarmed and without food in an unknown land. Banks noted the calm efficiency of the crew in the face of danger, contrary to stories he'd heard of seamen turning to plunder and refusing command in such circumstances.
Midshipman Jonathon Munkhouse proposed fothering the ship, having been on a merchant ship which used the technique successfully. He was entrusted with supervising the task, sewing bits of oakum and wool into an old sail which was drawn under the ship, the theory being suction would draw those material to the leak and plug it. This worked better than any hoped and soon the pumps could be stopped and very little water came in.
They proceeded north looking for a harbour to make repairs and on the afternoon of 13 June came to Endeavour River, as Cook later named it. Strong winds prevented the ship getting across the bar until the afternoon of 17 June. There they careened her and made repairs to the hull. A piece of coral the size of a man's fist had sliced clean through the planks of the hull, and broken off, wedged there. It was fortunate it stuck, because (on Parkinson's reckoning at least) an open hole that size would in all probability have sunk the ship.
With repairs made and after a delay waiting for the wind they were able to set off again on the afternoon of 3 August. The careening hadn't got the ship completely out of the water, so only a limited examination of the very bottom had been possible, but it seemed sound enough. When they later reached Batavia (9 November) it turned out some planks were damaged to within 1/8 inch (3 millimetres) of being cut through. It was a "surprise to every one who saw her bottom how we had kept her above water" as Cook said (though doing more at Endeavour River may not have been practical anyway).
Personal note: I sailed into Grafton Passage from Samurai, PNG to Cairns, Aus. Even with modern day equipment it was difficult to find the entrance (one of the few) through the Great Barrier Reef. Later on, different boats I sailed to Port Douglas and Cooktown. I visited the Captain Cook Musuem in Cooktown (impressed) and was very surprised that the artifacts I was interested in were so recently freed from the reef herself! One would think that the father of true navigation would have left (as he tried with buoys) (didn't work) a longitude/latitude reference that would be applicable today. The reef is alive. I believe it hid what it took from Captain Cook until it was time. Many people have searched for the ballast James was compelled to remove from " Endeavor ", to survive! When it was located and brought to the surface, Cooktown itself and a few remaining buildings from a great period, needed help in order to maintain it's status as a city. Possibly the town (named after the greatest sailor and the river named after a his vessel) without the timing of the find of Endeavor's treasure searched for by many but only found in 1969 would be a ghost town today! It's not! At one time Cooktown had a population of 30.000 people. After the gold rush/ and over a period of time it was reduced to 1500 people. With the boost of tourism in North Queensland I believe the population of Cooktown is 2000 souls today. What was retrieved from the Endeavor Reef in 1969 revitalised Cooktown itself, re-establishing it's importance, historically, as part of the life and travels of the greatest sailor the world has ever known. Captain James Cook.
In 1969 an American expedition from the Philadelphia Academy of Natural Science was successful in locating the six guns jettisoned on the night of 10 June 1770. Captain Vince Vlassof with his 'Tropic Seas' was of vital local assistance in recovering the six cannons which were transported to Defence Standards Laboratories in Melbourne for reconditioning
Endeavour Reef
Just before 11pm on the evening of 10 June 1770 the ship struck a reef, today called Endeavour Reef, within the Great Barrier Reef. The part they struck stands up steeply from the seabed, so casting the lead had shown 20 fathoms (36 metres) of water right up to the point of striking.
With the sails immediately taken down, the coasting anchor was set out and an attempt made to pull the ship back off the reef, unsuccessfully. Because it was already around high tide the only option was to lighten the ship to float her off, so iron and stone ballast, spoiled stores, and the ships guns were thrown overboard, and the ship's water (drinking water) pumped out. The guns were not simply discarded; Sydney Parkinson records[2] buoys were attached with the intention of retrieving them later, but that proved impractical. (The guns and ballast were found in 1969, see recoveries below.) Parkinson also notes that every man on board took turns on the pumps, including Cook, Banks, and the officers.
With about 40 or 50 tons lightened, by Cook's reckoning, on the high tide the next morning a further attempt was made to pull the ship free, but again unsuccessfully. In the afternoon the longboat carried out the two large bower anchors, and block and tackles were put on a total 5 anchors now set, ready to try again on the evening high tide. The ship started to take on water through the damage from the reef, and though the leak would certainly increase once off the reef Cook decided to risk that. At about 10:20pm the ship floated with the tide and was successfully drawn off. The anchors were retrieved, except for the small bower which could not be freed. (It too was found in 1969; see below).
The leak increased with the ship off the reef, and the three working pumps were manned. A mistake happened in sounding the depth of water in the hold when a new man took over and measured from the outside plank where his predecessor had used the ceiling (the top of the cross-beams of the hull). The difference was about 18 inches so the new man's call made it seem the leak had gained on the pumps that much in just a short time, sending a wave of fear through the ship. As soon as the mistake was realized the relief acted like a charm and with redoubled efforts the pumps kept ahead of the leak.
The prospects if the ship sank were grim. The typical understatement in the journals of the seamen make it easy to underestimate the danger, only in Banks is there a taste of it. For a start the ship was miles from shore and the boats could not carry everyone (being made for work, not as lifeboats) so many would surely drown. And those who survived would be left unarmed and without food in an unknown land. Banks noted the calm efficiency of the crew in the face of danger, contrary to stories he'd heard of seamen turning to plunder and refusing command in such circumstances.
Midshipman Jonathon Munkhouse proposed fothering the ship, having been on a merchant ship which used the technique successfully. He was entrusted with supervising the task, sewing bits of oakum and wool into an old sail which was drawn under the ship, the theory being suction would draw those material to the leak and plug it. This worked better than any hoped and soon the pumps could be stopped and very little water came in.
They proceeded north looking for a harbour to make repairs and on the afternoon of 13 June came to Endeavour River, as Cook later named it. Strong winds prevented the ship getting across the bar until the afternoon of 17 June. There they careened her and made repairs to the hull. A piece of coral the size of a man's fist had sliced clean through the planks of the hull, and broken off, wedged there. It was fortunate it stuck, because (on Parkinson's reckoning at least) an open hole that size would in all probability have sunk the ship.
With repairs made and after a delay waiting for the wind they were able to set off again on the afternoon of 3 August. The careening hadn't got the ship completely out of the water, so only a limited examination of the very bottom had been possible, but it seemed sound enough. When they later reached Batavia (9 November) it turned out some planks were damaged to within 1/8 inch (3 millimetres) of being cut through. It was a "surprise to every one who saw her bottom how we had kept her above water" as Cook said (though doing more at Endeavour River may not have been practical anyway).
Friday, September 17, 2010
Choices at infinities Kauai-Pakala
Great wave to ride but how does one get there? When I was young I surfed Trestles. It was a hard place to get to.but a great place to ride. Ask the marines. They studied and tried to catch us at Camp Pendelton. Could only catch a few grimmies.
I don't really mean that but I do mean this. On the island of Kauai ia a wave that's kind of like Doheney or " Killer Cowells" Ha! in Santa Cruz. It is a great place to learn how to move a surfboard and at the same time express yourself..
How many wave riding locations are blocked by private property. A surfer is a trespasser. What if you are a star? Or rich?
Pakala, Kauai. was part of the Robinson (sugar cane) plantation. To ride Pakala. one had two choices for an entry point. A two mile legal walk-with your board from the Waimea River or a very quick run from the road through his land to the beach. You can see the break from the road. It isn't even a quarter mile! So here is the story.
Kieth Robinson and his paniolos actually roped some of my friends as they ran through that short pasture. This means they didn't get to surf that day because they had to go to the Lihue police dept. and pay $25 dollars and in certain cases they didn't get their surfboards returned.
Can you imagine being lassoed by a cowboy on horseback or in his jeep on your way to 6' Pakala's?
I could add that it might be really depressing if you were under the influence of psychedelics! Never happened to me. But I was there...
Lumahai Valley, KalalauValley, and the island of Niihau are still owned by a Robinson. Not many people have been to these places but I have. I think they, like all founding haole missionary, business oriented possessers of the land, have given most of what they stold back to the people. No more agriculture!
Tourism. #1.........
So it comes down to this... To surf Pakala;; Do you walk from the Waimea River OR Do you take the chance? Your call......
I don't really mean that but I do mean this. On the island of Kauai ia a wave that's kind of like Doheney or " Killer Cowells" Ha! in Santa Cruz. It is a great place to learn how to move a surfboard and at the same time express yourself..
How many wave riding locations are blocked by private property. A surfer is a trespasser. What if you are a star? Or rich?
Pakala, Kauai. was part of the Robinson (sugar cane) plantation. To ride Pakala. one had two choices for an entry point. A two mile legal walk-with your board from the Waimea River or a very quick run from the road through his land to the beach. You can see the break from the road. It isn't even a quarter mile! So here is the story.
Kieth Robinson and his paniolos actually roped some of my friends as they ran through that short pasture. This means they didn't get to surf that day because they had to go to the Lihue police dept. and pay $25 dollars and in certain cases they didn't get their surfboards returned.
Can you imagine being lassoed by a cowboy on horseback or in his jeep on your way to 6' Pakala's?
I could add that it might be really depressing if you were under the influence of psychedelics! Never happened to me. But I was there...
Lumahai Valley, KalalauValley, and the island of Niihau are still owned by a Robinson. Not many people have been to these places but I have. I think they, like all founding haole missionary, business oriented possessers of the land, have given most of what they stold back to the people. No more agriculture!
Tourism. #1.........
So it comes down to this... To surf Pakala;; Do you walk from the Waimea River OR Do you take the chance? Your call......
Thursday, September 9, 2010
letter-incarcerated son
Well Son,
What can I say? " You are there and I am here"! No matter where you go, there you are.
It kind of keeps you in the moment doesn't it?
I look at life like a boat moving through the water. I am the boat. The bow of the boat divides
the water in front of it as it moves towards a destination. I know where the boat is going because I am driving. I know it will arrive but I can't tell you exactly where or when! In front of the boat are to many intangibles; weather, swells, people, physical obstacles, random events interfere with my plotted course.
My heading sometimes is changed or affected by the bombardment of random, unplanned events.
However, the boat continues with course changes which means the destination changes also....
The boat leaves a wake. Kind of like a record of it's passage. This wake has a ripple or butterfly effect.
When it arrives on shore it is like a breaking wave that little ants paddle out to on their surf boards and
either rip or wipe out, according to their abillity.
The wake of the boat is actually more important than the boat's destination. The wake of a good sized
stink boat is large enough to damage other vessels at anchor or slipped because of it's desire for speed.
If a stink boat follows-the Rules of the Road-, Maritime Law, No one gets hurt and no boats are damaged.
For instance: Sailboats under sail have right of way over any motor driven vessel. But and this is a big but!
One must always remember that even though one has right of way- the real Law of the Ocean is--
MIGHT IS RIGHT.............Never forget this son.
When my sailboat is 1,000 miles from anywhere and I am sailing through major shipping lines and
a Matsun container ship is screaming along at 25 to 34 knots intersecting with my course heading, who gives
way? Navigation 101-duh! Thus might is right. With emphasis!
As it turns out, even though I am the boat that has chosen a destination and I have the appearance
of knowing where I am going, I don't!
The wake of my vessel effects people, places and things of which I do not have an awareness of.
My hope (really) is that the ants enjoyed the ride but I can't and will not be responsible for ants in my wake!
If they didn't like the big surf at least they know it now. Ride smaller waves!
What sailing comes down to my son is-you are the boat! It's not where the boat is going and it's not
where the boat has been! It's where the boat is!
" The Journey Is The Destination" son...................
What can I say? " You are there and I am here"! No matter where you go, there you are.
It kind of keeps you in the moment doesn't it?
I look at life like a boat moving through the water. I am the boat. The bow of the boat divides
the water in front of it as it moves towards a destination. I know where the boat is going because I am driving. I know it will arrive but I can't tell you exactly where or when! In front of the boat are to many intangibles; weather, swells, people, physical obstacles, random events interfere with my plotted course.
My heading sometimes is changed or affected by the bombardment of random, unplanned events.
However, the boat continues with course changes which means the destination changes also....
The boat leaves a wake. Kind of like a record of it's passage. This wake has a ripple or butterfly effect.
When it arrives on shore it is like a breaking wave that little ants paddle out to on their surf boards and
either rip or wipe out, according to their abillity.
The wake of the boat is actually more important than the boat's destination. The wake of a good sized
stink boat is large enough to damage other vessels at anchor or slipped because of it's desire for speed.
If a stink boat follows-the Rules of the Road-, Maritime Law, No one gets hurt and no boats are damaged.
For instance: Sailboats under sail have right of way over any motor driven vessel. But and this is a big but!
One must always remember that even though one has right of way- the real Law of the Ocean is--
MIGHT IS RIGHT.............Never forget this son.
When my sailboat is 1,000 miles from anywhere and I am sailing through major shipping lines and
a Matsun container ship is screaming along at 25 to 34 knots intersecting with my course heading, who gives
way? Navigation 101-duh! Thus might is right. With emphasis!
As it turns out, even though I am the boat that has chosen a destination and I have the appearance
of knowing where I am going, I don't!
The wake of my vessel effects people, places and things of which I do not have an awareness of.
My hope (really) is that the ants enjoyed the ride but I can't and will not be responsible for ants in my wake!
If they didn't like the big surf at least they know it now. Ride smaller waves!
What sailing comes down to my son is-you are the boat! It's not where the boat is going and it's not
where the boat has been! It's where the boat is!
" The Journey Is The Destination" son...................
Friday, August 27, 2010
Letter June 14, 1863. Sutter Creek to San Francisco, California
Dear Mother, Father and sweet sister Robyn,
Though I have sorely missed the honor of being in your gracious company, I have much to share with you in the way of experience. First, I am in need of thanking Father for surviving the trials placed before him. Know I am your most respectful son, father! Though I am but a small seed, I proclaim here and now that I have come to a great understanding of what men will do when they are faced with matters beyond their experience to forbare.
Fearsy, your loyal friend and mine, speaks little. When he speaks, I listen as did you while stolen from us, as a family for but a short while! And yet, Father, I thought never to see you again. Mother! He returned from the edge of the world for us! Wealthy? Yes. What is wealth, father? Without love? It does not exist!
Fearsy is a teacher. But father that is why you gave him to be my watcher. Mother, father did not leave me alone at his claim. I know that when we riverboated to Sacramento you knew that your husband, my father was going to wean me as a man allows his son to become what he will become. Mother, you also knew he would place me in harm's way but with a comforter or protecter! In Fearsy's silences I have learned more than all the books I have studied, read and shared and yet! I still read. Wisdom seems to be a balance between emperical knowledge and love.
Sister, this is a harsh daily existence. San Francisco is dancing, good food, balls and gala events, small talk and you. I am sure no letter can return the way this traveled to you but if possible I would take a life to not miss a moment of you and I discussing anything small or large in the way we have done from the very beginning! How we analized any society; brats or bluebloods! Scoundrols, the lot! All the same! To be dealt with in the areas of our minds, where people and ideas reside. I miss you but I am near to coming.
My man on horseback is ready to carry this writting to you all. I know the claim has added to our foundation. Father, no man knows or can know the reality of what holds our family together. I would but hope that I and Fearsy beat this letter home so that I might with family give a fare rendition of all that has transpired in this two years that I have been absent from the center of my well being!
Father, I must confess. After being land locked these two years past, if it be in the stars, may I sail on a business junkett, maybe to Hong Kong? My hands have been in the frozen, cold waters of the Mother Lode and need the warmth of the Pacific Ocean and a different kind of isolation that only Mother Ocean can provide to heal the wounds that man's greed when revealed turns a warm heart to ice.
Fearsy says, " You know"!
Respectfully, your son and servant,
R. Luke Rhodes
Though I have sorely missed the honor of being in your gracious company, I have much to share with you in the way of experience. First, I am in need of thanking Father for surviving the trials placed before him. Know I am your most respectful son, father! Though I am but a small seed, I proclaim here and now that I have come to a great understanding of what men will do when they are faced with matters beyond their experience to forbare.
Fearsy, your loyal friend and mine, speaks little. When he speaks, I listen as did you while stolen from us, as a family for but a short while! And yet, Father, I thought never to see you again. Mother! He returned from the edge of the world for us! Wealthy? Yes. What is wealth, father? Without love? It does not exist!
Fearsy is a teacher. But father that is why you gave him to be my watcher. Mother, father did not leave me alone at his claim. I know that when we riverboated to Sacramento you knew that your husband, my father was going to wean me as a man allows his son to become what he will become. Mother, you also knew he would place me in harm's way but with a comforter or protecter! In Fearsy's silences I have learned more than all the books I have studied, read and shared and yet! I still read. Wisdom seems to be a balance between emperical knowledge and love.
Sister, this is a harsh daily existence. San Francisco is dancing, good food, balls and gala events, small talk and you. I am sure no letter can return the way this traveled to you but if possible I would take a life to not miss a moment of you and I discussing anything small or large in the way we have done from the very beginning! How we analized any society; brats or bluebloods! Scoundrols, the lot! All the same! To be dealt with in the areas of our minds, where people and ideas reside. I miss you but I am near to coming.
My man on horseback is ready to carry this writting to you all. I know the claim has added to our foundation. Father, no man knows or can know the reality of what holds our family together. I would but hope that I and Fearsy beat this letter home so that I might with family give a fare rendition of all that has transpired in this two years that I have been absent from the center of my well being!
Father, I must confess. After being land locked these two years past, if it be in the stars, may I sail on a business junkett, maybe to Hong Kong? My hands have been in the frozen, cold waters of the Mother Lode and need the warmth of the Pacific Ocean and a different kind of isolation that only Mother Ocean can provide to heal the wounds that man's greed when revealed turns a warm heart to ice.
Fearsy says, " You know"!
Respectfully, your son and servant,
R. Luke Rhodes
Friday, July 30, 2010
A Man Finds Himself
The only reason it took me two weeks to travel from my diggings to the riverboat that would deliver me into the presence of my dear wife is a story onto itself! Yes! I entrusted Hearsy to watch over my son, Robben, while extracating all that is rightfully ours on a claim, duly filed and legal in the State of California.
Rich it is beyond my simple expectations. When the side of a mountain collapsed, changing the waterway and releasing hiden bounty, geologically buried until an act of Nature released a natural buried organic treasure pushed up by the forming of the Earth itself! Gold, measured by pounds became ours. So Fearsy, my compatriot and friend and yet-more. Brother, like no man has experienced. My life for him is but a small address. Now, he guards my son from a wilderness of greed, avarice, and selfishness, where all people doubt that when help is asked for and delivered it is done without a price! Friendship, fellowship and comradrie? All doubt! I am living testimony that friendship found is real and everlasting.
Downstream on the American River would, under a normal sun, have brought me but one week and a day to the Sacramento River and town itself if I hadn't been waylaid by miscreants whose soul purpose here on this wonderful planet is to gainsay themselves at the expense of another that they rationalize that all people of wealth, stold the lifestyle they live off the backs of thieves just like themselves! I have no mercy for this kind of thinking! They boarded,without invitation or any friendship, our simple vessel with only one thing of mind! To rob, steal and maybe kill for their lack of creative skill to come into their own in the way of financial gain! They made an honest attempt to kill me and the passengers on this very small river vehicle that was bringing us down to the river that would bring me home to my wife in San Franscisco, Robin. The Sacramento River.
I was sorry I killed two of them. They wanted more than I could give. The surviving two were conscious by the time I gave them to the sheriff of Sacramento. Everyone aboard thanked me in abundance for being a kind of protector. I didn't see it that way. I saw effeminate men whose wealth was made off the backs of people like me. If I had not been aboard, they would have been free of their money and their life. I felt sorry for the distressed highwaymen. Not for the rich double speaker! Thieves, not only of hearts but when the law doesn't work for them they express vigilantism! Why do manipulators appear to victorious always?
I paid the bail and did goodspeak for the surviving two. They trusted my word and found their way to Fearsy and my son. Those surviving two are with me to this day. One never leaves my wife's side. The other never leaves my son's. I have Fearsy and he has me. We all have the truth in us. Gold is in our hearts for those who can bear it!
My re-union/re-acquaintance with my wife at our new house on Nob Hill is another story! And so is what my daughter brought to my attention on the day of my return from the Forgotten Claim of the Motherlode that did nothing but quadruptle the wealth of a simple man who gladly walked his way! ARRRAGGHHHHH! Matey!
Rich it is beyond my simple expectations. When the side of a mountain collapsed, changing the waterway and releasing hiden bounty, geologically buried until an act of Nature released a natural buried organic treasure pushed up by the forming of the Earth itself! Gold, measured by pounds became ours. So Fearsy, my compatriot and friend and yet-more. Brother, like no man has experienced. My life for him is but a small address. Now, he guards my son from a wilderness of greed, avarice, and selfishness, where all people doubt that when help is asked for and delivered it is done without a price! Friendship, fellowship and comradrie? All doubt! I am living testimony that friendship found is real and everlasting.
Downstream on the American River would, under a normal sun, have brought me but one week and a day to the Sacramento River and town itself if I hadn't been waylaid by miscreants whose soul purpose here on this wonderful planet is to gainsay themselves at the expense of another that they rationalize that all people of wealth, stold the lifestyle they live off the backs of thieves just like themselves! I have no mercy for this kind of thinking! They boarded,without invitation or any friendship, our simple vessel with only one thing of mind! To rob, steal and maybe kill for their lack of creative skill to come into their own in the way of financial gain! They made an honest attempt to kill me and the passengers on this very small river vehicle that was bringing us down to the river that would bring me home to my wife in San Franscisco, Robin. The Sacramento River.
I was sorry I killed two of them. They wanted more than I could give. The surviving two were conscious by the time I gave them to the sheriff of Sacramento. Everyone aboard thanked me in abundance for being a kind of protector. I didn't see it that way. I saw effeminate men whose wealth was made off the backs of people like me. If I had not been aboard, they would have been free of their money and their life. I felt sorry for the distressed highwaymen. Not for the rich double speaker! Thieves, not only of hearts but when the law doesn't work for them they express vigilantism! Why do manipulators appear to victorious always?
I paid the bail and did goodspeak for the surviving two. They trusted my word and found their way to Fearsy and my son. Those surviving two are with me to this day. One never leaves my wife's side. The other never leaves my son's. I have Fearsy and he has me. We all have the truth in us. Gold is in our hearts for those who can bear it!
My re-union/re-acquaintance with my wife at our new house on Nob Hill is another story! And so is what my daughter brought to my attention on the day of my return from the Forgotten Claim of the Motherlode that did nothing but quadruptle the wealth of a simple man who gladly walked his way! ARRRAGGHHHHH! Matey!
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Razor Reef
Who even know where it is or what it could mean? A very small lagoon? Nay, a tidepool. Across the street from my house, for a time. That ancient era is bygone and yet the memory still refreashes and instills
a radiant peace, tangible, touchable with it's substance.
Is it the days and hours spent witnessing God's pryrotechnical explosive tropical sunrise and sunsets by myself and with only a few real friends? Even cameras not able to properly capture the overlapping and ever changing kaleidoscopic pastels generated by sun rays dancing with cotton candy clouds, shimmering emerald green waters and a forever sky dipped in plumeria? Changing moment to moment, like waves, traveling so far to fall and break on a foriegn shore, unique. Manifesting itself and then returning into what it has always been and always will be.
How many times and with how very few did we ride that silly little nothing wave laughing as our fins hit the reef, knowing it wasn't even a ridable wave but riding it anyway and in the doing both were defined. We made it surf and performed and Razor Reef joyously conformed. The tidepool and the surfer smiled together as if at a private joke!
Was it because the teeth the reef revealed as Waimea Bay's back door during winter's swells was so majestic with upside down waterfalls. explosions with sound, water reaching heavenward then falling; raw, natural power not allowing all the ocean to return to her body, suspending her in the air to breath, taste and smell? To know her intimately. To become one with her. To submerge!
From snorkeling the Razor, her cooling me off on those lazy, hot, intoxicating summer daze, I can see her bottom as if it were yesterday. How many moods have I seen her display? How many ways have I made love with her? Does she remember me? Yes, I believe she does. Who could forget?
a radiant peace, tangible, touchable with it's substance.
Is it the days and hours spent witnessing God's pryrotechnical explosive tropical sunrise and sunsets by myself and with only a few real friends? Even cameras not able to properly capture the overlapping and ever changing kaleidoscopic pastels generated by sun rays dancing with cotton candy clouds, shimmering emerald green waters and a forever sky dipped in plumeria? Changing moment to moment, like waves, traveling so far to fall and break on a foriegn shore, unique. Manifesting itself and then returning into what it has always been and always will be.
How many times and with how very few did we ride that silly little nothing wave laughing as our fins hit the reef, knowing it wasn't even a ridable wave but riding it anyway and in the doing both were defined. We made it surf and performed and Razor Reef joyously conformed. The tidepool and the surfer smiled together as if at a private joke!
Was it because the teeth the reef revealed as Waimea Bay's back door during winter's swells was so majestic with upside down waterfalls. explosions with sound, water reaching heavenward then falling; raw, natural power not allowing all the ocean to return to her body, suspending her in the air to breath, taste and smell? To know her intimately. To become one with her. To submerge!
From snorkeling the Razor, her cooling me off on those lazy, hot, intoxicating summer daze, I can see her bottom as if it were yesterday. How many moods have I seen her display? How many ways have I made love with her? Does she remember me? Yes, I believe she does. Who could forget?
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